“Absolon? Why are you doing this?”
Absolon did not answer, but the muscle in his jaw spasmed and his nostrils flared with the air forced through them. He stood on the other side of the fire, his fingers curling into claws and the light illuminating his face’s fury. Absolon had come for his revenge.
Ragnar stepped back but he would not run. He had had his reasons for leaving Absolon behind. Good reasons. He had provided food and water. He had left him alive. Surely, he could not hold a grudge. It had been better that way.
But quick as lightning Absolon appeared by his side. Ragnar’s heart launched into his throat, which Absolon gripped with a strength he’d never known he had.
I’m going to die, and no one will care.
Absolon’s grip tightened. Ragnar dropped his sword and clawed at Absolon’s vice-like hold but to no avail. Absolon’s sapphire eyes blazed with hate, the only thing illuminating the unconsciousness amassing at the edges of Ragnar’s vision. Absolon was going to break his neck. He wanted to say something but couldn’t get his words out. Pressure increased until, with a roar, Absolon threw Ragnar to the ground.
He coughed and spluttered, gathering onto all fours and trying to speak. He looked up at Absolon to beg for—
Absolon smashed a rock into his head.
Chapter 2
When Ragnar regained consciousness, he found manacles clamped around his wrists and the forest transformed to a stone-walled room. Early morning light eked in through the solitary barred window over the stout wooden door opposite. He sat up quickly, pain shooting from his head to pummel his stomach and he rolled over and vomited up what little he had in his belly. His strength failed him, and he sank down next to his rancid waste.
The chains clinked as he gingerly fumbled around the back of his head and hissed as his fingers came into contact with the dried bloody mess matting his hair. Absolon had got him good. But he hadn’t killed him.
That was something.
That was something he could work with.
He breathed again, quelling the nausea, and raised himself into a seated position with his back against the wall, slowly this time. He shuffled back and winced but forced the pain to submit to his will. It was just a bump on the head. He couldn’t let it stop him. He had to get out.
The door looked solid enough with no rotten planks to pry loose, but perhaps the lock could be forced with enough strength. The window was too small for him to slip through even if he could remove the bars. And the dirt ground was too compact to tunnel his way out. He tilted his head back and looked at the ring embedded in the wall above him and the chains connected to it. One metal eye to hold both chains. It appeared to be driven hard into the stone. With enough strength and perhaps something to chisel around it, he could potentially wrench it loose before Absolon came.
Absolon had to come. He wouldn’t have brought him there alive if he didn’t have further designs. Why did he hunt him down? What torture would Absolon visit upon him? What revenge would he seek? As if the slaughter of thirty men and the decimation of his dreams weren’t enough. But no matter what power Absolon had, Ragnar would not capitulate. He would get free or die trying. Whatever small regard he’d had for Absolon in the past, it was all for naught. Absolon would not triumph.
As if his thoughts had been a bell summoning a servant, a key turned in the door’s lock with a scrape in the rusted mechanism. Ragnar stood slowly, using the wall to catch himself against, until he was upright. He left his arms hanging loose at his side, ready to strike or block. He relaxed his jaw. Absolon would not find him afraid.
The door opened inwards—unfortunate but not insurmountable—but before Absolon entered a small russet-haired hound rushed through the gap. The dog was the kind farmers used to hunt rabbits and foxes, and it darted towards him. Ragnar readied his legs to kick the animal, but with tail wagging, it stopped at the contents of his stomach and greedily licked it up. Ragnar recoiled, but the dog seemed happy enough, its compact and robust little body bursting with excitement as it wolfed down its meal. Within moments the floor was wet only with the dog’s saliva and its soiled muzzle was sniffing at Ragnar’s boot.
“Trogen, heel!"
At the commanding tone in Absolon’s voice the dog bounded over to the shadow blocking the door and Ragnar’s gaze followed.
Absolon stepped inside. Ragnar’s body tensed of its own accord. Would the berserker fit come upon Absolon again? He’d had to rescue the young soldier more than once from his madness, but that was when there were Danes to fight or the King’s soldiers.
That was when the enemy hadn’t been him.
But as Absolon’s face came into view, there was none of the previous night’s rage. Yet his features looked as if they had been chiseled from stone, hacked of its former and familiar joviality and kindness.
Had he imagined Absolon’s power? His hands looked as they ever did, as strong as ever but human nonetheless.
Absolon carried a pewter plate with a hunk of bread in one hand and a bucket of water with the other. The keys protruded from the lock, and Ragnar watched every second of Absolon’s approach for an opportunity to escape. Without turning his back, Absolon put the bread and water on the floor at the edge of the chain’s reach. He could not grab Absolon, even if he wanted to.
There was also the dog to worry about. Its sweet temperament may vanish at any sudden movement. Its teeth looked sharp.
Absolon looked at Ragnar but said nothing and returned to the door. He was going already? Without a word?
“What is this, Absolon? Why have you brought me here?”
Absolon ignored him and pulled on the handle. The dog scampered out. The light grew dim.
“You coward! The least you could do is give me a reason.”
Absolon stiffened, stopped, but stayed at the doorway. “You should know the reason, Ragnar.”
For all that he had him at his mercy, no joy shone on Absolon’s face at having him thus. His voice weighed heavy with sad resignation. Remorse from his captor? From the killer of his men? There was only one reason why Absolon would have done this, and it was the same one that had haunted him—along with the betrayal in Absolon’s eyes—the past seven months.
“I left you alive, didn’t I?”
“And haven’t I don’t the same for you?”
“Yes, but for how long? You slaughtered my men and kidnapped me. Why not kill me with the rest of them?”
“It’s not your time yet.”
“Oh, you’ll torture me awhile then execute me like one of the King’s jailers? What do you want? Money? I have a lot and you can have it. I have been busy since—” Best not to mention it. “It’s hidden in…the forest.” Best not to say exactly where. “You can have it all. As payment for my life.”
Absolon sighed. “I don’t want your money.”
The dog tilted its head up at its master’s labored breath, and Absolon scratched its ears, gently, lovingly. He had always been capable of such tenderness.
Ragnar couldn’t let himself get distracted by memories. “Then what?”
“You’ll find out soon enough. You have thirty days.”
Thirty days? Why so many? Why not now? I could fight now. After thirty days in here…