Soul Riders (Book 1)

by Helena Dahlgren

  Sometimes life forces you to make a decision that will change the future forever.

  It is true that you choose your own path in life. You shape your own destiny. But sometimes, fate chooses for you.

  Legend speaks of a girl on horseback who will save the world. Her light and wisdom will dispel the darkness and chaos. She will put everything right.

  Are you the one?

  Prologue

  Once upon a time, in the Cold Sea, lay a lifeless isle where darkness reigned.

  One day, a star fell from the sky, and out of its strong, flaming glow came a girl on horseback. As she rode slowly across the sea, her horse’s hooves tamed the wild waves beneath her. In her right hand, she held the light of life; in her left, a golden harp. The music of the harp awoke the surrounding nature. She lay the light down on the island, and life and hope poured out of the cold nothingness. Warmth and brightness spread over everything that had been dead. Everything was new. But the girl’s spirit could not endure. She dissolved into nature, into the winds, the rain, the teardrops of the dew. Some claim she remains there to this day. Listen, and you might hear her in the wondrously clear song of the birds, or feel her in the soft caress of the breeze on a warm summer’s day.

  As the island called Jorvik came into being, good and evil entered the world.

  Light cannot exist without darkness, as darkness cannot exist without light. The struggle between good and evil has been secretly raging for thousands of years. A great darkness hides in the depths of the ocean, biding its time, waiting just a little while longer.

  Jorvik, located somewhere between Norway, Iceland, and the British Isles, of which it was once part, is a nexus of worlds. Horse people come to experience the island’s equestrian culture and abundance of horse breeds, and nature lovers seek it out to admire Jorvik’s natural beauty. However, it’s also sought out by companies that want to ruthlessly exploit its precious natural resources. A small number of these visitors hold Jorvik’s fate in their hands, but most do not. Many who have been to Jorvik before seem to have forgotten that the island exists, the same way a dream fades into nothing when you wake up in the morning. If you hear about Jorvik, the name will soon escape you again. It’s as though the island is a myth. “That island again . . . Somewhere in Scandinavia, right? Iceland?”

  Dark days await beautiful Jorvik. Evil is poised to be unleashed. Should that come to pass, everything will be lost. Yet while the raging sea seethes and hisses, hope lives, for it is taking root in the secret order of druids who are dedicated to standing against this doomsday scenario. The foremost champions of these druids are called the Soul Riders.

  The Soul Riders are chosen girls who share a special bond with their horses. Through that bond, they acquire special powers to help them in their fight against evil. It has been many years since the Soul Riders defended Jorvik, but there are rumors that the time has come for a new sisterhood to form.

  1

  “Are we there yet?”

  Lisa was fifteen years old, but she felt like a squirmy, impatient five-year-old as she asked the same question for the tenth time since they’d gotten in the van. How long had they been waiting, ten minutes?

  Her dad just smiled and lightly drummed his fingers against the steering wheel.

  “They should be letting us off the ferry any minute now, Isa,” he replied. “They already started unloading.”

  “It feels like we’ve been sitting here for hours,” Lisa muttered. She couldn’t help but flinch at the sound of her old nickname. It made her think of a determined little girl with disheveled red hair. Plump cheeks and a T-shirt with a horse motif. Always horses. Always on her way somewhere, following her mom or dad or the mild-mannered family cat who used to sleep curled up in a ball by her feet. Isa is the photo album version of Lisa Peterson, she thought to herself. The past. History. She doesn’t have much in common with the here-and-now Lisa who was sitting in the passenger seat of an old van, waiting for her new life to start.

  Again.

  She noticed that a whiny tone had crept into her voice. No wonder, considering the fact that she’d spent all night twisting and turning in the uncomfortable bunk bed pressed against the wall of their small cabin. Her dad, Carl, had insisted that they “splurge” on the cabin for their overnight journey on the ferry. He had fallen asleep instantly. She had lain awake, feeling the waves billowing beneath her, trying to block out the sound of her dad’s snoring.

  She barely slept a wink. She could feel it in her head, which was heavy and foggy. Everything was blurred, somewhere between wakefulness and sleeping, as though all she’d have to do to touch the previous night’s hazy dreams was reach out her hand.

  Clattering hooves. A canter that turned into a frenzied gallop. A terrified scream—hers? And then sheer silence. Darkness. She blinked hard, trying to push the nightmarish images away.

  Her dad smiled and reached over to stroke her hair.

  “Just wait until we get off this ferry. I know I’ve shown you pictures of the island, but you’ll get a better idea of what it’s like when you see it for yourself. It’s unlike any place you’ve ever seen.”

  Lisa reluctantly returned his smile and wondered how her dad could be so excited about anything at six o’clock in the morning.

  She had, of course, seen pictures of Jorvik. High mountains, gently rolling hills, and a rich shade of green that almost looked photoshopped. The vast blue sea around the island seemed endless. It brought to mind the colorful fairy tales she’d read when she was little. The only thing missing was the rainbow.

  She tried to imagine herself in a place like that, one of those fantastical lands. Regular old Lisa in her worn-out jeans and an old hoodie, with her headphones around her neck or resting snugly over her tousled, bright-red hair. But the image wouldn’t come.

