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Prologue

The air was sweet, and there was a gentle lapping sound as the water from the river flowed against the bank. It was crystal clear and sweet to drink. Occasionally a fish swam along; dark shadows could be seen underneath the surface of the water. Caoimhe Hamilton sighed as she watched them pass, often wondering what it would be like to simply swim away down the river. She tilted her head and followed the path of the river. She couldn't see it from here, but she knew that it wound all through the Highlands toward the shore, out into the open ocean, and from there to lands beyond. She had always been fascinated by the thought of this water being connected to that of the sea, for it made her feel part of a bigger world. Not that she would ever get to see any of it, though. Her place was in this small village where nothing much ever happened.

“Caoimhe, watch yerself!” a cry came out from beside her, and she looked down in panic. The garment she was washing, a long tunic, was being pulled away by the alluring current of the river. Her thoughts drifted idly, and she had lost her grip. With a yelp, she tightened her grip and lunged forward to prevent the tunic from being lost, soaking her arm in the process. She pulled it back but had moved so haphazardly that she was off balance and almost fell into the water had Elise not been there to pull her back. Caoimhe felt surprisingly strong arms wrapping around her waist, and then she collapsed on the mossy banks with the soaked tunic beside her.

She laughed.

“What are ye laughing for?” Elise scowled. “Ye need tae concentrate on what ye are daeing!”

“I know, I could hae lost this tunic, and Da would hae been angry,” Caoimhe said, giggling to herself.

“Aye, he would, and ye wouldnae hae been laughing then. He's been soft on ye since yer mither passed, gods rest her soul, but ye are a woman now, and ye cannae expect tae be treated like a wee lass.”

“I know,” Caoimhe sighed. She sat up and shook her arm. Droplets of water trickled off and rained down on the ground beside her. She ran a hand through her auburn hair, pushing aside a few errant strands of hair that had escaped the tightly braided ponytail. Her skin was soft, her eyes the color of nature—dark green with flecks of brown—and she was just as lovely as nature too, as all the men of the village would attest.

“It was just a wee mistake.”

“Aye, ye were thinking again, weren't ye? That's yer problem, Caoimhe. Ye are always thinking.” Elise shook her head as she went back to cleaning her own garments. Elise was older and had become a surrogate mother after Caoimhe's had sadly passed away. She was a kind woman, but she also had a certain way she thought life should be, and this didn't always mesh with how Caoimhe viewed the world, so they often clashed, but it was always good-natured, and there was never any enmity held for long.

“There's naething wrong with thinking,” Caoimhe replied, a little defensively.

“Aye, but ye need tae pay attention. I suppose I should nae be surprised. Yer sister was the same way.”

Caoimhe smiled when she thought of her sister. It had been a while since she had seen Kylie, and it left sorrow swimming in the pit of her heart.

“I miss her,” Caoimhe said.

“I'm sure she misses ye tae, but she haes tae leave. She was fortunate, catching the eye of a man like her husband.”

“Aye, fortunate indeed.” Caoimhe turned her head away. Of course, the main ambition any woman should have was to find a good husband to marry. That's what had been drilled into her ever since she was a young lass, but it had never felt right to her. Why should she be forced to tie her destiny to another man when there was so much else she wanted to do with her life? Why couldn't she just linger in nature and enjoy time spent frolicking in the forest and skipping around with all the animals? Nobody had ever given her a satisfactory answer when she had asked them that question. All they said was this is the way things were, and they seemed to think that was explanation enough.

Caoimhe didn't understand why nobody saw the world the same way she did, and there was a bitter feeling in her heart because she knew that one day she would have to leave all this behind. Until then, she was determined to keep the mindset she had always had and pretend that her life was completely her own.

“But I cannae leave just yet. Da wouldnae know what tae dae without me,” Caoimhe said.

“Ye can only use that excuse for sae long,” Elise said with a twinkle in her eye. “Ye would dae well tae make the most of yer youth while ye hae it. Soon enough, yer beauty will fade, and fewer men will look at ye. Mark my words, lass, ye dinnae want tae wait tae long.”

Caoimhe pressed her lips together and frowned, annoyed because she knew deep in her heart that Elise was right, even though she hated to admit it to herself.

She pulled another item of clothing out of the basket and placed it in the river, letter the water wash over the clothes and her hands. She was only twenty summers, but the older she grew, the more the years seemed to slip by with an increasing rhythm, and she was acutely aware that time would not always be on her side. Still, the thought of changing her life completely caused an uneasy feeling to swim through her soul. She pushed the thoughts aside as far as she could and tried to focus on the things around her, on the cool caress of the water and the breeze that rustled through the nearby canopy of trees. She comforted herself by thinking that at least nothing much happened around here, and since her father was the leader of the village, she had more liberty than other women her age. No, the days to come would pass like the days that had been, and for as long as she could, she would stay frozen in this chrysalis of youth.

Some time passed, and other women from the village arrived, either washing their clothes or bathing themselves. One of them had brought a young boy, who seemed to hate the very idea of being washed. He kicked and screamed as though he was being drowned, his cheeks were red, and squealing cries burst from his wide mouth. His mother fought against him. She cooed reassurance and made sure that he knew he wasn't in any danger, but the lad had worked himself up into such a state that he clearly wasn't listening. His limbs flailed about, and it was a wonder the mother didn't get hit in the face. Caoimhe wondered if one day she would have children. She wasn't entirely opposed to the idea. It was a natural thing, after all, but it still seemed like something that would happen a long time in the future, almost as though it was another life entirely. It would be nice, she supposed, but she wasn't ready yet.

