Iduna (3 page)

Morning came, and the road to Castle Gaelen was still empty, a rare occurrence in Iduna’s brief experiences. It appeared that the refugees at the inn were the only refugees there’d be.

She skirted the edge of the few towns she passed, not wanting another episode like two nights ago at the inn. From afar, the towns looked almost uninhabited. No smoke came from chimneys, and the streets were practically empty. Some souls walked about, but they moved curiously slow. Perhaps they were in mourning.

Exiting the edge of the shadowed woods into the late morning sunlight, she stopped her horse cold in his tracks.

Sprawling out in the valley below her, stretching as far as she could see, was the Ull camp. She backed up slowly into the sheltering shade of the trees and slipped off her horse. Grabbing her scoping spyglass from her pack and tying her horse to a tree, she then sank to sit on her heels and watch the camp.

She observed for hours, transfixed. It took a while to get past the enormity of the camp to focus on patterns. Small groups or individuals were constantly coming and going as warriors returned from hunting or stealing from the surrounding lands. They wore furs of gray and white, armor of leather or metal, and their blond hair naturally without adornment. She thought of her own shaggy locks.

“I’ll be able to fit in,” she whispered to herself.

The camp was incredibly large; it spanned multiple valleys. They couldn't possibly all know each other, which would be to her advantage. Tents were mostly small and came in a variety of shapes, one sign of their pillaging. She could see a large tent in the valley before her. It must be a leader’s tent. Fire pits were scattered throughout the camp and seemed to serve as hubs of activity for the group of people in the surrounding tents. Looking closer, she saw that some of their garments were also borrowed. She noticed a couple fire pits had groups of young teens while others seemed to only have adults. There were no elderly or children.

Every person at this camp was of an age to fight.

The repercussions were chilling. This enormous camp was all made of fighters. The council would not like that piece of news.

She needed to find out where this horde was heading. She would find a campfire, discover their secrets, and then she would return to Cha. At least her hours studying spells should help her here; the mastery of pitch and tone for casting would enable her to adopt their speech patterns, and she did have the memories of her parents to build upon. All she needed now were a few pieces of gear to blend in.

Moving into the dense woods, she worked her way back to the last village she'd passed. She’d avoided it earlier but now walked her horse down the main street. Houses and stores lined the road. The stone homes were quaint with vegetable gardens and roses that climbed their exteriors, but the places seemed empty and unkempt. The few people in the village looked cowed, walking like cattle from task to task, eyes blank and listless. Rage and sadness swelled briefly within her, but, like second nature, she focused on relaxing the spot behind her forehead and began breathing deeply.

A single teenage Ullman walked down the middle of the road, making his way from one house or store to the next. He carried a bag of loot and had a tight-lipped and narrowed gaze. He was built like a tree, solid and strong, with long stringy blond hair. She slipped into the house next in his path and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior. A woman with light red hair had jumped to stand, but Iduna put a finger to her lips and signaled for her to sit back down. The two women stared at each other and waited.

The door swung inward with a thump, and the Ullman took a bold, long step inside. The woman sitting at the table stood up numbly and shuffled down a hallway, and the elven youth followed her.

Gathering her calm, Iduna magically drew moisture from the soup boiling in the fireplace. Mist filled the room and surrounded the teen. He turned toward her, raising his sword. She used heat from the fire to flare the mist into a scalding heat around him, quick and searing. He collapsed in an awkward pile, his face covered in burns. She would count on his embarrassment over his facial burns to keep him silent enough and out of trouble. Even if he’d seen her, his vision wouldn’t recover for weeks, and, by then, she’d be gone.

Iduna stripped him of everything he had. She pulled on his boots and wrapped the fur around her lower legs, securing them with leather strips. His tunic came down to just above the boots. She layered on shoulder, chest, and arm guards, then gloves. The weapons he'd never had the chance to use on her came next. She dragged him out back and into the woods.

As she grabbed the pommel of her saddle to mount her horse, the gelding took a step forward. She moved to stand near his head to see what was going on. He sniffed her and stepped away as if she were a pile of fish or a swarm of bees, a mixture of distaste and fear. “It’s still me, boy,” she soothed him, stroking his nose and thinking. Getting the gear so easily, wearing these boots, she already felt different. It was a big change for her, and her horse seemed to think so too, but would it be enough to fool the camp of killers who had enraged the Gaelen at the inn by doing who-knew-what? She hopped onto the horse’s back with a firm grip on the reins.

She could only hope it was enough.

…

She dismounted when she reached the periphery of the camp, and removed the reins and saddle from her mount. She unleashed her horse into one of the many horse corrals, telling him that she’d come check on him later.

