Fault (Book 1 of the Vikings Series)

Chapter 37

Vern

I lay on my back in the cold cell. A small glimmer of light coming from the small opening in the ceiling. The light is soft and I guess it to be moonlight. Everything in the Rot is silent. The door at the end of the hall creaks open but I don’t move from my place.
Keys jangle in someone’s hand as they walk. Probably just another prisoner getting brought out for a trial or something.
The footsteps stop outside my cell. I prop myself up on one elbow and see King Rasmus staring down at me.
“Come with me,” he demands, opening the door of my cell. I stand up and follow him quietly. Rasmus leads me to the door of the Rot and peers out.
“What’s happening?” I ask.
“Shut up,” the King hisses. He pulls the large hood of his cloak over his head and slips through the door.
I follow him outside, we sneak through small allies heading towards the great hall. Once it’s in view, I realize instantly why Rasmus is hiding. The hall is filled with Saxon warriors. The King and Princess are among them.
“We need to get out of here. After the battle in the channel, they are not happy.”
Rasmus doesn’t wait for a response, even if I did have anything to say. He leads me around the back of the hall to a small trap door. The King pulls it open and drops down into the opening. I grab a small torch from the wall and follow him into the dark tunnel. We walk for a few moments in silence. Voices start to echo through the cave.
“They’re following us,” Rasmus whispers.
King Rasmus turns to me. His face is barely illuminated by the torch. He holds out a small dagger in between us.
“You must kill me,” Rasmus says in a chilling tone.
I take a step back, shaking my head.
“This is not your day to die,” my voice shakes. Rasmus grabs my hand and closes it around the dagger.
“Listen to me. This is the destruction that the Saxons will bring Fagerhult. Mikael was right, he always has been. He will listen to you, Mikael respects you. The people respect you.”
“There should be no respect for a murderer.”
Rasmus chuckles quietly. “You’ve never believed that.”
“I will not kill you,” I start walking away. “This is a coward’s death.”
“Vern. Do not expect me to watch Fagerhult fall to Christians. I don’t deserve Valhalla.”
“Fagerhult will not fall,” I respond, not looking back.
“You always have had the arrogance of a leader.”
“I am not arrogant,” I turn back to Rasmus.
“If that were true we wouldn’t be standing here.”
As much as I want to argue with Rasmus, I know it is true.
“Kill me,” the king says again. His voice is infuriatingly calm.
I twist the dagger in my hand, approaching slowly.
“I don’t want to live with this,” I admit.
“I am the one dying. Ever since the seer told me your name I knew I was dying. If only you could kill me the same way you were so ready to kill Mikael. This should be easy-”
Rasmus’ speech is cut off and he slumps to the floor. My hand falls limply to my side but not before the firelight glistens off my blood covered hand.
“There is nothing easy about anything I’ve been asked to do.”
I take a few steps away from the King’s body and look back one last time.
“You deserve Valhalla more than anyone, my friend.”
The walk out of the tunnels is something that seems to drag on for an eternity. I walk through the streets into the great hall. It’s filled with a mixture of Vikings and Saxons, most of whom I guess to have been fighting moments ago. No sounds are made, all eyes locked on me. I stop at the front of the room, turning to all the people.
I find the leader of the Saxon people with my eyes. Mikael stands near him. So does the Princess. She’d escaped from the boat after all.
I step forwards, glaring at their king.
“Leave this kingdom,” I growl. The leader steps forwards.
“King Rasmus and I have an agreement, one that will not be broken by a young warrior.”
I raise the dagger, now sticky with blood. I stab it into the wood of one of the pillars.
“Any agreement you had with Rasmus no longer exists.”
The king’s face falls and Mikael stares in disbelief.
“Leave Fagerhult!” I shout.
The King looks around, ready to address his army. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, the King starts walking slowly from the great hall. The army of Saxons follow him. As soon as only norsemen remain, Mikael is the first to stoop onto one knee. The crowd of warriors follow his example. All these people now look to me, the same way I had once followed King Rasmus. The blood on my hand reminds me of the horrible fate I had left my friend to, all because he thought I could best lead Fagerhult. We shall see.
All hail King Herreinn.