Chapter 17: Settling a Debt

 

Mingling

I took a few steps across the ship and looked over the side. I had to wonder how often I was going to see this sight. One thing about Livonia, they are not all that well known for their seafaring, let alone ships and raiding parties. That is another key reason Calibri's dromon was taken so easily on the river. It was unexpected.

If I recall, the Sweds are the ones known for taking the spoils off of the Estonians and Livonians. 
Sometimes even further into the lands of the Rus. I wouldn't bank my earnings on what I could obtain from them. The adventure alone could cost much. I've seen it and the treasures are far more plentiful the sturdier their walls.

That is something I will never quite forget. My first time seeing Constantinople. There were a number of cities and great keeps that kept people like me out, but seeing the massive layout of the whole capitol of Christians was truly breath-taking. Of course, I never took anything that I would treasure from there.

I'm not really sure if there is anything I would treasure. My home and family? They are either gone or so far removed that their own problems prevent me from getting close anymore. 

My father is incapable. From having fallen off his horse awhile ago, his mind has become feeble and can only comprehend the simplest of subjects. I do believe my aunt told him both the spirit of me and a bastard daughter had returned home to seek his blessings. So be it, I would not fault my aunt for that.

Dorte has let the stresses of straining her reach snap her mind into insanity from trying to rule in a position that has never been granted to her. All the jarls, housecarls, and their subjects dotted on her word of merit, but never respected her position. She had to become something twisted and ugly for her to be heard by all. Even her family.

Dorit is taking care of Gunhelle and all of the little young ones that Lykke is neglecting. Where Dorte, our eldest family member subjected herself to cruelty, my eldest sister embraced compassion. Not quite matching another sister of mine, though.

Britt has her love for me, I know it, but she has betrayed my trust and I know that neither of us will want to look upon the other for awhile. I may have begun to show signs of insanity, maybe the fact that I was willing to accept my own death before being wed to a man had been a clue. I'm sure another sister of mine wouldn't have minded that one bit.

Lykke is entirely against my existence, or at least, she was. There is a shred of hope for us, but I think it is best for that matter to sink in after she heals from her incident with our aunt. I do still think back to that and wonder why I ever jumped in to protect her. I was rather enjoying her skin color change from pristine to purple and red. Oh, those imperious royal colors reminds me of another sister.

Solvej, otherwise known to me as Abella, is rather high and mighty in a snooty way. Annoying and someone I cannot stand to be around for more than a few minutes. Far too zealous, for my taste, even if we are the only two in the family that share our beliefs. I will concede a point that her voice rang out once to save me during the wedding. I don't think I would have been aware of what could have happened if she didn't step up, but I'm sure another sister would have came to my side.

Well, unless she is too worried about the life of another she is carrying.

Gunhelle is with child and has her own health to care for. Of course, Dorit will see to that she is properly cared for, but my issues will only bring unwanted stress. There are piles of it she must already feel weighing on her mind and sooner than later physically as she grows. I'm glad that another member will be swelling our family's numbers. Still, it stings and burns when I think back of the ones we lost.

Elin and Cille... They were my youngest elder sisters. Norwegians have maimed and slain them with no husband or child to survive them. I still know nothing of who or what their intent had been than conquest. If my uncle had still been around, he'd investigate the matter immediately, but he had died long ago from his age catching onto him and ailing health dragging his guard down to a fatal sickness.

Oh... That reminds me.

Unfortunately, I now have to carry a falsehood with me. Hremod, me, who I have to pretend is my brother, is dead. Apparently, he contracted an illness before reaching the Dnieper and reported confirmed dead in Kiev. 

Who am I now? Kris Gyriddottir of House Akra, a Bastard daughter of my crack-brained father, and now wed to a Livonian Earl as reimbursement for events out of my control. I'm also being called the Lady Vaiga.

Now I have to wander on this ship, wondering to myself how much more of my life I need to have changed before I can move on with it. I have a husband that wants to inspect enemy territory because he is promised to obtain it as a wedding gift after my nephew is crowned Kin. 
In the capitol of the Swedish people, no less, which drives a little bolt into the back of my head for me to itch until I can figure it out.

Vloros Vaiga, I have to deal with this man as his wife. That still irks me to no end. I NEVER CONSENTED! If anything, the wedding should be null and void, but there were far too many important figures that witnessed me saying, 'Yes.'

