บท 4: WORK IN PROGRESS*** The feast and the surprise
Leif liked any excuse to enjoy himself.
He was perpetually hungry and always had an appetite, for food, for women and for war.
The night of the sacrifice was no different.
Raiding loomed on the horizon and spirits were high and men who were normally callus turned charming, if only for the night.
Leif liked to believe he was charming all the time but even he could not deny the effect of a ceremony like this.
He was afforded the greatest position to watch the ritual, alongside his brother, Raul.
Firelight bathed everyone there in a strange glow and the crowd around him chanted, a song that could lead a person astray.
Eira walked into the clearing before him, face painted black and red.
Behind her came her three daughters, clothed in gowns of white with crowns of lavender flowers in their red hairs, cradling the Ulfberht sword Eira would use for the sacrifice.
Kari lined her eyes and something shone on her brow like gold.
Doing so, made the men in the crowd actually falter in saying the words of the song.
The sisters weren't plain but they always used less flashy clothes.
But nights like this were special and the sisters revealed all their features.
Leif heard the men's sharp intake of breath close to him and decided not to stare at them.
At a nod from the Jarl's wife, the girls kneeled, bowed their heads, and lifted the sword on the palms of their hands.
Its blade bit her skin when Eira took the hilt.
Everyone watched as she slit the throat of a small stag for the sacrifice.
Blood, thick and dark, flowed into the bowl beneath it, in time to the song of the raiders.
The matriarch dipped a brush into the blood and marked herself before flicking it at her daughters.
Red dots splattered across their pale faces and necks.
The queen gestured to the bowl of blood and they took it in their arms.
They walked around, anointing the raiders leaving for the Mediterranean and those staying.
Leif grinned when they reached him and Eira slung the stag's blood across his face.
When they were finished, the sisters relinquished the blood for others to take.
The crowd began to disperse but the revels were only beginning.
The sister grabbed the goblets of wine and immediately took a large gulp from it.
Birger was still seated when someone jumped over him.
When he turned to look at her, Hertha was smiling, as if she'd been waiting to do just that.
Her eyes shining in the dark.
"Let me mark you." She murmured, showing the blood and pulling the goblet close to his head.
Birger followed her gaze skeptically, but allowed her to continue anyway.
His hand was placed on her back when she dipped a finger into the stag's blood.
He shut his eyes, feeling oddly entranced.
She dragged two fingers down each of his cheeks and onto his neck.
Birger made a noise, deep in the back of his throat, and it seemed to stay her fingers, keeping them on his skin far longer than necessary.
His eyes suddenly opened and she stopped touching him.
"Now I will mark you." He said when she moved her hands.
"I am no warrior." She replied, voice low and cheeks flushed.
Birger grinned, and took a swig of her wine.
"You could be…" Birger suggested, his fingers barely brushing her skin, and she took in a breath sharply.
"One day." He concluded.
Hertha held her breath as he drew a line of blood along her collarbone.
He gave her a grin, knowing she hated his smile.
Hertha tensed, like the ground around her feet had caught fire, when he drew a stark line of red along her jaw.
He saw Kari out of the corner of his eye.
She was just watching and he did not know whether her sights were on her sister or on him.
He felt Hertha clench her jaw when her sister finally made her way to the great hall to help her mother.
He laughed because the tension between the two of them was palpable.
Jealousy was written across the lines of their bodies, in the set of their shoulders and the curves of their mouths.
For a moment, they just looked at one another and he thought Hertha was going to say something.
But before she could say anything, Kari arrived, grabbed her by the hand and led her towards the great hall asking for help with the ritual.
Their brothers were there, drinking and laughing.
Even Sune was there.
Although not participating like everyone else was doing.
"Would you dance with me, Birger?" Was what he heard.
Turning his head, he saw Kari standing close to him while playing with her hair.
He gave a small laugh and said. "I am not very good at it."
She immediately smirked. "Nor am I."
He laughed again, a sound that washed over those nearby, and nodded to her.
And so they danced.
———————————————————
From the tables.
Freja wondered why she was watching Birger and Kari dance across the great hall.
She told herself it was to ignore Hertha, who was sitting beside her at the table.
