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“Are you sure we’re headed in the right direction?” Eivor asked, squinting in the late afternoon sun that was flooding through the trees ahead of them, stabbing at their eyes like bright spears. They had been trudging in this direction for what felt like hours, and Eivor was a patient man, but even he had his limit.
“I am sure,” Basim replied and said nothing else, expecting Eivor to take him at his word.
It was a strange group. Birna and Finnr were having a loud conversation about their taste in women right behind where Eivor and Basim led the group, and the rest of his raiding crew were following behind them. The monastery was just far enough off the river that they had to disembark the ship and traipse through the scrubby forest in order to find it, and though none of the crew was complaining, Eivor was beginning to feel the strain himself.
According to Basim, there was a member of the Order there, and he wanted to have a hand in his assassination. Eivor was always up for a monastery raid, even if there wasn’t a member of the Order at the end of it, and he had agreed to bring Basim along. Basim’s presence, though, was enough to make him feel off balance. Normally, he’d be back with his crew listening as they cracked jokes and told stories, but with Basim there he felt he needed to put up a more professional front, whether or not Basim expected it of him.
“You’re quiet,” Basim commented as though he had read Eivor’s mind, shooting him a sideways glance.
“So are you,” Eivor replied.
“I like to center myself before a job,” Basim replied. “Calm is the best emotion for work like this.”
Eivor chuckled despite himself. “I feel many things when I slam my hammer into the side of a Saxon’s head, and I am not sure calm is one of them.”
“And yet you are a remarkable fighter. To each their own.”
The trees opened up, and there was the aging brick of the monastery, its banners flowing in the gentle wind that pushed through the rolling English countryside. The church sat in the center with its spindly steeple piercing the grey belly of the sky, low-lying buildings clustered around it in that same brown stone.
“I told you we would find it here,” Basim said, a hint of smugness in his dark voice.
“You did,” Eivor replied.
There was a spot in the stone wall that surrounded the entire monastery where weather and time had crumbled a shoulder-width portion of it, making it easy to scale. Eivor pulled himself up onto the highest point of the wall near the break, gesturing at the broken section and nodding at Birna so she knew where to lead the charge. Basim peeled away from the group to enter unseen at a different point, just as Eivor lifted his horn to his lips.
The warhorn split the air like thunder, and monks startled and bolted in every direction, shouts of terror on their lips. Eivor’s crew poured through the opening in the wall, and the clash of metal on metal filled the air as Saxon warriors rose to meet their attack. The battle burn in his blood was like a deep draught from a horn of ale, and Eivor relished the feeling of men crumbling under the swing of his weapon.
It was a large monastery with enough supplies to help them build at least two new buildings. Eivor helped his crew retrieve the supplies from the chests, and then decided to leave the last of the fighting to them and find Basim. He had killed plenty of Saxons this day, and though he did not think Basim needed his help, there was no reason to leave him alone to his task.
He turned to Birna, who was wiping the blood on her axe off on a torn piece of flag. “We’re done here. You can gather the crew and head out.”
Birna nodded and winked. “Sure thing.”
A glowing window on the second level of the church drew Eivor’s eye, and the shadows dancing through the stained glass were enough of a clue. He gripped the uneven masonry and heaved himself up the side of the church, thankful for the jutting stones that allowed his feet to find purchase.
About halfway up to the window, there was a ledge just big enough to stand, and he used it to nock his bow and fire an arrow at the stained glass. It shattered, colorful shards dancing to the ground below like strange tears. Eivor hauled himself the final distance up the wall and then vaulted through the open window.
He landed on a small wooden platform overlooking what appeared to be a small chamber containing a desk and a few other odds and ends, and there Basim was cornering a man in a monk robe.
“You really think eliminating me will do anything to stop the Order?” the man hissed in a thin, reedy voice.
“I think ridding the earth of your poisonous words will do plenty,” Basim replied. His voice was like honey in comparison. Eivor sometimes wondered what a man like Basim could hide in the smoothness of his words.
The snick of Basim’s hidden blade reached Eivor’s ears, and he watched as Basim plunged it deep in the monk’s throat.
A plank in the platform Eivor was standing on snapped with a loud sound, and it drew Basim's attention just as another monk stepped out of the shadows and up to Basim. Eivor regained his balance in time to see the monk plunging his dagged into Basim's side.
Eivor launched himself off the platform, heart beating a wild pattern in his throat, and the second monk collapsed underneath Eivor’s weight, a curse falling from his lips.
“Are you part of the Order, or just stupid?” Eivor hissed.
The monk’s eyes were wide and terrified, and Eivor noticed that he appeared to be fairly young. “The Order? You heathens make no sense.”
