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Egon’s chest heaved with panting breaths. He had ridden at top speed to come here and had dispatched Arne’s guards along the way. His arms ached with the fatigue of battle but seeing Caoimhe sitting there renewed his spirits. He wasn’t about to let anything happen to her, and by the expression on her face, it didn’t appear as though she knew how much danger she was in. As soon as he saw Sven sitting beside her, everything fell into place. He was a villain of the most scurrilous kind, and Egon wasn’t going to let him out of there alive. He strode forward, drops of blood falling to the stone floor, challenging Sven to a duel. If he had an honorable bone in his body, he would have accepted, but before he could rise, Arne Hagen had already lifted his fist and called for guards to challenge the interloper.

Stocky, barrel-chested Vikings rose from their seats and drew their weapons. Their surly features were locked upon Egon, but he didn’t care. If he had to fight the legions of Valhalla to get to Sven, he would have. He roared as the first warrior came at him with the swipe of a sword. Egon deflected it and elbowed him in the face. There was a crunch as a nose broke and blood seeped down. The warrior cried out in pain, but then two more were upon him. Egon caught the swords with his own and struck back. The reverberations of steel rang down his arm and made him tremble, but still, he continued to fight, clenching his jaw together tightly to brace himself against the pain. One sword caught him on the arm and made him yell in pain as he was deflecting the other blow. A third Viking came to join the onslaught, piling on with a venomous cry. Egon was now faced with three attackers, with the fourth on the floor nursing his wounded nose. Egon snarled and kicked out wildly, knocking one of the attackers unbalanced while striking out with his sword. He slashed across a chest and then threw himself at the third attacker, bringing him to the floor. Flesh hit stone, and Egon scrambled to get back up, hitting the Viking with the hilt of his sword as he did so.

He whirled around and was met with a punch to the face. He staggered back and blinked away the stars just in time to be able to block the blow that came to him. This was the first fight in a long time where he had actually been challenged, and it had taken four of them to be a match for him. Egon clashed swords with the two that were standing, fighting them back.

“They’re not going to stop me. I’m going to get to you!” he cried, glaring beyond the battle to Sven, who looked entirely untroubled.

Egon stepped back and was ready to let another attack fly when he noticed that he couldn’t move his body the way he wanted. He looked down and saw that the man he had just dumped to the floor had wrapped his arms around Egon’s legs, holding him in place. Egon snarled and went to attack, but it left his flank open. Locked in place, he was unable to evade the blows as easily as he would have otherwise, and then the Viking with the broken nose clamped his arms around the other leg, rooting Egon to the spot. He roared as he tried to lift his legs, but even he wasn’t strong enough to break free of the Vikings. His sword swung around wildly, but he was unable to defend himself. The blows rained down on him, and a sword slashed down his forearm. The pain was so sharp it caused him to drop his weapon. It clattered to the ground, so he swung his fists because it was all he had left, but one of the Vikings caught his swinging arm and pulled it around behind his back. The remaining Viking caught the other arm and did the same thing, leaving Egon effectively shackled by his enemies. He strained against their might but was unable to break free. He gnashed his teeth and glared at Sven, who by now had risen from his seat and approached. Egon wasn’t about to stop there, though. He could still save Caoimhe. He could still warn her.

“Don’t listen to him!” Egon cried out, but before he could say anything, Sven had clocked him on the jaw so hard that the taste of blood filled his mouth.

“Take him away. We don’t need his kind sullying our feast,” Sven said.

Egon struggled limply, but after his efforts to reach this place, he lacked the strength to take on an army by himself. It seemed as though the strength of Mjolnir had not been with him today. Darkness descended in his eyes as he was dragged down long and damp corridors and flung unceremoniously into a dungeon. Teeth clattered in his skull as he hit the hard floor, and he groaned when the door was locked behind him. His hand curled into a fist and he hit the ground, hating that he had failed Caoimhe.

Hating that her fate was in Sven’s hands.

