Captive Mail (3 page)

Who were al these women and where were their males?

On Valhal a it was virtual y unheard of for a female to live on her own, as she was considered a valuable asset to her family. The king and queen were trying to change attitudes to women and had brought in many wil ing females from Earth to make up for the Valhal a shortage, but here in the mountains, the tribes were reluctant to change with the times.

Harlan hissed as Frytha’s comb tangled with one of the smal braids at the front of his hair. She paused to examine the braids and then careful y replaited them.

“He’s ready,” Frytha announced. “Let’s take him to the temple.”

Harlan was unceremoniously hauled to his feet, his hands chained behind his back and a rope tied around his neck.

He wasn’t offered any clothes or shoes and two more female guards moved into place behind him as he left the smal chamber. He was stil weak and every step was an effort. Was he going to be sacrificed? It seemed likely and he wasn’t sure he could escape his fate. If he only knew the king had survived, he would go wil ingly to his death.

The air was hot and humid and the walk along the winding stone hal ways seemed interminable. At last they final y approached a series of shal ow steps, which led up to a larger structure constructed from gleaming rose-colored marble. From within the building came the high-pitched sound of voices. As they ascended the steps, Harlan almost stumbled and one of the guards put a restraining hand under his elbow.

At the top of the steps there was a wide-open space surrounded by tal columns. Harlan was marched into the center and pushed down onto his knees. The chatter of voices grew louder until it seemed to beat against his senses and mirror the frantic pounding of his heart. He forced himself to breathe deeply. If he were to die, he would do so with dignity and honor.

“Al hail the goddess! Al hail the princess!”

The female voices took up the cry and the line of women parted in front of him. With al his courage, Harlan forced his gaze upward to the two figures descending the remaining stairs. Both of the figures were female. It was impossible to judge their age or appearance because both wore golden masks that obscured their faces and long cloaks that swept the steps.

The tal er of the women kept moving forward until she stood at the bottom of the steps a few feet away from Harlan.

“What have you brought to the Temple of Freya?”

One of the guards stepped forward and bowed. “We bring you a captured male to use as you wish.”

Harlan tensed as the woman came closer and circled him.

“The offering is accepted.”

A chorus of cheers erupted, but Harlan stil wasn’t sure if he had been reprieved.

“Have him marked in my daughter’s name and then send him to the handmaidens’ palace to prove his worth.”

More cheering began and one of the guards tugged on the rope, forcing Harlan to his feet.

“Wait!” he shouted. “Where is my king? At least tel me that!”

The tal er priestess paused and looked past him to the guards. “He is insolent. Make sure he learns not to speak to those who are far above him.”

“Yes, my princess.” The guard shoved Harlan so hard that he almost fel over. “Never speak to the priestess without her leave again, you cur!”

As they dragged him away, Harlan started to struggle.

“Where is my king? For the love of Thor, my lady,
tell me
!”

But no one answered him and a glancing blow to the side of his head put al further thoughts of antagonizing anyone out of his mind. He was herded down into the cel ars below the temple and chained to a wal . The sound of a whip being unfurled made him clench his teeth. If the women didn’t wish to help him, he would forgo al his usual instincts to protect females and fight his way out of this predicament or die trying.

*

“Oh my goodness, Inga. He is perfect!”

Inga removed the heavy gold headdress and laid it careful y on the table.

“He is certainly acceptable for the task, Mother.”

She didn’t want to talk to Sigrun, her mother, quite yet.

The sight of the big, dark-haired male kneeling in the temple had shaken her more than she had anticipated.

She’d known that her time for mating was approaching, but seeing the male there, watching his muscled chest rise and fal , had disconcerted her. And his eyes! When he’d stared so boldly at her, she’d had the strangest feeling that she’d seen him before and that he could see into her soul.

Sigrun seemed unaware of the direction of Inga’s thoughts as she removed her ceremonial robes and washed her hands. She sat down and put her feet up on the seat in a very un-goddess-like manner. “He is exactly like my vision too, even down to those three braids of hair at his temple.”

“So you said, Mother.” Inga al owed one of the servants to remove her heavy cloak and sank down onto the nearest chair. “I hope he learns to accept his fate, though. He didn’t seem very grateful.”

“He’l learn, my dear. They al do eventual y.” Sigrun poured some wine and handed a cup to Inga. “A few days in the handmaidens’ quarters wil make him far more mal eable.” She glanced at Inga over the brim of her goblet.

“I expect you to be in charge of his training. He wil , after al , be your responsibility.”

“I know that.” Inga sighed. “And I had to start by ordering him to be punished.”

She remembered his desperate plea to her about his king. Could a male real y be concerned about anyone other than himself? Her studies told her that men were universal y selfish and the tales of the other women at the temple had only confirmed it. He was tal er and broader than her and more muscular. She wondered how it might feel to spar with him in a mock battle, to feel his strength pitted against hers…

“Are you going down to see him now, dear?” her mother inquired.

“I think I’l wait until he’s recovered from his beating, mother.”

“No, dear, he needs to see you now. He needs to understand that you ordered his punishment and that you stand by your decision.”

“You make it sound as if I should be the one wielding the whip!”

“Inga.” Her mother fixed her with a firm stare. “You should be, but I know times have changed. In your grandmother’s day, she would’ve whipped him herself and made him crawl around on al fours behind her while he was stil bleeding.”

Inga repressed a sigh. She’d heard al the horrific stories about her grandmother far too many times to be shocked.

“I’d rather face him with my sword, Mother, and best him that way.”

“If he can be bested. He looked like rather a formidable warrior to me.”

