Blood and Loyalty Page 15

  “The great heroes have returned!” laughed one in the group. A cheer went up and the women stood on untrustworthy legs, stumbled out the door, and called to the men in the distance; they yelled something back, muffled and indistinct but with a clear note of drunken merriment.

  Disa was alone once again save for a few women who’d failed to be roused by the noise, Helga included, and an idea occurred to her. She’d not been further than the well in four days. At first that made sense since she needed to keep from injuring her ankle further, but now she felt strong - there was nothing but a faint bruise to show from the sprain - and she had a suspicion her imprisonment was more to do with some sort of clandestine agreement between Finn and Helga.

  Disa set aside her sewing and stood carefully. When no one moved, she began to tiptoe carefully across the floor, the heavy snores covering any noise her footfalls may make. She held the door handle firm and prepared herself for the moment of truth. There was no way to disguise the racket she was about to create. Then, like a sign from the gods, the men and women had met at last, their hooting and hollering reverberating off the hills and buildings. Disa yanked the door open just enough to squeeze through, her eyes trained on Helga for any sign of movement, when her knees hit something hard and unyielding. She glanced down in surprise to see a mighty frown and a fierce and disapproving glare.

  “Of course,” she sighed to her tiny jailer. “Hello, Whistle.” The boy said nothing but raised his chin, the miniature defiance familiar to her. “Glad you’re still here. I was...making sure. Helga would be quite proud.” They stood looking at each other for another moment and Disa wondered briefly how hard it would be really to just scoop him up bodily and set him aside. “I’ll be inside...should you need me.” The boy crossed his arms in response and she sighed once more. “Ok, then.”

  Disa shut the door and leaned against it, smiling despite herself as she heard him plop to the ground once more. There’d be no escaping that way tonight, not if she wanted to keep Helga at bay. She crossed to the window once more and squinted down the road. She could make out the figures in the failing light as they lit a bonfire but no one silhouette seemed distinctive enough to be Finn. Helga snorted making Disa jump.

  I wonder…

  Disa set her foot gingerly beside her sleeping host and hoisted herself up slowly, stretching her leg over Helga and placing the other foot on the windowsill. She straddled her for a few moments praying the woman wouldn’t wake to see Disa looming before grasping the frame and pulling the rest of her body up and over. She crouched in the opening and felt absolutely silly but she silently blessed the contents of that brown jug anyway. One drop to the ground later (a bit further than she’d anticipated), and Disa was free.

  She didn’t wait to see if she’d been found out and instead walked quickly through the field and around the barn, trying to keep herself from the road for as long as possible. It wasn’t long before she heard someone calling and looked over her shoulder to see two faces frowning at her. Helga said something Disa couldn’t hear and the boy was out the window like lightning, sprinting in her direction. She laughed and quickly scaled the fence, jumping onto the dirt packed road, and escaped down the hill, her stride long and almost uncontrolled. She heard Whistle’s giggle behind her and nearly stopped at the shock of hearing a sound. Instead, she began to weave back and forth, covering the ground to the party by the shore quickly but not too quickly, letting the boy stay just at her heels. The game took them almost to the center of town, the boy’s laughter having saved her from Helga’s reproach as she and the remaining houseguests followed after.

  “Heeeeeeeeyyyyyyyy!” cried a familiar voice. Finn was standing in front of the fire, arms thrown up in greeting, grinning like an idiot. “That’s my wife!” he yelled. A few of the nearby men threw their arms up as well and joined him in cheering. “Everybody! My wife is here!” Disa forgot her chase and slowed, wishing she could stretch this moment further as her cheeks began to heat. “Isn’t this nice, Halfdan?” Finn asked, turning towards the forger whose arm was snaked around his neck, both of them wavering slightly in the non-existent breeze.

  “Ay,” he agreed. “And beautiful. Like a glorious Valkyrie coming to claim us all. WE ARE WILLING!” he cried.

