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CHAPTER I:

✧. ⋆ always a cost

     𝕿HE WAILING WIND AND SHUFFLING footsteps were the only sounds heard in the courtyard of the fortress. The watery morning sun colored the sky a pale blue. A color void of hope and warmth. A cold fog clung to Eldrid's clothes as she sat hidden between the battlements. She tried to ignore it the best she could and focused all of her energy on the rows of slaves stumbling along the ground below her. Her fingers brushed the string of her bow in anticipation. The weapon was placed on her lap, but firmly in her hands, ready to be used. Unease was growing within her bones as she sat there. What was taking them so long?

She sat as still as a statue while the sun continued the climb, clearing the fog with its golden rays. Eldrid was not known for being patient and it took her every bit of strength she had to remain seated and not go looking for her men. After all they'd been through she knew she could trust them and she did, fully.

And her patience was paid of. Her eyes caught sight of a white owl soaring the sky. A small breath of relief left her lips but she could not linger on it for too longer. Her body tensed up as she prepared for the chaos that would soon follow. Her eyes went back down to the courtyard where the slavers were busy with counting the rows of slaves that had gathered there. Her eyes fell on one man who had just entered through the gate, being pulled forward by the chains bound around his wrists and ankles. He was tall and had brown hair that fell over his shoulders. His features were sharp, like that of a hawk. Out of her father's three children, Bjorn looked most like their mother. So much so it had hurt to look at him when she was taken all those winters ago. Whenever Eldrid felt the memory of her slipping away, her eyes would find her brother and she would remember. 

There was nothing, however, left to remind her of Yrsa. Her younger sister, as fair as the flowers that grew beneath the sun. Out of Brynjar's children she was the only one with warm eyes and a carefree smile. But nothing so fair was allowed to remain untouched in this world and Eldrid had forgotten what her soft features looked like. All she could remember were her pale hands, holding Eldrid's fingers tightly in a last, desperate attempt to hold on to freedom. She remembered like it happened yesterday. The feeling of her little sister's hands being ripped from her own as she was sold, ripped away from her home and freedom.

Which was the reason she was seated on the cold stones of the last Danish slavers fortress along the south coast at this very moment. From the sea to the Scandinavian lands to the east. She had rid every town, every market, of the men who dared to put others into chains. All while searching for her mother and sister. She knew it brought her father grief to see his daughter dedicate her life to violence and slaughter but his wishes had never held her back. She also knew he had made Bjorn swear to look out for his younger sister. Her brother, too loyal for his own good, would follow her to the ends of the earth and back. And maybe it had started because of a promise but Eldrid knew that was not the reason he had stayed.

For just a moment Bjorn glanced up at the battlements, almost as though he could sense she was thinking of him. Eldrid knew he could not see her, but he would know she was there. She could see his body tensing with the anticipation of the coming fight even from his distance.

One of the slavers stepped forward to search Bjorn for any possible weapons he might have hidden beneath his clothes. Eldrid knew they were expecting a rock, or maybe a stick but definitely not the short sword hidden in his breeches. Just as the slaver reached out his hands the white owl in the sky started making its descent. The animal dived down through the sky toward the slaver seated behind a table to count his victims. The very moment the owl reached the man and buried its talons in the slaver's eyes, the fight broke loose.

Bjorn reached for his short sword and pushed the blade into the slaver's throat. While Eldrid rose up from behind the battlements and fired her arrow into the chest of another slaver. Screams erupted all over the courtyard as the chained men and women searched for cover. Hoves came galloping through the gates. Eldrid's men came charging through the fortress like a storm send by the gods themselves. Every slaver met his demise by sword, axe or arrow.

Eldrid revelled in the chill left by the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her fingers ached from pulling back the string of her bow time and time again but she never lost her focus. Her arrows came raining down from the heavens like thunder send by Thor, striking down every enemy who had dared to take away the freedom of men and women alike. When she had fired her last arrow she lowered her bow, her eyes taking in the state of panic and chaos they had created. As always there would be one slaver left alive but it was never because of her. Anyone who would come close to her met his doom. Her sword was hungry and her heart was restless. She could not find the compassion within her soul to care about these men. Turning on her heels, Eldrid headed for the tower on her right hand. She kicked the dead guard aside, his lifeless body falling to the ground. She had used his corpse to block the door to stop anyone from entering the battlements without her knowing. She didn't spare the man a single glance, entered the tower and started descending the stairs to the battlefield below.

The bang of the door being thrown open echoed through the staircase. Hurried footsteps came running up the stairs. Eldrid reached for her sword and pulled it out of its sheath. She came to a halt and waited for the footsteps to reach her. A man came running around the corner, his panicked breaths were annoying to her ears. He was in such a hurry to get away that he did not even notice the Dane standing before him until he had almost bumped into her. His entire body froze, his eyes wide with fear as he looked up at her.

Eldrid raised her sword, pointing the tip at his heart. The man opened his mouth, maybe to pray or maybe to beg. She would never know. Because before even one word had left his lips she had pushed the steel of her weapon through his heart. A startled gasp escaped his mouth. His body jerked unnaturally before becoming still. She pulled her sword back and watched with little interest as his corpse collapsed to the ground.

