Blood and Loyalty: A Viking Blood Romance Novel Page 7

  “You're right about that much,” Grim said as he glanced over his shoulder. “I can hear Agnar's snores from here.”

  Roe laughed shortly. “Disa said something similar about you this morning.”

  Finn frowned down at both of them.

  “What's the plan?” Grim asked.

  “Search the woods. Move the weapons tonight after it’s quieted down. Gather the men we trust tomorrow morning.”

  “Sounds good,” Finn agreed.

  “If it comes to a fight, we’re outnumbered,” Grim pointed out. “It's nothing but fat tradesmen and cranky farmers. I'm going to send for my men.”

  “They'd never get here in time,” Roe said, puzzled at first. “Right?” Roe asked suspiciously.

  Grim shrugged. “They might be anchored on a rock not too from here.”

  “These are peace meetings, Grim!”

  “Tell that to whoever buried weapons in the woods!”

  Roe sighed in exasperation. “When will they be here?”

  “Before morning if I can find a boy sober enough to helm a ship.”

  Roe nodded. “Do it.”

  With that Grim was off. “What he said was true, though,” Finn wondered aloud. “It's mainly common people. What are they hoping to achieve?”

  “Nothing good,” Roe murmured.

  “I told you Grim would win!” Disa exclaimed, eyes bright with excitement.

  “How could I have known! That last man was twice his size!” Rurik pouted as he tossed silver to an enterprising youth. He had lost the bet.

  “Because Grim always wins!”

  “Such praise,” he smiled at her. “I hope your praise of me is as high once we're married.”

  “You hope I sing that my husband never loses?”

  “Mm,” he affirmed as he pulled her closer.

  “But I just saw you lose,” she whispered.

  He laughed just as the music started and swept her into the clearing where the others had already started to dance, trampling over the blood-caked earth in delight. Soon they were spinning, spinning, and spinning. Even when they weren't spinning, things were spinning. Rurik pressed more wine into Disa’s hand but she refused. The bodies were pressing closer and closer, the air ripe with sweat, and Disa had to look up to the sky to steal a clean breath. This is about to go very badly, she thought to herself, looking around for her brother or Grim but spotting neither.

  People were changing partners back and forth quickly as the steps required, and the man she was dancing with now had his arm snaked tight around her waist, his belly pressing into hers. Please don't let me be sick all over this man, even if he has grabbed my ass twice now.

  Soon she was passed to another man. He grabbed her hips and lifted her up above the crowd, and she squeezed her eyes shut, expecting a swift drop back to the ground. Instead, he shifted her into one arm so she sat in the crook of his elbow, her legs pressed securely to his chest. She put her hands on his shoulders to keep herself steady and breathed deeply as a cool breeze lifted her hair and chilled her sticky neck.

  The sounds of the crowd were behind her now and she sighed contentedly. “Are you going to open your eyes?” he asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “You would let someone steal you away without a fight.”

  “I knew it was you.”

  “You didn't even look at me.”

  She could hear the disapproval in his voice. “Who else would storm into a dance to rescue me? It's what you do.” She looked down at him finally. “It was a party not a sparring match. I wasn't in any danger.”

  Finn smiled. “You were in danger of falling over.”

  “Mm,” she breathed, laying her cheek on the top of his head. “You should do that more often.”

  “Dance with you?” he asked lightly, doing his damnedest not to look at the swell of her breasts waiting enticingly at the edge of his vision.

  “Smile.”

  “You are drunk.”

  “I believe I am,” she said so earnestly, it took all he had not to laugh at her.

  “Do you think you can stand?”

  “Let's find out!” she called as if it were a great game.

  He paused and lowered her slowly, her body sliding against his. It was something of a distraction, but as he had a sword in one hand and Disa in the other, there was no other choice. He let her test her feet for a moment before he stepped away, thankful for some distance.

  Her balance seemed fine, and she smiled sweetly, her hands clasped in front of her. She glanced around then, realizing how far outside the torchlight they'd come. “Where are we?” she asked, squinting into the dark.

