Land of Fury, page 14
I watch as the other man looks around, his scarred face and dark, lowered brow terrifying. My heart pounds in my ears, and I begin to panic.
“That way,” Scar Face says, pointing in my direction, and the other one rises to his feet.
They draw closer, and I have mere seconds before it is too late to run. With my back against the boulder, I nock an arrow into place. I have never killed a person, but before I can think too much about it, or let any misgivings form, I stand and aim for the man closest to me. His heavy clothes and thick leather armor block most of him . . . save for his neck. I let loose my arrow as he notices me. The moment he falls, Scar Face will see me and descend with his blade in hand.
Despite my nerves, the arrow is true and lodges in the man’s neck. He grabs for it, blood seeping from the wound and between his fingers as he gurgles for breath. When Scar Face spots me, I’ve already nocked another arrow into place, and with an exhale, I let it loose and hit the second brute in the eye.
There’s a thunk, a grunt, and a look of dread as he grabs his face.
I’m frozen in shock and horror as both bodies collapse into the snow, but there is no time for waffling or regret as the sound of Karra’s whimpers meet my ears.
“No,” I breathe. Running through the men’s tracks, I double back for the village. Fear, not for me but for Karra, is a clawing, gripping beast as I dip between trees and bound around boulders, trying to remain unseen by any lurking men I’m not privy to. All I can think is what Harald will do to her in order to find me.
I thought I was ready to face the repercussions of my actions, but I find, in this moment, I could not live with myself if something happened to Karra because of me.
When I see the toppled chimney, I stop at the edge of the woods, chest heaving as I search for Harald.
“—tell me where the princess is and I will not harm you.” Lies drip from Harald’s voice, and I follow the sound toward the stables. “You have my word.”
I creep closer for a better view, ducking between rickety remains. A towering, formidable man comes into view first, his hands gripped around Karra’s throat as she hits at him, fighting against the brute’s hold to no avail.
“Point,” Harald commands, pressing the blade of his dagger into her cheek. “Point in the direction the princess went. You will save me time, is all, because I know she is here. I’ve seen both sets of tracks.”
Two? Doesn’t he mean three sets of horse tracks?
The towering man squeezes Karra’s throat tighter, her face turning red as Harald pricks her cheek with the tip of the blade. Blood wells to the surface.
“Enough!” I command, coming out from behind the rubble, my arrow aimed directly at Harald. His head snaps to me, his eyes alight with amusement as a fiendish smile curves his lips.
“Call your man off my lady’s maid, Lord Harald, and I will not run you through with my arrow.”
He chuckles at that. “Those are such violent words for such a lovely princess. Are you sure you have it in you for such things? Perhaps we should see.” He tosses the dagger from one hand to the next, as if it is merely a toy.
“Perhaps you should ask your men in the woods.” I sneer. “Oh wait, they are already dead.” The seething words come so easily, I barely recognize my voice.
Harald’s smirk wavers ever so slightly, and I can tell he’s not sure if he should believe me. “Scarred brow and cheek,” I say, recalling the odious men’s faces. “I put an arrow through his eye. The other one wasn’t as lucky, though. The arrow in his throat was a bit more torturous.” I shrug. “I will admit, I’m still getting used to this brutal game you all play. But I am learning.”
Harald glances at his man, whose hold has not loosened from Karra. I don’t know what their exchange is, but the towering brute doesn’t relent in the slightest, and I’m afraid Karra will pass out if this drags on much longer.
“Let her go,” I demand.
“Or what?” Harald taunts. “You will kill me, too?” He shakes his head. “No, princess, because I have twelve men waiting at the edge of the woods with the command to raise an army against your mother—your entire kingdom—in my name, should anything happen to me. And believe me, my sweet, they will. You are not the only one who hates your mother.”
My face falls as I feel the tides turning.
