The Conquest: The Secret Will Kill Us

Viking painting by velespainter on Deviant Art

Germany, 780 AD

Kimla stared with apprehension at the viking in front of her who referred to himself as Gunnar of Ludak.

Her curiosity once again won over her need for self-preservation and she posed the question that was burning her once more. “Where have you come from? The east?”

“The North”. He grinned.

Joyous that she had managed to learn something from him, she continued hastily. “What’s it called?”

He surveyed her quietly.

“She clenched her teeth, frustrated. “Why have you come here?”

He rolled his eyes and sank down in a chair at the table. “If you’re going to keep asking me the same questions, it’s going to be a really long night”.

She pursed her lips. “You haven’t given me answers-“

He sighed, heavily. “Have you ever killed a man?”

“Of course”, she answered, warily.

“Do you raid?”

“Yes-“

“Why do you look at me with such judgement when you live the same life I live?” He raised his eyebrows at her, expectantly. “Or is it because this time…it’s your people, your land?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I have the right to protect my home-“

“As does everyone-“ He agreed. “Even those you choose to attack-“

“What?”

“You don’t remember me-“

She stared at him, incredulously focusing on his full beard, tight muscles and intense eyes. “No-“

“I was younger then-“ He pulled on his beard, thoughtfully. “Perhaps eleven-“

Kimla bit her lip, anxiously. What was he talking about?

“You were a young woman eager to prove yourself during your first raid, I’m sure-“

Kimla swallowed under his dark scrutiny. “Do you remember the boy you killed?”

Kimla’s heart beat frantically as he rose from his seat.

“No!” She gasped.

“You embedded your axe in his lower back-“He stepped towards her and she clenched her fists in preparation.

Unexpectedly, he turned his back on her and pulled the leather wrap around his hips down to expose his lower back and the smallest amount of his backside. There across his lower spine was a thick, aged scar.

He smirked, turning back to face her. “In reality you’ve failed to kill me three times-“

Kimla was determined not to run even though every ounce of her being was willing her to. “You killed my friends”, she spat at him. “We’re even”.

“Not exactly”. By the throat, he pushed her roughly into the wooden wall; dust traveled into the air as she made impact with it. “Unfortunately I’m prone to holding a grudge -“

She struggled against his python-like hands, furiously.

“You should’ve killed me-“he hissed. He squeezed her throat too hard for her to speak. Black spots flickered across her vision and she started to feel faint. “I might have a proposition for you-“She was barely aware of his words as she felt she was starting to lose consciousness. “I won’t kill you if-“ He released his choke-hold on her throat and she coughed, relieved to clear her breathing passages. “-you accompany me to Norway-“

“What?” she demanded, hoarsely.

“You can earn your life by fighting under my command-“

Kimla gaped at him.

“Or you could attempt to kill me again-“ He gave a throaty laugh.

“I was ordered to kill you”, Kimla said, stiffly. “Something you seem to know nothing about gallivanting about by yourself-“

He grinned, amused. “I have no reason to follow orders anymore-“ He sighed, impatiently. “Let me make this clear for you…you fight under my command in Norway, or I kill you—the choice is yours”.

She squared her shoulders. “The choice is simple then”, she said, confidently. “I will not follow your orders-“

He nodded, curtly. “I understand”. He pulled his axe free from his leather wrap and swung it twice in the air. “Arm yourself, woman-“

She still had no idea where her weapons were but she knew the fight would most likely end in a stalemate again. She knew she should run if she didn’t want to die but she couldn’t bring herself to act so cowardly. Gunnar shook his head and sighed; before she could defend herself he knocked her on the side of the head with the blunt side of the axe…

The crisp, chilly wind woke Kimla. Her head ached painfully and she blinked away the tears in her eyes. She could smell salt in the air and she swayed from side to side inexplicably though she was lying deadly still.

She was alerted to nearby voices, grumbling but she dared not open her eyes in fear.

“Raise the sails!”

The sails? She was on a boat!

“Land!”

How long had she been asleep on the boat? Kimla opened one eye to see that she was indeed on a boat. The boat was abuzz with men and she was lying in the corner on the hard wooden deck. Abruptly, someone squatted beside her.

She looked up warily to see Gunnar smirking down at her. “Welcome to Norway!”

Kimla stared at him with a mixture of shock and loathing yet said nothing.

“Welcome home, Lord”. A man dressed in sheep skin and leather stood beside him.

LORD?

With dread Kimla realised Gunnar was a chief and cursed her fate, silently.

The Conquest

 

Viking painting by velespainter on Deviant Art

Germany, 780 AD

He stepped out of the mist, roaring ferociously and beating his fists upon his bare chest, sprinkled lightly with dark hair. His piercing eyes sparkled with viciousness as he glared intently at the group of men surrounding him. A fierce, thick beard covered his wide jaw and slightly chubby cheeks. He was inhumanly tall with broad shoulders and large hands that held an enormous axe that he swung carelessly around in his hand. His long dark hair was shaved clean at the sides and hung in a single, long braid that swung against his neck with every turn of his head. The leather wrap around his hips covered only that which was most important to him, leaving the rest of his skin exposed to the elements in a silent cry of confidence. He bared his teeth at his attackers.
Who would be the first to step forward and swing their sword at the gigantic viking?