  Finn had snaked around a small hill instead of following the path, and they now stood at the edge of the wood that surrounded the encampment. “We're going through the wood. It's faster.” Well, it's safer anyway. He didn't want to be in the open considering whatever it is that's going on.

  “Ha!” she laughed, calling his bluff. “Doubtful.” She turned and faced the woods, hands on her hips and back erect as if she were pondering some great obstacle. “Onward!” she cried, throwing her hands in the air.

  Disa marched through the trees, her steps confident though often misplaced. Finn shook his head and trotted after her, sheathing his sword and keeping his hands at her waist, close but not touching, ready to catch her if she stumbled.

  “Are we close?” she asked, her drunken enthusiasm ebbing away as quickly as it had swelled.

  He laughed at the annoyance in her voice. They were barely halfway there. “Yes, very close.”

  “You're a terrible liar,” she sighed, pressing forward.

  “I'm an excellent liar.” He was trying to distract her enough to keep her moving but not so much she fell.

  “Ha!” she cackled. “Oh!” she exclaimed, stopping abruptly and looking down.

  “What?”

  “I'm stuck.” She pulled at her skirts but they had snagged on something in the brush, the trees keeping any moonlight from illuminating their surroundings. She pulled gently a few more times but there was no give.

  “I'll get it,” he offered, moving to kneel beside her.

  “I've got it, I've got it,” she said, waving him away. Disa reached around her back and Finn heard the unmistakable sound of unsheathing metal. She grinned, waggling a thin, short dagger, the edges and tip viciously sharp, the handle a masterwork of bone and silver.

  “Where did you pull that from?” Finn asked.

  Disa grinned wickedly and bent down, the sounds of ripping fabric following shortly. Once she was free, she spun her belt around, showing him the cleverly disguised sheath hanging with the other decorative baubles. “Useful, isn't it?”

  “Surprising me with small blades must be a family trait.” Disa gave him a wavering, confused look. She didn't have much time left on her feet, he could tell. He turned her gently and pushed her on, the knife swaying innocently at her side. “I've never seen anything like that. Where'd you get it?”

  “Grim made it for me.”

  “He made it?” Finn asked, impressed.

  “Oh, yes. He's very useful,” she giggled. “He made me this knife and these brooches and my brooches from yesterday and these chains and all of these beads,” she brushed her hands across the top of her breasts and Finn frowned.

  “How do you know that Grim snores?” He ventured she'd be too drunk to remember the question in the morning.

  She laughed again, taking his arm to climb over a fallen log. “He does indeed.”

  “Yes, but how do you know that?” She glanced at him, stopping when she saw his stern face, and frowned severely to match his expression. She lifted her fingers to his mouth and pushed the edges of it upward. He couldn't help but smile, grabbing her hands to pull them away from his face.

  “That's better,” she declared, her hands still in his. He moved his hands around hers and soon their fingers intertwined. They stared at each other, the silence only broken by the whistle of insects in the
dark. Disa pulled one hand free, tightening her grip on his fingers with the other when he made to pull away. She lifted her hand to his face, her fingers grazing down the side of his cheek. He leaned into the touch instinctively and she cupped the side of his face in her palm. “You're not like your brother.”

  He furrowed his brow, unsure of what that meant but refusing to break the spell by speaking. He was breathing so fast, his chest hurt with the effort.

  “You don't even look alike,” she continued, her face tilted up towards his as she snaked her arms around his neck.

  “Who do I look like?” he murmured, his tingling lips drawing closer.

  “Like no one,” she answered, his mouth parting at the feel of her breath. “Like a god.”

  His desire for her clawed away at his reason and he closed his eyes, leaning into his doom. That is until he felt her weight in his arms and the soft bump of her forehead on his chest. He opened them again and saw her resting peaceful against him, her shoulders rising and falling evenly. Finn inhaled deeply and blew out a steadying breath. She was asleep.

  It was for the best. She was drunk and he'd momentarily lost his mind. And besides, she wasn't his. She couldn't be. He swept her into his arms and she pulled herself closer, her face nestling into his neck.

