The Heart's Warrior (37 page)

He would be grateful to have her out of his life, his vengeance complete. Only the king’s order kept Jonas from ridding himself of her.

And what of Elezer? Would he come for her? She

shook her head, doubting him. She had learned he was a coward. He’d never jeopardize himself to save her.

Although darkness shrouded her, it wasn’t cold. Her movements kept her warm. Kerstin bit back tears of pain as she sat on a felled tree and prodded her ankle with her fingers.

Her nose twitched as she caught the scent of wood smoke. A campfire nearby!

Her head came up and her gaze searched the forest.

Crouching low, she forgot her ankle and crept along a line of birch trees, careful to make no sound. She heard them, the echoing voices of numerous men camped a short way off. She bellied down on the ground and used her elbows to crawl through the brush.

Oh, please let it be the king’s men. Please let it be my
father or Jonas.

Peeking over a large, gray boulder, she saw their standard. The royal crest of Vestfold waved in the breeze, but it bore the colors red and black.

The Eirikssons!

Eirik Bloodaxe stood in the clearing, facing her as he rubbed his hands together before a small campfire. She recognized him from the cloak he wore, a deep charcoal gray with sleeves stitched with golden thread and a miniature of the royal crest sewn over his right breast.

The vile wretch! He schemed to oust Hakon and

make himself king over York. His men had attacked Moere last summer, killing her mother in the process. Oh, how she loathed him.

He had thrown one side of his cloak back over his shoulder to reveal his famous war ax sheathed at his side.

A huge weapon, it looked too heavy for Kerstin to lift. The 252

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Bloodaxe had earned his horrific name by hacking to death any man or woman who stood in his way to the throne.

He stood at average height, with a sparse beard and rather large, bulbous nose. His small, beady eyes and pock-marked face appeared cruel. A brutal, vicious man.

Because she knew his horrible deeds, Kirsten shivered.

She must be careful not to fall into his hands.

Exhilaration thrummed in her blood. If she could

locate Jonas or her father, she could give them the exact location to Eirik’s camp. Her people could destroy this threat once and for all and discover the identity of the traitor.

Her gaze swept the camp, memorizing how many

men the Bloodaxe had, how many horses, what their weapons were, if they appeared starved and tired, or strong and able to fight. She tried to hear their conversation but it was unclear and she doubted she could get closer without being discovered. Her dangerous predicament did not bode well.

With utmost care, she moved back the way she came.

Detouring around the camp, she headed toward the west, intent on finding Jonas’s ships. Tovi had told her where they would be hidden.

She heard a movement ahead and ducked behind

some bushes. Two of the Bloodaxe’s watchmen

approached and her heart pounded in her ears. She breathed with relief when they passed.

They were so certain of victory. Certain of the traitor.

Soon, she saw the River Wear through the stand of timber. The dark waters sparkled in the orange lit night.

Jonas’s ships bobbed in the inlet, tethered by strong mooring lines. An open field of green grass stood between her and Jonas.

Kerstin broke from the sheltering trees. Across the wide field, she saw the shadows of her husband’s men standing watch along the shore. Where had the bulk of his army gone? They may have already fought in battle. Or they could be scouring the woods in search of the Bloodaxe’s camp.

As she limped across the field, she felt safe.

Several men rushed her from the forest’s cover. She 253

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cried for help, loud and shrill. A call came from the direction of the ships. Jonas’s men heard her too late.

She screamed again before a solid hand clamped

across her face. Three men picked her up and carried her back into the dense trees. She kicked and clawed, twisting to be free. They held her tight.

She bit the hand covering her mouth. The man

yelped with pain and Kerstin screamed again. Someone stuffed a gag between her lips. She fought to spit it out but a hand clapped over her mouth again and she

breathed through her nose in desperate inhales.

She shook her head furiously and they knocked her helmet off. Her long braid swung free. In the dark, she saw their eyes glitter with surprise when they realized she was a woman.

Her bow fell to the ground and her arrows spilled across the earth. One man bent to scoop the arrows up.

Another man pulled a woolen sack over her head.

They tied her hands in front of her, the rough hemp digging into the tender flesh of her wrists. Kerstin tried to scream against the gag and musty smell of the sack, but it came out as a dry, hacking sound.

