God's Eye (The Northwomen Sagas #1) (34 page)

Was this Oili, the old völva?

She stood in the doorway and stared up at Brenna, her eyes wide and her mouth agape.

Vali noticed that her eyes were the exact color of Brenna’s left eye—the clear blue of summer sky.

This was Dagmar Wildheart.

At the same moment Vali knew her, she fell to her knees. “Brenna.”

Brenna dismounted and held out her hand. “Mother.”

Dagmar Wildheart, a storied shieldmaiden in her own right, reached up and clutched her daughter’s hand, but she did not rise. Instead, on her knees before her only living child, she wept.

~oOo~

There had been no effusive exchanges of apologies between these two strong women, no heartfelt cries of mutual love. Brenna had asked her mother to stand, and Dagmar had composed herself and stood. They had embraced stiffly, and then Brenna had introduced her mother to Vali.

Then they had gone into the derelict house, and Dagmar had offered them a meager meal.

Vali sat back and watched them as they navigated their reunion. What was clear to him, in this dreary house, seeing mother and daughter face to face, was that Brenna was the stronger of the two. Dagmar might have fought trolls in her youth, she might have fought in Jötunheim and killed giants—the stories would have it so, at least—but she had been broken. She had lost her children, and she had lost her husband, and she had given up that which was her own self and closed what was left off to rot along with this house.

Vali didn’t think there was any loss that would cause Brenna to give up herself.

Clearly, Dagmar would die here; she was waiting to die here. Without knowing why he did so, Vali suggested that she go with them to Karlsa. Both women agreed with little resistance. Brenna gave him a surprised glance, but then she nodded and reinforced the idea. By the time they retired to the straw mat on the floor, they had decided that Dagmar would leave her single goat and her five chickens for Oili, and they would pack up whatever belongings she wished to keep and ride for Halsgrof and the docks the next morning.

~oOo~

The next morning, Vali opened the door while the women were still dressing and came face to face with a tiny, ancient hag with wild white hair.

“Hello,” he said, surprised.

“You are the wolf,” said the old woman. “And the storm.”

“And you are the völva.” It wasn’t a leap to guess that she was Oili.

“You brought the God’s-Eye home, and now you mean to take the Wildheart away.”

He wondered if the old woman ever used anyone’s name. “I do.”

“That is good. Her heart has not been wild these long years since. She has more story to tell, but it won’t be told here.”

He felt Brenna’s hand on his back and sidestepped so she could come through. The old woman gasped, her toothless mouth wide, and rushed up to Brenna, reaching with her spotted, clawed hands. Vali lunged between them. “Watch what you do, old woman.”

“It’s all right, Vali,” Brenna said. “She means no harm.” She pulled on his arm until he stepped aside again. He felt a bit ridiculous, shielding Brenna from an ancient woman barely as tall as his elbow, but she was a völva, so who knew what she might be capable of.

“Hello, Oili,” Brenna said and held out her hand. The old woman grabbed it and turned the palm up. She brushed her shriveled fingers over it, frowning down as if in great concentration, muttering to herself all the while. Then she gasped again and stared up into Brenna’s face.

Letting go of Brenna’s palm, Oili stepped close and laid her hand, as flat as she could make it, on Brenna’s belly.

“Your womb thrives and fills again. You nurture a great warrior, Brenna God’s-Eye. Songs and stories will be made for her. Her light will be bright and warm as the sun.”

As Vali watched, his heart pounding with growing joy, Brenna laid her hand over Oili’s on her belly. “I am with child?”

“Not often do the gods let me see so much so clearly. It will not be an easy carrying, but if you are strong, she will be. You will need your mother with you. Go north and make your home. You and the wolf will fill it full with daughters and sons, until the day your family is complete.”

Brenna shook her head and dropped her hand from Oili’s. “It can never be complete.”

Oili patted her cheek. “Your boy of thunder waits for you, God’s-Eye. The gods keep him well until the day you join him.”

With that, the völva stepped back and reached into her patched hangerock and pulled out a small, soft leather pouch on a cord. She took it from her neck and held it out to Brenna. “Give this to your mother. Tell her I thank her for the goat and chickens.”

Then the old woman turned and shuffled away.

For a few stunned moments, Vali and Brenna watched her go. Then Vali went to his wife and knelt before her, laying his own hands on her belly. She was still so skinny.

“Do you think it is true?” He leaned his head against her.

Brenna laid her hands on his head. “Oili is a true völva. Think of all she knew of us. Yes, it is true.”

He stood and took hold of her chin. “She said it would be a hard carrying. I would keep you safe and comfortable. I would have you let me take that care. Please.”

“She said I should be strong, and that our daughter would be. Don’t try to make me weak. But I promise to be careful. And I promise to try to be patient with you and your care.”

He grinned. “That is enough. Now I want to get you home. To our home.”

His magnificent wife cupped his face in her hands and beamed up at him. “You are my home, Vali. I need no other.”

Oili had not overstated the difficulty of this pregnancy. From nearly the moment Brenna’s feet touched Karlsa soil, she had been sick and sore. The babe rested high, and as she grew she seemed to crush Brenna’s lungs and stomach so that she could never catch a full breath and she struggled always to keep any food long enough to nourish them both.