“I have not gotten to be the Chieftain of Northhelm because of my good looks, princess. At least, not only for that reason.” His grin widens. “I have amassed a great army, one your mother desperately needs in her good graces, which is why she has given you to me.”
I shake my head. “I will not go with you.”
“So you say, but I imagine the softhearted Princess Thora would not want hundreds of men and women—and children, of course—to be slaughtered, and that’s what will happen, I promise you. All because she did not want to marry the chieftain of the greatest city in Norseland.”
“You’re a monster,” I tell him, shaking my head again.
He laughs. “Gods and monsters, that is all this world is now, princess.”
I can feel the ferocity draining from me, defeat almost numbing in its place.
“Come on now. I will tell Brutus to let your lady go. But you are mine. And so, you are coming with me. Even if I have to tie you up and drag you.” A salacious grin engulfs his face, and his eyes gleam wickedly. “Rest assured, I would love nothing better than for you to fight me. Even if I have little time for games at the moment.”
Karra’s face turns purple, her eyes wide and shining with tears.
I knew it would not be easy, that I might be captured and was risking Karra’s life in bringing her with me. I knew the cost and seized it anyway. I told myself I was prepared for this. But being in this village of death and ash, seeing what my mother has already done to this kingdom, I cannot live with myself if Harald’s wrath descended on Norseland too, just to teach me a lesson.
Fate, it seems, has caught up with me, and as Karra’s flailing and hitting at Brutus wanes, I can’t stomach it any longer, and a sob escapes me.
“Princess,” Harald growls, growing impatient. “My men only await a single word from me—”
“Do you mean these men?” Zander’s voice ricochets through the woods. Harald spins as I lunge forward, able to see the huntsman as he steps out with his seven horsemen. Zander, Reider, Fiske, Gunhild—all of them carry the heads of Harald’s slacken-faced warriors. “As you can see, they are dead.” Zander smirks. “And now you will join them.”
Harald and Brutus barely recover from their shock as Karra tears herself from Brutus’s hold and scurries away, gasping for breath and stumbling over her own feet as she runs to me in the thick snow.
Having never seen a decapitated man before, I still at the sight of so many at once—Elof and Dane holding up one in each of their hands. The heads are yellowed with glazed-over eyes and pallid skin as blood drips out of them.
Zander tosses a warrior’s head at Harald’s feet. “You have nothing left to bargain with,” he taunts.
For once, Harald looks affected, as if he’s very aware Zander is right, and there is little he can do to save his own skin with the infamous huntsman and his seven renowned horsemen before him.
But Harald, determined as ever, recovers quickly, and his smirk settles back into place. “You would not go against your queen’s orders and kill me, huntsman.” He wags his thick finger at Zander. “Even if I know you wish to. She would not want me harmed. Her precious alliance—”
“I do not care in the slightest about the queen’s alliance,” Zander seethes, and faster than any of us can register what he’s doing, he draws his infamous war scythes from his back strap—his Truth Seekers—and they sail through the air before Harald can blink.
Harald’s eyes go wide as one slices through his leather vest and lodges in his chest. He gapes down at it. The other plunges into Brutus’s stomach. Neither has time to lift a shield or draw a sword, and as Harald’s fingers loosen around his dagger and it drops from his hands, I know he is dead.
One of Elof’s arrows whirs through the air and hits Brutus in the heart, quickening his death. Both he and Harald fall to their knees. Blood seeps into the surrounding snow, lifeless heaps on the earth.
I stare blankly at their bodies, my mind trying to understand what’s happened—how Zander and his horsemen are here. How in a matter of moments I’ve seen four men die, and the decapitated heads of many others.
“It seems you have gotten lost, princess,” Zander says, staring at me as he pulls his scythes from the men’s bodies.
I don’t know what to say in my disbelief, but as Karra touches the tender flesh at her throat beside me, all of my attention shifts to her. “Are you okay?” I breathe, scouring her up and down for what else Harald might’ve done.
