Fault (Book 1 of the Vikings Series)

Chapter 11

 Vern holds out a hand and helps me to my feet.
“Alright Shorty, let’s get you back to the ship,” he coaxes me forwards. I try to wipe some of the grime from my face but realize that I’m completely soaked in the man’s blood. Pain starts burning from somewhere on my thigh and I guess that at least some of the blood is my own. I limp along, behind Vern, up the ridge the way we had come. The walk back to our small boat is one of the most painful things I’ve ever had to endure. Once we get to the shore, Vern and Briar push the boat into the water. I climb in and sit rigidly in the center. As they row, I’m hit with how terrible we all look. All of us are covered in dirt and blood, looking closer to dead then alive. When we reach the side of Östen’s ship, a rope ladder is lowered down. I climb the best I can using only one arm and fall unceremoniously onto the deck. Briar mutters to himself, pulling his body over the railing.
Vern is the next on deck. 
“Let’s go. There’s some salves and stuff to get cleaned up below deck.”
I follow without any protest. Any movement of my arm sends spikes of pain that cloud my head. I make the mistake of biting my lip to distract myself from the pain and taste blood almost instantly.
Vern takes me down another room I have yet to explore with Briar in tow. Large barrels of something line the wall. The room smells musty, like material that’s been soaked in water for too long. Vern tosses me a rag and opens two of the barrels.
“Spring water,” he explains. Vern dunks his rag into the water and starts washing the grime off his skin and clothes. I follow suit and scrub my clothes. Briar is the first to finish and leaves the room, mumbling something about going to find food. I turn away to wash my face off and I can’t help but feel Vern’s eyes drilling into my back.
“Where’d you learn how to fight like that?” Vern asks. I shrug my shoulders. “Hey, if I’m going to let you off the hook about earlier, you could at least give me an answer.”
I still don’t turn around. The sound of sliding wood fills the space as my friend replaces the cover on the barrel. A vision of my vest that I’d thrown on the other lid flashes in my head. I spin just in time to see Vern toss it towards me. As he does, something falls from one of the pockets. The small metal object is the first to clatter to the ground followed by the chain. I freeze in my place. 
Vern stoops down and picks it up, dangling it in the air by it’s chain.
“This is… Is this mine?” he questions. Vern starts to say something but hesitates. “I thought this was back in Havredal with Elin.”
I look down at the floor and watch the light of the lantern dance on Vern’s leather boots. He takes a couple steps towards me. Vern pushes the hair out of my face and gently pushes my chin up to see my face.
“Elin?”
I bite my lip and nod slightly. His eyes fill with pity for a moment before he yanks his hand away as if I were some type of poison. Vern moves to the opposite side of the room, as far away from me as possible. Vern strikes his fist on the wall of the supplies room. I’ve never seen him so angry. Every bit of the friend I had known in Havredal is now replaced with.. I’m not even sure.
“Please, Vern-” I start to move towards him.
“What are you doing, Elin?” he hisses.
“I never meant for this to happen,” I plead.
“Stop lying! As if. What do you want me to do? Lie? Like you’ve been doing to everyone?” he shouts.
“No!” I exclaim. “I mean, I’m not sure,” I stammer.
“What do I do then? Östen, Tarben, Gunnar, I’m assuming you want none of them to know. How do I do that without lying?!”
“I don’t know!” I yell. I push some of the hair from my face. “I can’t stay in Havredal,” I whisper.
“Why not?” he asks, now less angry and more concerned, probably with my sanity.
“Shield maidens, Antrapar, whatever happened to Limerick, why Singrid won’t let anyone speak a word about them.”
Recognition shows on my friend’s face.
“Even you won’t tell me about them,” I scoff. Vern looks pained.
“I don’t know much about Antrapar or anything about Limerick. The only thing that isn’t allowed to be mentioned in Havredal are shield maidens.”
“Why?! That’s what I mean! The secrets. More and more secrets,” I struggle through the words. The pain and anger combined now make it hard to focus.
Vern must suddenly notices the amount of pain I’m in. Realization fills his eyes.
“Raid. Oh gods, Elin. The girl, you were the one who saved her,” Vern whispers. “And I.. I’m so sorry, Elin. Are you.. are you alright?”
I shake my head for a moment before noticing just how ‘not ok’ I truly am. Raid. The fight. The man I had probably killed. The true brutality of raid finally hits me harder than any fist I’ve ever been struck with. Tears start flooding down my face. Vern moves towards me and pulls me into his arms. I bury my face in his chest and try not to sob like a child even though that’s what I feel like doing. Vern cuddles me close and leans down to kiss my head.
I’m not sure how long we say like that. Long enough for the tears to stop. Vern guides me gently to the ground and rummages through a few crates, coming back with a few long strips of fabric. I pull my sleeve up and he starts wrapping them around my elbow.
“So, you never answered my question. Where’d you learn how to fight?” Vern asks.
“Briar, sort of.”
Vern chuckles softly. “I’m surprised he was even paying attention back then.”
“Where’d he learn it from?” I ask.
Vern ties off the last strip and looks up to meet my glance.
“It’s not my place to say,” he answers. I roll my eyes and sigh. Vern lays a hand quickly on my knee.
“Elin, please. Don’t make me go back further on my word.”
I slouch my shoulders. “Would you even tell me if I asked?”
Vern purses his lips. His touch becomes stiff for a moment before responding. “If you asked it, yes. I would tell you but I would hope that you care for me enough that you wouldn’t make me do that.”
Vern waits a moment for my response. I don’t know what to say. I can’t very well ask him to tell me. That would be below me, despite everything I'd done in the past week. Vern grins for a moment and stands.
“We should get going. The other men will be calling us into the harbor soon,” Vern turns for the door. “Oh, and by the way, be careful up on deck when we’re sailing with Tarben. He’s always watching.”
“I’m so afraid,” I joke. Vern rolls his eyes and ushers me out the door. The ship is quiet as we wait for the signal from shore. Even the deck seems empty, free of the several smaller boats that usually line the deck.
Vern closes the wooden hatch behind us and heads for the helm. I follow.
“Hey Shorty, how you doing?” Briar jabs. Vern punches Briar in the side.
“You’re pathetic, Briar,” Vern hisses.
“Oh, no,” Briar mocks. “What did I do to upset thy greatness?”
"You know very well what I'm talking about," Vern answers, already turning his attention to the helm. "Raise the sails."
"Come on, Shorty, our work to the great and powerful has only just begun."
Vern coughs dryly. "Master Viking Briar can't handle pulling a sail up by his lonesome?"
I can't help but chuckle at their mutual hatred. To be honest, I'm not sure if they've ever gotten along. They don't fight each other, not like Gunnar always has, but their relationship definitely boarder lines the less pleasant side of toleration. I hop down from the helm and grab one of the long ropes with one hand. Briar shoots Vern a smug look and follows my example. I catch Vern's stare briefly, long enough to see the look of worry in his eyes. Who knows what he's actually thinking. There are about five hundred things I should be worried about right now: my safety, my sanity, the fact that there's no way I can go even remotely easy on my body despite my injuries. Still though, I feel zero inclination to acknowledge any of these but that doesn't mean that I'll stop Vern from doing so. With the way Briar's been acting lately, he could very well be the only person around here who cares about saving a tiny Thrall named Ashen.