Lord of the Runes (22 page)

Magnus looked at them. “The pyres are being built even now. We will honor our dead, and feast to them as they fly to Valhalla. The outcasts we have caught will be sacrificed to Odin to thank him for our victory. Their blood will flow into the ground, nourishing the life that will soon grow from it with the spring. In seven days, we'll hold the
sjaund
, but this night, we'll see our warriors to the next life with much joy for their good fortune.”

The men drifted away to see to the preparations and to continue cleaning up after the battle. Hjellmar cast her a sour look, then stalked away. Estrid started to follow him, but stopped.

“They wouldn't be so quick to praise you if they knew what you truly are, Asa. Those scars just make it harder for you to use your beauty to lure them to their destruction.”

“Enough, Estrid.” Did she think her words could do any further harm to her than what had already happened that day? The dance with death that all warriors experienced tended to change things. It had changed her. “The words you've said over the years always devastated me, but now they're little more than the buzzing of gnats. Go make your own happiness, Estrid. If you can. Arne told me to take what I would from my life, for all too soon, it can end. We travel different roads now, you and I. I am what I am and you are what you are. And you can blame no one for that but yourself.”

Estrid pressed her lips together. She ran after Hjellmar, who didn't wait for her. Asa sighed and rested back against the wall. Let them have each other. It was likely all they would ever have.

She'd had no idea how Magnus's men felt about her. Their respect had rung in their voices, and their admiration had shone in their eyes as they'd spoken of her exploits in the fight. She was so much richer than she had ever dreamed, yet she hadn't seen it. Her fears had driven her apart from them, but if she could weather the storms of battle, then she could stand with any of them with pride. And they would stand with her.

Eirik spoke with her brothers and several of the men. Even dirtied and bloodied from war, he shone, the tallest and most powerful of them all. She smiled. Well, perhaps he was equal to Magnus and Leif. Did she dare take Arne's advice and grasp this chance with both hands? Could she be what he wanted? Years ago, when she'd first gone to battle, she hadn't been certain she could do it. But Magnus had said she would never know what she was made of until she experienced it.

She'd always taken for granted that her past would rise again to haunt her if she tried to trust again, so she had never given any man a chance. But, as in battle, how would she know unless she tried? If she could trust Eirik enough to stand with him in war, shouldn't she be able to trust him with the most vulnerable part of her? The part no shield or sword or battle-skill could protect?

Could she trust him with her heart?

* * *

The feast was subdued, for they were exhausted, in body and in mind. The people of Thorsfjell had lifted many cups of ale, wine, and mead in appreciation to the gods for their victory. Now, while they were all together, Eirik wanted to give them his own gift of thanks.

He left the celebration and headed for the shed where the rune stone waited. Earlier, Sjurd had helped him lever it up onto a small cart, and they'd pull it into the road in front of the longhouse. He would rather have erected it first, but he wasn't certain where Magnus would want it. So he'd present it on the cart, and tomorrow they could place it in its permanent place.

He smiled to himself as he walked. Asa had been so overwhelmed at the feast when they'd all lifted a cup to her. Even the women had chimed in, for the outcasts would have raped and killed them and their children if they'd been able to attack the longhouse as they'd planned. It was only Asa's realization of what they might try that had thwarted them.

She'd been so beautiful, dressed in her finest blue gown, her necklace of amber and precious stones glinting in the light of the longhearth fire. Because of her bandaged arm, Magnus and Leif hadn't let her do anything for herself, having the servants bring her food and drink. She'd snapped at them about having them feed her by hand as well, but then she'd laughed along with everyone else. And he'd fallen in love with her a little bit more.

He couldn't deny it any longer. She was beautiful, intelligent, and strong—all the things he needed in a wife. Before he met her, he'd thought that could be enough. But it wouldn't be. Not after knowing love with Sela. This was so much more, for Sela and he had never been a match for each other. Asa and he were as two halves of the same whole.

