Page 23 of Lord of Fire and Ice

He’d have borne the insults to himself, but he wouldn’t let his father be slandered. The day Brandr’s father wailed like a little maid hadn’t dawned.

They exchanged several ringing blows, but when Gormson pulled his dirk from its sheath, arming both hands, Brandr’s chances dimmed significantly.

Brandr lunged, and Gormson leaped out of the way. But not before his dirk sliced through Brandr’s tunic. Gormson feinted and ran into Brandr’s waiting blade, but he neatly deflected the sharp edge with his own dirk, whirling away unhurt.

There had been a time when combatants in the holmgang would stand toe-to-toe, whacking away at each other with no finesse at all, trusting brute strength to win the day. Now fighting was more like a macabre dance, full of leaps and quick turns. They both came close to drawing blood, but Brandr only nicked Gormson’s leather breastplate, and Gormson had only shredded more of Brandr’s disreputable tunic.

Brandr was vaguely aware of the chants of encouragement from the crowd. Einar was taking wagers, shouting out the odds in a loud voice.

He wanted to glance at Katla, but Gormson launched a fresh assault, and his world spiraled down to the next parry, the next thrust.

Keep your feet. Don’t stop moving.

Neither gave quarter nor expected it to be given. Their eyes burned feral. Black berserkr rage stole over them, setting their blood aflame.

It seemed both were tiring, when Brandr changed tactics and let Gormson get close to him. When Albrikt swiped at him, he used his sword hilt to catch the older man’s blade. With a quick flick of his wrist, he wrenched the sword from Gormson’s hand.

Brandr buried his fist in Albrikt’s belly, and the dirk dropped from Gormson’s grip. With his opponent doubled over, Brandr swept Gormson’s legs from under him in a swift kick.

Albrikt landed flat on his back, sucking wind. With a final roar, Brandr brought his blade down suddenly on Gormson’s neck, stopping a hair’s breadth from the older man’s pulsing life vein. Brandr’s chest heaved, and every bit of his blood screamed out at him for stopping short of the actual kill.

The crowd fell into stunned silence. A thrall had bested a freeman, a landed karl. It would take a moment for their world to right itself.

“Do you yield?” Brandr asked between gasping breaths.

“No,” Gormson said between clenched teeth.

“Then I guess I’ll have to blood you.” Brandr pressed down enough to pink Gormson’s neck with a thin mark. He straightened and looked down at Gormson. “Be sure to thank Katla the Black. She’s the only reason you’re still breathing.”

Chapter 8

Finn and Einar tried to help Gormson up, but he waved them away angrily. Brandr hoped he’d stomp off and abandon his pursuit of Katla, but he allowed himself to be persuaded to reenter the longhouse.

Brandr was forced to listen as Katla commended him for his fighting abilities.

“Not many would relish facing a captain of the Varangian Guard, even if he does wear a thrall collar,” she said. “You fought with honor, son of Gorm.”

After a few more horns of mead, Albrikt was his blustering self again.

Brandr was relieved when she made her excuses and retired for the night once the singing and drinking games began. After a few moments, everyone’s attention was riveted on her brother Einar near the central fire. He was trying to drain a horn of mead as long as his arm in one gulp and had failed in his second attempt. He called for the horn to be topped off.

Brandr used the raucous chanting while the horn was being refilled to cover his exit. As silent as a wraith, he slipped into her chamber.

The noise of the crowd faded, but Katla evidently wasn’t aware he’d entered. She was humming the same drinking tune the gathering was singing in the next room. He moved farther into the chamber with stealth, not daring to breathe too deeply lest she hear him.

Katla faced away from him on the far side of her bed. Her starched headdress was propped on one of her trunks, and she’d unbraided her hair. The long tresses glistened in the lamplight, still damp, as if she’d plaited it when it was wet. It cascaded in waves down the length of her spine, the wispy ends teasing her hips.

Her fingers worked the catch on the brooch above each breast. Once the tabs at her shoulders came free, she stepped out of the stiff brocade overdress. The lighter tunic beneath clung to her form. Brandr clearly discerned all her curves under the thin fabric, and the shadow of her legs through the thin cloth teased him.

Marriages were ever made with an eye to increased wealth, Brandr knew, but Gormson should happily give up his Stord property for a woman like this. Even if all she brought to the union was herself.

Then she bent double, grasped the hem, and pulled her tunic off over her head. She moved slowly, as if her mind were otherwise occupied.

That was fine with him. Desire roared in him, and he was hot and ready in only a few heartbeats. He ached to bury himself in her softness, to feel her velvet heat wrapped around him.

Unfortunately, she wasted no time slipping on her thin night shift.

She slid her hands under her heavy hair and gave it a shake, spreading the dark mantle across her shoulders to dry. When she turned to climb into bed, she saw Brandr in the shadows and startled.