Thrall
When Ailia woke up, the first thing she did was to look for Soren over in the next cell. When she saw that he was still sleeping and hadn’t suddenly disappeared in the night, she breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn’t been as cold as she thought she’d be, maybe because the snow that covered the planks had kept some warmth inside.
The sun started rising in the east and she could see that dunes of snow covered the surfaces of everything, blanketing the longhouses, the courtyard and every tree around. Not a single cloud that she could see from her limited view graced the blue sky. She hoped the sun would warm her, as its rays would soon shine around the corner and onto their cages.
Her stomach rumbled, and the last meal she remembered eating was repast at Unni and Brander’s house during the Late Summer Festival. Would the Vikings feed them or would they starve them to death? She peered over and wondered whether she should wake Soren or not. She decided to let him sleep a while longer. Sitting in silence, she searched the surroundings for any weapons or other items they might appropriate if they managed to escape today.
She noted that a different Viking stood watch over by the main entrance and he looked much more alert than the guard who had been there yesterday. A raven flew from the top of one of fern trees to another. Cawing as it landed, it disturbed the heavy snow-covered branch, causing clumps of snow to fall to the snow below. How fitting, she thought. A stupid raven. Most birds had flown south for the winter, the eternal winter it would seem.
The door to the main longhouse opened and three stout Vikings immediately headed in Ailia and Soren’s direction. Gunnar probably lived in the largest of the five abodes and more than likely, he had sent these men to do something sinister.
Ailia recognized one of the brutes from the previous day, but the others were unfamiliar. They waded one after each other through the new, ankle-high snow with their hefty boots, plowing a path that would last until the next heavy snowfall.
“Soren,” she said, trying to wake him. “Soren!” she yelled. “They’re coming! The Vikings are coming!”
He stirred for a moment and then woke up, rising abruptly. He quickly spotted the Vikings. Turning to Ailia, he reached his fingers toward her through the cracks. “Everything is going to be fine, Ailia,” he said, in a deeply penetrating voice, looking into her eyes across the divide. “There is no escape for us at the moment, but Ivar will return soon with hundreds of angry Bergendalers. Just find a way to survive until that time, promise me.”
She nodded. “I will.”
The eldest Viking lifted the steel cage from off her prison dome and lifted the opening flap of the plank crate. It creaked loudly, its high-pitched scream sending chills through Ailia’s body.
“Come here, girl.” He grabbed her arm and jerked her out of the cage. The Viking let her go just as the force of the pull peaked, and she tumbled into the snow with a grunt. As her bare hands met the snow, they stung.
“Are ya havin’ trouble standin’ up, hora?” one of the Vikings said.
She glowered at them as she stood up and brushed the snow off her skirt and overcoat.
“Be careful what you do to her, for your heads will soon be on my chopping block,” Soren said.
“The damage will already have been done by then,” one of the other Vikings retorted. “And from the look of things, you’re going to be losing your head here in a bit.”
Ailia’s heart pounded in her chest as she thought of the things they might do to Soren and her. But she must not show them she was afraid. “If you knew who you are dealing with—”
The short Viking walked over to her and slapped her face, knocking her into the snow again.
“You will treat her with respect!” Soren yelled from his cage. “Once I get out of here, I will kill every one of you. If you stop now and let her go, I still might spare your pitiful lives.”
The eldest walked over to Soren’s cage and kicked it hard several times, causing the rusty metal to shake and rattle. He lowered his head and looked into Soren’s eyes, which were peeping through a small opening. “I can’t wait,” he said, sneering as he spoke.
The two other Vikings grabbed Ailia’s arms and lifted her to her feet.
“Gunnar would like to see you now,” the eldest said, staring at her. He walked over until his face was just an inch away from hers, and then he sniffed her skin, inhaling her scent and closed his eyes, as if to experience the smell more intensely. “Ah, the smell of fresh, womanly youth.” He opened his eyes. “Nothing smells better.”
Ailia turned her face away in disgust. He reeked of sweat, smoke, and urine and his breath stunk like rotten reindeer meat. When he smiled, he looked like an ogre as his teeth were decayed and stained from many years of neglect.
