Winter Solstice Winter - Book I in the Viking Blood Saga

Ailia woke up drenched in sweat, gasping for air, crying out for help. She hadn’t had a maredream in a while and had thought the horrifying visions had finally vanished. Why? Why had they returned now? It had been months since the last one. She couldn’t stop her heart from beating erratically, or prevent her hands from trembling.

  It was nothing but a dream, she repeated to herself over and over. But the fear wouldn’t subside this time. Dangling her feet over her bed, she debated whether she should try to go back to sleep or get up. No one in Brandersgaard was awake yet; it was as quiet as the deepest ocean. The ocean she had just… No! She mustn’t think of it. Not today. Not any day.

  Suddenly, it dawned on her what day it was.

  It was winter solstice and Ailia’s eighteenth birthday. For any other girl her age, it would be a happy day, but Ailia always felt gloomy this time of year as thoughts of her birth parents surfaced to the forefront of her mind. Normally, to compensate for this, she would have invited friends over to celebrate, but all her friends had abandoned her. Rumors of Ailia’s curse still buzzed through Bergendal, and more recently she had even been branded a traitor for having attended a couple of meetings at the Christian stave church. She had quit going, hoping the persecution would stop, but now she felt like a coward for allowing others to control her in this way. Perhaps Uncle Brander was right when he said she needed to stand up for herself more. Perhaps she was obtuse.

  She had realized that marrying Geir might be a blessing in disguise. No one in Solnes, Geir’s hometown, knew about her alleged curse, and if she did decided to join the Christians, Solnes had many more followers than Bergendal and were much more tolerant to other religions. Geir had even expressed interest in converting when he had visited last month, which had Unni smiling and Brander gawking. She found herself looking forward to a new beginning even though it took marrying a man she didn’t love. But perhaps she could, like Unni had said, learn to love him. Their wedding was set for spring and Unni had just recently started sewing Ailia’s dress.

  When the red cock crowed, Ailia rose and dressed in her new rust red tunic. Unni had given it to her yesterday as an early birthday present. She had embroidered the edges of the skirt hem and sleeves with butterfly stitching, and the wool was exquisitely soft. Deciding to head to Odinseat to clear her mind, she threw on her sheepskin overcoat, pulled on her wool mittens, and bundled her scarf around her head, tucking it down into her neck. She also wanted to go there to get a better view of the Auroras that had been beaming across the heavens over the past few nights. Odinseat was the place in Midgard where the Norse god Odin supposedly visited when he needed to ponder and receive inspiration. And lately, it was one of Ailia’s favorite places to go.

  Fresh out the door, she took to a brisk walk. It wasn’t too cold outside today, so she was looking forward to her little secret excursion under the star-speckled heavens. If she hurried, she figured she could even be back by sunrise, which was always late morning this time of year. She crossed the nearly frozen-over Bergendal River and continued through the pine-covered mountainside and on to Odinseat.

  Ailia climbed upward for some time until she came to the steepest part of the mountain. With her back to the icy ridge, she inched her way sideways, so she could squeeze to the other side of the peak. Finally she stepped onto Odinseat, a perfectly flat and massive cliff jutting out from the mountain. The sky had been clear at the onset of her trip, but now, and to her great disappointment, heavy clouds hung in the heavens instead of stars, and she could not see anything in any direction. Strange, she thought, how all these clouds had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. There was no way she would be able to see any of the Auroras in this overcast weather. All that for nothing? Ailia laughed. Just like my life lately: a huge disappointment. Figuring she might as well sit here for a while after having trudged through knee-high snow nearly the entire way, she slowly inched toward the drop-off. Almost to the edge, she sat down and scooted the rest of the way until her legs dangled over the steep cliff. It wasn’t much of a sight as the fog covered everything more than a few feet away. But it felt good to be alone.

  She sat still for a long time, thinking of all the things she had now started to realize she would never experience—love, being one of them. That was the hardest one to give up. She could never love Geir. There was no connection between them whatsoever and marrying him would be like marrying Uncle Brander: unnatural, awkward and plain wrong. But at least I will have peace, she thought.

  As she sat there a while longer, the cold began sneaking its way back into her body. She tucked her hands underneath her armpits to warm them, but she really needed to get up and move to not freeze. Then the first snowflake gently swayed down from above. I best get home, she thought. The last thing she needed was to get stuck in the mountains in the middle of a snowstorm on her birthday.

  She edged her way back around the ridge and started down the slope. Suddenly, she lost her foothold and slid down the mountainside. She didn’t go far, however, before a pine tree stopped her rapid descent with a thud. After assuring herself that she was not hurt, Ailia opened her eyes. The air was much clearer here than on the other side of the mountain and would make it much easier to climb down.

  Then, she saw them: a multitude of ruggedly-dressed men standing in the forest, holding longswords, colorful shields, spears, bows and arrows, and Dane axes. Most of them had heavily-bearded faces and they all had thick fur or sheepskin overcoats, with heavy boots, mittens and hats or hoods covering their heads. A few of the closest men spotted Ailia and pointed at her.

  “Look over there! A girl!” one of them yelled.

  Her stomach roiled. Where had they come from? What were they doing here, hundreds of them, thousands perhaps. If this was an attack on Bergendal, she needed to get word to Brander as soon as possible. But first, she needed to escape.

  “Gunnar, seize that girl straightaway!” a man with a huge scar running down the side of his face said.

  Ailia got up as fast as she could and ran in the opposite direction of the men. The snow on the slanted forest floor was difficult to run in and she kept slipping. All she could think about was her fear and how stupid she had been in not telling anyone where she had gone. Her heart started racing a thousand miles a minute now because she knew she was in grave danger.

