Promises

Promise me

He ran into the room, straight towards the swords mounted in the wall. He dragged a chair over and reached out toward the bottom one. The boy’s small hand clasped over the cold metal and pulled it down. The weight of it caused him to tip over and crash to the floor. He laid there stun for a few moments until a hand reached down and pulled him up. When his vision cleared he looked up into Gunnarr’s face.

Gunnarr shook his head at him, then dragged him by the arm out of the room. The boy looked back at the sword and tried to reach it, but it was just out of his grasp. Downstairs they could hear swords clashing and screams. The boy knew his father would be down there, he had to help him! He tried to wrench free from Gunnarr’s hold but only had about three seconds of freedom before he was lifted off the ground by the back of his shirt.

Gunnarr carried him into his mother’s bedchamber. His mother ran to him and hugged him wildly.

“My son!” She cried out.

Gunnarr’s brother, Ormarr came running into the room. Blood ran off his sword. The little boy’s mother rushed up to Ormarr and gripped the front of his jerkin.

“Brandr! Tell me where is he?” She choked out.

Ormarr looked over at Gunnarr and shook his head. The woman saw his look and started to collapse. Ormarr held her up as Gunnarr slammed the door shut and started barring it.

“Lady Vigdis you must start packing, anything you think you and Randwulf may need.” Gunnarr ordered over his shoulder. He then ran over to the wood work on the wall near the fireplace. He felt along the edge of a carving and pushed until a small opening appeared.

“My lady, you must hurry! Please pack light.” Gunnarr urged again.

Lady Vigdis wiped the tears from her eyes and kneeled down to her son. “You have so much of your father in you.” She told him quietly as she cupped his cheek in one hand.

Gunnarr ran back to the hidden passage. “We must go now my lady!” He looked over at Ormarr who was throwing clothes and weapons into a satchel.

The little boy only seven felt as if his world was collapsing. His father was dead, he understood that. He stared into his mother’s deep blue eyes, so much like his own, as the whirlwind swirled around him. She gave him a sweet smile and he felt himself grow calm.

“Even as a little boy you have made me and your father proud. Never forget that, your father and I loved you.” Her voice cracking as she said father.

“My lady!” Gunnarr yelled.

It sounded far away as the boy kept staring into his mother’s eyes. She pressed something cold and cool into his hands, hugged him tightly and stood up.

“Take him Ormarr, Gunnarr; I will shut the portal.”

Ormarr shook his head. “No my lady, I will shut it. Go now!.” He tried to shove her towards it.

“Ormarr.” she said quietly stopping him. He looked down at her, a woman he had secretly been in love with all these years. “I simply can not live without him, my husband.” she said with a small smile. “Rand needs both of you now. I would never be able to hide without being recognized.”

They heard running footsteps coming closer.

Ormarr shook his head again. “No…”

“Go.” was her soft reply.

Gunnarr called to his brother. “Ormarr we must.”

The little boy seemed to realize what was happening as Ormarr joined him in the tunnel and his mother stood outside it. He started struggling and crying to get out of Gunnarr’s hold.

“Momma!” he cried brokenly.

“Randwulf Brandr Hylgaard never forget your father, me, where you come from, but most importantly never forget who you are.” she looked to Gunnarr and Ormarr. “I trust you both to care for my son and I know that someday you will help him regain what is rightly his.” With one last look at her son she closed the portal. “Goodbye.” She whispered.

She had just taken a few steps from it when her bedchamber door burst open. Soldiers poured in surrounding her. One tall light haired man stepped into the circle until he was directly in front of her.

“Where is he?”

She kept quiet. He slapped her face with such force that it dropped her to her knees.

“Where is your son!” he yelled.
Lady Vigdis quietly rose and stood in front of him with her head held high. “Gone.”

The light haired man’s eyes darkened. “Then the ring, it wasn’t on your husband’s hand.”

She again remained quiet. He held a dagger up to her neck and pressed.

“Answer me!”

“You’re a treacherous snake Sigurd Falkoneg! My husband took you in and trained you to be the captain of his guard…”

He pressed the dagger into her neck, cutting her off, deeper until blood started to trickle from the wound.

“Your husband was to soft to rule. I’m just sorry I didn’t put a dagger in his back sooner.”

She spit on him.