Dear God, you know that I was drugged, so why do you permit this marriage to go on with no absolution? May you please permit this curse of mine to be lifted? At the very least, prevent the visions I have seen and felt with my own true senses?

I let out a deep sigh and sit back, lean my head forward on crossing arms over the outer-edge of the ship, and hang my cheek and rolling chin over my forearm to swing with the current. A hand is laid on my shoulder. Lifting up my rocking chin, I inspect to see my husband reassuring me of the sail.

"We'll reach Aland in a week," he says assured of himself. Why does that assure me? We Danes could be there in less time.

"Why a week?" I ask this and stab my chin back into my arm.

"Three ships is going to spook the Alanders. We need to approach at a different angle and with less flagging." I had not thought about that. He wants to inspect, not raid the little island.

I give him a nod of approval, but say no more. He gives my shoulder a rub over and decides to sit down by my side rather than leave me be.

"What is on your mind?" He asks this with concern.

"Um," I look down over the ship again and into the sea to think of something convincing to say other-than my fear of being ostracized. "I suppose it is that I never had a chance to take a bath before leaving... I kinda promised my sisters that I would do so everyday." That is true and I had not before leaving.

"I think you smell fine. Let the spray shower you, if you're concerned." Those were my exact thoughts back then! I nearly smile at that.

"I suppose," I do regret not grabbing some of that soap from the wash-room though.

"Is the salt of the sea not wet enough?" Again, the desire to smack him rises.

"Just thinking of soap," I mention.

"Oh," he raises his head up at that thought. He turns his head to the other two ships, back to me, and then to the crew. "That changes everything."

"Huh?" I lift my head up and watch him stand to leave me. He heads over to the other side of the ship to yell across to where Valdis's Black Snake sails. There is motion on board that ship and I jump up to my feet when I see someone diving off.

I run to my husband's side to see who it was we had lost. I never had the chance to search out and talk with the crew. Now, we have a man less that I will know on this voyage to my new home.

Instantly, I see the figure and am utterly shocked at his swimming. He passes from the Black Snake over to the Red Snake before his fingers find some kind of hold to climb himself up the side. "How?" I turn to Vloros, "How is that possible?"

"Dzim, that is how," he shrugs and watches Dzim climb up the side like that name explains everything. There is no possible way for anyone to climb the side of a viking ship like this. It is as if he has hooks adhered from each palm he strikes on the side and rises up without rest.

The wild-eyed Liv jumps over the side and into our ship in a few seconds. "He said, 'Sure,' and for me to pass on the message to the others." I watch this maniac run to the other side of the ship to dive off and maybe repeat the same experience on the Yellow Snake!

"Vloros, are you going to tell me what he meant?" I lean down to view my husband's face. Sometimes I can detect if he is going to tell me what I want to know before he opens his mouth. If he grins, that is a yes, but with a catch. Straight face is a no. I have yet to receive a straight answer without the labor like pulling teeth from him.

He grinned, "We are going to Aland to get your soap." I really hope that is not what I think it means.

"Okay," I shakily smile and breath out to keep cool, "How?"

"How else? We ask and trade," he shrugs at me like this is an obvious conclusion.

I am very well aware he grinned at me and that there is something this Liv is hiding. For now, I will have to wait and see what exactly he's pulling out from beneath me.

The mid-morning grey sky changes over to a more orange afternoon roof of clouds.

I am starting to see something I shouldn't.

"Why are we sailing along the coast?" This is directed at anyone who can hear me.

No one apparently is replying. I will have to find Vloros and ask him myself.

Pushing away from the edge, I turn to where he is sitting and enjoying what little is left of a fruit's core. I am not too sure what kind of edible he had taken from my home, but it looked tasty and my mouth began to water.

I approach him. There are words I want to exchange with him, but the back of my throat becomes constricted and parched as I watch him lick the juices from his fingertips. I gulp back the saliva growing in my mouth and turn away.

He nearly stumbles out of his seat overextending to grab my arm. I am pulled back roughly until I land sitting in his lap. "Hungry?" He props up an apple and twirls it in his palm for me to see the rich color.

