Chapter 18

Sookie watched as the longships left the harbour, hugging the coast as they headed north towards Paris, and Sookie found herself wondering how the people in Kattegut were faring, if they had enough to eat or if the crops had grown. Would the Viking warriors survive to return home and bring in the harvest?

“I wish Ragnar would send them home.”

“He will – most of them,” Lagertha replied. “They are to be sighted and chased only. Our ships are faster, even filled with plunder. They should not be caught.” Sookie nodded. “Has the sickness passed?” Sookie nodded again. “Soon you will begin to show. We must get you home whilst we can still fit you into the ship.” Sookie laughed and Eirek joined her. “Look at you both,” Lagertha said at last. “Your children will be beautiful and fierce.” She placed an arm around her son and adopted daughter, steering both of them back towards the gathering army of men and some women, all of them mounted on horses they had stolen from up and down the coast. Ragnar was in the middle of them, his shaved head with the blue woad tattoos marking him as king, his body shifting with ease as the horse danced impatiently beneath him, his sword swung casually across his back.

“Ah, my errant family – so nice of you to join us.” He was in high spirits – death was in the air and he had an old debt he was eager to settle.

Sookie was learning to ride a horse, just as she had to learn so many new skills in this place and time, but she was grateful when Eric lifted her up into a saddle and then swung himself up behind her.

“I’m not taking any chances with you,” he whispered into her ear, sending delightful shivers down her spine and straight to her core.

The journey was slow and arduous, in spite of the breathtaking scenery. They passed rugged cliffs that plunged down into the blue sea, and Sookie felt as though she had stepped into one of the glossy-paged guide books she had sometimes borrowed from the library, books she had kept hidden under her pillow so she could dream of these places that her poverty barred her from, the books hidden from Gran’s sight because she didn’t want to make the old lady feel bad. She knew she was seeing the Ligurian coast. Tall, brightly coloured villages were huddled against the sea, standing close together for warmth and protection against the salt spray. Carved into the cliff faces, Sookie could see vineyards and small dots of people toiling in them, though how they ever grew anything in such rocky soil she would never know. Her fingers tingled and as they rode past she pushed a little magic into the soil of that land, hoping it would help the people.

“Lover, you are too soft. Don’t exhaust yourself.” The coast may not be the same as it was in her time, but at least she was seeing it with the man she loved. Sookie sighed, snuggling back into Eirek’s hard chest, the muscles of his abdomen bunching and swaying in time with the horse’s gait. She slipped her hand between the cloth of his shirt and his skin, feeling his stomach tighten and harden under her soft little palm. Eirek growled and tightened his grip on her, wiggling her bottom further back so his hard cock nestled in its round curve.

“Careful, or I will fuck you on this horse.”

“Is that even possible?”

“Would you like to try?”

“But – “

“I could lose them all,” he said quietly. Wow, that was – tempting.

His hand slipped down beneath her skirts from behind, his hand draped over her thighs as he plunged his fingers deep inside her, the other hand holding the reins to keep the horse moving steadily forward.

“No-one can see,” he whispered. And sure enough between her pants of desire and stifled moans, Sookie could see they had fallen behind.

“Weres,” Sookie gasped. “Weres surrounding us. It’s an ambush!” Eirek withdrew his hand from Sookie and grasped his sword, racing forward to the main column of Ragnar’s troops.

“Attack!” he shouted and Ragnar wheeled his horse at once to face his son, raising his hand in signal to his warriors.

Weres burst out of the surrounding scrub, some of them mounted, others changing into wolves mid-stride, sickening pops ringing out across the cliffs, the air thick and heavy with the scent of wet dog, the taste of wet fur filling their mouths and noses. The Viking warriors waited for Ragnar’s command, and then they began to cleave the weres asunder.

“Something’s wrong,” Sookie muttered as Eirek smiled apologetically at her as he rode into the fray. “They aren’t meant to be this fast.”

“Nowhere is safe. I cannot keep you out of the fight – ” His sword clashed with another as he stabbed a were through the heart, felling him at once from his horse.

“It’s alright,” Sookie soothed him. “I want to fight.” She gathered her light and called it up within her, letting it pool and fill in her hands as she prepared to defend what was hers. She drew on the sun itself, collecting its rays as though she was a piece of glass and then she pushed it out of her fingers with such force she incinerated four weres and set the grass on fire.

“Oops.” Eirek grinned as he cleaved a were’s skull in two. Some of them began to run, trying to flee the strange light and the flames and the steadily rising smoke that burned out the smell of wet dog, replacing it with charred flesh.

The land around them began to fill with bodies of the dead from both sides. Vikings lay in the dust, waiting for their valkyries to arrive and take them. The weres who died returned to their human forms, their bodies curled and naked in the blood and the dirt. Some were wounded, trying to staunch the flow of their blood as best they could.

“They’ve had blood,” Sookie told Eirek. “That’s got to be it. Not all of them, but that group there – “

A group of about five enormous shaggy-haired weres were fighting back-to-back, cutting a swathe through Ragnar’s warriors.

Ragnar rode towards Eirek, slicing through the arm of a were who was trying to attack Lagertha from behind, who turned and made short work of the were with her own sharp sword. But then the group of five weres focused their energy on cutting their way through to Sookie and Eirek as another wave of wolves attacked Ragnar, one of them latching onto his leg.

