The Viking's Witch (23 page)

Broken bodies of men, women, and children lay sprawled on the ground. A screaming villager ran past him bleeding from a shoulder wound. One of Karnik’s men chased after him with a dagger. Rothgar stepped in front of the man, blocking his path.

“Stop this at once. What are you—?” He was knocked aside as the man plowed into him and continued hunting.

He looked around the courtyard. The tables had been knocked over. The bountiful feast lay on the ground, crushed and trampled by people as they fled for their lives. The fires had been built up, giving off more light to aid the hunt. Women lay beneath rutting Nordmenn, screaming for help. The men who tried to rescue them were run through with swords. Other villagers were being pursued in a deadly game of chase. The firelight bathed everything in long shadows and flickering red-orange flames. The scene was something out of a nightmare. Is this what hell looked like?

Nordskog nudged him in the ribs. “There is no stopping them. Their bloodlust has taken over. I felt you should know.”

He nodded. He admired Nordskog’s loyalty and self-restraint in the midst of the chaos. Instead of joining in with the others, he’d done the right thing and fetched him. Obviously the pact he’d made with Nordskog earlier today still stood.

For the rest of their time on the isle, Nordskog was under his employ and would faithfully serve him when needed. It was a costly arrangement but not uncommon. The king had a vast treasure at his disposal, and Nordskog knew it. Bribery was often used as a means to retain a man’s loyalty.

“Get to the church and stay with Brennan. Take means to see that no harm comes to him. I still need answers from that bastard.”

“
Ja
, as you wish.” Nordskog trotted in the direction of the church.

Rothgar unsheathed his broadsword and stormed through the center of the village, lashing out at anyone who came too close. One of Karnik’s men ran by, chasing a naked woman. He stuck out his foot and tripped the man, sending him sprawling to the earth. The woman escaped into the darkness, shrieking.

The man sat up, dazed. “What in the hell—?”

“You?” Rothgar glared down at him. It was Ivor, the man who had tried to assault Odaria their first night on the isle. He raised his broadsword. “I swore if I ever saw you again—”

“Stay your hand, else this arrow lands in your heart.”

Rothgar spun around. Karnik stood behind him, backed by a group of warriors. One man held a crossbow pointed straight at his chest. He glanced into the man’s eyes and saw no fear there, only cold determination. He dropped his broadsword. Ivor scrambled to his feet and ran off into the shadows.

“Karnik, I demand to know—”

“Save your words,” Karnik spat. “I take no orders from you. You are no longer in charge here.” He gestured around the village. “I’m giving my men what you denied them. They are free to do as they please, and there is nothing you can do to stop them.” He smirked. “Go back upstairs with your whore, and leave us to our fun.”

“Like hell.” He kicked the crossbow out of the man’s hands and slammed his fist into his nose. The man reeled back, stunned. Rothgar spun and rammed his knee into Karnik’s gut, knocking the wind out of him.

Karnik crumpled to the ground. Rothgar pounced on him, grabbing him by the throat with both hands. He knelt on his chest and squeezed hard. “I should kill you for what you’ve done. You—”

He froze as he felt a cold metal blade press against the side of his neck.

“Release him now, or die,” a familiar voice said from behind him.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he freed Karnik and held his hands up in surrender. Fighting back would serve no purpose other than to get himself and Odaria killed. He glanced over his shoulder as he straightened up and found himself looking at Svein. The urge to fight drained from him in an instant. Even his so-called friends had betrayed him.

“Svein? How could you—?”

“Silence. We are tired of being told what to do by you,
jarl
.” Svein spit on the ground. “We’ve taken over the village. If you had stayed upstairs with that witch, everything would have been fine.”

He stared at Svein in disbelief. Karnik and his men must have planned their betrayal earlier in the day. The friendly celebration he’d been invited to had merely been a trick to get him to let his guard down. “You planned this?”

“We had a meeting on our way back from Vestrey. We’re leaving the day after tomorrow. That’s what we are celebrating. We are taking what we wish from this damned isle and sailing home.”

“But Svein—”

Rothgar caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. With a start, he realized that Karnik had moved behind him while Svein had kept him distracted. They were setting a trap.

He charged at Svein, knocking him backward into the group of men. Karnik shouted orders, and the men descended on him. He fended off their vicious blows and fought back as best he could, punching and striking out at anyone within reach.

Someone kicked his right knee out from under him, and he fell to the ground. He glanced up in time to see Karnik’s boot connect with the side of his head. Everything went black.

Chapter Eleven

Rothgar grunted as he swirled up from the murky blackness. Someone was shaking his shoulder. He blinked his eyes open and found himself staring at Nordskog.

“Are you all right,
jarl
?”

He nodded, then winced as a sharp pain shot through his skull. Bright white sparks danced in front of his eyes. Obviously he wasn’t all right. He licked his lips and tasted dried blood mixed with dirt. His left eye was partially swollen shut, and his head throbbed with every heartbeat. What the hell had happened to him?

