Nena by Ann Boelter (digital book reader txt) 📕

words that Jarl could not hear, then Tryggr walked to his own horse and packs, before returning to her with a small vial.

“Here, rub this ointment on the raw spots. It will help with the healing and the pain,” Tryggr said as he handed her the vial.

“Gratitude, Tryggr,” Altene murmured, clearly surprised by his offering.

“None required. It’s just a simple cream and some I had left over,” Tryggr said gruffly as he turned away.

“Gratitude all the same,” Altene said to his retreating back.

Since leaving the village, Nena had increased their brutal pace. Her energy was boosted by the relief that no obstacles that hinged on anyone else’s actions remained in her path. Her anxious worries over whether Jarl’s guards would be sufficiently negligent for her to escape, or if the Sea Tribe chief would insist she delay, were all behind her. Her destiny was finally in her own hands and all she had to do was ride—something she was born to do. Nothing could stop them now.

Her thoughts moved ahead to what things would be like at home. For most of the tribe, life on the mountain would be relatively unchanged. Even though it seemed like a lifetime had passed since she had left for the tournament on the plains that spring, it was still within the same summer. The tribe would be preparing for winter—drying meat, tanning hides. Life would be going on as it always had. But what would that mean for her? She was a far different woman now than the warrior who had left only months before. And what remained of her family there?

Ruga would be gone and that thought pained her deeply. She knew she should not mourn him—that he was riding among their ancestors in the afterlife, but she couldn’t help it. She would miss him, miss his fun-loving carefree attitude, his antics, his teasing. It had been easier before when she was in Jarl’s camp, to imagine that he was home and alive, but when she returned home, she would have to face the truth. Life without him on the mountain would never be the same.

And her father—had he returned home? His fate had never been determined. Jarl swore he was not among the bodies, but Altene had sworn he was dead. Who was right? Someone had built the skygrave for Ruga. It had to be her father. If it was not, then her older brother, Lothor, might be chief. He would do well in that role, but between his responsibilities there and his new family, he would have little time for her. She would need to start thinking of starting her own family.

Her own family. A husband. Children. With the gods’ choice behind her, she would be expected to choose again; she knew that. And while the gods’ choice was never questioned as far as timing or suitability were concerned, second choosings were given no such leeway. It was not acceptable or practical for a chosen, but unmarried woman, to remain alone. She would be expected to choose from among whoever were the most qualified available men in the tribe at the time, and she would probably be expected to do it fairly soon. Her imagination moved on to sharing a tent and furs with a nameless Teclan warrior. She felt ill.

You must push that from your mind and focus only on your journey. Your thoughts are all twisted and backwards. Jarl has done this to you. Lack of sleep has only made it worse. Once you are home and rested, there will be no more doubts. You will be back among your people where you belong and everything will be clear again. One day you may even look back on this confusion with a smile. Look back to the time when some mysterious magic had ahold of your senses, but you were able to fight through it.

Nena prayed it would be true. It had to be. The gods had shown her the path to escape and then ensured she was successful. Surely, had she not been meant to do this, her plan would have failed. Comforted by that, she refocused her thoughts on the long journey ahead. She was doing the right thing. She just had to make it home.

When the scout reported they were still not gaining on her, Jarl slammed his fist into the map in frustration. He was running out of time. Her hard ridden trail was clear to follow and he knew where she was going. Like the flight of an arrow, she was headed straight for the Teclan mountain stronghold. If she made the Bloodcliff Gates, she would be lost to him.

“She’s moving too fast, Jarl.” Tryggr pointed out the obvious. “Even with the child. They are lighter than armored men, and our horses started out tired.”

“I don’t want excuses,” Jarl snapped.

“They’re not excuses, Jarl; they’re facts,” Tryggr exclaimed. “You used to be able to tell the difference when you weren’t thinking with your cock.”

Jarl’s eyes flashed with fury, but Tryggr wasn’t backing down this time.

“Go ahead. Glare at me. You haven’t kept me around this long because I blow smoke up your ass, and I’m not about to start now. If you wanted someone to fan your soft woman follies, you’d have brought Gunnar instead. You knew I’d tell you the truth. That’s why I’m here and he’s not. So when are you going to start listening to me?”

“Not today.” Jarl rolled up the maps and strode to his waiting horse. “Mount up,” he called over his shoulder to the other men and put the stallion back on Nena’s trail.

The report from the tracker the next day was worse. Though he had pushed them even harder, they had lost more ground. Jarl did not understand how it was possible.

“What do you want to do?” Tryggr asked after the tracker had left.

“Keep going.”

“For what? We’ll never catch her now before she makes the Teclan stronghold.”

“We keep going.”

“What are you hoping