The Viking Maiden Box Set

by Kelly N. Jane

  Deep and quivering, she couldn’t reach it. Her head pounded too hard to concentrate. She was going to die under that bush, unable to heal herself. Blood dripped down her back and over her ribs. Tremors began to shake her arms and legs as she sank deeper into the ground cover.

  When something nudged her leg, she kicked out and tried to fight, but the pain was too much. It mercilessly slammed into her, bringing the contents of her stomach up into her throat. All her efforts to stay calm were then forgotten with the fight to stay conscious.

  “Ingrid, it’s me,” Jorg’s voice called out in a low raspy tone.

  The tears she’d held back sprung forth, and she wriggled out from the bush. Her hair caught, and the branches scraped against her face, but she forced herself to ignore it.

  “It’s going to hurt, but I’m going to pick you up now, okay?”

  Ingrid let her eyes close as she nodded and took slow breaths through her nose to brace herself. Though his arms were gentle, she still bit her lip hard enough to taste blood. As soon as he had her settled as best as he could in his arms, they were quickly moving through the trees and didn’t stop until they were in a small clearing under a large oak tree.

  Jorg lowered himself to the ground and kept Ingrid cradled in his arms. She couldn’t say anything or move for several minutes while she willed herself to push away the pain. Her powers still reluctant to heal her.

  “We need to make a poultice or something to stop the bleeding.” Selby’s worried voice penetrated through Ingrid’s addled mind. “We should look for some yarrow”

  “I’ll be okay. Let me rest a minute, and I’ll fix it.” Suggesting she needed the helpful herb only made her more intent on healing herself. The pain was so intense that Ingrid huffed a laugh, unsure if she had spoken out loud or if she was starting to dream.

  Maybe I’m having a vision, and this isn’t really happening.

  “It’s real, Hjarta. Stay still and rest. Let us help you until you regain your strength,” Jorg whispered against her temple.

  He was right, she knew, but she wasn’t going to lay there like a helpless child. No matter how many times he called her ‘my love,’ or how hard it made her heart flutter.

  Ingrid concentrated on all the warmth she could muster from her center and pushed it toward her left side. Unlike when she’d healed others, she had to direct the energy instead of following it. Beads of sweat rolled down the back of her neck as she pushed. Her shoulder and back blazed with heat, and she clamped her mouth tight as she struggled to keep from whimpering.

  When the pain subsided enough to let her relax and Jorg’s arms no longer hurt where he held her, Ingrid opened her eyes and looked around. A pair of green eyes with swirls of gold stared back at her. Jorg’s forehead was creased deep in worry, and she smiled.

  I’m better. You don’t need to worry.

  His chest rumbled, and he shook his head. “Have you healed yourself instead of resting?”

  “I did enough for now.” She didn’t want to admit how much trouble she had drawing on her powers. Ingrid twisted to look over her shoulder at Selby who crouched next to them. “Are you all right? Did you get hurt?” She faced Jorg again. “Did any of you?”

  Selby huffed a laugh. “No, we are all fine. Not a scratch on the rest of us. You concentrate on yourself. Your tunic is a bloody mess.”

  With her good arm pinned next to Jorg, Ingrid couldn’t twist enough to find where the gigantic paw landed against her. “If we come across a creek, I should wash it out, so it doesn’t stick to me.”

  I need to sit up on my own, please.

  He pressed his lips thin but helped Ingrid to move off his lap and lean against the giant oak tree. Ingrid spotted Plintze sitting farther away and silently wringing his hands in his lap.

  “Plintze, did you get injured?”

  “No. I’m fine,” he growled. “I lost my pack. I’m going to go search for it.” He stood and stomped away before anyone could stop him.

  “Are we far enough away from the bear? Should you go after him?” Ingrid asked Jorg.

  “We’re at a safe distance, and his pack is next to that tree over there. I think he’s embarrassed because he ran.”

  Her brows furrowed. “He shouldn’t be. That beast was huge.”

  “He’ll be fine. He just needs a minute to soothe his temper. I’m going to get a fire started. You’re shivering,” Jorg said before standing to gather sticks.

  9

  Ingrid couldn’t remove the chill that had settled deep inside her. It was as if her whole body had grown as cold as her hands. The power coiled in her middle was at rest.

  Maybe I’m just drained from my injuries?

  Her back, from shoulder blade to waist, still ached. The wounds had closed completely, but she hadn’t been in any condition to take care of everything. While she sat, huddled toward the flames, she reached inside of herself and called upon her abilities. The ball began to uncoil, but then fell back into place. The warmth surged forward and then disappeared.

  “What’s wrong?” Jorg asked and scooted closer to her.

  “Nothing.” Ingrid bristled at his concern as pressure built inside her head. She was trying to figure it out for herself and not having an answer struck a nerve.

  It was still early, barely past midday. Plintze returned after Jorg had the fire going and offered Ingrid a pouch of water. He’d found a rushing little creek not far away, and the crisp cold water had soothed her throat but added to her sense of cold. He also had a handful of yarrow.