But some of it was that he was quite good and even if he really wasn't, there was something about him that drew the eye anyway.
Kari took Birger by the arm and crushed their chests together, taking clear joy in it, while Birger laughed.
For a free man, Freja thought, he seemed quite happy.
Kari's mouth was suddenly on his.
His hands crept across her waist, her shoulder blades and her throat.
In the next instant, she was away from him, grinning and twirling with her arms in the air, her fingers moving up and down one by one.
She was flushed, the combination of the three goblets of wine Freyja had seen her drink and Birger's interaction were taking their toll.
Hertha slammed a goblet down onto the large oaken table and Freja rolled her eyes.
Her older sister was a messy blend of anger, envy, and fear and it was so easy to tease her.
"Are you jealous, sister?" Freja asked, tilting the corner of her mouth up in a smirk.
Hertha turned slowly, as if she thought Freja was actually waiting with bated breath for her, no doubt, terrible response.
Her green eyes were narrowed. "You don't know how to dance, do you?"
"Dancing is stupid." She replied through gritted teeth.
Her dirty fingers still had a harsh grip around that goblet, contemplating throwing it.
"I guess it would be to someone mostly interested in fighting. But I must say, you did very well during the ritual."
Hertha snarled, baring her teeth in a way that Freja found no different from her usual smile.
"I think I'll join them." Freja said, wanting to draw some reaction from her sister.
"I don't care." Hertha responded, even as her eyes turned stormy. "He doesn't like you."
"No." Freja agreed. "He likes Kari."
Across the room, Kari laughed and Birger buried his face in the nape of her neck.
She threaded her fingers through his long hair.
Freja assumed she must have finally drunk enough to no longer care about Hertha's or anyone else's opinions.
That was a good thing.
Perhaps, she was wising up.
"You have competition, sister. Or perhaps it is not a competition at all, for I think she has already won." Freja kept provoking her sister, not noticing she had drunk her fair share as well.
Hertha turned her pretty face into a mask of rage. "You know nothing. All you do is talk."
Freja did not dignify that with a response.
Instead she pushed away from the table and began to make her way to Birger and Kari.
Across the hall, Kari was back in Birger's arms, stumbling enough that he had to steady her.
She looked over his shoulder, verdant eyes aglow, and her happy, half-moon smile faltered.
She saw Hertha, with her clear eyes and tousled hair and violent temperament.
And saw Freja approaching, stumbling a little in her steps.
"All right you two, enough for the night. Big sister over there is in a bad mood."
Birger just stood there, appreciating the drama.
Kari nodded and thanked her sister for warning her.
Before leaving, her hands closed around Birger's blood splattered tunic, which only spurred a grin from him.
She looked back to see Hertha watching, and gave Birger a goodbye kiss.
And walked away with her sister.
After some dance and singing with other girls in the event, Birger went into the seat beside Hertha.
It was an exercise of self-control not to turn, not to be inexplicably enraged towards him.
But Hertha resisted.
Most of the night, he had been enjoying the life of a free man, something he stated wasn't his desire.
Perhaps after an hour, Hertha had stopped paying attention to him.
But now he sat down beside her, blood splattered across his face and smiling wide, like he thought she might be glad to see him.
"What are you doing here, Birger?" She asked.
He apparently did not take offense at her cold tone because he made no move to leave.
"Frankly..." He replied. "...I don't know."
He squinted for a moment and tilted his head to the side, pondering his answer.
Hertha wryly smiled. "How much have you drunk?"
Birger sighed, starting to drum his fingers against the table top. "Perhaps enough."
"Are all the girls such awful dancers?" She thought it would make him laugh but Birger's pondering expression was kept as his fingers kept pounding against the table.
"Ah...You are nervous about something." Birger said, as if he had just noticed it.
She shook her head, making herself turn her head the other way. "No, I am not."
Birger.
He was handsome, pale, long-haired and sturdy.
A warrior from a saga.
A giant tempered with kindness.
She looked across the hall to Kari, who was grinning and laughing with Freja while dancing with other people.
Hertha conceded that there was something to her sisters that most people liked, something she didn't possess.
