Oath Breaker (Sons of Odin Book 3) (20 page)

Chapter 33

There was a sound in Selia’s head, a horrible keening noise that seemed to rip her apart from the inside out as she sank helplessly to her knees. The awful sound exploded from her lungs, a wail of grief that echoed through the ragged edges of her mind and beckoned her toward the oblivion she knew was just beyond.

Ulfrik was dead.

She pulled at her hair, shrieking, as the ravens appeared. They carried the scent of death with them, circling. She sobbed, praying they would kill her this time. But instead of attacking her as they always did, they flew down out of sight as though after a prize on the beach below.

Ulfrik. They would pick his battered body clean. They would peck out his eyes and leave him to stare sightlessly up at the cliff from which he’d plummeted.

Selia’s last words to him had been a denial of their love. He’d died believing she had only been using him.

The screaming in her head and lungs intensified. The dark void beckoned and pulled at her, offering oblivion from the unspeakable pain.

Selia succumbed to it without a struggle.

Alrik emitted a roar of triumph as his brother tumbled over the side of the cliff. He released Selia and rushed forward just in time to see Ulfrik’s body slam into a jutting rock before plummeting to the open sea. Alrik watched the churning waves batter at the unmoving figure, then turned back to his men.

“Go find the body to ensure he’s dead. My sly brother is an excellent swimmer.”

Several men moved to comply. A small crowd of people had gathered around Selia. Faolan huddled on the ground with her, holding her tightly. Selia’s stout nursemaid, the priest, the dark-skinned woman, and the exotic child Gunnar had been so taken with all stood close, as though guarding her.

Alrik strode over to gaze down at his wife. She lay unmoving, eyes open but empty, staring into a dark void he knew only she could see. At his approach Faolan shifted, and her head lolled against his small shoulder.

The boy met his stare with hatred in his eyes. “Look what you’ve done to her!” he shouted.

Alrik pressed his lips together. “It’s only one of her spells, boy. Get up.”

Faolan only hugged her tighter, still on the ground. A flash of rage shot through Alrik’s body at his son’s insolent refusal. He grabbed them both, Selia with one hand and Faolan with the other, and ripped the boy’s grasp from her. Pushing Faolan toward his man Tyrvi Vigfusson, he rose with Selia in his arms.

“You will learn to respect me, Faolan Alrikson, one way or another. Your mother’s coddling Irish ways have turned you against me. That must be remedied.”

A throng of men came into view from the forest, carrying the weapons Ulfrik had made them leave behind, in addition to food, supplies, and livestock.

Nodding in satisfaction, Alrik turned to depart down the cliff path, motioning for Tyrvi to follow with Faolan. The sound of a wailing babe came from behind him, then a rush of footsteps.

The dark-skinned woman moved in front of him, forcing him to either stop or have to go around. Alrik stopped, narrowing his eyes at her as she held the crying tot in her arms.

“Selia’s child,” the woman panted. He was surprised she spoke Norse so well. “You cannot separate her from her mother.”

Alrik studied her. The woman was remarkably beautiful, with eyes as large and dark as a doe. Her shapeless gown couldn’t hide the outline of an alluring figure. If he hadn’t vowed to leave her alone, he would take her now and sell her for a very high price at the market in Bjorgvin.

That didn’t mean Gunnar could be trusted to keep his own vow. “I have no use for my brother’s bastard child,” he told the woman. “I suggest for your own safety you leave this island with her as soon as you can. Take my son Geirr as well.”

She gasped, her eyes growing even larger as she gawped in disbelief. She seemed about to argue, so Alrik gave her the hard, tight smile that made people recoil from him. The exotic woman was no exception.

“Gunnar will return for you, despite his promise,” Alrik threatened. “He wants you and your daughter both. I hope for your sake he doesn’t find you.”

He swept past the woman. The child’s screams echoed through the rocks as Alrik descended the cliff path with Selia in his arms.

Even if Selia was telling the truth about the babe being his, Alrik had no need for another daughter. And if he brought the babe back with them to placate its mother, the child would only be a distraction for Selia. It would keep her from him just as the boys had when they were small.

To leave the girl—as well as Geirr—with the dark-skinned woman and Selia’s nursemaid was for the best. And Alrik knew he’d frightened the woman sufficiently that they would depart the island with haste to find a safe place to hide.

