Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 5

him to his feet and leading him away from his father and brother. They crossed the grass to a walkway of roughly cut wooden planking, laid out to form a circle around the central area and moved along it to an area where there were several single storey wooden buildings of various sizes. Their roofs covered in grass growing turf, they had been built close together in a row, like a primitive street.
    "My home," Harald said as he ushered Alex through an open doorway into one of the smaller buildings.
    They passed through the main room, where a heavy wooden table with simple benches running down each side was set centrally. In a small off-shoot area a series of fire pits were being tended to by a couple of middle aged women as they prepared food; the air was thick with greasy smoke from roasting meat.
    "This way." Harald pushed Alex gently through the doorway at the far end of the main room into a much smaller room. This room was lit with a couple of oil lamps, hung from metal brackets attached to the walls. The only natural light was from a small opening just below the eves on the far side of the room.
    Lined up against one wall were two large ornately carved wooden crates. The lid of one was open and inside Alex could see what appeared to be clothing. On the closed lid of the other crate sat several items, amongst them Alex could recognise only a couple of combs, and a small pile of what looked like some sort of jewellery made of metal and coloured glass beads. Balanced on the corner of the crate sat a short, wickedly sharp looking knife, the metal blade set in a handle of polished bone. On the other side of the room a low bed was covered in a heavy woollen blanket, the coloured weave looking like a very basic tartan.
    Standing in the middle of the room Alex watched cautiously as Harald moved over towards the crates. Rummaging through the open crate he pulled out a plain woollen tunic which he tossed onto the bed, before searching through the items on the top of the closed crate. As he turned back towards Alex he held the knife in his right hand.
    Air rushed into Alex's lungs as he inhaled sharply. He quickly stepped backwards as Harald moved towards him, stopping only when his shoulders hit the wall.
    "It's all right, I'm not going to hurt you," Harald said softly. "Stand still, I just want to cut the bindings on your wrists."
    Shaking slightly Alex did as requested, holding his tied hands up for Harald to slide the blade between his wrists. With a sharp jerking motion the knife sliced upwards and the bindings fell away.
    "Thank you." Alex rubbed at the red marks that circled his wrists before dropping his hands to his sides. Carefully he brushed one side of his kilt, reassuring himself that no one had found the hidden pocket sewn inside, which held the essential items he'd taken for a night out clubbing.
    Harald returned the knife to the crate and turned back towards Alex. In his hand he held a simple strip of leather about a centimetre in width.
    "I need to put this on you." Harald held it out towards Alex who looked at it first in confusion and then with dawning comprehension. His expression changed to one of disbelief.
    "A collar? Fuck no! Look, I've no clue as to what the hell is going on here but I am no one's slave." Alex's voice rose as he spoke. "You may have me held here against my wishes, but as soon as I can get out I'm going straight to the police and having you all arrested and charged with kidnapping, false imprisonment, assault and any other charge I can think of."
    Dipping his hand into the gap in his kilt he pulled out his I-phone and unlocked the screen before hitting the nine key quickly three times in succession. There was no ring tone, in fact no tone at all. He looked at the screen in disbelief; it showed charge, but no display, not just a bad patch with no signal, the phone was useless.
    "Shit," he swore again. Blinded by frustration and anger he reacted without thinking. Throwing the phone at the wall with enough force to shatter the screen.
    For a couple of minutes Harald said nothing, just looked on impassively whilst still holding out the collar. Then, tilting his head to one side he lowered his hands and asked softly, "What's your name?"
    "Alex, Alexander McGill. I, well, most people call me Alex," he said wearily.
    "Alex," Harald repeated. "Shall we start over? I'm Harald."
    "Where am I?"
    "Siguardsvik. This is my father's farmstead. After his last wife died he decided that he didn't want