Blood & Fire

Chapter Four | The Baltic Sea

Meryna had never traveled on a ship that sailed as swiftly as this one, but despite its agile pace, the rolling waves unsettled her stomach much the same as any less impressive vessel. The salty air whipped at her face, tangling her curly hair. Her fingers tightened on the wooden beam she rested on. She willed her body to stop rocking back and forth, to stop being a victim of the sea's relentless motion.

Eydis caught Rorik's gaze. She nodded her head towards the front of the boat. Rorik turned from the mast, following where Eydis' gaze directed him, towards an ailing Meryna. He quickly tied down the rope he was handling, before fetching some water from their water supply. So deep in concentration, she was that she did not notice his approach.

He held the silver chalice in front of her contorted and paling face, finally capturing her attention. No doubt it was stolen from her home or perhaps the monastery in her village, she thought to herself.

Her thoughts were cut off when Rorik said, "Drink, you need to keep up your strength."

She glowered at him for a moment but knew he was right. She needed to stay hydrated. Without a word, she took the chalice in her hands and, tilting her head back, downed the refreshing contents within it. She had not realized before how thirsty she was.

Immediately she cupped her mouth. Then, she stumbled to the side of the boat, clasping on to the edge of the ship's side. She gagged as her stomach emptied itself. The ship erupted with scattered laughter.

"With such a weak stomach, are we sure she can handle being the bride of a Norseman?!"

Meryna recognized the voice. It was as unpleasant to her ears as the person who possessed it: Vidar. She wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her dress, giving him a hardened stare from where she stood. The look she gave him only coaxed more laughter from his lips. She realized it would take more than a fierce look from a captive to elicit respect from the hardened warrior. With shaky legs she sat back down, her nails immediately digging into the wooden panels as the sea rocked her back and forth.

The night quickly fell upon them. Meryna found it to be even more uncomfortable than seafaring during the day. The sea air was chilled and unrelenting without the sun to warm it. From where she was lying, nestled in the ships bow with the handcrafted dragon looming over her, her whole body shivered.

She sighed in relief when warmth flooded through her backside. The heat was exactly what she craved. When an arm wrapped around her slender torso Meryna jerked her neck over her shoulder. She was greeted by a grinning Rorik.

She pushed against his arm, but he did not budge. As much as she struggled to pull away from him he just as effortlessly pulled her back into his intoxicating warmth.

"Unhand me!"

Rorik's quiet laugh tickled at her ear. Her Scottish accent making it hard to take her seriously.

"What kind of husband would I be to let my bride freeze to death?"

The word husband turned her stomach. Pressed firmly against his solid chest, Meryna kicked her feet wildly, attempting to inflict some damage against her captor. She groaned in frustration and finally stilled. If she could not wound him with her body she would use her tongue instead.

"Perhaps, the kind that ransacks, pillages and murders. The kind who steals me away from the only home I've ever known, forcing me to sail the ocean and endure endless days of seasickness surrounded by blood hungry pagans," She huffed with strained breathing.

Silence fell between them. Then, the warmth that shielded her from the howling and bitter wind disappeared. Her teeth clenched as her muscles jerked uncontrollably in violent shivers. She was exhausted and desperately longed for sleep. She chided herself for inwardly missing the heat that radiated so effortlessly from the Northman.

No one else on board seemed to share in her problem. Besides the light chatter of the few men on night watch, the only sounds from the other warriors were restful breathing and raucous snores. They could not risk drifting from their course during the hours the moon shone.

The sea could be unpredictable. It could turn without warning, becoming violent and unrelenting. On this night the sea was content to be gentle, using its magnificent waves to pull the ship along.

Usually, on nights like this, when Rorik was placed on night watch, he would lose himself in the vast sea before him. He'd watch the stars, making sure they followed the one that always led them back home. Other's in his family and clan dreaded their turn at keeping watch, but he was different.

Instead of tracking the stars and imagining what lies below the blackened surface of the sea, he kept looking back from his post to the shivering maiden at the bow of the ship. The thick fur fashioned around his body came undone. He carried it in a tight fist, carefully stepping over his father where he lies, as well as his brothers.

He draped his coat over her gently. It amused him at how it seemed to swallow her whole. He stood there, watching in satisfaction as her muscles quieted down and sleep washed over her. How pale her skin looked as moonbeams danced across her cheekbones. Her unruly flaming hair spread out all around her like it could not make up its mind what direction it should be in. His eyes moved down to her plump lips, which were slightly open.

He realized then that he had never in all his years seen a woman as fair. Returning from the raids with such a rare beauty would be a testament to his skill as a warrior. It would bring him and his family honor.

The air stung at his skin, but he did not mind it. It was the distraction he needed from the impending thoughts his captive had unknowingly afflicted on him. It was refreshing.

He carefully stepped over the young maiden, climbing towards the long neck of the dragon. Perched there, he mapped the stars. In a few days' time, he would be home.