Another set of footsteps came rushing up the stairs and Eldrid raised her weapon again, only to lower it when she saw it was her brother. Their men must have released him from his chains so he could join in the fight. His eyes went to the corpse of the slaver and for a second his eyes hardened with hatred before he managed to compose himself. When he turned to look at her all the hatred was gone and instead replaced with the calm wisdom she was used from him.

"There is no one left," she said, pointing with her sword up the stairs.

Bjorn nodded. "Then let's finish this." He turned and headed back down.

Eldrid followed him as they made their way out of the tower and out unto the courtyard. Some men were working on freeing the slaves while others were searching the fortress for silver and food. In the middle of the courtyard was the last man of the fortress left alive. He had been forced on his knees and was being watched closely by Kara. The raven-haired woman held the tip of her sword against his neck, her eyes watching him with cold disinterest. But even more chilling was the white owl seated on her right shoulder. Blood colored its talons bright red and its menacing eyes were staring at the slaver as if the animal was questioning his right to breathe. Ice, for that was what the animal was called, had been Kara's loyal companion for such a long time that Eldrid could barely remember seeing her friend without her trusted friend resting on her shoulder.

As soon as Kara saw Eldrid walking towards her, she lowered the sword. The slaver seemed relieved, but it disappeared as soon as Eldrid stepped into his few. Eldrid had been told her eyes looked as wild as a wolf about to jump its prey during a fight. She hardly believed it but whenever men looked at her with fear on their faces, it was hard not to believe it. Raising her sword she pointed the tip right beneath the man his chin, lifting his head so he was forced to look at her.

"Do you know who I am?" she questioned, her voice stone cold.

The man opened his mouth to respond but did not seem able to answer.

A sigh left her lips and she pressed the tip of her sword against his skin, raising her eyebrows as a silent question.

Fear seemed to make it impossible for the man to speak and so she could only catch one mumbled word. Death.

She couldn't help herself and scoffed at the mention of the name she had been given by the people of Denmark. She had heard the whispers of the Lady of Death who travelled the coast with her band of merciless shadow-walkers. It was said she could into a wolf and that looking at her would mean your death. Eldrid had to admit that to be able to shapeshift would have been magnificent. But the idea that she had help from the gods in accomplishing all that she had made her want to scream in anger. The gods had long abandoned her. She had not come here because of sacrifices and mumbled prayers. She stood here because of her own strength.

It took her all her restraint to not push her sword through the slaver's throat right then and there but she needed answers and so she dropped her sword. "Tell me, have you any knowledge of a woman named Asfrid and her daughter Yrsa?"

The slaver whimpered and shook his head. "P-please, I see so many faces, hear so m-many names! I can not possibly remember them all."

Eldrid leaned in closer to the man, her voice like a wolf's snarl when she spoke. "They will have been sold to you by the Earl Harkon. And trust me, you would remember him."

She could tell by the way the man started trembling that he did indeed remember. Earl Harkon had been a huge man and known throughout Denmark for his cruelty. Though he now roamed the endless cold depths of Hel in disgrace. She had made sure he would never feast in Valhalla. For what he had done to her family, she wished she could have killed him a thousand times over. But it was done now. He was gone and she was left trying to mend the wound he left behind.

"Who did you sell those women to?" she snarled.

The man made the quick decision that he feared her more than he feared the slaver he sold her family to and finally started speaking. "I do not remember the name of the man. All I know is that he was setting sail to England!"

Hot fury coursed through her veins at the mere thought of her family in the hands of those weak, god-fearing christians. This man had condemned her mother and little sister to the wild ways of the sea and poisonous whispers of priests. Her rage burned all her rational thoughts away and with one motion she pushed her sword through the man's throat. She could hear her brother sigh behind her but she paid him attention. She watched as the life slowly drained out of the man in front of her before she pulled her sword back, the slaver's body collapsing on the ground. Only then did she turn to look at Bjorn and Kara, who had clearly been sharing glances behind her back.

"We could have gotten more information from him," Bjorn said, his eyes burning into her soul.

Eldrid straightened her shoulders. "He refused to talk and so I refused to spare his life." She walked past her brother and towards one of the torches that was attached to the wall. After quick glance around the courtyard she saw all the slaves had been freed and her man stood waiting for her next command. She threw the torch on a cart loaded with hay. It caught fire immediately, the flames spreading to the surrounding walls. Soon the entire fortress would be a sea of flames. She turned to face her men. "Burn it all," she ordered.

While the former slaves made their way to their freedom, the Danes set the entire fortress on fire. They walked out with the silver, food and their lives. For not a single man had lost his life in the battle. Eldrid took the lead as they walked outside, her heart burning with anger.

"So, to England it is then?" Bjorn questioned, coming to walk beside her as they headed back to their camp in the woods.

"To England it is," Eldrid confirmed.

The Lady of Death was coming for every Saxon who had dared to touch her family.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE

Aaahh I can't believe the first chapter is already here. I am so excited to start this journey. Eldrid is a very angry girl at the moment but I'm so excited to show you guys how she'll develop! There is more to the situation than a simple quest for vengeance ;). I really hope you guys will learn to love her and enjoy her journey as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Btw, any guesses to which slaver might have more information about her family? ;)

I can't promise weekly updates with school starting again. But if there is an update it will be on wednesday! So be sure to keep an eye open! Also please leave some comments and votes. I would love to hear your thoughts and hopes for this story.

Much love,

xx Nelly