His gloved hand wiped it from his face. “You will pay for that. I just might make you watch as I butcher your son.”

“You’ll never find him or the ring and everyone will know you for the imposter you really are. And someday my son will kill you.”

He was just about to strike her again when she leaned forward and slid her own neck against his dagger. He stood there a moment staring down at the now lifeless body.

“Pity.”

One of his men stepped forward. “My lord, without the ring or proof of the boy’s death it may be hard for the people and the other overlords to accept your rule.”

“Then I will show the people and other overlords I rule not with a ring, but with force. Search the castle and surrounding grounds. The boy couldn’t have gone far.”

The soldiers left the room never knowing that on the other side of the wall Gunnarr had covered the same little boy’s mouth they were searching for to muffle his scream as he watched his mother slit her own throat.

Ormarr and Gunnarr raced him down the long tunnel. They finally emerged outside where a small stable held horses. Gunnarr held him close as they galloped away. Randwulf realized he was still holding onto what his mother had given him. He looked down at a large ring, the top was flat with a snarling dragon. It’s one eye was a dark red ruby and underneath the dragon was writing he couldn’t quite read yet. He clutched it harder until it dug deep into his palm making it bleed. Yes, mother I will never forget he thought to himself.



20 years later



The wind whipped past her trying to tear her off the horse, but she just leaned down farther. Rider and animal almost seemed like one, moments like this was what truly made Lady Brynnhild Lundvall feel alive. Just her and Valkyrie against the world. As she emerged out of the woods and approached the manor’s stables she slowed her horse, leaned up more, and tried to restore her hair into order again. As she handed her horse off to one of the stable hands she heard a tsking sound that could only come from Fritha. Her mother had died in childbirth one year after her own birth and Fritha who was assigned to be her wet nurse and was now really only her lady’s maid had been a surrogate mother ever since.

Brynn tried once again to smooth down her hair and dust the dirt from her skirts as she turned around.

“My lady!”

Brynn walked over to Fritha and put an innocent smile on her face. “Where you looking for me?”

Fritha put her hands on her hips and Brynn knew Fritha had been working herself up into a fine fit. In hopes to avoid the usual rant on her very unlady like manners, Brynn started toward the manor.

“Looking for you! Well of course not my lady, why you were only missing well into afternoon and now have missed supping with your father!”

Fritha managed to keep in step with Brynn even though she was very short, on the portly side, and had more years behind her than ahead. While Brynn was of medium height and had just turned twenty she couldn’t seem to shake the obstinate woman. Brynn waved a hand in dismissal and entered the manor heading towards her room.

“Suppers last long, Fritha, I’m sure father will still be down there after I refresh myself.” Suddenly she turned and hugged Fritha and clapped her hands in excitement. “Valkyrie finally jumped today! Oh, it wasn’t terribly high, but still!” Her eyes sparkled. “I just knew I could get her to do it!” Then she whirled up the stairs into her room.

Fritha followed her. “Barbaric, jumping a horse like that.” but the slight smile on her face took the edge off her words. Fritha stood there a moment and watched as Brynn climbed into the hip bath to wash the dirt off herself. Brynn was thin, but curved well in the right places and filled out her bodices more than well enough. Her long shiny brown hair had a slight wave to it that called out for a man’s fingers to get tangled up in. But Fritha thought it was Brynn’s eyes that were her best feature, they were a jade green framed by dark arching eyebrows and long, thick, dark eyelashes. The greens seemed to be forever changing depended on Brynn’s mood and emotions.

Fritha grabbed a gown from the armoire. Brynn was a wild, compassionate, young, reckless, woman; and Fritha loved her like she was her own daughter. That was why she couldn’t bear to see Brynn married off even though she was well past the usual marriageable age. Brynn’s father had loved her mother to much to force anything upon his only daughter, perhaps they were both just to selfish to let Brynn go. However Brynn’s older brother was another matter entirely. Fritha shivered as she prayed that Lord Avindor’s health would improve and he would live on long until Brynn was safe and protected by a husband.

“Fritha, you look quite pale, come and lay on the bed. Really. I can dress myself thank-you. Now lay down and rest.”

Fritha smiled at the lady telling the servant to rest. “I’m fine just a slight chill.”

Brynn’s brow was still furrowed though. She quickly slipped into the mauve gown Fritha had laid out. Fritha decided to distract her away from her health.