Eivor sighed and climbed off the monk. “Get out of here and maybe you’ll live.” He hauled the monk to his feet and shoved, and the quivering man took off towards the front door of the church.
Eivor turned to see Basim clutching his side, an expression of irritation twisting his features.
“Are you okay?” Eivor asked, reaching out to grip Basim’s shoulder.
Basim grimaced. “You have become the unfortunate witness to an incredibly sloppy assassination.”
"I distracted you,” Eivor replied.
"Even so," Basim replied, and then curled inward on himself, and Eivor tightened his grip to hold him steady.
“Easy. We need to get out of here.”
Basim leaned against the desk. “Search his pockets.”
Eivor stepped back from Basim and kneeled down next to the body. An Order medallion hung around his neck and there was a scroll in his pocket. Eivor took both before standing and turning back to Basim.
Basim was holding a hand over his wound, and his expression was haggard.
Eivor moved into his space again. “Come on. We need to get that looked at.”
He helped Basim loop his free arm over Eivor’s shoulders and together, they limped their way to the front exit of the church. The deep red striping down the white fabric of Basim’s robe matched the red of his sashes, and it made a pulse of worry strike deep in Eivor’s chest.
“If you die from the blade of an anxious monk, that would be a dishonor no one could shoulder.”
Basim laughed, a pained, throaty noise near Eivor’s ear. “Then I will endeavor not to die.”
They stepped out into the growing dusk, and it was with a sinking feeling Eivor remembered he had sent his warriors away. A distant horn added to his feeling of dread: there were reinforcements headed to the monastery, and it was likely his raiding crew were too far away to be of much use right now.
Eivor cursed. The place they had entered was all the way across the monastery grounds, and the surrounding wall was tall, too tall for Basim to scale safely in his state.
“Did you spot a way to get out when you circled earlier?” Eivor asked.
“There is a cart set against the wall behind the church. It is tall enough to make scaling the wall easier.”
“And the other side?”
“We will have to manage,” Basim replied.
Eivor sighed and led them around the side of the church, keeping close to the bushes in case the reinforcements reached them too quickly. Eivor could hear them shouting in the distance. As they moved, Basim’s breath grew heavier and he leaned more of his weight against Eivor. How they were going to make it over the wall, Eivor had no idea.
The cart was full of hay, and where it sat, it reached about halfway up the side of the stone wall, high enough to jump to the top of the wall if you were standing on the edge of it.
“You with me, Basim?” Eivor asked.
“Let’s get this over with,” Basim replied in a rough voice.
“I’m going to get up on the cart first, and I’ll pull you up,” Eivor said, and Basim nodded. Eivor heaved himself onto the wooden edge, leaned down, and braced himself. Basim reached up, and Eivor grabbed his forearm.
Basim was, unfortunately, not a light man, and it took considerable strength for Eivor to haul him up. Basim tried to use his feet for leverage, but he was weakened by his wound, and they were both panting by the time he was next to Eivor on the cart.
“Odin’s beard,” Eivor cursed.
The loud voices of the Saxons grew closer, and Eivor stood. He helped Basim to his feet on the wooden edge, and they both circled the outside of the cart so they were standing on the side closest to the wall. “I think it will be easier if I boost you up this time.”
Basim nodded, though he didn’t look enthusiastic about it.
Eivor crouched and offered his cupped palms. Basim gave them an unhappy look before he stepped into the proffered foothold. Eivor heaved him upwards, and Basim sprung with his remaining strength, and he managed to grab hold of the top of the wall and pull himself up. He let out a groan of pain as Eivor hurried to climb up onto the wall next to him.
“Remind me to never get stabbed,” Basim gasped.
Eivor looked down the wall, despairing at the distance to the hard ground below. “How do you feel about trusting me to catch you?”
The clang of the Saxons drew nearer. Any moment now they’d be rounding the corner of the church.
“I don’t see I have any other choice,” Basim replied.
Eivor hopped down and landed hard on the packed earth. It was not a short jump, and it was not going to be pleasant for either of them.
“If you don’t catch me, my retribution will be ruthless,” Basim said.
“Trust me,” Eivor said. “I will catch you.”
Basim cast a look upwards before shifting forward on the wall. He pressed his feet against the side of the wall for leverage, made eye contact with Eivor, and then pushed off the wall. Eivor braced himself, and as soon as Basim’s feet hit the ground, Eivor’s arms came up around him to keep him from crumpling to the ground. Basim’s chin dug into the fur of his mantle, his breath harsh as he leaned into Eivor.
“You okay?” Eivor asked quietly.
“I’m alive,” Basim replied.
“Let’s get a little further away from the monastery, and then we can take a break.”
