Giants of the Frost (31 page)

A long silence ensued. Vidar watched the fire, I watched Vidar.

Finally, he said, "Enough love touches your soul." He took a deep breath and his voice sounded sad. "It's older and brighter than the sun, and it's ancient and always new."

"Exactly," I said. Or at least I think I said it. An image laid itself over my vision; another hallucination, but this time it wasn't frightening at all. In it, Vidar and I stood at the edge of a stony beach, the sun setting on us, deep orange and dazzling. My hands were in his and I felt an intense and profound sense of connectedness: to Vidar, to myself, to the sun, to the earth, to time and the tides. Then the vision was gone and I was back in the drizzly forest. I pressed my fingers into my eyes.

"Victoria? Are you unwell?"

"Weird things have been happening to me ever since I arrived here," I said. "It usually frightens me but tonight I'm not frightened."

"Why not?" he asked, though I sensed he already knew what my answer would be. I met his gaze. "Because you make me feel safe," I said.

His brows drew down and his eyes grew intense. "While we sit here in the forest together, you are safe," he said. "But, Victoria, I can't protect you from everything."

A cold fear touched me on the toes. "What do you mean?"

There was a sudden thump and rustle which made me gasp and snap my head around. A chestnut stallion emerged from the trees. "Oh, God, he frightened me," I said.

"It's only Arvak," Vidar said, rising to go to the horse.

"I'm afraid of horses," I said.

"Why?" he said, stroking Arvak's nose.

"They're just so big and smelly."

Vidar gave me an amused smile. "Not so loud, Arvak's very sensitive." He beckoned to me with his free hand. "Come here. I'd like you to meet him."

I rose warily and made my way over to the edge of the cover. Arvak was wet and, I swear, giving Vidar a mournful look. I touched his nose tentatively. "He doesn't look happy."

"He's used to a warm, dry stable." Vidar rubbed the horse's ears. "Aren't you, old friend?"

"Have you had him a long time?"

"Since I was a boy."

I didn't know much about horses, but this didn't seem to add up. Arvak was not one of those saggy old horses with grey whiskers. "How old are you?" I asked.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-seven."

"I'm a little older than that." He smiled, his eyes twinkled.

"You're being all mysterious again," I said. "What's your star sign?"

"I don't know."

"When's your birthday?"

"I don't remember." He patted Arvak on the neck and sent the horse back into the woods.

"What's your mother's name?"

"Her name is Grid."

"What's your father's name?"

All smiles were withdrawn. "I cannot tell you."

I shrugged. "I can't tell you my father's name either. Mum's determined to keep it a secret, even though I keep trying to frighten her with the possibility of me accidentally marrying a relative one day." I sat back on the blanket. "I'm a Virgo, September 3, by the way. I don't believe for a second you don't remember your birthday."

"Where I come from, only children celebrate birthdays."

"What about Christmas?"

His face darkened. "Nobody celebrates Christmas." He sat on his log again and considered me in the firelight. "Nobody would dare to mention Christ."

The possibilities raced through my head. Religious cult? That would explain the clothes. Vidar leaned forward and touched my knee lightly. "I can see you guessing, Victoria. And I can tell you for certain that whatever you're guessing is wrong."

I glanced at my watch. "I should go," I said reluctantly. "I'm working tomorrow, and I'm already in trouble with my boss."

"You'll get wet if you leave now," he said, as the rain intensified overhead. "Stay until the rain eases. If you need to sleep, you can curl up there by the fire."

I needed little persuasion. "If you don't mind me staying…"

His voice was very soft. "Victoria, I would have you by me all through the night." A warm flame of longing ignited within me. I was gripped by a desire to go to him, press my mouth against his, slide my fingers under the rough cloth of his shirt to find the hot skin beneath. "I will stay," I said. "Right here. And sleep by the fire."

"Good."

But I didn't sleep, and neither did he. I talked, and he talked too, carefully but warmly. He told me stories from his childhood, stories about his mother, recited me some poetry in his own language, told me how much he despised his brothers, and explained how to build a house. I told him nearly everything that was important about me, and many things that were unimportant. We talked until our voices seemed to detach from our bodies and echo between the trees. We talked until my eyes were gritty and my head ached from tiredness. Strange feelings found paths through my body and mind, and I wondered, cautiously, if I were falling in love.

