Sigyn's Song

by Meg Trotter

  Maera ran her hands over her face and up into her tangled hair. She gave a half-hearted nod. This changed everything. She didn’t know what she was going to do now. She was too tired to sort it out at the moment.

  “I’m sorry,” Luka added, and Maera looked at him in surprise. “I didn’t realize ... about your reasons.”

  She waited for the addition of a sarcastic comment. When it didn’t come, she dropped her hands from her hair in resignation. I’m sorry about your mate, Maera clicked softly. She turned and sank down to sit beside him on his bed. After another moment of silence, she shook her head with a sigh. I can’t believe you thought I wanted Erik just for my ego.

  “Have you seen him? I’m tempted to fight you for him.”

  Maera snorted in amusement, despite her annoyance. She shoved his shoulder. A smile flickered at the corners of his mouth but extinguished quickly. After a moment, she drew her legs up to her chest and rested her chin on them. Tell me about them. Your mate, I mean.

  Luka turned his gaze back to the ceiling. “I relive the day she died nearly every damn night. You really think I want to think about it when I’m awake too?”

  She shook her head. No. Don’t tell me about that. Tell me about her. What was she like? What made you want to make her your mate? Luka dropped his gaze from the roof and regarded her suspiciously. Maera smiled, her tone turning teasing. Well, since you think my way of choosing a mate is so terrible, what was your way?

  He turned his attention back to the ceiling, let out a sigh and pitched himself backward onto the bed. He was quiet. Maera waited. Finally he said, “It was a long time ago.”

  Maera waited again. When it seemed like that was all she was going to get, she pitched herself backward to land on her back beside him. She gave him an overly sweet smile. He glowered at her. His gaze moved down to where a strand of her half unbraided hair had sprawled across his chest. He picked it up and tossed it back at her as if dealing with a particularly disgusting sea slug. He glanced back at her, saw she was still waiting, and rolled his eyes with a sigh. He pillowed the back of his head with his hands, whacking Maera in the face with his elbow as he did so. She grunted in annoyance and shifted her body away from him a bit more.

  “We met at a festival at night,” he said finally.

  What did she look like?

  “Dark skin. Long, dark hair. Waves of it all the way down to her waist. Bright red lips. Curves like crazy, and she had this intricate tattoo down her back … Gods, she was gorgeous,” he muttered. He smirked up at the ceiling as if seeing an image of her there. However, he seemed to remember Maera waiting patiently for more information, and he shook himself out of his thoughts.

  “She was ... from a type of people my family is not fond of. But I was young and stupid, and she was beautiful and full of life.” He gave a little chuckle. “And not very prone to caring what other people thought of her. I’d sneak away to see her whenever I could and we would walk along the beaches near her home, talking for hours about nothing.”

  Maera tried to imagine the scene — Luka and this beautiful woman walking together hand-in-hand along the beach, talking, laughing and teasing each other. It was hard to imagine, but she liked picturing Luka that way — soft and gentle and in love. She groped behind her for one of the furs piled on the bed and pulled it over her to block out some of the chill of the room. Her legs seemed to ache more when they were cold. How long did you know each other before you chose her to be your mate?

  This wiped some of the softness from the witch’s face. “We knew it was stupid. We belonged to two vastly different types of people. Two whole different worlds. We denied the need for us to be officially mates for many years. But after we found out she was...” He paused, then shook his head, changing course. “We just decided it was time.” Silence fell for a few moments more before he cleared his throat and spoke again. “We had many good years together before ... before the end.”

  When his throat bobbed with the effort of swallowing down a rise of emotion, Maera slipped a hand out from under the furs. She lay her fingertips on Luka’s bent elbow. He jumped at the contact and looked over at her. I want to hear about the before, Maera cut in gently. Not the end. Tell me about the good times.

  His distress seemed to dissipate with his next breath as he regarded her. He suddenly smirked. “Well, on the night I asked her to be mine, we’d just had the most fantastic night of love-making that—“

  “Ack! No! Stop!” Maera sputtered with horrified laughter. She shoved him, and he snickered. I don’t want to hear those parts! They both dissolved into laughter that faded, only to be renewed when they glanced at each other again. When the rising and falling wave of laughter finally evaporated, they both lay back on the furs, wiping away tears.