“Your father is dinning in his chambers tonight.”

Brynn’s head snapped up and she froze, hairbrush in hand. “Is he alright?”

Fritha remembered the paleness and labored breathing of Lord Avindor earlier, but he had been able to walk short distances. “A little tired, but that is not the reason he is dinning in his chambers.”

Brynn laughed, but Fritha knew her father’s health was worrying her because it lacked its usual jovialness.

“What gossip do you have for me?”

Fritha primly folded her hands in front of her. “Really, now my lady, I don’t gossip. However, when your father called me into his chambers to tell you to sup with him there as soon as you got back, I saw guests at a table with him.”

Brynn was very confused. “Guests?”

“Two. Two males.” Fritha’s eyes sparkled and Brynn could almost see her as a young mischievous girl, which she probably had been and why she let Brynn get away with a lot of things that would make other lady’s maids faint from shock.

“And my lady, I must say one of these two males was of the younger variation and quite handsome. He was very tall, had such sinfully black hair, deep blue eyes, and..”

Brynn interrupted her. “I swear if this is father’s attempt at matchmaking again! You better not be apart of this!” She said glaring.

Fritha just sniffed at that and ushered her out the door. “I have no part in this. If I had I wouldn’t have let you go off and ride that animal before hand.”

Brynn couldn’t believe Fritha was completely innocent but let her lead her to her father’s chambers anyway.

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“Ah, and here is my beautiful, if not excessively tardy, daughter.”

Brynn rushed over to her father so he wouldn’t have to stand up. She leaned down and kissed his cheek and whispered her good fortune at getting Valkyrie to jump. Her father beamed at her and squeezed her hand. Her father was seated at a small square table where reminiscent of food remained. An older blonde man was sitting across from him.

“This my dear is Gunnarr, and Gunnarr this is my daughter Lady Brynnhild.”

Brynn thought it was a little odd how her father just gave this man Gunnarr’s given name and no surname. She curtsied however, and smiled at the man. He looked like a mercenary with a long dark brown tunic with chain mail. She had never seen chain mail worn at the dinner table. The hairs on the back of her neck began to stand up and she realized someone was standing behind her. She whipped around and saw a man emerge from the shadows by the fireplace. He was tall, she only came to his shoulders. This must have been the man Fritha was talking about. He did look young, have black hair, and deep blue eyes. The stubble on his face made him look very fierce, then she thought wildly no the chain mail, sword at his side and the dagger she saw sticking out of his right boot made him look fierce. Fritha was right when she called him handsome, but he was handsome in a dangerous conquer and ravish sort of way.

“Brynn this is Lord Rand..”

The man cut her father off. He stepped forward and grasped her hand. “Please my lord Avindor let me.” He kissed her hand. “Lord Rand Wulfric at your service.”

Brynn didn’t like the strength she felt from him and how it made her feel weak so she snatched her hand away. He seemed to smirk at her as if he could tell she was afraid of him. Brynn did not like these two men and wanted them away from her father.

“Father, could I please speak to you, alone for a few moments?”

Her father waved her requests away. “Sit please Brynn, we were just finishing up our meal.”

Rather than leave her frail father alone with these two murderous looking men, Brynn sat. She was going to find out all she could about these men so she could protect her father.

“Where are you traveling from?” she directed the question at both men.

“We are travelers of the world my lady.” The blonde giant answered.

Brynn knew right then and there they were hiding something. She put on a bright fake smile.

“Really, how intriguing.” She turned toward the man Fritha had declared was handsome. “And you my lord, where do you call home?”

He leaned back in his chair and gave her a slow lazy smile. “Why lands at Wulfric castle of course.”

Brynn cold barely hold in a very unlady like snort at this man declaring he had a castle. “And these lands would be located where?”

“Brynn! These men are weary from travel and do not need to be questioned like they are on trial.”

“Forgive me father.” Brynn looked up at Lord Wulfric through her eyelashes however, and narrowed her eyes at him. He just kept that infernal half smile on his face. The man Gunnarr just kept eating as if they weren’t even in the room. She stood up suddenly. “Excuse me but I feel very tired, father if I could be excused?”

He sighed, seemed to think it over and finally nodded. “Tomorrow I will send Fritha to fetch you to break your fast.”

