Coming To Valhejn Ch 01

The acrid scent of smoke followed the man into the room. He pushed aside the remains of the splintered door and stepped over the shattered bar. He readjusted his grip on the axe.

"Come."

His accent was thick, but the word was clear enough. Behind him, the light of a dozen fires danced toward the darkening sky. The screams were intermittent, now. This was the last of the huts, and it had taken no small effort to breach it. Sweat ran in rivulets along the dirt and blood that coated his thick arms.

The man surveyed the small house, its mud daub walls and barricaded window. He stepped around the small table and nudged the pile of furs on the bed.

"Come. Out."

He had not seen her crouched in the shadow of the broken door, but he heard her rush. He spun and caught the girl's wrist, squeezing it until the pitifully small knife fell from her grasp. She screeched in fury, twisted in vain, and kicked at his knees.

The invader held her at arm's length and laughed. "Good," he said. "You fight."

"I'll kill you!" she screamed.

"Will you?" he asked. A bright smile appeared behind his red beard.

"I'm not afraid of you!" she spat, still clawing at his arm with her free hand. He let her go on struggling, pulling her off her feet with a bored swing of his arm.

"I see that."

"Let me go," she said, attempting to slap his face.

He pulled her around and tossed her onto the bed as if she weighed no more than an errant puppy. "There," he said. "I let you go."

She stared up at him, furious and breathless and bewildered. Her straw-colored hair was scattered over her face, and she pushed it out of her eyes with a trembling hand. Finally, she found the courage to hiss, "You will not touch me again."

He stroked his beard in a show of contemplation. Then he squatted in front of her. She was a hardly out of girlhood, he thought, not more than twenty summers in that pale, angry, face. As he leaned closer, she attempted to move away, and he slammed the axe onto the bed.

She froze, returning his fierce gaze.

"I will touch you," he said softly, "when I choose to touch you." One brawny hand caressed her cheek. She flinched, but did not try to fight him. "Do you understand?"

"They will come back," she said, "and they will kill you all."

One of the thick, filthy eyebrows rose. "Will they?" he asked. "The skinny boys with the little daggers? Or the old men with their bows?"

Unshed tears glittered in her wide, green eyes. "My father and my brother - "

"What makes you think," he asked, "I haven't already met them?"

She didn't answer. Her face contorted with hatred and fear, from contempt to terror, and back to courage. He stood up and surveyed her until she crossed her arms over her chest.

"And they left you... all alone..."

"They did not leave me!" she spat. "I chose to stay and fight!"

"And the other women? They did not fight? Where are they?"

She glared.

"I suppose they're all safely hidden away with the children?"

"I know what happens to your victims," she snapped.

He shook his head. "You don't. There are never any left to tell."

She was shaking, but one hand moved slowly across the bed. "There are stories."

He waited until her fingers had nearly brushed the handle before he pulled the axe out of reach. Her tiny fist curled.

"Yet, here you are." His face clouded. "They leave a little girl to defend? And they call me a barbarian."

Her pale face stared up at him defiantly. "I'm not a girl, and I'm not alone," she said.

"The dead outside have left you so," he answered.

Her lips trembled, but she shook her head. "You'll never find the others."

"It's strange," he said. "I've looked for my prize in many places, on many raids. I think, at last, that you'll do."

Something in his voice broke the spell over her. She was on her feet in an instant, and her lithe form twisted past his grasp. For a moment, it seemed she would reach the doorway. As his arm circled her hips, she let out a scream and grabbed at the table, knocking it on its end. "No, no!" She kicked and clawed.

He gasped once, as an elbow caught his chin. "Not helpless," he commented. Then, he pushed her onto her back on the dirt floor and pressed his knee into her chest. One hand sufficed to pin both of hers over her head, and she stopped screaming long enough to spit at him.

He slapped her cheek, not hard, but firmly.

She stopped fighting.

"You are not stupid," he growled. "You come back, as my prize, or you stay here."

She blinked. "I can stay?"

"With the other bodies."

Her lips curled. "Kill me, then."

He bent over her and smiled. "I'm not a fine man?"

She screeched with outrage as his lips brushed hers. "You're a monster. You're a barbarian! You're -"

"No, fine lady, I was baptized at the monastery, I swear by Odin." He pointed through the open doorway. "Every one of use, baptized, before we gutted the monks."

She convulsed beneath him. "You, you,..." She was shaking and her breathing grew shallow. "No - no, you wouldn't -"

"I would never offer my bed to a woman while unbaptized," he said. He leered at the horror on her face. "More than a bed, I promise. My share of the silver from St. Mark's. A warm house in winter, three good slaves, and a good herd of goats. I ask only a... willing reception, now and then."

