Fault (Book 1 of the Vikings Series)

Chapter 3

Singrid stands a few feet away, arms crossed. Most of the women are already assembled, waiting for the spectacle to unfold.
"When I married Tarben, it was also a commitment to watch over the women and children during Raid. Not, to watch over foolish children that aren't responsible enough to do as they're told!" Singrid shouts. She looks honestly infuriated.
"I'm sorry!" Briar says pathetically. I glance around in the crowd and find the boy's mother. She looks just as mad as Singrid and wears a glare of disappointment.
"Tarben told me to banish you. Why shouldn't I?"
Briar stays silent, still kneeling on the ground.
"Pathetic," my mother grumbles. "Where's his ring?" She shouts into the crowd. I glance towards Saga and watch a tear slide down her cheek. Saga finally steps forwards and drops it into Singrid's hand. Immediately, she throws it out into the harbor.
"Men of this village have been going out on Raid for centuries. It's how you prove your loyalty. Currently, you have shown that you have no loyalty. If you're wondering about your role here, ask the Thralls because until the men get back, that is what you'll be. A slave."
Singrid moves purposefully away from the scene and Briar stands to his feet. His feet thud on the wooden boards as he rushes to catch up with my mother. She hears him coming but doesn't stop.
"What right do you have to declare me a Thrall?" Briar hisses. Singrid stops. Her whole body is tense.
“That is not a fight you want to pick boy," she replies tightly.
"You said yourself, you married into this position. Why should I listen to a word you say?"
Singrid turns to face him slowly. My eyes widen. I've never seen Singrid like this. She appears completely calm but her fists are clenched.
"You don't have the slightest clue what our culture is based on. The Raid. I have been on twelve different Raids and you don't have the respect to go on your first one. You missed it! Not me! Don't pretend this is anyone’s fault but yours,” Singrid challenges. What?!? my brain explodes. Twelve? Sure I knew she had been on a couple Raid but twelve?
 It seems that Briar gets it through his thick skull that he’s in a little bit over his head and no one, not even Saga, is going to defend him against Singrid. She, once again, starts away. Probably to our house. After a few moments, everyone else starts to disperse. Briar walks out on the dock and stops at the edge, staring out at the ships that are about to disappear on the horizon. He runs a hand through his jet black hair and yells in frustration. I cautiously approach him, not sure how he’ll take it.
“I don’t want you around, Elin. In case you missed it, your mother just made me a slave,” he says cruelly.
“Since when are you going to judge me based on what my parents do?”
“This is a little bit past yelling at us for our jokes,” he replies. I sit down on one of the dock posts.
“I know. But for what it’s worth, it could be worse,” I console.
“Is that really your advice?” he scoffs. “It could be worse?!”
“Hey, I’d give up a lot to go on Raid. Other people, not so much,” I shrug.
“Are you calling me a coward? I belong on those ships!”
“Calm down Briar! You’re here, now. So, what are you going to make of it?”
Briar takes a deep breath. He doesn’t reply for a few moments and the dead air eats away at me. Suddenly, he turns to me.
“Did you know your mother had been on twelve raid?”
I shake my head. “No,” I answer. “She never talks about it.”
“Why do you think she was even allowed on Raid?” he asks, though I get the sense he already knows the answer. 
I shrug. “I have no idea.”
Briar laughs under his breath. He kneels down beside me and whispers in my ear.
“If you want to know who your mother really is, you should start asking questions.”
And with that, he leaves. I listen to the sound of his footsteps fade out into the distance. Now that I’m alone, I stare blankly towards the horizon where the ships are just small dots on the horizon.
The words of Briar haunt me. He’s just mad, I try to convince myself. It doesn’t work. The more I think about it, the more I realize how little I know of my mother’s past. Usually when Tarben’s around, I don’t ask and then when he’s gone, we’re usually both so busy.
These thoughts spin in my head until I conclude I need to find Singrid and get to the bottom of whatever Briar was hinting at.