Karra nods, swallowing thickly with a wince. “I—”
“Ready the horses!” Zander calls to his men. He looks at Reider specifically and gestures for him to do another sweep of the woods. “None of his men leave this place alive, or all of our efforts were for nothing.”
Reider nods, his face as grave as I’ve ever seen it. He strides toward the rest of the horsemen, heading back to where I assume their horses are posted in the woods.
They might be ready to leave, but I’m still trembling in place. I’ve heard stories about Zander. I know what he’s done at my mother’s command. But I have never seen him kill a man in front of me or heard such menace in his voice. Suddenly, he’s not Zander at all; he’s every ounce the warrior he’s known for. And he’s going to force me back to my mother, like the loyal pet he is.
Zander stalks toward me. “Princess—”
“You will have to drag me home,” I say in a rush, collecting my bow, because now that I have tasted freedom, I can’t bear the thought of going back to captivity. “I will not return with you any other way.”
Zander stops in front of me, his blue eyes tired, yet I’ve never seen them clearer or more assessing as they scan me from head to toe. Feeling Karra’s gaze on me as well, I straighten, standing my ground despite the manic thrumming of my heart against my sternum. “Harald may be dead, huntsman,” I explain, “but it changes nothing. My mother will force me to marry the next monster who pops up in his place—all to keep the south at her side.” I shake my head. “I will not go back there.” My fingers ache, gripping my bow so tightly.
Zander’s head lists to the side, as if he’s gauging my sincerity, but his expression gives nothing away. “Your mother is dying, princess.” He says the words so cautiously, it’s as if he thinks they might break me—that they will change anything.
“And I am supposed to weep?” I scoff. Though I should feel a pang of remorse, I shake my head.
“You already know she is ailing?” Zander’s eyes narrow. “And still, you left?”
“My only regret is that I did not leave sooner,” I confess. “Because had I known she would make me marry a monster, knowing she could never protect me from him, I would have.”
“When she is gone, princess, someone will need to rule—”
I laugh at that. “Have you not heard, huntsman? That is what Siggy is for. She will be queen, and my mother has done everything to ensure the entire kingdom knows it.”
“And you think your sister is the best choice to rule the kingdom?”
I glare at him. “Choice? You make it sound like I have any opinion or say in the matter. Besides,” I say with a humorless laugh, “Siggy better be, or what has my mother been working so tirelessly for all these years?” But the longer Zander stares at me with such an unreadable expression, the more unsettled I feel. “If I am not mistaken, huntsman, you sound as if you are less certain.” Such words, should he confess them, would be borderline treason.
“You are Norseland’s princess—”
“Spare princess,” I correct. “And I am only a political pawn as long as my mother draws breath. Let the queen and Siggy tend to the kingdom they’ve all but burned to ash.” I gesture to the village, suddenly fuming. “I will have no part in destroying what little these people have left.”
Zander glares at me as if he can’t believe I would be so foolhearted. But he says nothing more about it. He simply stares at me, and I squirm in his silence. I don’t think its admiration in Zander’s eyes so much as surprise, but there’s a fleeting change in his expression—a clench of his jaw—before his gaze sweeps the burned village.
“So be it.” He moves toward us, reaching out as I brace myself for him to grab hold of me, or knock me out and drag me home. But an unyielding grip never comes because he reaches for Karra instead. He holds her chin between his fingers and angles her face up so that he can see her neck more clearly. “I will ask Fiske to see to your neck,” he says softly.
“I am well,” Karra assures him, her gaze unwavering. “Just a little shaken.” The look that passes between the two of them gives me pause. A look of familiarity, like they know each other more intimately than servant and huntsman. It’s friendly, somewhat affectionate.
I frown. Had I never seen them interact until now? Had I never seen Zander and Karra together? I watch as a silent conversation passes between them before Zander strides away.
“What—where are you going?” I call after him.