  Finn pouted at him and pulled away. “My wife,” he repeated, and he closed the distance left between them with a long and easy gait. “Hello,” he grinned, scooping her up with surprising ease so that she sat in the crook of his elbow, her hands on his shoulder for balance. It was at once thrilling and familiar.

  “Hello,” she laughed. “Don’t drop me.”

  “Never,” he confidently declared as he began the climb back towards Helga’s. Disa smiled down at him. His arms and neck were shining with sweat and dirt, the reflected light making him seem afire. “What?” he asked as she continued to stare.

  “You look like a god,” she admitted recklessly.

  He stopped walking and stared at her. “That isn’t the first time you’ve said that to me, you know.”

  “What are you talking about?” she laughed, her legs suddenly too warm where they were pressed against his side. “Put me down.”

  He held her tight. “Just before you tried to kiss me. You told me I looked like a god.”

  Disa was confused and riveted. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him. “I never…”

  “You did. You kissed my brother and then tried to kiss me.” He started walking again. “You were quite drunk.”

  “Now I know you’re lying!” she laughed. “I never kissed your brother.”

  “Yes you did.”

  “No I didn’t,” she insisted. “Put me down,” she repeated, slapping at his arm beneath her. He let her down but slowly, her body sliding the length of his, a single eyebrow raised. Something stirred in her mind but it was soon mixed up with the terrible cries of that night. “I tried to kiss you?”

  He smiled sadly. “You did.”

  They were almost to Helga’s now, his steps becoming more uneven. “I never kissed Rurik,” she said into the silence, unable to let it go.

  “He said you did,” he slurred as they pushed through the door. The room was still in disarray and Finn tripped over two pieces of furniture in the dark. “Bench,” he said each time. “Bench.”

  “Sit,” Disa commanded, and he obeyed, falling heavily onto a platform under the window. Disa tried not to laugh as he frowned down at the hard surface devoid of blankets while she pulled off his boots.

  “Don’t steal my shoes!” he said, laughing heartily at his own joke.

  “You are drunk.”

  “Yep.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drunk.”

  “I don’t get drunk.” He leaned back against the wall, his blinks getting slower and slower. “My dad got drunk. Or maybe he got sober. Mmm...that’s more...right word.” He was struggling for coherence now as he fought the urge to pass out. “Dad was drunk and then sometimes he was not. But usually drunk. Rurik gets drunk. Not me.”

  “Not you,” Disa prompted when he was quiet, selfishly wanting him to go on.

  “Mmm...Can’t. I keep everyone safe. Keep the island safe. Keep Rurik safe. Keep Rurik’s wife safe. Rurik gets drunk though. Gets charming. Gets pretty wives.” He opened his eyes and looked at her again.

  “When did he tell you that I’d kissed him,” she asked as she pulled the blankets from their hiding place and tried to roll the pallet out around him.

  “When he told me he loved you.” Disa stayed quiet, lifting his legs to shove something soft beneath him. “When I didn’t rescue him,” Finn continued. “He said he kissed you and he loved you. He knew it and that I had to keep. You. Safe.” He punctuated each word with a poke to her arm and sighed. “But I got drunk. Cause I’m a bad brother.”

  “You’re not a bad brother.”

  “I am. I’m the bad brother. I’m supposed to be finding him and saving him, I promised. But instead I’m running around after sheep. Sheep are fast
. Did you know how fast sheep are?”

  Disa wrapped her arms around his middle and tried to haul his limp mass down onto the half-made bed. “How fast?”

  “Fast. They run fast from me. I’m the bad brother. I’m chasing sheep and keeping you and being not very good. He’s captured a week and I’m thinking how nice it is to keep you…” He trailed off into silence once more.

  “He didn’t kiss me.” It was important to her that he understood that. “Finn?”

  “Hmm?” He opened his eyes and looked at her again. He smiled and reached up, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger.

  “He didn’t kiss me.”

  Finn was silent. His eyes flicking to her lips. “He lied.”

  “He lied,” she confirmed.

  “Bad brothers,” he sighed. His hand dropped back to his chest, and he closed his eyes. Disa curled up beside him and let him sleep.