Olga and Dagmar had both fussed without cease, and Vali had nearly gone out of his head. Brenna had been weak and ill enough by the end that she accepted any and all care offered to her. The truth was that, even knowing the prophesy, she felt sorry for herself and struggled to keep her spirit.

She had found it easier to stay strong when she had been shackled in Åke’s dark hovel.

She worried endlessly that Oili had been wrong, or that there had been some twist in the words of the seeing that would take her happiness away. Prophesies were slippery, their import subjective. She thought of how Åke had taken his last prophesy. He had thought it meant his great success, but instead it had meant his ruin.

While she had struggled and suffered, Karlsa prospered. They had been welcomed as heroes, and there had been a great celebration when Vali reported that not only had Åke been defeated, but Vali himself was their new jarl.

Then, mere weeks after Vali, Brenna, and Dagmar had landed in Karlsa, just as the first snows of winter lay over the ground, many of the warriors who had stayed behind in Geitland arrived, reporting that Calder and his ships had returned, and that Leif had killed Calder in single combat. Eivind and Ulv, with the rest of Åke’s raiders, had been given the chance to swear fealty to Leif and save their heads. Eivind had refused. Ulv had sworn to Leif.

The era of greatness that the prophesy had foretold had dawned.

But Leif had not yet come. Despite Leif killing Calder, his best friend since childhood, and taking Eivind’s head, Vali saw his reluctance, if that was what it was, to come north as further evidence that he was no true friend. When Brenna suggested that Leif had a new jarldom and a new peace to make strong, and that in any case, the emerging winter was no time to travel when one would have a return trip as well, he remained unmoved. He kept stubborn hold of his anger and distrust, and Brenna knew that the ice between them would not be moved unless the two men could again be face to face.

Now, though, in the next summer, Brenna had more pressing concerns.

As another tightening racked her body and Dagmar helped her to sit up while she bore down, Brenna hoped that the prophesy about their daughter was true as she understood it.

The pain was like nothing she’d ever felt. She’d done this before, but had no memory at all of giving birth to her tiny son. This was worse than anything, worse even than the hot rods. More than that, it was
work
, more work that she had strength for, after months and months of bringing her food up.

She was much better at the work of the warrior than she was at the work of the woman. That had always been true. It made her worry about how she would mother her child.

Her strength gave out before the pain did, and she screamed.

“Gods! Help her!” Vali yelled.

Dagmar set Brenna back on the bed and stalked over to her husband. “Get OUT, Vali! You do her no good!” She shoved at his chest.

In this moment of respite, Brenna lay and watched them, trying to find her strength.

She saw Vali put his hands up as if he meant to shove her mother back, but then he stopped. “I will not leave them! I will not!”

Between Brenna’s legs, Olga said, “He is incorrigible, Dagmar. We can put him to use. Vali, take over for Dagmar. Dagmar, I need you here.” Brenna’s mother moved to the end of the bed, and her friend smiled up at her. “I know this has been long and hard, Brenna. Your daughter is a greedy girl, and she took all you gave her. She is big and strong, and you will need to be strong to push her forth. Remember what your seer told you.”

As another wave of pain crashed over her, Vali crouched at the side of their bed. He helped her to sit up. “Brenna, look at me. See me.”

She locked her eyes with his, those brilliant blue lights. Finding her shieldmaiden, she bore down, grunting with effort and agony, and he smiled.

“You bring forth a great warrior today. Like her mother. And her mother before her.”

Brenna nodded and bore down.

~oOo~

“Her name is Solveig,” Brenna said on a yawn.

Lying at her side, their daughter sleeping between them, Vali said, “That is a fine name. ‘The way of the sun.’ Yes. She is our sun and our way, I think.” He brushed his fingers over the soft, pale down that was her hair. “She is the most perfect thing I have seen ever in my life.”

They were alone in their quarters, all the fuss and mess having been cleared away. It was just them, their little family, snuggled together in their own bed.

Brenna kissed the back of her daughter’s head, then stayed there to breathe in the magical scent of her. It tugged at her heart in some way. That scent made her breasts tingle and her womb ache. It was as if love itself had a scent. She no longer worried about what kind of mother she would be. From the moment her daughter had been placed in her arms, she knew that she would do everything in all the worlds to raise her strong and content.

On the back of her right shoulder, Solveig had a birthmark. Just a tiny, dark red mark, no bigger than the tip of Brenna’s first finger.

It seemed to have the shape of a rayed sun.

“She has your eyes.” Feeling tired and happy and unbearably cozy, Brenna snuggled closer to her babe, under the furs. Her body was beset by myriad pains, and her bottom felt enormous, but she had never been more comfortable in her life.

“She has her own eyes,” Vali answered, leaning over to kiss Brenna’s temple. “She is magnificent. Like her mother.” He kissed her again, and she sighed. “Sleep, my love. I will be here when you and Solveig awaken.”

“You are mine,” she mumbled, feeling sleep ease over her shoulders.

“Ever will I be,” her husband whispered at her ear.