We reached the edge of the town, Bjorn pulling me low, our shoulders pressed together as we eyed the beach and ships. I could feel the heat of him through the sleeve of my dress, almost as though fire burned inside of him as surely as it did the axe for which he was famed. He smelled of fresh-spilled blood and sweat, but also of leather and pine. Given the circumstances, I shouldn’t have cared, but part of me cringed that I currently reeked of pig.
“We’ll have to go in from behind,” Bjorn murmured. “There are too many watching the ships to overpower without them sounding an alarm. Can you swim?”
“Yes.” I unfastened my heavy dress, slipping it off my shoulders and dropping it in a heap, only to turn my head and find Bjorn watching me.
“This idea of yours improves with every passing moment,” he said, a hint of laughter in his voice. “Thank you for convincing me to come with you. The first story I’ll tell as I walk through the gates of Valhalla, which may happen sooner than I’d anticipated, is of the shield maiden who stripped near naked to charge into battle.”
“I can’t swim in a heavy dress,” I snapped. “And I’m sure those in Valhalla will swiftly discover that your presence is much more tolerable when you keep your mouth shut.”
He pulled off his blood-soaked shirt and tossed it aside. I scowled at him. “Why did you do that?”
“It’s a very heavy shirt,” he answered. “It might weigh me down. These too.” Bjorn started to unfasten his belt, but I swatted at his hand, choice words rising to my lips until I saw a slice along his ribs, his side streaked with blood. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing.” He reached down to pick up a stick about as thick as my wrist. “Leave the sword. You won’t be able to swim with it. Take this instead.”
I took the stick, shivering as wind blew over us, the thin shift I wore doing nothing to guard me from the chill. Bjorn moved to block the breeze, then murmured, “I’ll light it once we’re out of sight.”
Keeping far away from the pooled torchlight of those guarding the drakkar, we crept down to the water. I flinched, the cold piercing my bones as I waded out, the depth eventually forcing me to swim. My breathing came in ragged little gasps, instinct demanding that I retreat, that I find somewhere warm, but a backward glance at the great hall in the distance gave me courage to press forward.
It was almost impossible to see, so I followed the faint sounds Bjorn made as he swam ahead, able to move more quickly, given he wasn’t hindered by a stick. He circled around, then came at the drakkar from behind. Shivers wracked my body, my limbs growing stiffer with each passing second. Real concern that I might drown washed over me, and it was a relief when my feet struck ground. It was shallow enough to stand, though the swells of the fjord came up to my chin.
“I’ll lift you into the drakkar,” he whispered. “Light the sails and then get back in the water. We only want to draw them out of Halsar, not sink the fleet and force them to stand their ground. I’ll get the other ship.”
I gave a tight nod and then his hands closed over my hips. Despite the freezing water, his palms were hot through the soaked fabric of my shift, his hands big enough to span my hips, his thumbs pressing into the curve of my arse. The sensation sent a jolt of heat through me that was intensified when I felt his breath against my neck, my spine, and the backs of my thighs as he slowly lifted me to avoid any splash.
Catching hold of the side with my free hand, I checked to ensure no one was looking before hooking an ankle over and hauling myself in. Lowering the stick over the side, I waited.
“Tyr, grant me your flame,” Bjorn whispered, and I cringed as his axe burned to life, the glow so bright it seemed impossible no one would notice. But the eyes of the warriors guarding the drakkar remained fixed on Halsar. Seconds later, the crackle of flames reached my ears. I lifted the burning stick and pulled it out of view within the drakkar, keeping low as I crawled toward the lowered sails. One eye on the guards, I held the flames to the folds of fabric, grinning as they caught.
Get back in the water. Bjorn’s instructions repeated in my ears, but my eyes went to the drakkar next to the one I knelt in. What if Gnut’s warriors refused to abandon the fight for a drakkar or two? What if they needed more incentive?
With mead still fueling my impulses, I jumped to the next drakkar as fire crawled up the mast behind me. Whether it was the crackle of flame or the sound of my feet hitting wood, I wasn’t sure, but the warriors turned, their eyes widening in horror. “Fire!” one of them shouted, and I dived toward the sail, shoving the burning stick deep into the folds.
“Stop her!”
My pulse roared as feet thundered down the dock, and I lunged toward the edge of the drakkar and the relative safety of the water.
Only for my legs to jerk out from under me.
Cursing, I twisted to find my ankle tangled in a rope. And the warriors were nearly upon me.
Terror turned my skin to ice, my heart fighting its way up my throat as I fumbled with the rope, trying to jerk my foot free. But the loop only tightened.
“Come on,” I pleaded, clawing at it with my scarred right hand, then switching to my left. “Come on!”
My nails scratched my skin as I got my fingers under the rope and pulled, managing to loosen the loop enough to get my foot free. Crawling to the edge, I tried to hurl myself over—
Only to be struck in the back with what felt like a battering ram.
I toppled and landed headfirst in the water, the weight of the warrior who’d struck me driving me down and down until I hit the rocky sea floor.
Panic pulsed through me and I twisted, clawing and scratching, doing everything I could to get out from under him. He only caught hold of my wrists, pressing them against the rocks hard enough to bruise.
I slammed my knees into his stomach and was rewarded with a rush of bubbles, but his hold didn’t falter, his feet churning to hold us both down. Again, I tried to kick him, but I couldn’t get leverage. Couldn’t hit him hard enough to make him let me go.
Pressure grew inside my chest. My body jerked this way and that but I couldn’t get free. And I needed to breathe.
Hlin, I begged, help me!
Magic surged inside me, waiting for me to use it, but my wrists were pinned. Which meant my magic was useless. I was useless.
And I needed to breathe. Gods, I needed to breathe!
Light flared overhead. A cloud of warmth washed over my face. The hands holding me down went limp.
I kicked my legs, trying to get to the surface for precious air, but I collided with the dead man.
Which way was up?
Which way was air?
My vision dimmed as my chest spasmed, my mouth opening to suck in air that was not there and—
Hands closed around my arms, hauling me upward. My head broke the surface right as I sucked in what had nearly been the last breath I’d ever take.
“I told you to get back in the water, not light the whole cursed fleet on fire!”
I was in no position to argue, only to gulp breaths as Bjorn pulled me away from shore. Away from the brilliant glow of fire and the desperate shouts of Gnut’s warriors, who were tossing water on the flames.
“It’s working,” Bjorn said, the stubble of his chin brushing against my cheek. “They’re retreating to save the ships. Look.”
He was right. Warriors spilled out of Halsar, weapons sheathed in favor of buckets, the dozens of men working in frenzied unison to salvage the three ships we’d set ablaze.
Slowly, the flames faded to embers, but as the men stood with buckets in hand, a drumbeat filled the air.
From the darkness of the streets, Snorri and his warriors appeared. No longer scattered and disorganized and drunk, the men and women moved with shields locked in a wall that would be no easy task to breach. As one, they made their way to the beach before stopping. And waiting.
A massive man wearing a helmet started down the dock. He pulled his axe from his belt and my breath caught.
The battle wasn’t over.
Despite all the death and destruction, they were going to keep fighting.
I’m not worth it, I wanted to scream. I’m not worth all of this death!