The love he'd felt for Sela seemed as weak and faded as she had been. He'd remember her with fondness and respect, though guilt for her death would always ride with him. But the feelings he had for Asa were as powerful and fiery as she was.

He had to persuade Magnus to allow him to marry her. Then he would have to win her, and of the two, the latter would be far more difficult.

He nodded to Sjurd, who waited for him by the shed. Together, they pulled the cart with the covered heavy stone down to the front of the longhouse. The young man waited while Eirik went into the building. The feast had ended and the evening's games and music were about to begin. He walked over to Magnus, who sat at a table with Leif, Asa, and several other warriors. The jarl preferred to join his people rather than sit above them on the dais. He would have to remember that when he took Haardvik back and regained his title.

He waited at the end of the table until they all looked at him. “Magnus, I did something to thank you and your people for all they have done for me. May I speak to them?”

Magnus glanced at Leif and Asa. “Of course.” He called for everyone's attention and they quieted.

Eirik stepped away from the table so everyone could better see him. “At the beginning of the winter, you took me in and saved my life. Since then, I have tried to thank you in any way I could by reading your runes and standing with you in battle. But these things are fleeting and will not survive the test of time.”

Several people shouted out denials, but he held up his hand. “I want my thanks to outlast my stay here. The spring comes to the coast and soon I must leave to continue my journey to Trøndelag. My gift to you waits outside.”

The people looked at each other and murmured questions, but they all rose. Magnus, Leif, and Asa followed him out first, then the others poured from the longhouse.

He walked to the cart and waited until everyone had gathered around it. “I have learned that the former jarl, Sigrund, never had a memorial erected to him. It's not fitting that such a great man as Sigrund should be forgotten in ages to come. And so, I made this in remembrance of a man of wisdom, far-seeing, and honor.”

He drew off the cloth covering the stone and everyone leaned in to see it, those in the back asking what it was. Yggdrasil filled the center of the carving and around the outside of the design, runes circled it, telling the tale of the jarl. The work was precise, detailed, and beautiful, his finest stone.

The people exclaimed at its beauty. Asa and her brothers came forward to lay their hands on it, running their fingers over the leaves and branches, tracing the symbols along the border. Questions came from the villagers and warriors in the back of the crowd.

“What does it say?”

“I can't read it over the people in front of me.”

“You can't read at all.”

“Say what's written on it aloud.”

Magnus held up his hand and all the people quieted. “Rune carver?”

Eirik didn't need to read it, for he knew the words. He looked, instead, at all the people as he spoke. “It says, ‘Eirik carved these runes for Magnus, Leif, and Asa in honor of their father, Sigrund. He went to the East in search of gold. On the way back from Miklagard, he died in the Aifur with his sword in his hand. May Thor consecrate these runes.”

“By the gods. It's perfect.” Magnus strode to him and held out his hand. They clasped wrists, then Leif followed suit. Asa went to him, her eyes down, a slight smile on her lips.

“I thank you, Eirik. This means more to us than you can ever know.” She gave him a quick hug as a blush stained her cheeks. He held her a moment longer, then let her go.

“I never had a chance to carve one for my own father who was lost in battle,” he said. “I was too late to save him. But I would see yours honored.”

“Tomorrow, we'll erect this in our sacred grove.” Magnus gazed down at it. “And we'll remember our father and drink to him. We held his
sjaund
long ago, but this will please him in Valhalla.”

The villagers came forward, a few at a time, and stared at it in awe, touching it, some crying. The warriors clapped him on the back and thanked him.

Magnus stood beside him and when the crowd had thinned, he shook his head. “So this is where you've been the past months.”

“Yes. Sjurd found me a place to work in a storage shed behind the barn so I could carve undetected. We found the stone up on the ridge, where we first saw signs of the outcasts.”

“I'd always wondered why you would go up there. And when you spent so much time gone, I thought perhaps . . .” He hesitated.

“That I was looking to join them?” He half smiled. He'd been right in thinking that they hadn't trusted him.