  Maera grinned. You are terrible.

  I know, he clicked back. He was still smiling though, as he looked back up at the ceiling.

  She re-settled herself, curling up as much as she could in the cramped space. Now tell me for real. Leaving out the intimate parts, please.

  Luka continued speaking about his late wife in gentle tones as the sun set and their shared room grew dark. As it grew later, Maera only briefly considered interrupting him to go get food. However, the warm bed and his low, rhythmic voice lulled her into a peaceful doze. The last thing Maera heard before she drifted off to sleep was Luka’s drowsy voice mutter, “Her name was Angrboda. But I always called her Boda.”

  Chapter 13

  The sound started low, at the edge of Maera’s hearing. She frowned and buried herself deeper in the furs, in an attempt to sink back into sleep. She was so comfortable. The heat had eased the ache in her legs until it was a barely perceptible twinge. She wanted nothing more than to stay curled up in this sweet absence of pain.

  The sound persisted.

  More consciousness trickled back to Maera, and she reluctantly opened her eyes. It took a moment of confused blinking before she figured out what felt out of the ordinary. She realized she was on the wrong side of the room. It was then she noticed the slight pressure at her back. She lifted up just enough to glance over her shoulder. Luka was there, still on his back, but sleeping with his hands laced loosely together over his stomach. Her back was pressed up against his side. His face was peaceful. No nightmares tonight, it seemed.

  The sound that had woken her drew Maera’s attention, and she cocked her head to try to make sense of it. It sounded like ... something crackling. She looked over at their hearth, thinking maybe the fire had somehow had gotten out of hand. However, she saw it was only embers. This sound came from outside.

  Maera had almost decided just to lay back down and ignore it when a clatter and then a scream shook the quiet of the night. Luka shot up into a sitting position so violently that he nearly toppled Maera off the side of the bed. He blinked at her, confused, as if trying to remember how she’d gotten beside him. Another scream shook the last of the drowsiness from both of them. Luka kicked back the furs, and Maera winced at the sharp coldness that enveloped her.

  “Something’s going on,” Luka muttered.

  Obviously. Maera slipped out of the bed and reached for a piece of twine to pull her tangled hair back away from her face. When she turned and slipped her shoes on, Luka was already cracking open the door, one hand gripping his knife. Maera peered around him. In the distance, fire licked at one of the longhouse roofs. Shadows moved between buildings, where shouts and screams echoed over the hills.

  A thud nearby made both Maera and Luka jump. Next to Freydis’ longhouse, two men struggled with each other in the dirt. A third lay a few feet away, splayed on his stomach, with a spear protruding from his back. Luka moved first. He sprinted toward the two struggling men, kicking a dropped dagger in the dirt toward one — Chief Orm, Maera realized with a lurch of fear.

  An angry shriek drew Maera’s attention in the opposite direction. Freydis struggled against a brute of a man who had his meaty hand around her wrist and was dragging her away from the h
ome. Despite her thrashing and kicking, he pulled her along as easily as if she were a strip of seaweed. Another man appeared out of the longhouse, carrying an armload of what looked like various fabrics and a few pieces of jewelry.

  “Found me a new wife!” the first man chuckled to his friend. The other man let out a hoot of appreciation before continuing on his way. Freydis’ father and the other man were slashing at each other with daggers now. Luka seemed to be looking for an opening to jump in and help, but couldn’t quite figure out how.

  Maera rushed toward the dead man and grasped the protruding spear. She put her foot against his back and yanked, fighting nausea as the glistening point emerged from his body. She turned toward the man dragging Freydis.

  Having never used a spear before, Maera wasn’t sure she knew how to wield it. It was made for a man quite a bit taller than her and was awkward and heavy in her hands. She ran for the back of the retreating man and thrust the point as hard as she could toward his unprotected wrist. She misjudged the distance. Instead of slicing into his wrist, like she’d planned, the point slipped, slicing into his fingers that clinched around Freydis’ arm. He hissed in pain and whirled on her. Freydis reached up and clawed at his wounded hand. He cursed and dropped her. He lifted his good hand to deliver a blow to her head.

