Lord of Hawkfell Island (Viking Era 2)

She slowly turned to face him. Hafter stood at his right, his eyes on Entti.

“I knew,” Mirana said,

her voice dull, “I knew we wouldn’t trick you.”

“Ah, I knew as well that you wouldn’t dash off into the woods, not knowing where to go. You’re not a fool. And there are those men you and Entti wounded. It was well done of you, but again, I knew you wouldn’t leave because those men and their families just might be waiting for you. You did well, but you couldn’t escape me, Mirana. You will never escape me.”

Slowly, Mirana drew the knife. There were still flecks of Odom’s blood drying on it. “We’re leaving, Rorik. Entti! Come here and bring the food and water.”

Hafter looked at Mirana as if she were a fool. He grinned toward Entti and called out, “You don’t have to obey her any longer, sweeting. Be a good girl and come to me. I will take care of you. I won’t let her hurt you anymore. If she has promised you rewards to help her reach her brother, she is lying. Come, sweeting.”

Suddenly Entti looked perplexed, like a child who couldn’t understand why her parents were arguing. She looked from Mirana back to Hafter. He stretched out his hand to her. “Come, Entti, I’ll see that she doesn’t hurt you ever again. You can believe me, trust me.”

“All right,” Entti whispered. Only Mirana saw the glimmer of Hafter’s sword she’d slipped alongside her body, hidden in the folds of her gown. Hadn’t Hafter heard her speaking? Was he so caught in his belief of her as a sweet halfwit that he couldn’t grasp anything else?

Hafter was smiling at Entti and nodding, his expression gentle and reassuring, the look one would give to a slow child. But his stance was smug and confident. As for Rorik, he never looked away from Mirana’s face. She saw him begin to frown and wondered if he were beginning to doubt Entti.

She held herself perfectly still, as if deep in thought, waiting tense and anxious.

Suddenly, Rorik heard a choking yell. He whipped about to see Hafter falling slowly to his knees in the sand. He was clutching his head and he stared up at Entti, who stood over him, the sword handle extended.

“Don’t move, Hafter,” she said, this voice very different from the voice he knew. It was the voice he’d heard just before he and Rorik had come out to catch them, but then he’d thought he was mistaken, he’d thought . . . He wanted to vomit, from the blow and from his own stupidity.

Rorik yelled, “By Thor’s hammer, what is the meaning of this!” He took a step toward Hafter, then stopped in his tracks. He shook his head. “Never,” he said, looking from Entti to Mirana, “never again will I underestimate a woman. You are no simple female, are you, Entti? No sweet-faced child to warm a man’s bed and smile at his jests. You aren’t Mirana’s hostage and you never were. By all the gods, I was a fool to disbelieve what my good sense was screaming at me. I was a fool to disregard the very words I heard you speaking to Mirana, no witless child’s words they were.”

“Go away, Lord Rorik,” Mirana said, her voice cold as the night wind. “Go away. Hafter will be all right. Evidently Entti has some liking for him and thus didn’t kill him. Go away. I have no wish to hurt you and now it is the two of us against you. We will win, Rorik. Entti knows weapons as well as I do. Aye, she is vicious with that sword and she won’t hesitate to stick it through your belly. Do not forget the feel of my knife in your throat. I will do it again, only this time, your blood will spurt out onto the sand. Go away.”

She didn’t believe what she’d said for a single instant, but there was no hesitation, no uncertainty in her voice.

Rorik looked undecided. Had he believed her? She had sounded vicious, very sure of herself. Was it possible he was frightened of her? She had never seen this expression before and was instantly wary. No, she wouldn’t fall into his trap again. She would sooner trust Odom the bull. She took a step back from him, keeping the knife pointed out in front of her, aimed at his chest.

He sighed, then said, his hands splayed in front of him, “You plan to push both warships into the sea. What will I do? I have no wish to be stranded here. Those warships are valuable. They cost me much silver.”

“I am sorry, but you would follow us, and I cannot take the chance.”

“What if I swear to let you go,” he said very quietly, his eyes never leaving her face.

She stared at him, not knowing what was in his mind, but this man who sounded as if he were pleading, as if he were trying to bargain with her, she didn’t recognize. The Rorik she knew never bargained. He commanded, he ordered. He never gave an inch, never faltered or acted the supplicant. Something wasn’t right and she felt her belly knot and twist. She took another step away from him.

She shouted over her shoulder, “Entti, come here. Leave Hafter. You’ve downed him. Don’t worry about him now, he will survive the pain to his head.”

Entti, after one final look at Hafter, turned away to do Mirana’s bidding. Suddenly Hafter jerked upward and tackled her, slamming her facedown onto the sand, coming down hard on her back. He twisted the sword from her hand and flung it beyond her reach. She struggled wildly with him but it did no good. He was large and he was heavy and he simply lay flat on her, forcing her face into the wet sand.

As Mirana cried out, turning to run to help Entti, Rorik was on her, grabbing and twisting her wrist until he felt the bones twisting, ready to break beneath his strength. Still, she didn’t release the knife, if anything her fingers tightened around the ivory handle. He hardened his grip. He stared down at her face, saw her eyes nearly black with pain and determination.

“You cannot win now, Mirana, for I am the stronger. Surely you will realize that. I can tighten my hold and break every bone in your hand. Drop the knife, damn you. Drop it now.”

13

SHE COULD ONLY shake her head, biting her tongue to keep from screaming. He suddenly jerked her arm upward, changing his grip, two fingers pressing on the inside of her wrist. Her fingers went instantly numb and the knife dropped to the wet sand, making not a sound.

She kicked him, but he was fast, and her knee struck his thigh, which was pain enough. A soft keening noise was coming from deep in her throat. There was a sheen of blankness in her eyes, the vivid green dull and glazed. She fought him mindlessly now, and he knew he had to put a stop to it. Rorik knew she was out of control.

He struck her jaw hard and clean. She sighed softly and sagged against him.

He yelled over his shoulder, “Have you gotten Entti conquered, Hafter?”

“Aye, but she has broken my head, and all because I wanted to care for her. I just wanted to save her from Mirana’s folly. I will never understand a woman, Rorik.”