  They were in a rented van full of moving boxes, waiting for the man on the PA system, having just cheerfully welcomed them to Jorvik, to tell them it was okay to start their engines. Lisa pulled her headphones over her ears and disappeared into one of her favorite songs. That usually helped, but not this morning.

  After a second, she gave up, pulling her headphones off again and staring straight ahead at the caravan of cars and trucks that were slowly starting to move down the ramp.

  They’d been traveling for the better part of two days, first by van and then by ferry. And now they’d finally arrived in Jorvik. Their new home. Lisa’s dad had accepted a job on one of the island’s largest oil platforms and Lisa was due to start school on Monday. She didn’t quite know what to expect. What did this island, this Jorvik, which her dad hadn’t been able to stop talking about, really have to offer aside from a massive oil platform, picturesque surroundings, and lots of horses?

  There was a time when Lisa lived for horses, when the thought of living on an island like Jorvik, a place where horses seemed central to everything, would have been a dream come true. However, when Lisa was twelve, her mother was suddenly killed in a riding accident. Grief clawed at her like a ravenous wolf whenever she let herself think about it, so she tried her best not to.

  In the three years since the accident, she hadn’t so much as looked at a horse. All the posters, books, clothes, and films— anything that reminded her of that day—were put into boxes, taped up, and taken away. Her riding gear had been donated to charity. Lisa was never going to ride again. The mere thought of it was too painful.

  We have a girl here. She’s in shock but conscious, no visible injuries. A woman dead at the scene.

  The darkness, the pitch-black despair, could open up any time. Anywhere.

  Her dad turned on the radio and
an upbeat Madonna song from the 1980s filled the van. They both started singing along, but then looked at each other and exchanged bittersweet smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes. This was Lisa’s mom’s favorite song. They both knew this but didn’t say anything. There was no need. The pain echoed through the van, all the way to the back, where a framed photograph of her mom was wrapped carefully in a T-shirt and packed away in one of the boxes.

  A faded photograph in a box was all that was left. Lisa felt like she was never going to be able to accept her death.

  Sometimes she feared she might be starting to forget her mom. Those small, everyday details that she had the luxury of taking for granted for twelve years. Like all children do.

  She had noticed that the details of her mother had slowly started to fade from her mind. She felt lucky that she had music to help her remember. Two beats of this old Madonna song and her mom was right there, so clearly, dancing in the kitchen with a spatula in one hand and Lisa’s hand gripped tightly in the other, the sun streaming in through the windows.

  But as the song finished, another memory surfaced. Her mom riding ahead of Lisa, racing up a hill in Texas, just moments before the accident. Then how her shallow, gasping breaths filled the void next to Lisa’s heavy ones. The bottomless darkness became overwhelming as her breathing slowed. Her rapid, faint heartbeats were similar to a sick animal. Her cheek was still soft and warm against Lisa’s when the ambulance had arrived. The next time she saw her mother was in the hospital. By then, her cheek was cold. Waxy, like that of a doll.

  Lisa quickly blinked away her tears. She looked out the side window so her dad wouldn’t see.

  Don’t think about Mom.

  Don’t think about horses . . . .

  What should I think about?

  No, Lisa wasn’t exactly looking forward to moving to Jorvik. She knew no one, was no one. Starting from scratch. But she’d have to make it work, she thought to herself.

  It wasn’t like she hadn’t been the new girl before. Her dad’s jobs on various oil platforms had taken her from Texas to Norway to Alaska, back to Norway, and now to Jorvik. Always the new girl in class, never entirely at home. Never entirely part of the group.

  She was used to the struggle of learning everything all over again: the names of her classmates, all the unspoken codes and rules. Sometimes, Lisa felt homeless. Rootless.

  For a few years, horses had been her escape. Since the accident, music had taken their place. Lisa was always singing, even when she wasn’t aware of it.

  Maybe particularly in these moments. She loved music. All kinds of music, old and new. Granted, she preferred country and rock to her mom’s more pop-oriented tastes.

  Still, she couldn’t help singing along to the Madonna song. It helped her remember.

  She still had all her mom’s old CDs. They were in one of the boxes in the back of the van. The playlist she was just listening to was full of her mom’s favorite songs. What would she have thought of this move? What would she think about Jorvik?

  I thought I told you not to think about Mom.

  Lisa jumped when her dad suddenly honked angrily at the car in front of them.

  “Hey, move it along! We’re getting off now!” He pressed his hand down even harder on the horn. “I have to find somewhere that sells coffee,” he mumbled. He had only had time for one watery cup of coffee during their quick breakfast on board.

  “Um, Dad? I’m pretty sure he can’t hear you,” Lisa murmured.

  She was unable to hide her sulkiness, but something gentle and light had slipped into her voice, making her dad’s eyes well up when he thought she wasn’t looking.

  But Lisa noticed. She was, in fact, happy to be sitting there with her dad. They only had each other. It was the two of them, forever.

  Finally, it was their turn to roll off the ferry. They drove straight into a landscape that was like nothing Lisa had ever seen before. She couldn’t help gasping as she took in the dark, majestic firs blanketing the rolling green hills and the sides of the towering mountains.

