Vikings battle Zeppelins while forbidden desires spark! (Swords Versus Tanks Book 2) by M Harold Page
Authors: M Harold Page
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scabbard.
Hjalti shook his head. "It’s why King Bloodaxe agreed to the Eternal Truce. There was no way of making war anyway." He steepled his fingers. "Aren’t the Lesser Runes enough?"
"Not in a pitched battle, unless you have numbers on your side," said Ranulph. "The Invaders’ guns can tear a man apart without penetrating his armour. And…" Now there was a horrible thought. "What if they bribe or threaten some priests into helping them?"
The brothers shifted nervously. In the Runic Wars resulting from the martyrdom of St Guthrum, priestly blessings had been enough to tip the balance in favour of the knights of the West, and they had been armed with mere spears and swords, not guns and ironclad war machines.
"And what…" continued Ranulph. "…happens when their wizards finally turn up? The war engines may not be magical, but they must have been transported using magic."
"Gah!" said Ragnar. "Let’s find some proper magic, then. We should have done that generations ago."
"There’s always the Land of Black Glass," said Hjalti. "If Olaf's saga is to be believed, they have flying stones, demonic hunting packs and such like. Perhaps they could be convinced of the threat."
"Ha! One ship out of twelve completed that voyage," said Ragnar. "And Olaf One-Limb-No-Eyes returned by luck alone. Not an adventure I should like to undertake."
Hjalti nodded. "Currents and shoals, not to mention sea serpents and no guarantee of a welcome when you arrive." His eyes narrowed. "I wager that the airship of the Invaders could take us there. Suppose, when it lands for Lord Lowenstein we slip some housecarls aboard…"
"Hjalti!" Ragnar rounded on his brother. "He is an ambassador."
"He threatened us," said Hjalti.
"Sorry," said Ranulph. "We can do nothing in honour against Lowenstein unless he breaks the truce."
"Hmm." Ragnar’s great brow furrowed. "Will they break the truce? If so, we should be ready to strike back."
Raunlph shook his head. "I cannot believe that Jasmine Klimt would be involved in such an act."
Ragnar grunted. "Well, there’s no hurry. We’ll have all winter for scheming and feasting."
Ranulph rose. "With your permission, I think I shall retire." Perhaps Maud’s grimoire had the answers.
However, when he returned to the hall, Lady Maud was long gone. It was only then that Ranulph recalled trying to kiss Colonel Klimt. Lady Maud had every right to feel insulted, as did the Colonel. No wonder both ladies had retired early.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Outside, Ranulph paused in the moonlit courtyard and waited for his eyes to adjust. He didn’t feel drunk. In truth, he was certain that he had been quite sober all evening. So, why had he tried to kiss the Amazon?
He collected Steelcutter from Thorolf, the chief of the Ragnar’s housecarls who stood guard in the porch.
"Torch, Sir Ranulph?"
Ranulph answered in Northern. "My thanks, but no, Thorolf. I know the way of old." If Jasmine had been a man, her obvious – if imperfect — prowess would have bound them in friendship. Keep the friendship, weave in lust, and what did you have?
He frowned. If Jasmine wasn’t in the hall, perhaps she hadn't retired. If she was in the latrines, he could wait for her return… and then there was always the stables. He had good memories of stables.
Or he could make amends to Lady Maud. She had not objected to sharing the guest chambers with only some easy-going servants for chaperons. She had praised him at the feast. She was proud and wild, and her quick mind drew him as much as her beauty: another friendship wrapped in lust.
He could love either lady.
Somewhere, a whistle shrilled. Ranulph’s hand found Steelcutter.
Thorolf laughed. "Jumpy, Sir Ranulph? That's just Lord Lowenstein looking for his harlot."
Ranulph stiffened. "Watch your tongue, housecarl! That's Colonel Klimt to you."
Thorolf shrugged. "As you wish, Sir Ranulph."