“A princess must eat,” Zander calls back, and he grabs two of the decapitated heads from the snow. “Remove the bodies,” he commands Ferguson, the head of the castle guard, as the others finish their sweep of the area. “We stay here tonight.”
Ferguson nods at Zander’s command without question, while I, on the other hand, wonder what Zander is playing at. He would never heed my wishes over my mother’s—he has made that painfully clear over the years. Which means Zander is buying himself more time. To rest and feed his men, perhaps? To plan and prepare for what happens now that Harald is dead?
Only when Karra takes my hand in hers do I remember she’s standing there, and clearing my throat, I meet her gaze.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I whisper, the emotion too tight in my throat for much else.
Karra promises and gestures behind her. “Come, my lady. We should gather wood for the fires.”
I nod absently, my eyes finding Zander again as he stalks into the trees. His presence is far more unsettling than it is comforting, and I know I must keep my guard up until I know his true plans.
22
ZANDER
The whisper of my blade slicing through elk hide, tail to shoulder bone, is a comforting sound, but I bite back a wince. I’ve barely begun skinning my kill and my side already aches uncomfortably.
None of this is quite as I’d expected it would be, yet it all feels like a long time coming. Being in the place where my second life started is harder than I thought.
Peering beyond the ridge where the forest opens to snowfields, I see the memories replay far too clearly—Reider and I raising our swords alongside Gorm and his warriors. And the moment my purpose became painfully clear.
I butcher the elk with haste, careless with the hide, as I focus on our evening meal. It’s the fuel we’ll need as we prepare for and decide what comes next. Either way—going back to Winterwood or continuing east—we must get back on the road. Time is against us, and with a dozen of the queen’s guards, my horsemen, and the princess and Karra to keep warm and fed, this might be the only feast we’ll have for a while.
“The queen is impatient,” Reider says as he crunches through the snow toward me. “She will send more of the army to search for us. We should keep moving.” He unsheathes a bone-handled blade from his belt and cuts through the elk’s fleshy thigh.
“Yes,” I agree, “she will send more men, but most of the warriors are loyal to us, and those worth their salt are already here.”
Reider smirks at that.
“Besides,” I say, cutting off a flank and setting it off to the side in the snow, “it is not the queen I worry about now.”
Reider looks at me, knowing exactly what I mean, and hacks at a knee bone with extra force. “What are you going to tell the princess?”
“Only what she needs to know, for now,” I say, though I’m not sure what that is yet. “I am still deciding if Harald made things easier or worse.”
Reider snorts. “Does it matter? He is dead. His men in the south are clueless—he is meant to be in the north for another few weeks.” Reider shakes his head, staring at me. “Harald is no longer a distraction.”
I ignore Reider’s gaze. “But an uprising in the south was not part of the plan.”
“Plans always change. You have told me that a dozen times. The reason for all of this remains the same.”
I look pointedly at Reider, my best friend since we trained for the massacre in these very woods seven years ago.
He smiles. “Harald’s hubris is comical if he thought anyone he forced fealty from would raise their swords to the queen in his name after he’s dead. Not to mention, he clearly forgot about her huntsman, and his seven godlike horsemen.”
I chuckle at that, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly. Reider is right. There’s no honor among most men, and definitely not those whose fealty is bred from fear.
“Do you ever regret it?” Reider stares out at the snow-covered meadow. “What we did that day,” he clarifies.
I think about the men we killed, and all the lives lost at the end of our treacherous blades—the way we turned on the very people we were supposed to fight beside. But I feel no remorse.
A twig splinters behind us and Reider and I peer back at Thora, approaching like an angry ox, stomping through the snow. I see the hurt and anger in her eyes. It’s the same injured look I’ve had to ignore for many years.
I glance at the flayed elk and my bloody hands. She must see me as a monster after all that’s happened. And what she witnessed today. But I don’t allow myself to dwell on it. “Are you squeamish, princess?” I ask instead.
She glares at me, and I want to smile. “You know I am not.”