“It was only that you were a stranger here.”

“I know. I might have thought the same thing if our positions were reversed.”

Magnus gripped his shoulder. “We have much to thank you for. We'll miss your wisdom and your good sword arm. Anything you need for your journey to your cousin, you have but to ask. Let us know when you want to leave. If the ice has broken up in our branch of the fjord by then, I'll arrange for one of my ships to take you to Trøndelag. It will be a much shorter and safer trip for you that way instead of over land. We have a road to the valley where our ships are beached for the winter. They're not as fast as most longships since we use them for cargo, but they'll do.”

Eirik grinned. “My thanks. I welcome your help.” A weight slid off his shoulders. It would cut his traveling time into a fraction of what it would have been. He'd have to leave his horse behind, but he would have no need of it before he returned home. He could send for it later, and that wouldn't be all he'd want from here.

While Magnus was feeling indebted to him, there were other things he needed to speak with him about. He should strike while the iron was hot, but he'd wait a few days until they had recovered from the battle.

However, this didn't involve only Magnus's feelings. Asa would have something to say about it all, as well. He could chisel the World Tree into stone itself, but could he chip away the wall she had built up around herself?

* * *

So much blood.

Estrid stood alone in the stained snow of the clearing, breathing in the metallic scent as the others left. They'd sacrificed the captive outlaws to Odin in thanks for their victory, but also as punishment for attacking the village. Their bodies would remain here until the gods came for them and took them into Helheim. And now the people all went to erect the rune stone for the old jarl, the one who had taken her mother and her mother's sister away from their native land and forced them into marriage, ruining their lives.

She looked at the carnage around her. The gods loved blood. Asa had sacrificed her own flesh in the fight to protect Thorsfjell and look how everyone admired her. Eirik had walked at her side from the death ceremony, even though she would be scarred and ugly now. Her power was too strong for him to resist her.

It wasn't the dragon after all. Asa still worked on it, painting it to hide the hideous eye, as she would hide the damage to her arm with fine clothes. It wouldn't be enough at this point to attack the dragon.

Estrid knelt on the wet ground where the snow had melted from the hot blood of the sacrificed men. She would have to take the next step, and very soon. If she didn't hurry, Eirik would depart without her, and the only man who walked in other worlds as she did would be gone. She had to break Asa's spell before that. Now it was obvious that the evil lay, not in the dragon, but in Asa. The dragon was just her idol she worshipped every day. She even ate beside it.

She touched a puddle of blood and smeared it on her right forearm. Where Asa's blood had flowed from her wounds. But that wasn't good enough. She needed to gain the gods' favor to be successful, and didn't that require a sacrifice?

The seax lay on the tree stump where Magnus had killed the outcasts. She picked it up and the blood on the blade shone in the weak sunlight. So bright, so beautiful. Like the rubies the old jarl had brought back from the East one year.

Coldness fingered through her heart. A wounded arm was one thing, an easy thing, but a hand injury was quite another. It was much more important. She would show everyone how brave she was, how much she was willing to honor the gods. How she would give of herself to break the spell and save Eirik and Thorsfjell from Asa's magic.

Then they would honor her. They would cheer for her. And Eirik would see how worthy she was, and then comfort and heal her.

The knife flashed down, releasing the blood and pain for the gods. She raised her arm and poured out her sacrifice onto the ground. It flowed from her hand like a stream of rubies.

Pretty rubies falling down.

* * *

“Jarl Magnus, your cousin has been hurt.” Birgitta came into his sleeping chamber, out of breath. “She's with the healer now.”

Magnus glanced at Leif as they stood. They had just returned from having the rune stone Eirik had carved for their father erected in the sacred grove. Now they'd been discussing the trade routes for the spring, but that would have to wait. They walked into the common room where Estrid sat whimpering at a table. Ingeborg probed her bloodied hand while people gathered to watch and find out what had happened. They cleared the way for Leif and him.