“Did your mother not teach you how to bathe?” she asked.
“She did. And actually, I loved having her wash every part of me. Especially here.” He seized Ailia’s hand and shoved it to his genitalia, making her rub it. She snapped her hand back, but not before she had felt how hard he was. The Viking grabbed her hair and pulled her head backward, aiming a dagger to her throat.
“Ailia!” Soren yelled from his cage, trying to kick it open. “I will kill all of you, do you hear?”
“Shut your face, dead man!” the eldest yelled, not taking his eyes off Ailia. “Gunnar shares all of his spoils with me, so when the time comes, I’m going to…”
Suddenly, Gunnar came storming out of the largest house. “What’s in Loki’s name is taking so long?” he blasted, his eyes wide open, his bearded face steaming red.
The eldest Vikings immediately pulled away and redirected his attention to his chieftain.
“She’s being difficult,” the eldest said.
“Difficult?” Gunnar said, giving him a look of disbelief. “Difficult? She is our prisoner. There are three of you, one of her!”
Ailia saw the opportunity to free herself. She leaned into the Vikings’ arms, lifted her feet off the ground and kicked Gunnar as hard as she could in the head.
Gunnar flew through the air and hit the snow. Everyone stood silently watching for a moment.
“Are you—uh,” the eldest Vikings started as the others dug their fingers into Ailia’s arms.
She gasped at the pain.
“Am I what—am I hurt?” Gunnar said, laughing as he rose to his feet. Blood ran from his nose and lips and he wiped it away with the sleeve of his black wolf-fur overcoat. “I’m a Viking chieftain. Do you think that a sniveling girl like this can disrupt my being—all right? Oh, she’ll be a pleasure to break, this feisty one,” he said, licking the blood from his lips. “Do you remember us? We had big plans together you and I,” he said, moving closer, not breaking his stare.
Big plans? Ailia wished she could remember. What she didn’t know frightened her.
“I don’t know how you survived,” Gunnar said. “How ever did you manage?”
“You will leave her alone, Gunnar,” Soren said calmly, but so firmly that Gunnar turned his attention to him.
“Why, who have we here?” Gunnar said. He walked over to the cage and hunched down beside it. “A helpless animal trapped in a cage, threatening his executioner? Soren, old friend, I almost didn’t recognize you there behind all the wood and metal. Is this your girl?” he gestured to Ailia with a flick of his wrist.
Ailia could see Soren’s eyes growing darker and darker.
“But, surely, this isn’t Princess Lucia, the Great Sentinor, your soul mate which you are destined to be with? Do we have a love triangle going on here?” he mocked. “How interesting—I would have to agree with you, though, this young lady is much more desirable than Her Royal Highness Lucia, who pales in comparison to this beauty.”
Ailia was shocked he knew about them at all, but not wanting to feed his knowledge by acknowledging or denying his information, she kept her lips sealed.
“I am warning you, Gunnar. if you touch her in any way, you will live to regret it every day of your life,” Soren said.
“I doubt it,” Gunnar retorted arrogantly, staring Ailia down. “Eiess told me many things about you and your beloved Princess Lucia, Soren. It’s a shame that as we speak, she’s headed to the Northlandic Castle to join forces with the Empress,” he said, his hand fondling Ailia’s overcoat.
Ailia glanced at Soren. Don’t say anything, Ailia. Gunnar’s just trying to get inside your mind. His words are calculating and well-placed. Don’t give him that satisfaction, she thought. Gunnar most likely didn’t know about Ailia’s connection to Lucia but was probably trying to get Soren to react to his cunning comments and spill more information.
Soren shook his head at Ailia.
I’m not going to fall for it and divulge more information, she swore to herself. Ailia tried to wriggle out of the tight grip the Vikings held her in, but it was no use.
Gunnar smiled devilishly. Then, a stroke of enlightenment flashed across his face.
“Put her back in the box,” he ordered the Vikings. “Come with me.”
