“I’m afraid not. We’ll have to work our way closer to it in the morning,” Hagen told her.
“Alright. I don’t suppose you have a flask of water or anything that I could use to at least wipe some of this off?” Even to her own ears she sounded whiny, but fatigue had caught up to her.
“Here, you can use my hangerok, it’s still damp from being in the water earlier,” Selby said and unpinned her apron, handing it around the fire to Ingrid.
Wiping her face and neck, her mood was instantly relieved without the stinging stench of rotten eggs assaulting her nose, and the breeze cooling her cleaned, damp skin.
“That feels better.” A sigh escaped while she worked at getting more goo out of her hair.
“Can you tell us what happened?” Hagen asked.
“Well, let’s see. I was onboard the boat, and then I was fighting to keep my head out of the water.”
“We think the boat was sabotaged from those men you saw, but it was checked before being put into the river, so that’s just our guess. We came after you right away so we don’t really know,” Hagen said.
“Oh.”
“It was worth it, don’t worry about us. Just tell us what happened,” Selby said and gave Hagen a disapproving glance with a quick slap on his shoulder.
Taking a couple slow breaths and waving the smoke away, she told them, “The trolls found me along the shore almost as soon as I crawled out of the water. I didn’t know what they were, and couldn’t see—their smell made my eyes water so bad.”
“They didn’t hurt you, did they?” Jorg interrupted with a look on his face that pleaded for the answer to be no.
Ingrid smiled at him. “No. They carried me for a while, and then crowded me between them while we walked. I couldn’t help getting their muck on me, even before the end. I kept thinking of how to escape, then while we were eating,” Ingrid shuddered at the memory of the slime-soaked rabbit she’d devoured in her hunger, “I remembered the time you teased Selby and me about having magical bread. How you made us do all kinds of stupid stuff to ‘earn’ ours.” A smile broke across her face, squishing her cheeks into her eyes. “I convinced them I had magical mead, and that I would share it if they earned it. I thought maybe if I won, they would let me go. I suggested that we play a game where I would tell them their names. I’d listened to them talk among themselves enough that I thought I had them figured out . . . I didn’t know it would destroy them.” Staring blankly into the fire, she let silence take over.
“We heard something loud, almost like thunder,” Selby said in a low voice.
“Their bodies shook, they roared, and then . . . ” She opened her hands and swept them into a wide arc.
“That sounds horrible.” Selby put her hands over her mouth and wrinkled her nose.
Ingrid fidgeted with Selby’s apron, still trying to wipe sludge off herself. “How long do you think it will take to get to the river in the morning?”
“Not too long. We can head there first thing before we start for home. A bath would be a good idea for all of us,” Jorg said with a wink.
Ingrid lifted the cloth to her face again, stifling a groan of embarrassment.
“Can we follow the river and meet up with the boats again?” Selby asked, and Ingrid was grateful for the change in subject.
“The boats will be too far away by now to reach on foot, and I think we should get away from the river. We would do better to pick our way through the forest and the moors than run into any more slime monsters,” Hagen said.
“Do you think anyone from home might be searching for us? Maybe we should stay by the water so they can find us,” Ingrid said.
“They’ll search around where the boat went down, but you were washed too far away for them to find us,” Hagen answered.
“I agree. If we head north and turn west in about three days, we should come to the village about three more days after that. I traveled through this area once with my father,” Jorg said.
“So tomorrow, we wash and then we walk.” Selby shook her head in agreement with the plan. “For now though, I don’t know about you guys, but I want to keep the fire bright and make sure that other troll doesn’t come back around.”
“Little Ugly wasn’t the bravest of them,” Ingrid said without emotion, watching the flames of the fire dance.
“Little Ugly?” Selby asked with a snort.
Ingrid looked up at her and grinned. “That’s the one that ran away.” She let the smile grow on her face, and bit her bottom lip before she added, “He was also the most disgusting. He farted more than Hagen.” She laughed at her own joke, and Selby joined her when Hagen threw a small clump of mud at Ingrid.