Gunnar and his men were at the bottom of the path when Alrik strode onto the beach with Selia, still limp and unresponsive in his arms. He walked to where they all stood around the body of the man who’d been sent to chase after Geirr. His skull was crushed on one side, dark blood soaking into the sand beneath him.

“Your boy killed him,” Gunnar spat as Alrik approached.

Alrik laughed. “If my son killed him, you need to reconsider the warriors you’ve allowed into your war band. Geirr is a foolish boy who would rather chase butterflies than hone his battle skills.” Alrik looked up at the steep path he’d just descended. “Obviously your man fell and struck his head. There is no need to blame this on my son.”

“He fell,” a voice called out from the dragonship behind him. Bolli stood tall, arms crossed. He jerked his chin toward Gunnar. “I tried to tell him but he refused to believe me.”

Gunnar sneered, “Why should I believe your right-hand man? Wouldn’t he lie to save the boy?”

“Bolli is loyal to me, yes. But he is not a liar,” Alrik replied. “If he says your man fell, he fell.”

“Why did he let him get away, then?”

It was Bolli’s turn to laugh, motioning down to his lame foot. “I haven’t been able to give chase in years.”

“I want the boy found, regardless. He held a knife to my son’s throat.”

Alrik confronted Gunnar calmly. “And Geirr is
my
son. You will not harm him, Gunnar. Leave him be.”

Seething, Gunnar frowned at them all in turn. Before he could speak again, noises on the path above made them all look up. Ingrid and her daughter were being led down the path by several of Gunnar’s men. Ingrid’s hands had been tied behind her back, and the little girl clung to her mother’s skirts.

“Bolli Ketilson!” Ingrid screeched. Alrik cringed at the sound. He had not missed his daughter’s grating voice. “How dare you allow this!”

Bolli stared up at her with a sad expression on his face. His eyes lingered on the child before turning back to Ingrid as they gained the beach to stand with the group of men.

“You left me, Ingrid. I had no choice but to divorce you.”

“You brazen bastard! This is how you repay me for keeping your—”

Alrik quickly shifted Selia’s body to one arm and hit Ingrid, using an open hand to the face, with just enough force to bring the spiteful girl to her knees. Ingrid reeled, stunned, as her small daughter burst into fresh tears.

He knew Bolli’s secret, and suspected most of the men did as well. But it was taboo to discuss such a thing. As long as Bolli kept his predilections private, Alrik wouldn’t involve himself. To speak of it would give Alrik no choice but to punish him and remove him from his war band, making Bolli Ketilson an Oath Breaker.

Bolli was an excellent right-hand man, even better than his father had been. Alrik had no wish to lose him.

“My daughter has a vicious tongue,” Alrik said to Gunnar. “I am surprised you haven’t changed your mind since you’ve now heard it for yourself.”

“It is nothing that cannot be corrected with the proper guidance,” Gunnar replied.

Alrik ignored the slight, gritting his teeth. He remembered how good it had felt to crush Gunnar’s eye socket with the rock when they were children. He would enjoy greatly doing the same with his other eye.

His alliance with Gunnar One-Eye was tenuous at best. Now that they’d both gotten what they wanted, he’d be happy to never see his disfigured face again.

“What will you do with her?” Alrik nodded down at Ingrid’s child. His granddaughter. The little girl with Selia’s face stared up at him in fear.

Gunnar shrugged. “I will let Leif have her. The boy fancies her.”

The youth flushed under Alrik’s scrutiny. “I will not hurt her,” Leif mumbled quickly. “I will marry her when she’s of age.”

Alrik gave the boy a curt nod. “Well enough. Let’s be off, then.” He turned to the group of men, his eyes locking on the one he’d sent to the beach to ensure Ulfrik was dead. “Did you find Ulfrik’s body?”

“No, Hersir. I searched everywhere. I even looked in all the caves. The sea must have taken him.”

Anger flared in Alrik’s belly. He eyed the man intently, longing to run him through for failing him. Alrik turned to where Bolli stood in the dragonship. “Bolli! Did you see Ulfrik fall?”

“Yes.”

“Did he swim to shore?”