Hertha didn't care whether she was liked.
That did not matter, she told herself.
It did not matter at all.
She had a vision for her future, to be like a völva of the stories, a Valkyrie, a maiden of death.
Birger sighed. "You are drunk, my lady."
He observed Hertha.
Her chin was resting in her hands, with an expression of deep thought.
Hertha's expression made him want to laugh.
She wryly smiled and gave Birger a look. "What do you think?"
He simply shrugged. "I thought, perhaps, you would want to spar with me tomorrow."
Hertha's face lit up and she laughed.
It was the most ridiculous and yet best offer she received recently.
Something that might cause longships to run aground.
And all for a joke that she didn't find particularly funny.
"What?" She said when noticed he was still staring at her.
Her green eyes turned dreamy and a dull ache seemed to pound through her chest.
"Are you serious?"
"I like it when you smile." He replied.
She hadn't even realized she was smiling.
"And yes, I meant what I've said." Was his response.
She simply looked at him, that ache becoming something Hertha dreaded would turn into a never-ending throb.
"What are you thinking about?" Birger questioned.
He was, yet again, staring at her.
"I wish to dance." She confessed before she could think better of it.
Birger raised his eyebrows but nodded.
"Your request is an order."
Hertha was suddenly sober, seeing his eyes the color of the sea that caused men to wander off the path and vanish.
Both of them later proceeded towards the dancing crowd.
The feast proceeded with less drama until dawn.
———————————————————
A month later
Hertha watched from the shore as her father and brothers readied themselves to leave.
Her mother was standing on the docks, speaking with her husband.
Even from this distance, she could see Birger getting ready to sail, insisting to carry a sword and shield.
He was granted a set of mail armor over some padded garb.
And all but pleaded to wear a helmet as well, less for protection and more... because he said it was cool.
She saw Eira being given a hug by Jarl Herleif.
And then.
Birger approached and stood there for the briefest moment, apparently searching for the right thing to say.
Birger only put his hands over Bertha's shoulder and nodded.
After the brief exchange, he disappeared into the crowd of raiders.
Kari elbowed her when they turned to leave the dock.
Her other sister was at her side minutes later, their mother being busy taking care of a crying Sune.
She crossed her arms over her chest, watching the longships leaving the harbor.
She let out a breath but her eyes appeared distant, like she was remembering some good times she spent training with a certain someone.
"I had a dream last night." A chill washed over her after hearing Freja's words.
Her mother had said the same thing to her earlier.
That his voyage with Herleif was doomed and if he went, he would drown.
In truth, she did not care, despite her fear of the water and the feeling that bordered on admiration for her father.
Going in a raid was something she had to do, particularly after improving so much while training recently.
But Hertha could see now that whatever her sister dreamed, she feared would come to pass.
Hertha's fingers dug into the sand and her teeth started to ache from clenching her jaw so hard.
If Freja said she'd seen him drown, their father's death would be all but confirmed.
And oh, how she hated the water.
"I believe this raid will be my father's last." she finally said.
"You've seen him die?" Hertha demanded.
"How? Did he drown?" The ships would go down in a storm, that's what her mother had dreamed, leaving his father to the wrath of the sea.
She shook her head once more. "I saw serpents. A great many of them."
Snakes did not seem likely to her, especially if, as according to Eira, they would never make port.
"It was just a dream." Hertha said dismissively.
Freja finally stared down at her, taking in her red hair and large eyes, and again she had the sensation that she was trying to fix the image in her mind.
"Yes." Freja conceded. "It probably was."
"Follow me." Hertha commanded and Freja did as she was told, wandering behind her along the beach.
———————————————————
The next day.
In the female slaves' cabin.
Tove thought it was a dream, a distant swish she had heard many times from days spent doing her work all day long.
But they were in reality arrows.
Many were being lost all at once.
It was such a calming sound that she rarely associated it with war.
Then there were screams, yells seemingly wrenched from deep within a person.
Tove was still groggy with sleep when she realized this wasn't some figment of a half-remembered dream.
This was an attack.
An arrowhead punctured the door to her cabin.
