Chapter 20: Chapter 20

FJORN

Kendra’s pained whimper made me drop my guard, and Ingrid seized the opportunity to exploit my weakness. I was always too focused on her, ready to die to ensure she only ever experienced pure joy. The glint of iron yanked my attention back to Ingrid.

As I raised my axe, the force of the impact reverberated through my hand. I shoved Kendra back, hearing her hit the ground. I couldn’t afford to look back, though. I had to trust she was okay. The heat from the fire seared my face and chest, smoke filling my lungs. I watched Ingrid pace before me, taking a deep breath.

Her lips were moving, but my anger was a roaring inferno, drowning out her words. She lunged again, but I sidestepped her.

“Throw her away and we can forget all this,” Ingrid panted.

“I will slit your throat and watch you bleed,” I retorted.

***

I could tell Kendra was gone without looking. The air itself seemed different. My anger and rage morphed into something darker. I shot Ingrid a grin before lunging at her, gripping her hair tightly. She screamed as I dragged her to the ground, kicking her in the chest and pinning her down with my foot. As her axe swung up, I dodged, but not before a sharp pain shot through my shoulder.

When I looked up, she was back on her feet. I heard heavy footsteps behind me and turned to see a large man charging at me, knife in hand. I grabbed his shirt, smashing my head into his. He stumbled back just as Ingrid swung her axe again. She missed me but hit the man in the neck. Blood sprayed out, coating my chest.

Ingrid’s cries filled the air. “Varg! NO!”

Sten and Ulf grabbed her arms, pulling her away. That was easier than I’d anticipated. Ignoring the pain in my shoulder, I began searching for Kendra.

“Where is she?” I asked.

“I saw her with Helga, heading to your house,” Ulf replied, leading Ingrid away. I could feel the eyes of the entire village on me. I ordered the fire to be put out before heading home, fighting the urge to run to her. I had to appear strong, despite the pain.

I flung open the door to my house. There she was, sitting at the table. My heart pounded. I needed her. I heard the chair scrape against the floor as she bolted to her feet to come to me. I halted her with a look. Not yet. Soon, I would hold her.

Just then, I realized there were others in the room. “You may leave,” I said, and the house quickly emptied. I fell to my knees, taking slow, deep breaths. I couldn’t touch her yet. My blood was still boiling with rage. I wouldn’t touch her until I had control. She wasn’t ready to see that side of me.

***

“Where are you cut?” she asked.

“What?”

“The blood. Where are you cut?” She pulled away from me, looking at my chest.

“It’s not mine,” I said, glancing down at myself before shifting my gaze to meet hers. She looked both relieved and nauseous.

“What about your head?” she asked, touching my hairline gently.

“Oh,” I said, reaching up to touch the tender spot. “I guess his head was harder than mine.”

“He?” she asked, looking confused. I just wanted to comfort her the way she comforted me.

“I need to wash this off,” I said, walking over to the bath, still filled with water. “Do you want to come?” I asked. She didn’t lift her head to look at me but gave me a soft nod.

The water was cold, but I needed to get the blood off me. As I reached down to get the cup from the bottom of the tub, she held onto me so tightly that I almost lifted her off her feet.

“Can you let go for just a little while?” I asked, looking at her. She was practically curled up in a ball, hanging from my arm.

Finally, she looked at me, shaking her head. With a sigh, I picked her up and hopped into the tub, splashing water onto the ground. She clung to my chest, shivering.

“It’s cold,” she said.

“I tried to warn you,” I replied, chuckling.

“What about my dress?” she asked, looking at her soaked clothes.

“You need some Viking clothes anyway,” I said.

She shot me a look that made me laugh. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“You’re my frue now. You need to look the part.” Her eyes widened as if with some sort of realization. She pulled off her dress, which excited me until it smacked me in the face. I watched her climb out of the tub and up the ladder to the loft, where she disappeared under the blankets. What had I done to upset her now?

“Are you mad?” I shouted up to her, washing the blood away.

“No!” she shouted back.

“You seem mad.”

“Nope.”

“Are you sure?”

“Shut up, Fjorn!”

Yep, she was mad. But what had I done this time? I hadn’t technically killed anyone, and it wasn’t my blood, so she knew I was okay. I knew the water was cold, but she wouldn’t let go, so into the bath she went.

***

After a while, I got out of the tub, dried myself off, and climbed the ladder. I couldn’t see any part of her, just a small lump under all the furs and blankets. I leaned against one of the posts and waited.

“Go away,” she said, still not coming out.

“I’m cold and naked. Can I come in?”

“No. Go away.”

“Why? I thought you could warm me up.”

“No.”

“I didn’t kill her or her friend, so why are you mad?”

“First of all,” she said, shooting up from under the blankets, “I wasn’t mad, nor would I be mad if you killed her. I was worried about you. And second of all, you lied to me. Now get out.”

“When did I lie to you? And can I please come to bed? I’m cold.”

“No, Fjorn, you can’t. You know what you can do?”

“What, frue?”

“Don’t call me that! You can get out and go get me some clothes,” she said, disappearing back under the blankets.

Cursing under my breath, I climbed back down the ladder and threw on some pants. What had I done to make her so mad? “Okay, I’m going to get you some clothes,” I called up to her.

“Good. Leave now,” she called back.

***

Stepping outside, the air was still heavy with ash and smoke, even though the fire had been put out. Looking around at the buildings, it hit me. Ingrid had burned down our food storage. I felt the rage boil inside of me once again. I stormed into the middle of the village, searching for some women known for their clothing skills.

“Astrid, Hilda, how are you ladies?” I asked, walking up to some women sitting at looms.

Astrid rolled her eyes, and Hilda giggled. “How may we help you, Fjorn?” Astrid asked.

“My frue needs some clothes. Could you ladies help?”

“For you, no. For our frue, yes,” Hilda said. Astrid and Hilda were sisters, and Sten, Ulf, and I used to chase them and pull their hair as children. I don’t think they ever forgave us.

“Thank you, ladies. Frue is at my house.” With a nod, I walked away. I needed to find Sten and Ulf. But most importantly, Ingrid.

***

After walking around, I saw Ulf and Sten leaning against a small shed. “Where is she?”

Ulf took a step back and looked at Sten. “Inside,” was all Sten said as I threw open the door. Ingrid lay on the dirt floor, hands and feet tied, her mouth gagged.

“Should we kill her?” Sten asked.

“No, we should skin her and then kill her,” Ulf added.

“Seriously, who hurt you?” Sten asked incredulously. I just stood there, my mind flooding with ways to make her suffer. Shaking my head, I felt a grin creep onto my face.

“Break her legs. No, break one leg,” I said. Then, bending down to look her in the eyes, I growled. “Thank my brother when you see him. If not for him, I’d break both.” Rising, I headed toward the door. “At nightfall, throw her to the wolves,” I said, giving Ingrid one last look before walking away.

Ingrid’s screams echoed behind me as I made my way back to Kendra. I knew what I had to do now. I couldn’t let her cloud my judgment again. I should have killed Ingrid long before today.