The fight was over almost as quickly as it had begun. Caoimhe couldn’t believe the speed or the skill that had been on display, and she was dismayed when Egon had lost. It had taken four men to defeat him. She couldn’t help but be impressed with his prowess, but she was puzzled by his sudden appearance and his declaration that somebody was a liar. Caoimhe knew that he had been speaking to her, but who had he meant? Sven? Arne? Or both?

She wore a mask of composure, but deep down, she knew that something was wrong. There was an unsettling feeling in her stomach that wouldn’t go away.

“I’m sorry about that,” Sven said, shaking his hand, as he had punched Egon with great force. “At least we won’t have to be worried about him again.”

“But why would he attack this place by himself?” Caoimhe asked.

“Who knows what drives a man like that. We will deal with him and his allies. They shall rot for all the pain they have caused,” Sven said.

“With this plan, aye?” Caoimhe asked, looking at Arne Hagen. “Ye were about tae tell me what ye are gaeing tae dae.”

Arne replied in his smooth voice, “I don’t believe that’s quite true. All I said was that there is a way to stop the raids.”

Caoimhe waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. He and Sven seemed to be privy to a private joke that she was not aware of.

“All you have to do is wait until tomorrow, and then we’ll take care of all the Vikings around here,” Arne Hagen said. His voice was laced with cruelty, and Caoimhe couldn’t shake the feeling that she was in terrible danger. She was about to ask another question when Arne spoke again. “You must be tired from your journey here. I think you should go and rest.”

“I’m fine,” Caoimhe said, but Arne and Sven were already rising.

“I think Arne is right, Caoimhe. You’ve been through a lot recently. Let’s get you somewhere to rest,” Sven said.

The two men towered above her, and all around in the chamber were more Vikings. She was surrounded. With a glum look on her face, she rose and followed the two men through the castle. They led her up through winding stairs to a small, dank room. When the door was opened, she heard the flutter of wings leave through a small window, although she wasn’t sure if it was a bird or a bat. She stood in the middle of the room while the men remained in the doorway.

“What is this?” she asked, looking around at the squalor in which they expected her to stay. It wasn’t even as nice as the room she had occupied at the inn. The ground was hard, dirt and grime laced the walls and floor, and there was a pungent smell that made her feel nauseous. She looked at Sven with a pained expression, wondering how he could treat her this way when he claimed to love her. He was supposed to want to marry her! But what man would dare treat his wife in this manner?

“Sven, why are ye keeping me here? I dinnae want tae stay here. Where’s my da? I want tae find my da!” she cried.

Sven’s expression was cold. It was as though he wore a second skin. Those eyes weren’t the same eyes that had sparkled with wonder when they had spoken to her. His lips weren’t the same as the ones that had promised so much. Fear crept around her like a cocoon.

“Just stay here, Caoimhe, and keep quiet. Arne and I have much to do. I’ll come for you again in the morning, and then we’ll talk about what’s going to happen next,” Sven said.

Caoimhe opened her mouth to speak again, to try and convince him that what he was doing was wrong, but Sven had already turned his back and closed the door upon her, shutting her in this depressing room. She leaned against the wall and looked around, only realizing then that it was akin to a cell in a dungeon. Her thoughts turned to Egon and why he had shown up here of all places. If Sven was telling the truth, then why on Earth would Egon have come here by himself? The look on Egon’s face had been telling. Not only had he been angry, but he had been scared as well, and she had a feeling that he was scared for her.

She thought she might have wandered into a trap without knowing it.

A hard lump of fear appeared in her throat, and no matter how hard she tried to swallow it down, it just wouldn’t go. She and Egon were captive, and she still had no idea where her father was. She had to escape, but who could she go to? She had nobody except the villagers, and they weren’t in any shape to attack the castle. No, only Vikings could fight Vikings, and it was then that she knew of one other possibility: Egon’s brother. Hope filled her heart.

Now all she needed to do was think of a way to escape the castle without Arne or Sven knowing.