  Disa slept heavy and dreamless for the first time since the attack. She woke face down as the sun, bright and warm through the window, sent sweat sliding down the back of her neck. Her mind fought her body, caught under the spell of the heat. It must be well past sunrise but she could have easily kept dozing until the weight across her back forced some sense into her mind.

  Finn.

  He was asleep on his stomach as well, still next to her and still breathing deeply, his right arm thrown over her middle. She doubted he was even conscious of the intimacy. She bit her lip and stared at the back of his neck. They had to leave - if not today, then tomorrow at the latest. But not right now. Not right at this moment. They could be Fengi and his new wife for a few minutes more, sleeping well and comfortable in each other’s arms. Just a few minutes more.

  Finn sighed and arched his back, his fingers catching her side, clenching and releasing, before he settled deeper into the blankets. Disa felt a sudden onslaught of panic imagining a now sober Finn waking up with his hands on her body, her staring like a love-struck child at his tanned skin.

  She slid carefully to the side and freed herself from his hold, stepping over his body and to the floor, quick and quiet. She glanced outside briefly, the entire town seemingly empty or asleep, the only sign of life being a few stray sheep scattered between the buildings.

  Disa looked back at the massive warrior tangled in her blankets and sighed to herself as she remembered his loose tongue the night before and the way his hands felt as he carried her and as he touched her face. The good and proper Finn would probably find the whole thing unspeakably embarrassing and end up building an entire barn on his own just to escape her company. She was not going to let this be uncomfortable, and she was not going to let him slip away without making a plan.

  By the time Finn finally began to stir, groaning miserably, his palms pressed tightly to his eyelids, Disa had raided the larder and set out a veritable feast, the mending from yesterday shoved unceremoniously to the floor. If being raised by boys had taught her anything it’s that they’d face any questionable situation if a meal were promised. The air in the hall had only grown thicker, the heat of the fire compounding the sun and intensifying the scent of warmed bread, ripening fruit, and the beginnings of the night’s stew.

  “Good morning,” Disa said cheerfully as she twisted her hair and set it atop her head. “How are you feeling?” Finn sat up and rubbed his hands up and down his face over and over again. “Alas, you cannot scrub away that headache.” Or me, for that matter. “There’s food though. A little bit of everything. I didn’t know what you’d prefer, what would make you feel better…”

  He was quiet, his shoulders heavy and head tilting to the side. “Other than death?” he finally sighed.

  Disa smiled. “Yes, other than death.”

  “I don’t know. What does one usually…” he trailed off as his cheeks flamed noticeably and started rubbing his face again.

  “Ah, that’s right. You’re green,” Disa teased. “In more ways than one, I’d imagine.” Finn snorted and groaned in agreement. “Here. I usually prefer mine warmed but considering the day, I left it cool.”

  He took the proffered cup of well water and swallowed it in one drink. “Thank you.” Disa fetched the pitcher to refill his cup and waited while Finn chugged another. “I’m sorry about last night,” he ventured once he’d quenched his thirst.

  “It’s not me you’ll have to apologize to,” Disa said gravely. Finn gave her a worried and questioning look and, unable to resist, Disa cupped his face between her hands just for a moment. “Have you seen those poor sheep? They’re scattered all over the hill, no doubt traumatized from being chased up and down the countryside by a dozen ale-soaked men, hooting and hollering.”

  Finn glared at her but his smile gave him away. He crawled to the window and looked at the quiet scene. “They’re everywhere,” he groaned. “It’s going to take hours to round them up.”

  “I know,” Disa cooed. “And they run so fast.”

  Finn glanced over his shoulder with a veiled expression before turning back and resting his chin on the sill. “They do.”

  Disa carried over a little of everything and sat next to him, eating quietly and watching as people began to emerge from wherever they’d made their bed that night, dazed and stumbling. Eventually Finn set aside his cup and brushed the crumbs from his hands, looking for all the world like he was about to be unbearably serious. “Disa--”

  “I stole a boat once,” she interrupted, his tone an alarming portent of what was to come.