She started to struggle again, kicking and aiming at parts he would loathe to have injured. "No, no, little one," he said. His hand caught hold of the hair at the back of her head and pulled her closer until they were nose to nose. "It's an honorable offer. You'll have to leave off this show." His other hand caught hold of her worn smock and jerked it across her shoulder. It ripped in a jagged arc from her collarbone down across her breast. She turned her face away and closed her eyes as he studied her. "Good," he murmured. "Good. You have not wed yet?"

"I am promised to - "

"So, not wed." He traced one finger along her neck. "I have need of..."

"I'd rather die!"

"That's not difficult to arrange. I think you will appreciate my generosity soon." He paused and his dark blue eyes narrowed. "I could leave you for other men."

She scowled. "What difference is there between you and any other monster?"

"I do not take what is not given," he said. "I will take what is offered."

"Offered? To you?" A hard, dry laugh escaped her. "Never."

"Should I give you over, then? I have eighteen hungry men who can find all manner of uses for you between now and Valhejn." He trailed off.

"Kill me," she said.

"Kill you?" he chuckled softly. His free hand wandered gently over her stomach and hip. "Before you've experienced life? Before you've tasted pleasure? What sort of man do you think I am?"

Her face flushed as she struggled to avoid his touch. "You're not a man," she said, gasping with effort. She writhed against his grasp, unwilling to accept that she was truly trapped. "You're - monsters - you're - "

"I could easily prove to you that I am a man."

She shook her head wildly and struggled until he was certain she would injure herself. "You're not listening, little dragon," he said. "I won't take you here. Not like this."

"Kill me," she spat.

"I'm a barbarian," he said cheerfully, "but I'm not wasteful." He stood and pulled her to her feet. She clutched at the front of her torn garment and stumbled ahead of him as he kept a firm grip on the hair at the nape of her neck. "Come. We don't want to keep my men waiting," he said.

She almost fell several times, desperately trying to see the smoldering remains of her village while his hand remained tangled in her hair. "This way," he growled, pulling her past the grotesquely tangled corpses. Whenever she tried to look more closely, desperate to recognize the remains, he twisted his grip and pushed her chin skyward.

"Don't," he said, and his voice was gentle. "You'll be glad, not knowing."

She shuddered.

The sound of weeping grew louder as they navigated a slope down toward the animal pens. The man released his grip on her hair so suddenly that the young woman fell. When she saw what awaited her, she scrambled to her feet and ran the rest of the way. At the bottom of the hill, a crowd of women and children were huddled together. The pen's former occupants could be heard, far away, being herded the eight miles to the coast.

The man followed more slowly, watching the young woman being swallowed in embraces and cries of relief.

"You're alive!" The older women were sobbing. "You're alive!"

"I'm sorry," the girl was saying. "I don't know how they found you. I'm sorry - "

Small children gripped the worn, muddied skirts of their matriarchs and stared at the big, red man as he entered the sheep pen. He knew that his furs and tattoos were as other worldly to them as their thin, hollow frames were to him. He waited for the susurration of fear to settle before he pointed his axe at the young woman.

"Now, you understand."

She looked around her. "I don't."

"You come with me, or you stay," he paused, "with the sheep."

The crowd of women and children did not understand, but he saw the change in her. All fear dissipated in an instant. "You would not dare," she said.

He shrugged. "If I give them mercy today, they will only starve in the winter. Look at you all. What kind of men let you live in such hunger?" No one answered.

She crossed the pen back to him. "Please," she said. "Please, leave us to starve."

He had to lean down to meet her gaze properly. "No." He tapped her nose with one bloodied finger. "Choose. Come, or stay."

She was quick, he would give her that, but he anticipated her attack. One arm spun her about and pinned her against his chest. The other leaned the heavy axe head against her bare shoulder. "Listen to me," he said softly into her ear. She squirmed, and her fingernails dug into his arm. "I do not often barter with this shore, but I will make you an offer."

Her chest heaved under his hairy, filthy arm, but she stopped struggling.

He pointed his axe at the crowd before them. "I'll leave them to starve, as you requested, but you know my price." She stiffened. "Before you answer, think carefully. I will not ask again. Come, or stay."

There was a moment's silence between them; the twilight held its breath, and no birds dared to sing. The only sound was the soft whimpers of the children on the other side of the pen.

"I'll come," she whispered.

"If you do not honor this bargain," he growled, "I will return here and- "

"I said, I will come!" she cried.

He released her, and she stumbled away from him as if his touch burned her. "Then come," he commanded. He turned and strode away, up the hill, as if the mass of dirty humanity behind him no longer existed.

The young woman stood a moment, torn, aching to embrace the women who stared at her in horror. Then, she turned and ran after him.