“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 it wasn’t as heavy as the sword.
This shit was going down whether she fought with him or not, but she wasn’t going to stand back and let Stian go into 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.
20
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 who 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 who crossed them and wasn’t a part of their village. They would consider Agata an outsider. It didn’t matter that Stian 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 who 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 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. Stian stared at the body before him and felt no remorse over taking yet another life. He slowly lifted his gaze away from the corpse and slid it up his bloodstained legs covered in leather, over his chest, and snarled at the fact that he had his enemies’ blood on him.
He curled his hand that didn’t hold his sword into a fist and clenched his jaw. He had only been with his woman for such a short time, but these bastards thought to take her from him.
Even faced with this impending battle, all he could think about was Agata, praying to the gods that she’d been smart enough to leave, to listen to him.
“Fuck,” he gritted out. He straightened and ran a hand over his face, feeling the mixture of sweat and blood covering his palm.
An arrow came flying through the air, and he lifted his sword and blocked it. He swung his sword with a mighty roar, and sliced it clean through the man who came charging forward. Stian did this over and over again, taking men down who came to strike at him, feeling rage and power move through him. Another body fell to the ground, and another, and another.
Stian loved a good fight, loved the feeling of defending himself and now the woman he cared for. But Stian should have been prepared, because he’d known they wouldn’t stop if the elder died. He was foolish, and this was his fault, his doing.
A man gave a mighty yell swung out his ax, intending to take Stian’s head clean off, but Stian was ready. He blocked the ax with his sword, and right when he would have stumbled back from the force, the man’s head fell to the ground.
Stian stared at the headless body in confusion and lifted his gaze to see Agata standing there, an ax in her hand and blood sprayed along her body.
He pulled her behind him and cut down another man coming after him with one colossal swing of his sword. The men around him saw how many he’d taken down, and he would give them more pain, take more of their lives. A few in the distance stopped, looking unsure as they stared at their fallen comrades-in-arms.
“Come on. Come after me. Try to take what’s mine!” Stian shouted and slammed his fist on his chest. Rage, adrenaline, and excitement coursed through him. A gust of wind picked up and moved Stian’s hair. He felt Agata breathing hard behind him, and he felt pride his woman had taken out a threat, but was pissed she hadn’t listened.
With the violence surrounding them, Stian focused on the man who was closest to him, the one who seemed like he had big balls and wanted to be the one to end this. He would soon taste the tip of his sword. He moved forward at the same time Stian lifted his weapon and grinned.
“Stian,” Agata said in an urgent voice. He pushed her back a few feet, and the two men charged toward each other, their swords raised and their voices ringing out loud and clear. Their weapons clashed together in a ring of metal against metal.
“You actually thought to come here, take my woman, and destroy me?” Stian prompted in a fierce voice. The other man moved back a step. Stian swung out again, but the man was strong, determined. Stian grunted and growled out, wanting this man to lie lifeless beneath his feet like the other men who thought they could take from him again.
“You should have been put to death when you were a child, not banished.” The other man swung his sword and grunted when Stian blocked the move.
They went at it for several moments. Blood and sweat dripped into Stian’s eyes, but he refused to stop, refused to back down. Stian thought of his life as a child, the abuse he went through, the fact that no one in the village helped him, and sent him away just because he had enough of the torment.
They’d never given him a chance to explain why he’d done what he had, even if they’d already known.
With a mighty roar, he sliced his blade through the other man’s throat and watched him fall to the ground. For several seconds, he stared as the blood spew out of his throat and cover the ground. The other few men now retreated, accepting their defeat.
He turned when he felt Agata touch his back. She had wide eyes, looked shocked, but she cupped his cheeks, leaned up, and kissed him on the lips.
“I told you to leave,” he said against her mouth. Gore and death surrounded them, but having this woman beside him, pressed up against him, had warmth and hope filling him. He was pissed, angry that she didn’t listen to him, but pride filled him as well, because his woman hadn’t buckled under the threat. She’d come out and fought beside him, and he loved her for it.
Yes, Stian Dagmar actually felt love, and it felt pretty incredible.
21
Agata stood in front of the sea. The wind blew her hair around, and she held the satchel of herbs in her hand. She looked at the water, at the mountains surrounding them, then glanced at Stian who stood beside her.