Filed to story: A Fate Inked In Blood Free
“I gain nothing from your death,” he answered. “So fight!”
None of this made sense.
Bjorn alone seemed to agree. “There’s no sport to this contest. It’s nothing more than this weasel-cocked fishmonger wanting bigger men to punish his wife for his own failings beneath the furs.”
“I plowed her nightly,” Vragi shouted. “It’s her fault!”
“Perhaps you plowed the wrong field!” Bjorn laughed and jumped out of the way of my swing, knocking his axe against my shield as though batting a fly.
My temper flared bright, less for the crass implication and more for the fact he wasn’t even giving me the honor of trying. “Lemon juice made quick work of any seed his prick had to sow.”
Probably not wise to give up my secret, but given that my death seemed imminent, it was worth seeing the look of stunned outrage on Vragi’s face. Bjorn howled with laughter, staggering backward and clutching at his stomach, though he was quick to block my attack when I tried to stab him.
“Gods, Vragi,” he laughed. “The world is truly better off without your progeny if you don’t question why your woman tastes of lemons.”
Tastes? I froze, staring at Bjorn, who gave me a slow smile.
“Seems he was most definitely doing it wrong.”
“Bjorn, shut the fuck up!” Snorri paced in a circle around us. “Kill her now or I’m going to cut out your tongue to silence you!”
The humor fell away from Bjorn’s eyes. “I wish fate had been kinder to you, Freya.”
Without warning, he attacked.
Gone were the halfhearted swats and effortless parries, and in their place were heavy blows that sent me staggering.
I’d thought I knew how to fight. What it would be like to be in a real battle. Nothing could have prepared me for the understanding that no matter how hard I swung, how quick I parried, the end was coming for me.
My shield burned, smoke and heat stinging my eyes, but I didn’t dare drop it. Bjorn attacked again. I moved to defend, but his axe caught hold of my blade and ripped it from my grip, sending it spinning into the forest.
This was it.
This was the moment.
Yet Bjorn hesitated, stepping back instead of moving in for the kill. A killer, yes. But not a murderer.
“Get it over with,” Snorri shouted. “You’ve dragged this out long enough. Kill her!”
I was afraid. So painfully afraid that though I sucked in breath after desperate breath, it felt like nothing reached my lungs. Like I was being strangled by my own terror. Yet I managed to heft the burning shield, ready to fight to the end. Ready to die with honor. Ready to earn my place in Valhalla.
The burning axe blurred toward me, striking my shield. A split formed in the wood even as I stumbled backward, barely keeping my feet. My arm ached with the force of the impact, and a sob tore from my lips.
He swung again.
I saw it as though time had slowed. Knew the force of the blow would shatter the shield and sever my arm. Knew that I’d smell my own burned flesh. My own scorched blood.
My courage wavered, then failed me.
“Hlin,” I gasped out the name forbidden to me all my life. “Protect me!”
A clap of thunder shattered my ears as Bjorn’s flaming axe struck my shield, which was no longer formed of wood but of silver light. The impact sent him soaring through the air, his body slamming into a tree a dozen paces from me with enough force that the trunk split.
Bjorn fell to the ground in a heap, stunned, his axe landing in a pile of pine needles and swiftly setting them ablaze.
Yet no one did anything to smother the flames. No one moved. No one so much as spoke.
Slowly, Bjorn pushed himself upright, shaking his head to clear it even as his eyes fixed on me. His voice shook as he said, “She’s the shield maiden.”
A shiver ran through me, and I vanquished my magic. But it was too late. They’d all seen.
They all knew.
“You see, my lord,” Vragi said, his voice loud and grating. “It is as I said: Freya is a child of the goddess Hlin and has been hiding her magic.”
Though it mattered little, the first thought that rose in my head was: How did he know?
Vragi chuckled, seeing the question in my eyes. “All those times you sneaked away, I thought you were lying with another man. So I followed you. Caught you out sure enough, even if it had nothing to do with another cock.”
My stomach hollowed. How had I been so blastedly stupid? Why hadn’t I taken more care?
“Steinunn,” Snorri said. “This will be the song of a generation, and it will be composed by your magic.”