Authors: Kerri M. Patterson
He
made no pretense about his feelings, not even to her.
No
great love or infatuation for the woman herself inspired him to seek her hand.
He would not lie. He desired her, for even a blind eunuch would desire Geera,
but he loved her as he loved the rest of her family and that was all. He owed
Geera's father, their Jarl, his life, and he would do everything in his power
to keep his people and new home safe.
The
truth was, if he did not wed Geera, there would never be a chance for him to
take his revenge. He would never have the men to lead or the status to overtake
Aldar.
Jarl
Hadarr would leave this world for Valhalla soon, and Valdrik wished to mete out
justice on Aldar's people well after his Jarl's death. He desired for those men
who had taken part in the raid three years ago, the one that decimated his
former village, to die by his or his men's hands—they deserved their vengeance
for the slaughter of their people, for the destruction of their home.
A
fury like no other gripped him as images of his family assailed him, but almost
as suddenly as those memories surfaced, he flushed them away with swift
fortitude.
He
would avenge them tenfold.
Aldar's
men would suffer. They would burn.
Even
their sons, and sons of sons, would pay the price. He would not rest until
every last man guilty of the slaughter had been obliterated from the face of
this earth, until the last of their bloodlines had been drained of the last
drop of blood.
Valdrik
stopped at a gaming table and kicked Stieg's boot to get the man's attention
from the game of
Hnefatafl,
or king's
table
,
he played with Útryggr.
"Where
is the Jarl?" Valdrik asked his man Stieg.
Stieg
glanced up, somewhat annoyed, and then returned his attention back to the game
at hand. "I do not know," he answered.
Hooking
his thumbs in his wide, leather belt, Valdrik sighed in annoyance as the men
refocused on their game, unaware of the intensity of his need to find Hadarr at
this moment. He had a mind to toss the board upward off the table. "If
you've a wish to finish that, it had better be quick. Aldar's men approach,"
he said heavily.
Both
men came so swiftly to their feet that their knees jointly knocked the board
askew and into the air to crash at the side. The clamor brought servants
scurrying to pick up the pieces as the carved figures scattered across the
floor.
"How
close?" Útryggr asked.
"They
are erecting a camp on their side of the fjord as we speak," Valdrik told
him.
Both
men glanced between one another. "What do you wish us to do?" Stieg
asked.
Valdrik
placed a hand on the man's shoulder. He was his most trusted warrior.
"Ready the other men whilst I speak with our Jarl."
Both
Útryggr and Stieg nodded.
Valdrik
started for the stairs. If he were right, his Jarl was surely in his rooms with
his wife, Surguilde. The chilling winds ailed the woman, and his Jarl was never
far from her side.
“You’ve
returned,” Geera said, coming to his side and falling into step with him.
Her
soft voice slid over him like honey, sweet and smooth and tempting. He wanted
nothing more than to take her in his arms right then and hold her, to soothe
his anguish with her embrace.
Valdrik
halted at her gentle touch to his arm and returned her warm look. He had but
only a scant moment to spare, for he was desperate to speak with Hadarr. “Aye,
as I told you, I would not be gone overlong,” he said and started away again,
only to be stopped once more as she stepped around him.
“I
am glad you have returned unharmed. We are to feast this night," Geera
said with a wide smile. "A boar was spotted this rising, and the men left
here chasing the animal nigh all day before they brought the beast back.” She
clapped her hands excitedly, and the sound of her giddy laughter was sweetly
unaware.
The
sound was like a rock hitting his gut.
He
did not wish to disappoint her so. Valdrik sighed hard, leveling a stare on her
that should have stayed some of her excitement, but alas, Geera knew nothing of
why he had gone scouting or the terror that approached.
"I
missed you," she said with a little uncertainty, disconcerted by his hard
stare. "I would be pleased to spend the evening together." She
reached up and slipped her fingers around his arms to squeeze gently, her eyes
lingering on the bunched muscle beneath her fingertips with a mixture of awe
and uncertainty.