  Finn shook his head slightly, struggling to keep up. “What?”

  “I stole a boat once.”

  He wavered for a moment before letting his curiosity win over whatever good sense he had been about to display. “When?”

  “When I was 15. I was good and truly drunk for the first time and I felt very strongly that I had to take to the sea. I knew there was something just over the horizon that I needed or that needed me. I couldn’t tell you what, but I remember the feeling. I had to get from here to there and nothing was going to stop me.”

  “What happened?” he grinned.

  “Oh, I got about halfway down the fjord before I’d hopelessly tangled the rigging and vomited all over the sail. I decided about then that perhaps whatever was calling for me could wait and took a nap instead. I woke up the next morning with our Jarl, his wife, my brother, Nan and the Lawspeaker from the other end of the island frowning down at me.”

  Finn threw his head back and laughed, the long column of his throat tempting Disa’s gaze. “I find it difficult to imagine your brother being angry with you.”

  “He’s found reason upon occasion. He was quite cross for about week.”

  “Only a week?”

  “Well, about a week after my attempted escape he discovered the same stash of Nan’s that I had and ended up burning down the Jarl’s house. We called it even and moved on.”

  “He burned down the Jarl’s house and now he’s Jarl.”

  “Life is quite mysterious that way.” Finn grunted in agreement. “At least all you did was scatter livestock. You burned nothing. You stole nothing.”

  Finn kept his eyes out the window. “Then why do I feel like a thief?”

  You cannot steal anything that would be gladly given, she’d wanted to say. But her courage failed her and Helga came stomping out of the barn leaving a string of curses in her wake. “Everything all right, Auntie?” Disa called.

  “You,” she spat, waving her finger madly at Finn. “Get those good for nothing men together and get these foul creatures out of my barn,” she shouted as she aimed a kick at a nearby grazing sheep, missing it entirely but sending it running with a baleful protest of its own.

  “Oh no, did they get into your cheese, Auntie?” Finn grinned remorselessly.

  “Never mind, you. Just get them out.”

  “Best do as she says,” Finn whispered.

  “Yes,” Disa agreed. They held still a few moments, his forehead close to hers.

  “We have to leave soon,” he v
entured.

  “I know.”

  “I was hoping Bassi would lose interest and we could follow him back to the southern brother’s men but…”

  “I know.”

  “I’m worried we’ll cause more trouble for everyone when we leave,” he admitted.

  “Maybe we can abscond to the woods again?”

  Finn stared at her a long moment. “Maybe we could.”

  Disa’s heart was beating so fast she could feel it in her fingers. She tried to think of something else to say but suddenly her mouth was dry and her head was full of an indistinct buzz. She was saved a reply by a series of shrill whistles from Helga. “Where is that boy?” she shouted, bringing her fingers to her mouth to whistle one again.

  “You better go before she blows the house over with all that whistling.”

  He sighed and pushed himself free of the blankets before padding barefoot out the door, and Disa released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, relieved and disappointed at once.

  The day proceeded in a dull domesticity that had Disa longing for sparring practice. She scrubbed the hall from top to bottom and helped the women sort through yesterday’s mending as they trickled in throughout the day, each more bleary-eyed than the last. She ate a late lunch out on the grass, laughing as the men attempted to coax animals from barns, houses, and in one memorable case a tree. On more than one occasion, Finn had resorted to just picking them up and dropping them over the fence, and each time he smiled back at Disa whose face and stomach ached from all the laughing. No one was trying to hide her away anymore, and she didn’t know if that was because of Finn’s drunkenly convincing performance the night before or because Bassi and his men hadn’t been prowling about since this morning when they’d rolled their eyes in disgust at one antic or another and walked back to their encampment.

  “Have you seen the boy around?” Helga asked, settling beside Disa with a huff.

  “Not since last night. Why?”

  “He usually comes around for breakfast but I haven’t seen him all day. I’m starting to worry.”