I smelled old blood and the must of a dank room. My eyes peeled open, and I took in my surroundings. I was in a prison cell. Cool droplets of water fell on my head as I slumped against the hard stone wall. A guard walked up to the iron bars of my cell. He put one of his many keys into the lock and opened the door. The rusted hinges squealed horribly. The guard hauled me to my feet. My memory began to filter back, so I knew I would soon be dead. I was now a traitor. Accused of conspiring with the enemy and thus sentenced to death by public beheading. I've seen the punishment fulfilled a number of times. It never got easier to watch but I wouldn't have to watch this time.

He dragged me from my cell. I didn't bother resisting, and instead, I complied with his unspoken directions. There was no point in trying to break free now. I had no weapons, no armor, and my body was in no shape to fight. Even if I did manage to beat down this guard there were others around, and I was probably miles from Astrid's aid or any of her Viking friends. That is if they'd even be willing to save me, a knight.

Still trapped by the guard's iron grip, I walked up the ill-lit staircase. He pushed open a ceiling door above us. Blinding daylight threatened to burst my eyes, but I was ushered forward regardless. As I stepped up out of the musty dungeon and into the open courtyard, crowds of people around and above me spat and jeered openly at me.

I looked up from the wide flagstones of the yard to see my audience. There was the earl of the city, whom I couldn't recall the name of, my captain who had recently rendered me unconscious with the heel of his boot, my battalion commander, nobles, a large crowd of soldiers, and an even larger and much louder crowd of peasants. In the center of the yard sat a single block of wood with divot carved out of its top, perfectly fitted for a human neck. Alongside the execution block, stood a burly man dressed in long leather robes and a black cowl which concealed most of his facial features. He held a long scarred ax that was nearly as tall as him.

My escort shoved me ahead. I stumbled before the executioner. He stood motionless, letting me put my head on the block myself. I glanced up to see the Earl stand from his seat. Expensive robes draped behind him like wide silken tails. He held up a hand to calm the obnoxiously yelling crowds.

"Good people! We gather today to witness the execution of Sir Octavius of the Divide. He is accused of and charged with accounts of conspiring with our enemies. He hereby declared a traitor to Ashfield and thus sentenced to death."

The people roared again, and the Earl sat back in his portable throne.

Above me, the executioner hefted his ax.

"Have you any last words, Sir Octavius of the Divide?" he asked in a gravelly voice.

"None," I replied bluntly.

"So be it." The executioner swiped the blade of his ax one last time with a sharpening stone before raising it above his head.

I braced for the impact that I knew I wouldn't feel. I cringed but I heard a short thump. The whole courtyard gasped, and I somehow wasn't dead. The executioner grunted and dropped his ax with a clatter. A single black arrow protruded from his sternum, and before he could even drop to his knees three horse-mounted warriors galloped into the yard, snagged me by the shirt, and bolted. I barely had time to register what had just happened.

Ferocious yelling erupted behind me. A strong hand was gripping my collar while my back dragged across the rugged ground. Whoever the hand belonged to heaved, and with brute strength alone, hauled me high enough to where I could grasp the horse's pumping haunches. I pulled myself up and struggled to get into a sitting position.

Everything around me began to come into focus once I wasn't having my back ripped apart by gravel. In front of me, driving the horse, was a burly man. There was little protecting his toned back muscles. A large tattoo of a winding serpent went from his left shoulder down to the right side of his abdomen. His back-length hair was tied into a single braid. I noticed to our right and left were two more horses. A man dressed in light fighting garments rode the left horse, and a woman warrior rode the one on the right. She looked familiar. Was that Astrid? Did that crazy woman really risk her life and her friends' lives just to save me?

We shot out of the main gates like racehorses, but we didn't stop. I could hear our mount's labored panting. A fleck of nostril froth flew onto my cheek, causing a reaction of disgust. The horse was obviously becoming tired because her or his frame was growing shakier. I was nearly falling off of the haunches, and at that point, I secretly wished that we'd stop.

Someone must've heard my little prayer because the squad of three Vikings slowed their horses before the edge of the dense oak forest that stretched on for miles. The Vikings, one of which I could assume was my short-term lover, dismounted. I followed. They conversed in their own language. I knew the western dialect really well because I had spent some time over there a few years ago but they were speaking something different, so I had little clue what they were talking about. The Viking who had ridden on our left jabbed a thumb in my direction and talked with a stern tone. I looked to Astrid who, in turn, waved a dismissive hand and muttered something. The long-haired warrior I had ridden with just stood with his arms crossed across his muscled chest. The other glanced at me, spat, and rode away eastward.

"So, uh… what is this all about?" I asked.

Astrid cocked her head at me. "What do you mean what is this all about? We just ensured that your head remained on your shoulders."

"That other guy looked like he wouldn't mind cutting off."

