again, she wasn’t going to try to understand this world or culture. She just wanted to make sure Stian wasn’t alone anymore.
That realization had her motionless for a second, had her stunned, and she felt so strongly about making sure Stian wasn’t alone anymore. Knowing that, knowing that she’d protect him as hard as he’d protected her, made this warmth fill her. Then she heard it, the sound of a horn being blown.
The woman grabbed Agata’s hand, squeezed it tightly, and said in a rushed voice, “You can still run. I can show you to safety.”
Agata shook her head before the other woman could even finish speaking. “I can’t leave him. I can’t run when he could very well die with these heathens coming after him.”
An arrow came flying through the air, and Agata landed on her face, the arrow barely missing her as it slammed in the tree beside her. Breathing out, dirt moving around her face, she grabbed the hilt of the sword that she’d dropped, looked around, and saw the horde of men coming at them. They had axes, swords, knives, and bows and arrows. They were shouting, blowing a horn to clearly tell everyone they were attacking. She turned around to look at Stian, scream for him to get ready for the ambush, but he was already outside, his sword in hand and his arm wrapped around her waist.
“Come, I need to get you to safety,” Stian said and hauled her off the ground. They ran toward the hut, and he pushed her inside. He had a rug pulled up and a trapdoor was on display. “Go. Inside, and take the tunnel all the way to the sea.” He pushed her forward, and before she could tell him she’d stand and fight these assholes he was gone.
Agata still had the sword, but it was bulky, and she saw a hand ax on the table. She picked it up. The handle was long, the blade rusty but sharp, and not as heavy as the sword. This shit as going down whether she fought with him or not, but she wasn’t going to stand back and let Stian go in this alone. She would fight beside him, because for the first time in her life she felt like she belonged somewhere, and she wasn’t about to let that go.
Chapter Twelve
Stian didn’t look back to see if Agata listened to him. She was a stubborn, strong woman, but he needed her to leave and find safety. He could handle these men that thought to come here and take from him. It didn’t matter that he was outnumbered or if he died tonight. He would take out as many as he could, and do so, sure with the serenity in him that his wife had gotten away. There was no doubt that if they killed Stian they’d kill Agata. But before they took her life they’d torture her, rape her, and wouldn’t stop until she no longer breathed.
These men, the villagers he’d grown up with, were cruel to anyone that crossed them, and wasn’t a part of their village. They would consider Agata an outsider. It didn’t matter that Stian had claimed her as his wife, because he’d been banished, and was therefore an outsider, too. But he’d known since the moment they told him to leave that they’d come for him. It was just a matter of when.
He swung his sword with a mighty roar, and sliced the man that came forward right through the middle of the belly. His enemy fell to his knees, looked right at Stian, and started gurgling blood as he cursed him before he took his last breath. The redness spewed from his mouth, covered his chin and chest, but Stian couldn’t take the pleasure in watching him die. The man fell to the ground face first, and Stian started cutting down the attackers.
Left, right, decapitated, a gaping wound through the arm. He attacked with fervor, didn’t stop until blood coated the air in a thick, tangy and metallic scent and flavor. The liquid covered Stian’s chest and face, and as he turned to take out one of the men coming forward the tip of his assailant’s knife sliced through Stian’s cheek.
Stian wiped the blood from his face and moved to take out the second man.
That realization had her motionless for a second, had her stunned, and she felt so strongly about making sure Stian wasn’t alone anymore. Knowing that, knowing that she’d protect him as hard as he’d protected her, made this warmth fill her. Then she heard it, the sound of a horn being blown.
The woman grabbed Agata’s hand, squeezed it tightly, and said in a rushed voice, “You can still run. I can show you to safety.”
Agata shook her head before the other woman could even finish speaking. “I can’t leave him. I can’t run when he could very well die with these heathens coming after him.”
An arrow came flying through the air, and Agata landed on her face, the arrow barely missing her as it slammed in the tree beside her. Breathing out, dirt moving around her face, she grabbed the hilt of the sword that she’d dropped, looked around, and saw the horde of men coming at them. They had axes, swords, knives, and bows and arrows. They were shouting, blowing a horn to clearly tell everyone they were attacking. She turned around to look at Stian, scream for him to get ready for the ambush, but he was already outside, his sword in hand and his arm wrapped around her waist.
“Come, I need to get you to safety,” Stian said and hauled her off the ground. They ran toward the hut, and he pushed her inside. He had a rug pulled up and a trapdoor was on display. “Go. Inside, and take the tunnel all the way to the sea.” He pushed her forward, and before she could tell him she’d stand and fight these assholes he was gone.
Agata still had the sword, but it was bulky, and she saw a hand ax on the table. She picked it up. The handle was long, the blade rusty but sharp, and not as heavy as the sword. This shit as going down whether she fought with him or not, but she wasn’t going to stand back and let Stian go in this alone. She would fight beside him, because for the first time in her life she felt like she belonged somewhere, and she wasn’t about to let that go.
Chapter Twelve
Stian didn’t look back to see if Agata listened to him. She was a stubborn, strong woman, but he needed her to leave and find safety. He could handle these men that thought to come here and take from him. It didn’t matter that he was outnumbered or if he died tonight. He would take out as many as he could, and do so, sure with the serenity in him that his wife had gotten away. There was no doubt that if they killed Stian they’d kill Agata. But before they took her life they’d torture her, rape her, and wouldn’t stop until she no longer breathed.
These men, the villagers he’d grown up with, were cruel to anyone that crossed them, and wasn’t a part of their village. They would consider Agata an outsider. It didn’t matter that Stian had claimed her as his wife, because he’d been banished, and was therefore an outsider, too. But he’d known since the moment they told him to leave that they’d come for him. It was just a matter of when.
He swung his sword with a mighty roar, and sliced the man that came forward right through the middle of the belly. His enemy fell to his knees, looked right at Stian, and started gurgling blood as he cursed him before he took his last breath. The redness spewed from his mouth, covered his chin and chest, but Stian couldn’t take the pleasure in watching him die. The man fell to the ground face first, and Stian started cutting down the attackers.
Left, right, decapitated, a gaping wound through the arm. He attacked with fervor, didn’t stop until blood coated the air in a thick, tangy and metallic scent and flavor. The liquid covered Stian’s chest and face, and as he turned to take out one of the men coming forward the tip of his assailant’s knife sliced through Stian’s cheek.
Stian wiped the blood from his face and moved to take out the second man.
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