A Viking's Rage

Chapter 3

Aiya didn't recall the battle, as she was lifted off the ground, her hands bound behind her back, her eyes moved across the scene before her. She could smell the village burning, bodies scattered on the ground, people she had known for as long as she could remember. The rusty smell of blood was embedded in her nose, as she stared up at the sky, watching as it darkened.

"Svaergangr." Dagr spoke to himself, looking at the sky. He stared a moment longer before bringing his gaze down to her. "Nafn?" He said.

When she did not answer, he repeated his question in English, "Name?" His accent wasn't as thick as his companion, which surprised her.

"Aiya." She answered, coldly, remember the pain in her ribs.

"Hvem er gutten?" He pointed to where Noah's lifeless body lay, she assumed he was asking who he was.

"No one." Her gaze was cold, as she peered into his almost black eyes.

"Are you frightened?" He smirked, staring at her with devilish intent.

"There is little I am frightened of now." She answered with as much strength in her voice as she could muster. He gave her a strange look but they continued to walk towards the dragon like ships her and Noah had first seen. She could feel the hot flames of the burning village on her skin, the stench of flesh and decay beginning to form around them. Her eyes fell on a small boy, perhaps three years of age. He was screaming, as he clung to his mothers lifeless body. She recognized the woman, she was the blacksmiths wife, A strand of her ebony hair covered her blood stained face, a large gash cut into her skull, which was surly the cause of her death. Many years ago, in secret, the blacksmith had taught her a few thing's about weapons, and how to use them if she ever needed too. She doubted he had survived the attack himself, and knew his boy would surely starve to death if he was left behind. Anger pinged in her heart for the Pagans. How could they leave a child behind to die?

She was thrown down on the deck of the ship onto her stomach; the force knocking the wind out of her. Dagr put his black studded boot between her shoulder blades, the pressure was unbearable. He drew a small dagger from his belt and held it to her throat, "Bo hvor du er."  He bent down as he whispered in her ear, before moving to help one of his companions with their own hoard.

She didn't understand his words but she knew not to cross him. So she remained still on her stomach, as not to draw attention to herself, her hands still bound behind her.

 After what seemed like forever, the long boats began to set sail. It was a strange feeling, she had always wanted to leave York, but she never thought it would be like this.

She rolled onto her side, and gazed around the ship, it didn't seem very big. There were more men than she knew how to count, gigantic men. Many of them wore thick armor over some sort of animal skin and furs. The man called Dagr wore bones on his dark leather vest, trophies she guessed, for he seemed like a fierce warrior that had seen many battles and enjoyed them. He wore his black hair in a long braid down his back, the sides of his head were shaved and a dragon tattoo outlined one side of his skull. His features made for a handsome man, but his eyes gave him away. They were as black as his hair, and clothing, smeared paint of the same color encased them. She had never seen anyone like him before, and his mere presence sent chills down her spine.

As for the man called Ragda, he wasn't as big as the others, but no doubt he was just as fierce. His blonde hair was cut to his shoulders, and like the other man the sides of his head were shaved except he had no tattoo, he kept his hair pulled back into a knot at the back of his head. A scar stretched from his neck to just under his jaw as though someone had tried to cut his throat, it added to his hard appearance. His eyes were the deepest blue she had ever seen, and there was a light in them that confused her as she watch the way he surveyed his surroundings.

"Vi kommer Hjem! This raid has been prosperous, the Jarl will be pleased." Ragda yelled to his crew. As he moved closer to the women they had captured, some were bound and gagged, and his eyes caught Aiya's again. "Vaenn," He said looking at Dagr. "Nafn?" He asked.

"Aiya." Dagr replied.

Ragda narrowed his eyes at her, his lips turned up into a half smirk. He moved towards her, the heavy thud of his boots pounding on the wood as he walked. He reached down and grabbed her arm, lifting her off the deck of the ship. She could see Dagr looking on at the scene, watching as Ragda lead her away towards the hold of boat.

They disappeared beneath the ship, into a small space with only enough room to store supplies and maybe a few bodies.

"You're hurting me." Aiya shouted, frightened of his strength.

She was cut off by him slamming her roughly against the side of the ship, her bonds cutting deep into her wrists as they were crushed between her body and the wall behind her. She winced in pain, but only for a moment, she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her hurt.

He ran a single finger down her cheek, as his eyes raked over her face. "You're very beautiful." He said, as if he was surprised.

"What has that to do with anything?" She said. "Release me." She demanded, as she began to fight against his hold on her.

"You think you can make demands?" He chuckled. "If I want you, there would be nothing anyone can do to stop me." His mouth turned up into a cocky smirk, as he noticed the panic in her eyes.

She stopped fighting to glare at him, she wanted to slap him, but she couldn't free her hands.

"I like your spirit." He continued. His eyes laughed at her, as he leaned in closer to her face. "Aiya Den Vaenn." He whispered.

She could feel his warm breath on her skin, he smelled of honey and leather and it distracted her for a moment, a pleasant scent to her. "I don't understand what you are saying." She said, finally.

"Aiya The Beautiful." He repeated in English before releasing her suddenly.

He forced her back to the surface of the ship, and a faint breeze blew past them, the crisp air felt good to her, for in their brief moment, she had found her cheeks warmed with a flush.

Never had she seen men like Ragda, or Dagr before and their ferocity both frightened and intrigued her.

Ragda stopped her in their tracks, removing a small blade from his thigh. She held her breath for a moment, unsure of what he would do. He chuckled again at her reaction as he moved around behind her. She felt the coldness of the blade on the skin of her wrists as he cut her bonds away, freeing her aching hands. He pointed her body in the direction he wanted her to go and she reluctantly moved away from him.

She took her spot next to the other women captives, tucking her knees to her chest. The hard wood under her bottom pained her, much like the rest of her body, but she was tired. She closed her eyes, as she listened to the quiet sobs of the other captives, and the soft crashing of the waves against the boat, she felt the rolling of the ship as it glided through the water, rocking her deeper into a trance. She wouldn't open her eyes again for a long while, she would dream of better days.