The expression on Bolli’s face was one of surprise. “No. I’m sure he was dead before he even reached the water. He hit that jut of rocks, there,” Bolli pointed to the cliff above, “and he didn’t move at all when he landed. The body floated for a time, then it went under.”

No body. Alrik tried to remain calm while his insides churned with rage. He’d wanted to see for himself that his deceitful brother was dead, all shattered bones and lifeless eyes. That satisfaction had been stolen from him.

He let his breath out slowly, staring down at Selia. Her beautiful face was as smooth and untroubled as a child’s, her eyes open yet far away. Her spells had never lasted this long.

She’d loved Ulfrik. Grief, not a spell, had taken her mind. The knowledge stabbed like a knife to the gut.

“Board the ships,” Alrik commanded. Fury tightened his throat. “Gunnar Klaufason, you and I are allies only as long as my daughter and granddaughter remain unharmed. I wish you well.”

Chapter 34

Faolan’s hands clenched the rail of the dragonship as the sail fluttered and caught the wind. He stood close to his mother where she lay curled on the deck, guarding her, but her eyes were so far away he doubted she even knew he was there.

He stared up at the cliff, imagining he could see Geirr’s sturdy figure standing above, growing smaller and smaller as the ship pulled Faolan away from his home.

But it was only his imagination. His brother wasn’t there. None of them were.

His mother made a faint noise, a whimper that sent a rush of impotent rage through Faolan’s body. He’d tried to protect her, tried to protect all of them. But he was too young. Too weak. Faolan had let them all down.

He had been forced to watch as the man he loved as a father was killed. Been witness to his mother’s agony, made worse when she was ripped away from her family, her home.

Faolan knelt next to his mother and took her cold hand in his. “
Mamai
,” he whispered. “I will make this right. I will kill him, and we will go home. You’ll see.”

She made no response, no indication she had even heard him. Her gray eyes had darkened, the color of a stormy sea, and they looked through Faolan instead of at him. She was completely lost.

Perhaps never to return.

Another wave of fury tore through Faolan, and his hand went automatically to the dagger he kept at his waist. But it was gone, stripped from him. His hands clenched impotently as he glowered at the man responsible, the man who had destroyed everything Faolan cared about. The man who would pay dearly for what he’d done to them today.

Alrik Ragnarson.

“
Mamai
,” a voice called through the darkness. Selia ignored it, preferring to float among the twinkling lights in the sky. The gentle brush of wind holding her aloft was warm, soothing as a caress. She could move about in it with no fear of falling.

Falling. Someone was falling . . .

No. She would stay here. This was a good place. She’d been here before many times and it was always a relief to return. She could stay forever if she wanted to. Perhaps this time she would.

“
Mamai
.” The voice was insistent. She saw a flash of a child’s face, a beautiful boy with black curls and bright blue eyes. Someone else had eyes like that. She couldn’t remember who it was.
Someone who had fallen.

Selia again pushed the unpleasant thought away, focusing instead on how the warm breeze rushed through her fingers. She wiggled them, enjoying the sensation. Then she felt a cold hand on hers.

“
Mamai
, please! I need you.”

The voice called her to a place she didn’t want to be. A place of pain. Something awful had happened there.

Soft sounds of crying entered her head. Was it the child with sad blue eyes? No, the sounds came from her own throat.

Selia fought to stay in the space that had no pain. But that agony found her, regardless. She was pulled, slammed into her body so hard she screamed with the impact.

Someone had fallen . . .

“Ulfrik!” She sat up, her body racked with sobs as the horrifying image of Ulfrik plummeting over the edge of the cliff rushed to her consciousness. He was dead. She was alive and
Ulfrik was dead.

“
Mamai
.” The relief in Faolan’s voice was palpable. “I thought you would never wake up.”

He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her hard, making Selia wince as his head pressed against her overly-full breasts. But nevertheless she held him tightly, stroking his hair. Her sluggish mind took in her surroundings, slowly, struggling to focus on something other than the unbearable loss of the man she loved. It was dark, and they seemed to be lying on a moving ship.

Where were Deirdre and Geirr? Had Alrik forced Bahati or Eithne along to care for the children?

“Deirdre will need to nurse.” Her voice sounded hollow to her own ears. “Where is she?”