The Vikings did as they were commanded and threw Ailia back into the cage. She hit her head on the side of the cage and cut herself across the right eyebrow, muting a scream of pain that wanted to surface. She refused to give the Vikings the satisfaction of knowing they had hurt her and she definitely didn’t want to appear weak in the barbarians’ eyes. Not because she wanted to impress them, but rather, because she wanted them to know that she would not be cowered.
The Vikings followed Gunnar back into the longhouse.
“You are hurt,” Soren said.
She touched her forehead by the cut and winced when it stung. “It’s nothing.”
“Press snow on it. It will help stop the bleeding.”
She squeezed her fingers through a couple of planks and scooped up some snow, pressing it to the wound.
“See this?” he said.
Ailia scooted closer and looked to where he was pointing.
“After you went to sleep last night, I worked on sawing the bottom edges with this,” he said, showing her a small knife. “I hid it inside my stocking, so the Vikings would not find it when they ransacked me. I am done detaching one side and as soon as I detach another, I think I might be able to break the bottom of the cage free if I lift up forcefully like so,” he said, as he showed her how.
“If only being a Sentinor meant we could walk through these walls, we’d be fine,” Ailia said, wishing now that she had another power other than being able to envision the past. It seemed like a useless gift, at least in the moment.
Soren continued to gnaw at the wood with his knife, moving closer to their escape with every stroke.
A shorn-headed woman crossed the courtyard with two buckets of snow. She glanced over at Ailia and Soren and stopped in the middle of the yard, looking at them as if she wanted to approach them.
“C-c-can I fetch you s-something?” The woman stammered in an unusually high-pitched voice, and her whole upper body twitched uncontrollably as she moved. Though she was young, she was far from beautiful. Perhaps she had been beautiful at some point, but with her hair shaven, a filthy face and yellowing teeth, Ailia couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.
The woman set the buckets down and eyed the guard, who had turned in another direction, before she shambled over to Ailia.
“Here,” she said, handing Ailia a piece of dried meat, squeezing it through the largest gap between the planks. She quickly stepped back away from the cage a good two feet.
“Thank you,” Ailia said.
“I’m K-k-kelda, the n-n-new thrall here, serving these s-self-proclaimed k-k-kings. It has all g-gone downhill s-since Ava, G-g-g-gunnar’s wife, left a little while b-back. She h-helped k-k-keep things b-b-b…b-balanced around here. Now, it’s b-becoming a miserable p-place.”
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Ailia and this is Soren.”
“I can c-c-come back with extra after I p-p…place some more wood onto the h-hearth inside. There’s p-plenty m-m-more,” she said, looking nervously around. She hurried off, picking up the buckets on the way.
There wasn’t much meat, but Soren insisted Ailia eat all of it, saying he would eat some as soon as Kelda returned with more. They chewed on snow to quench their thirsts and Soren returned to his sawing project.
“Tell me about our grandchildren, or great, great grandchildren, right?” Ailia invited, feeling somewhat strange asking the question and strange that she actually had grandchildren.
“I call them grandchildren; it makes me feel at least a few years younger,” he said, cracking a smile.
As he went into great detail about each grandchild, Ailia envisioned their beautiful faces before her. “I cannot wait to meet them all. I just hope they’ll want to meet me also.”
“They cannot wait to meet you,” he said, tediously working on the next plank.
Ailia leaned her back toward one of the walls. “In the past, I’ve had a recurring maredream of Eiess and I wonder if it might be a memory from one of my first two lives. We had a daughter named Freydis,” she said, seeing if that name meant anything to Soren.
He stopped working and when he looked at Ailia he had tears in his eyes. “She was our first and only child, in your second life.”
“Oh.” Ailia’s throat clamped up.
“She waited and waited for the day you would return. She never gave up hope that she would see you again. Even right before she died, she thought she might get word of your return,” His voice was deep and thick as though he was about to cry.
Ailia covered her mouth with her hand and let out a cry. “Oh, my Freydis.”
Two of Gunnar’s Vikings stormed back out of the longhouse, heading straight in their direction.