  “She can't be,” he whispered to the dark.

  Finn spent ages crouched in the dark, watching over the quiet house long after he laid Disa in her bed with Nanna’s disapproving eyes digging into the back of his skull the entire time. The sounds from the feast had gradually faded and the stream of people wandering home seemed to have run its course. There was still a hushed giggle or moan from the woods every now and then, but things seemed to have quieted for the most part. The others would be looking for him.

  He stood, ignoring his protesting calves, and started up the hill at a run, desperate to quiet his mind with action. He was almost to the clearing when he heard a grunt and a thump, and he stopped, sinking low instinctively. The fires had burned down, the glowing embers doing little to illuminate the grassy stretch before him.

  Finn cut across the path towards the closest cluster of buildings and pressed his back to the wall. He stepped carefully, keeping to the shadows, and tried to make his way towards the sound, his head snapping towards every movement, real or imagined. Finn stuck his head around the corner, quickly surveying the two small buildings across the wide lane, trying to determine if it was worth the risk.

  It was then he saw it, so brief he couldn't be sure. He sank lower on the wall and leaned out again. It was definitely real. A man was crouched in the small space between the stone buildings he had been preparing to run to moments before. His back was to Finn and he seemed to be moving in stops and starts, like he was dragging something. Or someone.

  The man was distracted, his hands full of body and not weapon. This could be his best chance. Finn ran, swiftly and silently, his body doubled over, slowing only when he was a few steps behind him. He had been right; the man was dragging a body, its torso soaked in crimson from the single wound in his chest. Finn raised his sword over his head, ready to deal a deathblow. The man raised his head, a flash of scalp and shiny scar.

  “Grim?” Finn whispered harshly.

  Grim flinched and spun around on his heels. “Are you mad?” He grabbed Finn and hauled him into the cramped space.

  “What happened?” he asked, gesturing towards the body.

  “I was hiding him. Didn't want to draw attention.”

  “Who is he?”

  “I don't know. Did you kill him?”

  “Did I kill him?” Finn looked at Grim, bewildered. “No, didn't you?”

  “No.” Grim wiped his bloody hands on his trousers. “And I don't recognize him, do you?”

  Finn shook his head. “I don't. Where's Roe?”

  “No idea. But it seems like we aren't the only ones sneaking around tonight.”

  Finn had an uneasy feeling. “We should check the woods for those weapons.”

  Grim nodded, his mouth a thin line.

  They each slid slowly along opposite walls, Finn prepared to sprint towards the tree line once they reached the opening, when Grim suddenly pivoted, moving to stand beside him, and clamped a hand over Finn's mouth before he could voice a question.

  The confusion gave way to understanding as a figure passed by the end of their hiding place, his steps slow and deliberate, an arrow notched in his bow. Finn gestured his intent and Grim nodded, taking the offered sword.

  Finn eyed the back of the archer, leaning out briefly once he was sure the man wasn't going to turn back, and made sure there was no one following. He stepped out smoothly, knife in hand, and grabbed the stranger from behind, cutting his throat and driving the blade under his ribs, a quick and silent kill. Grim slid out of the walkway then, handing Finn's sword back to him, and helped him carry the body back into the narrow space to rest upon its brother.

  Both men were dressed in dark clothes, their weapons identical. “It's happening,” Finn whispered.

  “Where is Roe?” Grim looked around as if willing him to materialize beside them.

  “Look at these,” Finn whispered, holding the man's arrows aloft. The ends were blunted and wrapped in batting, the fibers stinking of animal fat.

  Finn and Grim looked at each other understanding dawning. “Fuck,” Grim ground out. They both stood, sliding quickly to the other end of the building, away from the woods. They had an unobstructed view of the clearing where a dozen archers were rolling the ends of their arrows in the embers of the night’s dying bonfires, the tips quickly igniting. “Fuck,” Grim repeated.

