by Kit Caine
The blonde man sauntered forward--his steps full of easy grace. "Give me the stone, boy," he spoke barely above a whisper.
"I’ll give you my blade in your useless gut.” Ceadda lowered his stance, freeing the sword from the scabbard at his waist. He raised his weapon for defense.
The blonde man waved off the threat, and pursed thin lips. "And what do we have here?" he said, peeking around Ceadda to Wolfric. "Seems to me, you monks have more fun than you like to let on."
His men howled like a pack of wolves behind him. These were the fabled Northmen. They truly were beasts, wild and hardened.
"Give us the stone and we’ll let your lover go."
Lover? Flames devoured her face. “I’m not his lover."
All eyes turned toward her. She should really bite off her tongue to stay quiet for once.
Her outburst brought more cackles. "You can't do anything with the stone anyway, boy. Give it to me, and I may let you join my men. I can show you what it really means to wield that weapon.” He edged even closer as Ceadda retreated a few steps.
"You think I believe you? I saw what you did. That village you slaughtered...all for this." Ceadda hefted the stone.
Wolfric didn't understand what was happening, but she did understand danger when it stared her in the face. And this man would have what he wanted. The blood shed to get it would only sweeten the prospect.
She lunged, snatching the stone from Ceadda. As soon as her fingers touched the runes her body vibrated, bones rattling, veins expanding as light and energy funneled into her pores.
She tried to let go but the stone stuck to her skin, feeding from her. Then it dropped, the tablet cracking in half.
"No!" The blonde man sprang forward, broad sword aimed straight for her chest. She held up her own puny weapon and white light arced off the blade. Lightning cracked through the air. Several bolts struck the circling men; each one branching from the main bolt coursing from her blade.
Ceadda raced with the light emitting from her, attacking the remaining men. He plunged his sword through torso after torso before the Northmen could recover and leap to defense.
"You’re hardly even a man. Why would he--? The blonde man rose to his feet, smoke billowing off his shoulders. A few of the other men still twitched on the ground, but he remained unscathed. “How could you have called him?"
Called him? She didn't know what the hell he was talking about or what had just happened. Every inch of her skin buzzed with energy, her brain pulsed in time with her racing heart.
The blonde man walked forward and grabbed the stone from the ground. He scanned both pieces and wrapped them in cloth as if they were his own newborn babe. His cold white-blue eyes turned back to her. Frost tipped his pale lashes.
Shivering, Wolfric lifted her weapon, took a deep breath and willed the lightning again. Slivers of heat raced along her veins.
But nothing.
No energy tingling along the inside her skull. She flicked her blade, hoping some residual rays would leap off and fry him.
Again, nothing.
The blonde man laughed, the hearty peals rang through the air. “Tapped yourself out that quick?" His head cocked to one side, studying her as if truly seeing her for the first time.
Behind him, a man wrestled Ceadda to the ground. He had cut through several of the Northmen. Her gaze flicked between Ceadda and their leader.
"We don't want to hurt the boy, but we will if you make us." His lips bent in a cruel smile and she knew that every word he uttered was a lie.
But she was a liar too.
Her head pounded, incoherent whispers racing across her brain. She couldn't follow the rhyme long enough to understand the words.
Was it a song?
The blonde man squinted at her, brows merging. "What is it?"
"My head," she answered without thinking. “It's on fire.”
He stepped closer, weapon falling to his side. "Do you hear anything?"
She glanced up at his face again, his expression a strange mixture of confusion and awe. Whatever emotion danced behind those pale eyes didn't bode well for her.
"I’m waiting," he urged.
Now that the pain subsided, she could tell that it was indeed a voice.
"Tyr!" it hissed.
"Tyr?" she repeated the strange word.
Eyes wide, the blonde man stumbled back several steps, the cold smile sliding off his face. "It is you. You hanged bastard." He raked over her frame, seizing her up. "This is the vessel that you've chosen? After all these centuries—a small boy." He laughed in her face. His breath carrying notes of lilac and woodsmoke.
Wolfric's nose wrinkled at the sweet scent.
"Well, now it truly seems you have no choice but to come with us." He looked over his shoulder. "Get him up,” he pointed at Ceadda and then Wolfric, “and bind this one."
His men stomped toward her without word.
She tried to summon the lightning again but her head filled with noise. Was it a song? No. But there was a definite lyrical meter. A poem perhaps?
"Snap them in two, or they will kill you,” the voice sing-songed. But she couldn't make sense of it. A man moved to her side, hand stretched toward her but stopped before making contact. “Try anything funny and we kill your boyfriend."
"He's not my--" The man shoved her on her knees before she could finish the sentence.
"I'll search him." The blonde man knelt in front of her, scanning her face. “You boys are too soft in this part of the world. In the north we breed real men.” His hand slid around her narrow waist, checking for hidden weapons. As his fingers hiked upward her heart kicked up a notch. The secret she spent her life hiding was seconds from coming undone.
When his palms ran over the bindings across her chest his hands fell away and a wisened smile stretched across his lips. "Every time I look at you, you surprise me. And I am not one easily moved. I’ll keep your secret," he whispered with breath like ice against her ear, before pushing himself up to his full height. "Bring them to the ship. We sail out tonight.”
