The Enchantment Read Online Free PDF

battle-tempered warriors with the Valkyr’s daughter. He grimaced as each fell short of the mark. There was but one man in his hall and village who both bested Aaren Serricksdotter in height and outstripped her in mass of muscle and sinew. One lone man.
    It would be interesting to see them together . . . this fierce-eyed battle-maiden and his woman-hearted son, Jorund. She was a wench fashioned to fire men’s blood . . . to arouse a desire for conquest in even the most placid of male breasts.
    â€œBy the Red Thor’s Hammer!” He came roaring to his feet, suddenly ablaze with determination. “It is time to test this enchantment and see what this battle-maid is made of!” A din of approval raced through the hall, and those men still capable of walking shoved to their feet.
    â€œI’ll soon have her teetering on the tip of my sword!”
    â€œNot if I take her first!”
    â€œI’ll have her on her knees with three cuts of my sword . . . then on her back for a few thrusts of my
spear
!”
    One after another, Borger’s men boasted of their prowess as they scrambled for their blades, each vowing they would be the one to defeat Old Serrick’s daughter. Borger halted in the midst of strapping on his weapon and confronted his half-drunken warriors.
    â€œI alone decide who fights the Sword-stealer’s daughter!” he bellowed, planting his fists on his hips. “Be it known that no man may raise a blade to her without my consent.” The grumbling and complaints were gradually snuffed by his hard-eyed stare and combative pose. Then he called for his son Garth.
    The young warrior bounded forward eagerly, his features glowing with the expectation that he would be given the first chance to fight the Valkyr’s daughter. But when Borger spoke, his face reddened with anger.
    â€œGo for Jorund . . . I would have him present.”
    â€œJorund?” Garth exclaimed. “You send for
him
?”
    There was a ripple of disapproval through the men.
    â€œHe won’t be any use,” came a snarl from the pack.
    â€œThere’s fighting to be done, not flesh-strumming,” came another.
    Borger cast a silencing glare around him, then thundered at Garth:
“Go!”
    The volume spun the young warrior on his heels and set him stalking for the thrall house, where Jorund Borgerson was most likely to be found. Borger flashed a wicked grin as he stepped down into the midst of his men and waved them along with a brawny arm.
    â€œTo the women’s house . . . and a test of a Valkyr’s daughter!”

    G ARTH DUCKED THROUGH the door of the thrall house and stood searching the pallets and sleeping shelves hanging from the walls for a sign of his elder brother’s pale hair and massive frame. Finding none below, he climbed partway up the ladder to the straw-littered loft and spotted him amidst a tangle of female limbs and hair. Garth squinted, muttered a curse under his breath, then began to count. One, two, three . . . Hel’s gate, there were at least four women snuggled, pressed, and draped over various parts of his brother’s half-naked body.
Four women,
when most of the men of late had trouble luring one wench—even a thrall woman—into the furs for a bit of flesh-sport. Garth lunged up the short ladder to give his brother’s leg a prod.
    â€œJorund! Wake up. Father wants you.” He huffed as the women stirred sensuously and nestled even closer to the warmth of their big human brazier. “Jorund!” Garth shouted, propping his foot on Jorund’s thickly muscled thigh and giving it a series of jarring thumps.
    Jorund struggled up through a jumble of female limbs to find his younger brother half standing on him. “Wh-what is it, Garth?” he demanded, bracing on his arms and brushing away the hands that sought to pull him back into the fleece.
    â€œFather’s calling for you,” Garth repeated. “An old