Passion's Fury (Viking's Fury Book 3) Page 7

  Skrymir glared at him and reached for his sword. Thorolf moved quickly, unsheathing his weapon first and laying the blade across the jarl’s chest before he could challenge Thorolf.

  “Give me a reason to cut you,” the captain growled. “Utter another word and I will, regardless of the penalty.”

  “Captain Thorolf!”

  He didn’t need to turn around to know who called his name—Prince Axel.

  “What is this about?” the prince asked.

  Thorolf didn’t move. “Ask your guest.”

  “Jarl Skrymir? Why did you come here?” Axel inquired.

  “I will hunt you down and kill you one day,” Skrymir whispered so only Thorolf could hear him. “Look for me on a night you least expect it, when your belly is full, your pikk happily sheathed in the woman you love. Then I will strike…”

  “I await your answer…” the prince pressed.

  Skrymir raised his chin. “There is only one road leading north, Prince Axel. When I realized who we came upon, I decided to share my kill.” He motioned at the stag on the ground. “Fresh meat is surely welcome in this camp.”

  “Aye. As long as your intentions are peaceful, you may eat with us. Captain Thorolf, lower your weapon, let this man pass.”

  Outranked, Thorolf obeyed his host. Regardless of his personal hatred for Skrymir, the man had done nothing wrong here, yet. As the guest of a prince, he must respect Axel’s commands, unless Runa was in danger. Then he’d wage war on anyone who got in the way.

  As he turned, he caught Runa staring at him, unable to interpret her expression. What did she think about his confrontation with Skrymir? How much had she witnessed? Did it matter? She knew he’d protect her. Relief flooded through him when she nodded. Not the reaction he’d hoped for, but since she was with two men of power, both interested in signing a marriage contract with her and forging an alliance with her brother, protocol must be adhered to. His personal opinion mattered little in the lady’s affairs now. But damn it, the more time he spent with her, the more he disliked the whole idea of her choosing a husband.

  *

  “You must act quickly,” Runa’s maid, Auda, warned as she joined Thorolf near the fire.

  Thorolf regarded the older woman. “Why do you speak to me now? We’ve been on the road for days and you’ve never made an effort to even say good morn.”

  “There was nothing worthwhile to say.” She gestured across the way where her mistress sat between Axel and Skrymir, looking as if she was enjoying all the attention. “One of those wolves will sink his teeth into her soon enough.”

  The captain didn’t need to be reminded and waved the maid off. “Go back to your tent.” He took a swig of mead. “Lady Runa is more capable of fending for herself than any other woman I’ve met. My protest would fall on deaf ears.”

  Auda harrumphed. “She is headstrong and much younger than you, Captain Thorolf. And this…” She moved with remarkable speed and snatched the wineskin from his hand. “Will only muddle your head.”

  He growled at her, not needing to be mothered. “Have I ever failed at my duties?”

  “Never. But why start now?”

  He didn’t understand. “The prince and jarl are within easy striking distance. My men are strategically positioned. What more can I give her?”

  Auda sat down next to him. “Your heart.”

  “Mistress Auda,” he said out of respect for her age. “I have no heart to give.”

  She put a hand on his shoulder, slapping something against his chest with the other. Whatever it was fell on his lap and he looked down, a leather bag.

  “If you hadn’t a heart, Captain, you’d be incapable of loving her the way you do.”

  “Love her? Lady Runa?” Heat surged through his body. “And what do you know of love?”

  “Three sons and a daughter say I know plenty.”

  He admired her spirit and laughed. “Aye, it seems I misjudged you.”

  “I forgive you, Captain. Now open the bag and throw the runes.”

  No. He never consulted the runes or got involved with witches. Nothing good could come out of knowing the future. Men were meant to live in the moment, fate bringing what it did. Only the gods knew the future.

  He tossed the bag to her. “I’ve no use for magic.”

  “Magic? Do I look like a spaewife?”

  “Ask me not, old woman. I’ve already made a fool of myself by not realizing you had a family.”

  “Gaze upon me again, Thorolf.”

