Page 21 of Alien Viking's Passion

His instincts acted for him before he could think. He bent down, grabbed the net, and hauled it into the shortship. The person inside did look like Aretha.

“Watch out!” she said in a hoarse voice. “Behind you!”

The cairns gave off scraping noises as they started to move, as if they were falling over.

He spotted a dull, round eye.

They weren’t cairns at all. They were rock trolls.

That could mean that the third—

Something hit the back of his neck, and despite his desperate struggle to stay up, he plunged into darkness.

8

- Aretha -

Craxon gave off a soft groan and sagged forwards, one cheek hitting the wooden dashboard of the flying sled the Vikings called a shortship.

The three trolls towered over them, no longer needing to look like parts of the scenery. The third one was straightening up, having hit Craxon with its bare, rock-like fist.

Aretha was still inside the net. But she had been able to work one hand out of the crude mesh, and the shortship’s controls were within reach.

She hit the gas lever, making the sled surge forwards and scrape its wooden, cheerfully painted side against one of the trolls.

The trolls were not good at thinking on their feet — it took them so long to react to this unexpected development that the sled was out of their reach before they moved.

Aretha tried to adjust her position, but Craxon was still out of it and he was sagging towards her, his immense bulk pushingher away from the controls. She clenched her teeth together and held on, but his limp body was pushing her away. Now she couldn’t reach the gas lever, which was stuck on full speed.

“Craxon, if you can wake up, that would bereallynice,” she hissed. There was nothing more she could do than trying to steer the sled with one hand — the net held her other hand tightly to her side.

It was getting dark fast, and thick, cotton-like wisps of fog were drifting in around them. Ahead Aretha spotted a canyon with a narrow lake, and she hoped the shortship could stay in the air over water. If not, this would end very badly. There was no flat land on either side of the lake, and there was no way she could reduce the speed. Turning away from the lake would mean going back towards the trolls.

“Shit,” she exclaimed as the flying wooden sled zoomed out onto the mirror-calm surface. Craxon’s unresponsive mass was causing the shortship to lean to the side, which was pretty close to the water.

Thankfully it stayed above the surface, but the lake could be long, and there was no way to tell. The thickening fog surrounded her on all sides, so she couldn’t see where the shore began. She had no choice but to steer straight ahead, into the unknown, hoping the shortship would keep going and that the lake didn’t end in a sheer rock wall.

Craxon grunted and stirred, but didn’t seem to be waking up fully.

Aretha was sure the shortship was both slowing down and slowly sinking closer to the lake’s surface. This could still end really badly. She was stuck in a net that would prevent her fromswimming, and Craxon was still unconscious.

Suddenly there was a dark shape ahead, quickly coming towards them in the fog.

Aretha squealed and steered to the side, but it was too late. The shortship barely reacted to her frantic movement of the steering lever, and before she knew it the bottom of the sled was scraping along rocks and boulders. Then it stopped so suddenly that they were both thrown out.

She landed with merciful softness. And the first thing Aretha noticed was that she was lying on grass, on solid ground.

Craxon was up on all fours, trying to stand up. “Holy Zhor…”

Aretha took a second to breathe and check if she was badly hurt. When no part of her body reacted with piercing pain, she carefully used her one free hand to push herself into a kneeling position. “Craxon, could you cut me out of this, please?”

The Viking prince slowly turned to look at her, eyes swimming as he straightened, having to take a step to the side to stay upright. “Whu?”

“This net,” Aretha specified, tugging at the ropes. “It’s keeping me from moving.”

He staggered close, looking at her with a frown on his face. “You’re… inside a… net.”

“Yes,” she said slowly. He had obviously hurt his head. “And I don’t want to be.”

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