Through the forest they moved fast, carrying her.

She hung limp in their solid grasp, unable to see anything. She envied them their strength and endurance.

How she wished she were strong like a man, then she would slice them through with a sword.

Frustration congealed her blood. She had failed. The thought made her kick harder and her foot struck one of the men in the groin.

“You evil witch! I’ll teach you—”

“Don’t strike her. You’ll mar her beauty. The

Bloodaxe will want her unharmed.”

She recoiled, anticipating a blow. It didn’t come. She didn’t recognize any voices as they tightened their hold on her arms and legs. They walked for some time, carrying her, cursing when she kicked and bucked and made their chore as difficult as possible.

They slowed their pace and Kerstin heard other

voices. They must be close to the Eiriksson camp. They deposited her on the ground and jerked the sack off her head.

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She blinked, sat up and found herself face-to-face with Eirik Bloodaxe.

A scream froze in her throat. It did no good to panic, especially with a gag in her mouth. Glancing about, she found herself surrounded by a multitude of men.

Eiriksson warriors. There would be no escape.

For now.

“Ah, what a prize!” The Bloodaxe grinned, showing yellowed teeth. “A woman, no less.”

He clapped Kerstin’s captors on the back. “Well done, men. Very well done.”

Kerstin glared at the Bloodaxe. She twisted her

hands, trying to pull free of their binding. A sharp stone dug into her hip and she shifted her weight. She longed to spit out the gag so she could tell this man what she thought of him.

Eirik walked to her, circling around, looking her over like a piece of chattel. Her gaze followed him and she glared her hatred. He reached to lift her heavy braid and feel the texture of her hair. Kerstin jerked her head away and whirled on him. If she had her bow and arrows, she’d teach him a barbed lesson.

Laughter shook his chest. “I believe you’ve captured a spitting cat.”

The Bloodaxe gestured to her mouth and a man

removed her gag. She worked her jaw to relieve the ache, dragging deep breaths of air into her lungs as she struggled to stand.

Eirik’s voice boomed through the camp. “So, we’ve captured the Witch of Moere. No doubt Alrik will be concerned to know we have his daughter. And I suspect Jonas of Hawkscliffe will be interested also.”

Kerstin’s eyes widened. He knew her name. Dare she deny it? “I am no witch,” she told him fiercely.

Eirik chuckled as he tugged at his sparse beard. “We were expecting you, my dear.” His gaze moved past her to where a lone man stood back amongst the trees. “You were right. She did come—and she is beautiful.”

Kerstin turned, squinting her eyes to see through the shadows. The man stood tall and slim but she couldn’t make out his features. When he came forward into the light, she gasped.

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“Elezer!”

An amused smile curved his handsome mouth. “Ah,

Kerstin, my love. What a joy to find you here. I knew you wouldn’t wait at home with the other women. You always did chase around the hills like a man. I warned Eirik you might show up at the battle front.”

As he stood before her, his eyes held a feral gleam; cruel eyes that made her stare with shock. The moon bathed him in orange light, his face dark and obscure. In that moment, Kerstin thought him as evil as Ragnarok, god of the final doom.

He showed a nasty grin. “Once we’re wed, I’ll see that you no longer make excursions into the hills. You’ll remain at home, where you belong.”

Elezer here. A blaze of dawning flooded her mind, sickening her as she understood what his presence meant.

“You’re the traitor.”

He chortled, a wicked, evil sound that sent shivers up her spine. She had loved him and would have married him. When she thought of how hard she fought for him.

She shuddered. Jonas had saved her from a terrible fate.

“Aye, little witch. I’m a spy for Eirik Bloodaxe.”

“But why? Why would you do such a thing?”

His mouth curled. “Many reasons. Mostly wealth and power. But also because I hate your father and Jonas.”

“And me?”

His gaze roamed over her body, his eyes filled with lust. “You have your uses.”

Her skin prickled with revulsion. “But you were there when Orm died. You left with Jonas. How have you come to be here?”

Elezer swaggered past her as he went to stand beside Eirik. “Jonas believes I took my army to an appointed place to cut off the Bloodaxe’s advance on the morrow.

