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Erik’s body ached all over. No matter in which position he sat or lay, there was always some other dull pain that plagued him. His wounds were in much better condition than they had been after the battle, and that was a testament to Sigrid’s skills as a healer, even though her touch hadn’t been the lightest. She was quite a strange woman, so passionate and full of fire, yet with contradictory beliefs. She seemed to value being a Viking, and yet she made dismissive comments of the gods. Her tale was one that inspired pity. Erik certainly didn’t appreciate how Ivar was taking children from villages he ransacked and making them his “children,” nor how he was taking slaves. It was clear that he was cut from the same cloth as Arne Hagen, and it filled him with dread that Ivar could continue to raid and pillage and perhaps try and make war against his family. Erik needed to escape and get word back to his home so that they could prepare defenses against this man, for Ivar seemed determined to get his revenge.

The beating he had given Erik had been one of the worst of Erik’s life. He’d fought as best he could, considering the limitations placed upon him, but he still yearned for another crack at Ivar to wipe that smug smile off his face. He would show Ivar that the Hoffstad’s prowess in swordsmanship had not been overrated. All he needed was a chance…although it didn’t seem as though one was going to present itself anytime soon. He waited for Ivar to come again and torture him again. The brute had made it clear that one battle wasn’t going to be enough. Erik knew he was going to have to get used to pain.

To his surprise, Sigrid approached him again. He heard her boast that she was the daughter of Ivar to the guard, and he thought it strange how she was so quick to deny her false parentage while using it when it was advantageous to her. Once again, he remarked to himself that she was a woman of great contradictions, and there was something captivating about this. She was far from the type of woman that he had been used to at home. Even the Viking women who had settled were gentle and kind of spirit. Sigrid was as beautiful as a rose when she wasn’t scowling, but like a rose, she had thorns that could draw blood and woe betide any man who grew close to her.

Erik was sitting slumped against the side of the cell when Sigrid came up to him. They were separated by the bars, for this time, she did not enter the cell. He tilted his neck back to look up at her, squinting through a swollen eye.

“You say that you still follow the ways of the Viking, yes?” she asked in a blunt voice.

“I like to think so,” Erik said.

“Does your blood run hot enough to kill?” she asked.

Erik thought about the question for a moment. “If the cause is just,” he replied. By the expression on her face, he sensed that his response was barely acceptable. She pressed her lips together and then lowered her voice so that only he could hear her.

“Then what would you say if I gave you the chance to help kill a man who enslaved people and almost beat you to death?” she asked.

Erik’s ears pricked up. He had been raised to believe that there was always a non-violent solution to any problem. He had learned much from his mother and prided himself on being able to make agreements between clans, but he could not deny his Viking heritage either. He could wield a sword just as easily as he could wield words, and sometimes words would not do. He knew there was no reasoning with Ivar Bjork, and if he stayed alive, he would only continue to spread harm and death across the world.

He lifted his gaze to meet Sigrid’s eyes. “I’d say that I’m in.”

Sigrid’s lips curled into a smile. “Do you have men you can call upon?”

“I do, and I assume you have the knowledge of how to defeat him, such as the number of men he has and his usual strategies?”

“I can indeed. I will help you escape if you help me in this, but make no mistake about this, Erik Hoffstad; when this is over, we will still be enemies. I care nothing for you outside what you can offer me. We will see Ivar dead, and then we will decide what happens with you.”

Erik nodded. He didn’t much care for her tone. There were moments when she seemed as ruthless and dangerous as Ivar himself, but then he remembered the way she had dressed his wounds and stopped him from being killed. He also noticed the way emotion shifted in her eyes when her parents were mentioned. Somewhere in there was a real person, and he was determined to find her.

Sigrid walked away from the cage after having made arrangements with Erik. It was a brave step to actually put a plan into motion, but it was far past time that she should take some action against her father. Revenge had always been in her heart, festering ever since that day that Ivar had come to her village and destroyed her world. She had been lazy, always waiting and waiting for the right moment, but now she understood that she had to create the moment. If she couldn’t find allies within the camp, then she had to find allies outside, and she and Erik shared a common goal. For now, she could trust that he wouldn’t betray her to Ivar, and that was enough. What she would do with him after that, she didn’t know, but all that mattered to her in the immediate future was taking care of Ivar. He had humiliated her too much by now, and it was time for him to shuffle away from the world.