Once she was done with her tasks, she looked up, not quite ready to return to the village yet. Through the trees, she spotted movement and was curious about what kind of animal approached. She imagined that it must have come here in search of water and been surprised to find the river busy with people going about their business.

She left the basket of clothes by the river and crept away, moving along the bank to follow this animal. Her footsteps were light, and her movements were graceful. She strained her ears to listen for the animal and followed its movements carefully until she came to a small copse of trees. She pressed herself against a tree, and her lips curled into a smile, for there was a deer standing on its thin legs. It wasn't yet fully grown, but nor was it a foal. Its antlers rose from its head like jagged branches, and there were dappled white spots upon its brown fur. Its eyes were wide and glassy, and its head was bent down as it grazed for food from the ground.

Caoimhe moved forward slowly, not wanting to make any sudden movements. Her father had taught this technique to her when she was younger. Since he did not have any sons, he had taught his daughters the art of hunting, although they were lessons that had not been put into use for their intended purpose. Caoimhe only used them to creep up on animals so that she could get a better look at them.

As she approached, she reached out and made a soft cooing noise to get the deer's attention. The deer raised its head and studied her with its dark eyes, assessing if she was a threat or not. Caoimhe opened her palms and wore a smile, hoping that somewhere in that animal brain of the deer, it would recognize her as a friend. He bowed his head and resumed eating, allowing Caoimhe to come close enough to touch. She pressed her palm against its neck and began stroking it softly, talking to it in low murmurs.

“Ye dinnae hae tae worry about getting married or anything like that, dae ye? All ye need is food tae eat and shelter from the rain. It must be nice tae hae such a simple life,” she said wistfully.

After stroking the deer for a few moments, it suddenly stiffened. Panic was in its eyes, and its ears pricked up like two towers. It whimpered, but there was nothing Caoimhe could do to calm it down. It turned and sprinted away at full speed, disappearing into the depths of the forest, although she had no idea what she had done to make it flee so abruptly.

It was with a sigh that she turned back and trudged toward the river, but the closer she got, the more she could hear some commotion. When she reached the edge of the trees, she gasped as she saw the women running away, trying to flee from strong men with red and gold hair, men who looked more like beasts.

Vikings.

The very word was enough to fill Caoimhe's heart with fear. Ice trickled down the back of her neck, and she trembled. They were the fiercest warriors in all the known world, and there was never any escape from them. She turned and fled, running through the trees to the village. If the Vikings were here, that could only mean one thing, and she worried fretfully for her father.

She ran so hard that her lungs burned, but she kept to the trees so that she was protected by their cover. She reached a point where she could see the village, and what she saw made her heart ache. These powerful Vikings were just as terrible as the stories had suggested. They came with their axes and their hammers, roaring in a language she did not understand. Their helmets gleamed in the sun, and their mighty arms were as thick as tree trunks. People were begging for mercy, but that made no difference. Caoimhe searched the scene for any sign of her father, but in the chaotic frenzy, she couldn't really make anything out. All she could see was destruction and death.

A part of her wanted to go and find him to make sure she was safe, but she saw how other women were being carried off unceremoniously to become unwilling Viking brides. She also remembered a piece of advice her father had given her a long time ago. He had taken her out for a walk, and she assumed that it was going to be another hunting lesson, but it was something else entirely.

“Ye are growing older now, Caoimhe, and that means ye need tae know about some dangers in the world,” he began in a grave voice. There was something about the way he spoke that made her realize, even at a young age, that she needed to listen. “There are people that call themselves Vikings. They come from a land far away, beyond the sea, and they're stronger than any other men in any other land. They are like a storm, and if they should ever darken our village, I want ye tae dae one thing and one thing only. I want ye tae run.”

Caoimhe protested, telling him that she wanted to help people or protect her village, but Cameron wasn't having any of it. He shook his head and looked at her sternly. He placed one hand on her shoulder and crouched so that he could meet her eyeline.

“Ye are a good lass, Caoimhe, but I need ye tae promise me that ye will dae this. I want ye tae run. Run as far as ye can because the Vikings will leave naething behind.”

“But ye will protect me, Da. Ye will protect us all,” Caoimhe had said. At the time, she still had the youthful naivete of believing that her father could shield her from anything, no matter how daunting or dire. It was at that moment that the first layer of her innocence had been stripped away, for Cameron admitted that the Vikings were too powerful even for him.

So now, when Caoimhe watched the Vikings pour through her village as relentless as the flow of the river, she fought her natural instincts to go and help. She had proof that her father could not defeat the Vikings, for he was being carried away as a prisoner. His hands were bound behind his back, and blood dripped from his mouth. Anger swelled inside her, but it was impotent. She had no weapon at hand, and even if she did, she was not a warrior. She hardened her heart and prayed to the gods that others would be able to escape and that they would be able to forgive her for what she was about to do. The fact that she was keeping a promise to her father didn't make it any easier, but still, she turned and fled from the fire and blood. Tears streamed down her face as she moved deeper into the forest, away from her home, her life, her family.