Death Blow Read Free Page B

save her from burning at the stake. Mús believed the tales, but Nyssa did not.
    “Did you see any sign of Bagan One-Eye and his men?”
    The beast gave a slight shake of his head.
    “We will stick to the plan, then. Travel by night and rest by day. I am sore weary. These two morns and eves I have slept in fits and starts. Healing the Viking has drained me. But my belly is empty, and I needs fill it soon.” The notion of the long trek to the beach to gather cockles and seaweed did not appeal.
    “The lion does not answer, yet you speak as if he has.”
    Nyssa flinched. For such a large man, the Viking moved with the quiet of a snake. She scowled at Mús. Why had he not warned her of Konáll’s approach? “Mús speaks, but not aloud.”
    The Viking wore a new tunic, one dyed to match the brilliant blue of his eyes. His golden hair brushed wide shoulders and made her aware of the ragged state of her locks and clothes save for his borrowed garb.
    “I will see to filling our bellies, lady mine. Cat, guard your mistress.”
    It took some moments after the Viking vanished for Nyssa to work her jaw back into place. How dare Konáll claim her? She belonged to no man and never would. Not unless the warrior knew how to break Aegir’s curse.
    Weariness slowed the blood coursing through her veins, and her knees wobbled. She settled on the floor her back to the wall in the shadows.
    Mús paced a circle and a deep rumble echoed around the cavern.
    “You have not hunted. Go. Fill your belly. You saw no sign of Bagan One-Eye and I am safe enough.”
    The cat growled and his golden mane quivered.
    “Be gone with you, Mús. I am too tired to argue.” She shuttered her eyes and kept a careful watch until the lion reluctantly left the secluded cave.
    ’Twas at least midmorn, she decided. The air warmed under the rays streaking through the cave’s entrance. A welcome breeze curled around her neck and took the chill from the tip of her nose. She blew out a long sigh.
    It had been a long journey fraught with close escapes. Twice she had faced rape, thrice burning at the stake, and once, capture by Saracen slavers. Over a sennight with sparse sleep, meager rations, and none to guard her back until Mús had found her washed up on the beach. Her eyelids grew heavier than a ship’s anchor. She could no longer force her eyes to stay open.
    A few moments of rest was all she needed.
    The bliss of the tension seeping out of her knotted muscles gathered her exhaustion into a thick cozy blanket. Images of long evenings in front of the hearth in Castle Caerleah’s great hall filled her head, and she smiled.
    Nyssa recalled Mama laughing at one of Da’s witty remarks. Felt the happiness of her people as they bustled about and prepared pallets for the coming eve. Saliva coated her tongue as she remembered the taste of Elsa’s sweet syllabub and healing potion served before the skald began his evening tale. She envisioned the raised brows and pinkened cheeks of the children gathered at the storyteller’s feet.
    Slowly, Nyssa succumbed to the heady pleasure of half-slumber.
    A plethora of features painted her dreams, the Viking Konáll’s full rosy lips, Mama’s dimpled smile, Da’s boyish grin, her weak-livered uncle’s sly smirk, and his spiteful trio of daughters’ false giggles. In less than four seasons, her father’s stepbrother, Ánáton, and his cruel wife had turned Castle Caerleah from a pristine, joyful holding into one where terror and torture held sway.
    She had to save her people.
    Nyssa tossed and turned. She bumped her forehead on a piece of jagged stone. The pain jerked her half-awake.
    Fierce, cruel fingernails gnawed into her arms.
    She opened her eyes.
    Bit her tongue to prevent a howl of sheer terror.
    Bagan One-Eye’s broken nose nigh rubbed hers.
    He grinned.
    She shuddered.
    Half his upper teeth were missing. Black slime covered two cracked and chipped canines. Dried blood caked his gums.
    Where was Mús?
    How had