  Maera lurched forward with the spear again to intersect them. He saw her coming this time. He pivoted to step aside from the jab and grabbed the wood. His dark eyes reflected the fire consuming the house behind her. He gave the spear one good yank, and with that, Maera was disarmed. He tossed the spear into the dirt and pulled out a small knife.

  “Going to regret that,” he snarled at Maera. He lunged. Maera tried to move, but stumbled over Freydis and landed on her back in the dirt. He bent, aiming the point of the dagger at her prone stomach. She couldn’t get her legs untangled quickly enough to move.

  A metallic clank echoed. Maera opened her eyes to see Prince Erik in front of her, spattered with blood, and carrying a large axe which he now held out in front of her. He’d blocked the blow. He smiled when the other man snarled some obscenities and took a step back to adjust his stance.

  “Have my father’s enemies really stooped so low as to knifing women?” Erik said. He shook his head. “I always knew you all were a cowardly lot, but I didn’t know you were this shameful.”

  “Your father is no king of mine. He took the land he claims to rule. It doesn’t belong to him.” The man spat into the sand. “And everyone knows you murdered your older brother to get first in line to the throne.”

  “Ugly rumors,” Erik said with a smile, “From those determined to dethrone the rightful ruler.” He adjusted his grip on the large handle of the axe.

  “The truth,” the man snapped, “From those determined to give a kin-slayer what he deserves.” With a flick of his wrist, he gripped his knife by the point with bloodied fingers. With another flick, it soared toward Erik. It was a bad throw, the blood making his grip slick. It barely grazed the prince’s shoulder. But while Erik dodged the attack, the other man darted back into the shadows.

  Maera retrieved the thrown blade a few feet away and tucked it into her belt before turning to Freydis, who was getting to her feet. Her wrist was red and raw, and it looked like one of her eyes was swelling shut. She looked back at where her father had been struggling and let out a little shuddering breath. He was striding toward them, both he and Luka speckled with blood, but looking largely unhurt. Freydis ran to her father. He embraced her with one arm, planting a kiss on her forehead before turning to Erik.

  “They’re after you. Maybe you should—“

  The prince shook his head. “I’m done hiding. You all are suffering on my account. I’ll do what I can to help drive them off.” He glanced at the bodies laying off to the side in the dark before turning to Maera. “Are you hurt, love?”

  She took quick stock of herself. Her legs throbbed again, but other than that, all seemed to be in order. She shook her head. She motioned to his blood-spattered body. “You?”

  “Mere scratches. I’m fine.” And he did look fine, Maera realized, despite the blood. His eyes practically sparked with excitement. “You two go hide out at the big tree,” he said. “You should be safe there. Most of the battle is inside the walls. I’ll come find you when it’s all over.”

  “Be safe,” Maera said.

  He stepped forward and captured her mouth in a rough kiss and pulled away with a smirk. “Borrowing a bit of your luck, my dear. Now I know I’ll be safe.” Erik winked at Maera and turned, heading out into the shadows. Chief Orm gave his daughter one more kiss on the forehead before releasing her and following the prince out into the fight.

  Freydis let out a shuddering breath and then turned to Maera, as if just remembering something. “Valka,” she said. “We need to go find her. Her home’s down by the entrance. It will be one of the first that the raiders hit.”

  Maera nodded, and both women headed out into the shadows, with Luka trailing behind.

  The three dodged the fighting going on in earnest at the center of town. It was so dark, it was impossible to tell who was a villager and who was a raider as the swords clashed and men screamed. The trio slipped, unnoticed, toward the farms closer to shore. They darted around the back of a longhouse and Maera tripped over something large laying propped up against the side.

  She grunted when she hit the ground, then scrabbled away from it, worried it was another dead body — terrified it was Valka’s. However when Luka slipped a hand under her arm and helped heft her back to her feet, she saw the body belonged to a man who was very much still alive.

