Chapter 5
Preparing for the day’s conflict, Annika was torn. Gerold was the enemy, yet…could Gerold be her lost friend? What had become of the boy who’d been her playmate and friend all those years ago? What would she do if they met on the battlefield again? What would he do? Did he even remember? Last night, there had been no sign of recognition. Still, she’d felt a spark of something, but what, she didn’t know. How could someone not remember? The thought saddened her.
Pulling on her worn leather tunic, Annika relished the whisper of the leather as it slid across her linen, fitting itself to her form. Each piece of her clothing, each layer, was part of the whole. Each piece telling the story of her warrior life.
Annika reached for the white stone in the pouch at her waist, fingering its edges as she removed it. The early morning rays caught the stone’s surface, showing Annika the lines normally unseen. The lines reminded her of how life was like those lines, some ending, some crossing others. She thought of Gerold and the risk she’d taken, perhaps a foolish one, to satisfy her curiosity. Was her line fated to cross his more than once? Would they connect and run together? She didn’t know, but the kiss told her something about the man he was.
“You are quiet, Annika, did you not sleep well?” Peder asked.
“No,” she answered. There were so many questions, Annika thought, as she cupped the stone in her hand, its edge cutting into her skin, a drop of blood flowing onto the surface. Was it a sign? Sighing, she turned to Peder, “I had to know.”
“And…”
“I still don’t know why the blade refused to cut this particular enemy or why he didn’t strike when he had the chance.” Or why he didn’t remember me, her thoughts continued. It was like he was two different men. She just knew he was her old friend, and he responded to her, but more as a man to a woman than an old friend. Is that such a bad thing?
Shaking her head at such romantic thoughts, Annika dropped the stone back into the pouch. The blood soaked into one of the cracks, becoming part of the stone itself. Sighing against the pull of the past, Annika shook the nostalgia away. She was a warrior, as was he.
“It is not important,” Annika finished.
“No? I worry about what will happen, how the others may react in the next engagement,” Peder expressed as he himself prepared for the coming day.
“Do you know something new?”
“No. I don’t know why the blade responded the way it did, but it must have had a reason. Just be careful. Today has the feel of something momentous.”
At the mention of the upcoming day, Annika smiled at the memories of watching Gerold in battle. The sight of his skill made her heart swell. He was as great as any warrior told of around the home fires. His strength and skills, in her eyes, were almost the equal of the legendary warrior, Gunnar Hamundarson. Still, he was the enemy, although a part of her refused to believe that, despite all the evidence.
Annika secured the pouch beneath her clothing near her heart as she heard her comrades call, “Annika, eat, drink, for the glory of battle calls to us.”
Coming up on the fire, Annika took the offered drink, comparing it to the remembered spicy taste of the drinks she’d had as a child. So different from the sour one she now consumed.
What would this day bring? As the streaks of sunlight glowed through the trees, Annika both rejoiced and feared the battle plan they would execute. If all went as planned, they would divide and conquer their enemy. But would that same plan bring the death of Gerold?
Annika remembered the day she’d gotten the stone in her pouch. How special it had been, for the man in her thoughts was associated with it. Now, the fates decreed one of them might die on the battlefield—or worse—end their days as a slave. Although, if it were Gerold who were the slave, she could claim him—but somehow, she didn’t believe he would accept that outcome.
“Why, why, why must this be?” She cursed under her breath. Her mind was busy creating scenarios in which both she and Gerold survived—and she’d get the chance to see if the boy she remembered still remained.
“It will be a great day,” Peder said, clapping Annika’s shoulders.
She turned toward him, only to be met by old, gray eyes. The eyes of an Old Woman.
“What would you give, what will be taken,
all for a life, the life one has forsaken.”
Before Annika could react to the words, the Old Woman disappeared. In her place, Peder, who stood where he had been, no indication of seeing or hearing anything.
“A great day? In what way will this day be great?” she asked him, shaken.
“Annika, who knows what the gods have in store, but I’ve a feeling...” He left off as the call to march came and the two set about making the best of what might happen, each with their own thoughts for the future.