The Viking's Witch (29 page)

“Crawl through.”

“Are you mad? I shan’t obey your—”

“I cannot fit through there. Crawl in and drag him out.”

“Rothgar, he’s dead. Leave him.” She tugged on his cloak with her bound hands. “You tried, but there’s no more you can do for him.”
“I said, go.” He pushed her into the opening. “Do as I say, Odaria.”

“Rothgar—”

“I buried Chester for you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Do this for me.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. Of all the things he had to say. She nodded. “Aye. As you wish.”

She took the candle from Rothgar and crawled through the narrow opening. The stench grew worse as she made her way to the inner chamber. If rescuing Orvind’s corpse earned her her freedom, then by the gods, she’d do it. Anything was better than falling into Brennan’s hands again.

As she eased through the opening in the wall, she found herself in another room. The foul smell was stronger here, and she held her breath as she raised the candle. A gasp escaped her throat. “Blessed be.”

Four corpses were propped against the outer earthen wall. In the flickering light, she saw that their hands were tied behind them. Their feet were bound with thick leather straps. A fair-haired man had his head tilted up toward the ceiling at an odd angle. She immediately recognized Orvind from her visions. Had his neck been broken?

The candle flame wavered, and she felt a light breeze on her hand. She moved closer to the pile of filthy rags that had once been Orvind. She followed the direction of his head and spotted a small ventilation slit in the ceiling.

She scowled and brought the candle closer. In the dim light, she spotted a small rivulet of water trickling down the wall near Orvind’s parted lips. She shook her head.

“Poor thing. How long did you suffer down here, trying to get a drink of water?”

Orvind opened his eyes, and she screamed.

“What happened, Odaria? Talk to me,” Rothgar shouted.

She scurried away from Orvind. He wasn’t dead.

“Are you hurt?”

“Nay,” she managed to croak out. “I, I, I just had a fright.” She leaned against the far wall and tried to calm her thundering heart. What should she do? If she gave Orvind to Rothgar, he would deliver her to Brennan. Rothgar didn’t know that Orvind was still alive, and he wouldn’t unless she told him.

“Odaria, what do you see? What is in there?”

“Four bodies, Rothgar,” she answered.

At the mention of Rothgar’s name, Orvind snapped his head in her direction. He tried to speak, but no sound came out. Familiar ice-blue eyes searched hers, pleading for help.

She looked away. This wasn’t fair. Every instinct in her body told her to help Orvind, yet if she did, she was sealing her own fate. Why did she have to make this decision? If Orvind had already been dead, then the gods would have decided this, not her. She bowed her head and prayed for guidance. Perhaps the gods were testing her. Certainly they would reward her for doing the noble thing and saving Orvind’s life.

“Bloody troublesome Norsemen, I dunno why you do not stay in your own land,” she muttered as she crawled back down the narrow passageway.

“Who are you talking to?” Rothgar called out.

“Your cousin, that’s who,” she snapped as she reached the outer room. “The damn fool’s still alive.”

Rothgar’s eyes widened. “Then why are you here? Go back and fetch him.”

She held her wrists out in front of her. “How in the name of the gods am I to do anything when I am still tied up? Release my hands, and give me your dagger.”

“Dagger?” Rothgar frowned. “Why do you need my dagger?”

She rolled her eyes. “How else am I to free your blasted cousin from his bonds? Gnaw on them with my teeth? If you wish me to help him, you must untie me.”

“Agreed.” Rothgar unsheathed his silver dagger and cut the rope binding her wrists. He handed her the blade. “I know it will be unpleasant, but you must see if the others still live.”

“Aye. Unpleasant isn’t the word.” Touching an object that belonged to a dying man was bad enough, but touching a corpse was a thousand times worse.

Once again, she inched down the passage and into the small room. Orvind’s eyes widened, and he squirmed at the sight of the dagger in her hands.

“Be still. I’ve come to free you. Rothgar’s waiting.” She pointed to the passageway and hoped he would understand.

