Ingrid took special notice of those areas.
“Whoa,” she huffed as she lost her balance, stretching out a leg to widen her stance.
Her father smiled at her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “It’s a feeling that feeds the soul, once you get it in your blood. I actually miss it if I’ve been on land too long. Someday I’ll take you for a small trip, and you can see how it feels with the sail up.”
“Could I go this time?” Might as well ask, since he brought it up.
“No. This is not a time for fun. There is too much at stake, too much danger on this trip.”
“You are letting Hagen go.”
“Hagen is a man now, and it’s time for him to join me. Mind your place, Ingrid.”
“He’s only a little older than I am; I could help. And I can take care of myself.”
Klaus rubbed a hand over his face. “Meyla. I believe you, but not this time. Show some respect, and let this go. Stay with your mother, work hard on your training—I expect to see how much better you are when I return.”
A sly grin etched her face. “You know that I’ll be training? And you’re okay with it?”
“Of course I know. Your mother and I don’t keep secrets from each other. I am fine with my strong-willed daughter fighting for what she wants. It makes me proud of you.” He leaned over and smiled like he had a secret. “You remind me of your stubborn Papa. Just be careful, and rest when you tire.” He pulled her into a hug. “Now, go back and help get things ready for the boats.”
Ingrid hugged him tight once more. “Okay, Papa.”
She took one more look around the boat to make mental notes. She hoped her father would feel the same about her fighting spirit in the morning, when she and Selby came out of hiding.
The docks still buzzed with activity. Ingrid strolled toward the village center, and came upon Hagen and Jorg. They carried packs on their backs, and were rolling kegs toward the longboat. Ingrid took a deep breath and stood a little taller as she approached them. Expecting to be teased for staying home, she wanted to be ready for them. There was no way she’d let them rile her up.
Won’t they be surprised tomorrow . . .
Movement caught her attention over Hagen’s shoulder. A small child, a girl maybe, toddled around on the shoreline. Ingrid stopped in her tracks. Her mouth went dry, and her vision spun like she was standing on a high ledge. The scene in front of her changed, just for an instant. A child stood near some tall grasses, and something shiny was on the ground all around her.
Panic crashed over Ingrid like a wave, and she blinked several times.
The child was gone, and light flickered in and out of Ingrid’s perception. Her bones turned to water, and she felt her knees crack against the wooden dock at the same time that a strong pair of arms pulled her away from the edge.
Jorg’s wide, hazel-green eyes stared into hers as her focus returned.
Shouting rang out in the distance, and she could feel the vibrations of the dock bouncing beneath her. The cold wood cut into her fingers as she pushed herself to stand, succeeding only when Jorg wrapped his arm around her waist to steady her.
Shouts and commotion finally broke through her daze, and she turned to see where it was coming from.
A young boy lay on the dock in the middle of a pool of liquid, pieces of splintered wood scattered around him.
Without hesitation or knowing why she felt so compelled, Ingrid ignored her wobbly legs and rushed to the boy, pushing past the gathered crowd to kneel down next to his supine figure. The smell of ale stung her nose, and the coppery tang of blood hung in the air. The boy’s chest barely moved up and down; a quick glance told her why. A splinter of wood, longer than Ingrid’s hand and a third as wide, protruded from his leg.
With a deep breath, she latched onto the splinter and pulled as hard as she could. It slipped out easier than expected, and her arm flung out wide from the force she’d used. Dropping the bloodied piece, she slapped her hand over the hole in the boy’s leg and closed her eyes. She concentrated her thoughts, willing the injury to close so he could wake. She ignored everything and everyone else.
In a heartbeat, she felt a jolt through her chest. A strange, warm, nearly hot sensation ran down her arm and into her hand. Ingrid knew she was holding her breath, but she dared not release it. Her hands pulled away from the boy’s leg and dropped into her lap.
With a small flutter, the boy’s eyelids lifted.