Valdrik
tipped his head back, his brow still furrowed at her zeal. "Would
you?" he asked quietly. He lifted a hand to brush her cheek, and she
blushed into his palm, relieved at his returned affection for only a moment,
until Valdrik offered a wan smile.
Her
brow pinched with confusion and frustration for his reaction to her, which was
how most of their conversations ended. Valdrik sighed to himself. He might find
Geera desirable, but he feared his interest in her ended there.
He
stepped closer, dropping his hands to her shoulders and slowly caressed her
collarbone with the pads of his thumbs. “Feasting is something which might have
to be postponed, sweeting. You and your mother should ready the women to safety
soon. Aldar’s men approach, but I do not expect them to arrive before tomorrow
morning."
Geera
gasped, stepping back. "Nay! Already?"
"I
would speak with your father at once. Where is he?” Valdrik asked, his stare
flitting to the stairs and back to her.
Geera
went ashen, her brow knitted. “Above in his chamber. Oh, this is terrible
news,” she said, dropping her hands to her belly and taking a step back.
He
disliked the look of her panic, for the cause of her tender emotions heated his
blood to boiling. Her fear made him think of what his sisters had surely looked
like when they knew Aldar's men were upon them.
His
gut twisted.
The
only difference was Geera knew he would protect her.
Aldar's
men attacked unnecessarily. Neither Geera, nor any of the women or children,
deserved this constant fear. He started for the stairs again, ready to be back
with his men preparing for the attack.
“Valdrik?”
she said, reaching for him.
Her
cool, slender fingers sank into his skin, and Valdrik released a pent-up sigh.
He
turned back once more to cup her cheek. There was no mistaking what she wished
this time, for if either of them was more insistent on pressuring her father to
allow their marriage, it was she. He caught her gaze intensely as he pulled her
to him. “I shall try to speak with him once more, yet now is not the time. Do
not fret,” he told her, planting a kiss to her forehead and then turning
completely before she could lengthen the conversation.
Taking
the stairs two at a time, Valdrik reached his Jarl's rooms with haste, eager to
tell of the news he had returned with. He knocked loudly on the Jarl's door.
"Come,"
Hadarr shouted a moment later.
Valdrik
wasted no time. He entered, bowing his head to Hadarr. “I bring news of the war
party, Jarl. A group of fifty men have set camp a half day's ride between our
land and your brother's, on their side of the fjord. Surely they plan to attack
before dawn, after they have restored their energy, and before they think we
shall rise come morning.”
Hadarr
grunted, but did not appear surprised. Valdrik was not surprised either. Their
enemy's tactics rarely changed.
“I
knew they would come soon. Winter approaches. My brother always comes again
before winter,” Hadarr said tiredly. The older man tossed down the piece of
wood he had been whittling on and stood to come to Valdrik.
Hadarr
was an older man, around three-score. Valdrik was not sure exactly of his age,
only that the man's sandy colored hair had begun to fade and his body was now
on the stodgy side. He no longer trained with the men or raided, and had turned
over his leadership in battle to Valdrik. He sensed his Jarl had become tired,
and the many years of battling his brother had worn on his body and soul alike.
Valdrik
noticed Surguilde then, by the fire. He inclined his head to her, a gesture
which she returned. “Aye, yet there is nothing to be done," he said to his
Jarl. "At least we can prepare ourselves this time. I fear the feast Geera
told me of must hold until after Aldar's men have been dealt with. I've already
sent men to prepare our defenses.”
Hadarr
shook his head, coming closer, his hands clasped behind his back. “Nay, there
is something to be done this time. I've thought much of this, Valdrik. We have
warriors now. I would have you return to your scouts. We shall ride out to meet
my brother's men this time. If we can take Aldar's raiders by surprise then we
might yet save the village. The people will need their homes, for the coming
winter is said to be harsh. We cannot stand to rebuild every spring.