She set the candle down in front of her and knelt at Orvind’s side. He was sitting in a puddle of waste next to a bloated corpse. Her eyes watered from the stench as she cut through the straps binding his feet. She moved quickly and sliced away the ropes holding his arms.

Orvind cried out as his hands were cut free. His right arm flopped to his side, and he screamed.

“Odaria! What are you doing to him?”

“Nothing. He’s hurt.”

She raised Orvind’s head and looked him in the eyes. His nose was broken, and his lips and face were swollen and bruised. Blood had dried and caked in his white-blond hair. “I need to check the others. Then I’ll drag you out.” She glanced at the other men bound to the wall and steeled her nerves. One touch was all she needed to know their fate.

She skipped the man closest to Orvind. The black tongue protruding from his swollen lips told her all she needed to know. He had died from a lack of water. Orvind had been the lucky one. He’d been tied up near the ventilation slit. With a start, she realized that all the rain she’d conjured up in the last few weeks had trickled down here and saved his life.

Odaria moved to the next man and rested the tip of her finger on his chest. A black flash zapped through her, and she jerked away. The sooner she confirmed that the other man was also dead, the sooner she could take Orvind and leave.

She crept over to the last man and studied him. He seemed to have no external wounds, and he looked like he was asleep. She touched his face and yelped.

“What is wrong?”

“The others are dead. I shall bring Orvind out. Reach up into the passageway as far as you can and help me. Mind his right arm and shoulder. They are broken.”

She turned to Orvind. “Come with me,” she said and started to go through the opening in the doorway. She looked back. Orvind sat where he was, unmoving.

She frowned. Now what? Was he too stunned or too injured to escape?

“Odaria, what in the name of Thor is taking you—?”

“He won’t move, Rothgar. He’s just sitting there, staring at me. I think he’s gone mad.”

Rothgar shouted something in Norse, and his words echoed into the tiny chamber. Orvind looked in the direction of Rothgar’s voice, then squeezed himself into the passageway. She waited until he was almost through before she crawled after him.

A moment later, she reached the outer chamber. Rothgar held Orvind’s shaking body and was whispering to him.

“What did you say to him to make him move so fast?” she asked.

“I told him that I’d left my peaceful home and sailed to this god-awful isle to find him. I said that if he didn’t move his ass I would crawl in there and drag him out, then give him a good thrashing.”

She couldn’t help but grin. “You have a most persuasive manner.”

“Do what you can to mend his arm, and for Odin’s sake, hurry.”

She sat in front of Orvind and ran her hands along his right arm and shoulder. Orvind screamed and hit her in the mouth with his left hand.

“Filthy bastard.” She slapped him hard across the face in return.

Rothgar grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her to his side. “Never do that again.”

She glared at Rothgar as he released her. “He hit me first. He deserves it for all the trouble he caused.”

Rothgar clenched his jaw. “Do as I say and help him.”

Odaria gently touched Orvind’s shoulder. “’Tis broken … as it was in my vision. His arm, shoulder, and collarbone are smashed. I need a long piece of cloth to make a bandage and bind it.”

Rothgar pulled off his cloak and slit it in half with his dagger.

“What are you doing?”

“Making a bandage.”

“From your good wool cloak?”

“Would you rather I use your dress? Now what?”

“His shoulder is knocked out of its socket and needs to be reset.” She clasped Orvind’s wrist and forearm and slowly moved them across his chest. Orvind whimpered, then screamed as she slid his arm across his belly. There was a loud snap, and he went limp.

“What the hell did you do, Odaria?”

She rolled her eyes. “Nothing. He’s weak. He merely passed out from the pain.” She wrapped a piece of Rothgar’s cloak around Orvind’s right shoulder and bound his arm to his chest. She yanked hard, pulling the bandage tight.

“His collarbone is broken, and his shoulder is badly wounded. His arm may never wholly recover. He’s bad off, but I think he shall live.” She draped the other part of Rothgar’s cloak around Orvind’s forearm and fastened a sling around his neck.

