Page 22 of The Barbarian’s Claim (Not-So-Savage Barbarians #4)

Twenty-Two

MATTHEW

I t took another week for us to get back to the clan.

Einar was being overprotective and would only let us travel for a few hours before forcing us to take a break.

We took less breaks while traveling on foot in the forest than we did with his stallion on the journey home.

Even Tyaell seemed annoyed at the end of it.

He started to ignore Einar’s demands to stop, moving at a determined canter to get back to his home.

At that point, the pain had mostly faded, and I felt almost back to normal, so I encouraged Tyaell to keep going, ignoring the irritated grumbling from my bondmate.

When the familiar sight of the clan came into view, I sat up straighter. I wasn’t sure when it had started to feel like home, but I missed it while we were away. Even the fluffier beds weren’t enough to make me want to linger in town. This was my home.

Einar stopped at the crest of a hill overlooking the village. Glancing over my shoulder at him, I frowned at the dark expression on his face.

“W-what is it?”

“I had no time to deal with Orn before we left. They took him away before I could. I do not want him near you.”

Hugging his arm a little closer against my chest, I frowned at the village. “Y-you th-think he’s s-s-still there?”

“If he is, he won’t be for long,” he growled, nudging Tyaell into motion again.

The thought of seeing Orn again made my stomach churn.

If a similar situation happened in the town where I grew up, the attacker would be jailed.

The barbarians had no jail, so I wasn’t sure what they did with people like Orn, who attacked when they weren’t under threat.

I looked for him as we passed the edge of the village and headed for the center, but I couldn’t see him.

I did see Simon, though. He jabbed Finn with his elbow to get his attention and stood, smiling at me as we approached.

“You’re back!”

He spoke the common tongue, but it got the attention of everyone around him. The murmurs picked up, and others came closer to greet us. It was a little overwhelming, and I wasn’t familiar with most of them, but they had smiles on their faces and looked happy to see us.

Tyaell was forced to stop because of the group, so Einar got down, helping me to my feet as well. He hovered at my back, a dark scowl on his face. The only person who ignored it was Simon, who threw his arms around my neck and hugged me tightly.

Hesitantly, I hugged him back. It was a strange feeling, I wasn’t sure anyone had hugged me aside from Einar since my family had died. Eventually, I melted into the embrace, resting my chin on his shoulder. It was kind of nice.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he murmured.

“Y-y-you t-too.”

It was barely a whisper—I didn’t want to be overheard—but being so close to him meant he heard me.

His arms tightened just a little, and when he stepped away, his eyes were misty.

He sucked in a shaky breath, forcing himself to smile brightly.

Finn came next, his hug a little more tentative, but still filled with warmth and love.

I got a few pats on the shoulder and back, and I didn't understand why until Simon’s bondmate stood in front of me.

He dropped to one knee, his head bowed and his tone reverent.

I couldn’t understand him, but Finn translated for me, his eyes filled with tears.

“He says he owes you a life debt. You protected his bondmate at great risk to yourself. He is grateful the gods saw fit to bring you to us.”

Overwhelmed, I looked to Einar for guidance. I didn’t know what to do with all this attention. I’d never been in a situation like this before. People hardly looked at me in my old town.

Putting a hand on my lower back, Einar stepped up beside me, speaking to Simon’s bondmate for me.

I didn’t often hear him use the barbarian language since he always spoke in the common tongue with me, but it was kind of beautiful in his gruff voice.

I wanted to hear more. Whatever he said, Simon’s bondmate seemed to accept it and rose to his feet again, putting his fist against his chest and bowing deep to both of us.

It confused me, but Finn was quick to explain.

“It’s a gesture of respect. You did a great thing, Matthew. We’re all grateful for what you did for Simon.”

“He’s right,” Orthorr said as he stepped up to join us. He stopped beside me, putting a hand on my shoulder, and offered me a smile. “You are a blessing to our clan, little one. We are happy that you have returned.”

Looking around wide-eyed at the group, I struggled to accept what he said.

They were happy to see me. Me. The homeless orphan who was a stain upon my town’s image.

The bondmate without a job, who couldn’t even understand the language.

Who hadn’t been brave enough to speak since arriving here.

That was all irrelevant to them. Here, I was accepted as I was.

Without words, or skill, or anything. Just as me.

“Welcome home, zoragar,” Einar whispered in my ear.

Home. I had truly found my home.

There were murmurs about throwing a celebration for my return.

I was more than a little grateful that Einar shut that down before it could turn into something real.

I appreciated it more than words that the clan wanted me here, but I wasn’t sure I could handle a whole celebration focused on me. It made me dizzy just thinking of it.