  He looked up and nearly jumped out of his skin. The same woman he’d spoken with a breath ago didn’t occupy the spot next to him now. Instead, a young redhead with a beautiful face smiled at him.

  “Magic is what you believe it to be, Captain. Now blink your eyes thrice.”

  He followed her instructions. When he risked a second look in her direction, Auda had returned to her regular form. He rubbed his eyes vigorously, just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. “What tricks do you play, woman?”

  “Toss the runes, Captain.”

  He scooped the bag up, opened it, poured the runes into his palm, then gave them a good shake before he dropped them on the ground. Nine distinct symbols waited for interpretation.

  “Nine stones to represent the nine realms,” Auda explained. She scooted off the rocks and squatted in front of the runes, inspecting them closely. “You are a man of mystery, Captain.” She gazed at him. “There’s an unnatural fire burning in your belly—one that requires feeding in the way of blood. Weregild will never satisfy your need for revenge, will it?”

  How did she know? “What are you about?” he asked, suspicious of her intent.

  “Truth, Thorolf. Simple truth.”

  The warmth of Runa’s laughter wrapped around him then, spiking the jealousy inside him. He closed his eyes, searching for control, hoping he could hold his temper back.

  “Beware of things to come,” she continued. “Trickery and violence. Death for many.”

  Unable to tolerate more of her riddles, he gripped her shoulders and spun her around. “Speak plainly, woman.”

  “You love Lady Runa. Protect her from these men. Take her away before it’s too late. The dark one is evil.”

  If he weren’t an honorable man, he’d squeeze the rest of the truth out of her. “Leave me.”

  “But I wasn’t finished.”

  “I am,” he said in a low tone. “Go.”

  “As you wish, Captain.” She gathered the runes and put them back in the leather bag. “Odin be with you.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Outwardly, Runa must appear happy to entertain Prince Axel and Jarl Skrymir. However, the dark lord made her feel anxious and uncomfortable. Twice his arm brushed against hers, whether intentional or not. Her first loyalty was with Axel, if only for the sake of duty. She wanted nothing to do with Skrymir. His intent was clear. If she married him, she’d serve one purpose, a mere vessel to carry his unborn children.

  “Tell me why you left the comfort and safety of the Trondelag to brave the wilds, Lady Runa,” the jarl asked between sips of mead.

  The man tried too hard to make casual conversation.

  “I asked to see Prince Axel’s homeland. The way he described it piqued my deepest interest. Sometimes words don’t do a place justice.”

  “Aye,” Skrymir agreed. “I’ve been along the borders of the prince’s holdings. Few places rival it for beauty, I admit. But my lands provide natural barriers that few enemies would brave.”

  “Perhaps the better choice is to make peace with your rivals so you don’t have to worry so much over who would try to take what is yours,” Runa suggested.

  “A woman’s foolish dream,” Skrymir said. “Even in the crags among the highest peaks lurk unknown dangers. Tribesmen from the oldest people who occupied this country long before our gods ever breathed life into the Norse.”

  “Or a Swedish prince,” Axel added as he drank from a silver cup. “I prefer peace over war, Lady Run
a. It costs much less to make treaties than it does to bury the dead.”

  “You grow weary of battle?” the jarl questioned Axel.

  “No,” he said dryly. “I wield my ax when I must. Shed blood when it is necessary to defend my home. When you are a foreigner, it takes careful diplomacy to convince the native people how truly dedicated you are to their best interests and safety. If I hadn’t inherited my father’s good political instincts, I fear I wouldn’t be able to offer this lovely woman a new place to call home.” The prince gave Runa a warm smile, his eyes filled with adoration.

  “Has the lady accepted your troth?”

  Axel looked to Runa for an answer.

  “Nay,” Runa said gently. “But I am considering it, wholeheartedly.” She didn’t want to embarrass the prince in front of his rival.

  Just then, Skrymir’s servants arrived with platters of fresh meat and wineskins. The jarl rubbed his hands together. “A feast fit for a lady.”

  Runa accepted a trencher and smelled the roasted venison with pleasure. Fresh onions and herbs had been added to a dark gravy. “Thank you for your generosity, Jarl Skrymir.”

