Lord of the Runes (12 page)

Magnus would see to it that she wasn't near him for very long. She would search in a different group with one of her brothers. Once she told them she intended to go.

Eirik stood near the hearth talking to Leif. He was dressed for battle in an expensive leather tunic. It was no doubt his own, covered by metal links sewn onto it. His fine sword hung at his side and he'd braided back the front of his long hair. He was magnificent.

All men knew something of fighting. Even a rune caster would know how to defend himself in his travels. And yet, his golden skin had shown the scars of warfare and he was hardened and strong. His arms were sculpted, his body as sleek as any blade.

“Asa? What are you doing?” Magnus, thankfully, interrupted that path of thinking.

She faced him as the room quieted. “Since I have my sword, I thought it would be obvious.”

“You are not going out there with us.” He spoke low, but his powerful voice carried.

“I am what you made me. A shieldmaiden. This is what I do, the same as any of you.”

“Not the same.” He crossed his arms.

“The same.” She met his angry gaze. “Would you deny me my word-fame? You trained me to fight.”

“To defend yourself.”

“So I am. Along with this village and its people. Would you do any less?”

“I do this so that you and the others may live long lives.”

“And die old and wrinkled and toothless in my bed. I fear that as much as any of you, Magnus.” She softened her voice. “I'll always do as you ask, for you're my brother and my jarl. The Norns decree the moment we each will die, no matter where we are. If it is my time, then I'll pass to the next life whether I'm here or in battle. Don't deny me my chance to sit with Freya in her hall at Folkvang while you drink and fight in Valhalla. She takes half the warriors as well for her hall after each battle, so we may be together there even after we die. I don't want her to ask me where my sword is and why I died alone while others fought.”

He regarded her for several moments, his jaw clenched. Then he gave her one short nod. “You stay with Leif or me at all times. And you do as we say.”

“Thank you.” She wouldn't show him any sign of sisterly affection now in front of the men, but he knew how she felt. She picked up her own shield from a table at the center of the room and tested its weight.

“You should obey your brother and listen to his wisdom.” Hjellmar stood behind her and her muscles tensed. “A woman doesn't understand these things. The only time they understand anything at all is when they're on their backs. Even then, it doesn't matter what they think.”

One or two of the men chuckled, but most stayed silent. Her chest tightened and the blood pounded in her ears. There was only one thing he would understand. She chose an axe from the table and pivoted, slamming the shield into him and throwing him off balance. Hooking the beard of the axe behind his leg, she yanked him off his feet. He fell backward, flailing. She dropped the axe and had the tip of her sword at his throat before he hit the ground.

The room darkened around her until she saw only him. He lay frozen, his hands up, eyes wide. Her neck throbbed with her heartbeat and his fast breathing filled her head.

“What were you saying about being on one's back, Hjellmar? I'm guessing you're thinking very, very clearly now, aren't you?” She gripped her sword hilt harder in spite of the gold wire wrapped around it. The discomfort anchored her. “I am the sister of your jarl. You will respect me, if not in your thoughts, then in your words.”

He nodded, but still she couldn't move. The darkness closed in, the welcome darkness, where no one would ever see her pain, her shame.

“Asa, I think you've made your point. Don't put it in his throat.” Leif's words penetrated the shadows surrounding her. “He's an idiot, yes. But we need numbers here.”

The humor that was always in his voice broke through her anger and she stepped back. Hjellmar rose, eyeing her, his face red. He backed away from her and looked at the other men.

“Wait until she stands at your back in battle and her woman's arm isn't strong enough to stop an enemy's death blow. Then we'll see how welcome she is to fight with us.” He grabbed his cloak and strode out of the longhouse. She almost went after him.

Leif stopped her, smiling, and nudged her shoulder. “Do you still have some of that stew you tried to make last month? I think some of it's still stuck to the bottom of the pot. We could dip our arrows in it and set them aflame to fire at the outcasts.”

Her heart lightened at his familiar teasing.

“Or,” the warrior Arne said, “we could have her make some more and leave it for them to steal. They would be too busy with the shits and we wouldn't have to fight them.”

Several of the men chuckled and she had to smile.

“What? And deprive you of your bloodletting?” She sheathed her sword. “Besides, our shipwrights used it to seal the bottom of the boats when they ran out of tar and animal hair, remember?” The men shouted their appreciation of the banter. “Leif, I can always see if there's any left on the walls of the cooking room that the women couldn't pry off. I can coat some arrows with it and fire them at you to see if it works.”