Inga reluctantly got to her feet. “I’l go and see him, then.”

She hesitated. “What should I tel him about his new life here?”

Sigrun sighed. “That is up to you, dear. Mayhap you should wait until after he’s been here for a while to reveal everything. He might balk. Some of them do.”

“He can’t escape his destiny, mother. The goddess has spoken.”

“That depends whether he believes in your goddess or not, doesn’t it? I thought I heard him cal ing out to Thor.”

“I’l
make
him accept his fate.”

Her mother smiled. “Good luck with that.”

“It is an honor for him to be chosen!”

“You and I both know that, but, as you are about to find out, most males are rather stubborn and prone to thinking that they know better than us about absolutely everything.”

Inga left her mother and went down through the many levels of the temple complex until she reached the cel ars where wrongdoers were held. There was a guard at one of the doors who nodded to her and let her into the smal cavernous room. The male was chained to the wal , his back already marked with the lines of the whip.

The guard wielding the whip came to attention and bowed to Inga.

“I have punished him, Princess.”

“Good.”

Inga forced herself to walk around and view the man. His cheek was pressed against the stone wal . Despite the fact that she hated to see anyone treated like this, she had to have his obedience. Despite her skil with weaponry, her mother was right, the male in front of her was a wel -

muscled warrior who could kil her.

His eyes, which were somewhere between a dark blue and a gray, fixed on her and he blinked. “It’s
you
.”

She scowled at him. “Have you learned nothing, male?

Do not speak without my leave.”

“But I’ve seen you in my dreams!”

“Princess?” the guard interrupted the prisoner. “Shal I beat him again?”

Inga ignored the guard and held up her hand. “I am not interested in your tales. Do not speak unless I give you leave.”

The male sighed. “This is ridiculous.”

“Guard, gag him for me.”

He made no effort to escape the guard as he was gagged, but Inga could see the anger in his eyes.

Somehow that made what she had to do next easier.

“Let Frytha attend to his back and then have him prepared for the handmaidens’ quarters. I want my brand on him as soon as possible.” She stared at the male. “I suggest you learn to curb your tongue or I wil cut it out.”

As she talked, the guard released one of his hands from the restraints above his head and the male swung at Inga, catching her off guard and almost pul ing her into his arms.

She shoved him away and he fel awkwardly, one arm stil pinned to the wal .

Inga righted herself and fought a shudder. It seemed that the other women were right after al . No male could be trusted.

“Chain him back up and give him another dozen lashes.

Then take him to Frytha.” She glared at the male. “You wil learn to behave or you wil be kil ed.”

His eyebrows rose and he turned away from her and His eyebrows rose and he turned away from her and faced the wal . The threat didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. Inga walked out, her head held high while she tried to puzzle out what he’d meant about seeing her in his dreams. Was it possible that he’d had a vision just as her mother had? And if so, what did that mean? She winced as she heard the sound of the whip resume and prayed that her male real y was as healthy as he looked. Hopeful y he would soon understand that he must submit to her.

Otherwise, she envisaged a very difficult few weeks before she was forced to kil him.

Harlan set his teeth as the lash of the whip caught his already bleeding back. What in Thor’s name was wrong with these women? Surely he should at least be al owed to speak? He hadn’t meant to give them the satisfaction of saying anything until he’d opened his eyes and seen the blonde female standing beside him. He’d recognized her voice first from the temple and the rest of her from his dreams.

He leaned his forehead against the coldness of the stone and simply endured. If this woman had power over him, should he simply go along with whatever she wanted until she at least gave him the ability to speak freely? It seemed he had no choice in the matter. But it also meant that he might have to give up any chance of escaping… That didn’t sit wel with him at al . He was stil too weak to contemplate scaling the temple wal s, so perhaps he’d be better off doing whatever they asked of him and gaining their trust that way.

He only realized the beating had ended when two of the guards unchained him and practical y had to drag him along the stone passageways to another room. This one had a bed, which they pushed him face down on. He groaned at the softness of the linen and then winced as they chained him up again. He heard Frytha’s voice, and then she was beside him, touching his back.

“By the goddess, you are a fool. Why did you attack the princess?”

He wanted to reply, but realized they’d left the gag in place. A soft groan escaped him when Frytha started to tend to his back and he felt himself tensing. She patted his shoulder and removed the gag.

“I’l give you something for the pain. It wil also help when you are marked for the priestess.”

Harlan had no energy left to worry about that and gladly took the sleeping draught she poured into his mouth. His last memory before sleep claimed him was of a young woman bending over him and measuring the curve of his biceps and shoulder. When he woke up again, it was to a regular stabbing sensation as though his whole shoulder and chest were burning. He realized he was propped up on his side and that the unknown woman was pricking him with a needle.

He licked his lips, glad that they had at least removed the gag. “What are you doing?”

She glanced at him and he realized her eyes were a dark brown. “I’m marking you for the princess.”

She was the first person who had actual y answered him directly, and for that Harlan was distinctly grateful. “The female with the blonde hair?”

“Yes, Princess Inga.” She sat back and reviewed her work. “You wil look very wel and a credit to your owner.”

“I am not a slave.”

She sighed and went back to tormenting him with her needles.

“What is your name, female?”

“None of your business, and don’t you know that you aren’t…”

“Supposed to speak until spoken to, yes I know.” Harlan winced as she pressed on a particularly painful spot. He looked down at what he could see of his arm and torso and discovered that a surprisingly large area was now tattooed in black and blue swirling circles and lines. “Your work is beautiful. How long have I been lying here?