Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 5

others. "He's a Pict, the enemy, we can't let him go. We kill him." There was an air of finality as though he had passed sentence.
    "No!" This voice was closer, between Alex and the original speaker. Alex was sure he'd not heard it before but it seemed, somehow, familiar. "He's unarmed, defenceless; it would be beneath us to kill him."
    'They're talking about me.' The thought hit suddenly, sending a bolt of fear through him.
    In a panic, Alex tried again to sit up, realising as he tried to move that not only were his hands bound in front of him but that his feet were tied at the ankle, just above the top of his boots. Spitting curses he fought against the bonds, thrashing his body around on the hard ground until he managed to swing his legs under him and push himself up onto one hip, his hands curled into fists as they lay useless in his lap.
    "Steady," the voice cautioned from close behind him. "Keep still." The words, though spoken quietly, were an obvious command.
    Turning his head toward the speaker Alex looked up into the strangely familiar face that he'd seen in his memory. Dry mouthed, heart beating loudly in his chest, Alex nodded once and stopped moving.
    "He's a Pict," the first voice repeated angrily. "Unarmed maybe, but that probably means he's a spy."
    "A spy? Wearing traditional battle dress, alone, in the middle of Norselander's territory?" The words were spoken with obvious sarcasm.
    Silently he watched as the two men stared angrily at each other. From their face shapes and expressions Alex thought they must be closely related, brothers maybe? Though unlike the face etched into Alex's memory the other man's light brown hair fell untidily to his shoulders, and dark eyes looked out over a full beard covering his cheeks and chin. Both men were big with muscular arms, which were bare save for rings of twisted metal around their biceps. They wore light chain mail tunics over what appeared to be plain tan knee length kilts. The darker haired man carried an unsheathed short sword in his hand; the metal glinted where the morning sunlight reflected off the blade.
    Trying to move as little as possible, Alex slowly let his eyes scan the area. Around the arguing men stood a ring of people, most of them similarly dressed and armed, though here and there Alex noted the short sword had been replaced by fearsome looking axes. Others standing with them, men and a few women, lacked the armour and weaponry, wearing instead simple brown tunic type tops; many of these unarmed watchers appeared to be wearing a leather collar around their necks.
    "Not a very effective spy in that case. I still say we kill him."
    "No. Look at him; he's not much more than a child. He's hardly any battle markings." The blue eyed man pointed towards Alex's chest, where the year of his birth was proudly emblazoned across it. "A warrior would be covered in the blue paint telling of his battles."
    "What else do you suggest we do with him? Let him go? Let him return to his people? Let him lead them to destroy us?" The voice dripped sarcasm.
    Alex's mind raced, careering from one thought to the next. Where the hell was he? How had he gotten here? Had he been drugged? Kidnapped by a cult of Viking reenactors? Alex fought the urge to laugh hysterically at the last thought, sobering quickly as the argument between the two men picked up once more.
    "We have no choice. You are a fool, you should have killed him where you found him, not brought him back."
    "I won't kill in cold blood."
    "You haven't the balls or the backbone to kill at all." The darker haired man's voice was cold with scorn. "You are not a man at all; I am ashamed to call you my brother."
    'What on earth is going on? Where am I?' The questions repeated themselves in Alex's mind. He could feel his fear and confusion starting to give way to anger, but didn't dare ask the questions out loud; being unarmed and almost naked he really didn't want to risk angering either of the men further.
    "Harald! Gunnar!" A voice thundered through the silence. The circle around the two men broke apart, with all of those that were not bearing arms, and a fair few who were, scrambling quickly away.
    The man approaching was much older, and even more physically imposing. Tall and muscular, his arms bulged as he crossed them in front of his broad chest. He had the same red blonde hair as the young man nearest to Alex, but it was shot through with silver, the same streaks ran through an impressive plaited beard.