  He grinned. “Tis a pleasure to break bread with you again.”

  Hungrier than she had thought, Runa ate with purpose, not wasting a mouthful. She dipped bread in the gravy and savored the rich broth. Though Jarl Skrymir made her squirm, he surely kept a capable cook, even on the road.

  Minutes after the prince and his guards had finished eating, washing the meat down with wine, the first moans of pain sounded from beyond the fire. Runa ignored it at first, thinking some of the guards were fighting or had overindulged in drink. But when a bloodcurdling scream came, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end and she jumped up from her seat.

  “What is wrong?” she questioned worriedly, eyeing first the prince, then Skrymir. “Should we not investigate?”

  “Be at ease,” Skrymir said matter-of-fact. “Soon it will be all over.”

  “W-what are you talking about?”

  Prince Axel suddenly gripped his throat with both hands, staggering to his feet, the empty trencher falling from his lap. “What have you done?” he asked Skrymir. “What treachery have you brought into my camp?” He wavered, nearly falling, but managed to pull his sword. “Come and stand behind me, Runa. Now.”

  She did as he commanded, fear sending a frigid chill up her spine. Dear Odin, spare the prince. Please.

  Much to her surprise, Skrymir kept his place, licking the juice from his fingers as if nothing had happened. “There is nothing you can do, Prince Axel. No help for you or your guards. In fact, I suggest you sit back down. The more excitable you become, the quicker the poison will kill you.”

  “Poison?” Runa shrieked. “W-why? What wrong have I or the prince done you? Were you not welcomed into my brother’s home? Offered every comfort?” Her own throat started to tighten.

  “I did not poison you, dear Runa. Only my rival. You better wish him well in the afterlife. A man poisoned will never see the gates of Valhalla. He will roam the endless underworld, Hel his assured destination.”

  Desperation consumed her as she begged the prince to turn around. “Please. Let me help you.” She gripped his shoulders from behind. “I am sorry … so very sorry this evil man has followed me here. Forgive me…”

  Axel faced her then and cupped her cheek with his big hand. “Tis no fault of yours. I welcomed this man into my camp. And I’d do it again if it meant I could spend another day in your company.”

  Tears stung Runa’s eyes.

  “You are treasured, Runa.” The prince placed his hand over his heart. “Now do me one last honor…”

  “Anything,” she whispered.

  He leaned close. “Run.”

  She hesitated, her gaze flicking to Skrymir, who still sat in place, unconcerned, an arrogant bastard—a ruthless murderer.

  “Now…” the prince commanded, wheeling about with his sword held high.

  This time she responded quickly, disappearing through an opening between the trees, hoping she’d survive long enough to make it home and beg her brother to avenge the prince’s death.

  *

  Consumed by jealousy, Thorolf had retired to his tent once he was convinced Runa was safe. But when screams sounded, he awoke in a stupor and stumbled out of his shelter, his ax in hand. Chaos had erupted everywhere, his own men missing. He called for them, hoping they were nearby. No answer came.

  He edged forward, entering the clearing, shocked to see a dozen of Prince Axel’s men crawling and gripping their sides in obvious pain, several throwing up. Had the water or food been tainted? Perhaps the mead or wine had gone bad? He rushed to the closest guard and turned him over, only to find blood seeping out of his nostrils and lips. Fuck.

  Frustrated and worried, Thorolf went to the next man, only to find him in the same condition. He gave the man a firm shake, hoping to bring him out of his daze. “What happened? Where is the prince? Lady Runa?”

  The warrior struggled to draw a breath, but his eyes were clearly focused on Thorolf. “Meat,” he whispered. “The food…”

  The captain didn’t need to hear more and gently lowered the man to the ground and whispered a blessing over him. There was nothing he could do to save the guard. But nothing could stop him from avenging the warrior’s violent end. Rage gripped Thorolf as he stalked forward, one name on his lips. “Skrymir,” he roared, searching the area for Runa. If one hair on her head had been moved out of place, one threatening word uttered in her direction, he’d slice through the bastard jarl slowly, making sure he suffered for agonizing hours.

  “Skrymir!” he yelled again.

