The Heart's Warrior (29 page)

195

Leigh Bale

him and swallowed the ale in greedy gulps. He wiped his dripping beard before he answered. “Alrik was victorious, as was King Hakon. Alrik’s sons, Einar and Thorir, have joined the fight and their armies gave us the advantage.

But Sigurd—he was wounded. It’s bad, Jonas. He keeps asking for you. I’ve come to bring you to him.”

Jonas’s heart pounded. His blood ran cold. Grief

clogged his mind. His father. Wounded, possibly dying.

Please Odin, don’t let him die!

Halfdan swallowed and cast a nervous glance at Tovi, who turned pale and quiet. “Jonas, Sigurd asks that you bring the Witch of Moere. He believes if the gods are willing, she can heal him when none other can.”

Halfdan turned to Tovi. “Sigurd knows you can’t

make the journey since your guidance is needed here, but he sends his heart to you and bids you a safe and happy life until you both meet again.”

Tears beaded in Tovi’s eyes and she pressed a fist against her mouth as she bit back a sob. Jonas’s heart broke in two. Sigurd would only send such a message if he were bidding farewell to his wife. He wouldn’t be coming home, unless—

Kerstin.

“We will depart at once,” Jonas called as he waved to his men.

Several people heard Halfdan’s words. They clustered together, whispering amongst themselves. From their wide eyes and crinkled noses, they seemed stunned by Sigurd’s request to have Kerstin tend him.

“She’s almost made Ota well,” one murmured.

“And Gudrid is feeling better, too. It looks like she won’t lose her babe after all.”

“But have you forgotten the witch murdered Bjorn?”

Astrid exclaimed. “How can you forget the years of bloodshed between our people?”

“My wife is no witch. She’s not to be harmed or you’ll deal with me, do you understand?” Jonas stepped toward her, his voice chilling.

Astrid blinked at his fury and ducked her head in submission. “Aye, my lord.”

As word spread of other warriors they had lost in battle, the mournful wails of women and children filled 196

The Heart’s Warrior

197

the air. Husbands, fathers and sons would not be coming home. The price of freedom was paid with blood, but it didn’t make it easier to lose a loved one.

Jonas walked to his mother and cupped her cheek

with his palm. No words were spoken between them as he stared into her damp eyes. How he wished he could ease her pain.

Gulls screamed overhead and still they didn’t move, locked in grief, knowing one another’s hearts.

Tovi closed her eyes and tears washed her cheeks as she spoke at last. “Bring him home to me.”

Jonas nodded. Whether Sigurd lived or died, he

would return him to his wife. “I will.”

Turning, he ran up the hill, eager to reach the hall so he could gather up his wife and take her to Sigurd. Blood pumped through his veins, his heart pounding with urgency.

If they hurried, Kerstin might be able to save his father’s life.

197

Leigh Bale

When Jonas awakened Kerstin and explained about Sigurd, she didn’t hesitate to say she would go to the battlefront. Knowing Ota was out of danger, she

explained to Tovi how to care for Gudrid and the child.

“Gudrid is
not
to work and must remain abed if her babe is to survive. Please don’t let her get up.”

“It will be as you say.” Tovi’s agreement, and her helping to pack herbs and bandages for the journey, eased Kerstin’s tension.

Loaded with healing supplies, Kerstin turned to

leave but Tovi laid a hand on her arm, holding her back.

Kerstin looked at her mother-in-law, surprised to see tears sparkling in the woman’s eyes. “Sigurd is my husband. Help him if you can.
Please
.”

Hope burgeoned in Kerstin’s heart. If Tovi could trust her, perhaps Jonas might also come to believe in her.

“I’ll do all I can for Sigurd,” Kerstin said. “I give you my word.”

Tovi showed a wan smile and nodded her head, then moved aside to let Kerstin pass.

Astrid glowered with hate. Kerstin ignored the

woman as she hurried for the ship.

A ship.
How she hated the rivers and seas. The minute she stepped on board, she would be sick as a child who had eaten a basket of crab apples. Her stomach would cramp, her head spin. There was no help for it now.

They must make haste.

Down at the dock, Jonas helped her climb on board.