It doesn’t take long when I see her in the village speaking to a group of young women. I wait until they disperse before pulling my mother aside. We walk together in the direction of the farms.
“Mom, I need to ask you something,” I begin cautiously.
“What is it?”
“It’s about the raid. Why didn’t you ever tell me you went on so many?”
Singrid chuckles softly. “It’s not necessarily something I’d like to remember. I only brought that up because of Briar’s attitude.”
“But I thought women were never allowed on Raid?” I press.
“It’s complicated. In a way, I wasn’t supposed to be on them but I also was forced to be there,” she tries to explain.
“Raid just sound so.. I don’t know.. fulfilling. Like, I feel like I’m stuck between you, Tarben, and Gunnar without a chance of ever living up to the name because I can’t go on Raid.”
Singrid suddenly focuses completely on me. I hadn’t expected her to be so concerned by my comment. She pushes a few strands of blond hair from my face and leans in close.
“Chin up. This is your life to live.”
I nod. She starts to leave.
“Wait. I know you’re busy, but can I ask you a favor?” I speak up, not wanting my question to go unasked.
“Anything, child,” Singrid says.
“Can you please teach my how to fight? Tarben had once agreed to but I can tell he’ll never actually take me seriously.”
Singrid lets out a perplexed sigh.
“Elin, sweetheart. I know you might think things are different with your father away on Raid and they are, but I won’t go back on any of his choices. That was my decision as much as his.”
“So you went on twelve Raids and earned the respect of almost every Viking and I’m supposed to, what? Beg for respect?!? Sure, Gunnar might be chief someday but I’ll have a name to make for myself.”
“This isn’t about respect! This is about keeping you safe,” Singrid says.
“Of course this is about respect! Why do I get the feeling you and Tarben are trying to stop me from getting any?” I exclaim. Singrid starts to say something but I tear away from her, not wanting to hear her lame excuse. I rush back to our house and climb into the loft.
For the most part, things start to fall into routine in Havredal. Singrid gives me my usual extensive list of tasks to accomplish and I go about finishing them every day. Surprisingly, Briar probably becomes my closest friend now that Vern is gone. Don't get me wrong, he isn't overly nice to me but at least it's a distraction while we both work like Thralls. Briar has basically become the go to person when anything needs to get done, a role he is less than thrilled about. Even Saga rarely talks to him. Probably because she feels responsible for what happened.
About a week after the men had left on Raid is when the beginning of my crazy adventure starts to unfold.
I stand in the large meal room, stacking the plates after breakfast behind the wooden counter. Briar moves about on the opposite side of the room, flipping the stools upside down on top of the tables. Just another task the cook assigned him. After he finishes he wanders over to the counter and leans his elbows down on the wood.  
"Seven," he says randomly. I glance up at him for a moment.
"Seven what?"
"Days, you idiot," Briar snorts. I roll my eyes and focus back on my work. Suddenly, Briar grabs the plate I'm holding in my hand.
"What the heck? I have work I need to do just like you!" I exclaim. He still doesn't let go. His face bares a large grin and I don't even want to know the cause for it. Finally, he lets go of the plate and I get back to stacking them.
"I have an idea! Let's go find Saga and go spar a little bit," Briar says enthusiastically.
"You and Saga should just go ahead," I respond, still working. Briar snatches the glass from my hands.
"Elin, come on. It'll be fun. Besides, technically I can't go unless you let me," he insists. I sigh.
"Fine, but only for a little bit," I concede.
"Yes!" Briar punches a fist into the air.  He practically skips out of the meal hall and I trail a short distance behind. We find Saga and head to the weapons shed, which is actually one of the largest structures in the village. Briar takes a few swords from the wall and hands me one. I turn it over in my hand. It feels long and awkward. How on earth do people fight with these things? The handle is normal but instead of a blade, a long metal rod extends only a few feet out of the hilt. Briar notices me staring at it with uncertainty and swings it softly at the back of my leg. Even through my thick boots I feel the sting of the metal.