“Be brave, Ailia,” Soren said, reaching his fingers toward her. “I love you.”
“I love you.” She didn’t know where the words had come from, and she wasn’t sure she meant them, but they came so easily, as if she had spoken them a thousand times before.
In no time, the Vikings had flung open Ailia’s cage and were trying to pull her out, but she moved to the back, making it difficult for them to get hold of her. They finally grabbed her feet and hauled her out into the snow. Fisting his fingers through her hair, the Viking dragged her after him toward the longhouse.
She could feel Soren’s eyes on her and it gave her strength. “Be brave,” he had said. And she would be.
Entering the smoggy longhouse, Ailia felt the hot air burn her cheeks and hands. Weapons hung on one wall, and animal heads mounted to wooden plaques hung on the other. Two hearths burning side by side in the center of the room were crackling with fervor, and the room smelled of leather, wood, and stew.
Gunnar sat on a large, intricately carved, wooden chair and wore a red tunic and fox fur shawl. He had combed his hair back, and smiled when their eyes connected.
“I’m going to give you two choices,” Gunnar said cheerfully as he played with his beard.
“Only two?” Ailia said.
“Shut your mouth and hear the king speak!” one of the Vikings said, slapping her head.
“Choice number one,” Gunnar said, raising his index finger on his right hand. “Stay here and rule with me as queen of the Vikings. Rule by my right hand, as a free woman, as my wife and equal.” He paused.
“And the second choice?” she urged him, letting no emotion show on her face. Never will I be this man’s queen.
“Choice number two.” He added his middle finger to the first one. “Be sold as a thrall to whoever would buy you.” He sat back with a smug smirk on his face.
Ailia glared at him for a long time, saying nothing. Did he truly think he could convince her to marry him this way? And why did he want to marry her? She was no one to him other than an old family acquaintance. Did he know she was the Great Sentinor? No, he couldn’t know. Unless Lucia had told him. He did say she was heading to the Northlandic Castle, and maybe he had spoken to her, or one of his men had spoken to her.
“Well, have you an answer for me?” Gunnar finally asked.
“There’s a third choice you haven’t given me and that is to let Soren and me go free. We will then promise not to destroy your settlement and exterminate you and your filthy followers.” She had no idea where her strength was coming from. She didn’t fear torture, or dying, or any other manner of ill fate that would come to her if she didn’t please Gunnar. Though her body was trembling with fear, she felt calm and peaceful inside, standing firm on her ground, ready to demand what she wanted.
“Do not mock me!” Gunnar scooted forward to the edge of his seat, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “I can order these men to kill you right here, right now. You need to think more about your life before you throw it away with your arrogance and idealistic stupidity,” he said, still calm, but with a bit more anger welling up in his tone. “And as you remember before, you made the wrong decision and Ava had no other choice but to get rid of you.” He slouched back into his chair. “Though I still don’t understand how you survived Ava…” His voice trailed off.
What was my association with him before? “Whatever your former wife’s plan was, it failed, seeing I’m still here.” But then suddenly, as if a veil was lifted from her eyes, she remembered everything—every minute detail of the events that lead up to her awakening on the Blue Glaciers.
After the Vikings had captured her and dragged her here to their settlement, Ailia had sat imprisoned for over a month in the very cage Soren was now in. Ava had requested Ailia become her handmaiden, and after that, Ailia had been allowed to move around the settlement, though still bound by a long chain around her ankle.
The problems had started when Gunnar had wanted Ailia to become his second wife. Ava had grown jealous, but Gunnar wouldn’t stop pursuing Ailia. He had tried to rape her once, but fortunately, Ava had walked in on them and she had put an end to it, threatening she’d leave him if he did not stop. After that Ava had kept Ailia with her at all times, saying she was protecting her and her marriage. Then, Ava had become pregnant, and Gunnar had accused her that the child was not his. Lastly, Ailia remembered right before Ava had left the settlement, that she had forced poison down Ailia’s throat and dragged her to the glacier cave with two Vikings. They had beat her senseless until she lost consciousness and left her to die.