Hearing the laughter of her friends made Ingrid believe that everything would work out, and they would make it back home.
The night was clear, and millions of stars blinked over the camp like a sparkling blanket. Ingrid lay on her back watching them. She should sleep, she knew, because she would need rest for the walk home, but she couldn’t. When she closed her eyes, she either saw trolls or the images from her vision on the river. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t tell anymore if it was real or something she dreamed while nearly drowning.
Something small hit her in the arm, and she brushed at it, thinking it was a bug. Another something hit her under the chin, which she grabbed and realized was a piece of twig, and not the spider she had feared. Sitting up, she saw Jorg smiling at her.
“You’re supposed to be asleep,” he said.
“How do you know I wasn’t, and you didn’t just wake me up?”
“I guess I don’t. Do you normally sleep with your eyes open? Because that would be strange.”
She narrowed her eyes at him in mock annoyance, then scooted closer so their voices wouldn’t wake the others. “I can’t sleep.”
“You’ve been through a lot.”
“I can take watch, if you want to rest,” she offered. Please stay awake and talk with me.
“Nah, I’m not able to sleep either.”
They sat in silence for a while, content as they kept the fire stoked. The worries and fears that had plagued Ingrid earlier slipped away.
“Do you know much of the nine realms?” she asked, twiddling a small stone in her hands.
“I don’t know. As much as anyone, I suppose. Why do you ask?”
“Hagen knows more about them than me. Papa tells the stories of all the gods and their worlds, and he’s paid more attention than I have. I know who the gods are of course, but not much about the realms themselves. Do you think a human can go to any of them?”
“I don’t know, probably not. Some of them wouldn’t be possible, like Muspelheim or Niflheim—they are all fire or mist—but with the others, I don’t know if a human could travel there.”
“What about Asgard—the Bifrost connects it to our realm, right? Isn’t that why it was made?”
“First, Heimdall controls the Bifrost, and he wouldn’t open it to humans, I’m sure of that. It’s a road only the gods travel. Second, and most important, no god or goddess would allow a human to enter their world. What’s this all about, anyway?” He glanced sideways at Ingrid, then back to the fire.
“I don’t know. Nothing, I guess.” She let it drop. It had to be a dream.
“Do you think that’s what’s bringing the old things back here? Like the trolls? Because I’ve been trying to figure that out, too.”
"Yes, that’s partly it." Images of the beautiful woman and her sweet voice from the river haunted Ingrid’s memories. She seemed so real. But was she?
They continued in silence again, then Jorg reached over and took Ingrid’s hand, the bare one, and rubbed it between his large hands. “Did you lose the gauntlet for this one?” he asked. “I can’t believe how cold your hands get.”
“I don’t know if I lost it in the water or after,” she answered distractedly as she watched his hands caress hers.
“Maybe we should tear off the bottom of your apron and wrap
that around your hand—would that help, do you think?”
Jolted from her dreamy stare, she flashed a quick grin. “Probably, I didn’t think of that.” Reaching into the purse attached to the belt around her waist, she found her scissors, and cut a wide strip from her apron. “I forgot I had these. The trolls wanted me to prepare the rabbits they caught for dinner, but I didn’t have a knife, so they made the smallest one do it.” She chuckled. ”I’m glad they didn’t make me empty my bag.”
“You don’t have a knife?”
“No, that I lost in the river.”
Pulling a knife from his boot, Jorg handed it to Ingrid. “Take this one. You should never be without something to defend yourself.”
“What will you do if I take this one?” She took it from him even as she asked the question.
Smiling, he shook his head. “Don’t worry, I have more.”
“Oh.” She turned the knife over in her hands. The bone handle had beautiful carvings in it, and supported a blade about as long as Ingrid’s hand. “Did your father make this? The carvings are so intricate.” Swirls of vines and leaves twisted in a delicate lace pattern on both sides of the handle.
