A Whisper to the North

Chapter XXI ✠ The Soul Trade

Una and Frey were being confronted with a group from the North Mercian army. This army was particularly nasty to Cynan. Though they had a good relationship for the most part with West Mercia, it was the north and East Anglia that they had issues with after Cynan cut ties with all the Danes. Not only have they been pushing their borders to the north in York, but as well into the Cambrian mountains.

Una had tried for years, even when her older brother Eurion was King, to establish new trade routes. They took this as an invitation to take some of their lands instead. The king of the north has never replied to Una's requests. However, the King in the west, in Wessex, was hot toward her and her kingdom. Thus, Una has been able to get goods that otherwise were unavailable in the north to the Danes and the east Anglicans.

Una felt Frey squeeze her waist harder. She knew he was just as surprised as she was. Una reached down as she stared at the man with the forked red beard, looking for her sword. Suddenly she remembered that her sword was tucked away with Roosa. Instant regret began to flood her mind, and she felt vulnerable for the first time in a very long time. She may have just jeopardized Frey's life and her own.

"What be your business here, lassie?" The man said in old English, taking his short sword out and pointing it at Una.

There was no escape. She couldn't outrun their horses with an old Gypsy horse. Una bit her lip and said a silent prayer. She prayed for protection, wisdom, and above all, the forgiveness of Yvar. She hoped he was safe, even if he did flee and abandon Una. She believed that she deserved it, but not Frey. He did nothing. If anyone needed protection and deserved to escape, it would be him.

"I was just on my way back home from a bit of dealing. As you can see, I have bought myself a slave from the northern kingdom." Una quickly improvised as she switched dialects.

"Unfortunately, my guide has found himself lost away from us. Thus, we cannot seem to find our way, and it would do us a great service if you'd let us pass."

The man with the forked beard grinned. His teeth were all crooked and yellow.

"Aye, but you came from the western mountains of the north. We have been watching ye, and methinks that you are fibbing us." He said with a thick accent.

Una realized that these were the sick bastards that had shot Balder dead to stop their progress east.

"Please, let us pass. We have food, water, even gold if you like!" Frey interjected.

Una froze that idiot, she thought. How could he speak old English so well like herself? She was hoping he wouldn't understand, but then again, he is the son of a king. You must know many languages. This time was not the time, however. He was foolish to say such a thing. Not only have they taken one of their horses, now they will take everything they have, and Una and Frey will be forced back into the mountains again.

"Gold, ye say?" The man's face lit up, and he trotted his horse right next to Una.

His freckles coiled into his wrinkles, and a savage-looking smile consumed him. His pale blue eyes sent a shiver down Una's spine as she realized they were about to be robbed blind, and there was nothing she could do. He had three other men with him, equally as terrifying as he was.

"Yes, not much, but it should be worth an entire paddock full of sheep," Frey said, bending forward and opening up the right horn bag.

"Frey, no!" Una said, grabbing his hand.

But before Una could look at him, the forked bearded man grabbed Una's hand.

"Not so fast, lassie. I can get it myself." He laughed.