Legend of the Mist (12 page)

Followed by another round of guffaws, Einarr approached Norah and offered his arm
. Gingerly, she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, curbing a shudder at the iron muscles beneath her fingertips. Companionably, he led her away from the ridge and in the direction of the village.

“I never had a chance before now to speak with you,
fifla
,” he began. “Then again I have had no reason to. You know, I promised your father that I would not tell you of the arrangement he and I made that night three years past.”

The casual way he spoke stung Norah, and she blinked back a sudden rush of angry tears. That night three years past, the
night her father had pleaded with a murderer who was responsible for the slaughter of half her clan.

“Is that so,
sir?” she said tersely.

“I must say, his
plan was an intriguing one. To be offered not only the hand of his beautiful daughter, but also the connections she brings from the mainland of Scotland. Of course, I did not know you were so beautiful at the time. I only had Chief
Feh
-ruh-ker’s assurances that you were. He did not lie, I see that now for myself.”

“Thank ye, s
ir.”

“I remember you
from that night. You were leading a group of children to safety. I came across your path, and we ... how would you say ... we
connected
our eyes? I remember the fear I saw in yours, but also the strength. How you stood in front of those children, begging me to take your life in place of theirs. Your eyes were so steady as you looked at the face of your own death. It impressed me, did you know?”

“I
didna, though I do remember the moment ye describe.”

“I let you go,
fifla
. You escaped because I allowed it, ja?”

“I
ken,” Norah admitted. “I am no’ fool enough to believe otherwise.”

“Do not misunderstand me,
myn fagra
, I do not mean to frighten you now. I am only recalling our first meeting. I promised you I would treat you fairly so long as you were an obedient
vif
. But I found you beautiful even then. I am pleased by it. And you are young enough that you will remain beautiful for a long time to come, which pleases me even more. There is nothing worse than a beautiful woman who is worn into a
tunrida
before her time.”

“
Tunrida
, sir?”

“It’s ... well, we’d say a hedge-rider. A
hexe
; a witch; an ugly, old woman.”

“A hag?” Norah provided.

“Ah, ja. That is a fine word, a hag! You know, I am reminded of a woman from my own village of Hvaleyrr, Gnud. She is a
hora
—a whore—but she was beautiful not so long ago. Long hair the colour of the sun, a glorious face, and an even more glorious
fadmr
.” He cupped his hands at his chest in illustration. “Then, within only a few years time her beauty withered. Her hair thinned, her face grew lined, and her
fadmr
began to sag as low as her
fitta
.” When he waved his hand in front of his groin again in illustration, Norah turned her gaze sharply away.

“Forgive me, but may I enquire as to why my connections to the mainland of Scotland are important?”
she said.

Einarr laughed heartily. “I see you are a proper maid, uncomfortable with such crude talk. I am glad. Well then, to answer your question, I desire connections to support my war against Harald Fairhair.”

“I dinna ken the name.”

“King of all Norway,”
he sneered, and spat over his shoulder with hate. “Or so he calls himself. Connections are important. If ever this war deepens, I shall have numbers on my side, numbers that Harald cannot match with all his enemies in
Skaney
. I am told that the Campbell clan will come to my aid if I ask them, and there are more connections on which I can call if I need them.”

Norah was not at all certain that the Gallach clan’s ties to Clan Campbell would indeed mean
an alliance for Einarr, but she kept quiet. She did not wish to expose her father’s bluff—if indeed that was what it was. She wasn’t sure.

By
then they had reached the village, and were wandering among the widely scattered collection of dwellings. Sitting outside one of the low houses, talking to an elderly clansman, was Torsten.

Norah
smiled, and her heart leapt in her chest. Spotting her at the same time, Torsten felt his own heart leap, and just barely managed to stop himself from grinning widely in front of his brother.

“Ah, Torsten, come here, will you?” Einarr called.

Torsten bid his respects to the old man with whom he’d been conversing, and in no great hurry crossed the short distance to where the pair stood.

“Is this not a wonderful thing? I am g
etting to know my bride,” Einarr proclaimed.

“
So I see,” Torsten answered, glancing laughingly at Norah.

“
We have been for a lovely walk just now, and have discussed much ... or, well, perhaps I have been doing the talking, but it has been nice.”

“You are lucky, then, to have found a young woman who will listen to your endless
babbling without dying of boredom.”

Einarr laughed
and slapped his brother on the back, inadvertently pulling Norah forward in the process. Startled, she found her face nearly pressed to Torsten’s chest. The fragrance of him surrounded her: the salt wind of the sea, a trace of spice mingling with the linen of his shirt. And something else, some unnameable scent which she remembered from a time long ago.

Torsten felt his pulse quicken at
her nearness, and when he stepped back he found he could not look at her right away for fear that he would reveal his innermost thoughts. Instead, he focussed on his brother.

“Your men seem to be getting along with the clanspeople of Fara. Are they behaving themselves?”

“They are,” Norah answered on Einarr’s behalf—more for the pleasure of talking to him than to defend the Viking conquerors. “We have existed together quite peaceably for the past three years. ‘Tis a shame ye couldna join us sooner. The island has missed ye.”

The island has missed y
e
. The deeper meaning which he detected hit Torsten with an unexpected force, striking a target within him that he never knew was there. He cleared his throat.

