“We have to strike,” another man said. The others growled their agreement and Torunn nodded. Her shoulder ached and her hands itched to hold her sword again.
“Torunn, you cannot…”
“Shut your mouth, Iri,” she snapped. “They’re right. We have to strike against Laxa. Bersi Athulfsson has to answer for his attack.”
“You do not even know why they came—or what message they were trying to send.”
“They tried to burn my father’s chair,” Torunn said incredulously. “You saw it. They were sending an obvious message. The Jarl has no place here.”
Iri blanched. “You cannot be serious.”
Torunn ignored him. “Gather the others. We’ll attack at dawn.”
The warriors nodded and stalked out of the house. They pushed past Iri who could not seem to make sense of what was happening.
“You cannot do this,” he spluttered. He reached for her arm but Torunn slapped his hand away. She pulled her knife from its sheath and pressed it against Iri’s chest.
“You will never undermine me in front of my men again. Agreed?”
Iri backed away and she saw anger spark in his pale eyes, but she did not care how he felt. He had tried to take control again, and she had had enough.
“You are making a mistake.”
“Am I?” she challenged. “What would my father do if he returned home to Skaro tomorrow and discovered that I had allowed rebels from Laxa to infiltrate the village, murder our men, and set torches to his throne… How would my father react to such disrespect?”
Iri’s face told her that he knew exactly how the Jarl would take his revenge.
“Those men should have gone raiding with my father. But they’re here in Skaro, guarding me… and you. If I do not agree to take vengeance on Laxa, they’ll do it behind my back. Where is the honor in that?”
Iri looked down at the ground and shook his head. He knew that she was right, and there was no argument that he could make that would change her mind.
As much as she wanted to sleep, there was no time for it. Her blood was already rushing for battle, and the warriors who had been left behind to protect the village were clamoring for blood. Revenge was easy. And satisfying.
“Laxa will not have many warriors,” she said to the gathered men. “But you must be watchful. Farmers can protect their homes just as well as you, and they don’t need a sword or an axe to do it.”
The men nodded grimly as she scanned their faces. They were angry. Being taken by surprise in the dead of night was never something a warrior planned for. Bersi Athulfsson’s attack had wounded their pride, and they were focused on righting that wrong.
Torunn wasn’t certain how much satisfaction there would be in this victory. The battle would not be long, or challenging, but it would be justified, and that had to be enough. Her father would have done the same for less.
“We will take women and children,” she said firmly. “And the rebel—this Bersi Athulfsson—you’ll take him alive.”
“Alive?” one of the men snorted. “What good is he alive?”
“A present for the Jarl,” Torunn snarled. “You’ll do as commanded in his absence.”
The man who had spoken raised an eyebrow at her tone, but did not argue with her. No matter how she might have felt about being left in charge, she still had some measure of authority in Skaro, and the men owed her their loyalty whether they liked it or not.
“And what of the council?” Iri’s voice rose above the muttering of the warriors and Torunn fixed him with a glare.
“What of them?”
“Do we know if they were involved in this attack?”
Torunn paused and anger flared in her chest. How dare he question her in front of these men…
The conversation around her ceased and Torunn swallowed her anger. “Careful, Iri,” she said softly.
“I am simply curious.” The Jarl’s advisor came through the crowd of men and stood before her with his hands on his hips.
Torunn wondered briefly if she could trust her old friend—perhaps he had changed in the years he had served with her father’s council. Whatever it was, she didn’t like it.
“Save your curiosity,” she snapped and then turned to the assembled men. They were heavily armed and the sky was just beginning to lighten. They would have to move quickly. “We will question Laxa’s council… let them admit their guilt, or plead their innocence. Skaro will decide how to punish their rebellion.”
The warriors cheered, and Torunn allowed herself to smile. Iri frowned but did not say anything more. A smart move for once.
“To Laxa.”
3
Laxa had always been full of problems. They were loyal to Jarl Reinnsson, but their council was filled with the most irritating old men that Torunn had ever had the displeasure of listening to.
Every new moon, the elders of Laxa brought a new complaint to her father’s feet. She didn’t know how he had the patience for it. If Torunn had been in charge, she would have suggested the village be absorbed into Skaro’s borders. That would silence their complaints for good.
Perhaps now her father would listen to her.
They moved quickly and quietly through the woods, staying just far enough away from the edge of trees to stay hidden. Torunn kept her eyes ahead, but she caught sight of Halle between the trees. He shouldn’t have been here. He wasn’t a warrior. But even if she’d told him to stay behind he wouldn’t have listened.
Stubborn as a bull.
With the approach of winter, the sun was rising later and later in the morning, but the farmers of Laxa had only just begun to stir when Torunn and her men broke through the treeline.
Their shouts pierced the still air and cries of alarm were raised through the village as they stormed through the frozen mud. Anguished cries echoed through the village as warriors cut down anyone who stood in their way. Torunn gritted her teeth and tightened her grip on her sword as they advanced. Laxa’s actions demanded justice. And even if the village council had only harbored the rebel they would still be punished.
With one of the warriors beside her, Torunn kicked in the door of the councilor’s hut. The door swung wide and she strode inside with a singular purpose.
The old man was huddled against the side of the hut. He clutched a fur to his sunken chest and a wooden chest lay on the packed dirt floor beside him. “Going somewhere?” she asked dryly.
“What is the meaning of this?” the old man cried. His voice shook with a mixture of fear and anger, and Torunn smiled coldly.
“This is justice,” she said. “Your men attacked Skaro, we are here to see that the Jarl is satisfied with your reasoning.”
“Jarl Reinnsson is not in Skaro,” the man spat.
“No. He is not. But I am here in his stead,” Torunn said. She nodded to the warrior beside her and he strode across the hut and hauled the old man to his feet. “You will answer for Laxa’s crimes.”
“Laxa has done nothing!” the old man protested loudly. The warrior yanked him forward and the man stumbled and fell to his knees in front of Torunn.
“Then deliver the rebels to us, and no harm will come to it,” she said softly. She looked up at the warrior. “Bring him out into the marketplace. Find the others.”