Ranulph relaxed. If Jasmine had wandered off, then his choice was made for him. In
Hjalti shook his head. "It’s why King Bloodaxe agreed to the Eternal Truce. There was no way of making war anyway." He steepled his fingers. "Aren’t the Lesser Runes enough?"
"Not in a pitched battle, unless you have numbers on your side," said Ranulph. "The Invaders’ guns can tear a man apart without penetrating his armour. And…" Now there was a horrible thought. "What if they bribe or threaten some priests into helping them?"
The brothers shifted nervously. In the Runic Wars resulting from the martyrdom of St Guthrum, priestly blessings had been enough to tip the balance in favour of the knights of the West, and they had been armed with mere spears and swords, not guns and ironclad war machines.
"And what…" continued Ranulph. "…happens when their wizards finally turn up? The war engines may not be magical, but they must have been transported using magic."
"Gah!" said Ragnar. "Let’s find some proper magic, then. We should have done that generations ago."
"There’s always the Land of Black Glass," said Hjalti. "If Olaf's saga is to be believed, they have flying stones, demonic hunting packs and such like. Perhaps they could be convinced of the threat."
"Ha! One ship out of twelve completed that voyage," said Ragnar. "And Olaf One-Limb-No-Eyes returned by luck alone. Not an adventure I should like to undertake."
Hjalti nodded. "Currents and shoals, not to mention sea serpents and no guarantee of a welcome when you arrive." His eyes narrowed. "I wager that the airship of the Invaders could take us there. Suppose, when it lands for Lord Lowenstein we slip some housecarls aboard…"
"Hjalti!" Ragnar rounded on his brother. "He is an ambassador."
"He threatened us," said Hjalti.
"Sorry," said Ranulph. "We can do nothing in honour against Lowenstein unless he breaks the truce."
"Hmm." Ragnar’s great brow furrowed. "Will they break the truce? If so, we should be ready to strike back."
Raunlph shook his head. "I cannot believe that Jasmine Klimt would be involved in such an act."
Ragnar grunted. "Well, there’s no hurry. We’ll have all winter for scheming and feasting."
Ranulph rose. "With your permission, I think I shall retire." Perhaps Maud’s grimoire had the answers.
However, when he returned to the hall, Lady Maud was long gone. It was only then that Ranulph recalled trying to kiss Colonel Klimt. Lady Maud had every right to feel insulted, as did the Colonel. No wonder both ladies had retired early.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Outside, Ranulph paused in the moonlit courtyard and waited for his eyes to adjust. He didn’t feel drunk. In truth, he was certain that he had been quite sober all evening. So, why had he tried to kiss the Amazon?
He collected Steelcutter from Thorolf, the chief of the Ragnar’s housecarls who stood guard in the porch.
"Torch, Sir Ranulph?"
Ranulph answered in Northern. "My thanks, but no, Thorolf. I know the way of old." If Jasmine had been a man, her obvious – if imperfect — prowess would have bound them in friendship. Keep the friendship, weave in lust, and what did you have?
He frowned. If Jasmine wasn’t in the hall, perhaps she hadn't retired. If she was in the latrines, he could wait for her return… and then there was always the stables. He had good memories of stables.
Or he could make amends to Lady Maud. She had not objected to sharing the guest chambers with only some easy-going servants for chaperons. She had praised him at the feast. She was proud and wild, and her quick mind drew him as much as her beauty: another friendship wrapped in lust.
He could love either lady.
Somewhere, a whistle shrilled. Ranulph’s hand found Steelcutter.
Thorolf laughed. "Jumpy, Sir Ranulph? That's just Lord Lowenstein looking for his harlot."
Ranulph stiffened. "Watch your tongue, housecarl! That's Colonel Klimt to you."
Thorolf shrugged. "As you wish, Sir Ranulph."
Ranulph relaxed. If Jasmine had wandered off, then his choice was made for him. In
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