Divide and Conquer by Carrie Ryan Read Free Book Online

out a bow and a quiver of arrows as if she’d have any idea how to use them. “We have to fight.”
    In the distance Sera heard the first Viking war horn begin to blow. It was followed by another and another until the air was swollen with the sound of them. “But what if we fail? What if the Vikings take Paris after all?”
    Once again Bill glanced at Riq, and Sera was pretty sure there was some sort of silent communication between them that she wasn’t a part of. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he finally said as the first of the Viking catapults let loose with a barrage of stones and arrows.

    Rollo had shoved Dak into a tent, set Vígi at the entrance to guard him, and then traipsed off to the battlefield. Dak protested as much as he could — not only did he absolutely have to get back to Sera, but he also wasn’t keen on the idea of completely missing the battle. That just wasn’t fair!
    At first Dak tried to sneak past Vígi, but even when she seemed in the deepest sleep (as indicated by ear-shattering snores), the moment Dak reached for the tent flap she’d leap to her feet and growl so loud he felt the air hum.
    In the end, he came up with a foolproof plan. Vígi was just like every other dog he’d ever known: Give her a solid ten minutes of scratching behind the ears and she’d pledge her life to you. In fact, his plan to win her over worked too well — she tried to follow him out onto the battlefield several times until he finally had to find a length of rope and tie her to a support pole in the tent.
    “Sorry, girl,” he said, giving her a good rub under the chin when she looked up at him mournfully. “I don’t want you getting hurt,” he added. Her expression seemed to ask, “What about you?” which was a question Dak didn’t want to think about.
    He’d found a pair of pants and a slightly flaredwool tunic and had exchanged his Frankish clothes so that he’d blend in easier with the Viking horde. It seemed to work, because as he walked through the camp no one paid him any mind. From there it was just a matter of following the sounds of battle.
    Dak figured he had read more about war than anyone he knew. He’d memorized casualty lists and studied time lines of weapons development and learned battle strategy, and until this moment he’d have called himself an expert.
    But real war was nothing like the accounts he’d read in books. First, there was the noise — it was so much louder than he’d ever expected. Men shouted commands, trebuchets launched piles of stones, and ballistae shotjavelins into the air; horns blared and church bells rang. Then there were the smells: smoke from fires set against the walls around the city, blood from open wounds, the earthy stench of mud and sweat.
    His fingers itched for his SQuare diary to record it all with. In his mind he imagined returning home, sharing his firsthand account, and becoming a famous historian. He’d be a world-renowned expert and when he opened his mouth to share random bits of history, people would listen without laughing or rolling their eyes.
    Just as his daydream culminated with him walking across the stage to receive the Nobel Prize , he was interrupted by harsh reality.
    “You, boy!” someone shouted angrily. Dak glanced over his shoulder, attempting to look innocent. He recognized the Viking who was approaching him. It was one of the men who’d accompanied Siegfried into the chapel the previous morning — the one named Gorm, with the bright red scar slashing from eyebrow to chin, who had seemed suspicious of Riq’s ability to speak both Old Norse and French. “Don’t you think you’re a little out of time?” he asked Dak now.
    The question sounded harmless enough, but Dak grasped its double meaning. Gorm knew Dak wasn’t supposed to be there, that he was from another century.
    Which meant that Dak was in big trouble if Gorm got his hands on him.
    So Dak ran — right into the heart of the battlefield.

S ERA