Page 25 of Vikingr
Steff had left the room while I'd been daydreaming of our shared future. Hopefully, only to bring the beverages she'd asked about.
My head was swirling with random thoughts. The meeting continues, the Albyans talking, Pam talking, my Vikingar talking, but I let my mind drift, seduced by the promise of happier times.
We would have children, many of them, tiny Vikingar running around with wooden axes. Some animals, maybe. We could have our own small ship, just for our family, maybe a few servants. I'd go raiding occasionally, to satisfy the urge that was in every Vikingr's blood, but I'd come home to my mate as fast as possible, to make sure she and my family were protected. We could have a garden. Some vella trees, the same that had grown in my parents' garden. I'd sit against one of the trees, my children playing on my knees, my mate cuddled up against my side...
"Something's wrong with him."
"Is he having a seizure?"
"Njal, what's going on?"
I ignored the voices that threatened to pull me from the idyllic vision of my future. Our future. Steff was right there with me, a smile on her face as she taught our children how to fight in Peritan style. Her hair was braided like that of a mated Vikingar, letting everyone know that she was mine. Jewels hung from her earlobes and around her neck, expensive gifts I'd brought home from my last raid. She leaned over and kissed me, her lips warm and soft against mine, and I returned the kiss with passion, wrapping my arms around her, holding her close...
"What's happening to him?"
"Get Klav, now!"
"It must be thefýst. There's only one way to cure it. You have to-"
I growled at the voices. They were distracting me. I pulled out my axe, ready to make sure they stopped bothering me.
15
Steff
Shouts made me run back to the meeting room, ignoring the boiling kettle.
It was chaos. Njal stood surrounded by his fellow Vikingar, his axe in his hand, his eyes glazed. It didn't seem like he knew what was going on around him. The Albyans had formed a protective wall in front of Pam, weapons drawn - I hadn't even realised they'd come armed - and ready to attack. Njal swung his axe, but it was an unsteady movement, as if he was drunk. One of the other Vikingar tried to grab his arm, get him to drop the axe, but Njal was too strong.
The Vikingr closest to me, a huge brute with hair braided into an elaborate bun who'd been introduced as Errik, had pulled out a small device and shouted into it.
"He's going mad, Klav! What do we need to do?"
"It's the fýst," a male voice replied through the device. "His mate is the only one who can calm him. Is she there?"
"So it's true. She is his mate," Errik said, staring at me with wonder. "Female, come here. He needs you."
I froze. What was he implying? Surely not...
"You're his mate, yes, now go and kiss him. They can't restrain him for much longer, not if they don't want to hurt him."
"I can port down with a sedative," the male on the other end of the transmission said. "But it's only a temporary solution."
This was crazy. Everyone was going mad.
"You better do what he says!" Pam called from the other side of the room. I couldn't see her behind her wall of Albyans. "Before he trashes this place! And us!"
As if to underline her words, Njal roared and broke from the Vikingars' grip. His axe held high, he was a formidable sight, if not for the dreamy expression and glassy eyes. He was fighting phantoms, not us.
"What do I have to do?" I asked, my voice shaking slightly. I didn't have time to think whether it was possible, whether he could be my mate. If the Vikingar thought I could help him, then I had to try. Everything else could come later.
"I'm not sure," Errik admitted. "Klav, any ideas?"
"You have to touch him. He's so far gone that a simple touch might not be enough. You might have to kiss him. Or skin on skin, I don't know. This hasn't happened in..."
The transmission broke off with a crackle.
I stared at the raving Njal and realised I wasn't scared of him. I was scaredforhim. And I wanted to help.