Sookie focused her energy on the group of five weres, pulling out so much light from the sky around her that for a moment it all went dark, like an eclipse. She raised her hand, the fireball poised on her fingertips for a moment before she hurled it forward – and it backfired, bouncing off the five weres whose shirts fell open to reveal iron armour and at last Sookie understood why they hadn’t shifted.  Her light flew back towards Eirek before dodging and twisting to miss him, a comet of fae power twisting and turning through the eclipse-darkened sky. Sookie threw up her shields but too late – Eirek was fighting for his life against these blood-dosed weres, pulled down from his horse and he was using every ounce of strength and skill he had to keep from joining his comrades in the dust.  Sookie found herself grabbed by rough, strong arms, ripped from her seat on the horse, her arms pulled behind her as they were roughly bound with something thin and strong that burned at her skin and she knew it was some kind of iron chain, the manacles clapped around her wrists causing her to cry out in pain.

“Sookie!” Eirek was fighting hard against the weres, beheading one and trying to slaughter the others who grabbed at her and began to drag her away. He fought and he raved and he screamed but there was nothing he could do as he watched them force Sookie to follow them, pulling mercilessly on the iron chains that bit and burned at her flesh. She tried to summon her powers, but the iron bonds cut her off from her light, dampening it down till her fingers couldn’t even produce a spark. The flames were spreading around them, thick and black choking smoke making eyes smart and throats burn as with a final vicious pull Sookie was dragged away by the iron-clad weres.

Eirek leapt on his horse and gave chase through the coastal scrub, his sword drawn, leaves and branches ripping at his clothes as he rode the gods knew where to try and seize her back – to end those men and hold her in his arms once more.

Ragnar and Lagertha surveyed the carnage, bodies piled in untidy heaps all around them. When they took Sookie, the fighting ended, all the remaining weres turning tail and fleeing off into the surrounding countryside. Ragnar let them go, his bitten leg staining his pants red. His eyes met Lagertha’s.

“Go after him. Find him. I will see to my men here.”

“Have your wound tended,” Lagertha insisted. Ragnar nodded, his impatience and frustration building.

“I want to ride after him with you! I want to find those men and cut their throats and rescue our daughter and grandchildren – “

“Daughter?” Lagertha cocked an eyebrow. Ragnar paused.

“She is worthy,” he said at last. “They are meant to be and I don’t want him to make the same mistakes I did, to let go of the woman who was his match, who the gods made for him -” Ragnar stepped closer to Lagertha, expecting her to fend off his advances but instead she reached out her hand to him and ran it lightly down his cheek.

“Be well, Ragnar. I will find our son.” Lagertha stepped closer to him, her lips brushing against his lightly before she leapt up into her saddle and rode out to find Eirek.

By nightfall, his horse was spent and stumbling on the uneven ground. Why couldn’t he find her? They’d had only moments before he had taken off after them – how could they have gone so far in such a short time? His head was filled with recriminations. If only, if only. He wished he could rip open his own veins and take out that foul creature’s blood – his maker. The word tasted vile on his lips as his mind struggled to remember, struggled to show him how Appius had attacked and drained him to unconsciousness.

If he was vampire, he could find her. He would be bonded to her. He could track her. If he was vampire, he could rend his enemies with his fangs, with his bare hands.

If he was vampire, he could fly.

A twig broke behind him and he stilled on his horse, waiting for his assailant to show himself.

Appius stepped forward into the moonlight. His fangs snicked down at the sight of his future-child, all windswept and covered in bleeding scratches.

“She is gone. Russell has taken her.”

Eirek’s growl of frustration and anger shocked him. He had hoped to break him with this news, render him helpless and to take him into his arms with the aid of glamour if necessary. Instead he raised his sword.

“Then I will cut off your head!”

Appius chuckled, long and low. “You haven’t the element of surprise. My blood is in you. I can feel you wherever you go. Tell me, have you enjoyed the dreams I sent you? Oh I have been following you all these weeks, and  every time you have fucked your fairy I have felt what you have felt as she was wrapped so tight around your cock – but you are more to my taste than she is, for all her deliciousness.”

Eirek leapt from his horse, sword in hand, ready to cut the fucker’s head off but of course Appius easily evaded him.

“You will be my child.”

Eirek dropped his sword, realising how futile it was. Could he use himself as a weapon to save Sookie?

“Then turn me. Turn me now.”

Appius hissed, his cock hard at the sight of Eirek baring his neck to him. In a moment he grabbed Eirek by the shoulders, forcing him down to his knees so he could bite into his neck, drain him dry and fill him with his blood before burying him here, in this cold ground, holding him in his arms as he transformed him with the magic of his blood, turning him into a creature of the night, the moon and the stars his new sun.

His fangs grazed Eirek’s skin lightly, almost making him come in his pants. But then searing pain burned through him and he doubled over, at first just thinking it was Russell’s command not to drain him – but no. His maker’s command had forced his fangs back into his mouth but this was something more.

Silver. Someone had stabbed him with silver.

Appius pulled at the offending object, ripping it free from the flesh of his side. A – a cross? Was this payback at last for all the Christians he had personally crucified along the road to Rome a thousand years ago?

But standing behind him was not the Jesus of the Christians but instead a woman, tall and blonde, her hair pulled back in warrior’s braids, blue eyes blazing as she ripped a branch from a tree to use as an impromptu stake.

Appius fled.

Lagertha dropped to her knees beside her son, cradling him in her arms as they both collapsed into the ground and he wept. She stroked his hair, remembering when he had been so small, when she had pulled him out of herself and held him bloody and naked to her breast.

This was her son.

And nobody fucked with her son and got away with it.

Chapter 19