Faolan looked up at her, his face a pale blur in the moonlight. His tragic expression made Selia’s breath still in her chest. She struggled to her feet, stumbling the length of the ship to where Alrik stood in conversation with Bolli and several other men. A few torches had been placed about, and the small knot of Finngalls was illuminated in their bright glow.

Although weakened, Selia launched herself at him, attacking with all the fury she could muster. “Where is Deirdre? What have you done with her?”

Alrik held her wrists and gave her a shake. “I left her with your nursemaid and the dark-skinned woman. She is safe.”

A scream of helpless rage ripped from her lungs. “You left her?
You left my baby?
Turn around, Alrik! Turn around now!”

“I will not. She and Geirr will be well taken care of.”

Geirr, too?
Selia howled again, struggling against Alrik’s grasp to no avail. Finally she spat at him, just missing his face. “I hate you, Alrik Ragnarson! You are the wickedest man who has ever lived! I will hate you until I draw my final breath.”

She felt a brief moment of satisfaction at the glimmer of pain in Alrik’s eyes. She wanted to hurt him. She wanted to
kill
him for what he’d done. But her triumph at hurting him was short lived, as the stark reality of her situation hit home. She twisted her head to hide her tears.

She would never see her children again. Deirdre must be so confused and frightened right now. Her daughter’s little voice echoed in Selia’s head, crying for her.

Sinking to her knees, she sobbed as Alrik knelt before her, still holding her wrists, and called to one of his men to bring a length of rope to tie her with.

Selia lay on the deck, hands bound, that night and the next day. Her breasts ached with engorgement, but with her hands tied she was unable to even express enough to obtain relief.

She focused on the pain instead of trying to block it out. It kept her angry. Underneath the anger was a dark hole of despair that beckoned her with every thought of Ulfrik. As much as she desired oblivion, she knew she must stay focused if there was to be any chance for escape. Once they left the coast of Ireland and headed into the open sea, all was lost.

Alrik seemed to realize this as well, for he sailed through the night, only stopping for land briefly to fill the water flasks or to build a fire to cook a quick meal of fish. They slept on the deck, with Selia bound. Whenever the ship stopped, the war band pulled it up upon the beach just far enough for a few men to get out.

Selia spent several hours the first night rubbing the rope back and forth against one of the deck rails. Now, the rough lashing still held her wrists together, but just barely. A sharp tug could snap the frayed strands. She kept her hands clasped, watchful for her chance.

As another twilight descended upon them, Alrik directed the men to pull into a rocky cove. Selia recognized the familiar landscape and realized they had traveled much farther than she’d thought. There would be no more stops after this one, at least not in Ireland.

She’d felt ill all day, weak and somewhat feverish, but the awareness that this would be her last chance for escape gave her a boost of energy. She turned to Faolan, catching his gaze, and gave him a small nod.

Faolan drew in an audible breath, his blue eyes darting toward his father nervously. Alrik was at the other end of the ship, giving instructions to the men who’d disembarked. No one was paying any attention to them.

Selia blocked Faolan’s body with her own as he climbed over the rail to slip silently into the shallow water. Then she hooked the frayed rope binding her wrists over her knee, pulling back forcefully until it snapped. She scrambled over the rail and into the cold sea.

She gasped, remembering the sensation of briny water in her mouth and lungs the day she’d nearly drowned. Her feet barely touched bottom, and she shot Faolan a panicked look. He began swimming, dragging her by the hand until she could get her feet under her. They both staggered to shore, cold and out of breath, then hurried to hide behind a boulder.

There was a shout from one of the men. Then Alrik’s angry voice. “Find them! Find them now!”

Selia cringed. She’d hoped to be deep into the woods before they noticed she and Faolan were gone. “
Run
,” she urged, and they scurried across the beach, trying to stay hidden behind the rocks.

She heard the sound of someone behind them, and knew without having to turn that it was Alrik. “Go into the forest!” she shouted to Faolan in Irish so Alrik wouldn’t understand. He nodded, veering toward the trees, but Selia continued running along the beach. She’d told Faolan if they got separated she wanted him to hide in the forest, then find a way back to Dagrun’s house in Dubhlinn.

Faolan thought the plan was for Selia to meet him there. But Selia knew if they did in fact become separated, it would most likely mean Alrik had captured her. As much as it hurt to think of being apart from all three of her children, at least she would have some small comfort in knowing she’d thwarted Alrik in his plan to give Faolan over to Odin and make him Hersir.

