by Donna Grant
Radnar and Edra might not be her birth parents, and the others living at the abbey might not be her brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, or cousins, but they were family nonetheless.
Perhaps it was seeing Radnar defending those unable to help themselves, or maybe it was Edra using magic to protect a stranger that had made Synne want to be a Hunter. But she couldn’t imagine a life where a father, brother, or husband ordered her about. And while she didn’t hate gowns, she much preferred wearing pants so she had freedom of movement.
She might never know what had happened to her real family or why she was abandoned, and she might never know what kind of life she could’ve had with them, but she wouldn’t change her present for anything in the world—even if it were a life filled with danger.
That was part of the appeal. Each day was a new adventure. Whether it was patrolling the forest, escorting someone seeking solace to the abbey, fighting the Coven, or honing her skills, Synne was always busy.
So what if she never found the kind of love that Edra and Radnar had. She had other things to think about. Besides, the last thing she wanted was someone trying to change her.
She walked out of the abbey to find the knights training. There were a few handsome ones, but not one of them had looked twice at her. If only she could be more like Ravyn, who was sexy and alluring in whatever she did. But that wasn’t Synne.
How she hated when her thoughts took her down that road. She had more important matters to think about than that of men and the puzzling, baffling path of love.
She gave a nod to Asa as the witch stood outside with her small owl perched on her forearm.
“Be careful out there,” Asa called.
Synne paused and met Asa’s deep blue gaze and nodded to the owl. “Has Frida seen something?”
“You know what she has seen because you’ve seen it yourself. Things are going to get even more dangerous.”
Synne nodded at the truth in her words. “That is what our lives are about, isn’t it? As long as the Coven is out there, we live with danger just around the corner.”
Asa walked to her and touched her shoulder. “You should come see me soon. I saw a vision of you and the tattoo you will need.”
Synne bowed her head. “Consider it done.”
She left the shield of the abbey and made her way deep into the forest. Her gaze was sharp, but her mind moved between the possibility of Gira within the woods and what it was that Asa had seen in her vision.
27
The wind blowing the fur lining the outside of the hood of the new cloak tickled Helena’s cheek. She walked beside Armir through the streets of Blackglade with Valdr next to her.
“We do not have time for this,” she said.
Pale green eyes slid to her, but he only smiled in response.
She glanced over her shoulder to look back at the tower. It stood like a lofty sentry, standing guard over the isle. “Where are we going?”
“It’s not far now.”
Helena was doing her best to remain calm, but she must not have revealed how critical it was to get to Jarin quickly.
“Be calm,” Armir said as they paused to let a group of children of various ages run past them. “You know how resilient Jarin is. If anyone can withstand Sybbyl, it’s him.”
“All that means is that she will make him suffer longer.”
Armir stopped and faced her. She had to take a step back since his action had been so sudden. As she looked up into his chiseled face, she saw the ancient line of Vikings in the steely way he held her gaze.
“Every warrior that leaves our gates spends more time out in your world than in ours. The warriors train for years in anticipation of being caught by either the Coven or those without magic. Trust me when I tell you that every one of those men and women who risk their lives to track the Coven are the best the Varroki has to offer. And Jarin is the best of them all.”
Somehow, Helena wasn’t surprised by the revelation. “You tell me that, but you still fear for him. I see it in your eyes.”
“Of course, I do.” He looked toward the group of retreating children. “At one time, Jarin and I played together. We trained with each other with sticks, with magic, with our hands...as well as with our minds.”
“You wanted to be a warrior,” she guessed as she sank her fingers into Valdr’s fur as he leaned against her.
Armir drew in a deep breath. “Every Varroki has a part to play in the continuation of our people and the fight against the Coven. Aye, I did want to join the warriors, but my calling took me in another direction.”
“A special one, I think.”
He looked at the tower. “Malene is not the first Lady I have guarded and aided, but she is by far the finest of them.” His head swung back to Helena. “My duties go beyond that of the Lady of the Varroki, though. I am also in charge of the warriors.”
Helena nodded slowly. Everything the Varroki did was in direct contrast to the Coven. Whatever Armir wanted to show her, it was important enough for them to take time away from getting ready to find Jarin. “I understand.”
They continued walking. The streets became narrower as the land dipped down and then back up again. Her thighs were screaming in protest when she glanced up and saw the large structure sitting atop an outcropping.
Steps had been chiseled into the rocks leading up to the home, and there were at least two hundred of them. Valdr bounded ahead of them, stopping to sniff things here and there. Helena was out of breath by the time they reached the top.
Armir turned her around and had her look out. She forgot about her aching legs or the burning in her lungs as she beheld the stunning sight of the rocky coastline, a wide beach with sparkling sand, and miles of water before her.
“Can you imagine growing up with this kind of view?” Armir asked.
“Is this your home?”
He smiled at her as the door opened behind them. They turned, and Helena came face-to-face with pale blue eyes that she knew well. Her lips parted as she took in the blond hair with gray at the temples, and the lines of age that did nothing to distract from the man’s strong jaw and piercing gaze.