“Indeed.”
Basim was even weaker than before, and Eivor practically had to drag him deeper into the woods. By the time he finally slowed, the Saxon voices were swallowed by the distance, and a full darkness had settled over the land. Basim’s shallow panting was loud in his ear, and when Eivor slowed to a stop in a small clearing, he lowered Basim to the ground to lean against a tree with a groan of his own at the aching in his shoulder.
He kneeled down next to him in the brush. “I’m going to get a fire started, otherwise I won’t be able to see anything.”
Basim didn’t reply. His eyes were hooded, and the pallid glow of his skin was apparent even in the darkness.
Eivor hurried to start a small fire in the clearing. If Basim died out here, Eivor would never forgive himself.
It was a risk, starting a fire when the Saxons could still be looking for them, but no fire would be much worse. When he got it to a healthy crackle, he moved to Basim’s side. Basim had managed to get his hood off and was struggling with his belt when Eivor kneeled down next to him.
“Here,” Eivor said, reaching out to help him. It was challenging work, and Basim’s armor had more layers than Eivor expected, but they eventually got Basim down to his undertunic and breeches. The left side of the fabric was soaked in Basim’s blood, and the iron tinge hit Eivor’s nose in a strong wave.
“Let’s stop the bleeding,” Eivor said, and he grabbed a random piece of fabric from Basim’s discarded armor, lifted Basim’s tunic, and pressed the balled-up fabric to the wound. Basim let out a sharp breath, but he remained still as Eivor applied pressure to his abdomen.
After the bleeding slowed substantially and Eivor had cleaned the area around the wound to the best of his ability using water from his waterskin, Eivor snagged more fabric from Basim’s armor to bind the wound. By the time he was done, Basim looked haggard and exhausted. He was resting his head against the tree behind him, eyes half-closed.
“Here. Drink some of this,” Eivor said, lifting his waterskin. Basim grasped it with a bloodied hand and took a few long sips.
Eivor sat back on his heels and glanced around the darkening forest. They had yet to be discovered out here, which Eivor took to mean their pursuers had given up. They would have to find a village to borrow a horse, or find some other means of travel that didn’t involve traipsing through the forest for miles.
“Next time you drag me and my raiding crew to some unknown monastery, I’m doing more research,” Eivor said, settling more comfortably by the fire. There was nowhere to go right now, not with the velvety blackness of night surrounding them.
“I damaged your trust in me, I see,” Basim replied, voice not much more than a low rasp. “I would feel the same in your position.”
“We all make mistakes,” Eivor replied. “Perhaps you have only succeeded in making yourself seem more human.”
“A pity.”
Now that Eivor wasn’t hurrying to bind a bleeding wound, his eyes drifted over Basim’s form. He was smaller out of his armor, but still broad in the shoulders. The firelight painted the strong lines of his face in blunted edges, and Eivor thought again how handsome he was. It was a thought never far from his grasp, but Basim’s behavior often eclipsed any attraction Eivor felt for him. Here, with Basim’s face softened from the pain, out of his armor with his hair limp around his face, Eivor could feel that pull again, strong as ever. Maybe it was wrong to have such thoughts of a man injured and vulnerable, but somehow, Eivor didn’t think Basim was ever truly vulnerable.
“You are staring. Care to speak your mind?” Basim asked, eyes still closed. There was a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
Eivor cleared his throat and turned his gaze back to the fire. “It’s a novelty to see you like this, that is all.”
“And I will endeavor to keep it a novelty,” Basim replied. “But I am glad at least one of us is entertained.”
Eivor thought about that night in Cent, about the old sorrow in Basim’s voice. Eivor realized he missed the temporary closeness, and he wondered what it would take to get it back. With Sigurd present in Ravensthorpe again, there was no common goal holding Basim and Eivor together.
“If you want to get some sleep, I can keep watch,” Eivor eventually said when his thoughts threatened to spiral out of his control.
“Might as well.”
Eivor watched as Basim eased himself into a reclined position on the forest floor and breathed out a shaky breath of relief. Eivor imagined that he was in a lot of pain, but he also looked exhausted, and sleep would do him well. When the sun rose, they would figure out how to get back to Ravensthorpe, but until then, they could do nothing but rest.
The night grew around them as Basim’s breathing evened out, and Eivor turned his gaze to the small patch of stars he could see through the grasping branches of the trees. The stars felt distant here in England, and if not for the constant prattle of the One-Eyed in his ear, Eivor might have thought England further away from the grasp of the gods.
Eivor passed the night in light meditation, undisturbed until a change in Basim’s breathing brought his focus back to the present. Basim’s breath was coming in quick bursts, full of pain and what sounded like panic. Eivor maneuvered the short distance between them and kneeled over Basim.
