Lord of the Runes (6 page)

He stared up and his legs almost buckled. Yggdrasil, the World Tree.

Stepping forward, he put his hand on the trunk. It was warm, pulsing with life. Oval pieces of the bark peeled away and he caught them in his hands as they fell. They became his set of runes, the ones he still had in another reality.

His mother had carved his and Silvi's sets from the same branch of the sacred oak in the grove at home. Would the runes still have a connection because of it?

He closed his hands over them, bringing them to his chest. Bending his head, he called, envisioning his thoughts winding through the darkness, over the fjords and valleys. Southward toward home.

Warmth opened out within him. And love. Silvi. Had she heard him through their runes? When they were young, they played such games. Now it was no longer a game.

Joy touched him and he smiled. With a thought, he cast the rune Gyfu into the leaves of the World Tree, willing it to show her that he'd accepted the gift of love she had sent.

Yggdrasil faded and once again, he knelt on the bed. The runes he had dropped lay before him, each turned faceup, different from before. How was that possible? A chill stiffened his spine. The gods walked in this time, bringing all possibilities to bear, with powers that could crush the weak.

He was not weak.

Perhaps Odin had guided him here to this place. For what purpose? For allies? Tyr still shone in his mind, the warrior's force, harnessed by courage, bringing about destiny. He would need Tyr's strength to help him in the months to come.

But it also brought love. That, however, was a weakness. Anything that weakened him, no matter how pleasant, must be cast aside. And yet he had rejected love, even of his family, after Sela died, and what had it gained him? Lost years, and a lost legacy. His family had forgiven him, and it would appear the power of the runes had, as well.

If only he could forgive himself.

A
sa studied the carving in the corner of the weaving room where she worked each winter. This dragon's head was the largest she'd ever done, standing as tall as she did. It could go on the bow of only a jarl's or king's longship.

Few carvers made dragon heads for longships. Most made serpents and flat spirals. But the dragon had always spoken to her, so she made one each year.

Each spring, Magnus took her dragon to Kaupang to sell. Before Magnus could even tie the ship to the dock, men swarmed on board, fighting over it.

This piece was her finest and would go to the great market at Hedeby in Denmark. It would fetch far more there than at the smaller places. Her reputation had grown with her talent so that now other jarls asked for her work, and it was said even the Danish king himself had expressed interest in one of her dragons.

She smiled, running her hand over the scales at the back of the head. Its mouth was open in an eternal snarl and the eyes were large and so well wrought, they seemed to follow her as she walked around it. Interlaced creatures ran down the front of the throat, but the sides of the neck were smooth.

She wanted to carve the runes of protection there, for that was what made her dragons so unique and valuable. But their old rune master had died, and she had no one now to guide her. A small deviation in the symbols could spell disaster. They varied each year, depending on what the master had seen, so she couldn't just repeat the same ones. And each must be colored a certain way.

Of course, there was one among them now who said he understood the runes. But how could she bear being near him while he guided her?

In the days since Eirik had come, she'd had nothing to do with him. Even though she hadn't looked at him, she'd felt his eyes on her. The thought of being close to him brought strange feelings to her, like melting inside, a weakness in her legs. It must be fear. He might have killed his wife, and she'd seen enough violence from men like that.

Who could say if he would show her the correct runes? How could she know if he possessed such a talent or not? It was said that a rune master had written the wrong staves over the bed of an ill woman and she'd nearly died. When a more competent master had seen them, he'd rewritten them and she'd recovered.

She couldn't take that chance. Not only could she not risk her reputation, but she wouldn't endanger other lives. The men who sailed those ships made long, treacherous voyages, and they needed all the good fortune they could have. They believed her dragons brought them that luck and protection, and she couldn't fail them.

Using a piece of dried sharkskin, she smoothed the edge of a tooth. She'd already used an iron file to shape it. Now she only needed to sand it further so it would hold the paint she'd finish it with.

“Magnificent.”

She jumped, her hand to her throat, nearly knocking over the carving. Eirik steadied it and rested his hand on the top of the head as he smiled.

“It seems I have a talent for startling you.”

“I was lost in the carving and didn't hear you.” She tried to calm herself. They were alone in the weaving room, but the door to the common room was only a few steps away. And she always had her carving tools on the table beside her.

