Alrek(21)

He should take her to Iceland. The thought prodded him again, playing in his mind incessantly. But would she leave her homeland? And be comfortable living amongst the people who had raided her country and nearly driven the Picts to extinction?

Alrek sighed and stalked over to the water tub. Sloshing cold water over his face and hands, he paused to eye his reflection. The gods had left him in peace recently. Did that mean he was on the right path? And what was that? To stay with Ilisa perhaps? The temptation to do so warred within. He had thought Iceland was his destiny but perhaps it was Ilisa.

He dashed the drops of water from his eyes and ducked into the cottage. Ilisa smiled, motioned for him to sit and shoved a bowl of steaming vegetables in front of him. Alrek wasted no time and shovelled them in, almost scalding his mouth and making Ilisa’s lips twist.

She seated herself opposite him and paused. “They will not run off your plate if you do not eat them you know?”

Alrek let slip a chuckle and blew on his next spoonful. “Are you sure? I’ve heard Pictish vegetables were the feistiest of them all.”

“Nay, Alrek, that is the women.”

Lowering his spoon, he studied her. “Aye, you are right. Pictish women are indeed feisty. I’m not sure I’ve ever met a woman like you.”

Ilisa’s teasing smile dropped and the smoky air grew stifling. He felt as though he were trying to breathe underwater. Their gazes locked, the world around darkened. Only Ilisa existed with her vibrant red hair and delicate face, with her beautiful voice and sweet sense of humour.

He coughed. “Of course, I have always been fond of Pictish women.”

Lashes dropping, Ilisa’s lips tightened. She gave a depreciating laugh. “Of course.” Her lashes lifted. “Whereas I have never been fond of Vikings.”

Her sharp response surprised him and made the tiniest pinprick in his heart. He had hurt her with his callous words. He’d meant to create some distance, but never hurt her. In truth, he would rather die than let Ilisa endure any hurt ever again. The idea of this women suffering in anyway struck him like a blade to the heart. Perhaps the idea of staying was not such a bad one. How else could he be sure she never came to harm?

On the morrow he would suggest staying.

And if she said aye, what then? Would he give into his desire for her? Ask her to be his wife? His heart warmed at the thought. Maybe he would do both.

“You are fond of this Viking though?” he prompted.

Her lips twisted and the sparkle returned to her eyes. “Oh, aye, fond enough.”

***

A wolf’s howl renting the air caused Alrek to bolt upright. He stared into the darkness and listened. They were close, likely going for the sheep again. He sighed. Ilisa couldn’t afford to lose many more. From his pallet on the floor, he listened to see if Ilisa had awoken too, but he was unable to even hear her soft breaths.

“Ilisa?” he whispered, unwilling to wake her if she really was asleep.

Nothing. Not even the tiniest whisper of air. He peered at her bed, trying to break the darkness. The fire had yet to go out fully but her bed was shrouded in shadows. Gradually her pallet became apparent as his vision adjusted. Alrek eyed the bedding, followed the bumps in the blanket until it came to where her head should have been.

“Óðins skegg!” On his feet, he stumbled over the pallet and snatched the torch from the wall next to the door. Mouth dry, heart thudding, Alrek shoved the torch into the glowing embers of the fire. “Light!” he demanded.

The torch flared and he uttered a thank you. Foregoing his boots and dressed in only a shirt, he took a last glance at her bed and his insides crumpled. Definitely not there. Another howl sent a tremor down his spine. He dashed outside, lifted the torch and squinted into the distance. A tiny flicker of light moved across the darkened hills.

Ilisa.

Foolish woman. Was she intending to scare off the wolves? Alrek fell into a sprint, dropping the torch when it became too much of a hindrance. A half-moon flickered through the clouds, enough to light the uneven ground. Fear drummed in his heart, horror curdled his stomach. What would he do if something happened to Ilisa? A scream echoed across the hills and struck his heart—a crippling pain that nearly sent him to his knees.

“Ilisa,” he called, the sound coarse. His lungs and thighs burned. The light had stopped moving up the hills but it swept from side to side.

As he got closer, he realised the wolves had surrounded her. Within moments, he came to her side and shoved her behind him. She cried out and he snatched the torch from her, swiping at the snarling beasts. They were hungry indeed to come out so far and show no fear of the fire.

The pack surrounded them, four animals snapped at their legs. Alrek used the torch to keep them at bay but how long it would work, he knew not. He had to get Ilisa to safety. He shouted at the beasts, swung again and dodged to the side as one made a jump for him. He caught the animal’s side with the flame and the wolf whimpered and backed away.