Eric glanced down and saw Leif’s ax slicing toward him. He lifted his shield to deflect the blow, and the metal sank into the wood. With a swift pull, Leif jerked the shield off his arm, leaving him defenseless.
The man’s eyes were wild with battle fever, a thin smile on his face. He believed he could not fail in this.
Eric’s anger intensified until it consumed him. He blamed himself for not striking sooner. And when the battle madness swept over him, he gave in to instinct, wielding his sword against Leif. The weapon was heavy, but he held it steady, releasing his hold upon Arik Thorgrim’s memories. The knowledge poured through him, and he let go of all control, surrendering to the darkness inside him. No longer did he fight by the rules of Regency gentlemen—he gave in to Viking instincts.
His muscles flexed and he slashed, over and over, seeking a weakness within his enemy. Leif’s brutal strength required Eric to be much faster, and he sidestepped the fire, pouring himself into the fight.
The burn of exertion weighed upon him, but he ignored it. He had sworn to protect Katarina, and he would not fail in this. With a swift lunge, he stabbed his blade toward Leif’s side, but the man deflected it with his battle-ax.
The men were watching the fight, none of them daring to interfere. He could feel Valdr’s assessing gaze upon him, and Eric continued to push harder.
“When you die, I will becomejarl,” Leif insisted. His voice was filled with the madness of a man who believed himself invincible.
But words were another kind of weapon. And Eric wielded them without mercy, striking out at the man’s pride. “These men would never choose you as a leader. Not when you have proven yourself to be a murderer.” He kept his sword in one hand and unsheathed his own battle-ax with the other. Over and over, he lunged at the man, until Valdr stepped in.
The Viking leader’s interference was unexpected, and with a wooden shield, Leif backhanded Valdr, sending the old man to the ground. He lifted his battle-ax, ready to strike the killing blow, when the world seemed to slow.
“No!” The word ripped from his throat, and in Valdr’s place, Eric saw his own father. The two men’s lives appeared transposed, and in that frozen moment of time, Eric felt the sense of remorse. He had been selfish, ignoring his responsibilities in his own search for adventure. His father had remained at home, alone and worried about his only son.
Valdr had proven himself willing to sacrifice his life to save him. And Eric was not even Valdr’s trueborn heir.
Before Leif could bury his ax in Valdr’s flesh, he saw a glimpse of his father within the Viking man’s visage. It was the kindly smile of a man who had loved him more than life itself. He knew with a certainty that he would never see Gregory again. He would never feel his father’s arms around him or hear the man’s voice.
“I am sorry,” Eric whispered. “Forgive me.” He wished to God that he could see his father one last time, to speak the words he’d never said.
Instinctively, Eric dove forward, using his own body to shield Valdr’s. And when the battle-ax cut into his spine, a flash of lightning split the sky in two.
Agonizing pain burned through him, and he gasped for air. He heard a woman scream, and Katarina rushed forward. Thank God she was all right. He felt his energy slipping away while his blood soaked the earth.
But this wasn’t over yet.
Eric knew he was dying. Before he took his last breath, he intended to finish this. His hand closed around the blade at his belt, and he met Katarina’s gaze. Her blue eyes were stricken with grief, but she gave him a nod to show she understood.
Leif’s shadow fell across him as he reached for his battle-ax. In one motion, Eric used the last of his strength and embedded the dagger in his enemy’s heart.
A look of shock washed over the man, and he stumbled backward. Katarina moved toward Eric, gripping his bloodstained hands. Within moments, Leif fell to the ground, and a scream tore from him as he fell into the fire. The flames caught his clothing, and within moments, he was dead.
The world was fading, and Eric understood that he had only a little time left. Katarina was beside him, tears falling over her cheeks.
“Eric,” she wept, clinging to him. “Stay with me. Please.”
He tried to speak, wishing he could tell her how much he wanted to. How beautiful she was and how he had been honored to be her husband, even if only for a little while.
He laced his fingers with hers, and murmured, “I am glad I married you, Katarina.” His voice caught, and he said, “I only wish we had more time.”
No longer could he feel his body, and the world around him shifted and drifted away.
And when he saw the ghost of his father standing in the distance with an outstretched hand, Eric went to him.
