Chapter 3 Understanding
1147 Words
Everything burned. Smoke choked her lungs and fire consumed the world around her. She stumbled in a circle. Her screams and cries for help went unheard. Everyone she knew was dead.
She awoke with a start. She gasped for air then realized that the smoke that robbed her of breath was only a dream. It was pitch black save for faint moonlight that flooded in from the tiny round window. Her eyes tried to adjust to the dim light as she slowly became aware of her surroundings. A heavy pressure weighed against her chest. She looked down to see a massive arm encircling her. She shoved violently but the tree trunk sized appendage didn’t budge. She tried to squirm free but the arm pulled her closer to the rock hard chest she could now feel pressed against her back. Warm breath tickled her neck and she realized that her capture still slept.
She forced herself to lie completely still while she decided what to do. Her head pounded with the force of a thousand hammers. The blinding pain sparked horrific memories of yesterday’s events. She tried to relax her head against the soft fur beneath her. The feeling of hopeless dejection flooded every fiber of her being. She was alone with a man wearing no clothes. No doubt the maidenhead she spent most of her life protecting was taken while she slept. It was bitter to know she was vulnerable even in sleep.
The loss of her father and home were unbearable. Combined with the loss of her maidenhead she could scarcely find the will to live. Her earlier attempt to flee reminded her just how hopeless her situation was. Now, sullied, homeless, and heartbroken she was on a ship bound for a destination known only by her captures. Why had they kept her alive? They had cut down everyone in her home. She feared that she was only spared to ease their lust during their sea voyage.
She shut her eyes and tried to remember the glorious Valkyrie angel she had seen in a vision yesterday. Odin must have stopped the angel from carrying her to Valhalla. Oh, if only she could have met her father in the great hall, death would have been welcome. Now, she was forced to suffer life alone as a slave to the same men who destroyed her home.
A ragging fire slowly began to build within her. Every loss she suffered built within her the will to kill every Viking on this ship. Starting with the one whose hands were on her now.
She was the daughter of a Lord and she would act like it. Viking raiders had long plagued the shores of her homeland, and this was her chance to send a few of the heartless warriors to a watery death.
In the quiet of the darkness she comforted herself with the thought that soon she would suffer no more. Courage replaced fear as the knowledge that before she took her last breath she would smite as many Viking pigs as she could. She looked down at the arm around her and thought, “rest, sleeping Viking, for tomorrow you will have a fight on your hands.”
She tried to go back to sleep, but she was no longer tired. She stared at the small window for what seemed like forever. Slowly she noticed something had changed in the room. No longer was the Viking’s breathing deep and rhythmic. She could scarcely hear him breathing at all. Without warning he lifted his arm from around her chest.
Fear propelled her off the pile of fur pelts. She stumbled into a wall and backed herself into a corner. The Viking made no move to attack her, but she still didn’t want to give him the opportunity. She could only see a faint outline of his frame in the poor light, and just by his shadow she knew she wouldn’t stand a chance if he decided to attack her.
Whoever this Viking was he was a huge man. He was large even in comparison with the other Vikings she had seen. She knew by the feeling of his arm that he had bulky muscle to match his immense height.
He moved slowly about the room and paid her little attention. She squinted her eyes to see what he was doing. A warm rush of blood flooded her face when she realized he was dressing himself. Only moments ago she laid in bed with an unclothed man. Anger and embarrassment ruled her mind equally. That unclothed heathen had stolen her innocence and now he dressed himself as if nothing had happened.
Her ears were unprepared to hear his voice.
“There’s a strong potion to ease your pain here on this table. There is also food if you are hungry. You must stay here in this room and rest.”
Stunned that he used her language, she didn’t speak or even acknowledge that she had heard him. To her surprise he repeated the phrase in four more languages. She understood him each time, but never uttered a reply. Her education had always felt like a burden, but now she was thankful that her father had insisted she know several languages. Obviously this Viking valued book knowledge as well. He spoke to her again.
“Do you understand anything I’m saying to you?”
Still she made no move to answer. She sank down on her haunches and wrapped her arms around her knees.
He abruptly turned and left the room. Relief was instant with him gone. An idea sprung into her mind. Mayhap she could use her knowledge of language to her advantage. People often said things they wouldn’t normally share when they believed the other person couldn’t understand them. She would remain silent. If she refused to speak then they wouldn’t know what language she used. Hopefully these Viking brutes would reveal their plans for her without knowing that she could understand them.
A tiny kernel of hope unfurled in her stomach. With newfound purpose she slowly made her way around the room. She ate the food he left and pondered the pain potion he spoke of. Her head still ached, but she didn’t trust the Viking’s medicine. What if the potion was really something to rob her of her wits? She was better to suffer the pain than to surrender her mind.
Once her belly was full she climbed back onto the fur pelts. There was nothing to occupy her time but the memory of her lost father. Pain ripped her insides and she wept for her losses. She let the tears flow freely until she finally cried herself back to sleep.
- Writer