Pale light streaked the sky and I had to go.

"Tonight," I said. "I'll come back."

"I'll wait for you," he replied.

I reluctantly headed back to the station, hoping to catch a couple of hours' sleep before breakfast. I slept for four hours; I was late for breakfast. Nobody was in the galley to mind, however, and I still had fifteen minutes before I was due to start my shift. I smeared my toast with marmalade and slurped my hot tea, reliving the night's sweet moments in my imagination. "Vicky? You're up late." I turned around to see Gunnar, with four empty coffee cups, making his way to the sink.

"Yeah," I said. "Couldn't sleep last night. I only dropped off around five." I indicated the cups. "Cleaning out your cabin again?"

"Yeah," he said, opening the dishwasher. "You missed all the excitement this morning."

"Excitement?"

"Maryanne's lost her mind," he said, without humor.

I smiled. "What are you talking about?"

"Now she sleeps in Magnus's cabin, she swears she hears noises in the forest all night. She says she's being haunted."

I thought about Vidar and Arvak out there. "Wouldn't it just be the wind making noises? Or animals?"

"I think she's become a little obsessive. She doesn't sleep, she sits up at the window, watching." He sat down at the kitchen table with me. "She told us this morning that she's seen monsters in the forest. She looked insane. Her hair was unbrushed and her eyes were…" He did an impersonation of Maryanne, paranoid glance darting all over the room. "She says that she's heading home next time the
Jonsok
comes. Magnus looked positively devastated."

"Do you think he loves her?"

"I think he loves shagging her."

"It's not quite the same thing." I checked my watch. "I have to get to work. I'm in hot water with Magnus." I took my plate and cup to the dishwasher and headed for the door.

"Vicky," he said.

I turned to him. "Yeah?"

"You look nice today."

"Thanks," I mumbled, and left as quickly as I could.

The rain poured down all morning but had lifted by the afternoon. One or two brave stars even managed to peek through after dinner. I made my excuses and went to my cabin, grabbed the extra blankets and sneaked off into the forest.

When I arrived, Vidar was saddling Arvak.

"Are you going somewhere?" I asked, dropping the blankets by the fire.

"We are," he said, adjusting the bridle and patting Arvak's flank. "I've decided to cure you of your fear of horses."

"I can't ride a horse."

"You don't have to ride him. All you have to do is hang on to me." An ache moved up my ribs. "I can do that," I said.

He turned to me and smiled, put out his hand. "Come on."

The saddle seemed a long way up, but once I had my arms around Vidar's middle and my cheek pressed against his back, I decided the fear was worth it. Vidar pressed his hands against mine on his stomach.

"Hold on very tight," he said. "Don't let me go."

"I won't."
Ever
.

"Are you ready?"

"I am."

His hands withdrew, he picked up the reins and we moved. I held my breath.

"We'll leave the forest slowly," Vidar said. "We can pick up speed when we reach the beach." Pick up speed? It already felt as though the world were moving past in a blur. I closed my eyes and tightened my hold on Vidar. A few minutes passed like that, then Vidar's hand patted my own again. I opened my eyes. We were emerging from the trees. The ocean was hammering the beach, a pale blue half-moon hung in the sky between silver-rimmed clouds.

Vidar leaned forward and said something to Arvak in his own language, and we took off. I shrieked, but it was lost behind me. The wind roared in my ears, the tangy air froze on my lips and nose. The ground beneath us seemed to give way, then catch us again. Overwhelmed with sensation, I opened my mouth and laughter poured out of me. Vidar said something to me, but I didn't hear it. The motion and the cold and the sea were exhilarating. We sped through the night like souls escaping the gravity of living.

Finally, reluctantly, we slowed.

"We're about to run out of beach," Vidar said, indicating the rocks a quarter mile ahead of us. "Let's rest and make a fire."

I nodded, heedless of the knowledge that he couldn't see me nod. Arvak stopped and Vidar helped me down. He had brought kindling and firewood, and in a few short minutes had a fire going. Clouds had moved back over the sky and I watched them nervously. Rain would ruin everything.

