Unholy Confessions ~ Sihtric Kjartansson

Uno/one

Ambivalenlce/am-biv-uh-lence.
The act of being uncertain or stuck between two or more options.

The only thing Torvi liked more than the battlefield was the feeling of the early morning breeze one her face, the sent of drew around her and the grass beneath her fingertips. It brought her some peace in times of war, and it was one of the few moments in her day that she let her bow and dagger slip from her fingers.

"I thought I would find you here," Torvi didn't open her eyes, hearing the grass shift as someone sat down beside her, blocking the sun from her face. "I was starting to wonder where you had gone."

"Never far, father," Torvi replied, before opening one eye lazily and pushing herself up onto her elbows. "Why did you need me."

"Do I need an excuse to see my daughter?" Torvi raised her eyebrows, watching her father laugh to himself.

Her father, Ólaf, was tall man, Broad as a bear but with half as many teeth and twice as many scars. Luckily, Torvi has managed to keep all her teeth in her mouth, and her scars were not as plentiful.

"No, I wanted you back at the hall, girl." Torvi sighed, as her father hauled her up to her feet. "Can you try to get the grass and dirt from your hair out."

"My hair cooperates with no one, not even me." Her sighed once more, as Torvi chuckled, picking up her bow and quiver back up, along with her dagger. "And why I must be presentable?" Most of those around here have seen me with blood and mud coating my entire body. "It does not matter to them no more whether I am presentable."

"Because, girl, we have guests," the main gates of their home were open, allowing for the pair to stroll in with little to no hindrance from others, guards waving and bowing their heads. "You will listen and then come up with your decision, just as I will and we shall see who is the best."

"It'll be mine, Torvi grinned, shaking her hair out as she picked a few sticks from her brunette curls that sat as an unruly halo around her head. "I have more of a brain than you do father."

"My daughter, the rudest of them all," he gave her a good nature shove as Torvi almost went flying into a pie of horse shit, her laughter echoing.

"Ólaf!" The pair stopped at the harsh glare coming from Torvi's mother, Aoife. "Do not torment girl, she can not help that she speaks the truth."

"Who comes to visit?" Torvi stumbled to  her feet, standing in between her parents as she watched them. "Rarely anyone comes to visit us. We are the last earldom before the Scots."

"Southern's," the family chuckled, the doors to the hall already opened for them. "He says he is from one of the Southern Kingdoms with news and a request."

"We should have just turned him away," Torvi snorted at her mother's words, quickly composing herself as she sat down in one of the seats next to the right next to her father.

"Now, now, we will be friendly. He is a guest. Let him in," a tall man walked in, an eye patch over one eye and filthy blond hair that looked wore then Torvi's. She narrowed her eyes, unsure of him already. "Speak, and let us hear what you have to say."

"My name is Sven Kjartansson and I come with a message from my father, Kjartan,"

"I am going to retire to my bed now, father," Torvi called, starting up the wooden steps to the top of the hall, "Good night."

"Good night," she nodded at her parents words, knowing that they were engrossed by Kjartan's offer. The family rejected it in the end, knowing it was a bad offer that would not suit their lands well and Torvi had never been so pleased to see the back of someone as they rode off.

A draft blew in from the cracks in the wall, as Torvi pulled her dress off and threw it in the trunk, before replacing her arm bands and rings back onto her arm. She always kept them on, sleeping with them to make sure that no one could come and take them from her arms.

The furs were welcome, warm and snug, as Torvi eyes fluttered closed and she sank into a deep sleep, the smell of ale, meat and smoke surrounding her. The smell of home.

"Torvi! Torvi!" The woman woke, seemingly moments later, to her mother shaking her. The teenager opened her eyes, coughing at the smell of smoke. "We have to go."

"What?"

"We have to go, Torvi get up!" Torvi stumbled to her feet, coughing and grabbing her weapons as she followed her mother out to the back of the hall, where a window to the stables.

"Where's father."

"I do not know," Aoife threw the window open, the two women dropping down onto the stable roof.

"What happened."

"Men, Southerners," the pair spat, dropping down yet again until they could untie the fortress. "They came in the night, killed the guards, set fire to the place. Your father went out to fight them."

Death lingered in the air, bodies littered around as the two women sat on top on their horses.

"What do we do then?" Torvi called, urging her horse around, pulling a sword and a axe from the wood, where they had been embedded, sliding them into her saddle. "Where do we go."

"You are the heir to the estate, Torvi." The young adult nodded at her mother's words, "we must keep you alive, keep you safe. So we go south to offer our services to Guthred the supposed king."

"Saxon's?" Torvi hissed, urging her horse onwards as her mother kept pace with her. "Saxon's are no mor–"

"Enough, Torvi." They shot out of the fortress, trying their best to stay low and quiet. "The Dane slayer is with them, he is honorable, he will help."

"He kills his own people."

"He is loyal and a good warrior," Aoife hissed in return, the hooves of the horse pounding on the soil Beneth them. "We have to–"

She stopped and Torvi turned around, her eyes wide as she saw an arrow sticking out of her mother's stomach. The woman falling from her horse and slamming onto the ground.

"Mother!" Torvi wheeled round, before catching sight of the army of Danes behind them. She could make out the one-eyed Sven, flames lighting up his face. There were to many to fight. "Mother!".

"Go-" Aoife choked out, blood trickling from her mouth. "Go! Torvi, Go!"

The Danes began to advance, and Torvi shouted in pain, before urging her horse on and taking off south as fast as she could, without being struck down like her mother was. She didn't even wish to think about what happened to her father.

All Torvi knew was Kjartan had destroyed her family and family home, Torvi would get revenge. They would rue the day that they ever harmed her family.

A/N: The cover does not belong to me I found it on Pinterest credits @ethanbellamy_.

Hope you guys will enjoy this book as I will ❤️

1236 words