Instead, I came here to warn my friends of the king’s plans.”

Kerstin threw a look of disgust at Eirik. “The

Bloodaxe is no friend, Elezer. He’s our enemy.”

The fool! Didn’t he know how Eirik used people for his own gain? The same way Elezer used her. The thought brought an ache to her chest, so intense that she gasped.

“The Bloodaxe will take your earldom from you,

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Elezer. You’ve betrayed your own people. You betrayed me.” Her stomach twisted in knots when she thought of how Elezer duped her. She had wanted to believe in him.

Jonas warned her, but never would she have thought Elezer a traitor.

Elezer shook his head. “Eirik doesn’t care who holds the northern lands, so long as I pay homage to him. Once we defeat King Hakon, I’ll be lord over Lade, Hawkscliffe and Moere.”

The blow of his deception cut deep and she clenched her eyes shut. “You murdered Anskar. I remember you left the hall before Orm died. You stabbed poor Anskar, then returned to the hall. You appeared so innocent.”

Elezer gave a deep laugh. “I couldn’t let Anskar reach the king. I slipped out of the hall and caught up to him—

just after I put the poison in Jonas’s drink. If he hadn’t given his cup to that bumbling Orm, Jonas would be dead now.”

“You tried to kill Jonas?” A wave of emotional pain pulsed over her. “And Bjorn? You were there at the wedding feast when Bjorn fell ill. Did you poison him too?”

She needed to know. For so long, she had wondered who killed Bjorn, frustrated because she couldn’t discover the truth and suffered the blame for his death.

“Of course I killed him.” He snickered. “I had to keep you from marrying him. He would have destroyed my plans. One by one, I would have done away with your father and brothers. With them gone, Moere would have gone to your husband. I wanted it. So, you see, Bjorn had to die, so you could marry me.”

“But how could you do that to me? Everyone accused me of his death. They never suspected you. When I think of how you acted so concerned as Bjorn lay dying, and afterward, how you defended me when everyone called me a witch and a murderer. You were my only source of comfort. My only friend. I fell in love with you. And it was all a lie.” Kerstin looked away, unable to stand the sight of him. He never loved her. He used her, nothing more.

She grit her teeth. Tears beaded in her eyes. Her voice trembled. “I felt sorry for you, Elezer. I felt horrible and guilty for hurting you when they forced me to marry Jonas. Now, I realize how unworthy you are.”

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Elezer shrugged and crossed his arms. “I don’t need your pity, Kerstin. I’ll rule all the northern lands very soon. You’d do well to seek my favor.”

“I will seek your death.”

He froze, his gaze locked with hers. In his eyes, Kerstin saw uncertainty. What a pathetic creature. A coward.

She curved her mouth into a sneer. “Jonas will kill you if I don’t do it first.”

Doubt clouded his eyes. Then, he chuckled. “I don’t think so. The Bloodaxe’s army will defeat Jonas. There’s nothing you can do to stop it now.”

A lance of fear pierced her. The ambush! She hadn’t warned Jonas, but Elezer didn’t know that. “Anskar didn’t die immediately. He told me of your plans to ambush the king and I’ve already warned Jonas.”

Elezer hooted with laughter. “You always were a poor liar, Kerstin. I know our men captured you before you could reach Jonas. He knows nothing of our plans.”

He challenged her bluff. The ramifications left her shaking.

Eirik snickered. Sweeping back his cape, he rested his hands on his hips and watched this exchange with amusement. The heartless monster.

More dread nibbled at her mind, compelling her to ask: “Did you murder Tostig?”

A wide grin split Elezer’s face. “Of course. It was quite easy. He was young and inexperienced in battle and I slid my dagger deep into his back, just as I did Anskar.

Everyone believed one of Sigurd’s men killed him during the skirmish.”

“Ohh!” Kerstin squeezed her eyes shut as she lowered her head, unable to absorb the renewed pain. Her dear youngest brother, Tostig. No one saw who killed him in such a gutless fashion. Too much confusion during the battle masked the murderer. Elezer had been there, fighting for Alrik’s cause. Instead, he murdered Alrik’s youngest son, then ran to safety.