His arms encircle me and before my very eyes I watch his mighty hands twist and pulp the apple in a split-half. The dripping nectar of the fruit lands on my lap, but I'm more focused on taking either half for myself to let it roll down my tongue into the back of my throat. No, I just bite into it and savor the suckling of the apple's meat in my mouth. Seemed simpler.

He tilts his head, raises his brow for an instant, and smiles before enjoying the other half. The two of us eat in each others company while the crew continues to set the ship sailing further north along the coast.

A dark evening approaches with the blinding sparkles of the night soon to follow.

I think I might have dozed off at some point.

My eyes lift to see the sky. I catch a single cloud fleeting through the grids of stars in hope of meeting its flock of fluff. There is a hot tingle in my face, like the blood is rushing up and flashing the color crimson brightly enough for me to feel it. Even if I don't see it, but I sense it's there.

Each star I connect doesn't explain why I feel so vibrant while idle. When the sea blows out across the sail, I can feel my skin sparkle and every end of my nerve ping in alert. It is the night, both cold and dark and I am wrapped in one of the blankets the men had provisioned on board.

The ship rocks steadily back and forth. My head rolls to the side by a stronger rocking and I see the long edge of the ship reaching all the way back to the very end. 

I am looking at everything absentmindedly. 

The rocking doesn't seem to cease, which makes sense out at sea, but it is out of sync with my body's motion. I sound escapes my lips. I need to wake up. My eyes widen a moment to try and use the chilly night air to shock them.

I make to stand. Instead, I'm pulled back down and I grunt. Something is in me...

I lay a hand behind me, feeling a solid hard set of muscle flex as it comes to scoop beneath my waist and hold me tighter to its frame. There is an uninvited pressure beneath me that confirms what is bursting a radiant pulse within me. 

I stare down under the blanket.

The hose and leathers had been pulled down to my thighs. I feel myself lifted up again and I simply roll my head back silently. I blink a few times in wonder if I should keep quiet or say something.

There is a whole crew on this ship and I am very self aware if any one of them looking this way will cause a shame that would be too much. Yet, even the ones who are awake are turned away from where we are. Maybe they've seen it before?

I lifted and time again his arms pull me down. I couldn't keep myself from making a sharp inhale. I try to exhale slow, but it shudders. He continues to rock me in the slowest possible pace. For him, I suppose there is no rush. Not like he hasn't done anything that the rest of these men haven't. Maybe? I still don't know these men.

I watch out at the sea and wonder to myself if this is really going to be a regular thing. Will he expect me to do this every night or simply when he feels the need? Well, I never really had a need to do it. I suppose it is more of a want.

One of his arms comes sliding up to my chest and I manage to muffle the moan coming out of me enough to not cry out. He happens to be diving his hand past my jacket up the tunic to make dizzying circles around my hardening flesh until it cannot stand out any more. Problem is, his hand is freezing!

The slow build up has worked its way deep within me and I know at some point he will burst and I too. The difference would be that I will never feel the full satisfaction until he releases. He may gain that peak and I never reach it, but I am thankful that each time has been followed with my own brilliant flare.

I am not sure how many times he made me see the sky in those brilliant colors. The night had certainly been one to remember. I don't know if it was because he took his time, how the ship's rocking either enhanced his thrust or pulled me back down after his withdrawal, the way he sneaked himself up in me as I slept, the open air playing a new melody with our quiet voices, or perhaps the fact that at any moment there could have been a pair of eyes gazing on us in the act. Either of those or all of them had increased the excitement by at least five-fold.

In the glowing morn we both slept deep with him being my warmth and comfort.

I woke to find him eating again, but this time with his eyes expectantly on me. "Ah, good. I was wondering when I may have relief." Instantly, I jump off of him, half expecting a golden arc to fly between my legs or something. I pat down my thighs and glide my hands across my cheeks for any wetness.

My half-sleepy imagination got the best of me, I suppose.

Vloros rears back in uproarious laughter at my reaction. I turn to look at him with the feel of burning shame in my face as I feel the tug of my hose still wrapped around my bare thighs. I quickly tug them the rest of the way up as I hear the laughter of the crew behind me.

I glare at the men, "You fucking pigs." This only makes them choke and reach out for help from their dying ship mates or the very ship itself to steady themselves else keel over from lack of air.

Turning back to Vloros does not help me calm down in the slightest. His fist is tucked between his teeth and I can see he is having the time of his life with me on board. I am half tempted to show him how much relief I would gain by again reddening his cheek.