The men gathered in the mooring lines, raised the sails, and they departed. As the vessel rocked to and fro amongst the waves, Kerstin’s stomach heaved and

frolicked within. Oh, she wanted to die.

Three of Jonas’s ships accompanied them to the

battlefront, led by Halfdan who guided the way. One ship remained at home, along with a crew of men to guard 198

The Heart’s Warrior

199

Hawkscliffe.

As she hung her head over the railing, Jonas rubbed Kerstin’s back in soothing circles. Later, he wrapped her in warm furs and offered her shallow sips of water.

Though they had gotten a late start and night

approached, the journey would take only one day, if they didn’t encounter bad weather or enemies.

“Prepare to land. My wife must rest,” Jonas told his men as the sun sank below the horizon.

Shaking her head, Kerstin tried to swallow. “There isn’t time. We must go on.”

Jonas peered at the blackened sky. “Your face is pale.

I’ll not jeopardize your life.”

Kerstin gave a shaky laugh. “I’m stronger than you think, Jonas. A ride on your ship won’t be the end of me, I promise. Your father needs me.”

****

on, sailing through the night and a lashing storm. By the time they reached Scarborough, the sun peeked through the clouds sitting low over the eastern hills. Looking at Kerstin’s pale face, Jonas wondered if she was too ill to tend Sigurd. Standing at the tiller, he studied the forest along the shore. The enemy could be hidden within the trees, ready to ambush them.

“Ready yourselves.”

The men pulled on their helmets and docked the ship against the beach. They cast wary glances at the shore, brandishing their swords.

Jonas knelt down beside Kerstin. “Are you all right?”

She threw him a glare that could have melted his

woolen socks. “Get me off this damned ship and then I’ll be fine.”

He hid a smile, grateful to see some fire in her. She would be all right. He picked her up and carried her ashore. Followed by his warriors, Jonas moved quietly in the early dawn. They traveled in silence so as not to alert the enemy if they were near.

The majority of Jonas’s men remained behind to

guard their war ships until he could return with Sigurd.

Halfdan led them through the fields, now burned and laid waste by the Eirikssons. It would be a hungry winter 199

Leigh Bale

for the inhabitants of this valley, unless they could plant new crops. Dead bodies and spears lay about, flocked by black crows picking at the corpses. Jonas gave Kerstin a cloth to cover her nose from the great stench before he did the same.

Kerstin gazed at the fields and slaughter. With a low moan, she pressed her face against his chest and he held her closer. He hated bringing her to this place of death and he felt suddenly protective of her. His throat closed.

No longer could he fight her magic hold over him.

As they left the battlefield, Jonas breathed easier.

The air smelled of loamy soil and ash. Rain began to fall, a soft spring storm to bring new life to the earth. He hunched over Kerstin to protect her face.

“You’ll feel better now we’re on solid land,” he

whispered. “We’ll rest soon and you will eat.”

He focused on the chore at hand. Find Sigurd, nurse his wounds, and get him and Kerstin back home. That was all that mattered right now.

Leaving the fields, they came to the edge of a sparse forest. He had carried Kerstin for some time and she must have felt his arms trembling around her.

“I feel better. Let me walk, now.” She pressed her feet to the ground, forcing him to let her go.

Jonas breathed deeply, realizing he was not fully recovered from his wound. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he helped support her as they trudged on.

The sky darkened, with little light to show the way along the narrow path winding through the forest.

Blackened clouds shimmered over the dripping trees as they walked single-file in the rain. Halfdan led the way, followed by most of Jonas’s men. He walked near the back with Kerstin, the safest spot from an attack.

Now and then, Jonas caught sight of the shadowed

mountains through the trees. No longer could he hear the ocean. There were no sounds but the soft tread of feet as they moved through the night.

When they arrived at Sigurd’s camp, Jonas saw tents where men huddled together to keep warm. They had lit few fires. Smoke would draw the attention of the

Eirikssons. The men looked up, their eyes and faces drooping in sullen misery. To have their leader cut down 200

The Heart’s Warrior

201

stole their morale.

As they crowded before their paltry campfires, their eyes appeared hollow, faces ashen. Many wore bloodied cloths about their heads, arms and legs. Their shields were dented, the chain mail torn. The battle must have been fierce. No one spoke. No sounds except the crackling of a fire and a muted cough.