There were a number of campfires to choose from. Though she could fit in with the teens, if she wanted to get close to the leaders, she had better get into a group of older fighters.

It was hard to choose, and her decision would mean everything. If they discovered she didn’t belong, they would kill her.

She took her time, and listened to the tone and pitch of those around her. Carrying the saddle and her gear, she made her way to the largest tent in the area, since powerful people would likely have the best tents when on campaign.

A man and a woman were arguing by the fire closest to a large tent. They were bickering about something while a quail and small pig were cooking on a spit. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but something about it drew her. She dropped her belongings and sat down in their circle.

“You're going to burn that quail,” Iduna said, as she started to skin one of the three rabbits she'd snagged on her meandering way through the camp.

“See, Unger. You'd better listen to us. Chief Skuld doesn't like his food charred. He finds burned food distasteful. He'll burn you to match,” said the woman with large cheekbones, roses in her cheeks, and a teasing smile.

Unger eyed the bird, then Iduna. “What do you know about cooking?” He was a big man, with square shoulders and face, his white-blond hair cut jaggedly around his head.

“I know that a bird is smaller than a pig and takes less cooking.” Iduna didn't look up from her task.

Unger muttered and pulled the quail from the fire, tugging it off the turning stick and cursing his singed fingers.

“My husband will thank you later. I'm Freya. Who are you?” Freya asked, while passing a jug to the newcomer.

“Iduna.” She took a deep drink of the unknown liquid and felt warmth follow its progression to her empty stomach. She should have anticipated there'd be strong drinks at a military camp and at least bolstered herself with some fat. She passed the jug back and smiled. “Thanks. You have much better wine than the camp I was at last night.”

“Our family is known for a good drink.”

“And mine is known for not burning food,” Iduna said.

“Then you are welcome here, my friend,” Freya said.

Three hours later the night was deeper, and more people had joined the fire. Iduna sat watching the flames and people, her arms hugging her knees to her, trying to blend. Everyone had eaten their fill, and they lounged on each other while they talked. The sound of sporadic laughs carried through the dark like fireflies dancing at twilight—there for a second and almost imagined. The campers had piled the wood high, and the fire glowed hot and spirited.

“Tell a story,” one of the men called to Unger.

He dissuaded, but the single call was joined by many, and soon Unger gave in. He stood tall and surveyed the crowd. Freya started to play the drums, and she smiled at him. He returned her grin, and his eyes twinkled.

Iduna leaned forward.

Unger’s tale was of a young elf hunter named Gurunda who’d had enough of a certain Ull cuffler, a large beast with a shaggy coat and flat face that only emphasized its enormous teeth. The cuffler had been eating Gurunda’s fish, and Gurunda was going to catch the cuffler and make him pay.

A man and woman rolled off their perches. The man started to act like he was Gurunda, and the woman pulled her friend’s large white fur over her and pretended to be the cuffler. “Gurunda” took a hefty swig of ale and headed on his valiant quest. He walked around the fire while the woman covered in fur lumbered ahead. They circled while Unger continued telling the story.

“Gurunda walked into the cold, snowy morning. He discovered cuffler tracks and picked up his pace.”

The man playing Gurunda’s part mimed walking faster, pumping his arms and legs. Iduna chuckled along with the rest.

“The snow fell more rapidly as time went on, and Gurunda kept up his furious pace.”

The listeners laughed and waved their fingers like falling snow. The man and woman raced around the fire.

“As he ran out of energy …” Unger narrated.

“And ale!” cried the crowd.

“… he began to notice landmarks that he had seen just minutes earlier.” The Ullman stood in place and looked at some faces in the fire circle in exaggerated recognition.

“'I'm going in a circle!' Gurunda exclaimed. The cuffler then came up behind Gurunda just as he turned and leaped upon him."

The woman jumped into the arms of the man and began poking him until they both fell in fits of laughter. Everyone laughed and then broke into song as Freya beat out a rhythm that they all seemed to know. Iduna was jarred from the first real laugh she could remember by not knowing the words to the song. She picked up on a background chorus that repeated and threw her voice into the fray long into the night.

The morning was cold and crisp. Tendrils of smoke rose from campfires scattered over many miles. The smell of burned wood filled Iduna’s nostrils. She woke up slowly and burrowed into the warmth around her. In slow degrees, she remembered where she was. Her throat was sore from singing, yet her body relaxed and lethargic. Someone turned and put their arm around her with a hug. She was lying in a crisscrossed circle of people with furs below and over them. She felt a deep contentment that turned to discomfort as she became more alert.

“Come, let's get the breakfast going,” Freya whispered next to Iduna's ear.