I shake my head. I think he had the point plainly given to him back at Helsingborg what kind of smack I can deliver with a shield in hand. For that memory, I can at least smile a little and move on.

My icy-blues adjust to the new surroundings and I attempt to discern where we are. There is a coast to one side, but another on our other side. Are we up a river? Why have we traveled a coast and entered inland? How is this taking us to Aland?

"Vloros, you said we are going to-," I was going to remind him while finishing my scan, but settling back on him alarmed me. He's apparently stood and turned away from me. In the time I had concluded the where-abouts, he must have finished his business, and turned back to address me with a smile of satisfaction.

I take a single step to him and push. He lets out a cry and falls off into the river. The crew went silent as this happened and I hear the other two ships shout something between each other down the line.

Then I hear this very familiar vehemently cursing male voice traveling up the side of the ship. This time was my time to laugh. I really hope that he landed in a nice warm spot in the river...

When we set to land along the coast to rescue our water bobbing Lord, all the crew jumped ship. This was odd for me for a couple of reasons. 

One, normally there should always be a couple of people to stand on the ship for a vantage point. In this case, I don't know where we are and there could be any form of enemy watching us right now. Especially if we were following the Swedish coast which in this case could be Smaland by judge of being a day out from Skane.

Second, there is more dangers than people for these three ships. If they ended up setting them in a bog, they could sink into the mud and cause quite a surprise if we wanted to depart in a hurry.

Third, if there is ever the chance that we don't find our way back, it only takes one man's voice to recall us to his location, and we'd be back in business.

Instead, we are leaving the ships. Livs are not known for their seafaring for a reason, I suppose.

I see that my husband drying of his prized gear before he addresses me. "Next time, you take a bath in the river and see how you like it." I give him a familiar response by shrugging. He doesn't take the bite and continues to run a dry-rag over the rest of his naked flesh.

I take the time to stand back and admire the show. He's been working on the important parts already, I see. So now he's down below his abs, forming circles and parallels up and down that awesome V-section, and then comes up the formed column of his firm stomach.

My lips spread into a smile for a second at just watching him run his hands over that body. Then I realize what it is I am doing and turn away. It felt exciting to watch and I really desired to turn back for another look, but I simply could not. Even if I am a woman and have to live like this, why would I purposefully seek to develop those feminine traits further than they already are?

For now, I walk away before my confused mind decides to test me anymore. I catch one of the crew using an oar to push over a fallen log of a tree. For a moment, I'm not sure why he is doing that until I see another man nearby give him a nod.

He lifts the log up a bit, then I see the other man swing a club down onto something beneath before pulling out a long slithering body. They lay it over the log and smash the head in twice more until the mouth is at least beyond looking like such. One of them looks to me.

"Head will bite even if cut off," he informs me before the body is thrust into a bag.

"Why are you collecting them?" That did seem odd to me.

"The body won't stop moving for awhile. We don't want to step on them, but not alert anything else we've been here."

"Then explain leaving the ships where they are," I hope that one can be answered.

"Bait," he simply states.

"Wait, you don't want the snakes to give us away, but the ships are going to tell everyone somebody is here. How does that make sense?" I have to figure this one out.

"If they send someone to inspect and see that the ships are empty with no signs of activity, they will believe we ran off in a hurry," he elaborates.

"In other words, they'll think we are inexperienced and either unprepared or over confident since we just arrived," I piece it together. Question now is, how do we take advantage of that kind of thought? I don't want to ask if we actually do know who is here. I'm sure they do. I hope.

Behind me, I hear Vloros come up and ask, "Did you bring it down?"

The other man, the one who was holding the oar, gives my husband a nod. "I saw Dzim bring it around and he's been holding onto it for you." I'm a little curious what this 'IT' is.

I follow after Vloros to see where he is heading. There is Dzim and he's holding a very familiar weapon. That ballistic equipment that had been pointing down at me when all of us first met.

"Could you tell me what that is?" I ask Vloros.

"Vaidelots, the messenger of the Gods," he grins at me as he walks over to retrieve the weapon. He lowers the bow down to his feet and steps on some kind of flap at the bottom tip. From his waist, he begins to crank on either side, the tight ropes constricting around each other tighter and tighter, and then he would adjust the cranks up a set of rungs. This relieves the stress before lifting further distance from his planted foot with notches in the belly of the stock. That alone took many more minutes per notch to just prepare this ballistic weapon.