  Skarde crouched in the dark up against the outside wall with one of his legs splayed out. He regarded them with wild eyes. Freydis reacted first. “What are you doing here? Where’s Valka?” When he only mumbled something in reply, Valka kicked his injured leg. This seemed to focus him. He sputtered a curse and glowered up at her. “Where. Is. Valka?” Freydis said again, her voice low and dangerous.

  “They took her,” he said.

  “Took her? What do you mean, took her? Where is she?” When Skarde didn’t immediately answer, Freydis reared back to kick him again.

  “When I realized what was going on, I ran down to her house,” Skarde spat. “They’d already killed her father by the time I’d got here. I tried to fight them off of her, but they beat me with clubs, and I just woke up here and she was gone!”

  Maera thought Skarde looked in remarkably good condition for somebody who had allegedly been beaten with blunt weapons. Anger shot through her. She kicked Skarde in the ribs herself before she turned without a word and ran toward the beach. Freydis and Luka followed close behind.

  Down at the water, two unfamiliar ships were pulled up on the beach. One was aflame. A couple men were on the second — one trying to dowse a fire that had started at the front of the boat. Apparently someone from the village had attempted to burn the ships while the raiders were all out in the farms. The second man was struggling with something in the back of the boat. It shrieked and was suddenly silenced.

  Maera’s anger flamed red hot. She raced forward, pulling out the knife from her belt. The first man noticed them and dropped his bucket of sea water to reach for a sword in his own belt. He was too slow. With a slash and a shove, Maera sent him toppling backward off the ship and into the water. A dark stain bloomed in the water where he’d fallen. Flecks of blood spattered the string of beads around Maera’s wrist.

  Without stopping to think, she continued to the back of the boat where the second man loomed over Valka, who was crumpled on the floor of the ship. Maera sliced at his back, the blade cutting at the leather covering of his clothes, but not quite finding skin. He rounded on her, but then Luka was there. He grabbed the man by the hair and yanked him away from Valka’s prone body. There was a scuffle, and then a muffled scream and this raider joined his brother with a plop into the water.

  Luka raised an eyebrow at Maera’s blood-stained blade. “Damn,
Little Fish,” he said, breathless from the struggle. “Didn’t realize you had teeth.”

  Freydis pushed past them both and knelt at Valka’s side. The blond woman groaned and her eyes fluttered open, then watered when they focused on her friends. Freydis helped her into a sitting position, and Valka leaned into her friend’s arms, sobbing against her chest. Freydis stroked her hair and shushed her gently.

  Maera looked back toward the shore, but her attention snagged on the mast of the ship. She hadn’t noticed when she’d first barreled past, but tied to the large wooden post with multiple ropes, was a woman.

  The fire from the other ship, which was well involved now, lit up her small frame, looped from shoulder to hips with thick brown rope. Her head hung limply forward, and a mane of red hair cascaded down her shoulders. Luka noticed her too now. He cursed and strode forward, laying a hand on her neck.

  “Still alive,” he muttered. He looked at Maera and gave a jerk of his head toward the woman. Together they sawed at the ropes while Valka and Freydis stood watch for any raiders who might be making a retreat for the boat. Maera snapped through the last of the bindings, and the woman crumpled forward. Luka caught her before she hit the deck.

  He grunted, slipped his knife into his belt, and then shifted the unconscious woman to cradle her against his chest. He looked annoyed with the situation, but huffed, resigned. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.

  The women piled out of the boat and back onto the shore, while Luka followed behind. They turned toward the path that would lead to the large tree, however a voice rumbled out over the sound of the crackling fire and the shouts and grunts of the fighting.

  “Loki,” the voice drawled from behind them.

  Beside Maera, Luka jerked to a stop.

  Chapter 14

  For a heartbeat Maera was afraid Luka had been hit by a thrown dagger. His posture went rigid. His face drained of all color. However his gaze shifted to Maera’s face and his expression hardened. He took a breath and held out the unconscious girl toward her. “Take her.”