The men roared and she laughed with them, her hand relaxing on the grip of her shield. They, at least, accepted her. It hadn't been easy, but she'd proven herself to them more than once.

Eirik smiled with the others, but he looked only at her, his blue eyes glittering with humor. She avoided his gaze and walked over to Magnus.

“I see Eirik is coming with us.”

“Yes. He offered. I accepted. I think it's better to have him with us, where we know what he's doing. And we can use the help. We don't know how many outcasts there are or what we'll face. He'll be with you and me. Leif will take the second group and Arne will lead the third. That will allow us to spread out but still have the strength to engage whatever force we meet.”

He turned to the men. “We'll head out. The days are short, so we won't have much time to search before dark. Tomorrow, we'll be better organized and can leave at first light.”

“If any of us survive the drinking tonight,” Arne said. “It is our solemn duty to honor Alv in fine style. This is, after all, his
sjaund
.”

The men cheered and struck their swords on their shields.

“Then we head out now, so that we may return all the sooner and begin.” Leif raised his sword above his head and they all followed suit, shouting.

Once she got outside, she stuck her shield upright in the snow and knelt to tie on her skis. They would use them to travel faster and farther while they searched the woods. If necessary, they could fight with them on, but they could cut the laces in a moment. She carried an extra set of the walrus-hide strips for such a situation.

Eirik skied over to her. “You need to watch out for Hjellmar.”

She picked up her shield and stood. “He's never been silent on how he feels about shieldmaidens. He can disagree with women fighting, but he can't disrespect me, if only because I'm the sister of his jarl.”

“I know. But you embarrassed him in front of these men. He won't forget it.”

She checked her sword, loosening it in its sheath. “Good. I won't have to remind him again.”

He slid closer and spoke low. “You've made an enemy this day.”

She smiled. “Then I'll have to tell Leif how I did it. He said he asked Magnus how to make an enemy, but he didn't say why he wanted one.”

He shook his head. “I'll watch your back, then, if you won't. And Magnus will be there.”

She touched his arm. “Eirik, don't take my levity as complacency. This is an old war between Hjellmar and me. It goes back to the time when Magnus first started my training six years ago. Hjellmar thought to dissuade me with his words, but it just made me more determined. I learned quickly that I had to protect myself against men like him.”

“I'd say you learned your lessons well, judging from what I saw in there.” His smile was warm. “You're very quick. That can triumph over brawn any day. He's just too foolish to see it.”

Heat crept into her cheeks. She wasn't accustomed to praise about her abilities. “We'd best join the others. The sun is low. There will be shadows enough, even now.”

They skied over to Magnus's group. He nodded at them. “Eirik, show us where you saw the tracks the day of the funeral. It's as good a place to start as any. They may have returned there since.”

Eirik led the way out of the village, into the woods. Asa stayed beside Magnus, while several of his warriors flanked them. The rest spread out behind them and to their sides.

He stopped near a cliff that had partially collapsed. There was nothing except piles of large, flat stones where they had sheared off in the landslide. Some of the ground had been disturbed and it appeared as though a couple of the stones had been shifted.

“Strange,” Magnus said. “Why would they want these rocks? They're too big to carry any distance, especially in these mountains.”

Eirik had skied a short distance away. He motioned to them. “There aren't any tracks here, but something has gone through this brush. It's dried out and breaks easily.” He pointed to broken branches.

Magnus examined them. “It might have been an animal. But it's all we have to go on and it's as good a direction as any.”

Asa's heart sped up. She'd fought before, but those had been quick skirmishes against pirates on their ships. There'd been plenty of time to prepare once they'd seen the sails on the horizon. Their merchant vessels were no match for the speed of the sleek longships the pirates favored. No other ship on the seas was faster anywhere in the world. In the slower ships, her brothers and their men had had no choice but to stand and fight. Neither had she. She'd held her own, her brothers backing her.

This was different. They couldn't know, from one moment to the next, when the outcasts might attack them, nor where, nor how. They might be a few leaderless men, or there might be an army of them, well led and well armed.

She glanced around at the men. Their eyes were bright, many of them smiling. They lived for this. Tonight, some might drink in Odin's hall in Asgard, and others in Magnus's longhouse. To them, it made little difference.

