Mistress of the Wind (2 page)

Astrid nodded. Looked at the forest again.

She was angry with herself.

It wasn’t even as if she’d seen anything. It had just been a feeling.

“Are you still here, Astrid?”

Her father’s shout made her jerk, made her body tense for a blow. Before her father got round to it, she grabbed the basket from Freja.

“I’m going.”

She headed for the forest, determined there would be no falter in her stride. In defiance of her father and whatever waited for her within.

Never let them see the fear.

Even if it meant going straight into the jaws of unseen danger.

As she stepped through the first line of trees, she looked back and saw the flicker of light as Freja opened the door and went in, saw the glimmer from a gap in the shutters at the window. She could just make out the smudged outline of her father finishing up her work.

If she didn’t hurry, she’d have to feel her way back in the pitch dark.

She knew the best places to look for mushrooms, and with the rain they’d had recently, there was sure to be a good crop. This didn’t need to take long.

So hurry.

Within minutes she found a tree whose lower trunk was covered in her mother’s favorite mushroom. Dark brown skin on the top, the underbelly tender and white, almost luminous. Her hands shook as she pulled them off the bark and threw them into the basket.

Calm down, calm down, there is nothing here.

She stood, straightening her shoulders. Lifted her head high. She forced herself to walk slowly back down the path despite her inclination to run.

She couldn’t give in to this irrational fear. The forest was her back garden. She needed to come here often and she couldn’t let anything scare her away.

The icy grip in her gut lessened as she neared the tree-line. The only sounds around her were the familiar swish of the trees and the rustle of small animals, the crunch of dead pine needles under her feet.

The light was almost gone, and she could just see the path in front of her. She kept her eyes on it, watching where she stepped, no longer looking for mushrooms.

An imprint in the soil of the path caught her eye and she frowned. She crouched down to look, sure she must be mistaken.

If only she had a light to see properly.

The ground was soft, claylike with the rains. Perfect for recording footprints.

She placed her hand down, fingers spread wide, and they did not cover the impression on the path by a quarter. Something big had been here.

It had been standing just here, looking out at her hoeing the fields.

She’d say it was a bear print, but if so, it was like no bear she’d ever seen. A giant bear.

There was a rustle in the trees behind her, and a sudden flurry of wind in the branches, whispering
run, run, run
. Astrid’s heart stopped in her chest.

She grabbed up her basket and took a first, flying step.

“Stop.”

She froze, and as she stood motionless, she frantically tried to work out if it was magic or fear that held her in place.

“Do not look around yet,” the voice said from behind her. “I would talk with you first, before you see me.”

Could
she turn around? Astrid thought not. Tried it.

“I cannot turn my head, as you well know, so why ask me not to?” Fear sparked a fury within her at being so obviously at his mercy. She could hear herself panting like a rabbit caught in a snare.

When he spoke again, he sounded bemused. “I do not wish you to turn around, so I have made sure you cannot.”

“How are you keeping me frozen like this?” Even as she asked, Astrid realized how stupid the question was. There could only be one way.

“I have cast a spell upon you.”

“What are you?”

“I would leave that to later.”

But she knew, didn’t she? Unless two creatures had been watching from the path since the rains of yesterday.

“Were you watching me today?” She was sure of it, but would he admit it?

“You know I was. You ran from my gaze. Why was that, beauty?”

“I ran because I was afraid. I could feel your eyes on my very soul, and I did not trust you.” As she said it, she knew it was true.

“There is no need to fear me.” He spoke softly.

“How can I not?”

He was silent for a long moment.

“Very well, I will release you, but do not turn around. I would like to talk to you more before you see me.”

“You have my word.” She had no intention of turning around. None whatsoever.

“Then you are released.”

She felt as if she’d been pulled out of deep water. That she was back in the free-flowing air. She swung her arm to test whether it was so.

“Keep your word,” he said, his voice deepening.

“I never break my word,” Astrid answered, then ran as fast as she could down the path.

She didn’t look back.

Chapter Three

“W
hat story should we have?” Bets asked, moving over as Astrid sat down beside her at the hearth, the kitchen at last neat and clean.

“We could have one about a giant bear,” Eric smirked. Astrid saw he was carving the image of a bear into the small piece of hardwood in his hands. “Perhaps you were visited by a Jotun today, Astrid, a bear from the land of trolls and giants.”

“Do not joke about these things,” their mother said sharply, lifting her eyes from her sewing. “I met a troll once, deep in the forest. It was hideous.”

Astrid twisted her head to look at her mother in surprise. She had never heard this story before.

“When was this? What happened, Mother?”

Her mother slid a furtive glance at her father, and then stiffened her spine.

“You were with me, Astrid, but you won’t remember it, you were too little. The troll had killed an old hag, and there was a young boy, the hag’s grandson, perhaps, and—”

“Gerda.” Father looked up from his own carving.

“I saw what I saw. And even you say the weather has been colder since that day,” Mother said defensively.

“Gerda.” Father’s voice was heavy with warning, his eyes narrow, and her mother closed her mouth in a thin line.

For an uncomfortable beat no one spoke and the only sound was the rain, smacking against the wooden shutters, and the wind rattling them, trying to get in. It kept Astrid constantly on edge.

“I believe Astrid saw bear tracks. Bears are everywhere now, getting in their last feed before winter sets in.” Tomas spoke mildly, as always coming to her defense. “Some of them can be huge.”