He coughed, and Ingrid barely had time to scoot back before he vomited all over himself. Every muscle in her body felt as heavy as iron, and she sagged back onto her heels. A couple of men helped the child to sit up as he sputtered some more, and the color started to ease back into his pale face. Ingrid stole a glance down at his leg, and gasped; he wasn’t bleeding anymore.
Her head drooped toward her chest.
“What did you do?” one of the men asked, his eyes as wide and unblinking as an owl’s.
“Nothing. I . . . don’t know . . . I just wanted to help him, that’s all.”
A hand reached out and pulled Ingrid back, away from the crowd, and she stared up into the worried faces of Hagen and Jorg. Over their shoulders, she saw her father coming from his boat.
“This way.” Hagen put his hand on her shoulder and turned her toward their father. “You need to get out of here.”
“Why?” Disoriented and wobbly, she felt as though she might fall down.
“Why are your hands so hot?”
“What happened?” Klaus asked as he reached them, deep lines carved across his brow.
“I don’t know. Ingrid started to fall down, and Jorg caught her before she fell off the dock, but the keg he was rolling got away and crashed. It broke, and hit that boy; he was bleeding, but now he’s better,” Hagen explained. Then he turned to Ingrid. “How did you do that?”
“I didn’t do anything. I don’t know,” her voice trailed off as she shook her head. Air caught in her dry throat as she tried to breathe. What did I do?
“Why are your hands warm?”
“They aren’t.” Jorg was clutching one of Ingrid’s hands.
When did that happen? She looked up into his strained face.
Grabbing the hand Jorg held, then the other one, Hagen felt them again. “They were. Not just warm, but hot. I swear it, Father.”
“Ingrid, what caused your fall that started all of this?” Her father narrowed his eyes at her and waited for an answer.
“I saw a child, Papa. I don’t know. It’s like I was here, and then, for a second, I was seeing something else. I can’t explain it.”
She could feel the sting in her eyes, and tried to keep the tears from falling, digging her nails into her palms, but it was no use—they slid down her cheeks anyway. Dropping her face to stare at her toes, she tried to hide behind a curtain of hair.
A finger under her chin raised her eyes to meet her father’s. He was not smiling as he stared at her with an intensity that made her want to turn and run as fast as she could. “Go home,” he urged. “Stay inside with your mother until I get there.”
Nodding her head, she turned to walk away. When she did, many in the crowd surrounding the boy watched her. Willing herself to walk as if no one else existed, she ignored the stares and headed for home. Whispers and mumbles reached her ears; tones ranged from confusion to awe, and even some fear. The hair on Ingrid’s neck stood on end, and her insides caved in on themselves. As soon as her feet touched the soft earth of the shore, she ran as fast as she could, not stopping until she flung herself down onto her bed.
4
Ingrid rolled over on her bed and blinked her eyes several times in the darkness. They felt like they were filled with sand, and were tender when she rubbed them. Apparently, she’d cried herself to sleep.
Voices drifted to her ears from the main room; it had to be meal time. Light flashed briefly when the door flap was moved to admit someone. It closed as the visitor tiptoed toward her.
“Oh, good
. You’re awake,” Selby said when Ingrid sat up.
“Yeah. Did you hear what happened?”
“There are different stories floating around. I wanted to come to you earlier, but I had to help my mother. She insisted on helping supply food and extra linens for the trip, even though my father is staying home.”
“What are people saying?”
“Well, it varies, but most versions have something to do with you causing a keg of ale to smash into a boy, and his injuries range from a broken leg to a wooden spike through his leg to death.” Selby used her fingers to keep track of the different options as she spoke. “But they all end with you doing some kind of seiðr magic to heal him.”
Ingrid shook her head and rubbed her face, taking slow, deep breaths to force down the bile rising to her throat. “They think I used Freya’s magic, like the witch in the woods? I didn’t even know what I was doing, I just did it.”