Brynn stood gave him a kiss, then curtsied to both her guests. “Gunnarr, my lord.” Then left.

When she closed the door she realized she had been clenching her jaw so hard it hurt now. She worried for her father, those men were dangerous. She posted two sentries to guard the door and made sure they knew that if they heard the slightest sounds of distress they were to enter right away. Tomorrow if the two men were still around she would demand her father tell her what they were doing here.

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Rand looked over at Gunnarr who was smiling at Lord Avindor. “She seems very protective of you my lord. When she saw me she looked ready to call for castle guards, and then one look at Rand I think she was ready to lift a chair up and fight us off!”

Lord Avindor seemed to smile to himself. “Aye, my daughter can seem a bit headstrong at times.”

Rand was staring at Brynn’s father, he, Gunnarr, and Ormarr had visited here a few times over the years, secretly and Lord Avindor had never found if necessary to introduce his daughter to them before.

Lord Avindor sighed. “Aye, Rand I know you are wondering why I did this tonight.”

Rand just sat there calmly waiting for the older man to explain himself.

“I’m dying.”

Gunnarr started to interrupt but Lord Avindor silenced him.

“Nay, dammit! It’s true, I feel it coming. I know now that I am not going to live long enough to personally give Sigurd Falkoneg what he deserves.”

Rand felt himself tense just by hearing that name but his body gave nothing away except for the hardness that came into his eyes. “My lord, Sigurd Falkoneg is my responsibility and I promise you I will deliver to him what he deserves.”

Gunnarr leaned forward. “You gave us shelter when we needed it most and through out the years have supplied us generously with monies and soldiers to aid in our cause. You have done your part.”

“My son Besnik has aligned himself strongly with Sigurd. When he takes over this will no longer be a place of refuge for you and your men.”

Rand raised his mug. “Then let us drink to tonight.”

Lord Avindor raised his mug also. Rand started to bring the mug to his lips when Lord Avindor lowered his without taking a sip and spoke a quiet but firm “Wait.”

Gunnarr glanced over at Rand who was already pulling his dagger from his boot. But Lord Avindor didn’t seem to notice the sudden tension in the room just yet.

“The captain of the guard, Cressing, I’m sure you remember the name as he has also helped me aid you, will be leaving his post after my death.”

Rand still sat perfectly still waiting for an attack at any moment, but he noticed Gunnarr relaxing.

“To be quite honest he refuses to serve my son.” Lord Avindor looked off into the fireplace. “I can’t blame him, I fear for all I have built in Besnik’s hands. I just don’t know where I went wrong!” He seemed lost in his own thoughts for a moment.

Gunnarr gently clasped him on the shoulder. “My lord, men make themselves.” he said quietly.

Lord Avindor stared at Gunnarr a few moments then turned to gaze at Rand. “Aye, aye they do.”

Rand slid his dagger back into his boot.

“Cressing has asked to join with you Rand and with him comes fifty men, all loyal I assure you.”

“What will your son Besnik think when his castle guard and fifty men disappear?” Rand asked.

“Besnik has his own men, he will be angry but when Cressing joins you, I am sure he won’t be able to find him and then there won’t be much he can do.”

Rand inclined his head to Lord Avindor. “I thank you deeply for this last gift then.”

Lord Avindor seemed to take a deep breathe and then said “I would ask for only one boon for all I have given you.”

Rand smiled at him. “A castle guard, fifty men, and all your help over the years I am sure I can comply.”

“A betrothal.”

Rand stared at him questionably.

“I confess to being to lenient with my daughter. She is twenty years old and unmarried.”

Rand and Gunnarr noticed his hand shook as he reached for his mug and took a sip. “Besnik has tried for the last four years to get me to agree to a match between Brynn and Sigurd’s captain of the guard Holger. Brynn to say the least is not in favor of such a situation, neither am I. Besnik sees her as a nice sacrifice to solidify his relationship with Sigurd. When I die, she will have no one to save her from Besnik and Holger.”

Rand gazed at the older man thoughtfully. “So marry her off now to someone.”

Lord Avindor shook his head. “I love her to much to force an unwanted match upon her.” He looked up at Rand. “You, Gunnarr, and Ormarr are the only people I trust completely. You could protect her.”

If Rand was a man who laughed he would have then. “I do sincerely hope my lord, that you are not thinking of asking me to marry her.” he said quietly.