"Valdrik,
you know our numbers dwindle toward defeat. We cannot stand to lose anything to
those mongrels again. Not now when we are at the cusp of renewing our
people." He turned, pacing, hands on his sides. Hadarr crossed the room
then and dropped into his seat in a corner. "Maybe by spring we could
afford the loss, but not with winter's approach. They never change their
tactics, thinking us too weak to stand a loss from an attack, but methinks 'tis
time to change our tactics if they shall not change theirs. Let us go out and
meet them head on," he said, shaking a fist. "Let it be us to give
the surprise attack.”
His
Jarl's suggestion surprised him so that for a moment that Valdrik was taken
aback. He mulled the idea over a moment, contemplating the position of the camp
they had found. “This plan could work,” he agreed at last, rubbing his thumb
over his dark beard in thought. Valdrik watched as Hadarr rose from his seat
and took up the sword propped against the wall. Valdrik cocked his head to the
side with some alarm. “But surely you do not intend to come with us, Jarl,” he
said, looking between the man and the sword.
Hadarr
lifted his broadsword up, looking with admiration on the bright sheen of
polished iron, and he gave the blade's edge a kiss. “You shall not gainsay me
in this. We cannot afford to leave even one man behind. They shall surely
outnumber us by thrice. I am old, but I am not bedridden. If I can still drink
ale and bed my wife then I can still fight, and if I die, then I am to Valhalla
to dine with the gods.”
When
Hadarr looked at him, his eyes sparked with a determination Valdrik had not
seen in the man in a long time, perhaps ever. This struck him speechless for a
moment. He did not wish his Jarl to risk his life when his men could handle
their foes, but who was he to stop him? He gave his Jarl a short nod. “My men
are skilled, even if few in number. You risk your life,” he warned with
concern. "What of the people here?"
“You're
not my son, but if I had one, Valdrik, I would wish him to be just like you.”
Hadarr slid his sword into the sheath at his hip and crossed the room back to
Valdrik. He patted him on the shoulder.
“Make
me your son," Valdrik said. "Allow me to take your daughter as
my—" He stopped short when Hadarr waved his words aside.
“Not
now," Hadarr said. "Let us consider this when we return.”
Valdrik
nodded even though his hopes withered. “Aye, I shall make ready.”
“And
I shall follow with the rest of the men. Leave one man behind to lead our
group. Go back to warn the others to prepare,” Hadarr said. He squeezed
Valdrik's arm. "For Finna, my firstborn, we shall be victorious this
time!" He turned sharply on his heel and started to the wall where an axe
was mounted in a grouping of weaponry. Hadarr plucked the axe from the wall and
turned to look at his wife. Surguilde's anxiety was palpable.
"Aye,
Jarl," Valdrik said as he bowed and then retreated from the room, not
without noticing the sadness in his Jarl's eyes. The pain of the massacre years
before always weighed heavily on Hadarr, but the sadness was not quite the same
until his eldest daughter entered the man's thoughts. Valdrik could always tell
when her ghost was with Hadarr, and it saddened him greatly.
"For
Finna," Valdrik said hollowly as he made way back into the open hall.
For Geera
, his heart sang at the sight
of the woman awaiting him. His loins ached with his long-denied lust for her,
and anger began to burn in his gut as a powerful surge of bloodlust swelled.
"What
is happening?" Geera asked as he came to her.
"We
ride out to meet them head on." Valdrik took her hands in his, pulling her
close. "You shall be safe. The village shall be safe." He reached up
to run his hand over her hair and down her cheek. "Do not fret. I shall be
back again before you know it, and we shall feast together over our
victory."
Her
eyes widened. "Valdrik, you speak of victory so easily." Her voice
shook as she reached up to cup his face in her hands. "Return to me,"
she whispered.
Valdrik
lowered his head and claimed her lips in a gentle kiss. "I shall return
soon, and when I do, I am to speak with your father of a marriage." He
winked and kissed her, not with the ferocity he wished, but enough he could
stand to pull away and leave her side with a look of longing lingering over his
shoulder.