Selby smiled and sat down on the bed next to her friend. “Most people around here farm or fight, where thinking isn’t necessary. Besides, they’ll forget about it and move on to their next problem soon enough.” Lowering her voice, she leaned closer to Ingrid. “Especially when we won’t be here for them to see.”
“You still want to come with me?” Ingrid’s shoulders softened.
“What you did is odd, I won’t lie, but I’m not worried. I do want to know what really happened, though. Not because I’m afraid, but because I’m nosy.” She bumped Ingrid’s shoulder, and gave her friend a wide grin.
Ingrid smiled back, took a deep breath, and told the truth of what happened.
“So Jorg saved your life. You could have fallen off the dock and been crushed by a boat, or drowned.”
“That’s what you take from what I just said? I had a vision, or something, and somehow healed an injury, a bad one. Those are the bigger issues, here.”
“Yeah, yeah. Those we need to deal with, too. What do you think the vision meant?”
“I don’t know.”
They sat in silence for a couple minutes.
“I felt different when I touched the boy.” Ingrid said it so quietly that Selby almost didn’t hear her.
“How?”
“I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like my body moved, but I couldn’t see it because I was wrapped in a big, warm blanket. When I stood up, Hagen grabbed my hands, and said they felt hot, but when Papa took hold of them, they were cold again.”
“Maybe you have some kind of awesome healer skills.” Selby smiled, but was staring at Ingrid’s hands.
“How would I have anything like that? I’m just regular. Not even shieldmaiden-worthy, so everyone likes to tell me.”
“I don’t know. Don’t let it bother you, I’m sure there’s some kind of explanation we aren’t seeing right now. One problem at a time. The first thing we need to do is eat—I’m starving. Then, we figure a way onto your father’s boat, and hide until morning when we will be far down the river. See? We have much bigger things to worry about right now.” She smiled again and grabbed Ingrid’s hand to pull her toward the door.
Ingrid thought Selby’s face looked a little pinched, but she excused it as hunger, and followed her out of the room.
The place was packed. It was tradition for the departing men to bring their families to the longhouse for a feast the night before they left. In their usual corner, the girls tried to ignore the occasional stares and whispers directed their way.
Selby crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue at a mean, older woman who kept sneering. Ingrid held back her chuckle as the woman huffed and walked away.
“Idiots,” Selby muttered.
Songs of brave warriors and tales of old battles began after most of the meal was finished. Ingrid and Selby used the distraction to talk with their parents and put their plan into action. They wasted no time in packing Ingrid’s things; in her earlier panic, she hadn’t done anything. Selby already had her pack stashed outside, ready to grab as soon as they could leave.
“We should go now while everyone is singing, that way no one will notice us on the docks,” she suggested from her spot on Ingrid’s bed, as she watched her friend tie a piece of leather around her clothes bundle.
“I think so, too. Let’s say a quick goodbye to my parents and get going.”
“Maybe we should just leave. What if they start asking too many questions?”
“I need to say something. You know my mother; she’ll probably walk to your house later if I don’t tell her goodnight before I go.”
“Probably right.” Selby sighed and looked at Ingrid. “You have a good family, you know that, right?”
“Yeah, I do. Let’s go before I talk myself into acting like the obedient girl everyone expects me to be.”
“This was your idea, remember? Don’t even think of backing out.”
They smiled at each other and held hands as they walked into the other room.
Both of Ingrid’s parents were sitting in their chairs on the dais at the back, where her dad presided over village business. They gave Ingrid concerned looks when they saw her, but didn’t say anything about the day’s earlier events, letting her leave after hugs. Her father promised to bring her a gift from Jorvik, which made her stomach clench. She hated lying to her parents, and might have surrendered at that moment if Selby hadn’t grabbed her wrist and pulled her away.
As they passed Hagen, he stopped them. “Aren’t you going to say goodbye?” He directed the comment to Ingrid, but shot Selby a small grin. He toyed with her sometimes, just to be a pest.