He lay still and looked around. The sun had risen a few hours ago. Its brilliant rays streamed down on him, making his head ache worse. After a moment, he realized that he was lying in a heap at the far edge of the village. How had he gotten here? He searched his fuzzy memory. The last things he remembered were trying to strangle Karnik, getting pummeled, and then … blackness.

Nordskog extended his hand. “I’ve been looking for you since dawn. I wasn’t sure if they killed you or not.”

He clasped Nordskog’s hand and struggled to his feet. The world spun, and he wobbled unsteadily until he regained his balance. A burning pain sliced through the right half of his body. He moaned and clutched his side. The bastards had kicked in his ribs. Were they all broken? What in the name of Valhalla had happened?

“They beat you good.”

He shot Nordskog an icy glare. “I think that’s obvious.” He looked down at himself. His tunic was splattered with blood and stank like piss. Karnik’s men hadn’t been content to beat him senseless. They had also humiliated him. Careful not to move too fast, he stripped off his tunic and tossed it to the ground.

The pain in his ribs lessened a little, allowing him to take a full breath. He straightened his back and shoulders. If he moved slowly, his aching body would cooperate, but a sudden movement sent maddening pains through his brain. “Where is Odaria? Is she all right?”

Nordskog nodded. “At the gathering hall. The upstairs door is locked. They spared her—because they fear her.”

“And rightfully so. If she had discovered them beating me, Thor himself wouldn’t have been able to stay her wrath.”

“Karnik’s men were content to prey on you and the villagers last night. I was told that after you were knocked senseless, he invited all who wished to take out their rage to have at you.”

“From the way I feel, I presume many men delighted in the pleasure.”

“
Ja
, some did,” Nordskog replied, spitting a stream of tobacco juice on the ground. “Although most were too busy with their own enjoyments to be bothered with you.”

“I suppose I should be grateful for that,” he muttered as he headed for the center of the village.

“Where are you going?”

“To the church to speak with Brennan. I must learn if this attack on his villagers has loosened his tongue.”

“I will follow,” Nordskog said, falling into step at his side, “should words not work.”

Rothgar let his mind wander as he walked along the worn dirt path. As soon as he returned home, he’d see to it that Karnik and his men were punished for their rebellion. But what was he supposed to do in the meantime? Was there any hope of finding Orvind now?

He made a silent appeal to the gods. All he wanted was to rescue Orvind, get Odaria, and sail for home. Was that too much to hope for? He sighed. Probably. If Brennan still refused to tell him where Orvind was hidden, what could he do to change his mind? Nordskog had already tortured the man once. He doubted another session would make Brennan eager to help them.

He studied the evidence of last night’s destruction as he made his way through the ravished village. The morning air was thick with the stench of death and smoky embers from burned-out fires. Dozens of murdered villagers lay where they had fallen.

Karnik’s men were also scattered on the ground. Everywhere he looked, men, some dressed, some nude, lay passed out on blankets. They had exhausted themselves last night and would sleep late into the day. He frowned. Although he felt a powerful urge to tear into them for what they had done, he knew better than to rouse them. He was outnumbered, weaponless, and felt as weak as a kitten.

“Are all the villagers dead?”

“Most. Everyone scattered when they released the nets. The women were taken first. The men ran for their lives and were hunted down. Some of them escaped. There could be two dozen or more roaming loose on the isle. Do you want them killed or netted if they’re found?”

“No. Why bother? If they’ve escaped, they have earned their freedom. Starving villagers won’t be a problem to me. And besides, who would obey my command to catch them?”

He reached the church and headed downstairs. Brennan lay fastened to the stone slab, shivering in the damp air. His naked body was covered with red welts, deep cuts, and burns. Rothgar smirked. Yesterday he’d whipped Brennan three times only to prove his point. Then he’d invited Nordskog to do the rest of the work. The Notorious One had taken great delight in his task.

“Are you ready to talk now, Brennan?”

To his surprise, Brennan sneered at him. “I see you were beaten. My prayers were answered.”

“I think not.” He forced himself to grin, even though it sent a burst of pain through his cracked lips. “Your God has forsaken your people. Did you not hear the screaming last night? It was the sound of Norsemen hunting Picts.”

Brennan’s eyes widened, and he continued.

“Some are still alive, maybe even enough for you to rebuild this village—if I allow my men to spare them.” He bent close to Brennan. The stench of urine and stale sweat coming off of him made his eyes water.

“You have until sundown to tell me where Orvind is, or else I will destroy you and your village forever. I’ll force you to watch as all the villagers are killed because of you. It will be slow and painful. You will not like my wrath, I promise you.”

Without waiting for Brennan’s reaction, he marched up the steps. Nordskog followed close at his heels.

“Rothgar, what are you going to do now?”

He strode out of the church and headed to the gathering hall. “I’m going to take Odaria and search for Orvind one final time. She may be able to sense his whereabouts.” He paused, then decided to trust Nordskog completely. “I’m leaving tomorrow, with or without Orvind. Brennan has until sunset to tell me what I want to know—or else.” He arched an eyebrow. “Go back in there and do what you do best. Make him willing to talk.”