“No, I made that one. When I was younger, I used to get into a lot of trouble for wasting time, dulling blades by making shapes and designs on things. Now, my father uses my creations to get a better price for his ironwork. It’s funny, because I never got the hang of forging, though my father has tried to teach me, but making the handles and doing the carvings, that comes naturally.”
Ingrid watched his face as he spoke, noting the sadness that crossed his features as he talked about his father. She’d heard his story from Hagen once.
Orphaned, Jorg had been found as a baby in the forest by the woman he knew as his mother. With no children of her own, she brought him home, and convinced her husband to keep him, even though he believed Jorg was a changeling left by the faeries. They later bore several daughters, but no sons, and his father reluctantly accepted a relationship with him.
“It’s beautiful, thank you.” She gave him a smile before tucking the knife into her belt.
“Here, let me help with that.” Jorg took the strip of fabric from Ingrid and gently wrapped it around her wrist and up over her hand, tucking it at the end to keep it in place. “That should hold for a while,” he said, but he didn’t let go of her hand, and she didn’t pull it away.
Never had her heart beat so fast, and as she smiled, an involuntary shiver rattled through her limbs.
“Are you cold?” Jorg asked.
Not waiting for an answer, he scooted around to Ingrid’s side and tucked her under his arm. Instant heat flushed her face as she enjoyed the sensation of his strong arm around her shoulders.
Unsure of how to respond, she sat very still until Jorg pulled her closer to him, and she let herself sink into his side. Letting her last view be the dance of the flames in the dark night, Ingrid closed her eyes, her heartbeat calm and steady, all thoughts of their situation or what lay ahead of them lost in the peaceful moment.
Twittering birds in the still, gray, early morning dawn teased Ingrid awake. Stretching, she yawned. She was thankful for the sleep, but stiff from lying on the hard ground. The birds were the only sound, as the rest of the group had not yet started to stir; even Jorg had found sleep at last, over on his own cloak.
When did you go back over there? A smile spread across her face as she remembered the feeling of being close to him.
She was eager to find a place along the river to wash. The odor coming off of her body burned her eyes like skunk vapor, and she felt sticky all over. Reaching out her foot, she nudged Jorg’s boot.
“Ingrid, it is not nice to wake a man who only just fell asleep.”
“Well, it’s not nice to tell a girl there’s a place to take a bath, and not show her where it is, either.”
He smiled before opening his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he sat up and stretched. “Is it only me that has to take this abuse? You’re just going to let those logs continue to be useless?”
She looked over at the other sleeping forms, then pumped her eyebrows at Jorg with a mischievous grin. She tossed Selby’s soiled apron over Hagen’s face, and then dropped to her knees next to Selby, giving her a hug.
“Good morning,” she said in a singsong voice.
Hagen and Selby both pushed from the ground in a hurry, muttering unkind words in her direction. When everyone was up, they kicked dirt over the fire, then followed Jorg into the bushes.
They reached the river about an hour later, and Selby announced that the girls would wash first; no one objected.
“You guys take off for a while, and find a good spot to build a fire, where we can dry our clothes and get warm.”
“Bossy,” Hagen said, turning back toward the way they came. “You’d better be wearing your clothes when we get back.”
Jorg laughed. “We’ll get the fire ready. Come on, Hagen. Let the princesses have their baths.” Hagen snorted and followed him away from the water.
Ingrid smiled, but wasted no time in getting her filthy clothes off and jumped into the freezing water.
“Oooh. This. Is. So. Cold,” she said between shivers.
“Wash fast,” Selby answered before scrubbing her face and neck while standing on the bank.
Ingrid scrubbed as well as she could and then pulled her soiled clothes into the water with her, doing her best to rub off the gunk. Climbing onto the bank, she slipped her wet shift over her head, then wrapped only her apron around her, not wanting to put the heavier tunic on before it could dry.