Each time he did this, I watch his muscled chest and shoulders jump and ripple alive. Now I know where he was getting that physique from. His legs were doing all they could to hold this beastly machine down. What kind of firepower was this thing capable of? For that matter, what did it shoot? I didn't see any kind of quiver when he was hoisting it before.

Under the overly thick-matter of minutes, he manages to finish the exercise of gripping the taut string up to be hooked in the rear. I shudder to think of anyone who accidentally got in the way of that thing when it let loose. That thing is impractical and I wonder if it is of a Greek design.

"Time to go," I hear Valdis say this rather than Vloros. That I thought was odd. I had expected the Commander to be the one to give the orders. Maybe it worked differently on land and the roles are reversed?

We make a quick march through the tall grass and hanging trees until a number of us settle down. I'm not sure why we picked this place until a detachment goes another direction and another in the opposing one. Then I can pick out that they split from their own diverted paths as well.

"Are we searching for something?" I ask Vloros.

"If a smaller party finds a small party, they won't run, but a bigger party will always make the smaller one find more smaller ones instead." This sounded like a poor attempt at a riddle. So, if we are large, no one will attack us. If we split up, we make ourselves easier targets.

"Why would we do this?" This is not something I would do.

"Watch and you might learn a trick," I roll my eyes at my husband's suggestion. I am so done with Tricksters. I might have said something else, but I hear men shouting in challenge.

Lifting my head gets me yanked down. I didn't think that something would fly my way, so I thought it would be safe, but I guess we are trying to hide. There needs to be better communication with those who are not used to these tactics.

The party that ended up getting challenged runs for the ships. They are closely followed by a number of other men. I watch our pursued Livs climb up and roll over onto the Black Snake. Those that had followed halt their chase in front of the ships, look around quickly, and then run like Hell the way they came.

That is when our larger group begins to move and I tag along. I look over my shoulder and see that the Livs that climbed on board the ship are staying. I guess I was wrong about their care-taking. They play this like drawing straws.

I soon find out another trick to their methods. They scare the scurrying mice back to their hidden holes to loot it in one fell swoop. We catch the signs of smoke in the distance and now know where their homes are.

Taking this into account, I keep an eye on Vloros and that weapon. I still have no clue what he is going to do with it with nothing to project.

After we clear the grass and trees, we see the enclosed village for the first time. There is a gate closing in front of the men who ran from our lot. A shield wall is presented in front of the gate and a variety of weapons ready to be thrown our way before we can close the distance.

Our Livs run to the front and set up a series of shields, one row on the bottom, another on top of that, and a third over the two. Then a couple of men from within the reinforced shield-wall set a bunch of long rods down on the ground. Honestly, I thought they were javelins.

As I hear the Liv shield being struck by heavy weights of ax, the thud of a spear, or pepper of rocks; Vloros sets one of those rods onto Vaidelots and loads it until clipped in. Two of the shields open up in the middle and he aims the weapon quickly.

I hear a thrumming noise that sends me back to the traumatic memory of storming the beach at Varna. My shoulder immediately aches. I watch with horrific fascination as the javelin-bolt impales a man on the gate and a scream echoes from the other side of the barrier.

Either that thing pierced through and hit someone or there was somebody scared shitless at the gate getting buggered. My mind is made up. Never get in front of that thing ever again.

Vloros goes back to work on cranking the weapon with apparently no intended hurry. I suppose he doesn't have to rush things. Those in this community are closed in and are awaiting for us to go away.

If they intended to drive us away, they would have met us fairly here with their own men or have begun to send things flying over the wall at us, or at the least have a back to slip out and circle us. This type of wall isn't the kind that people could stand on. More of a palisade. Maybe this is an upgrading village?

Once again, when the weapon is loaded I just watch. This time, one of the men brings his shield around to hold in front of him. It does nothing. The javelin-bolt flies out from the shield-wall and pierces the shield, man, and tacks him to the closed gate behind him.

There is yet another scream and it is added by shouting on the other side. After a few moments, Vloros cranking again, we watch the gate slowly being pried open. Are they trying to bring their scouting party in?