"Ow!" I yelp in pain. Saga starts laughing.
"Just enough pain to not want to get hit. Grab a shield," Briar explains with mock seriousness. I take one of the wooden shields from the wall. Saga elbows me in the side.
“Don’t look so excited,” she winks.
Saga and Briar rush up to the sparing ring that overlooks the harbor and I jog to catch up to them. I sit cross-legged at the edge of the bluff. Saga and Briar spar off for what feels like hours. They both laugh and fight, sparing no amount of pain. Both of their sleeves are tattered but neither of them stop. Finally, Briar swings down and hits Saga in the cheek with the rod. Saga immediately drops her weapon and grabs her face. Both Briar and I rush towards her. She kneels down in pain. I pry her hands away long enough to see the angry red line that crosses her face.
“Saga, are you alright?” I ask. She flinches away and stands to her feet. Briar steps closer to her and pulls her hands away from her face.
“I’m so sorry, Saga! Can I take you down to the Healer?” Briar asks quietly.
She gives him a lame smile.
“I’ll go. You and Elin have a little fun. I’ll be back in a little while,” Saga reassures. Briar doesn’t look happy with her choice but lets her go anyways. He picks up his shield and weapon and turns to me. I still kneel on the ground. I hope my expression doesn’t show the fear that takes hold of me. Spar Briar? Are you kidding me? I think I’d rather drown in the harbor.
“Let’s go, Elin. Don’t be a coward. I’ll go easy on you.”
I shrug my shoulders.
“Hurry it up! Weren’t you the one who was talking about how we need to make this quick?” Briar scolds.
“You’re right, we should be getting back to work.” I try to get out of it and start walking away from him. Briar catches my arm.
“Why won’t you fight me? You afraid princess?” he chuckles. I slouch my shoulders and sigh.
“I don’t know how,” I mutter.
Briar’s eyes widen and he laughs. “Tarben never taught you how to fight?” 
I cross my arms. “No, he was to busy teaching Gunnar.”
Briar can’t contain his laughter and it begins to irritate me very quickly. He finally notices I’m not amused and motions me into the ring. Briar holds out his sword and puts it into my hand.
“Do you want to learn?” he asks, now very serious. I nod my head. “Then you’re going to have to do exactly what I tell you. I watched Tarben teach people how to fight for years. He teaches strength and power. Östen on the other hand, he teaches people to fight with their minds.” Briar explains.
“Swing at me,” he instructs. I take my fighting stance, one of the few things Tarben had shown me how to do and swing down at Briars shoulder. He moves out of the way and comes towards me around the swing. The hard fist hits my side before I see it coming. I go crashing to the ground.
Briar chuckles above me.
“You know, I didn’t think anyone was this bad when they started. I stand corrected,” he says cruelly. I peer out from my mess of blond hair and see that he’s standing with his arms crossed just feet away. Slowly, I bring my hands underneath me and push myself to my feet.
“You agreed to teach me, not insult me.”
Briar starts walking down the path back to the village. I catch up to him.
“Please Briar?”
“No can do, Elin. I only have an hour a day max. To get anywhere with training, you need more than that,” Briar refuses.
“Briar, I can’t be that bad. How much time do we need?” I ask. Briar stops walking.
“I’ve been training almost every day since I was ten. That’s eight years and I’m still not as good as some of the other men. There’s no point in making your mother angry for what will amount to nothing,” Briar says.
“One hour! I can do some of your chores. And anything I can work on by myself, I’ll do. Please,” I beg.
Briar crosses his arms. “What’s in it for me?”
“I’ll…” I stammer. “I’ll talk to Singrid and see if she’ll let you go out when Östen returns in a month.”
“And if she doesn’t agree?”
“Then you can’t say I didn’t try,” I grin. I watch as Briar thinks it through for several moments before he holds out a hand. We shake.
“Deal, but no promises for training and I better not hear any complaining. For today, just work on sword forms. You look like a flapping duck when you swing a sword,” he laughs, already heading down the path once again.