They skied through the area, finding nothing, until the shadows made it too dangerous to continue. Magnus called a halt. “We'd best head back while we have a bit of light. We're not too far from Thorsfjell.”

“Wait.” Eirik lifted his hand. Voices filtered through the trees to the north.

He shifted closer to Asa, and Magnus moved to her other side. They all unsheathed their swords, the archers arming their bows. She hefted her blade, the familiar weight steadying her.

Light laughter drifted to them and she looked at Magnus. He rolled his eyes as they all relaxed and sheathed their swords. A group of men came through the trees toward them.

“Leif,” Magnus said, “why don't you just announce to everyone in the
fjells
that you're here? We could have ambushed you and had you killed already.”

“Do you think so?” Leif nodded behind Magnus as he skied up to him.

Five of the men assigned to Leif moved out from the trees to the south, grinning.

Leif clapped him on the shoulder. “Now who would have ambushed who?”

Magnus shot him a disgusted look. “Well, at least you haven't forgotten everything I taught you.”

“
You
taught me?”

“All right,” Asa said. “You can argue about your male pride over a mug of ale this night. Right now, it's getting dark and we need to return. And with the way the sky looks, we may have a storm tonight. Leif, did you see anything?”

“A few signs of old fires, but that was all. With the intermittent snowfall, and possibly another blizzard, it's going to be difficult to find any trace of them until they make a move.”

Magnus took a deep breath. “And that's what I'm concerned about. With as bold as they've become, what
will
their next move be?”

T
he hearth fire in the center of the common room provided the only light. Shadows leapt up the walls behind all those gathered for the funeral ale. Magnus stood in front of the two ornate chairs on the dais at the front of the room. He didn't often use them, preferring to sit among his people, but for high occasions, they were a symbol of his title.

Asa spoke with Alv's wife. The widow had recovered from her fever, perhaps thanks to Eirik's runes, and stood with a little girl before her. Magnus smiled to himself. Asa was so beautiful, dressed in her finery. Even as she bent to talk to the little girl, she held herself as befitted her rank, with pride and strength. It was said that only the tallest and most elegant of women became shieldmaidens. In Asa's case, that was true.

He glanced at the rune caster. Eirik stood in the shadows, but he didn't watch the ceremony. He watched Asa. All that day, Eirik had remained at her side, as though he had a right to guard her. That remained to be seen.

Magnus looked at his people. “We are here to acknowledge Alv. By now, he is with the gods. And as we drink the sacred ale, we mark the final line between life and death.”

They raised their horns and then drank without stopping. The ceremonial vessels, once filled, could not be set down until they were emptied.

He wiped his mouth and walked down to Asa and the young widow.

“The real drinking is about to start. It might be wise to take all the children elsewhere for the night.”

“Yes, Jarl Magnus.” The woman took her daughter's hand and joined the others who were leaving.

Asa sighed. “I hope the men remember there's plenty of food as well.”

“I doubt it,” he said. “But we can always hope. We'll need them at least standing on their skis tomorrow morning, if the weather allows, when we go searching again.”

She gave a short laugh. “We can always hope, indeed.”

He sat down and watched her as she showed the last of the women and children out. She would be a natural mother, if only she could accept it. If only a man could see beyond the past that had shaped her, and love her for who she was.

Beautiful. Strong. Proud. Damaged. Somewhere, there must be a man who would love her despite that, and who could heal her as well.

Magnus studied Eirik as he stood talking to several of the men. Come tomorrow, he would likely disappear. Again. It was becoming a habit for him to go elsewhere in the day, and sometimes at night until late. If he were meeting with the outcasts, he wouldn't be so obvious as to do so now. Whoever he was, he wasn't a fool.

He could have Eirik watched, but Eirik would likely know it. No, the truth would come out when they found and fought the outcasts. Then he would see what the rune caster was truly made of. Perhaps Eirik would be a valuable ally. Or maybe, as Asa had feared, Magnus had let a wolf come among them. If so, he would protect what was his.

After all, he had hunted wolves before.

* * *

As it was, the hungover men were able to sleep it off. The blizzard Asa had predicted hit hard during the night. Eirik smiled as he wove his way through the common room. The warriors, and many of the women, had stayed up playing drinking games and telling wild stories until hours after midnight. Now they lay, passed out, all over the tops of tables, benches, the floor, and each other. Several of them still clutched their empty cups.