I hear their voices and can pick out the bits and pieces of Swedish, but my blood runs cold at the accent. Gute. I round on Vloros, "We are in fucking Gotland!?"

He is in mid-crank, looks at me, and mutters in one word, "Kind'ahbus'eyhere'er." Holy Mother of God! We are in Gotland. I hope to Dear Jesus Christ and the All Mighty that we did not just pick a fight with Visborg.

"What is the plan here? Are we just pinning their gate with men or is there more going on?" I ask this as polite as possible.

Valdis is the one who informs me, "Dzim is taking care of things around back."

"How many did he take?" I see around us that this is pretty much our crew of all three ships.

"Just him." I stare at Valdis for a moment like he said something crazy. He did say something crazy.

"Just him?" He nods and turns away like establishing the fact it is Dzim settles the matter. I am shaking my head at a loss while turning back to watch the gored people pile up on the gate before they manage to slip.

As the gate closes, there are more shouts being heard from within and the smoke from their side appears thicker. I recall how Dzim climbed the ship out at sea. That manages to get an image of him easily jumping these dry walls. It wouldn't be hard to use the long grass and branches to create some kindling in there.

If they let the fire burn, the town falls, but if they keep putting out where ever that spider-monkey sets it aflame; They'll be smoked out.

All he needed was a single torch, pit, or furnace to make it glow hot and mold the town however he willed it. With the townspeople busy with this fire, I see our shield-wall break and march quickly forward.

One of the shields is slipped over top the other, reinforced again by another pair, onto two of the pierced bodies until stable. The ballistic weapon is handed up and held while Vloros is given a hand. The two men hold onto the sides of the shields while at the top of the wall their Lord's back bunches and legs bulge from balancing himself while lifting the 'Messenger of the Gods.'

Vloros lifts himself up and aims down Vaidelots into the crowds of townspeople. I hear his voice ring, "Guten Tag!" Out comes his demands and for their representative to present themselves. In short order, he gets them to cooperate with him before he even begins threatening their lives by skewering them together like a Seekh dish.

Within the hour, I am amazed at how well we took this town. It is small and maybe not considered a town by some, but the utility that they have available gives me the sign that they pass as one. I'll keep this day in my mind as a miracle. Not one Liv died and very few of the enemy before their surrender.

There is a lot of searching going around. Of course, goods are taken and piled into the bags that originally housed the dead critters around our ships. Then there seems to be even more exchanges when it involves those representing the town.

Vloros comes over to me and shakes his head. "I have very bad news." I feel the side of my cheek tense and my jaw clench. I really am not going to hear what I think he is going to say, am I? "No soap."

My eyes flutter a few times as I look away from him. He did this risky adventure for soap? Our lives were at a potential mercy if we had picked Visborg by mistake? What these people call this place, Tjalver? I didn't realize I had let out a shuddering breath until it wisps its last past my lips.

A hand gives my shoulder a shake and I turn back to Vloros grinning at me. "You are too easy," I hear him state and then laugh before walking away. He's messing with me!? I take a few strides behind him and cuff him in the ear.

I hear his curse and lower his head with hunched shoulders. Instead of facing me, he starts running off towards the nearest shelter and I run after him. If he had picked a further hovel to dive into, I'd catch him on the open field, but instead he catches me in surprise by pulling me off to the side in this little entrance.

Laughing, he lunges the both of us around in the room until we make landfall into one of the townsfolk's beds. He's on top of me and the weight of his dense figure prevents me from struggling hard enough to be free.

His laughter keeps up until his lips levels with mine. I keep a little fight in me for a moment more before his hands get a grip onto my wrists. The kiss breaks and he stares at me for a second before mentioning, "Hear I thought we were past this," he looks away for a split-second and back down at me, "Or maybe you enjoy being held by me?"

I don't get the opportunity to retort as his lips tend to shut me up as usual. There has to be some way to get him to relax and back off so I won't be sore every God damn day down there.

For once, he seems to actually break from me entirely. He sits up and lets me gasp in some air while he speaks again. "We need to move before-," he clips his sentence and resumes with talking about something else, "I'm moving the schedule up early."

I look down at him as I stand while still out of breath from our kiss. I take one gulp of air and then ask almost-breathlessly, "Schedule?"

"The war," he states. "We are already leaving now, but they know who attacked them." I'm a little confused. The Swedish people and Livonia are already at war. What is he talking about?