Despite her distaste for everything and everyone in this place, it had still been her home for most of her life, and as she walked through the village to the market, she couldn’t help but become wistful about the thought of leaving this place. The market especially had been a great source of joy to her. When she had been younger, it was the first time she had felt excited after her parents had passed. Coins had been pressed into her hand, and she had been told to go and buy anything she wanted. Other children bought sweet snacks and pretty trinkets, but she had saved her money until something had really caught her eye. The first thing she bought had been a wooden sword. Ivar had been amused by this and said that she was going to be the finest warrior in the land. It had been an empty promise meant to appease a small girl, but at the time, she had looked at the sword and imagined burying it in his heart. This anger had sustained her for so long she wasn’t sure how she could ever live without it. It tinged her world red.

There were other memories, too; some were even happy. She gazed past the market to the path that led to the shore. From this vantage point, she could just about see the masts of ships that were waiting to embark on another raid, another voyage. She and Kari had often spent days there watching them leave and return, speculating about the lands they saw. Promises had been made that would never be fulfilled now. Kari was going to have another life, one where she was going to be a wife and bear children, more men to be turned into warriors who would become brutes like Ivar. The thought of getting married and bringing a child into a world like this was abhorrent to Sigrid. She couldn’t think of any worse punishment, as most children only ended up with a heavy dose of sorrow weighing down on their hearts. Sometimes she even wished that her parents had never decided to have her. It would have saved her a lot of heartbreak.

As she walked through the market, she caught people glancing her way, parting when she approached. She even noticed the man who had goaded her. He recoiled and sought cover just in case she decided to hurl something at him again. She smiled, though. At least someone was rightfully afraid of her.

She walked past the market and along a narrow, winding path that few ever bothered to tread. At the end of this path was a small hut that housed an old, blind woman called Yrsa. She was a thin wisp of a woman with unruly silver hair and gnarled fingers. Her eyes were as white as snow, and even though she couldn’t see anything, there was still the unnerving feeling that she was looking directly into a soul. Sigrid called out as she approached, not wanting to alarm the woman. Yrsa was her closest friend in the village, mostly because nobody else bothered much with Yrsa, just like nobody bothered much with Sigrid.

“Ah, Sigrid, I heard that you have created some commotion,” Yrsa said.

Sigrid didn’t know how Yrsa always managed to hear these things, considering so few people came to visit her, but Yrsa always seemed to know what was going on in the village.

“What of it?” Sigrid asked, peering into the bubbling cauldron that stood outside Yrsa’s hut. Thick smoke billowed out of it, but it smelled delicious. There was an understanding between them that Sigrid could always help herself to food, and since she was still starving, she helped herself to hearty portions of this stew.

“You should be more careful who you speak ill of. To be callous against the gods is to invite danger and misery,” Yrsa said in her reedy, quavering voice.

Sigrid rolled her eyes. “I’m tired of hearing about what the gods will do to me if I speak out against them. They have already piled misery upon me, so how much worse can it really get? If they’re so thin-skinned that they get upset if someone speaks out against them, then perhaps they’re not that powerful at all.”

Yrsa gasped and muttered a quick prayer to the gods in Old Norse, but Sigrid merely rolled her eyes again, feeling as though it was an empty gesture.

“The gods can always make things worse,” Yrsa warned. “As can Ivar. You should be careful what you say to him as well. A man can only take so much before he breaks, and I sense that Ivar is getting very close to sealing your doom.”

It’s I who is close to sealing his, Sigrid thought.

“Don’t worry about that any longer, Yrsa. I’m not staying to put up with him any longer. That’s why I’m here. I came to say goodbye. I’m going to do what I vowed to do all those years ago,” Sigrid said. She had never tried to hide her intentions from Yrsa, mostly because nothing could ever be hidden from the blind woman. She had an uncanny knack for seeing beyond the visible and had great insight into thoughts and feelings. It was a skill that Sigrid wished she could learn, but it seemed to be beyond her.