“In a sense.” Lord Avindor answered just as quietly.

“Nay.” Rand answered back firmly.

“Just please listen to me first.” Lord Avindor looked at Rand pleadingly. Not seeing anything but icy blue eyes, he turned his gaze to Gunnarr who had not said a word during the whole discussion. A few moments passed and Gunnarr gave him a small but curt nod to go on. “I ask for a betrothal, you would not be married but it would offer her protection, until she found someone else.”

The hard blue eyes showed no flicker of emotion. “Nay, besides you know what kind of danger she would be in if it was found out that she was betrothed to me?”

Gunnarr spoke quietly. “Sigurd would have her thrown in the dungeons and tortured for information.”

Relieved that Rand hadn’t walked out yet, Lord Avindor went on earnestly. “The betrothal contract would be made on two separate parchments. Father Lesak would make public one copy that read after my death Brynn would be betrothed to a private male party who would step forward to claim her after my burial. It would state that this other male party and I had a copy with the necessary legalities and signatures. My copy of course would not need to be made and without it no one would be able to find out Brynn’s betroths name. However, knowing Brynn’s betrothed had a copy Besnik could not just ignore Father Lesak fearing the wrath of the betroth.”

Rand leaned forward in his chair. “My lord, I will take your daughter to Wulfric castle for safety, she will have my protection there. I promise you, but not my name on a betrothal contract.”

Lord Avindor leaned forward also. “Don’t you see that won’t work! Besnik would still be her legal guardian and could betroth her to Holger. There would be nothing then anyone could do.”

Rand was getting angrier, he didn’t want to be arguing over some stupid girl when far more important concerns needed to be dealt with. He stood up impatient with Lord Avindor. “It will not happen.”

It took a couple of tries, but Lord Avindor finally stood up. Rand could see a glimpse of the warrior he used to be and remembered how he had held him as a little boy on that dark night when Gunnarr and Ormarr had informed him of Rand’s father’s death. Rand cursed to himself, he didn’t want to feel guilt or some since of duty to this man.

“All I ask is that you give protection to my daughter as I gave protection to your father’s son.”

Rand felt himself tense at that. He sensed Gunnarr look up at him and he wished Ormarr was here instead. Ormarr would have ended this conversation long ago.

“If anyone found out she was betrothed to me, she would be in grave danger.” He met Lord Avindor’s gaze directly. “And I will not jeopardize myself or my men to save or help her if it becomes known.” He would never compromise his goal for anyone.

Lord Avindor collapsed in his chair. I will accept that. It is only a betrothal contract, you will not be married unless..”

Rand cut him off. “Not a concern.”

“Also, I want to tell my daughter exactly who you are.”

“That will not happen my lord.” Rand snapped.

Gunnarr spoke again. “My lord, you can not mean,”

Lord Avindor brought his palms down on the table. “I will not have my daughter be in danger and not even be aware of it!”

“If your daughter ever thinks to betray me or my men, or endangers us in anyway, trust that I will deal with her very harshly.” Rand ground out through clenched teeth.

“If I thought there was any chance she would, I never would have asked for the betrothal.” Lord Avindor stated quietly.

“Send for Father Lesak.” Lord Avindor was branded by the cold dark blue eyes of Lord Rands’ again. “Cressing will keep us and you informed from this moment forward.”

The older man nodded. Lord Rand was telling him he no longer required his help and felt he had fulfilled any debt to him. Avindor wished he could say more to this young man but he knew the hard man would not welcome it. He knew in his heart he was doing the right thing, if nothing else Brynn would be safe, he trusted Rand’s word on that. He looked over at Gunnarr who had said very little, but Gunnarr was staring into the fire with a slight frown on his face. Avindor gave a weary sigh, for better or worse he had just betrothed his daughter to Lord Randwulf Brandr Hylgaard.

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Brynn had spent a sleepless night, fraught with visions of men in chain mail killing her father and seizing a hold of the manor killing everyone in it. She was dressed when Fritha came in.

“Morning Fritha.”

Fritha gave her a hollow “Morning” back.

Brynn tilted her head to the side. “Fritha?” she asked questioningly. Her adoptive mother didn’t even meet her eyes.

“Your father is awaiting you in his chambers.” Fritha answered her tonelessly.