There was a moment of silence, and Astrid did not dare look at Tomas. Sometimes just the exchange of a look between them could set Father off.

“Bah.” Father shifted in his pride of place, right in front of the fire, his mood darkened by her mother’s disobedience, but not too much. Astrid relaxed muscles she hadn’t realized she’d tensed.

“Fine, a bear, but do you have to always exaggerate, Astrid? Does it have to be a giant bear? A talking bear who casts spells?” Father’s tone dared Mother to contradict him. Dared her to remind them again there were such things as giant bears, and trolls, and strange magical creatures in the world.

He knew they were just a turn in the path away—hadn’t Astrid seen him paint Thor’s hammer over the barn door himself, to shield their home from such things?

“It’s just like when you were younger, those stories you used to tell us about the wind talking to you.”

“It’s what I saw and heard.” She didn’t push it any further. What did it matter anyway? The tracks would be gone by morning in this weather, and it was only her word that the conversation she’d had in the woods took place.

“The mushrooms were good.” Mother tried to smile.

Astrid could see the fatigue on her face, the way she let her head rest on the high chair back, closing her eyes for a moment. Her pale beauty was scrubbed away, almost to nothing. Her hair was once golden as Astrid’s, but now, it was a dull mix of grey and yellow. Her eyes were a shade lighter than they had been, as if faded by too many tears. Too many years of living too close to the edge of survival.

A terrible pit gaped open inside Astrid, and she fought the helplessness that rose up every time she saw her mother this close to despair.

Fought the logic that said this would always be her life. That one day she would be the mother in the chair, sick with worry over how they would get through the winter.

“Thank you, Mother.”

“Took her long enough to get them,” her father muttered, unable to let go of his anger at her.

She bent to her needlework and kept her mouth closed. Fighting with her father again would not make her mother’s life any easier.

Instead, she turned to Bets and Freja, sitting beside her on the mat near Mother’s chair, darning. “How was market—”

The blow against the shutters silenced her. Silenced all of them.

Eric stood, his eyes never leaving the window.

The bang came again, making the shutter hinges screech in protest, making Astrid jump and Bets scream.

“Who is there?” Father’s voice sounded too loud. Afraid.

Bang. The knock sounded again.

“Three times,” her mother murmured, and Astrid felt a chill in her heart.

Her father went to the door, hesitated a moment, and lifted his hand to the lock. Eric joined him, exchanging a look with Tomas as he crossed the room.

Tomas reached for the ax leaning against the fireplace, hefted it in his hand. Then he went to stand between Astrid, and her sisters and mother, and the door.

Her father wrenched the door open, and he and Eric stepped into the driving rain. As they were swallowed by the darkness, the wind took the door and slammed it shut behind them, as if protecting Astrid from whatever stood outside.

She could feel the eyes again.

She should have known running from him wouldn’t make him go away. Whoever the mysterious watcher was, he wasn’t skulking in the woods anymore.

* * *

There was no way to make himself smaller, so Bjorn bowed as well and as low as his inconvenient shape allowed.

“Good evening to you, sirs.” The wind shrieked louder, ruffling his white fur and trying to unbalance him, taunting him with his words. It was not a good evening.

Her father stared at him, mouth open, eyes so filled with terror he looked ready to faint. The brother was calmer, braver, but his face was white, all the same.

“I apologize for my poor timing, and for disturbing you, sir, but I come to ask for your daughter.” He kept his eyes on the father. The decision-maker.

The man seemed incapable of speech.

“Your daughter. I wish to take her with me, to my home. I promise to take care of her, and that she will want for nothing.”

“Which daughter?” The son’s voice quavered, but his eyes held Bjorn’s steadily.

“The one I spied today, working the fields. The one I spoke to in the wood earlier.”

“My youngest. Astrid.” The father found his voice at last.

Ah. Of course that was her name. The fair and beautiful one. “Yes. Astrid.” He savored saying it.

“Why do you want her?” The brother’s suspicion made him forget his fear for a moment.

Bjorn should have anticipated the question, and now that he was faced with it, he considered answering it truthfully. But it would only be a half-truth, because he was bound by the deal of secrecy he’d struck with Norga, and it may be dangerous for them to know too much.

“I find myself in need of a companion.” His words were glib, and never before had he lied so blatantly. It felt like a betrayal of her, of her worth. “She caught my eye, and I would have her.”

“Have her?” There was no mistaking the suggestion the brother was making. And crude though he was being, he had the right of it. Bjorn hesitated, but they would not believe him if he said he did not want her in that way, and he was afraid they would imagine worse things.

“Yes. Have her.”

“You would marry her?” The father frowned in confusion.

“Alas, I cannot. Perhaps one day . . .” He thought of the circumstances which would free him to marry her. It would mean he’d have won. He’d have beaten Norga for good and there would be no wedding between him and Norga’s daughter. “When my enchantment is over.”

“Why would I give you my daughter, then? If you don’t intend to make a respectable woman of her.”

Was that a considering look he’d seen in the woodsman’s eyes? A glint of greed? A look passed between father and son, and Bjorn felt a stir of disgust. And he was as soiled at they were, horse-trading a woman’s innocence.

It could not be helped and he had no time to play coy. And enough gold to dazzle Astrid’s father.

“If you can persuade your daughter to come with me, I will make you wealthy beyond your wildest dreams.”