  The landscape was somewhat similar to Norway’s, Lisa thought. However, it was even vaster and wilder, as if Jorvik’s colors had all been magnified by a Technicolor filter. Lisa began to wonder whether she had ever truly seen real colors before. It felt like she hadn’t. The sun was slowly rising, but the pale crescent of the moon was still visible among the deeply lavender sky.

  One star fell as an array of new ones seemed to twinkle to life. Lisa frowned. That was odd; wasn’t the sun just about to come up?

  She opened her window and stuck her head out. She breathed in the distinct smell she would later think of as the Jorvik smell, a mix of salt, soil, and something almost sweet.

  It was neither day nor night but something in between. Apart from the other passengers slowly making their way off of the large ferry, Lisa and her dad were all alone in a city that was just waking up.

  Jorvik. Maybe she could live here after all.

  2

  “Look at the sky, Dad!”

  For the first time since they set off for Jorvik, Lisa sounded happy. Excited, almost. Her dad yawned and mumbled something inaudible from behind the wheel. Lisa shook her head and turned back to look out the window.

  What was happening in the sky? Whatever it was, was the coolest thing she’d ever seen. She could count more hues and shades than in the box of watercolors her mom had given her for Christmas many years ago. Shades of red, purple, pink, and gold gleamed and glittered, like a giant rainbow blanketed the sky and stretched out over the sea.

  It was barely morning, but the night stars continued to twinkle. Despite the darkness, they were so clear and bright they almost looked fake. It seemed to Lisa that they were all twinkling to the rhythm of her heartbeat.

  Still no sound came from the driver’s seat. Lisa took a deep breath and tried again, a little louder this time: “The sky, Dad! Is that the Northern Lights or what? Look at all the stars—I had no idea they could be that bright! Did you? Do you see how they form a giant star? Dad, come on, look!”

  “Mm-hmm . . . ,” her dad mumbled.

  He was completely engrossed in the map that was supposed to guide them to the small town of Jarlaheim. Their new home was located just outside the center of town.

  Eventually they passed through the gates of Jarlaheim’s massive,

  medieval, city wall and stopped in the middle of a square. The square was completely quiet and deserted.

  Pretty cozy, Lisa mused. She stared down one of the cobbled streets that led away from the square and spotted several little restaurants and cafés.

  She could picture herself sitting in one of them on a sunny fall day with a big cup of tea and a fancy dessert. Talking to her dad, or maybe—she took a deep breath and dared to consider the thought—some new friends.

  Her dad scanned the area for somewhere to buy coffee and

  accidentally put his arm on the horn, making it honk loudly.

  “How is this possible?” he screamed. “Not a single place open!

  I need coffee!”

  Her dad drove on, out through another stone gate in the city wall. Lisa studied him and thought about the jar of instant coffee she had packed as a backup in case the new house didn’t have a coffee machine. She knew what her dad was like when he didn’t get his caffeine. Lisa smiled to herself and turned her eyes back to the colorful, morning sky.

  Just above one of the mountain tops, the giant star-shaped constellation was still shining so brightly that it was almost blinding. It wasn’t the Big Dipper or any of the other constellations her mom and dad had pointed out to her when she was little.

  No, this was something else. Lisa had never seen anything like it before.

  High above their van, the stars traced the outline of a large, four-pointed star in the paling morning sky. She turned back to her dad. He hasn’t notic
ed any of it, she thought to herself. How is that even possible?

  The sunrise eventually chased the strange four-pointed star from the sky. In the soft morning light, the first fall leaves shimmered on the trees like spun gold. Lisa’s dad drove on toward their new home.

  In the center of the sleepy town, a drowsy girl with long,

  jet-black hair pulled back into a messy bun opened the front door of a limestone house. She took off her large glasses and rubbed her eyes, still blurry with sleep. As she looked into the small, neat garden, she noted the roses were still in full bloom. While this might be unusual elsewhere in fall, it was normal for Jorvik. One of the things she loved about living there was how everything seemed to obey different laws. Even something as fundamental as nature couldn’t be predicted or tamed.

  “Would you fetch the paper please, Linda?” a voice called out.

  “I’m already on my way, Aunt Amal!”

  Linda slipped her feet into a pair of clogs and pulled one of her aunt’s coats over her nightgown for the short trip to the mailbox. Her little black cat bolted out the door, rubbed itself against her legs, and proceeded to meow loudly.

  “What’s the matter, Misty?” Linda asked sleepily, scratching the cat behind its one intact ear.

  The air was cool on this September morning. The cat’s eyes were big and green, and they reflected a bright light coming from somewhere in the sky.

  Linda picked up the cat and then looked up.

  Her eyes were fixed on the early morning sky. Right next to the fading moon, a strange constellation of stars was twinkling in the shape of a huge crescent moon. A few years ago, Linda went through a phase when she was obsessed with astronomy. She tried to learn all of the constellations by heart. She had even received a telescope for Christmas. But she had never seen this strange constellation before.

  “Weird,” she muttered. She glanced back down at Misty in her arms, and then walked the rest of the way to the mailbox to fetch the newspaper.