Without another word, he takes a step out of our tent and calls out for the seeress. I do nothing except stand in the middle of the tent, trembling with blue paint still wet on my fingertips.
AARIC
My men gather around, they look just like me, their hair braided, their bodies painted and ready for war. Clearing my throat, I take a step toward the seeress. She smiles sadly as she tugs the animal toward me.
The horse neighs and I dip my chin toward the animal. His sacrifice will not be in vain, I will not allow it. I honor the gods and this beast with the sacrifice and outcome of war. We will persevere and we will succeed. Even if that success means the demise of my brother.
Their ceremony does not last long. The horse does not stay in pain, his death is swift and my heart bleeds that this fierce animal must be sacrificed, but this is the way and the gods will smile down at the sacrifice and guide me to safety on this steed if must be.
When the ceremony is complete, I turn to see Liv standing in the crowd. She has tears shimmering in her eyes, but I know that it is not necessarily for the impending war, but likely for the animal that now resides with the gods.
My Liv.
Soft and pure of heart.
She does not wish to see man or animal in pain. One of the reasons that she will not take slaves, she thinks that they should be able to live a life of their own free will, even if they are spoils of war.
Clearing my throat, I shout to my men that the time is here. I tell them that Fiske is not himself, he is possessed by this demon, that Runa has informed me there is no way to save his human body, while at the same time ridding him of the beast inside.
It must be me who ends him, along with Runa, for guidance. They are not to engage in battle with him, only capture him. Then, I warn them of the other völva who reside somewhere in this land.
“Stay sharp. Keep your wits about you, keep your mind clear, stay together. This can only be successful if we all worth together. You are the bravest men in all of Wolfjour Ail. You will prevail, we will prevail. Dhuis will reward us greatly when we capture the draugr. We must think of our Allfather and our families at home. We do this for Dhuis, for our families, for our future, for our kingdom,” I shout.
The men echo my shout, lifting their swords and shields toward Valhalla. The air around us crackles, and I know that they are ready for war. Ready to defend their konungr, their dróttning, and their homeland.
We gather our items, splitting off into four groups, ready to take over and conquer whatever comes our way. We won’t be far from one another, each group within hearing distance from another.
Marching toward Liv, I wrap my hand around the side of her neck. “Gunnar and Hagen will protect you. They will guard you with their lives. If something happens, you will listen to them, do you understand me?” I demand.
Liv lifts her arm, wrapping her fingers around my wrist as her green eyes fill with wet tears. Thankfully, she does not allow them to fall down her cheeks in front of me. Clearing my throat, my eyes search her own for understanding.
“I will be right here when you return, Aaric,” she says with a smile.
“You will listen to Gunnar, Hagen, and Quest.”
Liv shakes her head. “I will be right here,” she says, her voice a bit firmer.
Clearing my throat, I let out a shaky breath, wondering how my fated wife ended up being such a stubborn one. I wonder offhandedly if all of the sisters are this way, if they are, I feel for the other warriors who will wed them, for this is no easy feat.
“You will be here, but you will also do as I wish if need be, víf. You understand me?”
She lifts her eyes to the sky, then settles her gaze back on me. “You know that I will, Aaric. I will not put myself or our child in harm’s way. But we will be here, because you will defeat the demon inside of Fiske.”
“I will,” I agree with a jerky nod.
Liv rises to her toes, her mouth touching mine in a gentle brush of a kiss. “When you return, you’ll take me with all of that blue paint on your body. I want you to paint me with it, Aaric,” she breathes against my lips.
I grunt. “I look forward to it, sváss,” I rasp.
Touching my mouth to hers one last time, I take a step back before I turn and face my men. I can hear Gunnar’s deep voice behind me.
Shifting my gaze to the right, there is Kjeld next to me and Sten on the other side. They will be at my side in battle while Gunnar and Hagen keep my wife and heir safe.
“Let us do this so that we can go on our raid and find some women,” Kjeld grunts.
“You don’t want to find one here?” Sten asks, trying not to burst out laughing.
Kjeld barks out his own laugh. “I don’t care for the kind of völva that live in these woods,” he mutters. “No offense, Runa.”
She laughs softly, one step behind me for protection. “I would not want anyone who lived here either. There is a heaviness around here that can only come from the underworld. It isn’t a place I would look for a lover or a one-time roll in the hayloft.”
Unable to hold back, the four of us burst out into laughter. It lightens the moment and I am grateful for it. Soon there will be no laughter, no jokes, no smiling. Soon, I will have to torture the body of my brother in a way that I know I will never be the same man as I am right now.
Chapter Thirty-Two
LIV
“All will be well,” Hillevi murmurs.
Stopping in my pacing, I look up at her. “Will it? You can see it?” I demand.
She shakes her head. I already know that she cannot see it, she’s told me more than once. I’m being a bitch, but I can’t help it, I’m scared as shit. Lifting my hand to my mouth, I start to nervously chew on my bottom lip as I pace some more.
“Aaric will not fail, Liv. He cannot and he will not,” she states.
Nodding, I look over at her. “I know.”
“Do you?” she asks.
“The fates, the gods, there is no way they would bring me here only to rip us apart permanently.”
Hillevi watches me silently for a moment, and I can tell that she wants to say something, but decides not to speak. Instead, she looks over her shoulder at the gigantic dragon who is all curled up in a ball and looks like he can’t be bothered in the least.
“Quest said he’s fine,” she murmurs. “They have not found Fiske, but they are on a trail hoping it leads to him.”
“You can talk to him like Aaric? Telepathically?” I ask.
She nods, then lets out a sigh. “I can. We have a history together.”
Deciding that Hillevi and her relationship with Quest is a lot more fascinating than pacing and stressing out, I turn to her and grin. She shakes her head, taking a step back, but she can’t go far. Gunnar and Hagen have us corralled in the tent.
“Spill it,” I demand.
She rolls her eyes to the ceiling of the tent, then walks over to the small table where there is a pitcher of ale. I watch as she pours herself a glass, lifting it to her lips and takes a big swig of the liquid.
“I loved him. Still do. He has figured out how to get me back and he has succeeded. After this is done with, I am to go with him, to have his child.”
“How?” I ask, trying to imagine the gigantic dragon fucking the poor tiny seeress.