“Give him fresh water to drink, and clean him off as soon as you can. Any open wounds or sores must be washed out with hot fresh water, then rinsed in cool seawater. Keep his arm tied up and bound tight for three weeks at least. Give him nothing to eat but broth for the first few days. His stomach will not be able to take anything stronger.”

She finished tying the sling and sat back on her heels. “After that, feed him milk, cheese, and meat. He needs good food to strengthen his blood. After three weeks—”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Rothgar asked.

“Because I shan’t be alive much longer.”

Their gazes locked for a few seconds. Then she turned away. “Take him out of here. Be gentle. He’s frail,” she said quietly.

“What of you?”

“I will follow behind you. Do not worry. I won’t try to run. “ She sighed. “There is nowhere I can go.”

Odaria exited the
cairn
and heard Rothgar utter something that sounded like a curse.

“Rothgar, what is—?”

The words froze on her lips as she gazed around her.

Two dozen villagers surrounded the entrance to the
cairn
. Although they were filthy and gaunt from lack of food, each person brandished a weapon. The men held long wooden spears and axes, while the few women clutched large stones and daggers. Haraldur and Sig were on their knees, held at knifepoint by two male villagers.

“Where the hell did they come from?” Rothgar muttered.

She glanced around the village. To her horror, she spotted a pile of dried twigs set at the foot of a thick wooden beam. Brennan’s pyre was readied and waiting for her once again.

Brennan walked to them, grinning. “I told my loyal followers that if they ever escaped, to meet here, knowing we would eventually come for your friend.”

Brennan laughed, and the high-pitched sound sent a chill up her spine. There was no doubt about it—Brennan’s mind had cracked. He’d gone completely mad.

Rothgar said nothing. He stood still, cradling the unconscious Orvind.

Brennan continued ranting. “Do not try to save the witch, Norse-scum. There are many more of us than there are of you. I spared your friends.” He gestured at Haraldur and Sig. “Now leave … while you still can.”

The villagers released Haraldur and Sig, and they rose to their feet. Odaria watched in shock as Rothgar carried Orvind past Brennan and handed him to Sig. He spoke to Sig for a moment. Sig nodded, and then he and Haraldur carried Orvind out of the village.

Rothgar looked back at Brennan. “The deal is done. We will set sail at once. The witch is yours.” Without so much as a glance in her direction, he walked away.

The villagers descended on her like a pack of wolves. Someone kicked the backs of her knees, and she fell forward. A fist slammed into her stomach, and her left arm was wrenched behind her back.

“Rothgar, don’t leave me,” she screamed as they dragged her to the wooden beam.

Rothgar stopped. She saw his shoulders rise and fall, and then he spun around. Her heart soared as he strode back to her. He would save her after all.

Brennan stepped in front of Rothgar, blocking his path. “No tricks, pagan filth. Be on your way, lest I slit her throat before you.” Brennan faced the villagers. “Bind her well. See that she has no means of escape.”

Odaria fought against the villagers as they lashed her hands together behind her back, then tied her bound wrists to the beam. They coiled the thick rope around her upper arms and shoulders. She winced as they pulled it tight across her breasts and knotted it several times. Satisfied with their work, they began piling the brush beneath her feet.

“As you can see, I’m a man of my word,” Rothgar said, glancing at her. “So tell me, Brennan. What are your plans for Odaria?”

Brennan grinned. “I shall burn her as I intended to before she conjured you Norse invaders from the depths of the sea.”

Rothgar nodded. “A slow and painful death. You do enjoy that, don’t you? Is that why Orvind is still alive? You kept him locked away like an animal, forced to suffer in torment, rather than killing him outright.”

Odaria only half-listened to Rothgar as she squirmed against the ropes. There was no way she could get free. The ropes were too tight.

“I was saving that band of marauders to be sold as slaves. They all would have survived, if you hadn’t netted us,” Brennan growled. “Leave. Now. I have kept my end of the bargain.”