Ruthless by Sophia Johnson

herbal garden over her left
shoulder. She hadn't time to eat but gulped down water she'd poured
from the pitcher beside the window.
    While she swallowed, Grunda hurried to the
door. "I'll go first. If we leave through the postern gate, it's
possible no one will note us."
    Grunda slipped out the door and skirted
around the garden's edges, taking advantage to hide behind each
tree she came across. Muriele followed.
    Soon, they pulled away vines growing over the
latch on the gate. It took both their efforts to force the old
wooden gate open and drag it closed behind them. She prayed when
they returned they'd be able to open it again.
    Once they reached the forest path, they
lengthened their strides and moved quickly. When Grunda began to
breathe heavily, Muriele felt ashamed and stopped.
    "Dinna cause yerself an injury. I will run
ahead to where she lies. When I hear ye coming close on the path,
I'll call out."
    She waited to assure herself the old woman
was all right then wrapped her arm around the bag of tools. If she
kept them from flapping against her side, she could run in a steady
lope. Each footfall was painful, but she closed her mind to it and
ran ahead.
    Reaching the tramped down brush alongside the
road, her heart pounded with dread knowing her mother's ravaged
body lay beyond. Saying a quick prayer that she'd be strong at the
sight, she took a deep breath as she burst out into the
clearing.
    A scream ripped from her throat.
    o0o
    Olaf wiped his brow and pulled back in the
shade, letting his foster-son take the lead. Magnus patted Odin's
neck, easing not only the horse's tension but his own. He always
enjoyed a good fight. He could not judge today's as one of them. It
did not take long for the Kinbrace men to subdue the raiders. But
some louts were more cowardly than others. Three such men stood
together, the one in the center slightly ahead like a spear. Each
man clutched a villager's child against their chest to escape the
two-bladed axes he and Feradoch wielded.
    He edged forward as he fingered his weapon's
long handle. His mouth tightened. Noting Feradoch's black Thor
stamped and snorted, ready to burst forward, he motioned his foster
brother to hold back. He stared at the first lout backing away. His
left arm clutched a young boy's waist so tightly his frightened
face turned red.
    "Put the lad down."
    He led Odin a step closer. The man snarled
and tightened his hold even more as he took another backward
step.
    "I willna tell ye again."
    He was bone tired. Heat from his helmet near
made his head steam. His lids narrowed as he decided. The young boy
was brave lad, trying hard not to cry. He stared at him until their
gazes met.
    "Lad. Obey."
    The boy gave the slightest nod.
    "Bend at the waist. Now!"
    Magnus' bellowed command demanded obedience.
Quickly, the boy did as Magnus told him and folded over the louts
arm—just in time.
    Whoosh!
    The speed of the two-bladed axe as it sliced
the air created a breeze.
    Blood spurted. The man's face froze in
shocked surprise less than a heartbeat before his head flew through
the air to bounce along the hard ground in front of the hut.
    At first, the dying man's arm convulsed then
slacked. As hot blood showered over him, the boy's shrieks sent
birds from the trees into flight. Screaming, he broke free and ran.
Unthinking in his need to put distance between himself and the
twitching body, he near overtook the rolling head until an old
woman blocked his path and caught him up in a tight embrace.
    The other louts took but one look at Magnus
and Feradoch's faces and read their fate. They dropped their human
shields, turned and made a mad dash for the woods beside the
huts.
    The thunder of Odin and Thor's hooves, along
with Feradoch's wild laugh were the last sounds they heard.
     
    Olaf left with several men to return to the
castle, but Magnus did not leave the village until he talked to the
men and women and learned what they needed. He found the old woman
who had helped the young