"You look worried," Vidar said, settling on the sand next to me. Arvak wandered back toward the trees.

"It might rain," I said.

"It might not." He smiled at me, and I sensed that he was growing much more relaxed in my company. He stretched his arms above his head and heaved a sigh. "I love to ride. It fills me with wild feelings."

"Wild?"

"Wild and melancholy. Like happiness."

"You think happiness is wild and melancholy?" I asked.

"Don't you?"

I considered for a few moments. Then said, "I don't know. I'm not sure if I've ever been happy. I mean, it's more than just the absence of sadness, right?"

Vidar took my hand in his and turned it over, palm up. "Of course it is. It's wild. And it's melancholy." He traced a tiny circle on the inside of my wrist. "Your skin is so soft."

"Thank you," I said, but my voice seemed to come from a long way away. I wondered if he would kiss me. I was convinced that if he did, I would probably die.

He didn't kiss me. He dropped my hand gently and wrapped his arms around his knees, almost as though he regretted touching me in the first place.

"Why melancholy, though?" I asked.

"Because anything that causes deep joy casts the shadow of its possible loss." His gaze was far away to sea. I knew for certain one of those shadows preoccupied him at that moment. I watched his face for a long time: his straight nose, his broad forehead, his serious eyebrows, and his soft dark eyes smudged with some weary anxiety he wouldn't disclose. I felt wild feelings, and melancholy ones too.

He turned, saw me watching him, and an expression crossed his face: intense, desperate, lonely. I was certain he was about to say something to me—something profound and familiar that might reveal a hidden truth about the universe—but he said nothing.

Instead, he said, "Tell me why you're so fascinated with the weather." I found myself talking again, trying to cajole more details out of him with limited success. The rain set in around midnight, so we went back to his campsite and curled up among the blankets. We talked and we shared long silences, and he didn't touch me again, nor mention happiness. I spent the entire night in a state of heightened physical awareness, as though my body were preparing for any possibility: to ran away, to make love, to die. Dawn threatened a grey glimmer through the drizzle and it was time for me to leave again.

Vidar stood when I did, and hovered uncertainly while I packed up the blankets.

"I'll be back again tonight," I said.

"Victoria, how do you feel about me?"

At first I thought I hadn't heard the question right.

I paused, a few silent moments. His face was soft in the firelight, shadows gathered around him.

"I shouldn't have asked," he said quickly.

"No, no," I said. "I'm glad you asked."

He took a step forward and picked up my left hand. He pressed it against his chest, his heart beat beneath my fingers. "Victoria," he said again. "How do you feel about me?" I was overcome by conflicting thoughts and couldn't make a coherent answer. Part of me, the part that had two broken engagements behind her, warned me to be wary. "I don't know, Vidar. This whole thing is mad. I feel like I've known you forever and yet I know so little about you."

"I've told you many stories now," he protested, dropping my hand.

"But you've kept so much a secret," I said, feeling that this exchange was going very badly, that I'd ruined something beautiful and perfect.

He shrugged. "I understand. I will see you again this evening."

"Good night," I said softly.

"Good morning," he said, smiling ruefully.

I turned, I walked away, I took a deep breath. I felt wild and I felt melancholy. It wasn't happiness; it was love.

I stopped, glanced over my shoulder. Vidar was tightening the knots on the animal-skin tarpaulin above him.

I wavered a moment.

Then walked back to him.

"Vidar?"

He saw me and dropped his arms. "Victoria?"

It seemed that even the dark forest held its breath.

"Vidar," I said, reaching for his fingers and for my courage. "Vidar, I love you." With a sharp breath, almost as though I had wounded him, he seized me violently in his arms. I could hear his pulse thundering through his veins as he pressed me against his chest. Then he tipped my face upward and placed one hot, gentle kiss on my chin. I tried to return his kiss, but he pulled away sharply and touched a finger to my lips.

"No," he said, "not yet."

"Not yet?"

"Tonight," he said, his dark eyes glinting in the firelight. "Tonight I'll tell you everything."