"Don't worry about Helgi. He's hot-headed only did this because he had a debt to repay me. You probably won't see much of him anymore."

I nodded and crossed my arms. "And who's this?" I asked, nodding to the burly Viking who was still standing like a meaty totem.

"Geir. He's a long-time friend of mine. He won't kill you."

I turned to Geir. He shifted only his eyes down at me. "How do I say thank you?" I asked Astrid.

"Þúsund takk."

"Uh," I looked up at Geir and ruffled my hands nervously. "Þúsund takk."

The brute smiled and stretched out a hand. I took his hand to shake it, but he grabbed my whole forearm and brought me in for some sort of brotherly chest bump.

"Verði þér að góðu."

"He says you're welcome."

I beamed a compulsive smile. Perhaps I had made a new friend. At least an ally.

"So, what's the plan now? I mean, I still have my head and all, but I don't have a home anymore."

Astrid casually cracked her knuckles and mounted again. "You'll come with us to Valkenheim. We'll take a route through the forest. It'll be slow but…"

"Wait, wait, wait." I held up a hand. "Valkenheim? I don't think I'd fare any better there than I would on the execution block."

"Just act like you're my slave, and everything will be fine, yeah?"

I shrugged. "Do I have any other choice?" I went to hop onto Astrid's horse but she lightly kicked at my hand.

"No. Slaves don't ride with their masters," she said with a grin.

I replied with a scowl. Geir shifted forward in his saddle to make room for me. He yelled something at me and whistled as if I was a prostitute, earning a hearty laugh from them both. I climbed on top of the horse and we were off.

Our progress was slow at first because Astrid was set on a route through the forest. She said it would be harder to track us if we went through. I personally thought the fastest route would have been best because there's no way any knight lord would chase us into Valkenheim and perhaps provoke unwanted war right at the start of winter.

Eventually, the cool winds started to blow in from the strait that made up the border of our lands. We boarded a small merchant's vessel that took us across the strait to Valkenheim for a pitiful fee.

We rode on for another hour or so until Geir ordered me off of his horse. He then bound my hands with a rugged rope and pulled me along just like a slave. I struggled to keep up as we approached the wooden ramparts of a village. It must've been their home village, given that the gatekeeper gave Astrid and Geir a warm welcome. He gave me nothing more than a malicious chuckle when I shambled by.

My "masters" pulled me through the streets that were crawling with Vikings. A sudden fear filled me, being surrounded by the enemy, but I calmed myself. I trusted Astrid enough to keep her promise. At least I think I trusted her.

We walked uphill for ways until we reached a grand building that had a roof that looked like an overturned ship. Dragon heads carved from wood protruded from either side of the spruce doorframe. Astrid heaved open the heavy doors. A wave of warm air flushed over my face and the scent of smoke and ale. A large man was slouching in a fur-laden throne next to a woman, whom I presumed was his wife, who was in a similarly decorated throne. He stood up quickly when we entered, nearly knocking over an arm-length sword that had been resting silently against the end of the arm of his throne.

"Astrid! Geir!" he boomed as he walked past servants and other milling Vikings to greet us. His wife followed closely behind. The chief greeted them both warmly and rather loudly. They exchanged a few words that I couldn't understand. My attention was snagged when Astrid nodded in my direction, prompting the chief to look me over from head to toe. He stepped up to me and reached out with big meaty hands. I almost recoiled but fought the instinctive urge. The chief quickly felt my arms and gave me a light fist on my chest. He smiled and the three went on with their conversation. It only lasted a few minutes before Astrid guided my way out. I expected Geir to follow but he stayed in the hall.

With my hands still bound, Astrid and I walked down lightly frosted steps together.

"I don't like being appraised like a bull ready for the slaughterhouse."

Astrid didn't bother looking down at me. "You're going to have to get used to it quickly because you'll soon have a lot of people looking to recruit you," she mumbled.

"What do you recruit me?"

"You're a fighter, aren't you? You know how to use a sword. I can name more than a few chieftans that are looking for more strong men to join their ranks, regardless of where they're from."

"So, you're saying that I might have to fight alongside you Vikings?"

"I'm saying that you're already on Dreng's mind for recruiting and let me tell you, becoming a warrior instead of a slave will serve you much better. If you're a warrior, you're respected, you share in the spoils, and you become one of us. If you're a slave, you' treated like shit, will probably get shit on, and most definitely won't last more than a year. Now, you've already made yourself a traitor to your own people. Best not become a slave under another."

"I didn't become bound to you and commit treason against my own captain by choice!" I snarled. I received a great shock when Astrid slapped me hard across the temple with the back of her hand. Half of my head went numb, and I fell to my knees.

"Remember, Octavius, you are not respected or one of us. At least not yet."

-So, it's been probably months since I've updated this story. I have more plans for it so expect more chapters in the future!