The Viking's Witch (13 page)

Odaria came downstairs and glanced around the main room of the gathering hall. It was empty. Was Rothgar still out? What was taking him so long?

After they had returned from the ship, Rothgar had insisted that she go upstairs and rest for a while. He told her that he had important matters to attend to and instructed her to stay inside until he came back. She supposed that he had gone off looking for Orvind again.

She tossed a log onto the fire and went into the cookroom for the straw broom. As soon as she’d tidied up, she’d start cooking Rothgar a hearty midday meal. She wanted him to be content and well fed for later today. After he had eaten his fill, she would hold him to his promise of taking her to her cottage. From there, they would continue what they had started on the ship and …

The sound of a man clearing his throat made her spin around. She clutched the broom in her left hand and let out a little gasp. A huge Norseman stood less than two feet away. Who was he? Why had he snuck up behind her?

She looked him up and down. Compared to Rothgar, he looked unkempt and filthy. His long, blond hair was shaggy and wild, and a matted beard hung partway down his chest. He wore a knee-length, furry brown shirt with no trousers. Had Rothgar left this man to watch over her? For some reason, she didn’t think so.

“What do you want here?”

The man walked closer to her, and his pungent body odor made her eyes water. Hadn’t he ever bathed?

She fanned the air under her nose. “I said, what do you want?”

As the man reached out for her, she instinctively moved back. None of the other Norsemen dared to touch her. They knew better. She waved the broom between them. “Go away.”

He reached for her again, and she swung the broom, striking him in the shoulder. “Leave me alone.” She was shocked to hear a tremble in her voice. Where was Rothgar when she needed his protection?

In the hope of scaring him off, she hit the man again, harder this time. With a growl, he yanked the broom from her hands and snapped it in two like a twig. Before she had time to run, he grabbed her arm and pulled her up against him. He muttered something in Norse, then grinned. His breath stank like rot, and she noticed that three of his bottom teeth were missing.

“I’m Rothgar’s.” She pointed at the brooch pinned to her tunic. Would he recognize it? Perhaps the threat of Rothgar’s wrath would make him leave her alone. “If I tell Rothgar you—”

He put a filthy finger to her lips to silence her. She closed her eyes and listened to her heart hammering in her chest. What was he going to do to her?

The man dragged her across the cookroom and to the side door. A wave of panic seized her, and she started kicking and screaming. Why didn’t anyone come to rescue her? Where was everyone, out searching for Orvind? Or were they ignoring her cries for help?

***

“Rothgar, we’ve been searching for two hours,” Svein said. “How much longer must we waste our time?”

Rothgar studied the group of Norsemen. Svein stood near the bottom of the hill. The six other men he had brought with him to search for Orvind had also stopped walking and were looking at Svein. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Karnik was right. The men had grown weary of futile searches. Even finding Orvind’s shield hadn’t convinced them to continue the quest.

“If you were missing and wounded, would you not wish to be found?”

“
Ja
,” Svein replied, “but we’ve searched this area three times. He’s not invisible. If Orvind were here, we would see him. If he was alive to hear us calling, he’d answer. Perhaps you should accept the fact that he’s not among the land of the living and—”

“He’s alive, dammit. I can feel it in my blood.”

“Then let us search elsewhere,” Haraldur spoke up. “But we waste our time combing the same area again and again.”

“I say we return to the village and eat,” Sig said. “We can form a new plan and look again later.”

Rothgar rolled his eyes skyward. The next three days would be the longest of his life. Why must everything be so difficult? Were the gods punishing him again or merely testing his resolve? He knew his favorite cousin was alive and being held prisoner somewhere on this damned isle, but the trick was to find him fast. He had to rescue Orvind soon or give up the search and be labeled a failure for the rest of his life. But was he truly up to the challenge?

Deep down, he feared that Karnik might be right about him. He
had
softened over the years. The day that Gretta and Rurik died, a part of him died, too. He clutched his
Mjollnir
pendant and prayed for guidance.

He glanced at Svein. “Fine. We will return to the village—for now. But I expect to search again in an hour’s time.” He brushed past Svein and headed back to the village. He wasn’t hungry, but he could use a drink to renew his strength. And what of his promise to take Odaria to her cottage? As much as he ached to be alone with her again, it seemed their lovemaking would have to wait a little longer.

Odaria screamed for help as the Norseman carried her away from the gathering hall. Where was he taking her? They were headed for a small clearing on the far edge of the village. What did he want with her?

She smelled smoke and spotted several green tents set up around a campfire. A few Norsemen sat near the fire, roasting a chunk of meat on a stick. As soon as her abductor plopped her down on her feet, the men stood and surrounded her.

“Do you not know who I am? When Rothgar learns you have—” She yelped as the man in the brown hair shirt shoved her toward a red tent.

He pointed to the opening and pushed her again. He wanted her to go inside? Was he going to ravage her? She didn’t think so. If he had wanted to hurt her, he wouldn’t have troubled himself to bring her here—she hoped.

No matter what he said or did, she wasn’t going to show him how afraid she felt. If he sensed the slightest trace of fear, she would lose all hope of having any advantage over him. She folded her arms across her chest.