He had done his fair share of drinking, as well. But he had spent the past three years raiding and traveling with his cousin, Rorik. That had taught him to hold his ale and mead with the best of them.

Blizzard or no blizzard, he had work to do. He huddled inside his cloak and fought through the blowing snow toward the small shed out behind the stables. The wind almost ripped the door out of his hands, but he slipped into the building and shut it tight behind him. In the darkness, by feel alone, he took out his metal fire-starter and struck it with a hard stone. A spark jumped into the small brazier in the center of the room. With the small flame, he lit the other brazier and then several oil lamps. In so tiny a room, they would warm it well enough for his purposes.

He positioned one of the lamps hanging overhead so it shone on the large flat stone propped against a barrel. Working in near darkness was proving difficult. He'd had to keep the door closed, not so much because of the cold, but to keep anyone from hearing him.

This was some of his finest work. The World Tree, Yggdrasil, stood in the center of the stone, as it stood in the axis of all Nine Worlds. Its roots curled down and around the bottom. He'd begun to carve one of the swans that swam in the spring of Mimir that gushed from beneath the tree. On its branches, he'd drawn the image of an eagle. He would carve it next.

Sjurd had found him a hammer and copper chisel. He needed to get in a full day's work, for once the storm subsided, they'd resume the search for the outcasts.

It was important that he go with them. Outcasts had taken his own village, killed his people, and forced him into exile. He wouldn't allow this to happen to Thorsfjell and to Asa. The outcasts would grow in numbers until they become strong enough to attack, as they had in Hordaland.

Even if Magnus could fight them off, many of these people would die. Eirik had been too late and too weak to stop them at home, but that wouldn't be the case here. It was one of the reasons he'd remained relatively sober last night. Magnus and Leif had done the same. They couldn't risk letting down their guard, even for such a ceremony.

The eagle took shape beneath the point of the chisel. This was simple work. But soon, Asa would carve the runes on the dragon, and he'd call upon the ancient powers to guide her. She wouldn't be able to work on it during the days, though, for she would go with the warriors again on their search. He hesitated.

Rorik had six shieldmaidens fighting with him, so Eirik was accustomed to the idea of women in battle. One of them was Rorik's sister, his cousin. Still, the idea of Asa fighting chilled him.

He should maintain his own distance. But ever since he had helped Asa with the runes, that had been impossible. Something had happened between them when he'd placed his hand on her shoulder and spoken the words to bring the power. The lines of the drawings had wrapped around them, holding them together with their magic. They'd work together on the runes at night when everyone else was asleep. Alone.

If she were his, he could just lock her away and never let her pick up a sword again. But how could he deprive her of her right to protect her people? She blossomed when she held her blade. She stood taller and with more pride, as though she could take on the world. It gave her strength, bringing light to the shadows that haunted her dark eyes. He could never douse that light.

Besides, a woman didn't need to fight to be in danger. Even now, Silvi and their mother were fighting for their people in their own way. He closed his eyes as the pain flickered in his heart. Also, simply by giving birth, women risked more than any man ever did. He knew all too well just how much.

A warrior had his weapons, his skill, and his strength to guard him. A woman had nothing but her own body when she brought a child into this world. No shield, no battle-luck, no one else standing at her back to block a death blow from an enemy. Yet, she would risk her life over and over, with joy, to become a mother.

Eirik shook his head. To think Hjellmar had scoffed at the strength of a woman.

And what of Asa's reaction to Hjellmar's taunting? She'd struck with such control, dropping him to the floor so fast, no one could have moved to stop her if she had chosen to slay him. Her hand holding her sword had turned white with the strength of her grip. Her eyes had been dark and distant, as though she saw something only in her mind. Or in her past?

Many warriors entered another mind-place when they fought. Perhaps she did, as well. She'd come out of it easily enough when Leif spoke to her.

Eirik continued chipping at the stone. He'd stay close to her when they went back out, as would Magnus. The jarl still didn't quite trust him. He'd sensed it from the start. Eirik didn't blame him. He was unknown to them. Soon he would prove himself to the brothers, and especially to Asa. His skill in battle would help them trust him, as would this memorial stone.

