Nena Ann Boelter (english books to improve english .TXT) 📖

Lothor asserted that no matter what method was decided, it should be delivered by his own hand. Others also requested the honor. Someone suggested that Nena be allowed to kill him to avenge her captivity. Then Club suggested that he not be killed at all—that he should be mutilated, then castrated and made to serve, the most severe form of punishment known to the Dor.

That seemed to appeal to Meln, who had spoken not a word since asking for suggestions. “To live a eunuch is far more shameful than to die a man,” he concurred.

Word had spread like wildfire through the village that a Northman had been captured. There had been no alarm or report of an attack, so Nena was sure it was one of the many foot soldiers sent to probe their defenses—one who had gotten too close and would now pay heavily for it. She chose not to attend his questioning and certain death. She did not need to see it. She was still wounded from the realization of why Jarl was really there—still embarrassed by her foolishness to have ever thought he was there for her. She would not make that mistake again, and would distance herself from any further decisions pertaining to the Northmen.

Instead she sat today with several other women, preparing hides for tanning, her latest attempt to find her calling. Everyone was on edge, but work still needed to be done. It was a tedious chore, scraping off the inner layers of fat and sinewy tissue with a dull knife. And no matter how careful she was, the smelly tallow had a way of coating her dress and skin by the end of the day. But even that was better than weaving. At least here she could take her frustrations out on something. She felt one of the other women’s eyes on her and looked down at the hide she was working on. In her fervor she had come dangerously close to scraping clear through it. She moved her blade to a fresh area.

Nena tried not to dwell on the fact that this was what she had to look forward to from now on. She had yet to see Gentok to give him the news. With the arrival of the main Northman army, and the increased guard at the cliffs, he had still not returned. So when he called her name now, it startled her.

“Nena. Your father requests that you come to the council immediately.”

Nena stood at the urgency in his voice and nodded. Gentok led the way through the village in silence, his pace brisk. Her news would have to wait.

“Is it about the captured Northman?” she asked.

“Yes,” Gentok replied without slowing.

Nena couldn’t help but wonder what this Northman could have possibly said or done that would require her presence before he was killed. Did he bring a message from Jarl? It couldn’t be that. Neither her father nor brother would have honored the request of an enemy to deliver a personal message. Had he mentioned coming for the treasure? Did her father wish to confront her about her shameful disclosure and force her to confess? But it couldn’t be that either; Gentok had not looked at her with accusing eyes. She reined in her guilty thoughts. She would know soon enough.

They were just outside the council tent when she heard it, the scream that set every nerve in her body on edge. Her eyes whipped to the small group of warrior horses off to her right. There they discovered the young man attempting to hold the raging bay. Nena would have recognized the horse anywhere. The stallion screamed again.

Nena stumbled and stopped.

But that would mean….

The Northman in the tent had to be….

Her mind reeled. But how? There had been no battle for him to have been captured. And they had said a lone Northman, which implied a scout. Jarl was never a scout. Gentok shifted his weight impatiently at the entrance, a curious frown on his face. Nena struggled to regain her composure, thankful, at least, for the warning and the opportunity to do so before being blindsided by his presence in front of the council. With her insides a swirl of emotions, but her face once again as blank as she could manage, Nena nodded and followed Gentok inside.

WHEN THE TENT flap lifted and all eyes turned toward it, Jarl did the same. At first the bright sunlit backdrop only allowed him to make out that there were two figures. The first was male. He dismissed it. The second set his heart pounding. Her tall, lithe silhouette and the way she moved with supple athletic grace were unmistakable. Every step she took revealed more subtle details in the dim light. First, the hint of tan color in her leather dress. Then her hair, darker than the rest of her, that still remained in shadow. She was like a goddess stepping from the smoke. Finally he could see her. His eyes devoured her. If he was soon to die, which it appeared that he might, it would at least be with the fresh image of her in his mind to take to the afterlife. She was so breathtakingly beautiful.

Pain exploded in his head as another blow, this time closer to the original mark, slammed him face down to the dirt.

As Nena entered, she saw Jarl kneeling to her right with Baldor standing behind him. She did not acknowledge him, and walked to stand equidistant from her father only a few strides away. Using her peripheral vision, she first noted the blood trickling from the back of his neck, then his lack of armor.

How was he alone and wearing no armor? Why? Did he think he could negotiate for the treasure? No. He would know better than that. She had told him the Teclan did not negotiate. So what then? Why would he leave his army