  This time the dark lord came into view. “Captain Thorolf, I’m glad you are awake and able to join the festivities.”

  “Where is Runa?” he demanded, gripping his ax handle, itching to strike.

  “Gone. Disappeared into the night while I watched Prince Axel die.”

  “What have you done here?” Thorolf asked, needing an explanation for this senseless slaughter as he drew closer to his target. “Why have you killed these men?”

  “To eliminate my competition,” the jarl said plainly. “I will wed Runa, no matter what I have to do to claim her.”

  “This is cowardice, the kind of underhanded attack you’d expect from a woman, not a jarl. Not a man who keeps the ways of the gods.”

  “Didn’t I tell you, Captain Thorolf? I care little for what Allfather demands. I live for myself.”

  Thorolf growled, only feet from his enemy. “Face me.”

  Skrymir chuckled. “I already am.”

  Something blunt hit the back of Thorolf’s head, skull-splitting pain followed and he sunk to his knees, seeing white spots before his eyes. He groaned, struggling to stay awake.

  “Your end is near.” Skrymir stood over him now. “Don’t fight the urge to pass out or more pain will follow.” He kicked Thorolf in the ribs. “Twould have been better if you’d eaten the meat. Now I’m afraid you must suffer…”

  Another blow to the head came and the captain finally surrendered to the darkness.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Runa ran as fast as she could. Terrified for Thorolf and the prince, she didn’t know what to do or where to go. Just deeper into the darkness—away from Jarl Skrymir—away from the danger. Why hadn’t she paid closer attention to Skrymir? The way he conveniently showed up, how he made the offering of the stag, it all made sense now. He’d likely planned this from the moment she left the Trondelag.

  Out of breath, she finally stopped. A half-moon shined overhead, silvery light breaking through the thick canopy. The forest held everything she needed for survival. Konal had taught her that from a young age. She could make it for days if all she had to think about was herself. But more than a dozen men were counting on her to bring help. Not that she thought they had a chance really. Skrymir didn’t seem the kind of man to leave any witnesses behind.

  And soon enough, he’d come after
her.

  Regret deepened her sorrow as she sank to her knees out of exhaustion. Why would the gods curse such loyal followers? Only she deserved to be punished for toying with the prince’s heart and lying to her brother. For taking Thorolf’s advice and twisting it to suit her selfish needs.

  “Please, great Odin…” she begged aloud. “Give me the will to find help, to make my way out of these woods.” Once she finished her prayer, she stood, listening closely for any unusual noises. But only silence greeted her.

  The mountains were to the north, that much she remembered, and the temple … eastward. She’d studied the maps in Roald’s solar whenever she had a chance to sneak inside. For years she’d been memorizing the layout of the lands around her home. If she closed her eyes now, she could picture everything clearly. She might be able to find her way to the temple. It was worth a chance.

  In the gloom, Runa did just that—picked her way through the forest. Hours passed as she walked, hoping to meet someone. She cared little for her own safety, it was only the hope that Thorolf and some of the other men had survived that kept her moving. The captain had been strangely absent from the campfire tonight. Maybe his confrontation with Jarl Skrymir made him want to be alone. Or the fact that Runa had played her part so convincingly with Axel, that he could no longer stand the sight of her.

  “Thorolf…” she whispered, hope and foreboding mingling together inside her heart. “I want to see you again—need to.”

  As soon as she uttered the words, she emerged from the forest and spotted a fire somewhere ahead. Many fires … perhaps a big camp or the temple? Odin willing… With renewed faith, she ran blindly, letting the flicker of light guide her feet. Everything happened for a reason.

  Something invisible pulled her closer and closer to the light.

  Dozens of torch stands surrounded the base of a rocky incline and groups of men hovered around open fires. By the light of those torches, she could see a footpath climbing the hill. At the top, the outline of a wood and stone structure. Odin be praised! She’d reached the temple. Tears streamed down her face as she knelt, feeling a sense of completion. All her life she’d dreamt of this moment, wondered what it would feel like to behold the holiest of places in her country. Norsemen of every background gathered here every nine years to honor the gods through oath making and blood sacrifices—sometimes human.