Rain poured down on and around her. Her senses were filled with the familiar scents and tastes of leather, metal and nature. The fresh, chilled bite of the dawn air caressed her bare arms and the wind tugged roughly at her armor and hair.

Rory gathered the wet strands of thick blond hair together and pulled them back into a tight tail, binding it with a leather strip. She glanced one last time at the hut behind her and closed her eyes for a brief moment to center her thoughts. It was a familiar act and she felt her throat close up as tears welled in her eyes. There was one notable exception.

There were no anxious dark eyes watching from the front door of the hut. There were no trembling arms rushing to embrace her one last time before she went off to defend their home and that of their neighbors’. No full lips claiming hers as a reminder of what she had to come home to, of who would soothe the bloodlust upon her return.

We, the generals... Rory gritted her teeth and growled softly. She heard the attack alarm bell sound. A wicked smile spread across her face and she watched for a moment as fellow warriors exited the huts surrounding hers. She schooled her features to show an emotionless mask to those around her as most of the warriors were sent off by family and spouses.

“Rory, Rory, my love. Come back to me.” The beloved voice filled her thoughts with a familiar plea.

“Always,” She would reply each time with a final kiss before striding off.

“You’d better,” Hannah would call out playfully, much to the amusement of their neighbors. “Or I’ll just have to come after you,” She would finish with a hint of steel resolve in her voice. It always gained chuckles and taunts from the other warriors, but they had no clue of how much truth existed in that single statement.

Well, my love. I’m comin’ after you, it looks like. Rory’s hands clenched into fists and she pushed forward toward the battlefront further from the village.

The other warriors followed and silence surrounded them as they strode through the center of the village. Rory could feel furtive eyes on them as they walked past other huts and were joined by more and more warriors. The only sounds to be heard were the clanking of metal armor and the damp crunch of rain-soaked pebbles and rocks beneath their booted feet.

An edgy energy was rising around her and Rory felt the shift as worries turned to anticipation. The fine hair on the back of her neck and along her arms rose as her blood sang in response. Her heart rate picked up and her breathing changed as her senses came alive. They reached the path that led out of the village and the faint sounds of fighting reached their ears.

Rory tensed as she felt someone approach and she forced herself to relax when she saw the General exiting his hut just off of the path to the left. He held up a hand to halt them and called out, “We need to use the strategy we discussed yesterday or we’ll exhaust our resources far too quickly. Is everyone clear on this?” He glanced around and nodded in satisfaction when he received positive responses.

General Mikhail smiled grimly and drew his sword as he took his place at the front of their procession. He threw his head back and let out a wild yell which was quickly followed by a roaring echo from his warriors. He looked over his shoulder and exchanged a knowing look with Rory and she nodded in acknowledgement. With that, they started forward.

General Mikhail called them to a halt once again when they reached the two stone walls that lined either side of their village gates. The white stone sparkled wetly, the slick surface making it impossible to climb. The log gates they’d erected between the stone walls were thick, keeping their enemies out. Halfway down one of the stone walls, the hidden mouth of a cave allowed safe passage in and out of the village during times of war if you knew where to look for it.

General Mikhail watched as wet leather and armor clad figures spread out and split off to form their assigned contingents. He waited for them to settle down and then ordered, “Archers, to the battlements. I want a couple of lookouts to go up as well and report back every candle mark.” He waited for the first line to start up the rope ladder leading to the top of the stone walls. He nodded in satisfaction and gestured to a warrior waiting nearby.

 “Lieutenant, I want you to start sending them out in turns as discussed.”

“Aye, Gen’ral. I’ll do that,” Berran said and saluted him sharply before he turned to bark out commands to a nearby group.

Rory watched with disinterest as two contingents slipped off into the forest. She sighed and leaned back against the stone wall. By Thor, I hate waiting.

She listened absently to the murmured conversations of some of the younger warriors surrounding her. She rolled her eyes at some of the things she heard and closed them in sympathy at others. Quite a few of the other warriors had lost loved ones in this senseless war as well.

And how long did it take for me to realize that it was just that? Just senseless violence and a waste of life, Rory questioned silently -- mournfully. An image of her teacher’s face entered her thoughts and she choked back a soft cry. Oh, sweetheart. She clenched her jaw shut and shook her head. Don’t go there or you won’t have the strength to go through with this.

