Aeleva; The Viking Saxon

Chapter 5

That night Hagen let me sleep on a fur, the warmth was extraordinary, and it protected me from the brutal images that swam in my head. My fist smashing the bones of her nose. Her ribs cracking under my foot. Each laboured breath she took as I pinned her to the ground. Every image as solid as the next and every image as exhilarating as the moment itself.

In the quiet of the night, when my heart had stilled and the adrenaline gone, the loneliness creeped in from the shadows. Reminding me who I was, and where I had come from. My brother, Osric, was not in the heap of corpses the Danes had left. I prayed he escaped, I prayed he outran them, I prayed with every fibre of my being that The Lord showed kindly on him. That he made it to the monastery, that the monks would take him in. I imagined him warm by the fire, surrounded by needless books and that image alone, let me sleep. His face, along with my whole village made it into my prayers that night.

Before the sun had risen, Hagen dragged me out of bed to an open field. We had wooden axes; children's toys. My eye had swelled shut, only a blurry vision came from it. It wept horrendously so a constant stream of tears wet my cheek. My left jaw was tender and the muscles groaned with each movement, but no bones shifted unnaturally so that was a plus.

The axes had a long handle, that stood as tall as my waist. The wood was smooth from use and at places chips had been lost. Faded marks from berry juice were along the shaft with old worn runes. The 'blade' was solid oak, and so the axe did have weight to it.

"First, we will learn to strike with an axe because you are too weak to fight with a shield."

Hagen swung from above his head swiftly moving the blade across his body. Then his muscles tensed as he glided the weight up in a reverse movement. Resulting in one swift motion around the whole of his body.

"You try." I lifted the axe above my head and swung it down. The weight pulled the axe down towards the ground and my aching muscles tried hard to pull it back up. But the solid wood just thumped to the ground and Hagen sighed from my tragic attempt.

"No, switch your hands and turn it so the blade is always cutting." I did as he said. Attempting to turn the axe blade first.

"Good, always counter what action you do, the axe leaves your body open," he explained and jabbed at my stomach. It was only a touch, but the handle went straight where the girl had slammed me into the ground. I flinched and grimaced at the contact.

I thought I saw his hand reach out to hold me. But he clasped his hands together and waited for me to compose myself.

He swung his axe at me and I blocked it with my upswing.

"Gut!" Hagen said, "You will be a great warrior." He smiled then, a genuine smile. A smile that you give to a great friend, that you want to give to show kindness, to show love. A smile that warms your heart.

But I did not want to be a shieldmaiden. My face fell and when Hagen saw, so did his. He flushed and he opened his mouth to speak but closed it without a word.

Hagen cleared his throat and repositioned himself. "Again," He commanded; the playfulness gone from his tone.

We continued to joist. Every move he made to me, I blocked. Although he was deliberately showing me his move by stepping before each lunge.

"She's good. You didn't lie about that." Shouted a voice behind us, it was Danish but had a hint of an accent I did not recognise. A woman with fierce bright red hair walked towards us. As she moved her hair flowed around her as the curls caught the winds. She wore leathers that had been punctured in winged patterns, and wielded a dagger on her right. She walked with sway in her hips and a glint in her eye.