But Alrik didn’t follow Selia as expected. Instead he turned and dashed into the forest after Faolan. Selia cursed and pumped her legs faster, praying for Faolan to make his escape.

She slowed when she heard a ruckus in the trees, then a shout from Alrik and a howl of rage from Faolan. Agonizing frustration welled up inside her, and a defeated cry escaped her lips as she stopped running.

Alrik emerged from the trees, carrying their struggling son. Selia stood shivering in her wet gown, tears streaming unchecked down her cheeks, as she stared at the man she used to call husband. The man she’d once loved more than anything in the world. Now he gripped Faolan’s small body tightly, fulminating fury in his eyes.

She’d been a fool to think he would chase after her and allow Faolan’s escape. Alrik had obviously known she wouldn’t save herself and thus chance her son’s capture.

Faolan managed to rip his mouth free of Alrik’s hand. “Run,
Mamai
!” he screamed. “Run away!”

Selia stood motionless. The wind shifted, making the branches above them rustle and sway in the breeze like a restless ghost. The soft moan tricked her ears, sounding like the faraway call of Deirdre. Her baby.

When Selia’s knees gave out from under her she collapsed in the sand, a hopelessness such as she’d never experienced overtaking her. She couldn’t leave her son, and Alrik knew it. She had no choice but to travel to Norway with him. She would never see Deirdre and Geirr again.

Alrik had won.

Selia’s fever continued to climb as they sailed. She shivered under two blankets but could not get warm. Faolan hovered nearby, wiping her face with a cool rag and lifting her head to sip water.

Her breasts ached with an intolerable agony, stretching painfully against her gown. Her hands were untied now that they were upon the open sea, and she’d tried to express some milk, uncaring who might watch. But she was unable to obtain relief. The days dragged on, pain and fever rising to the point where she nearly wished for death, drifting in and out as the men sailed.

She opened her eyes once to see Alrik sitting by her. He didn’t touch her, just stared with an inscrutable look upon his face. Burning with rage and fever, Selia rasped, “I hope I die, so that I never have to look upon you again.”

He didn’t answer.

On the third day she woke with a clear head and took her first deep breath that didn’t make her chest scream in agony. Her eyes registered Faolan asleep beside her, curled in his cloak. Alrik leaned against the rail beside their son, elbows on his knees, watching her.

Too exhausted to expend any energy on hatred, Selia found herself numb. As she opened her mouth to tell him so, that he meant so little to her, nothing came out. Her mouth was as dry as dust.

Alrik shifted and held out a flask of water. She stared at his hand, studying the crooked little finger. Ulfrik had done that to him; broken his finger the night Alrik had tried to kill her when she was but a tot. Somehow seeing the evidence of Ulfrik’s goodness gave her some small sense of comfort. Alrik had taken his brother’s life, but he couldn’t take Selia’s memories.

She accepted the offered flask and sat up to drink deeply of it. Selia leveled her gaze upon him. “Why did you come back for me, Alrik? Why couldn’t you let me be happy?”

“You were happy with me once, little one,” he grunted. “You can be so again.”

Her laugh rang bitter. “No. Never again. You destroyed my happiness long ago. Long before you had Gunnar kill your brother.”

It took him a moment to respond. “And my brother made you happy, I suppose?”

“He did. I loved him. I still love him, even in death.” Selia noted the fury brewing on his features, and couldn’t hold back her vow. “If you force yourself on me, I will close my eyes and see
his
face, not yours.”

He expelled a shaky breath, his jaw clenching in the expression of simmering rage she knew so well. “Are you purposely trying to anger me?”

Selia leaned against the rail, considering his question.
Was
she trying to infuriate him to the point where he would hurt her? Kill her?

She would never see two of her children again. Geirr would remember her, of course, but memories faded. He would grow into a man under the care of Bahati and Eithne, with Selia ultimately no more real to him than Muirin. And little Deirdre would forget completely, the same way Selia had forgotten about her own mother.

Deep down, she knew even Faolan would be turned against her over time, enticed into the Finngall world of violence, bloodshed, and riches to be stolen. His natural berserker temperament would be honed by his father until he was ready to become Hersir. And Selia would be powerless to stop it.