She looked across the room and met amethyst eyes. Ceadda mouthed something to her but before she could decipher the silent words a ringed hand came up to meet her face and night cracked across her brain.
Chapter 7
Back and forth. Back and forth.
Wolfric swayed with the comforting motion. She remembered this rhythm from her life as Imogen, when her mother would spin tales of wolves blowing down castles and devouring princesses. She needed this motion to be real, for her old room to materialize when she opened her eyes and be safe in her mother's arms.
But she knew that wouldn't happen. Salted air beat against her bruised cheeks. She opened her eyes to night and the spray of winter sea on her face.
How long had she been out? With throbbing eyes, she scanned the ocean. The monks had taught them to tell direction using the stars but her head pounded too much to recognize up from down. Vertigo split the world and her stomach along with it as sour bile came up to greet her mouth.
"Hurry up and get the kid before we’re swimming in a river of filth," a man shouted at her back. He sounded far away, but it was difficult to distinguish with the wind howling in her ear.
Someone lifted her under the arms, her chin peeking over a barrel. She emptied the little food in her belly into churning waters before being edged back down.
When the rolling in her stomach abated, she focused on her surroundings. They were definitely on a boat, but this wasn’t the usual vessel the Northmen used for raiding. This ship was modeled after the Frank’s war machines, crafted for harsh, long travel. Barbarians stalked the deck in heavy boots, tending sails, most scurrying below to escape the harsh winds. Every once in a while a woman in leather armor paced the length of the deck, as if on lookout.
The voice in her head chattered without end, she wondered if it had ever stopped. More lyrics and half-riddles that she didn't have the mind to decipher.
Someone nudged her
side and she looked over into deep-sky eyes. Blood trickled down the corner of Ceadda’s too pale lips. The barbarians must have beaten him after knocking her out. "Are you okay?" he rasped, and her stupid heart fluttered in response.
His face was a mess of marbled bruising. He should save that concern for himself. She started to reach for him, but the rope corded around her wrists stopped her. The pair were wedged in a makeshift corner formed by a tall stack of crates. Wolfric sagged against one, her body deflating. All of this was her fault. If she hadn't tried to give the stone to the Northman then maybe they could have escaped. She messed everything up
Again.
"Yes,” she croaked. “I'm fine," Her throat too tight for more than a few words.
Ceadda searched her face with those eyes that would be her undoing. "What you did back there … with the light … do you think you could do it again?"
She felt inside herself for the lightning.
Nothing.
Not even a spark.
“No,” she breathed.
His shoulders sagged, the less swollen side of his face falling with disappointment. “It’s okay. We’ll figure something out.” He mustered a brave front, no doubt for her sake, but she knew the truth.
The Northmen would kill them.
His eyes fell to her lap at her exposed legs. She kicked at her robes to cover them, heart pounding. All her precious lies rising with the sea.
Ceadda watched her with a dejected expression. "I've known for a long time."
She stilled, even the voice inside her head shut up for a moment. “Known what?” she snapped.
No. Please. Not yet.
“Little Wolf.” His mouth curved in a weary smile. “Woe to those who are wise in their own eyes and clever in their own sight.”
“Isaiah, chapter five, verse twenty-one.” She tangled and untangled her fingers. It’s what they quoted to one another when the other was lying. "How long have you known?"
Half his face bent in a smile. "Remember when we were kids and I stole your teddy and that stray dog got a hold of it.”
She nodded, the faint perfume of summer honeysuckle tickling her nostrils with the memory. He’d stolen the only remaining piece of her previous life. Rage had coated her vision as she balled a small fist and struck him in the eye. The surrounding skin swelled and blackened from the impact.
"After you punched me in the face, I kicked you between the legs. You went down. It hurt, but not the way I expected. It didn’t take me long after that to piece it together. You never used the privy in front of me and when you dressed you made sure I left the room. And then there was the blood. Your menses...I guess."
Even with barbarians sailing to only God knew where, Ceadda talking about her menses made her want the world to split open and swallow them both. Heat crept up her cheeks that the soft patter of rain refused to cool.
"I've known for years,” he whispered.
She was too embarrassed to respond. And he never told anyone? All this time she hated herself for lying to him.
“This revelation is all very touching, but your troubles are only getting started, girly." She tried to shake off the voice but it was stitched to her brain. The rhymes had unraveled themselves into sentences she could finally comprehend.
"What’s wrong?" Worry creased Ceadda’s swollen features.
"When I touched the stone, more than just the lightning passed into me. There was something else."
"I am trying to save your life and you would rather make nice with your boyfriend."
“He isn't my boyfriend!" she hissed.
A few of the nearby men looked over their shoulders at her, but quickly went back to task, hefting lines and tying off sails.
Ceadda inched closer along the deck, his butt scooting against wet wood, face furrowed with deep lines. "What's going on with you?"
She didn't know the answer herself.
"You need to jump."
“Jump?" she echoed.
Ceadda pressed closer, “What?”
The voice sighed as if she were the one annoying him. “This is going to take an eon if you keep repeating everything I say."