She forced her attention back to her surroundings. She carefully studied the younger warriors. A few hadn’t even wanted to become warriors until the bone deep need for vengeance gave them a new understanding of bloodlust. And that... that, Rory could fully understand. For most of them, this was to be their first battle since they’d been too young during the last war and they were now taking the place of older warriors lost in recent skirmishes.

One conversation caught Rory’s attention and she closed her eyes sadly.

“She’s not quite what I expected her to be before a battle after all the stories the older guys told us last night,” A tall dark haired warrior spoke softly to his companion.

The young blond haired boy nodded and said, “I know. She’s so damned detached. Like she doesn’t even care that people are gonna die.”

The older warrior whispered sharply, “It’s not that, you moron!” He popped his friend on the back of his head and asked, “You remember the lady that used to work in the bakery every once in a while?”

His companion nodded as he rubbed the back of his head and said softly, “Yeah, I remember her. Real pretty woman named Hannah. She used to give the kids free cookies.”

The dark haired boy nodded as he grinned slightly in remembrance and it faded as he said, “Hannah was Rorick’s mate. She was killed during one of the skirmishes in the outlying region when one of the units went out on a mission.”

The younger boy sighed and said, “That’s sad. Hannah was real nice.”

Oh, Hannah. You’ve won over another one, sweetheart, Rory thought sadly. I wish you were here to tease about it.

A hand on her shoulder startled her and she glanced up sharply. She noticed the concern in General Mikhail’s gaze and she forced a faint smile to reassure him. She nodded and asked, “Is it time?”

General Mikhail nodded and said, “I wish you’d reconsider, Rorick.”

Rory shook her head and said, “I have to do this, Mikhail. She was your daughter. Surely you understand.”

Mikhail gave her a meaningful look and said, “What I understand is that she would have my head for agreeing with this.”

Rory glared at him and stalked off without comment. He doesn’t understand, Her heart cried out. They took her away, took away the only person who made me feel— who made me crave something other than power and destruction.

Rory ducked beneath the low overhang of the cave’s entrance. She entered the torch lit space and shivered at the natural chill that permeated the leather pants and the thick leather tunic she wore. She followed the length of the tunnel and paused when she came to the two tunnels that led outward. She placed her hand on the stone wall and took a deep breath.

This is it. This is what I’ve been waiting for. I can rid the earth of the bastards that took my love, my life, away. Her skin tingled with excitement and she smiled. And maybe they’ll do me the favor of sending me to my love.

Her smile vanished and she closed her eyes as a wave of grief washed over her. Oh, Freya. What am I doing? A distant memory drifted through her mind and she swallowed hard as guilt swamped her.

They’d had a close call. A traveling warrior visiting the village tavern had mistaken Hannah for free game and hadn’t wanted to take no for an answer. Rory could still recall the sensation of her hand wrapping tightly around his throat and the strong desire to have his blood stain her flesh. The beast inside had howled mournfully when Hannah succeeded in pulling her back into herself.

“Promise me,” Hannah had choked out when she was cradled in her naked lover’s arms in bed later that night. “Promise me that you won’t go back to being that cold blooded killer.”

Rory had shook her head and said softly, “I can’t do that, sweet Hannah. If someone were to hurt you like that bastard would have, I’d go insane with rage.”

“No,” Hannah had groaned and grasped her hands. She’d lifted their joined hands and said fiercely, “You won’t. You’re not the same woman you were back then.”

Rory had freed one hand and caressed Hannah’s cheek. She’d smiled sadly and asked, “What would you have me do, sweet Hannah? If I didn’t go back to being a warrior, then what would you have me do?”

Hannah had just gave her a sweet smile full of innocence and said, “These hands can heal as well as kill, my Viking.”

Rory had sighed and wiped away a tear from Hannah’s cheek. She’d kissed her softly and said, “I promise you, sweet Hannah, that I’ll not dishonor your memory if anything happens to you.”

Rory could still feel the moist pressure of Hannah’s lips caressing the back of her hand in reply. Oh, sweet Hannah. I know you wouldn’t approve. But this is my way. I need you.

Rory heard voices echoing from one of the tunnels and her head jerked up. She peered into the dimly lit corridor and could make out the faint outline of two warriors on the ground just up ahead. One was propped against the wall and the other was kneeling by his side. She strained to hear their words and found herself moving forward without thought when she heard the urgency in the warrior’s tone.