"Liv." She hissed slowly, pulling a dress on over her shift quickly.
It caught about her throat and Tove pulled it down, hearing the fabric want to give.
"Liv!" She flipped back the covers of her bed to see Liv was already gone.
She'd probably left early to begin her tasks for the day. "Damn your hardwork, Liv!"
Another arrow wedged into the wall and Tove flinched.
She scrambled back across the room to pull the kitchen knife from beneath her bed.
It was an ugly thing, with a bare handle and almost dull blade.
She knew it wasn't a proper weapon, but it should strike true if Tove could get up the nerve to use it.
There were so many conflicting noises that she couldn't concentrate on figuring out what was happening.
Yells, crashes, clangs, thumps.
Raids on the Folke village had happened before, largely earlier than her time under her Master and Mistress, and so there was no plan that she knew to follow.
Protection would have to come first and with most of the capable man gone, it would be far too hard to find it.
While the Jarl's wife had some men around her, they wouldn't come to rescue her.
Tove's heart was pounding as she realized that her best chance would be to try to make it to the great hall.
She could not just stay cowering in her tattered cottage.
But she feared that she couldn't just do nothing at all.
She made herself take several deep breaths, made her hands tighten on the knife so that they would stop shaking.
She needed a way to the great hall without being seen.
That was unlikely, given that she was fairly sure the raiders were outside her door.
They could push in at any moment and she'd be dead, weapon or not.
Once more, she took a shaky breath and then she opened the door of the cottage.
Sweat began to bead on the back of her neck.
For a moment, she couldn't see anything.
There was just a barrage of smoke and dirt and moving bodies, none of which seemed to take notice of her.
But across the way, the air was clear and Tove locked eyes on her.
Liv.
She was on her back in the street, a raider standing over her with a short axe.
There was blood on the weapon, sliding down the metal to stain the girl's clothes.
Tove cocked her head to the side, oddly entranced by that detail when nothing else around her seemed to be in focus.
Fortunately, the enemy moved on and joined the fight elsewhere.
Liv.
She ran across the street and somehow, she made it through the crowd and the weapons and the smoke to be in front of her friend.
Blood stained her friend's hair red.
It was the only color she could see, the only thing she could hear.
All around her was the clang of metal against shield, metal against flesh.
Death.
She dropped to her knees beside her.
Liv was staring blankly upward, her blue eyes taken on a cloudy sheen.
The gash across her midsection had stopped bleeding, but with a formed pool around her body.
Tove put her head to Liv's chest anyway, the other girl's blood warm against her cheek.
But she heard no heartbeat.
"Liv." she whispered, over and over again like she might respond.
"Liv, Liv, Liv, please."
Her friend only looked upward, blonde hair matted against her throat, flowers and fabric around her as if she was laid upon some grand funeral pyre.
By rights, the wound shouldn't have been fatal.
How many hundreds of times had raiders survived this sort of injury?
But Liv was so thin, so small.
A blow meant to just hinder a warrior had taken her life.
Tove turned, wanting to discern anything about the unknown raiders.
Often, invaders carried banners that showed their loyalty to one leader or another.
But there were no banners.
There was just chaos, unrest that didn't truly seem to be the point of the fighting at all.
Everyone else on the road appeared injured but not in a truly life threatening manner.
These people wanted to incapacitate.
Her eyes finally locked on a tall dark-haired warrior.
She had never seen him before.
And he was standing above Hakon's body.
It was not easy to determine whether Hakon's death was the accident that Liv's was.
But suddenly, it did not matter.
The black haired raider bent to pull a short sword from Hakon's chest.
Tove's vision blurred, red seeming to cover everything in sight.
She fell to the ground.
—————————————————————
(11/08/2020)
*Hey there! Thanks for reading my work! I hope this chapter is of your liking. If so, I wish to recommend my other stories to you.
Any ideas for powers, equipment, girls and anything else that might be a good match with my fic is more than welcomed. I might not use anything, but you will have my gratitude for trying.
If this chapter is a mess of grammatical errors, please wait until I promptly try to fix it. But for that i need your feedback.
Thanks as always for your time, hope you have a fantastic day and please stay safe. Bye.
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