“Goodbye. Enjoy your journey; I hope you don’t find too many surprises you don’t know how to deal with,” Selby replied. Her voice dripped with sweetness, and Ingrid wanted to slap her.
“There’s nothing we can’t handle.” He motioned to all of his friends, sitting beside him at the table.
They laughed and patted each other on the back—except Jorg, who watched Ingrid with his brows together, deep in thought.
“Are you feeling better, Ingrid?” he asked.
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“While we’re gone, don’t let anyone bother you about what happened today.”
Ingrid narrowed her eyes and glared at him. “Why would they? The only people who give me a hard time are sitting at this table.”
He gave her a half-grin that made his dimple peek out at her, and she swallowed a lump that formed in her throat, feeling the heat rush to her cheeks. “Then I guess you should be safe,” he teased. The other boys laughed again.
Grabbing Selby’s sleeve, Ingrid steered them both toward the door. “‘Bye.” She called out, unwilling to risk any more conversation with him.
Selby retrieved her pack, and they strolled around the village center casually, checking the docks for anyone that might see them. They headed toward the end, where Ingrid’s father’s boat waited. It would be first in line to leave in the morning. The sparkling gleam of the moon reflected in the gentle ripples on the bay.
“Eep! I can’t believe we are really doing this.” Selby practically vibrated with excitement.
“It sounded a lot less scary before—now I think I might throw up.”
“Do it now, before we hide. There’s no way I want to go through all this trouble if we’re not even going to make it to the untying of the ropes.” Selby smiled, but her voice sounded shaky and lacked her usual bravado.
Ingrid took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Let’s do this.”
Walking quickly up to the boat, she heaved her pack harder than necessary to be sure it would clear the railing. Selby followed with her own, and then they each took hold of a different rope that kept the boat in place.
“Together on three,” Ingrid said. “One, two, three!”
They pulled themselves up and wrapped their legs around the rope to shimmy to the rail. Ingrid refused to need Selby’s help, and pulled herself over the edge almost at the same time as her strong friend. Both girls fell with a thud, and groaned as
they knocked against the wooden seats, then fell to the floor. When they had caught their breath, untangled their skirts, and checked for broken bones, they crouched onto their feet.
“Do you think anyone heard us?” Selby asked.
“No one is out here, and inside, it’s too loud. I’m sure we’re safe.”
They hurriedly grabbed their packs, then headed toward the bow. The moon overhead provided some light, but in the near dark, shadows played tricks with their nerves. Both girls stumbled as they made their way, unsure on their feet as the boat rocked and bounced against the dock.
All of the supplies were packed in tight. The girls had to squeeze between two kegs to find enough space to hide, next to some crates along the hull. Ingrid stuffed her pack under her and leaned against the cool, rough wood, trying to slow Thor’s hammer beating inside her chest.
Selby, just out of arm’s reach, settled in much like Ingrid had, only a little more squished.
They looked at each other with huge grins across their faces, and whispered squeals of delight escaped their lips as they settled in for their long, cramped wait.
Sometime during the night, Ingrid’s legs had gone numb. It could have been from being tucked up under her, or from the freezing cold coming through the planks of wood. She slept in small amounts, and knew that Selby had, too, from her occasional snores. Now, both were wide awake, as activity on the boat buzzed all around them, and Ingrid’s jaw ached from clenching her teeth, unsure if her discomfort came from the cold, her nerves, or her screaming bladder.
Horns sounded, signaling the ships to leave the harbor, and her father’s boat drifted away from the docks. Butterflies took flight inside Ingrid’s stomach as oars sloshed water against the side of the boat as they pulled out of the bay. Rowers held tempo with a rhythmic “ho” as each oar sliced into the water like a perfectly timed dance. Each time the boat moved forward, a little jolt made Ingrid’s back bump against the boat’s hull.
The Viking Maiden Box Set Page 4