The thing that was supposed to kill me, led me to Soren. She turned her attention to Gunnar. “Look at you sitting there on your self-made throne, pretending to be a king among men, leading a bunch of fools with wills so weak they seek nothing but to be ruled by your ignorant, incompetent hand.” She paused and waited for his response, thinking he just might order his Vikings to take her life.
“You have chosen then?” Gunnar asked.
“Yes,” she said steadfastly, clenching her trembling fists, feeling her fingernails digging into the palms of her hands.
“Such a shame. Such a loss. You could have been ruler of the Vikings, queen of them all. I will not force you to marry me,” he said, sitting back into his chair, placing his elbow on the armrest and leaning his chin on his sturdy fist. “Take her away and prepare her as we discussed.” He looked away.
Before the Vikings were able to restrain her, Gunnar spoke again. “No wait!” He stood up and walked over to Ailia, grabbing both her arms and pulling her close in to his body. He kissed her passionately, forcing his tongue into her mouth. When he was finished, he let her go softly.
“Now, do you remember the passion we shared?” he asked, his blue-gray eyes searching hers.
She spit in his face. Her eyes burned with wrath and she had not truly hated anyone until this moment. “We had no passion. You wanted me, but I wanted nothing to do with you,” she said, remembering the day he had nearly raped her.
“She’s all yours, boys,” Gunnar said, wiping the spit off his face with a handkerchief—a handkerchief that looked exactly like the one she had found lying next to her on the glaciers.
The Vikings seized her and took her to the back room. She thought they were going to rape her or kill her, but she would rather that than give her will to Gunnar. It was better to die honorably, than to marry a man she hated and be without the man she loved.
The Vikings sat her down on a stool in the back room and took out a pair of shears. It was useless to fight, so she sat still as they chopped off her beautiful dark locks. Tears of anger flowed down her cheeks as they transformed her from a free woman to a thrall.
When they were done, she looked down at the floor to where her dark locks had fallen. I won’t mourn the loss of my hair.
“Thrall!” the Vikings mocked.
“You are the ugliest woman I’ve ever seen,” one said.
I don’t care, Ailia thought.
The Viking men took her back outside, but instead of dragging her back to her cage, they headed toward the one-horse enclosed sleigh that had brought her here.
“No!” she yelled, struggling against them. “Let me go!”
“Shut up, wench. You’re going to Trollsoe.”
Trollsoe? The city was miles and miles away, several days journey. And where was Soren? She looked toward the cages, searching for him. His door was wide open and he was gone. Blood trailed in the snow from where he had been and down the snow-packed path, between two longhouses, and into the woods.
“Soren! Soren!” she yelled, knowing they had hurt him or, fearing even worse, ended his life. “Can you hear me?” Her voice was one of severe desperation in which the most terrifying answer came in return: none.
As they opened the door to the sleigh, she kicked and screamed, knowing if they transported her to Trollsoe to be sold as a thrall, she might never see her family, or Bergendal, or Soren ever again.
After they had forced her into the sleigh, they locked her in, leaving her in a heap of tears on the floor.
“You’ll be regretting your decision sooner rather than later,” one of the Vikings said. “And your friend there—” he said, looking over at Soren’s open, bloody cage, his hands resting on his hips. “—Good luck ever seeing him again. His dead carcass will be fed to the wolves.”
Ailia lunged toward the small cage window and wrapped her fingers around the freezing iron bars, wrestling to open it. “You will live to regret this day!” she whispered furiously, tears brimming in her hazel eyes. “I will remember you and I will come for you. I’ve imbedded your face into my memory and the day you see me again will be the day you die.”
The Viking laughed. “I guess I’ll be living to a ripe old age then!”
The other Viking had already climbed onto the box seat, and whistled to the horse to start moving. With a jolt, the sleigh took off.
Ailia clenched the bars as she stared back at the disappearing settlement from her moving prison. I will die with my light still unshed. For many more hopeless hours, she kept her gaze fixed on the horizon as it vanished before her tear-filled eyes.