Kimla looked around at the men flanking her, all shrinking back with fear. She would not leave here without killing the viking. She had risen that morning with that sole purpose. She had pulled on her leather armour and braided her long auburn hair in preparation for the battle. Once again it seemed she was going to have to lead the men. Stepping back, quickly green eyes shining with anticipation, she unsheathed her sword and swung it at the viking’s thick neck. He blocked the blow easily with his ax and knocked her off balance. Only then did the remainder of the men spring into action. Kimla pulled herself off the ground as fast as she could and struck a blow to the viking’s kidneys. He fell down hard on his knees. The men crowded around him, raising their swords but Kimla called for them to stop. They retreated, obediently as she stepped forward and raised her sword, holding it steady against the viking’s main artery. She looked momentarily into his hard eyes and could suddenly not bring herself to swing the sword.

Noticing her hesitation, he jumped up from the ground and struck her on the back of the head with the blunt side of his axe…

Kimla’s head was pounding when she awoke in the dimly lit room. She reached slowly to touch the back of her head and felt it tightly bandaged with cloth. Ignoring the pain in her aching head, she looked around for her companions but instead found the massive viking sitting at a heavy wooden table, slurping something, loudly from a bowl. Her breath hitched in her throat as she stared at his strong back with a mixture of fear and determination. He had taken her weapons; she was defenseless. She rose, taking hold of a wooden chair and took soft steps towards the viking. She raised it above her head and prepared to bring it down over the viking’s back.

“Sit down”, he said in her own language. “Have some food-”
Caught-off guard by his words, she paused and he easily knocked her off her feet with a sweep of his foot. Dazed, she pulled herself back onto her feet by supporting her weight on the table.
“Sit down”, he repeated, more forcefully that time.
Kimla swallowed, tightly. “You bandaged my head?”
He nodded, unsmiling and stuffed a piece of bread in his mouth.
“I’m not hungry-”
“Eat”, he commanded.
“You’ve poisoned it”.
He chuckled, throatily. “If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead”.
That was true; she had been knocked out for sometime and he had no reason to bandage her head if he was going to kill her.
Still anxious, she sat down at the table and drew the bowl of broth closer to her.
She swallowed a few mouthfuls before asking the question that was tormenting her. “What do you want?”
“Do I have to want something?”
She frowned, suspiciously. “Every man wants something-”
“Women do not?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Am I your prisoner?”
“You’re free to leave”.

Kimla watched him but didn’t move. She had too many questions to ask before she left. “Who are you?”
“My name is-”
“Not your name”. She tutted. “What’re you doing here? Where do you come from? Who are you?”
“Where I come from is of no importance”, he replied, swigging from a clay mug filled with pale ale. “As for what I’m doing here–we plunder when and where we see fit. Who am I? I think you know the answer to that-” He grinned.
“Who does this house belong to?”
He shrugged. “It was empty when I entered”.
She shook her head. “You take whatever you want”.
“Correct”. He raised his cup in a mock salute.
“You have no regard for life-”
“I kill only those who attack me”.
“I attacked you!” She crossed her arms, defiantly. “Why didn’t you kill me?”
“Do you want to die?”
“No”.
“Then stop asking questions to provoke me”. He rose and to Kimla’s surprise started washing his bowl and cup.
She finished her broth and watched with shocked intrigue as he washed her bowl as well.

“Where are my companions?” she asked, nervously.
“They attacked me”, he answered, nonchalant.
She clenched her fist in rage. “You killed them all?” Before he could reply, she let out a scream and launched herself at him, her fist making contact with the side of his jaw. She punched him twice in the stomach before he shoved her back. Once on her feet, she launched at him again hitting him square in the nose and hearing a very distinct crack as it broke.
He let out an almighty roar as he grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed her into one of the wooden columns holding up the hut. The wind was knocked out of her as her back made contact with it. Before she could snatch her breath back, he pressed his lips violently against hers. She pressed against him with her weight but he refused to budge as he deepened his kiss. She slapped him around the face and thrust her knee in-between his legs.
Letting out a cry of pain, he stepped backwards and she kicked him over and onto his back. She grabbed the knife from the wooden table and jumped on top of him, holding it to his throat and baring her teeth at him.
He grinned at her, infuriatingly as she pushed the knife against his skin.
“What’re you waiting for?” He taunted her.
She hesitated again, staring down at him unable to slice the blade into his throat. She shouted, angrily and threw the knife at the wall.
He threw her off him and rose to his feet. “That’s the second time you’ve failed to kill me–” He laughed, deeply and offered her his hand. “Perhaps it is time I introduced myself–I am Gunnar of Ludak”.
Why couldn’t she kill him?