Iduna nodded and extricated herself from the pile.

“The rabbits you made last night were delicious. Chief Skuld enjoyed them and wants you to keep cooking for him. Do you have any tricks for gruel?”

“Let's add some of this.” She pulled out the cinnamon she'd brought with her. Since it was frequently traded between Lawan and Gaelen, she trusted she could use it here without suspicion.

Freya smelled the sticks of cinnamon, broke off a piece, and sucked it in her mouth. A huge sleepy smile spread over her face. “Chief Skuld will be happy.”

Iduna had helped cook the day’s breakfast, lunch, and had started preparations for dinner. She was feeding the chief as well as the people of their fire. The work had kept her busy, but she needed to explore. She’d already found that the camp was organized around fires with an individual’s community defined by which fire he or she ate meals at. No one at her fire seemed to talk about the future or even the past. They seemed to live completely in the present.

Iduna didn’t have that luxury.

She knew what they’d done to Gaelen and that they must not be allowed to destroy Lawan. She would not let it happen. She must not let it happen. It was a tough balance, to fit in while spying. If she stayed with Freya and Unger too much, they might see through her. If she explored, then she exposed herself to more watchful gazes which could discover her secret. She could not be cautious. She needed to know more.

“Freya, I’m going to forage.”

“Do you need any help?” Freya asked as she looked up from peeling potatoes.

“No, I’ll go alone.”

Freya looked at Iduna. “You do remind me of my daughter. Unger, doesn’t she look a little like our Edda? She’s about the same age as when …”

“Don’t bring her up, Freya. It will just upset you,” Unger said, tossing a peeled carrot into a pile. He turned and looked at Iduna with an uncomfortable directness. “Iduna, how old are you? Where are your parents?”

“My parents are dead, and I’m old enough,” Iduna said and would have bit her tongue if it could take back the harsh-sounding words. She needed these people to feel she was old enough to be at their camp. She couldn’t risk being sent to a different campfire and miss getting closer to Chief Skuld.

“That you are.” Unger turned his attention to sharpening the cooking knives. Freya was looking down at the potatoes with determination.

Dismissed and free, Iduna walked to the top of the slight rise above her campfire. It felt odd to wander the camp of people who could soon be her enemy, but who also reminded her of her parents. She looked back to the fire that had become the center of her world. Unger had leaned forward to hold Freya’s hand. As he moved closer and pressed his forehead to his wife’s, as if to soothe her, Iduna turned away.

Training squares had been set up, and they were a hub of activity. She joined the laughing crowd gathered to watch a sparring match. One of the female warriors was fighting two men and appeared to be winning. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits and not the bloodthirsty barbarians she had expected to find. In fact they were warm and hospitable. One of the other women had braided Iduna’s hair, and Iduna had done the same for another. The men helped each other too. The ease and casual affection among them was disarming and incredibly comforting. Nothing had made her feel like this in years.

A man striding quickly through the crowd caught her eye. He had dark golden skin and brown hair tinged with burgundy. She hadn’t seen an Ull with brown hair so far, and his coloring was even different from the dark-haired people of Lawan. She pushed back from the rail and followed him from a short distance. He was heading toward one of the campfires of the youngest fighters. He was moving fast, but in a straight predictable line. People seemed to melt away from him. Other people walked about and sometimes blocked her view of him, but she found him quickly due to his unwavering path.

He was about to enter a small tent when a young female warrior grabbed his arm. She clutched him like a bird holding on to a branch in a blizzard, and her lips moved quickly. Iduna angled her way forward to hear what was being said.

“My sister is fine. She’s much calmer now,” the girl said.

“Is that right?” he asked her. He met her gaze straight on, and the girl shrank back visibly, dropping her hand from his arm. “It’s starting to look like you’re not feeling well also. How are you?” he asked.

“I am good.” She tucked her long straight hair behind her ears and lifted her face to look him squarely in the eyes. Her smile was hard and looked like it didn’t belong to her, like it had been crafted somewhere else and stuck on her face.

“Then you should join the others,” he suggested.

“Yes, of course.” She turned stiffly and walked right by Iduna. The girl’s eyes stared blankly while her mouth clenched to firm up her chin that shook ever-so-slightly.

The man entered the tent, and Iduna watched the closed flap, her mind spinning with possibilities. With each passing moment the urge to run into the tent grew stronger. What was he up to in there? What had upset the girl? Just then, the man came out of the tent. He smiled at someone passing by and left. She counted to three. Iduna tried to walk normally to the small tent. With two quick glances in each direction, she ducked inside.

She found a girl on a pile of furs who looked like the twin of the young woman Iduna had seen outside, with just one important difference.

This girl was dead.