His brow was pinched in distress and there was a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead.
“Basim, wake up,” Eivor said, and he reached out and grasped Basim’s shoulder.
Before Eivor could do anything more than move back slightly, Basim’s hidden blade was at Eivor’s throat, his hand fisted in the front of Eivor’s cloak, and his expression one of barely-checked fury.
“Basim, it’s me,” Eivor breathed, holding himself as still as possible. “It's just me."
The anger on Basim’s face cleared as he recognized Eivor and realized where he was. He retracted the wrist blade, though his hand remained clasped in Eivor’s cloak. It was like watching a man he didn’t know transform into Basim in front of his eyes.
“Apologies.” His voice was nothing more than a low rumble.
They were in a strange sort of impasse, with Basim’s grip still on Eivor’s cloak, and Eivor keeping himself propped up with a hand on the ground by Basim’s shoulder. He could easily break Basim’s hold, but there was something keeping him from doing so.
“You were having a nightmare,” Eivor breathed, feeling his heartbeat running wild in his chest. Basim’s knuckles were brushing the base of his throat, and the skin contact made the skin of Eivor's neck feel hot.
How had this spiraled so quickly out of Eivor’s control?
“And you were kind enough to wake me from that nightmare,” Basim replied. His gaze was dark in the shadowed firelight, and Eivor’s breath caught in his chest when it flickered down to Eivor’s mouth. “My savior, yet again.” His voice had the curled tone of mocking, but it was belied by the heat in his eyes.
The low simmer between them kicked up, and Eivor moved the only direction that Basim’s hold wasn’t keeping him from moving: forward.
The first touch of their lips was clumsy and off-center, but Basim’s hand on the back of Eivor’s head steadied him, pulled Eivor in exactly where Basim wanted him, and then Basim was kissing him with intent. Eivor’s pulse felt like thunder in his ears.
Here was another facet of Basim that Eivor desperately wanted to know. Basim was always so carefully controlled, calculating, and intelligent, but with a passion you could see if you knew how to look for it. Here was a taste of that passion, that roaring ocean beneath the calm surface. Eivor dove head-first into the waves and pushed into the kiss. Basim’s hand tightened on the back of his head.
Eivor shifted his weight to take some of the pressure off his elbow, and he felt Basim’s hiss against his mouth. He pulled back to see Basim’s face creased in pain.
“This is foolish,” Eivor said, heart beating in his throat. “You’re injured.”
Basim hummed, closing his eyes for a moment. “That is not the only reason it’s foolish.” His grip on Eivor’s cloak finally loosened, and Eivor pulled away entirely, sitting back on his heels to put some distance between them. It was like stepping out of the range of a fire and feeling the cold press of a winter evening on his face.
Eivor glanced upwards and saw that the first watery tinge of dawn was lighting the sky. His gaze turned back to Basim when he heard movement, and he saw that Basim was shifting to sit up against the tree again.
“How are you feeling?” Eivor asked. He could still feel Basim’s kiss on his mouth.
“There is pain, but it is manageable,” Basim replied. “I don’t believe his blade was long.”
“We will wait until the sun rises, and then we will find a way back to Ravensthorpe,” Eivor said after a few moments of silence.
The air grew thick and awkward between them as dawn turned into morning. Eivor wanted to talk about what had happened, but the closed expression that had grown on Basim’s face kept him from doing so. He was just about to suggest they start preparing to set out and find the nearest settlement when there was a crack, and both of their heads snapped towards the sound. Someone was approaching from outside the clearing.
“Shit,” Eivor cursed as he pulled out his axe and heaved himself to his feet. “Show yourself!”
“Eivor?” Like a Valkyrie through the fog, Birna stepped into their clearing, a broad smile on her face. “Thank the gods, it is you!”
“Birna?” Eivor asked in bewilderment.
“We’ve been looking all over for you. Thought the Saxons had got you. Is he injured?” she asked gesturing to Basim.
"A minor flesh wound," Basim replied, expression mildly sardonic.
She turned her head and cupped a hand around her mouth. “They’re over here!” she bellowed. She turned back to Eivor. “Feels kinda exciting to be saving the Wolf-Kissed for once.”
With Basim safely on the back of a horse, they trekked through the woods to the longship. Eivor walked a little ahead with Birna and Finnr, but he could feel Basim’s eyes on him like a brand of heat. This was something they would need to address, one way or another, or it would sit between them like a living thing.
For now, though, Eivor would keep the thoughts of that kiss to himself. It was a problem for another day. If Eivor’s gaze lingered on Basim as well, that was for only the two of them to know.