Rain pelted her face as her head tilted toward the starless night. She didn't know where they were headed, but she did know one thing, she had to escape before they arrived. Droplets traced Ceadda’s cheek where her fingers ached to touch. "We need to jump,” she swallowed.
Amethyst eyes stared back at her as if she’d lost her mind. Maybe she had. But they had to try something. And the voice had helped her one time already. It was a long shot, but it was their only option.
Lightning cracked through black, igniting the heavens in electric hues.
"Do you feel that, girl?" the voice laughed. “That's your power calling. Claim it!"
The pores along her arms opened as small slivers of light drew in. He was right. She felt it. This was her power.
"Put the children below decks. I don’t want them dying of exposure before I’ve had a chance to extract that hanged bastard,” a voice shouted through the thickening rain.
"It’s now or never, girl. What’s it gonna be?” She noted the strained edge in his voice. He was just as afraid.
“Who are you?" she asked even though she felt she had known him all her life.
The voice groaned with frustration. "You have the most peculiar priorities. Your life hangs in the balance and this is what you ask."
"I am not moving until you tell me your name."
One of the Northmen jogged toward them. He would reach them in seconds.
"I have many names," the voice said.
"Give me one." She eyed the broad man edging near them. The ship rolled as the sea shifted, waves lifting them higher. The man stopped, crouching as the water calmed.
If this voice was the devil she had better know before she decided to trust him.
"The hanged one!” it said in a rush
"The hanged one,” she repeated aloud.
Ceadda's head snapped up. His eyes glowing with wonder and ignited with fear. "Odin?" he breathed.
Wolfric felt the voice smile, wicked and deep. "Yes!" it hissed. "I am the All-Father."
She struggled to her feet, checking over her shoulder at the man struggling for footing as the ship tossed on the violent sea. "We have to go."
Ceadda’s head swung to either side of the deck, searching for a viable exit. "Go where?"
Wolfric cocked her head toward the railing.
The man running toward them slipped as the boat pitched violently to one side and slid to the other end.
This was their chance. Wolfric pressed into a sprint toward the edge. Ceadda right on her heels.
"We’re going to drown!" he shouted against the wind.
He was right.
Icy rain pelted her face as she ran toward the rail. They would drown but the drowning would be better than whatever awaited them with the Northmen. If the voice in her head could be trusted, then they would make it out of this alive. Or the Hanged Man was a big fat liar and they would die.
The boat rocked again, snapping her back to the moment. Ceadda shoved her with a shoulder just as she started over the rail. "Wait," he said.
She stopped and faced him. Lightning flashing all around them, too close to be real. Ceadda pressed toward her, chest heaving, face nearly swollen shut. His eyes raked over her, as if to commit every line to memory before they died.
Water rolled down the sides of her face and through her lashes. But she didn’t care. She wanted to see him--needed to feel him.
He stepped forward, closed the distance and kissed her. She took her first and last breath as Imogen and returned his kiss. For one moment she was whole and all the lies fell away.
Im-O-Gen.
Im-O-Gen.
IM-O-GEN!
Was that the bells?
She pulled back, breaking their kiss. The crazed voice screamed her name. She looked over Ceadda's shoulder at the blonde man. Tyr formed a ball of ice and whi
te light in his palm, his ghostly eyes trained on her.
"Fucking humans! Jump now before he blasts both of you to pieces."
She didn't need to be told a second time. Nodding to Ceadda, they turned to the railing, knees bent and eyes on the sea.
As soon as her body lifted in the air a bolt split the sky and arced into her spine. She screamed without sound, body ablaze, mind shattered. The Hanged Man crept to the forefront of her mind. “Good,” he soothed as pain exploded behind her eyelids. “Take it in. Take all of it!”
As the world erupted in chaos and stars, she was night and every ray from distant suns. Her body plummeted toward dark waters, but she wasn’t afraid.
Bracing for impact, she sucked in a breath. Frigid waters devoured her like a good meal as she sank toward the seabed. Ceadda floated down beside her, his body struggling to break free of the restraints.
Bright lights burst above the surface, the intensity illuminating the ocean in flashes of neon. Several figures splashed into the water seconds later. Tension built in the base of her skull, her pores snapping shut. If she took one more breath, her body would ignite and the world would fall to pieces.
"Let it all go," the Hanged Man whispered sweet as nectar in her mind. She could hear his lips curving as he spoke the words.
The air compacted in her chest, she needed release. In a rush, she expelled it all.
Her breath.
The lies.
The light.
Lightning arced through the water from both her hands, materializing into silver gates. Heavy vines snaked around metal framing and the hinges sang as they opened in welcome.
“Valhalla,” the voice whispered across her skull like a prayer. The Hanged Man stretched inside her head as if to escape. Every part of him edged toward the gates.
Before she could decide to enter or swim up for air, the world rushed by in a flurry of electricity and bubbles. Her body propelled toward the vined opening.
All her burdens fell away--her body weightless as she whisked into light.
Pieces of terry cloth flew by her head. Each strip disintegrating under the pressure of lies come undone. The world faded white. Gates slammed shut. When next she opened her eyes, all she could see was amethyst.
