Winter Solstice Winter - Book I in the Viking Blood Saga

Ailia woke up in a small wooden cage, which was propped up against the wall of a large longhouse, how large she couldn’t tell. The box prison was too squat to stand up in, but wide enough that she could almost stretch her legs all the way out in one direction when she lay down. The floor was covered with hay and old frayed fabric and the heavens were quickly turning dark. Feeling at he back of her head as she sat up, she felt a tender lump.

  It was difficult to see out between the tightly assembled planks, but slits between the construction allowed her to make out that the longhouse she was backed up against was one of five large ones built in a circle. Beyond the narrow passageways between the buildings she saw many other longhouses, shacks, and barns.

  She assumed she was at the Viking settlement Soren and she had passed by on their way back to Bergendal many months ago. And she remembered Hanna mentioning that she, too, was imprisoned in a crate similar to this one.

  Right next to her, there were a few more cages propped up against the wall and she thought there might be one other person inside the cage furthest away from her.

  “Hello?” she called.

  Movement came from the other cage. “Hello?” a woman’s voice beckoned in return.

  “Where are we?” Ailia asked.

  “Where are we?” the answer came. The woman’s accent revealed that she was not from here.

  She grimaced. Why is she playing games? “Do you understand me?”

  “Do you understand me?” the answer came.

  Ailia huffed. She must not understand me.

  Before she had lost consciousness, Gunnar had dragged her out of the church. He had thrown her into an enclosed sleigh with her overcoat, but without her mittens, and she had watched with great dread as they set the stave church on fire. Ivar had still been inside the chapel, trying to fend off the Vikings, but she hadn’t seen what happened to him before one of the brutes had hopped into her sleigh and knocked her on the head so hard she had lost consciousness.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she had cried, but now, with her body being cold and tired, and being all alone, she had a hard time holding back the tears.

  Now I shall never defeat Eiess. The scrolls have been burned, and the Aesira jewel is gone. Will I ever see Soren again? She hated being so vulnerable in the grasp of such a savage as Gunnar. What did he want with her? Why hadn’t he just killed her like the Vikings had the others?

  Loud, unencumbered laughter came from inside the larger of the five longhouses. The Vikings were in a happy, highly-tipsy mood, probably from drinking all the mead they had stolen in Bergendal and the surrounding villages. Most likely, they were proud of their conquests, reveling in their victory and congratulating themselves on such a successful night.

  Suddenly, the door to the largest longhouse burst open, causing Ailia to cower to the back of her cage. Several Vikings staggered out into the central area as they clung onto each other. They were halfway undressed, their round, pale bellies hanging out to meet the cold. Snow fell onto their beards and bodies and they bellowed a song.