After speaking with Orthorr, Einar brought me back to our tent to rest. I wasn’t in any pain, but I didn’t argue.

Being around that many people was overwhelming, and I appreciated the break.

I sat on the bed, watching as Einar removed his weapons and tunic, getting more comfortable after a long journey.

Or, at least, that was what I thought he was doing until he started picking up his weapons and setting them aside like he was deciding on the best one.

“W-what are y-y-you d-doing?” I asked, frowning at him.

“I will face Orn in drokagorn,” he said succinctly. My frown deepened.

“W-what d-does that w-w-word mean?”

Choosing a long sword with a curved blade, he tied it to his belt before facing me again. He cupped my cheeks as he knelt in front of me, his voice calm despite his words.

“A blood duel. We will fight until he takes his last breath.”

Swallowing hard, I searched his face. “C-can h-h-he hurt you?”

“He will try.”

It felt like he was leaving something out, and it didn’t take much to figure it out on my own. It was a fight to the death. If Orn got the upper hand, I’d lose the person who mattered most to me.

“Einar–” I protested, shaking my head.

He cut me off with a gentle kiss against my forehead. “He nearly killed my bondmate, kolrav. He must die for his actions. Do not worry. He is a poor fighter. He will not win.”

He tried getting me to stay in the tent during the fight, but I refused and clung to him until we returned to the village center, where the rest of the clan waited.

Simon had to pull me away, because I didn’t want to let go, but he whispered little reassurances against my ear as Orn was brought to face Einar, and the clan leader explained to everyone what would happen.

Finn took my hand, standing at my other side.

A man who I’d met before while retrieving meals, Patrick, stood at his other side, rubbing Finn’s arm gently.

Finn seemed almost as shaken as I was. It made me want to cover his eyes.

If I could work up the nerve to speak, I’d ask him if he wanted to go back to his tent to wait.

The silence of the clan drew my focus back to Einar and Orn.

Seeing Orn again, with his furious scowl and long sword clutched in his hand, made my side ache, and my grip tightened on Simon’s hand, but it was Einar’s expression that assuaged my fear a little.

He didn’t look worried. He looked calm and confident, his sword at the ready and his eyes locked on Orn.

Orthorr said something to begin the fight, but they didn’t immediately clash together.

They circled each other, each waiting for an opening.

My heart was in my throat, and I was sure I was crushing Simon’s hand, I was gripping it so tightly.

When Orn finally lunged, I jumped in surprise, gasping when metal clashed with metal and he was shoved back again.

Einar wasted no time, slicing down Orn’s arm and disarming him.

Orn had to chase his blade, which left his back open for another attack by Einar.

It went on like this for a while, with Orn getting his weapon back, only for Einar to knock it away again and give him another injury for his mistake.

“He’s toying with him,” Simon murmured.

“W-w-what?” I whispered back, refusing to tear my eyes off Einar for even a second.

“Einar has had half a dozen openings to end this already. He’s toying with Orn, dragging things out.”

Uttin spoke behind us, his voice hard. “For most, it would be considered dishonorable to do such a thing. Einar has always been wild. Orn took his life in his own hands by coming after Einar’s bondmate. No one will force him to make it quick.”

He was right. No one stepped forward to help Orn. Not even his friends. I noticed a few of them, the ones who had sat around the fire with him, and the one who had confronted me at Simon’s bonding ceremony. They had dark expressions on their faces, and none moved to stop what was happening.

“It would bring dishonor to them to get involved,” Uttin explained quietly when he noticed me studying them.

“Besides, tributes are revered in our clan. No one hurts a tribute here. They face death or banishment if they do. Orn will face the consequences of his actions. His life was forfeit the moment he chose to hurt a tribute, even a claimed one. Even if his blade had reached Simon instead, the result would be the same.”

Another clash of metal on metal drew my focus, and I watched as Einar twisted his blade, causing Orn’s to fly from his hand and skitter away.

Orn looked exhausted, his breathing heavy, and he was covered in cuts and blood.

He stumbled, one hand pressed to his stomach where the blood flowed the most. And then, with one quick movement, Einar cut Orn’s head clean off.

I’d seen him do it before, when the Fer’na attacked, but it still startled me how easy he made it look.

Simon’s bondmate made a grunting sound, breaking the silence, that quickly spread through the clan. It turned into a kind of chant, until it was near deafening. No one explained to me what was happening, but Simon nudged me forward, jerking his chin toward Einar.

“Go.”

I did, my breath caught in my chest as I hurried to Einar’s side. He tucked me against him, lifting his sword into the air, and shouted something in the barbarian language that the clan shouted back in response. And then it was all over.