Ilisa peeked over her shoulder and back at Galan. She edged away toward the cliff’s edge. Other women had gone with the Vikings? That meant other Picts would be in Iceland. They too would have Viking lovers. She wouldn’t be an outcast but the same as them. Should she have agreed to wait for him or have risked whatever dangers he thought she faced and gone?
She smirked and glanced around. There was nothing left for her now but was it too late? Shuffling closer to the edge of the cliff, she peered into the gloom, tried to penetrate it. Her stomach danced as she spied red coloured sails but how close were they? Or was Alrek already headed out to sea?
Galan stepped closer. “Are you intending to jump? You would kill yourself and sentence your soul to hell for him?”
She swung her gaze to him, to the villagers and back to the horizon. “Aye.” She jumped.
Her feet slipped on the thin ledge and she almost tumbled all the way down the cliff but for her grip on the foliage. Righting herself, she looked down the cliff face and thanked God she knew these cliffs so well. The strip of ground was narrow. It had begun to slip into the sea some two summers ago and she remembered the rumble as it did so, but it was enough to allow her to make her way down the cliffs to the beach.
She glanced up, saw no one had been brave enough follow her and picked her way down the cliff edge. Her shoes fell off and her skirts ripped. The cliff face seemed endless, a great grey wall that loomed both beneath and above her. Several times she nearly slipped and her heart remained in her throat until sand met her feet.
Skirts in hand, she shouted Alrek’s name but the wind carried it away. The rain fell heavily now, plastering her hair to her skin and obscuring her view of the ship. She prayed it had not left yet or she hadn’t been deceived as to how close to the shore it was.
“Alrek,” she screamed again.
Up ahead, a figure appeared, not far from the sea edge. Her legs threatened to give out from beneath her as overwhelming joy washed through her. She froze when she spied the heart stopping expression on his face—one of anguish and despair. In front of him, several Vikings stood, axes ready. Ilisa frowned. They looked to be at a standoff.
“Run, Ilisa. Return to your people,” he called to her. “Warn them that the Vikings are coming.”
Her scowl deepened and she flicked her gaze from the Vikings to Alrek and back again. “Nay! I wish to go with you.” Finally her stiff legs responded and she sprinted to his side.
An arm met her chest, held her back and shoved her behind him. “Run, Ilisa, or you shall die here,” he hissed over his shoulder.
The Vikings shouted something, their words sounding nothing like the beautiful Norse words that sometimes spilled from Alrek’s lips. Aggression rang clear in their voices. They were here to raid, she realised. And Alrek… Alrek was intending to stop them. She counted the Vikings—eight in total. Eight against an unarmed man and woman. They would die for sure.
“My people are ready,” she told him. “They are on the cliffs. They burned my home,” she spilled out on a sob, not even intending to tell him as much.
“Curses.” He turned his attention back to the Vikings and spoke again, motioning to the cliff tops. “Hrafnarnir munu hafa þik!”
The lead Viking, a man easily as large as Alrek, replied but his words meant nothing to her.
“They mean to kill us if we do not step aside,” Alrek explained.
Ilisa gripped his arm, torn between letting the Vikings ravage her homeland or standing their ground and being killed. She no longer held any affection for her people, not after how they had turned their backs on her but she couldn’t let these men harm the innocent women and children. What the two of them could do, she knew not, but she would not step aside.
“If we die in battle, we go to Valhalla, do we not?” Her voice wavered.
“Aye, we do.” Alrek offered her a tight smile and took her hand.
The leader nodded and issued a command of some kind. “Vegið!”
Ilisa gulped, the pounding in her head threatened to deafen her and her skin grew hot. A shout from the men made her tremble and Alrek squeezed her hand tightly. The leader took a step forward and Ilisa let out a cry as he tripped. He fell to the ground, sand billowing around him and Alrek tugged Ilisa back behind the protection of his body.
The other Vikings lowered their weapons and eyed their leader, confusion on their faces. A man stepped from behind them and only when he pulled the axe from the leader’s back, did Ilisa realise the man had been slain.
“Óðins skegg!” Alrek exclaimed. “Gardarr! Eric!”
Ilisa watched as the men appeared to turn on each other. A mass of swinging axes and brawling limbs seemed to break out. Alrek lunged forward, kicked a man aside and snatched the fallen man’s weapon. A Viking swung at him and Ilisa screamed a warning. Alrek spun around and dodged the blow before bringing the head of the axe into his enemy’s stomach and slicing across his vulnerable back as he bent double.