“I shall speak with my husband about providing each and every one of you with your own concealable dagger,” she said as they left the hall.
Ja, she was pleased with herself, to be sure. Somehow she would carve a life here and make this work, for her own sake as well as the women here. They needed someone to speak for them and to help them speak for themselves. There were still a precious few among the ranks who glared at her and she would accept that, regardless of her heritage, that might happen anyway.
Her new friend had long since retired to her chamber for an afternoon respite and so Saga now found herself alone in the hall. The clang of metal on metal still sounded from the bailey and so she decided to take this time to work on her own training.
Scanning the wall of weapons she realized that a lot of these were not practical, where were the long bows? Where were the daggers and short swords? For surely it was not practical for a castle’s arms to be displayed on the wall. Nay, this must be for decoration. There must be an arms house somewhere close-by.
Saga finished scanning the walls and turned at a noise near the entrance to the hall. A slight flick of movement caught her attention and she froze. She wasn’t alone. Reaching behind her she grabbed a spear from the wall and held it at the ready, never taking her eyes from the entrance.
The doors opened out, which, apparently, was the way of it here; in case of attack, it was harder to open a barred door with this orientation working against itself. And so the only thing on the wall with which a person could conceal themselves was the tapestries.
Saga approached with caution as she continued to scan the hall. With the spear she quietly lifted each end to ensure no one hid behind. And on to the next one she went until she was about twenty paces from the door and the entire right side of the hall had been cleared, including the hearth.
“You cannot best me one on one so you find solace in cowardice and hiding. Is that who I battle right now?” she asked hoping the taunt would draw out the person.
Saga swirled her spear around her head and repositioned it under her arm whilst drawing her dagger from her girdle.
“Come and show me how you can best me,” she said.
Movement from behind her drew her attention back to the hearth and that’s when she realized her grave mistake. She had not been seeking one attacker, but two.
As soon as she made this conclusion something pinched her neck. She dropped the spear and pulled the stick from her neck but kept a grip on her dagger. By Thor she would not go down without a fight.
“So you need to drug me to be brave enough to fight me, is that it? You are the worst cowards I have ever met,” she said, her vision blurring.
“You cannot best me either way!” As she said this she swung her hand wide. A blurry image of a hooded figure appeared in front of her. She lurched forward and slashed at the air.
“You should have never come here,” the muted voice said from behind her before kicking her in the back.
Dazed and stunned from whatever was on the tip on the stick, she stumbled but planted her feet more solidly on the ground.
“You had better stay back there,” she said. “I will spill your guts where you stand if you come closer.”
Try as she might to keep her head clear, Saga was losing hold on her consciousness. The figure in front of her was nowhere near as tall as she—the assassin was a woman. Saga knew a thing or two about fighting whilst having consumed too much ale and also assumed she did not have much time left before she succumbed to the drug entirely.
She turned to face the one behind her all the while keeping her focus on the one in front. They acted as she predicted. Their training was for stealth and not for one-on-one combat. They were waiting for her to fall so they could report their mission as successful. But not today.
Saga dropped into a squat and stuck out one long leg to sweep and trip the assailant behind her and turned to lurch for the one in front. She tackled her to the ground and pulled off her mask before rolling so that any attack from the other one would be shielded by her partner.
She’d been accurate in her assessment of these two. But the blade that ripped through the attacker on top went all the way through and into her body. Just enough for it to burn.
“No!” a voice shouted from the doorway.
A loud thunk was followed by the woman being pulled from Saga’s body and in turn the blade pulled from her chest. She prayed to Odin it had not landed deep, but if this was her time for the Valkyries to carry her off to Valhalla then, by Freya, she was ready. She’d fought off these two assassins with skill and honour and she deserved her place at the feast.
“Saga, stay with me,” the voice said.
She opened her eyes and smiled, or tried to smile, at Giric. He was so handsome. She reached her hand up to touch his face and realized it was covered in blood. Whose blood? Hers or the assassin’s? Did it matter?
“You are so good,” she said to him.
“Shhh, love. You will be fine. I will take good care of you.”
A scream was followed by a scurry of activity.
“Get my brother,” Giric shouted to someone.
Many voices surrounded her then. Too many faces for her to count. Some seemed there twice, but that was not possible. And where was Gunnar? She needed to see him. She wanted his blessing as she flew with the Valkyries.