A gush of achy remorse washed over Jonas. He

should have been here to fight with them. Now, his father might die.

When they saw Jonas, they smiled and a few waved

at him. He hoped his presence raised their spirits a little.

Halfdan took Jonas and Kerstin to a poor farmer’s hut. It appeared drafty and cold, offering questionable protection from the elements as the wind blew through wide cracks in the walls.

“Thank Odin you’ve arrived in time.” Ivar, Sigurd’s second-in-command, came out of the hut and welcomed Jonas by clasping his arm. “It’s been four days since they cut Sigurd down. Each day, he grows weaker. I don’t know how he’s survived this long, except he wants to see you before he goes to Valhalla.”

The words bludgeoned Jonas’s heart. His father was still alive, but who knew for how long? They may have arrived too late to help him.

“We’ve sustained heavy losses.” Ivar led Jonas and Kerstin inside the hut. “It’s as if the Eirikssons know exactly what we plan. I suspect a traitor is giving away our position.”

Jonas stiffened with outrage. A traitor! By Odin’s beard, he’d kill the dirty scoundrel when he discovered who it was.

Ducking into the hut, Jonas blinked in the darkness.

A meager fire surrounded by stones burned in the middle of the room but offered little warmth or light. The floor beneath his feet was nothing more than damp earth.

Sigurd lay on a soft bed constructed of grass and animal furs. His eyes were closed, his craggy face white and creased with pain. One hand lay folded across his chest, the other rested on the hilt of his sword, which lay beside him. Bless the men for letting Sigurd clasp his sword. If the worst happened and he died, he would be 201

Leigh Bale

welcomed into Valhalla.

Jonas swallowed hard. He had prepared himself for the worst, but nothing could take away the flush of fear pulsing in his veins now that he saw his father. Jonas felt helpless, like a puling boy who could not yet lift his father’s sword to defend his mother’s life. As he approached Sigurd’s bed, he had to stifle the sob rising in his throat. A lump formed there and he couldn’t swallow.

Sweat beaded Sigurd’s brow and upper lip. His

breath sounded raspy and shallow. Jonas moved to one side of the makeshift bed while Kerstin knelt by Sigurd’s other side and placed her hand upon his brow. Opening his eyes, Sigurd looked up at his son.

“You came.” His hoarse whisper filled the hut as he raised one arm to clasp Jonas’s hand.

Jonas knelt beside Sigurd. “Nothing could keep me from your side, Father.”

Sigurd licked his cracked lips. “Your mother is well?”

“She is well and sends you all her love.”

Heaving a weary sigh, Sigurd closed his eyes, then opened them again. “You’ll see to her welfare. You’ll lead our people.”

As Kerstin drew back the furs to see the wound in Sigurd’s abdomen, Jonas tried to smile. Halfdan said Sigurd had whirled about in time to meet the thrust of a sword. If Jonas had been at his back protecting him…

He glanced at Kerstin, praying she could repair the damage.

Her gaze met his and she shook her head once. His throat closed. Knots of emotion lodged in his chest and he couldn’t breathe. He recognized the severity of his father’s wound, yet he couldn’t accept it. Kerstin had to do something. She could use her magic to heal Sigurd. She must!

“Father, you’ll return home with me to lead our people, just as you’ve done these many years. Mother told me to bring you home and you know she always gets her way.”

Sigurd gave a bleak smile but he didn’t try to argue.

“Give me your pledge.”

His pledge! Please, no!
Jonas didn’t want to be Earl of Hawkscliffe. That had been Bjorn’s birthright. For Jonas 202

The Heart’s Warrior

203

to be earl, it would mean Sigurd was—

“Speak it!” Sigurd rasped, his gray eyes filled with an urgent gleam.

Meeting Sigurd’s gaze, Jonas hardened his jaw. “I swear to lead our people and give my life for their protection. I give you my pledge.”

Sigurd’s mouth curved in a weak smile. His

shoulders relaxed and he seemed at peace now he had passed his responsibility on to his son.

Jonas looked away, blinking against the burn of

tears. What was he, a foundling boy? He was a man, a leader of fierce warriors. He mustn’t fail his father now.

****