  “There’s more by the creek,” Plintze said and handed it to Selby’s outstretched palm.

  Selby crawled forward and sat on her knees in front of Ingrid, fidgeting with the plants in her hands. “Maybe we should find that creek and wash your wounds. That tunic is probably stuck to you by now, and it’s going to hurt if it’s pulled away without soaking it in water first.”

  The idea of leaving the warmth, made Ingrid shudder, but she nodded.

  “We can all go. You’re not in a position to help Selby if something comes at you,” Jorg said quickly with an arched brow.

  Ingrid pressed her lips tight. He was right; she would be a hindrance to Selby in a fight in her condition and possibly get her friend killed. Ingrid silently growled at her own weakness. The tension woke the dark ooze in her mind which flowed from one temple to the other as if swaying to a slow drum beat.

  “Whatever you need to do. Selby, let’s find that creek.” Ingrid stood and refused to wobble, although her legs threatened it.

  The oak tree was a solid hand hold as Ingrid reached out for it. A sense of peace soaked into Ingrid’s fingers as the rough bark under her palm pulsed with ancient wisdom. It gave Ingrid a sense that they were not alone in this forest.

  Plintze led the way as they headed to the creek. “You two stay back here. We’ll be done when we’re done,” Selby said and waved her hand for Jorg and Plintze to keep guard while she and Ingrid trudged down the embankment to the small rush of water.

  While the pain was tolerable and the skin was sealed closed, Ingrid still felt the ache of her muscles. Bruises pulsed below her skin. Several ribs had broken, which she’d only set together but not completely healed. Nausea rattled her stomach when she moved, making her wish she’d stayed by the fire.

  “Which do you prefer? The shock of cold water or the sting of your tunic pulled from your skin?” Selby asked as they reached the creek’s edge.

  Ingrid stared at her for a moment and then looked around. “Which one would make me seem the bravest?” She chuckled more to herself than anything, but she hissed from the pain it added to her ribs. “I’m so tired, Selby. Can you make the decision for me?”

  Ingrid huddled by the fire after dressing in a spare, dry tunic from her pack and wrapping herself in both her own cloak as well as Jorg’s. After the humiliating tears she’d spilled while Selby cleaned her back, she wanted nothing more than to warm quickly and head out on the trail again.

  Selby�
�s touch had been gentle. In fact, the experience had reminded Ingrid of her mother—focused and determined, yet kind—as her friend had cleaned and then pressed mashed yarrow and hazel against her wounds. But the process had drained her further, and she needed to rest.

  Jorg sat next to her, but she could see the worry on his face and how his hands would rise and then fall back to his lap when he wanted to pull her close. It seemed he was afraid to touch her and cause more pain.

  Even though the herbs felt good against her skin, it bothered her. Why can’t I heal myself?

  “Maybe it has something to do with what you did to the bear? It could have drained you more than you realized,” Jorg offered in answer to her internal struggle.

  “What do you mean? What happened to the bear?” Ingrid twisted to give him her full attention.

  “As soon as it swiped you, it fell backward, roaring and snarling like it was in pain. It kept shaking its head and wobbled like it was drunk as it tried to run away.”

  “It even left the carcass,” Selby added.

  “There was . . . something . . . like a flash behind my eyes.” Ingrid shook her head. It didn’t make sense, and there was no way she was going to figure it out on her own. Her huff was enough to tell the others she was done with the discussion.

  “I’ve been thinking. We are helping you search for Eir—or waiting for her to find us, possibly—but I don’t even know what she looks like,” Selby said, breaking the silence and changing the topic.

  “She’s tall and slender with long brown hair and pale blue eyes. Beautiful, but very serious.” Ingrid spoke while she stared into the flames, remembering the goddess she’d met before when traveling in Jorvik. “When she stood in front of me, power radiated from her.”

  “As tall as me or taller, like Jorg? Because, well . . . everyone is tall to you.” Selby chuckled as she poked the fire and added a few sticks.

  Ingrid twisted her mouth to the side to attempt a look of annoyance. In truth, she couldn’t help but enjoy Selby’s teasing. It kept her from being lost in her own thoughts and stopped the dark influence from sending her into a bad mood.

  “She never told you where to meet her?” Selby’s expression was more curious than frustrated.

  “No. She said I’d find her when the time was right.” Ingrid shifted and tried to stretch, wincing as she moved.

  “Eir is a goddess. When she wants you to find her, you’ll find her.” Plintze’s calm voice interjected. Other than the “humph” at Selby’s short joke, he hadn’t said a word since they’d settled by the fire.

  “Mama told me she was a norn and a valkyrie, too. I wonder if she lives in Asgard? Will she take me there to train? Have you met her before?” Ingrid’s voice pitched higher as she assailed the dwarf with questions, only a few of the many clogging her mind.

  Plintze stared at her and raised his bushy eyebrows when she stopped talking. “I don’t know,” he said slowly and deliberately.