“Nay, I’ll not do as you say. Bring me to Rothgar. Now.” She hoped that by invoking Rothgar’s name, it would make the man realize who she belonged to.

He shook his head and parted the opening to the tent. “Nordskog.”

She frowned. Nordskog? The five other Norsemen closed in around her. She bit her bottom lip and glanced at them. They were nearly as tall as Rothgar but looked unruly and wild. Her eyes watered from the smell of them.

The man pointed to the tent again. “Nordskog.”

She looked at the other men and noted their serious expressions. It would be useless to try to argue with them since they didn’t understand her, and it might enrage them if she fought back.

“Fine, Nordskog,” she growled and entered the shadowy tent.

“Ugh, what’s died in here?” She pinched her nose. The air was thick with the smell of rot and stale urine. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw that the tent was filled with blankets and weapons. The man followed her into the tent and held the flap open, allowing more light inside. After a few seconds, she spotted a figure lying on a blanket at the back of the tent.

Cautiously, she approached him. Who was this? Why was he being kept in the dark?

Her Norse abductor shoved her to the ground. She landed on her knees in front of the other man. He sat up and grabbed her. She screamed and tried to get away, but he was strong and held her fast.

Rothgar entered the gathering hall and called out for Odaria again. Where was she? He had expected to find her waiting for him downstairs, perhaps cooking him a midday meal. Yet the table was bare, and there was nothing simmering over the fire.

A banging sound caught his attention, and he entered the cookroom. The side door was swinging in the breeze. Had Odaria gone out and not latched the door? As he walked across the room, he kicked something with his boot. His breath caught in his throat as he spotted the broken broom. Odaria must have been cleaning and then—

By the gods. She’d been taken.

He raced out the side door and ran down the path leading to the center of the village. “Odaria!”

Who would have dared to take her? To abduct Odaria would be sheer madness. Everyone in the village knew she belonged to him. Word had gotten out about what she’d done to Brennan and how she had read the objects recovered from the sea. Most of Karnik’s men were afraid of her and knew better than to bother her. No sensible Nordmann would dare to challenge him, except—

“Dear Odin, not them,” he muttered, and took off running through the village. He ignored the puzzled looks and strange glances he got from the other Nordmenn as he knocked down tents and kicked over buckets of water in his haste. Time was of the essence. How long had Odaria been missing? Was there still time to save her? Why in the name of the gods would the
berserkrs
take her?

Within a minute, he reached the small camp set far away from the main settlement. Karnik’s men did not dare venture near the inhabitants of these tents. Even the bravest of the brave balked at facing a
berserkr
.

He sprinted to the red tent in front of him.
Berserkrs
or not, if they had harmed Odaria, the ground would be puddled with their blood.

A group of men were standing in a circle, talking and pointing at something on the ground. Fearing he knew what they were looking at, he drew his sword. “Get the hell away from her.”

He leapt at the group, wielding his broadsword high. Before the men had time to react, he plowed two of them down and knocked a third to the side. He broke through the crowd and saw Odaria kneeling on the ground.

She looked up at him, then leapt to her feet. “Rothgar, stop.” She stayed his right hand before he brought his sword down on a man wearing a dirty yellow tunic.

“What in the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m fine. I’m not hurt.” Odaria glanced over her shoulder at the other men standing nearby. “They havena touched me.”

The men closed in on him, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. He glared at the nearest man, prepared to open his guts if necessary. He was not about to allow the
berserkrs
to take Odaria from him. “I told you to stay inside.”

“I did. This one”—she gestured at a blond man wearing a hair shirt—“brought me here. I told him I was yours, but he didna understand.”

“He knew, but he didn’t care.” He clutched Odaria to his chest. By the grace of the gods, she was unharmed. He whispered a prayer of thanks, then looked at the man for a moment. Gunnar was his name, and he was known for his bloodthirsty rages. Only one man could order Gunnar to take Odaria from the gathering hall.

“Nordskog,” he muttered.

Odaria scowled at him. “What does that mean? They have been sayin’ it over and over.”

“It’s a man’s name. He’s a big brute and—”

“Has an injured leg. I’ve been tending to him.”

“
Hvat
? You have been doing what?” It couldn’t be true. Nordskog the Notorious was the most depraved and brutal
berserkr
in the land. Odaria was treating his leg?

“They kept saying Nordskog, but I didna know what it meant. That one there,” she said, pointing at Gunnar, “brought me here to fix him. He was lying in a filthy tent. I made them carry him out here where I could see better in the light.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. He knew all too well what Gunnar
could
have done to Odaria if he’d wished, but Gunnar had obeyed Nordskog’s orders and hadn’t harmed her. He sheathed his sword and approached Gunnar. Two men stood in front of Gunnar, blocking his path.

“Let me see Nordskog.”

“Allow him to pass,” commanded a deep voice.

The men moved aside, and he stepped past Gunnar. Nordskog lay a few feet away on a striped blanket. He knelt and saw that Nordskog was pale and covered with a layer of sweat. His weakened appearance shocked him. Nordskog was gruff and burly, like a bear, but now he looked like a helpless boy. It was obvious that he was unwell. “What is wrong?”

“Leg rot,” Nordskog answered. “The witch will heal me.” He grinned, showing gaps where two of his teeth used to be. “She is unharmed.”