The Mercantile Reaver - 1

So...I had some serious writers block this week. Here is the beginning of a story about Vikings instead of the usual continuation of Choose Your Own Misadventure.

A loud crash alerted Aryk Harlgrimmson to the fact that his front door had been kicked in. Drunken Ulf, nearly as wide as he was tall, filled the now empty doorframe as he bellowed, “By the blood of my father, I’ll know what makes that scrawny bitch of yours so damn special before the sun rises!”

Aryk muttered a curse under his breath. Any Reaver could challenge another man for one of his women, but the fight had to be with fists alone and never to the death – Reavers knew no woman was worth dying for. Unfortunately for Aryk, as the youngest Captain in living memory, he was often targeted by the older men of the clan who thought to put him in his place by taking the only woman he had claimed for his own. Doubly unfortunate was the fact that while Aryk was a demon with a spear, deadly with his knives, and considered quite skilled with an axe, he was tall and lean, his battle prowess derived from his skill and speed rather than brute strength. That put him at a definite disadvantage in these late night brawls over Maxine.

Vaulting over his gold inlaid dinner table, Aryk crashed boney elbows first into Ulf’s fat stomach. Ulf grunted and doubled over, grabbing Aryk by the collar as he did, and hurling him across the room to slam into a cabinet full of silver spoons. The hand carved cabinet shattered and silver and splinters rained down on Aryk.

Aryk jumped to his feet and used his superior reach to punch Ulf in the nose three times in rapid succession. Ulf bellowed with rage and dove at Aryk. He managed to dodge Ulf’s tackle and Aryk took the opportunity Ulf presented lying prone on his floor to kick him in the ear.

Ulf rumbled to his feet and threw himself at Aryk anew. Aryk dodged Ulf’s meaty paws as he threw punches, but his kitchen was not a large room and soon enough he was cornered. Ulf finally landed a punch that lifted Aryk off his feet and sent him flying into a marble statue of some foreign god. The statue broke just as surely as Aryk’s nose. Aryk threw punches back at Ulf, but the seasoned Reaver was so fat, muscular, and drunk that he hardly felt them. Meanwhile, Ulf’s giant fists found Aryk’s ribs, shoulders, and stomach. Aryk spit out some blood and did his best to strategize his next move.

A dull thunk sounded behind Ulf and the big Reaver’s eyes glazed over. He cascaded sideways just like a spring avalanche to reveal Maxine standing behind him with her favorite iron frying pan in both hands. She held it menacingly, ready to wallop Ulf again if he rose.

Aryk frowned. “You aren’t allowed to do that.”

Maxine shrugged. “I’d have just killed him and come back to you for protection when you lost. This way your clan doesn’t lose one of its precious Reavers over a woman.” Her voice practically oozed the dry wit she favored.

“A fair point,” Aryk admitted. He grabbed Ulf’s wrists while Maxine took his ankles and they dragged him out into the snow. Then Aryk propped the door in place before going to get his tools to fix it. Luckily, Ulf had kicked it in so the hinges gave way rather than shattering the door.

“Can I get you a drink? You must be parched after the beating Ulf gave you?” Maxine reached for the fancy pillaged bottle that had been refilled with strong Reaver whiskey.

Aryk chuckled as he replaced the hinges to his front door. “I can count the phases of the moon as well as you, my dear. Gone are the days when you need to get me hopelessly drunk to keep me from getting a son in your belly.”

Maxine leveled a considering look at him. “How long have you had that little trick figured out?”

Laughing, Aryk couldn’t help but shake his head. “Your one weakness, my dear, is your prejudice against Reavers. Not all of us are as stupid as you think.”

“Clearly,” Maxine muttered sourly.

“Besides, I enjoyed you plying me with liquor and doing everything else in your power to distract me from taking you into our bed before I passed out.” Aryk grinned at the fuzzy memories of Maxine dancing on the kitchen table as she removed her clothing slowly but surely. She was far too thin for a Reaver woman, but she was a foreigner taken during a raid and her pretty face more than made up for her scrawny hips and breasts.

Maxine flicked one of Aryk’s ears while he worked. “Then why show your hand and let me know that you know about my distractions?”

Aryk reflected, not for the first time, how lucky Maxine was that he had been to one to claim her on the day his father’s ship and raided her town. Any other Reaver would have beaten her to a bloody pulp – if not killed her – for so insolently inflicting pain on him. Of course, he knew her true value, and was willing to tolerate such impertinence. “I have an important meeting with the Clan Chief in the morning and I need my mind sharp. Father will be there and he always knows when you’ve gotten me drunk the night before.”

Aryk could hear Maxine’s disapproving frown in her voice without turning around to see it on her angular face. “You outrank your father now, there’s no need to grovel to him any longer.”

“Harlgrimm is the Chief’s right hand man, even if he were not my father it would be unwise to make an enemy of him,” Aryk replied.

“He already resents you,” Maxine persisted. “He disapproves of our methods, even if he doesn’t understand half of them. He believes that any deviation from the old ways is wrong.”

Aryk smiled. No other woman belonging to a Reaver could get away with talking about a man’s raiding strategy as our methods. Maxine was different though. She was the key to Aryk’s phenomenal success. “He understands success, though. In truth, I think all he wants is me to take another woman and get a son out of her. It’s you he hates.”

Maxine popped all ten of her knuckles in quick succession, ending with both her thumbs at once. It was something she did when she was especially upset with something Aryk said. “I have made my feelings clear on bringing another woman into this house.”

Aryk finished installing the new hinges. He stood, wiped his hands off on his shirt, and wrapped his long arms around Maxine’s narrow waist. “And do you see another woman here?”

Maxine grudgingly returned the embrace. “I suppose not.”

“For a woman who hates Reavers, you are awfully possessive of yours.” Aryk kissed her ear.

“I’m complex. You know this.” She punched him in the ribs and tried to shove him away, but he was too strong for her.

“Relax! I’m not going to get you pregnant tonight. But I’m a Captain and one day I will need to have a son. That means you eventually have to give me one or I claim another woman.” Aryk moved his kisses down to her pale neck.

“Stop that!” Maxine thrust her boney knee at his groin and Aryk twisted away.

“Very well.” He laughed. “We can play that board game you love so much until it’s time to go to bed.”

“Don’t say board game like that. Vakra is a game of skill, patience, and cunning. It helps develop your primitive barbarian mind to grasp more civilized lines of thought.” Maxine grabbed the Vakra board and began setting it up on the table.