He was an exact replica of Jarin, including the broad shoulders and tall form, except, he was older.
The man slid his gaze to Armir. “It must be important for you to bring the örlendr here.”
“She is no outsider, Bjorn. She is a descendant of the First Witch.”
Helena held still as Bjorn’s gaze swept over her. There was so much she wanted to tell him about Jarin, but she kept quiet, waiting to see what Armir was about.
Valdr returned to Helena’s side, and Bjorn took note of the action before swinging his gaze back to Armir.
Bjorn braced a hand on the doorway, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Why bring her to my door?”
“Because Helena is a link to our fight with the Coven,” Armir said.
“I know well enough what she is.” Bjorn glanced at her again before crossing his arms over his chest. “How about you tell me the real reason you’re on my doorstep.”
“I believe Armir thought I would like to see Jarin’s family,” she stated.
Bjorn’s attitude changed instantly. His eyes jerked to her as he slowly lowered his arms. Hope filled every inch of his face. “I thought that was Valdr with you. You know my son, then?”
“Aye,” she said. “Jarin saved my life.”
Bjorn stepped aside and held out his arm. “Enter, please.”
Helena was the first one inside, with Valdr pushing past her to lay before the hearth. She looked around the long table, wondering which place Jarin favored. It wasn’t hard to imagine a young Jarin in the space. It was obvious that he had been well loved if his father’s pride were any indication.
She pushed down the hood of her cloak and walked to the hearth where she spied a carving in the rock. Unable to resist, she ran her finger over the Viking rune.
“It means family,” Bjorn said from behind her. “Jarin carved it right
before he left.”
Helena put her palm over the rune and closed her eyes. Jarin rarely spoke of his family, but now she knew why. In order to protect them and do his duty, he’d pushed his love for them as far back as he could.
She stood and turned to Armir. “You think I have doubts about Jarin?”
The commander watched her for a long moment. “You have no idea what you’ll encounter. I want you to be prepared. You saw a side of Jarin that he hasn’t shown anyone in years, but he is fierce in protecting those he loves.”
“Loves?” Bjorn said, looking between her and Armir.
Before she could reply, Armir continued, ignoring Bjorn’s outburst. “Sybbyl wants you. As the Living Heart, if she controls you, she’ll be able to win this battle. Everything we have all fought for will be lost. If she does not already know of your love, she will take one look at your face when you see Jarin, and she’ll know the truth.”
Helena briefly looked over her shoulder at the carving. “You’re telling me I need to put it all aside. You could have told me that at the tower.”
“You needed to see the depths that Jarin has gone to for his family and everyone at Blackglade. And what he will do for you,” Armir said.
Bjorn stepped between them, facing Helena. “Where is my son?”
Helena took one of his large hands in hers and looked into his eyes. “He has been captured by the new leader of the Coven, Sybbyl.”
“He fought her to protect Helena,” Armir added.
Bjorn’s eyes closed for a heartbeat. “Jarin does not reveal his emotions on his face or with his words. It has been like that since his mother died birthing our youngest. His emotions are in his actions. Look for that.”
“I will get him from Sybbyl,” Helena vowed.
Bjorn took her hands in his and squeezed them lightly. “Just make sure she does not then get her hands on you. If what Armir says about Jarin’s feelings for you are true, it will devastate him to lose you.”
“I won’t lose against her.” Helena glanced around Bjorn’s wide frame to Armir. “I know now what I need to do to ensure my victory.”
She shared a smile with Bjorn before she pulled her hands from his and started for the door. She was nearly to it when his words stopped her.
“I rejoiced when Malene changed the laws,” Bjorn said. “I knew then that my son had a chance at a family. I wondered if there was a woman out there who could equal him. Now, I can rest easy knowing my worries were for naught.”
Helena shifted to look back at Bjorn as Valdr rose and padded to her. “Thank you.”
Armir ushered her out of the house and down the steps. She didn’t speak as the three of them made their way back to the tower. Halfway up the winding staircase, she paused, looking out over the land.
The commander said nothing as he stood behind her. He merely waited until she gathered her thoughts.
“Was it difficult for Jarin to leave his family?” she asked.
Armir moved a step closer to her. “Aye.”
“Do you think I can bring him home?”
“Without a doubt.”
She gave a nod and continued onward. When they reached the top and entered Malene’s chamber, there were books and tablets scattered on the table.
The Lady of the Varroki looked up and smiled. “I think I found something that could help in our battle with the Coven.”
Helena hurried to the table to stand opposite Malene. “What is it?”
Malene straightened as she pointed to a thick book she’d been reading. “I remembered that there were records of the first Varroki who came to these shores. I had to find the book and reread the story to refresh my memory, but it states that the First Witch, Trea, led all witches for years. It was three of her sisters who grew jealous of her magic and the power she wielded not just with witches but also with the Vikings themselves.”
“Sisters, as in other witches, or actual sisters?” Armir asked.
“Actual sisters,” Malene answered.