“Can you see through this?” she asked and turned a slow circle for Selby to look it over.
“That works. Hopefully the fire is huge so you dry fast.”
Grabbing Ingrid’s other wet clothes, they hurried back to the boys. High over the fire, a flat rack was already built and waiting to dry the clothes. The fire was burning well, and the girls crouched in front of it as soon as they arrived.
“Thank you for building this,” Ingrid said between chattering teeth, gesturing to the rack.
“We didn’t want to wait forever for everything to dry. It won’t be enough, but it will take the chill off,” Hagen said. Then added, “It was Jorg’s idea.”
“Oh good, for a minute I thought you had gone all considerate,” she teased.
Deciding that they should bathe as well, the boys headed to the water. Steam rose from the clothes as both girls stayed as close to the fire as possible. They’d barely warmed through by the time the boys were back.
Ingrid tried to avoid looking at Jorg, because the boys were wearing only their breeches. They carried their shirts over, laying them atop the fire with the girls’ things. Losing the battle and peeking through her hair at him, she felt her face warm, and she looked back toward the fire.
“Your face is red,” Selby whispered with a giggle.
“Shhh, it’s just the fire,” Ingrid answered with a grin.
“One hour, and then we leave, no matter what,” Hagen announced.
“Now who’s bossy?” Selby rolled her eyes.
True to his word, Hagen made sure they were dressed and walking north an hour later. Still damp, and now hungry, with no provisions, attitudes threatened to turn bleak until they found a large patch of bilberry bushes. They stopped to pick their fill.
Helped by the sweet fruit, they continued ahead, leaving the forested valley and entering the moors by early afternoon. Yellow gorse blossoms, bright against the soft, gray sky, dotted the rolling hills. Strong breezes bent the grasses in a dance and brought a fresh, clean scent into the air. Picking their way around boulders and through deep ravines, they made good time on the squishy, moss-covered ground.
As they climbed to the top of a gentle rise, smoke rose on the horizon in a puff of black and gray. The breeze brought the smell of burning wood and something else that Ingrid couldn’t quite make it out—or rather, she could, but didn’t want to believe it.
&
nbsp; “Do you think it’s a pyre?” she asked, fiddling with her beads.
“No, there’s too much smoke. It’s a whole settlement,” Jorg answered.
Keeping an eye out for invaders or worse, they approached the village with caution. They searched everywhere that wasn’t smoldering or still burning, which wasn’t many places. By the time they finished investigating, it was clear that all the villagers were dead.
A few lonely sheep and chickens wandered about aimlessly. The stench of burning flesh and wood filled their noses and stung their eyes. Most buildings were rubble, and there wasn’t anything they could do to stop the few flames that remained.
Whoever had done this was long gone.
Ingrid and her friends stood in what had been the center of the village, stunned and silent, listening to the occasional cracks and pops of the dying fires. The smoke in the air thinned out, making it easier to breathe.
“As awful as this is, we should try to find anything that can help us. Food, cloaks, maybe even a dead chicken or two,” Hagen said.
Ingrid and Selby looked at each other and nodded at him. “We’ll search this way, and meet you back here,” Ingrid said.
“Call out if you find anyone alive. It would be good to know who did this.”
They scoured the village. It felt disrespectful to be gathering the belongings of those still sprawled on the ground. Some were burned in their homes, while others had died from vicious looking stab wounds or broken necks.
No one wanted to talk as the group stood with their findings. Sitting down, they mindlessly ate some pieces of dried meat and hardtack while their nerves settled.
“Hagen,” Jorg eventually sighed.
“I know. Let’s get to it, then.”
“What is it? Get to what?” Ingrid asked.
“We can’t leave these people where they lay. They can't enter the afterlife until they have been buried and prayed over,” Hagen answered.
“Oh. I’ll help. I don’t want to walk away from here without doing everything we can.”
The Viking Maiden Box Set Page 12
