Page 10 of The Outlaw Viking

Selik remained silent for several moments, considering her words. “So, you have seen thirty winters. I did not realize you were so long in the tooth.”

“I’m no older than you,” she retorted hotly.

“Well, then, we must both be long in the tooth, sweetling,” he concluded with a soft laugh. He pressed her cheek against his chest, indicating an end to the conversation, and expertly put the horse into a faster pace.

Sweetling! Rain snuggled closer and put her arms around his waist for balance. Weariness overwhelmed her. This time-travel business was exhausting.

Before she dozed off, somehow confident that Selik would protect her from any danger, Rain wondered how she would ever be able to save this savage Norseman who referred to lovemaking as rutting, who killed men as easily as he’d stomp on ants, and who’d just as soon be dead himself. Rain vowed that she would help him, God willing, and somehow, in the process, she hoped to regain her own life as well. But the question was—would it be here in the past, or in the future?

Rain slept peacefully until she felt the horse climbing a sharp incline. The path it followed wended through near-impenetrable brush and vines, which Selik slashed aside when necessary with his sword. Fierce, primitive soldiers stood watch silently along the way, waving them forward when they recognized Selik, then covering their tracks immediately after. Soon they emerged onto a flat clearing atop the hill. From here they could see for miles around, obviously a good vantage point for detecting any pursuing enemy.

Rain was surprised to see that hundreds of Vikings and their allies, including the Scots and Welsh, had escaped the Saxon assault. Many of the men still wore battle raiment, while others covered themselves with wolf skins and other animal furs as the cool autumn evening approached. Only a few women were present, cooking over open fires off to the side.

Some tents had been erected, but most of the men lay on the open ground, resting or treating wounds. At least she could be of some help as a physician.

Rain turned to offer her medical skills and noticed the proud, arrogant set of Selik’s shoulders. Even in a crowd, his presence was compelling, but no welcome greeted Selik from his beaten comrades. An air of isolation surrounded her lone Viking, as if he were an outcast of some sort.

Selik dismounted and helped Rain off the horse. A number of men stared at her with curiosity. Lord, by the ferocious, barbaric looks of them, she’d landed in a den of Dark Age warlords.

“Go help the women,” Selik directed curtly.

“Huh? Cooking? Me?”

“Do my ears play me false? You question my orders already?” Selik hissed through gritted teeth.

“No, it’s just that I thought you’d need my medical skills.”

“Go to the cooking fires,” he snapped in a choked voice. Some of the men snickered at her questioning his orders.

“I’m a doctor, for heaven’s sake,” Rain muttered petulantly as she started to stomp off.

Selik grabbed her braid and pulled hard, jerking her back sharply.

“Ouch! What’d I do now?” She yanked her braid out of his hands and squared her shoulders defiantly, despite his stormy face.

“Your flapping tongue defies reason, and I warned you about missaying the truth. First, you claim to be a guardian angel. Now, a healer. What next? The goddess Freya?”

Rain closed her eyes for a moment and sighed deeply. “I am a physician. I spent many years studying to be a doctor. I’m a surgeon at Holy Trinity Hospital.”

Rain heard hoots of disbelief and derision around her, but Selik rubbed his chin and eyed her speculatively.

“A physician!” he grumbled with a resigned shake of his head. “Bloody hell! The gods surely showed their displeasure by dumping this feminine blight on me this day.” Before she could protest, he grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled her toward the nearest tent, demanding, “Show me.”

Rain soon discovered that three tents held wounded warriors in a triage system based on the severity of their injuries. Still carrying her shoulder bag containing an emergency medical kit, she entered the tent with the most grievously wounded. For hours, she worked like an automaton as best she could with her limited supplies—suturing wounds, treating shock, and trying to avoid infection wherever possible.

At first, Selik stood guard over her, watching her every move. He stopped her when she tried to give pills to several men, but let her continue when she assured him they were just aspirin and Tylenol, mild painkillers, much the same as the herbs his own healers used. She gave Darvon to some men who needed stronger medication.

When she finished with all the patients in her tent, Rain went outside and stretched her back to remove the kinks. She knew she’d treated only a few of the many victims. She heard loud moans and screams from the other tents, where God only knew what kind of primitive medical practitioners doctored the helpless victims.

Selik stood alone, propped against a tree trunk on the other side of the clearing, apart from his military comrades. Their gazes locked for a second, and Rain wondered what he had been thinking, standing in the chill night air.

He needs you, the voice said.

Hah! He needs a good shot of pacifism. That’s what he needs.

Then Selik gave her a questioning glare, as if asking why she was resting when so many needed her help. The boor!

Rain walked huffily into the next tent and gazed in horror at a young man lying on a long table, protesting wildly the restraints of several men who held him down. Rain couldn’t believe what she saw. Then, as the victim turned his face toward her, Rain screamed in horror.