Helena lowered herself onto the bench and propped her elbows on the table. “I can guess where that jealousy led.”
Malene nodded, brows raised. “Exactly. Trea was powerful enough to keep them in check, but she knew that upon her death, her sisters would wreak havoc.”
“Wait,” Armir said. “So, the First Witch...Trea...was good?”
“I do not believe she was one or the other. I think she did whatever was needed for her people,” Malene said.
Helena shrugged. “That makes sense. She may have done things we would consider evil, but they might have been her only recourse. We have no way of knowing.”
“What is she like?” Armir asked Helena. “When has Trea spoken to you?”
Helena folded her arms on the table and thought back to the voice in her head. “She has guided me. Her words reminded me of who I am and what I’m capable of. She never pushed me in one direction or another, simply held me up when I wavered. She gave me strength.”
“She was with you atop the tower,” Malene said.
Helena yanked her gaze to the Lady. “What?”
“She was,” Armir added. “Malene and I both saw a shadowy figure behind you.”
“She’s the one who showed me the way to find Jarin,” Helena murmured.
Malene slowly sat. “She put her hand on your head before looking at me and disappearing. If she were evil like the Coven believes, wouldn’t Trea have urged you to join them?”
“Possibly. I get the feeling that she’s helping me fight against them.”
Armir’s lips tilted. “Because she probably is. What else does the story say?”
Malene placed her hand on the page. “The author states that Trea went off with a trusted group of six followers when she was dying. She didn’t want her sisters near. They were also the reason she had the followers burn her body once she was dead and then distribute what was left of her bones.”
“Let me guess,” Helena said. “The sisters began the Coven.”
Malene nodded.
Armir blew out a breath. “Family against family. And all because of jealousy.”
“If it had not been her sisters, it would have been someone else,” Malene said.
Armir shrugged. “True.”
Helena tapped her fingers on the table as her mind ran through this new information. “Now we know why the Coven has always been obsessed with finding the bones of the First Witch.”
“And had three elders governing them,” Malene added.
Helena nodded in agreement. “But how does any of this help with Sybbyl?”
“Think about all Sybbyl has been told since joining the Coven,” Malene said. “And think about how little she knows of Trea.”
Helena frowned. “I’m not sure knowledge of the First Witch will turn Sybbyl to our side.”
“Oh, it won’t,” Armir said with a grin.
Malene’s lips curved into a wide smile. “Nay, it won’t.”
Helena looked between them before she joined in with a smile as comprehension dawned.
28
Sybbyl ran her hands over the smooth surface of the Staff of the Eternal. The bone within the wood had aged so it was barely identifiable. It looked more like the wood than anything human. How many witches had looked right past it without seeing the relic for what it was?
She was quite happy that no one else had found it before her. It gave her everything she had always dreamt would be hers.
Her gaze slid to Jarin. The warlock sat far from her but also kept his distance from the Gira who stood at the edge of the trees. The nymphs didn’t venture into the Grove unless Sybbyl invited them.
Never had Sybbyl imagined she would be able to control them. She’d never even contemplated such an act, but now that the Gira were bowing down to her, Sybbyl saw the many ways she could use them.
She looked back at the warlock. Jarin was more difficult than she had bargained for. One of the reasons she wanted him for her own was because he was so power
ful both magically and physically. She had miscalculated the strength of his mind, however.
That miscalculation caused her to take a step back and reevaluate. If he were going to freely give her the child she wanted, then she would have to think of another way.
It irritated her that she couldn’t force him as men had forced women for countless generations. Every time she thought of all the helpless women who’d had no recourse but to submit, it infuriated her.
She had seen a man forced once before. Though, could it really be called rape when he grew hard on his own despite being tied down? Or perhaps it was because he was immobile. Sybbyl didn’t know or care.
And with the way the Gira had used their magic on her, she had been sure that Jarin would have already given his seed at least twice by now.
Instead, he sat cross-legged with his eyes closed and his hands upon his knees as if he didn’t have a care in the world. But Sybbyl wasn’t fooled. The warlock was up to something. No one with that kind of magic sat idly.
She leaned close to the staff and put her lips to it as she asked, “What is the warlock doing?”
The smile on her face vanished in the next heartbeat. This was the second time the staff had refused to obey her. She didn’t understand how it had done her bidding just by her thoughts before, and now, it acted as if it decided when and how it would do as she beckoned.
Her fingers tightened on the wood. She closed her eyes and concentrated her magic into her center. It swirled there, the light inside it beating in time with her heart.
She then focused her thoughts on the Varroki. Where are they? Her silent question caused the magic within the staff to vibrate.
Tell me, she demanded.
Then, to her surprise, the staff answered. In her mind, she saw herself standing before a long wall, one she knew well. Hadrian’s Wall. Sybbyl opened her eyes and smiled. The Varroki were in Scotland. There were many mountains and glens to search, but she wasn’t worried.
Once she was in Scotland, she would make the staff show her exactly where the Varroki hid. It was past time for them to stop killing the witches of the Coven.