“Hold on, Lendall. I’ll go get help. You’ll be fine,” A young voice choked out.

Rory recognized the voice as one of the young men she’d overheard talking about Hannah. She hurried forward and dropped to her knees next to Lendall. She ignored the other young man’s startled expression and asked sharply, “Where are you hurt?”

The young blond moved his hand from his side. Blood pumped sluggishly from a long, deep gash that ran the length of Lendall’s ribcage. Rory realized that by the time she ran to get the healer, Lendall could bleed to death. She swallowed hard and her nostrils flared as she took a deep breath. The copper tang of blood filled her senses and she felt the answering surge of energy.

There’s a battle going on. Do you really want to deal with this? It could be over before you even finish with him.

She winced at the thought of not even getting to fight. She shook her head. He needs me.

You’re a killer, not a healer.

She grimaced and shook her head again. But I know how. And besides, this is what Hannah would want. It was only a matter of seconds before her decision was made.

She looked over Lendall and met the older boy’s wide, fearful blue eyes as she said low and emotionlessly, “Run and get the healer.”

He hesitated and she reached over to cuff him upside the head as she growled, “Now!”

The dark haired boy glanced at Lendall and clasped his shoulder briefly before he jumped to his feet and ran back the way Rory had came. Rory shook her head and retrieved the medicinal supplies she kept in one of the pouches on her belt. She cut Lendall’s shirt away with her dagger and cleaned the wound with water from her water-skin. She mixed a handful of herbs and water together to make a thin paste to go over the wound before and after she’d stitched it up.

The paste was applied as gently as possible and she heard the boy whimper and knew he was crying. She kept her head bowed to her task to allow him his dignity. As she threaded the needle, she glanced up to see glazed, tearful green eyes gazing back at her.

Rory cleared her throat and said softly, “You’ll be okay, kid. This may hurt a bit, though.”

Lendall nodded weakly and said hoarsely, “Okay.”

With the first pass of the needle through his skin, Lendall passed out. Rory worked silently and efficiently. When the wound was closed, she tied the thread off and cut the needle away from it with the tip of her dagger. She covered the wound with the last of the herbal paste and then she settled back against the stone wall to wait for the healer. The faint sounds of the battle outside occasionally drifted to her on the wind and she could hear people going through the other tunnels as well.

Rory felt impatient as opportunities to join in on the ongoing battle slipped by. She heard the healer and the other boy’s approach before she saw them. Running footsteps caught her attention and moments later, the dark haired warrior came through the tunnel followed by and older man. She moved out of the way and watched as the healer knelt to examine the wound.

When he looked up at her with stunned respect, Rory smiled faintly at the healer and said, “I’ll help you carry him back to the hospice.”

He nodded and said, “All right, then.”

Rory grasped Lendall beneath his arms as the healer got a firm hold beneath his thighs. They lifted him cautiously, ready to halt at a moment’s notice. Other than soft groans and whimpers, Lendall was silent during the slow trek back to the village and his dark haired companion stayed close by. They reached the hospice and Rory was surprised at the amount of injured inside.

The healer saw the look on her face as they were lowering Lendall onto a cot and explained, “I’m not able to work as fast as I need to ‘cause of the swelling in my joints and I don’t have an assistant. My last one went to Athens after his joining.”

Rory, Rory, my love... Rory smiled faintly at the echo in her thoughts. All right, sweet Hannah, I get the message.

Rory sighed and looked at the healer. She raised an eyebrow and asked, “Would you like some help?”

The healer gave her a surprised look and asked, “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be out on the battlefield?”

Rory snorted softly and said, “I made a promise to someone.”

The healer nodded and gave her a curious look as he held out an arm, “I’m Arvin.”

Rory clasped his arm just below his elbow and nodded as she said, “Rorick.”

Arvin stood and gestured toward a cot that held an injured warrior as he said, “Well, Rorick, let’s get started.” He walked away without waiting for a reply.

Pushy old man, Rory sighed silently and stood up to follow. A faint sound caught her attention and she hesitated. After a moment, she shook her head and continued. She could’ve sworn that she’d heard gentle laughter.

“Rory, Rory, my love. You came back to me,” Hannah would murmur through her giggles as she peppered Rory’s face with playful kisses.

“Always,” Rory would growl softly and then she’d capture Hannah’s lips in a rough, passionate kiss as she guided them back toward the bedroom on instinct.