The Viking's Witch (19 page)

Without a warning, he scooped her up onto his shoulder and carried her to the front of the gathering hall. He set her down, then slapped her buttocks hard. “
Fara innan stokks
!”

“What? I’ve got no idea what that means. And don’t ya touch—”

“Rothgar.” He opened the door and gave her a little shove.

There was no mistaking Nordskog’s actions. He wanted her to go back inside and stay with Rothgar. She didn’t even consider protesting. The gods only knew what would have happened to her if Nordskog hadn’t come along when he had. But why was he creeping around the village in the middle of the night?

“Rothgar.” She nodded and hurried inside. “See, I’m safe.
Gut
?”

“
Ja
,” Nordskog growled and shut the door.

She slumped against the door and closed her eyes. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, nearly drowning out the sounds of her ragged breathing. That had been close,
too close
.

Tears welled, and she bolted for the stairs. Her legs wobbled and threatened to collapse under her as she ran up to the bedchamber. She flung the door open, then closed, and locked it behind her. Rothgar lay on his back, snoring away as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

She kicked off her boots and slipped into bed, cuddling close against Rothgar’s broad chest. Lying next to him made her feel safe, as if nothing could ever harm her. He was all she had in the world, and she’d never leave his side again.

Rothgar would be furious with her if he ever found out what had happened—nay,
nearly
happened—to her tonight. She shivered and pulled the bedclothes over her shoulder. “I love ya, Rothgar, more than anything in the whole world,” she whispered as she draped her arm across his waist. “Pray take me home with ya soon.”

Rothgar bent over the washing bowl and splashed cool water on his face. It helped him wake up and regain his senses. His head stung a little, and he had a sour taste in his mouth. By Thor, how much mead had he swallowed last night?

He rubbed his temples and glanced out the window over the bed. The bright sunshine streaming into the room told him that it was nearly midday. He bent over the bowl again to wash his face and clean his teeth.

Odaria had let him sleep late, and he’d needed it. For the first time since he had landed on this cursed isle, he’d finally had a full night’s sleep. Except for a pleasant dream of Odaria cuddling up next to him in the night, his blissful rest had not been disturbed. He straightened up and dried his face on a cloth. Now he felt refreshed and ready for the day.

The welcome aroma of pork and eggs greeted him as he opened the door and made his way downstairs. His mouth watered, and his stomach rumbled at the thought of the hearty morning meal Odaria must be preparing for him. He entered the main room and froze. What in the name of Odin’s throne was this?

Odaria stood at the fireplace with her back to the room, stirring something in a pot. She looked over her shoulder at him, then glanced at the man seated at the table. He caught a worried expression on her face before she turned around again and busied herself over the fire.

He stared at his unwanted guest. The man ignored him, intensely focused on mopping egg yolks off a plate with a chunk of bread. He marched across the room and stopped next to the table. “Nordskog, what are you doing in here? You know you’re not supposed to come inside.”

Nordskog looked up from the plate and popped the bread into his mouth. He chewed it slowly and didn’t answer.

Odaria stepped to his side and slid her arm around his waist. “He has been here all morning, asking for you. I wouldna let him wake you on account of … you were so tired last night.”

He nodded and gave her a quick kiss. Although he was grateful for the good night’s sleep, she should have woke him when Nordskog arrived. The man’s presence unnerved him, and he seemed to distress Odaria as well. What did he want?

“Did he touch you? What has he been doing?”

Odaria moved a little closer to him. “Nay, he didna do anything to me. When I came down this morning I found him sitting outside the door. He barged in and wouldna leave.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “He polished a sword for a while, then sewed up holes in his socks. He looked hungry, so I fed him. Do you wish me to cook you something to eat?”

He shook his head. His appetite had faded. Finding Nordskog so close to Odaria sent a chill up his spine. What was he doing here? Nordskog acted very casual for a man who had just eaten the morning meal that by all rights should have been his. His unusual visit made a bold statement. It was obvious that Nordskog wanted something from him, but what?

He scratched his beard. Why hadn’t Nordskog gone raiding with the other men this morning? He must have had a good reason to stay behind and miss all the excitement. Had he sought out Odaria because his leg troubled him?

Rothgar cleared his throat and leaned on the table, hovering over Nordskog. At this distance, he found himself gazing at the bits of egg yolk that had dripped into his filthy, knotted beard. “What brings you here? What do you want?”

Nordskog stood.

Rothgar instinctively reared back and rested his right hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to defend himself if necessary. Although Nordskog had never harmed him and was behaving calmly at the moment, he couldn’t be trusted not to snap and go into a frenzy. Nordskog glanced at Odaria, then headed to the door. “Come with me, Rothgar.”

He followed Nordskog out of the gathering hall and up the path that led to the center of the village. To his surprise, Nordskog’s rotted leg looked nearly healed. He walked with a slight limp but otherwise appeared healthy and hearty. How was that possible?

“I see you’re walking fine. The leg is better?”

“
Ja
.” He nodded. “Your witch’s cure worked fast. Rothgar looked around the deserted village. There were no familiar sounds of men laughing and chatting as they played games, gutted fish for supper, or chopped wood. The entire village had a dead, unearthly feel to it. It seemed as if he and Nordskog were the last people left alive in the world. The odd sensation set his nerves on edge.

Nordskog paused next to a brown tent and rummaged in a leather satchel lying on the ground. He withdrew a small bag of tobacco and dropped it into his waist pouch. Rothgar rolled his eyes. He knew it was pointless to tell Nordskog not to rob Karnik’s men while they were out raiding and stealing whatever they could carry.

“Everyone sailed to Vestrey before sunrise,” Nordskog said. “We are the only ones left … aside from your witch.”

