Page 16 of Alien Viking's Plunder

“Her name is Josie,” he told them. “Take her down below. Don’t lock her up.”

Herjolf looked her up and down. “She is a captive, yes? She used to be one of their warriors, but now she’s part of our plunder? Seems dangerous to leave her free to run around.”

“She has nowhere to go while onboard,” Bragr explained. “There’s not much she can do to harm the ship. And she’s not happy being out here with the River all around us. Actually, Sigrid, you take the rudder. I’ll see to her myself.”

He carefully exchanged positions with the shieldmaiden and took Josie’s hand. Her alien eyes flew open at the touch.

“Let’s get you somewhere you’ll feel better,” Bragr said and led her towards the hatch. She followed without resisting.

He took her down to the little wardroom and sat her down at the table. “You’ll be safe here.”

Josie’s legs dangled from the too-high chair. “Who they was?”

Bragr’s head snapped back. “You can speak Garda?”

“Not can speak much,” she said uncertainly in her bright voice with a hint of hoarseness. The words were understandable, spoken slowly with an exotic alien lilt. “But understand much speak. Who they was?”

“That was Gornt, the former Earl of Hjalmarheim. He wants to kill me and take back the earldom.”

“Gornt,” Josie said. “Bad earl.”

“Bad earl,” Bragr agreed sincerely. “And those were his skrymtir. He has other warriors too. But they are getting better. He’s practicing his dark magic with them.”

“Skrymtir. They take me.” She pointed to herself.

“Theytriedto take you,” he corrected. “But I took you right back.”

“They injure.” She pointed at his thigh, where the blood had soaked through his pants and made a dark trail all the way to his ankle.

“Being cut by a skrymtir is not honorable,” he grunted, feeling the sting from the cut. “Nor is cutting them down. They are dead already. I got careless.”

Josie opened a small pouch attached to her belt and took out a roll of a loose, white fabric wrapped in a transparent film. “I attack the scratch.”

Bragr had to stifle a smile. Her speech was incredibly cute, like that of a child. She clearly used the most fitting words she knew. “Attack it if you want.”

She jumped down from the chair and pointed to it. “You.”

He sat down, sensing the heat that her round body had given it, offering his thigh for her inspection. He let his arm hang down behind the chair, ready to slap her away if she tried something silly. Shewasa captive. And this was unusual behavior for a captive, offering to heal her captor.

“You hold,” she said and indicated she wanted him to keep the cut fabric out of her way.

He grabbed the cut in his pants with both hands and ripped a long rend in it, exposing the injury and giving her space to work.

Then he watched as she poured on a liquid, cleaned the cut, and then fastened a folded-up pad of the white fabric on his skin with sticky pieces from another roll. It only stung a little, and he could see from her movements that she wasn’t used to doing this.

And she must be able to see from the movements in his crotch what he was feeling. Her touch was light and cool, and he couldn’t stop the swelling and twitching that happened all by itself.

She didn’t comment on it, just worked quietly.

When she was finished, he was no longer bleeding and the wound was covered.

“Thank you,” he said, prodding the white patch. “That feels better.”

“You needstitches,” she said, using an alien word. “Is better.”

Bragr got up, partly to alleviate the awkward pressure in his crotch. He got a pot ofmyodfrom a stack and poured for them both. “As an injured man, I need something to strengthen myself on.”

Josie sniffed the brew. “You not is bad injured man. What this?”

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