“A ship's prow piece.” He studied it, frowning a bit. “I've never seen another like it. And you did this?”

She swallowed and nodded. “One winter, when I was a girl, my father tired of my running about through the rooms, bored. He gave me a small knife and a piece of wood, and showed me how to make toys for myself. He often carved on long sea voyages, as many men do. In time, I became better at it than he was. He would take my work to the markets and it sold quite well. Eventually, I tried to make these prow heads.”

She hid a smile behind her hand. “The first ones weren't very good, I'm afraid. But at least they provided good fuel for our winter fires. Eventually, I became more skilled, and Magnus risked taking one to the market. After that, I've done one each year and they help bring in much gold.”

“I can see why. Any shipbuilder would be honored to set this on the bow.”

His voice was low as he ran his hand over the dragon. His fingers were long and sensitive. They caressed the wood and she grew breathless as she watched them.

“This is maple?”

“Yes.” She tore her gaze away from his hands. “It's the only wood hard enough to take the detail I'll be adding soon.”

He regarded her, his eyes narrowing a bit. “It is unusual for a woman to do such work.”

“Unusual, perhaps. But not unknown. Magnus believes we all must give of our talents for the good of the village. The dragon is just as beautiful no matter who carves it.”

He nodded as he walked around it again, his arms crossed. Perhaps he disapproved. But he didn't have to worry about how to feed the village in the long winter and how Magnus would keep his warriors. Men stayed with the jarl who had the most to offer—food, drink, gold. To keep them satisfied took a great deal of wealth, and her dragons brought them that.

It was also why she would never marry, even if she could bring herself to do so. How could she take this source of revenue from her people? Even with as many artisans, smiths, weavers, and farmers as lived here, her work made the difference between mere subsistence and living in comfort and safety. Her bride price, no matter how high it was, wouldn't make up for it.

“Your father seemed a fine man,” he said. “But your brother is jarl now. What happened?”

It had been seven years, so she should be able to speak of it. Still, the words stuck in her throat and a familiar ache started in her chest. “He was killed while returning from a trading trip in the East. He and Leif and his men were portaging the ship past the Aifur rapids in the Dnieper river.”

“I know of them. It's unusual for our people to travel there. Generally the Swedes do so, while we head to the isles in the west and also south to Francia.”

“Long ago, he'd heard from a trader in Birka of the riches to be had. He'd made one successful trip years earlier and thought to repeat it, but he wasn't so lucky.”

“I've been attacked there myself. The robbers hide, waiting for travelers to pass, knowing they are vulnerable then, with their ships out of the water.”

She nodded. “That's what I've learned since. Leif survived to carry the tale back to us, thank the gods. He could have been lost as well, and we never would have known what happened to any of them. Father died fighting, with a sword in his hand, so we had some comfort in that.” It had been the only comfort. Magnus had been so young to take over, just ten-and-nine winters. But he had risen to the task and they had prospered.

Eirik continued to study the carving. “The sides of the neck are bare. What will you do there?”

She looked away from him. If she were to put the runes there, could she ask him to help her? Work with him? Trust him? She could almost see the symbols writhing in the wood—a part of it, and her, forever. And his hand would guide hers, holding and touching it. His essence would join with hers on the dragon and would remain that way as long as it roamed the seas.

Her stomach dropped. She stroked the carving over its left eye with her thumb. “I haven't yet decided what to put there.”

His voice was low as he regarded her work. “Perhaps you need only listen to it and it will tell you. Dragons are that way. They know what they want and they take it. It's best to give in to their wishes.”

“So I've heard.” She gave him a hard glance. But he only met her eyes with his and they sparkled, as Leif's did when he teased her.

With a slight smile, he inclined his head to her and left. Sitting on her bench, she took a long, calming breath. She would need to wait now to work, for her hands shook with her heartbeat.

Estrid walked into the room. “Have you seen Eirik? Birgitta said she saw him come in here.”

“He was here, but he left.”

“Ah.” She nodded.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing.” She gave Asa a sideways glance.

Asa crossed her arms and waited. Her cousin wouldn't be able to resist a verbal jab, and sometimes they had their uses. Estrid had ways of finding out things no one else knew.

“It's just that he looks at you—Oh, it doesn't matter.” She picked up one of the knives Asa used to carve with and watched the light play on the blade.