A chill rippled through him, and a terrible thought crossed his mind. Karnik’s men had taken the
knarrs
and were miles away. What if they decided to sail home from Vestrey and leave him stranded here?

“They are coming back, aren’t they?” He cursed to himself. The question had come out too quickly, and the obvious worry in his voice surprised him.

Nordskog shot him a sideways glance. “
Ja. My
men won’t leave without
me
.”

He frowned and followed Nordskog to the far edge of the village. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Part of him wanted to grab Nordskog by the front of his tunic and order him to say what he was thinking, but he held back. Such violent actions would not be prudent now. He had to think of Odaria’s safety. There was no telling what Nordskog would do if he set his mind on harming her. Right now, he needed to be patient. In his own time, in his own way, Nordskog would tell him what he wanted.

After a few minutes, Nordskog stopped walking and stood next to a blue tent. He yanked the heavy canvas off the main support and tossed it aside. Rothgar stared down at the man lying on his side wrapped in a gray blanket. Nordskog kicked the man’s leg, but he didn’t move. “Karnik went looking for this one, then left without him.”

Rothgar bent to get a better look at the man. Why had Nordskog shown him this? “So? Is he drunk?”

Nordskog took the bag of tobacco he’d stolen out of his waist pouch and opened it. “No, he’s dead. I smashed in his head last night.”

He straightened up. “Why? What made you do a thing like that?”

Nordskog shrugged and put a pinch of tobacco in his mouth. “He tried to take something that wasn’t his.”

“Is that so? You stand there and tell me this while you’ve got stolen tobacco in your face.” He let out a sigh.

Over the years, he had learned how to cautiously deal with the
berserkrs
. For the right price, they could be reasoned with and would fight to the death in battle—provided it served their purposes. There were no better allies to have during a crisis, yet their self-serving natures and extreme violence made them outcasts.

“I know you dislike Karnik, but you cannot go around killing his men, Nordskog. He’d toss you off the ship for this.”

He stared at the dead man and frowned. Now he knew why Nordskog wanted to talk to him. He was probably hoping that he could smooth things over with Karnik. Karnik hated the
berserkrs
and looked for any reason to deny them food, water, and riches. If the
berserkrs
fell out of favor with Karnik, they would not be allowed on any more of his raids.

“What in the name of Valhalla did he do? Try to take a bit of food from your cook fire?”

Nordskog spat a stream of tobacco juice on the ground. “No. He went after your witch.”

The air drained from his lungs, and he took a step back. “What? How? She—”

“She left the gathering hall and went wandering last night. He crept up on her and tried to have at her.” Nordskog chuckled. “He got a rock to the skull instead.”

He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks to the gods. By Odin’s mercy, Nordskog had been nearby to rescue Odaria. But what if he hadn’t been there? He shuddered at the thought. And where had he been when all this happened? Upstairs, drunk, and of no help to Odaria at all. Once again, he was a failure at protecting the woman he cared for.

“I heard Karnik’s men talking last night. They think the girl’s bewitched you and you’re not right in your head. They’ve turned against you,” Nordskog said quietly.

He rubbed his beard and nodded. “I know. Karnik and I have exchanged words. He wants to leave. He doesn’t care if we ever find Orvind.”

“Orvind,” Nordskog grumbled. “That stupid boy’s been ate up by the fishes. He had no business taking a ship on his own. Now he’s drowned or—”

“Orvind’s alive. I can feel it in my bones.” He shot Nordskog a hard stare. “And remember who you are speaking of. My uncle—”

Nordskog spat another stream of tobacco juice on the ground. “The king’s never done anything for me except take my silver to line his pockets, noble
jarl
.”

He ignored the sarcasm. Although Karnik’s men resented the fact that the king had him sent to accompany them on this trip, they knew better than to openly voice their displeasure or insult his majesty. Powerful
jarl
or not, he was still the king’s nephew, and he had considerable influence.

“Take your witch and go home. It is not safe to stay here, for either of you.” Nordskog opened the pouch around his waist and withdrew a piece of jewelry. The silver brooch sparkled in the sunlight.

He recognized it instantly. It was the silver and jade brooch he had given to Odaria. He snatched it from Nordskog’s filthy fingers. “Where did you get this? How did—?”

“It came off when she fought him.” Nordskog nodded at the dead man. “I found it near where they struggled.”

Odaria’s attacker had gotten that close? No wonder she’d looked nervous this morning. She hadn’t been afraid of Nordskog as he’d thought. She was rattled over the assault. But why didn’t she wake him and tell him what had happened? Did she think he was incapable of protecting her?

“Thank you. I owe you—”

“The witch and I are even.” He kicked the dead man again. “She saved my leg from the rot. We’re settled.”

He glanced into Nordskog’s blue eyes. Odaria must have made quite an impression on him in order to warrant such favorable treatment. Even so, he intended to have words with her about last night. He didn’t like her keeping secrets from him.

“Karnik’s men are going to make trouble for you if we don’t leave soon,” Nordskog said. “You will not be able to control them much longer. They are tired of feeding and watering the villagers like pets. The men are eager to make sport of them.”

Nordskog gestured toward the stone church. “How long will you allow these Picts to hang in the breeze? You know their tongue. Make them tell you what you wish to know, or be rid of them. They had many chances to save themselves.”

Rothgar pinned the silver brooch to his tunic and nodded. Nordskog was right. He had wasted too much time coddling the villagers. Brennan knew where Orvind was being kept. It was time to use more drastic measures to loosen his tongue. He arched an eyebrow and glanced at Nordskog. And he knew just the person to help him.

“Would you be interested in earning an extra reward for performing some work?”

Nordskog spat on the ground. “Not for hack silver.”