“Rothgar, there you are. How long have you been awake? Where is your tunic?”

He looked over his shoulder as Odaria came downstairs and stood behind him. She looped her arm through the bend in his elbow and pressed her cheek to his upper arm. “You did not return last night. I waited up for you, hoping you would—”

“I couldn’t. I had pressing matters to attend to.” He wanted to spare her the truth about what had happened. “I prepared this for us,” he said, showing her the basket in front of him.

The wicker basket was filled with food left over from the feast. He’d packed hunks of meat and bread along with a large wedge of cheese and several boiled eggs. It would be plenty of food for both of them today.

“Are we going somewhere?”

“I would like to take a walk with you and have a pleasant meal out-of-doors,” he said, forcing his voice to sound cheerful. “You know this isle better than anyone. Is there somewhere we could go to be alone and not return until midafternoon?”

“Aye, I know many places,” Odaria said, stepping in front of him. She gasped as she saw his injuries. “What happened to your face?”

He closed the top of the basket and turned away. Although he’d washed the blood off his battered nose and lips, there was no way he could conceal his bruises.

“What happened?” Odaria clasped his hand and examined his torn, bloody knuckles. “You were in a fight, weren’t you?” She gazed into his eyes. “With who? Karnik? Over what? Orvind? Tell me, what did Nordskog want with you last night? There was trouble in the village. What did he tell you that tore you from our bed?”
He broke from Odaria’s steady gaze and sighed. She was a clever young woman, and she’d soon figure out what had happened—one way or another. He knew he would have to tell her the truth eventually, but he’d hoped to put it off until they were out of the village.

“I promise to tell you everything as we walk.” He picked up two pouches filled with water and headed to the cookroom. “Are you ready to leave?”

“Why are you so eager to go? Are you in trouble? Why are we sneaking out the side door of the cookroom?”

“I’m in no trouble, and you ask too many questions.” He quickly created a story to appease her curiosity. “Karnik’s men were up all night drinking and carousing. They are strewn around the village, sound asleep. Waking a sleeping Nordmann with a heavy head is not a good idea. Is it not better that we let them sleep and be on our way in peace?”

Odaria frowned. From the perturbed look on her face, he knew she didn’t believe his pathetic story, but it was better than telling her the truth—that the ground outside was littered with bloody corpses. It would be too much for her to witness. Some of the horrible sights soured even his guts.

“Come with me, and we will have a nice day together. You said you were tired of being cooped up indoors,
ja
?”

“Aye. It would be nice to get away from the village for a while,” she replied, then grinned. “And we could use the privacy.”

Rothgar clasped Odaria’s hand as they strolled across the fields along the outskirts of the village. He inhaled the salty breeze coming off the sea. Tomorrow he’d set sail for home, with Odaria at his side. They would begin a new life together. One more day. All he needed to do was make it through one more day. Then all their troubles would be behind them.

“What’s on your mind, Rothgar? You seem quite worried.”

He gave Odaria’s hand a light squeeze. There was much he wanted to tell her, but he was unsure how. “Nothing has gone the way I’d planned. I have not found Orvind. Karnik’s men hate me … I do not wish to burden you with my woes.”

Odaria’s black hair billowed out behind her as a gust of wind came off the sea. “’Tis no burden. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

He chuckled. “
Ja
, sense where Orvind is and lead me to him.”

“’Tis true that I can do magical things, but I canna point my finger and make him appear before me.” She glanced at the sea. “Would you like to walk along the cliffs? They aren’t far.”

“
Ja
, a view of the water will ease my nerves.” He didn’t care where they went, as long as they were far away from everyone else.
After walking a short distance, they came upon a field scattered with large rocks. Odaria led him over a small hill, and they strolled to the cliff’s edge. He set the wicker basket down in the grass and followed Odaria onto an outcropping of black rocks.

“Mind your footing, Rothgar. A fall from here means certain death, and sometimes the rocks are slick.”

He peered over the cliff’s edge and stared into the rough sea. The cliff was fifty feet high, with jagged rocks below. White-capped waves crashed against the black boulders. Odaria was right. A fall from here would be an instant death.

His heart leapt in his throat as he glanced at Odaria. She was sitting on the outermost edge of the rocks with her feet dangling in midair. Had she no fear? He backed away from the cliff’s edge and hurried to her.

“Come away from there. You’re making me nervous,” he called out. If Odaria lost her balance or fell, he’d never be able to reach her in time …

“I sit here all the time. I know every stone on these cliffs. I’m in no danger.”

“Odaria, move back from the edge. It’s not safe.”

She looked at him over her shoulder. “I shall, if you will tell me how you hurt your hand and who you were fighting with.”

“Fine. As you wish. Come to me, and I will tell you anything you want to know.” He returned to where he’d left the wicker basket and sat down. His heart hammered in his chest as he watched Odaria casually stroll in from the outcropping of rocks. She floated like the wind and moved swiftly as if she were walking across a wooden floor instead of a deadly cliff. A few moments later, she knelt next to him and opened the wicker basket.