The rest of the winter still lay ahead. Perhaps he could use this time to consider an alliance, to build their trust in one another, and to gather the power he would need. The magic of the runes had already spoken to Asa and him, binding them both together. She had to have heard it in her soul.

And in the nights to come, he would make certain she understood what it said.

* * *

With dried shark's skin, Asa sanded the piece of interlacing on the front of the dragon. But it was already as smooth as she could make it and she tossed the skin on the table. She was ready to carve the runes, and yet she procrastinated. Every time she looked at the symbols, drawn in coal along the neck, the memory of when and how they were made crashed into her.

The other women in the room chatted as they wove on the great looms, speaking of women's things. Usually their talk didn't bother her. But lately, it had been distracting. Perhaps it was because they were all trapped inside. The blizzard that had struck a week ago hadn't let up. The snow was so deep and the cold so harsh, it was difficult to go outside. The men were testy, the children bored, and the women short-tempered because they had to put up with all of them.

At least the midwinter celebration of Jul, the longest night of the year, was only a few days away. The men would brave the cold to go hunting tomorrow. It would give them all a reprieve from each other and put a fine feast on the tables.

She picked up a small horse carving she had just finished. The children of the village would have their gifts on Jul night. Then their mothers would settle them by the hearth and they'd listen to tales told far into the night.

She sighed. The next time she saw Eirik, she'd speak to him about helping her carve the runes. There was no more reason to delay. But she had seen little of him of late. He was gone almost all day, coming in only for the late meal. Where would he go?

His touch holds much magic, does it not?
Her stomach flipped at the memory of Estrid's words. How could she have known about the feelings he created unless she had been with him? Was that where he was spending his days? With her? Or with any of the other women who followed him with their eyes? Most of the people here were related in some way and they looked to outsiders for marriages. Often people had to wait for the yearly Thing meeting in the summer to find potential spouses.

Much of their interest was also because of Eirik himself. His clothes were very high quality, and the hammer of Thor pendant he wore would cost many years' income for most men. His strength, his comeliness, and his rare smile spoke to all the women near him. He carried himself like a warrior. With his fineness and easy pride, he could have been a king's son.

She set down the horse with the other trinkets. It was no matter to her. She only needed him to bring the power into the runes. Let the other women have him as long as he helped her with the carving.

Once the snow stopped, they'd search for the outcasts during the short days. Estrid and the others would just have to wait for him to finish helping her each evening. The nights were long enough this time of year for all of them.

He was at the evening meal, sitting with Leif and several other men. When they finished eating, she crossed to the table.

“Rune caster, I need to speak to you, if you have the time.”

“Of course.” He stood with a grin as the others nudged each other and chuckled. She shot Leif a halfhearted glare for instigating it, then walked with Eirik to the door of the weaving room.

“I'm ready to begin carving the runes. I know the days will be full when we resume the search, but if you could spare a little time from your nightly activities, I would appreciate it.” She couldn't keep the sharpness from her voice. He gave her a questioning glance, but she remained silent.

He went to the dragon's head and circled it. She stayed by the doorway. The only light came from the fire and lamps in the common room. The thin glow played over his long hair and the planes of his face.

He touched the dragon on the side of the neck. The symbols seemed to writhe under his hand in the flickering light. Nodding, he raised his eyes to hers and awareness spread through her body, tightening her muscles. He held her gaze captive and she couldn't look away from him.

He smiled. “I think we're ready. Tomorrow night, I'll meet you here after the meal. We'll begin at the top with Thurisaz. With as quickly as you work, it shouldn't take long for each one.” He hesitated. “You must have felt the power of the runes when we drew them the other day.”

She had sensed something, but what? “I'm not certain. I always feel some kind of energy when I carve. It comes from within me.”

“I think they speak to you. Have you ever considered carving them? You could learn, and with your skill, you—”

“No.” She backed out of the doorway. “I don't have the mind for such things. I'll see you tomorrow night.” With her heart racing, she left, and went back to her room. Settling on the bed, she folded her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She rested her chin on her knees, closing her eyes.

If she ever allowed the runes to reach what lay within her, they would tear open the wounds once again and allow the world to see them. The piercing touch of the runes, the intimate touch of a man. They were the same. She could never risk either of them.

She opened her eyes and gazed into the darkness. She would have to allow it, just this once, to give the dragon what it demanded. Magnus would sell it to the Danish king at Hedeby and she would never have to see it, or Eirik, again.