Mixed Blood (ON HIATUS)

Chapter Two

Screams and cries filled the room, drowning out any sounds of remaining prayer. The men in front of the doors were pushed away as the doors began to shake. "They are coming! We are doomed!" Cried a young man.

The doors were pushed once more, with a stronger force, causing dust and wood splinters to fly about the church.
My stomach churned. I hoped for the doors to burst at any moment merely to eliminate anticipation.

"Please!" screamed the priest," Calm down! We shall not be harmed if we pray!" "We are just going to sit and let them slaughter us?" barked an angry merchant.

"God will pro-" the doors broke open, wood splintering as people were pushed against the stone, church wall. A cloud of dust submerged the Viking's for a brief moment, making them look even more frightening, but they strode through the church despite their clouded vision, their large bodies shaking the floor as they went.

The largest Viking looked at me, as I prayed and repeated "Daor Dia , le do thoil chosaint ar na daoine de mo sráidbhaile. Daor Dia , le do thoil chosaint ar na daoine de mo sráidbhaile."

One Viking, wearing a reindeer fur shawl, grabbed a young girl by her shirt, his muscles bulging from his skin. I strode over to the Viking, my breath uneven and shaky.

"Leave her be!" I demanded. Immediately, I regretted my spontaneous courage that had disappeared once the words left my mouth. His facial expression shifted from fierce to confused. His understanding of me was blocked by language.

"La henne være!" I demanded once more, this time in Norse. "Hvordan snakker du mitt språk?" asked the Viking harshly. How do you know to speak my language?

I did not reply, only stood there in shock. He grunted and continued to threaten and spit at the young girl. She sobbed and tried to push away, but the Viking was too strong. Anger flashed in his eyes. It was as if somebody had thrown a basket of dry leaves into a fire.

Swiftly, I pulled the sword from my leather sheath. The Viking turned his head towards me. I slashed at him, blood spilling from his right arm. Angrily, he threw the girl against the pews and started towards me.

In the corner of my eye, I could see the young girl's family making the sign of the cross. I lowered myself, sending my sword beside me, gripping the handle tightly to the extent that my knuckles were turning white.

Do not get yourself into something that God cannot get you out of. That negative thought flooded my mind as my veins coursed with blood, my heart pounding so hard it felt as though it was fluttering. It was trying to fly away, to escape- something I wanted desperately in this moment.

He slashed at me, cutting my leg and making me stumble backwards. I lunged for him, but missed. Swiftly, I slid around him and aiming towards the surrounding people. Trying to escape the Viking, I threw a grown man to his bum, saving him from the end of a sword.

As the Viking grew faster, I drew closer to the church doors. What am I going to do? I thought. I felt arms wrap around my waist as I was lifted from the ground. I kicked and screamed, but that did not seem to stop the Viking. "La meg være!", I yelped. Leave me be!

"Lær å holde tungen! Du tilhører vikingene nå!" he barked. Learn to hold your tongue! You belong to the Vikings now!

He dragged me out of the church, grasping my hair tightly in his hands. Out on the dirt roads lay many bloodied and dead people. The paths were filled with goods and belongings, the dirt stained red with blood of the suffering.

He took me near a house, pushing me against it. The Viking pulled a dirk from his leather belt. I stood there defiantly, as he looked deep into my gray, blue eyes. I was seething as his breath touched my face. He pulled his dirk close to my collarbone, his hand shaking, moving it insidiously towards me.

I felt a burning sensation below my collarbone as his dirk dug into my skin. He carved along the bone until the wound was streaking across my chest. The Viking pulled his dirk away from me, allowing me to fall to the earth. I ran my fingers around the outline of my raw flesh, wincing at the burning pain as I looked up to the Viking with hatred.

I knitted my eyebrows together in anger as I stared into his green, taunting eyes. "Jeg hater deg!" I spat. I hate you! He drew closer to me once more, his dirk hoisted in his strong hand.

I pushed him away from me and bolted towards the ocean. Where on Earth do I think I'm going? It is not as if there is any chance of escape in the ocean!

I was grasped once more by a large hand that belonged to the Viking that I had encountered before, and thrown over his shoulder as if I was a cloth sack filled with potatoes. I struck and kicked, managing to strike him in his nose. This time, he put me upon a grass roof. It squeaked and jostled as I moved about.

My stomach tied to knots of steel; it was a feeling that showed no possible way of becoming untied. The Viking tugged at the chains on my dress, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Swiftly, he pointed his finger towards a ship floating in anchor upon the rapidly beating waves of water in the midst of the ship port.

He looked deeply into my intense, gray stare. "Hva er det du vil?" I asked harshly. What do you want?

He did not answer, but he continued to stare. His cold, hard glare said nothing of his intentions or past doings; but only a blank slate, refusing to be written upon.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter of Mixed Blood! Thank you so much for reading and please don't forget to like and comment. Bye!