Brynn knew something was terribly wrong and rushed out of the room.

Fritha stared out the window, not really seeing anything. Lord Avindor had informed her of his plan to protect Brynn. Fritha had stared at the man who was supposedly the long lost son of Lord Brandr of Caldbergh, the man Brynn was now betrothed to. She had called him handsome once, now she looked deeper and saw eyes that were to old and had seen too much. Lord Avindor and her had protected Brynn for the most part from the harshness of the world, Brynn could be naïve. Fritha had a horrible feeling that this man could really hurt Brynn. He had betrayed absolutely no feelings during the whole conversation, except for a flicker of emotion in those dark blue eyes of his that Fritha thought now was to fleeting to be real. Tears glistened in her eyes. “Brynn!” she sobbed. “Oh God, Brynn!”.

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Brynn flung her father’s chamber door open. “Father!” she cried out. She noticed two things immediately. First, her father looked pale but perfectly fine sitting at the square table just like he had last night, and second the men she was sure were mercenaries were still here and in fact both of them had their swords drawn as if they had expected an army to burst through the door instead of a single woman. When they both identified her they sheathed their swords. The older blonde man called Gunnarr sat slowly back down, while the dark haired Lord Rand wandered over to the fireplace. He rested his arm on the mantle leaning slightly and gave her what she thought was an insolent smile. She tried to compose herself and walked over to her father. Enough was enough, she had to get him away from these sword wielding mad men.

“Father, please I wish to speak to you privately.”

“Brynn please sit down.”

She did not like the tone of his voice. “I, I prefer to stand.” she said shakily.

The man by the fireplace narrowed his eyes at her. He was going to have to lock her in her chambers at Wulfric castle. Then he felt himself glare. He had agreed to let her stay at her home until Lord Avindor passed away, even after she learned his true identity. He did not know her and he did not trust her, she had almost had her throat slit after the idiotic way she had burst into her father’s chamber. He decided to keep Gunnarr watching her for a couple of weeks until he was sure she could be trusted.

“Brynn I must have your word that what you hear here today does not leave this room and you will tell no one.”

Brynn looked into her father’s gravely serious eyes. “Father, I would never betray your trust.” She turned around when she felt eyes boring into the back of her head. The dark haired man was staring at her as if he didn’t believe her word meant anything. Brynn turned back around and found the man Gunnarr staring at her also, but he at least looked a little thoughtful to go along with his mistrustful look.

“Very few people know about what I am about to tell you and only Cressing, Fritha, and the men in this room know about the most important part to you.” Her father took a deep breath, while she gripped the back of the chair in front of her.

“You were not born yet but I know you have heard the bards tell the story of Lord Brandr of Caldbergh and how Sigurd Falkoneg betrayed him.”

She reached over and squeezed his hand. “Aye, I know you were close to Lord Brandr and his family.” Brynn knew the disgust he felt when his own son supported Sigurd so fully.

“You also know of the rumor that Lord Brandr’s son survived.”

Brynn nodded her head.

“It is true, the son did survive.”

Brynn wanted to cry for her father. So that was why these men were here, her father had hired these two men to search for the long lost son. Gently as she squeezed his hand she spoke to her father. “Father, that rumor was started by the nobles who opposed Sigurd, they wanted to oust him. He doesn’t have the ring and by keeping the rumor alive that Brandr’s son is still alive the opposing nobles can keep the opposition going.” Brynn glared at the man across from her at the table then turned around to show her disgust to the lowly man who would take an old man’s money for such a waste.

Rand correctly read her eyes as she glared at him. For the first time he noticed they were a deep green and full of disgust for him. She thought he was trying to dupe her father for money. He gave her a smirk to infuriate her more. She didn’t believe in his existence huh? Well that was about to change.

The churl had the audacity to smirk at her! Brynn was going to have Cressing throw these men in the dungeons. Her father tugged her hand to get her attention.

“Brynn he survived. That night of Sigurd’s betrayal a little boy and two men sought shelter here. I secured them safe passage from here in Eyvindor to across the channel.”

Brynn stared at her father. “Lord Randwulf Hylgaard is alive?”

“Aye.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” Brynn couldn’t help but wonder.

She felt her father grip her hand harder. “Because, because you are, betrothed to him.”

Brynn wrenched her hand from her father’s grasp.