THE VIKING PRINCESS

Escape

T'was a cold October morning I was awoken by the shuffling of my uneasy companion's feet across our recent camp. It had been days since we last saw familiar faces, days since a raid destroyed our village and uprooted me from comfort.

Not knowing where I am and the niggling feeling of my father's health, who refused to escape along with us. He opted to stay with his people to face the intruders and protect our land. I stood up to scowl at my companion. He was making me dizzy with his constant pacing.

"Bjorn! Stop yer pacing ye are disturbing my sleep, what is this incessant pacing that has kept me awake all evening?!"

"Lady Alfdis, my apologies, I did not intend to awake ye but the silence the past few hours is making me uneasy."

Bjorn has been with me ever since we were kids. He is five years older than me, since my birth he was my appointed protector. At a very young age he was trained and given the task to watch over just as his father Fergus was my father's protector. Bjorn would no doubt give up his life for my security and I trust his judgments.

"Then if that is the case it might be better to start moving and continue to head on west. Hopefully the villages there are still standing." And soon our long trek deeper into the woods began. My mind started to wander as we went deeper and deeper.

We live on an isle just northeast of Scotland, the land provides for us and there is naught we shall ask for. In the land of Nirvana life has been peaceful up until news of foreigners descending onto our land travelled . We know not what they came here for but they are a force to reckon, no village survived once they have passed through it.

They bring nothing but death, miles away you can smell it the murderous intent overflowing from their very veins. They wear it like a cloak, the fear that they impose on every village.

The more I thought about what they could have done the more anxious I become. What of my father? What of our village? What of our people? The women and children are they to be carried off like what happened in other villages. Those they believed are of some use carried to their ship never to be seen again but those too young and too old are left to fertilize the land.

I shudder, at the thought of how much blood will be spilled, my father's and our people's blood. I stare at Bjorn's muscular back. Will he ever forgive me for what I am about to do? I don't want to cause him pain nor have him feel guilty. But I must, I cannot live nor forgive myself if I didn't try.

"I'm sorry father," I muttered under my breath. This will not be the first time I disobeyed an order but I know he will understand as Bjorn will as well. Bjorn did not know what hit him as I clobbered him with all my might hoping he would just tumble down gracefully so as not to complicate my plan.

And I am thankful to the gods, with his guard down Bjorn never knew what hit him. I dragged the big oaf to a bushier area, where vegetation has taken over the land just in case those foreigners come this way he would still be safe.

"I'm sorry dear friend. No one else needs to get hurt." I started walking to what I believed was the right direction. Keeping to the shadows undetected, every slight movement has made me jumpy. I have never been to a real battle the closest I was, was when Bjorn along with the others trained and I tagged along.

As night fell I was already miles to where I left Bjorn, I started to make my camp for the night. I know he can't follow me I have made sure to cover my tracks. I lay down on a bed of leaves as I started to doze off images of my father and our village visited me. AT around dawn I woke up drenched in sweat, hoping my dream was just that, a dream never to become a reality. DEATH, I can still clearly hear the screams, smell the burnt flesh, pleas for survival.

I try to shake it off but the blood curling scream is even closer than before. I staggered moving to the darkest area of my camp. Fervently trying to hide and control the scream that was in my throat waiting to be released.

A thrashing body was being dragged to the nearby clearing, as the foreigners passed by I saw the glint of a sword. I knew that sword, I knew that crest. The torture went on one by one the fingers were being cut off and on top of that the soles of the prisoners feet were slowly being burned.

The tears running down my face I was not able to control, my hands I never removed from my mouth for fear I might let go of the scream lodged in my throat. They questioned the prisoner but not one word of betrayal did he utter. Painstakingly and with pleasure written all over their faces they dismembered him.

I was an audience to my friend's death. Did I do that to him?! Did I leave him to die? He did not deserve such death, no one actually does. These are monsters inhumane in every possible way. You can see the delight in their faces as they opened him up and gutted him.

The screams had ceased, I was already hoping for him to be dead I don't want him to live anymore. Please die already, blindly hoping so that he can be spared of the pain.

Oh Bjorn what have I done?!