“It seems, brother, that your ranks have refreshed themselves. I see many new faces I do not remember, and there are many faces which I remember that I do not see.”

“Ja ... well, I might have cleansed my men somewhat,” Einarr admitted begrudgingly.

“Cleansed? Some of your most prized and deadly warriors are gone. You mean to tell me that you removed them by choice?”

“I did, and you can mock me all you wish. But believe it or not, I learned something from the raid on Bjarmaland. Having the bloodlust is all well and good when raiding foreign lands, but when fighting your enemies on your own soil, you cannot slaughter innocents along with them. Otherwise you will leave yourself no allies and make more enemies than you bargained for. As deadly as some of my warriors were they could not be taught the lesson. So I made them leave to satisfy their bloodlust elsewhere.”

This new and somewhat enlightened Einarr surprised Torsten. He was about to comment on the fact when he
noticed that, beside him, Norah looked rather peaked. He understood immediately that Einarr’s casual talk of bloodlust and raiding on foreign lands had stirred the anguish and anger which she, as a survivor, still painfully carried. For her sake, he changed the subject.

“
Lady Norah, I have something for you. I did not give it to you earlier, because I wished my brother to be here as well.”

He
reached beneath the neckline of his shirt to the small, inner pocket where he still kept the amulet from Gulnaraj. His fingers clasped the large ruby, warm from the heat of his own body. Tentatively he withdrew it, and let the jewel fall, dangling it from his forefinger by the delicate chain of Persian gold.

“
Thor’s balls! Where did you get your hands on something like that?” Einarr gaped.

“
It was a gift from my partner. We traded spices together. When I told him I was leaving to attend your w-wedding,” Torsten nearly choked on the word, “he gave it to me to bestow upon my brother’s bride.”

“It is a beautiful gift,” Einarr marvelled. “Befitting one so beautiful as yourself,
fifla
. Look, the
rauthr
—the gem—it matches your hair.”

“It is called
‘ruby’ in Gaelic,” Torsten put in shyly.

The heat of Norah’s gaze set his face aflame, for she was not looking at the amule
t, she was looking at him with tender awe. He swallowed nervously, his hand still suspended mid-air with the necklace dangling from his fingers.

“Will you not take it,
fifla
?” Einarr prodded.

“I am sorry, s
ir,” she said so quietly it was nearly a whisper. “I am just stunned by yer generosity. I am no’ worthy of something so precious.”

“Of course you are,
myn fagra
,” Einarr declared. “If any woman is worthy of such a thing, it is one no less beautiful than you.”

Still gaping at the gem which he held out for her, Norah raised her hand, and
allowed Torsten to drop the necklace into her palm. The invisible force which connected them surged between them again, and it took every ounce of strength Torsten had not to pull her into his arms and draw her mouth to his.

“Brother, you are very generous to part with such a valuable item, no matter the reason it was given to you,” Einarr
said, breaking the spell of which he was entirely unaware. “Yet another thing so very un-Viking-like about you. You surprise me more and more each time we meet. Come, walk with us a while.”

As the trio began anew their
leisurely stroll through the village, Norah glanced between the two men, her brows lifted in question.

E
inarr explained his remark: “My brother is quite possibly the worst Viking you could ever imagine, for he does not approve of what Vikings actually do: we
vike
.”

“
I canna believe it,” Norah gasped, fixing Torsten with a mischievous glance.

It was the same mischievous look she’d given him the day before when they’d had their walk together.
Did ye no’ hear? I am mad
, she’d said so casually it had caught Torsten off guard. Remembering it, he barked a laugh, which startled Einarr.

“Forgive me, I was ... er, thinking of something else,” he provided lamely.

“Truly, I think your mind has shattered in your time away, man,” Einarr said to his brother in Norse.

Re
cognizing that he used the word
krasa
, which Torsten had explained to her, Norah giggled. In turn it caused Einarr to stare at
her
suspiciously. Her excuse was more tactful than Torsten’s had been.

“I
didna mean to laugh, sir. ‘Tis just the pair of ye remind me of my own brothers. Why, just the other day Madeg and Friseal were at each other in much the same way.”

“Speaking of your brother,
fifla
, why is it your Garrett has not come to meals these past few days? Unless my eyes play tricks on me, he has been absent ever since our marriage was announced.”

“I ken, s
ir. I have noticed also.”

“Why does he stay away?” Torsten inquired.

“Well,” Norah sighed, and paused, considering how best to explain. “He feels he has betrayed me. Or rather, he
thinks
that
I
feel he’s betrayed me. He kent of my father’s arrangement wi’ Sir Einarr, ye see. In his mind he thinks I hold him to blame for no’ saving me from the union. We are very close, Garrett and I.”

“
Do
you hold him to blame?”

“Odin, give me strength,” Einarr grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“I did at first, aye,” Norah admitted, ignoring him. “But now I ken he had no choice in the matter, as I have no choice. There is something larger happening here than my own, insignificant wants, something greater than myself which I must no’ hinder.”

Einarr chuckled. “I am glad you have seen sense. You are right, the safety of your clan
was at stake. You are very self-sacrificing.”

Torsten did not say anything for he could not swallow past the lump
that had formed in his throat. Once again he understood a deeper meaning than his brother failed to detect. And he sensed that Norah was right about it ... though what that ‘something larger’ was he couldn’t fathom.

It frightened him
, nonetheless.