she suffer in silence; she had achieved her greatest desire.
Ragnar stopped walking, staring down at the water below them. The grass was damp from earlier rainstorms, but now the sun warmed the earth. He didn’t know how they were going to make it back, but likely their best course of action was to travel along the coast. If they happened to see ships, they could try to hire one to take them back.
‘You shouldn’t push yourself too hard,’ Elena warned. ‘You need to regain your strength.’
No, what he needed was space away from her. A chance to clear his head so he wouldn’t give in to the instinctive urges taunting him.
Ragnar reached down for a fallen branch, using it to help support his weight as he moved across the field. A faint noise caught his attention and he stopped, listening hard.
Elena frowned. ‘Did you hear something?’
He nodded, pointing further inland. ‘It was coming from over there.’ Leaning against the staff, he continued his pace, moving towards the sound. It was as if a large group of people was approaching.
Her face broke into a smile. ‘Thank the gods. They’ll have food and supplies. I think we’re saved.’
But as the sounds grew louder, he realised what he was hearing. These people were fleeing, not travelling. Dozens of men, women and children were running across the plains, while behind them, he spied men pursuing them on horseback.
Warriors with weapons drawn, ready to strike them down.
Chapter Five
E lena’s heart was racing and Ragnar pushed her towards the fleeing women. ‘Run!’ he commanded.
She started to obey, but then saw that he was holding his ground, staring at the riders. Though he had only a sword, he held it steady, waiting for the men to approach.
The calm in his eyes belied the storm that was to come. She’d seen Ragnar fight before and he became a different man when the battle rage swept over him. His sword became part of him, cutting down any enemy who threatened those under his protection.
Few survived and he granted no mercy.
But this time, he stood as a wounded man. Upon his face she saw the grim determination of a man who would sacrifice himself before he’d allow any man to harm her. But even with his strength and fighting prowess, he could not hope to bring down all the men on horseback. He was outnumbered and likely he was shielding her, granting all of them time to get away.
She froze in place, stopping one of the Irishmen. ‘He needs help,’ she pleaded. ‘He can’t stop them alone.’
The man stared at her before she realised he could not understand her words. But he cast a glance at Ragnar, his expression holding surprise that a wounded man would stand against their enemy.
One of the riders lifted his sword, prepared to strike him down. Instead of raising his own weapon, Ragnar stood calmly, waiting for the killing blow.
Freya, protect him.
She knew what would happen—she’d witnessed it a thousand times. He would hold steady and the act of suicidal madness twisted his enemy into questioning their actions. No sensible man would stand and face charging horses.
Even as she trusted him, Elena couldn’t bear to think of anything happening to Ragnar. He’d been her friend for so long, always there when she’d needed him. She bit her lip hard to prevent herself from interfering and when she stepped back, the rider’s attention flickered for a moment.
It was enough for Ragnar to twist his sword, slicing the rider from his horse. The animal whinnied, rearing up, and Ragnar seized the reins, barely dodging another blow before he swung up on the left side, protecting his wounded leg.
It took all of Elena’s courage to remain among the Irish instead of running towards him. She knew she was a distraction and a danger if she dared to intervene.
He guided the horse forwards, keeping his sword poised.
‘You’re Norse,’ one of the riders said in their tongue.
‘I am,’ Ragnar countered. ‘My name is Ragnar Olafsson from
Ragnar stopped walking, staring down at the water below them. The grass was damp from earlier rainstorms, but now the sun warmed the earth. He didn’t know how they were going to make it back, but likely their best course of action was to travel along the coast. If they happened to see ships, they could try to hire one to take them back.
‘You shouldn’t push yourself too hard,’ Elena warned. ‘You need to regain your strength.’
No, what he needed was space away from her. A chance to clear his head so he wouldn’t give in to the instinctive urges taunting him.
Ragnar reached down for a fallen branch, using it to help support his weight as he moved across the field. A faint noise caught his attention and he stopped, listening hard.
Elena frowned. ‘Did you hear something?’
He nodded, pointing further inland. ‘It was coming from over there.’ Leaning against the staff, he continued his pace, moving towards the sound. It was as if a large group of people was approaching.
Her face broke into a smile. ‘Thank the gods. They’ll have food and supplies. I think we’re saved.’
But as the sounds grew louder, he realised what he was hearing. These people were fleeing, not travelling. Dozens of men, women and children were running across the plains, while behind them, he spied men pursuing them on horseback.
Warriors with weapons drawn, ready to strike them down.
Chapter Five
E lena’s heart was racing and Ragnar pushed her towards the fleeing women. ‘Run!’ he commanded.
She started to obey, but then saw that he was holding his ground, staring at the riders. Though he had only a sword, he held it steady, waiting for the men to approach.
The calm in his eyes belied the storm that was to come. She’d seen Ragnar fight before and he became a different man when the battle rage swept over him. His sword became part of him, cutting down any enemy who threatened those under his protection.
Few survived and he granted no mercy.
But this time, he stood as a wounded man. Upon his face she saw the grim determination of a man who would sacrifice himself before he’d allow any man to harm her. But even with his strength and fighting prowess, he could not hope to bring down all the men on horseback. He was outnumbered and likely he was shielding her, granting all of them time to get away.
She froze in place, stopping one of the Irishmen. ‘He needs help,’ she pleaded. ‘He can’t stop them alone.’
The man stared at her before she realised he could not understand her words. But he cast a glance at Ragnar, his expression holding surprise that a wounded man would stand against their enemy.
One of the riders lifted his sword, prepared to strike him down. Instead of raising his own weapon, Ragnar stood calmly, waiting for the killing blow.
Freya, protect him.
She knew what would happen—she’d witnessed it a thousand times. He would hold steady and the act of suicidal madness twisted his enemy into questioning their actions. No sensible man would stand and face charging horses.
Even as she trusted him, Elena couldn’t bear to think of anything happening to Ragnar. He’d been her friend for so long, always there when she’d needed him. She bit her lip hard to prevent herself from interfering and when she stepped back, the rider’s attention flickered for a moment.
It was enough for Ragnar to twist his sword, slicing the rider from his horse. The animal whinnied, rearing up, and Ragnar seized the reins, barely dodging another blow before he swung up on the left side, protecting his wounded leg.
It took all of Elena’s courage to remain among the Irish instead of running towards him. She knew she was a distraction and a danger if she dared to intervene.
He guided the horse forwards, keeping his sword poised.
‘You’re Norse,’ one of the riders said in their tongue.
‘I am,’ Ragnar countered. ‘My name is Ragnar Olafsson from
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