Blood & Fire

Chapter One | Smoke & Bones

           

Meryna blinked her eyes feverishly, her vision blurry. She strained to make out what was beside her.

When the lifeless corpse of her Lady's maid came into focus, she scrambled to separate herself from her. Meryna winced as her back struck against a wooden wheel. It spun in the air, the cart it was attached to partially overturned on its side. Meryna did not remember taking shelter under the weathered wagon.

What she did remember was running with Ane at her side, like death itself was at their heels.

Ane was not just a lifelong servant to Meryna, but a close friend. Blood dripped from Ane's mouth into the ground. Her unblinking eyes staring into Meryna's. With shaking hands, Meryna reached out to her dear friend. Running her fingertips along her face she closed Ane's eyes shut forever.

The putrid smell of death singed her nostrils causing a wave of nausea to course through her. Meryna gagged, clutching her stomach. She spit the mixture of soil and blood from her mouth into the dirt in front of her. A sharp ringing pulsated in her ears, making her head spin. She tried to lift herself up from the ground and wondered how she had gotten there.

She shut her eyes closed tightly. Then, widening them, she hoped to recover her fractured vision. With two hands cupping her ears, she began to make sense of the madness around her.

Swords clashing against metal.

Women screaming.

Babes crying.

Flames engulfed the surrounding huts around her Father's fortress. The smoke billowed towards the sky and charred the inside of her lungs. She tried to stand.

Where was her mother?

She limped shakily, unsure of what she was searching for. Her head pounded raggedly. She touched the side of her temple. It was oozing warm blood. Meryna winced at the contact, then examined her bloodied fingertips.

An armored body fell to the ground just feet away from her. She recognized him as one of her father's oath-men. He frantically raised his arms to block the Viking steel that aimed towards his heart. The long Nordic blade pierced through his body armor like a knife through butter. Blood splattered and pooled around his limp body.

Meryna gasped in horror. The Viking warrior looked up from his helpless kill, his deep-set eyes latching on to her. He wiped at his blood painted cheek before lunging after the Lady. Meryna staggered away from him as fast as her legs would allow.

She was no match for his speed and his hulking arms swallowed her frame whole.

"What do we have here?" His low and growling voice scratched at her ears.

She recognized the language. It was Old Norse. As a woman of high station, the daughter of a Laird, Meryna had received an extensive education. The one subject she excelled at above all the rest was her language studies. Meryna clawed her fingernails into his thick bulging arms, desperately trying to free herself from his hold.

He backed her against the wagon she had woken up underneath. She strained against his hands as he pinned both her wrists to her sides.

"I love the ones who put up a fight," He growled, his pupils dilating with lust as his black eyes skimmed her appealing figure.

Releasing one of her arms, he reached down, feverishly yanking up the embroidered hem of her blue skirt. Meryna did not hesitate, seized the moment, and struck him with all the strength she could muster. The Viking merely recaptured her throbbing wrist, pulling it close to his bearded face. The blow had no effect on him, but Meryna could feel the aching pang settling into her hand from striking his stone-like cheek.

"Did you mean to hurt me? I'll teach you a lesson in pain."

He thrust her around, slamming her stomach against the splintering wood. She released a reluctant groan through clenched teeth. Her attacker hiked her skirt up once again, exposing her bottom. He adjusted the front of his trousers.

Pulling her hair tightly, he jerked her neck to the left. Her cheek skimmed the prickling wooden edge. Her fiery curls, something he had seldom seen before, excited him. Her vision focused on a figure in her view, anything to distract from what was happening to her now.

The tall brutish warrior slashed his latest victim, kicking him to the ground to dislodge his sword from within the man's ribs. His eyes caught hers watching him. Something flashed across his blue irises. Without looking to his side, he quickly blocked an advancing soldier, slicing his stomach open with a skilled flick of his wrist.

He marched toward her. Meryna felt both fear and a flicker of hope fill her as he glanced at her through the braided locks that framed his sweaty face.

"Vidar," He howled, clamping onto his older brother's shoulder. Rorik pulled Vidar off of the nearly tarnished young maiden.

"Put your prick away! If Eydis sees you she'll take her battle ax to it..."

He shoved at him, sending Vidar stumbling back a few steps. Vidar snarled his lip curling upward toward the side of his nose. Then, he lunged forward, aiming at his little brother's knees. They collided with each other as they both hit the dirt.

Meryna quickly adjusted her skirt, as she trudged away from the brawling brothers. She searched around her frantically, looking for any source of refuge. Bodies covered the ground, their blood soaking the grass a deep red. She recognized almost all of these faces, but she had to push those thoughts out of her mind now.

She would grieve later, but now she had to survive.

She aimed her unsteady feet towards the line of trees several yards away. If she could just get some cover, she knew she'd make it out of this ambush alive. Then, she would find her family and together they would form a strategy to protect their clansmen and refortify their castle.

When she woke up that morning she had never imagined her day would be anything like this. They had arrived out of nowhere, without a warning. The woods drew closer, spurring her on.

She could almost taste her freedom. It was within her grasp. Meryna was escaping the chaos and bloodshed ravaging her home.

Her footsteps halted. She gulped down the bitter taste of fear that foamed in her mouth. A giant of a man blocked her. It was so sudden, she had barely noticed him before she ran into his armored chest. She flew backward from the impact.

Through squinted eyes, she could barely make out the older Viking straddling his thick leather-clad thighs over her crumpled body. His head was shaved on the sides, a thick braid traveling from the center of his scalp down past his shoulders. He had a scraggly brown beard, with specks of grey, braided in a similar fashion. The ragged scar traveling down his right cheek was his most defining feature. A coat of blue paint running across his face in horizontal stripes, caked over it.

Her head began to throb. It felt as if the brute warrior in front of her was attacking her head with daggers. Her eyesight was dimming. Meryna clutched her head. She tried to fight it, scolding herself to focus and evade the Viking above her. The last thing she remembered, before losing consciousness again, was him bending down to pick her up, then hoisting her motionless body over his shoulder.