  The flames shot into the sky, each arrow arching gracefully towards the dry roofs of the surrounding buildings. They found their mark, and the night was alight with sudden flames. The archers were notching more burning arrows, and the men had no choice. They ran into the clearing, Grim pulling his axe from his back as he went, and rushed towards the band of invaders. Some noticed, most didn't, and their screams mixed with those of the innocent who were now streaming outside to escape their burning homes.

  It was chaos. They managed to kill three before the next wave of arrows was released. People were shouting all around them, and most of the men, having awoken to flames, found themselves without weapons, the swords resting safely inside the spreading inferno.

  “Finn!” Grim shouted above the din. “FINN!” Finn looked to the bloodied man and followed where he pointed wildly. More dark-clad warriors were streaming out of the woods, these brandishing swords in lieu of bows.

  “Look to the woods!” Finn called to those around him. “Arm yourselves! Look to the woods!”

  Grim took up the cry as well, and soon the words were echoing across the darkness. More buildings were bursting into flame, some by bad luck and others further down the hill on purpose. He needed to get his brother and get out of here.

  Disa.

  Fuck. Panic licked at his insides and Finn had to steady himself. He had never felt fear in battle as some men do and he didn't have time to now. He had to get to Rurik before the fighters made it to the shore.

  A fierce shout shot through the haze but Finn couldn't find the source. He had lost Grim in the madness and he'd yet to see sign of Roe. He propelled himself forward, those in his path standing little chance of survival as he swung his sword in wide arcs and cut a bloody path through the oncoming soldiers.

  He reached the great hall, the fire here tamer thanks to its structure of heavy stone though the insides weren't spared. Finn slinked around to the back of the hall to the cluster of tents most men would assume stored thralls or trunks of supplies, but in reality was where his brother slept. They were undisturbed, a few arrows lodged in the ground where they fell short of destruction. He sent up a quick prayer of thanks for that.

  Still he crept. Surely his brother would have heard the shouts, the crackle of the fire, the crash of metal to metal. The air was too full of ash and smoke now, his lungs burning from the pollution
and the pain of suppressing the coughs threatening to overtake him. He pressed his ear to the side of the tent and listened. It was quiet. Do not let me find the corpse of my brother inside.

  Finn slid under the side, preferring not to use the front in case a soldier waited with a blade. He saw the huddled mass almost at once. “Oh god,” he breathed. Finn scrambled on his knees and flipped the body towards him. “Rurik.” Thank the gods.

  Rurik looked at him with wide, terrified eyes. His face was bloodied, a gag in his mouth, and a rope binding his hands and feet. Finn pulled the dirty cloth from his mouth and held his brother’s head carefully. “Finn,” he gasped, coughing. “Finn, what's happening?”

  “Men are burning down the camp. They're slaughtering everyone.” Finn pulled his knife from his belt and moved to cut the ropes that bound him.

  “No, don't!” Finn paused and looked at his brother in confusion. “This is Ragnar’s doing. He means to take me hostage. He means to take me back to the keep and seize our lands.”

  “Then let me free you!”

  “NO. You don't understand. Roe already tried.”

  “You've seen--”

  “Listen to me,” he hissed. “Roe tried to free me and they killed him for it.” Finn felt his stomach drop. No. “He is going to kill her, too. He means to kill Disa. Go to her. Protect her. You can rescue me later.”

  “Rurik…”

  “Make sure she is safe. Then come for me. He has to take me home if he wishes to seize control. I'll be safe. Go.” Finn could hear men speaking in low tones fast approaching. “Finn, I love her. I'm going to marry her. I knew it from the moment I kissed her. You must protect her.” The voices were just outside the tent. “This is not a request.” He was speaking as Jarl now, not a brother. Finn must act the warrior and obey.

  Finn shoved the cloth back into Rurik's mouth and Rurik closed his eyes briefly, relieved. Finn bent low and kissed his brother on the cheek. “I will come for you.”

  With that he slid back under the tent, back into the smoke and terror filled night.

  “Wake up.” Disa heard a voice through the fog of sleep but her eyelids were too heavy to lift. “Disa, wake up.”