"I'm sorry," I shake my head and admit, "I really don't understand."

There is a grin on his face as he helps me up, "Don't worry about it. You'll be safe with me back home." I walk out with him while wondering what in the world is this new riddle.

I take a look around to see if there is some clear identifier that makes it out who attacked. All I see are the burnt hovels, those folk who are tending to the few impaled dead, a trail of our march out of here, and the bloody punctures on the inside of their gate.

Sweeping around again, I finally take note of one thing. Every one of these townsfolk is looking up at me. Suddenly, I am reminded of Varna again.

"Vloros, you didn't tell them I did this... Did you?" I ask my husband who either didn't hear me or is ignoring my question. "Vloros? Vloros!?" I reach a hand around to his far shoulder and step in front of him. "Please tell me you didn't."

He looks up at me and nods, "I did," then grabs both of my hands and immediately walks a bit faster out the front.

Now I am scared, angry, and confused. Why? Why did he do this? "Vloros, why?"

"Your family owed me," his copper eyes lock with mine, "and now we are even."

"Visborg will send for Svitjod, first thing, and tell them Danes have attacked. My home, they won't know that there will be a whole army on top of them." The vision of Helsingborg in fiery ruins pops in my head.

For a second, I recount all those that would answer the call to this new southern threat. The Small Land, called Smaland funnily enough, would be eager to be the first to make their territory grow further until reaching the southern coasts of Skane. All because they sit right on top of my family's northern border. The Smalander, Njudunge of Kalmerhus in More has been waiting for an excuse.

There is the Western Good Land, once again called Vestergutland, that could send trickles of aid to assist, but they would be busy handling the threats of Ostlandet. Jarl Gautske of Lacko would be reluctant, but willing.

Eastern Good Land, called Ostergutland, would be braying and ready for someplace to let their blades thirst. They have been disappointed with the Lappish in the north being too sparse. Jarl Ulfing in Tornsfall would be finding any challenge to only leave Tjust behind.

The Warmer Lands, Vermaland it is called, is a home to mostly traders. They would be interested in funding and investing into the expeditions, but Jarl Vase wouldn't be willing to leave his great hall in Saxholm unless it became stuffy. Even then, he'd just fit himself into another one of his halls.

Svitjod, the very epicenter of the Swedish people. Their High Jarl Munso would call upon all of his subjugated territories and those who swear to obey so long he reaches out to protect their interests. The lands that he encompasses far exceed Denmark and are only starting to feel the pressure from their west by Ostlandet and its allies. Divided jarls, united for a single purpose; Borgholm in Oland, Goksholm in Nerike, Selanger in Medelpad, Bjartra in Angermanland, Visborg in Gotland...

Fingers snap in front of my icy-blue eyes and I flinch. I see Vloros squint at me. His fiery-brown brows knit together and he shake his head in bewilderment. "Wait, why would they do that?"

It takes a moment to get back with it, "Because you told them my name! That I did this!"

He grins again and makes a, "Ah, I see," and taps his forehead against my shoulder. "You need to forget." The hell is that suppose to mean? "You belong to me, not them."

"Vloros! My family, my ho-," he interrupts me by yanking on my wrists and tightening his grip.

"I said forget," he relaxes his grip a little and sighs. His eyes never broke from mine and it seemed he was thinking about something important. "You can be thick, you know that, and yet brilliant. Like a torch. Only good when someone lights it on fire and only useful in their hands. A torch doesn't light itself on fire to see... Clearly." He makes that last sad note be directed at me like it meant something more than my intelligence. Maybe my lack of perception?

Right now, I don't care how he insults me. I can only think about those I left behind. The entire town that I had last seen before taking my steps onto his ship. The smiles on all of those faces of my family. My father who last smiled upon me before this marriage took place.

Vloros's hand slips the print of his thumb beneath my eyes to clear the streaming of my tears. He bites on his lower lip and nods at me, "I'm sorry." He turns towards the ship and pulls me along.

I remember. I remember what the Shade Tiresias said last. There was nothing I could do about my destiny now, but the later half could be helped. I've unintentionally sealed the fate of my home. Does this mean the vision of my dismemberment will come to pass too? Tiresias? Where are you? 

I mouth a silent plea, "Please, help me..."