  “Stop!” Gunnar yelled after her. “Stop, or I will kill you!” On his way toward Ailia, he grabbed his Dane ax. “I have my ax aimed at your head and I’m ready to unleash it!”

  Ailia froze up and slowly turned to face her pursuer. Gunnar? she thought. She used to know a man named Gunnar. He’d come over and visit Brandersgaard when Ailia was a child and she thought she remembered that he might somehow be related to Unni. This probably was not the same Gunnar, she figured.

  Should I run? Shouldn’t I run? They would probably kill her if they caught her. They would probably kill her if she tried to run. Fear raced through Ailia’s veins and her heart thumped against her ribs. Her feet instinctively started backing away from her adversary.

  “Who are you?” she heard herself ask. No answer. The distance between her and Gunnar was decreasing rapidly as he pranced toward her light on his feet. Get home! Get home! Acting on instinct, Ailia spun around to make a run for it. What she had failed to notice was that another man had snuck up behind her. She ran into his chest, and before she had a chance to escape, he had grabbed her by the hair.

  The pain was agonizing. “Ouch!” she yelled, grabbing his thick forearm. Tears flooded her eyes. He smelled disgusting, unfamiliar, almost sweet and yet rancid. Then she noticed a black raven embroidered onto his grungy, red wool overcoat. Don’t the Vik people carry a raven emblem?

  Her hair hurt, but she forced herself not to think about that now. They are going to kill me! “Unni! Brander!” she screamed, kicking her captor in the shin. But she knew they couldn’t hear her. Not out here, miles away from Brandersgaard. In a flash, she thought back to a conversation she had overheard between Bishop Peter and Sigrid
, their thrall. “If you ever meet a Vik person, make sure that whatever you do—” the Bishop had said, “—do not ever let them capture you and take them to their settlement. For if you do, you are as good as dead.”

  “Tie her to a tree,” the scar-faced man said.

  “No!” Ailia yelled, kicking her legs and thrashing her arms. But the more she resisted, the harder her detainer tugged at her hair.

  Gunnar pulled out a rope, bound her arms and feet, and then wound the rope around her torso, tying her to a hefty trunk.

  “What do I do with her now?” he asked.

  “I will decide that later,” the scar-faced man said and rushed off.

  Another man came up to Ailia and started untying his trousers. She immediately knew what he was going to do and felt sick to her stomach. But before he was even able to touch her, a circular object came flying through the air and struck the man. His head split open and he crashed into the snow, turning it red. Snowflakes were coming down so heavily now that Ailia had a hard time seeing where the object had come from. But as she trained her gaze into the night, she saw a woman on a black horse in the distance, wearing a light-colored dress. The woman caught the flying weapon and placed it on her head. A crown?

  “Keep your men focused on the task at hand,” the woman yelled angrily to the scar-faced man. “If not, I will find other men to do the job.”

  “Yes, Empress Eiess,” the scar-faced man said, bowing.

  Ailia’s blood curdled in her veins. Eiess is—a living, breathing person?

  She tried desperately to see through the white curtain of snow, but it was impossible because it was still dark. Are the Surtorians here, too? She didn’t see any, only the shabbily dressed Vik men.

  “Get into your formations,” one of the leaders called out. Without missing a beat, the men lined up in five long lines across the mountainside. Standing shoulder to shoulder, with their weapons in hand, and at full attention, the men turned to warriors before Ailia’s eyes.

  Eiess did not seem to recognize Ailia or even care that she was there—only that she did not distract the men from their plans. She rode toward Ailia on her black stallion, conversing with the scar-faced man.

  “You will advance your men from the south,” Eiess said. “The Surtorians will come from the east. Once the outside of the Northlandic Castle has been secured, I will enter and take over the throne—alone. Vilda, the king’s sister, has agreed to try and talk King Olav into a peaceable solution. If he does not agree, we will have to use a more creative method.”

  “My men are ready at your command,” the scar-faced man said.

  “Good, because I would hate to be disappointed by you again,” Eiess said. “Your job is to make sure the people of Bergendal do not interfere in my plans. Keep the inhabitants as unsuspecting as possible. Only kill if you absolutely have to. I need them alive, so they can do work for me later.”

  “Yes, Your Excellency,” the man said. “What about the girl over there?”

  Ailia’s ears pinned instinctively, but she barely dared listen for the answer. What will my fate be?

  “I do not have time to worry about an insignificant peasant girl. See that she does not cause any more distractions among your men. After the throne is mine, you can do with her as you please,” Eiess said.

  Ailia breathed for a moment. Safe for now, but she feared what would come after. Captivity? Rape? Torture? Death? All four?

  “Once that is complete, may I take the rest of Bergendal’s spoils with me?” the scar-faced man asked.

  “Spoils?” Eiess said. “If you do your job like I have commanded, there should be no spoils. I do not want your men plundering or raping in Bergendal. This will be my city now. Anything you plunder, you will be plundering from me. I will reward you with longships and treasures beyond your wildest imagination if you do your job to my satisfaction.”

  “Of course, Your Excellency,” he said, bowing.

  “Now, let us take charge of Bergendal and the entire Northlandic Kingdom,” Eiess commanded.

  The scar-faced man marched over in front of his men who were waiting.

  “No plundering! No raping! No killing, unless I command! Only imprison those who rebel. Try to remain invisible to the people of Bergendal. If you keep to these rules, there will be generous amounts of treasures and countless other opportunities for all of you! If you do not keep to these rules, you all know what happens to traitors!” the Vik leader said. The warriors quietly clanked their weapons on their shields.

  The Vik leader nodded to Eiess, who nodded back.

  “Then let us proceed with our descent,” Eiess said.

  The warriors started moving down the mountainside as quietly as cats, ready to help Eiess usurp the Northlandic Throne.

  8

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