Asa held her hands together so Estrid wouldn't see them tremble. “And just how does he look at me?”

Estrid shrugged. “With lust in his eyes. But then, he's a man. They all look at women that way. You know what they want. Eirik has already tried to seduce some of the girls here. I've heard from them that he's insatiable. He's very forceful, they say, though so many of them like that in a lover.” A sly grin slid across her lips. “I just thought to warn you, Asa. We wouldn't want that part of him to be frozen if he chose to take you. What a waste that would be.” She set down the knife. “It is as I've always said, that all you have to do is look at a man and talk to him, and he'll want to have you. I wouldn't encourage Eirik any longer if I were you. You know what will happen.”

Asa forced a smile, never letting Estrid see how her words affected her. Fisting her shaking hands, she hid them in her skirt.

Estrid left as the other women came in to begin their day of weaving and ribbon making. Asa didn't return their greetings.

Eirik had only appeared to be teasing her, but now she couldn't be certain. What did she know of the ways of men? She'd made a horrible mistake once, long ago, and nothing had been the same after that. What if she misjudged again and Estrid was right? She needed to stay away from him, and not speak to him any longer, no matter what help he might give her. The price could be too high.

She couldn't work on the dragon that morning. Being so close to Eirik had unsettled her and she wouldn't be able to concentrate. It'd be better not to risk a slip of the hand with the knife and the destruction of the carving.

She covered it with a large woven cloth as Eirik's words skittered across her mind.
They know what they want and they take it. It's best to give in to their wishes.

How had he meant it? As lighthearted teasing such as her brothers would give her? Or was it a warning, as
he
had threatened so long ago?

* * *

The casting made sense. Eirik closed his eyes and let the meaning of the runes flow through his mind, sensing what they wanted him to know.

Each evening, sitting in a corner of the common room, he had read for several people. The sessions left him drained but exultant, for he hadn't lost touch with the runes. True, they had burst into his mind when he'd cast them for himself, but that was one thing. He couldn't be certain they would respond to the queries of others.

But they did. Magnus sat across from him, his arms folded over his wide chest, waiting. Eirik tried not to smile. The runes were very clear, yet still left a great deal unanswered. Perhaps it would be interesting to do a deeper casting for the jarl one day.

“The influences moving around you now are those that will lead to new attitudes. The rune in this position is Ehwaz, and combined with Birkano, as it is, it means traveling to a family occasion, most likely a wedding. Do you have any relatives a distance away?”

Magnus shook his head. “Not that we would visit easily. Our mother and Estrid's mother are across the seas in their homeland of Leinster in Ireland, but we have no contact with them. And if they've remarried, we wouldn't know.”

He'd have to ask about this after the casting. “In the position of obstacles, you have Berkano, the rune of life, birth, and the home. In this place, it shows a vulnerability in the home, a darkness that must be cleared.”

Magnus said nothing, but his eyes narrowed.

“In the position of that which is favorable, Gyfu appears. It indicates a gift, but mostly a union or partnership. Have you been thinking of this? A marriage? A venture with another trader?”

“No. We're so isolated here, it would be difficult. And I haven't had the time to search for an advantageous marriage.”

He glanced up at the jarl. “This rune carries the meaning of love. And the gift can be from a man to a woman, even in the form of a child.”

Magnus snorted. “I'm most careful in my pursuits. I'll not have any baseborn child in my family. As for love, the skalds can speak poems about such things. I have no use for it. When I marry, it will be for my own advantage and the allies I can make through it.”

Very wise, as he knew all too well. Eirik inclined his head and touched the next rune. “Here we have Othala reversed.” He hesitated. “May I speak freely?”

“Of course. What would be the point otherwise?”

“Indeed. In the position of the short term, you will refuse to see a situation clearly. It will cause pain to another.”

Magnus paled for a moment. Then his eyes hardened and his lips pressed into a thin line. He stared at the rune, then gathered himself and took a deep breath. “Can that be in the past?”

Eirik shook his head. “Sometimes the past, present, and the future can be as one. But this is a very specific position. It will happen soon, perhaps even now.”

“What will be the outcome?”

“In the long term, we have Kenaz. It speaks of renewed clarity, so in spite of Othala reversed, you'll resolve the situation through strength. It also tells of a new relationship.” He hesitated.

“And?”

“With Birkano, it repeats the aspect of a child.”