  “But you know who she is. Why haven’t you said anything before? Have you met her?” Ingrid was getting agitated, and her headache returned in force.

  “Eir is the goddess of healing, a handmaiden of Frigg—”

  “What does that mean? The gods are immortal. Why would they need a healer?” Selby interrupted.

  “Immortal beings can die with the right weapon.” Plintze huffed at Selby’s question before turning his attention again to Ingrid. “Most of Frigg’s handmaidens wait for a summons when needed. Eir is independent, from what I’ve heard. I’ve not met her, but basic education for dwarven younglings teaches about the other realms.”

  “I’ve called for her. Why hasn’t she come?”

  “How would I know the will of a temperamental Asgardian?”

  Ingrid nodded and let his words sink in. “I can’t wait for whenever she chooses to find me.”

  Act strong, be strong.

  The runes felt heavy in the pouch on her belt. Dagaz and Thurisaz; home and protection. There had to be a way to force the uncooperative goddess to show herself.

  Several days later, after trekking through the underbrush along more wildlife paths, the group came upon a wide road at the edge of the trees. Old, abandoned Roman roads criss-crossed the countryside, and it was a relief to leave the prickly brambles and constant shade behind.

  A variety of non-vital topics passed as conversation while the group strolled along. Selby carried most of the discussion, as usual.

  When the sun dipped low on the horizon, a clearing opened into a great view of the fells. Rounded hills full of green were sprinkled with yellow gorse and periwinkle, lilac, and pink wildflowers. The sun’s rays cast a scenic glow over everything.

  “Those don’t look difficult to pass. Not much different from where we graze the sheep.” Selby’s face softened into a dreamy, faraway gaze.

  Plintze grunted. “We should find a place to camp and eat before it gets too dark.”

  “Yes, let’s not allow the dwarf to get cranky. Except, we’re too late,” Selby teased.

  Ingrid giggled and squeezed Jorg’s hand and tugged him forward. “Let’s get to the base of the hills before dark.”

  When they topped a small hollow, flickering campfires dotted the view, and laughter could be heard in the distance. Everyone halted and stood as still as startled deer, straining their ears to listen.

  Distracted by Selby’s chatter, Jorg had neglected to heed the sounds around them, and Ingrid could see how much it bothered him.

  We’re far enough away and safe. Everything will be fine.

  He glanced at her and released a long breath through his nose, although his muscles stayed tight.

  “Should we go around?” Selby asked.

  “Humph.” Plintze growled, the rumble in his chest abnormally aggressive. “Something’s not right.”

  “We should get a look and find out who they are,” Ingrid said.

  Bile rose in her throat as the memory of the dagger in the woman’s chest popped into her mind from the last time they’d encountered strangers on the path. The eager pressure of the tarry substance inhabiting her brain, rolled in delight.

  Before they could step off the path to circle the group ahead, two men broke from the brush to stand a stone’s throw in front of them.

  One man called out words that made no sense to any of them.

  Immediately, Jorg, Plintze, and Selby fell into a fighting stance, while Ingrid held her hands forward. An unfamiliar, yet comfortable, tingling sensation buzzed through her palms, and they warmed like when she healed.

  The men raised their weapons slightly at the response, but the same one spoke again.

  “Dia dhuit.”

  Different from the first time, the language was still strange, and no one understood their words.

  “Hello there,” the man called again, this time the words were recognizable, but the accent was thick.

  “Hello to you,” Jorg called back, glancing over his shoulder at Ingrid. “Saxon,” he whispered, and she nodded without taking her eyes off them.

  The man leveled his gaze at Jorg but kept sneaking quick glances toward Plintze. His companion openly stared at the dwarf. A growl came from deep inside of Plintze, and Ingrid lowered one hand to his shoulder, which made him shift his stance and calm slightly. She doubted the men could see Jorg’s ears with their distance and the fading light, but she kept at the ready just in case.

  “We are traveling and have stopped here to rest for the night. From where do you hail?” The offered information held a friendly tone, but the man’s expression stayed austere.

  Woolen cloaks draped the men, but leather greaves covered their shins, and shields peeked out over their shoulders. The armament of warriors. Their hands remained concealed, poised to draw their swords.

  “From west of Jorvik,” Jorg answered without giving further information.

  “Norsemen? What brings you this direction?” The men stiffened, and the one who spoke lost the casualness in his voice.

&n
bsp; “This is still Danelaw territory. What brings you through these lands?” Jorg asked.

  The man staring at Plintze shifted on his feet nervously, occasionally darting looks to the rest of the group and his companion.

  They’d stayed ready for attack while Jorg spoke with the strangers, and the warm energy that spread through Ingrid continued to tingle in her fingers.

  “We had business in Mercia and now travel back toward home in Ireland.”

  The men took a few steps forward, and Jorg raised his hand. “It’s best we keep our distance. Consider it a safeguard. A recent altercation has us quick to draw weapons. Since your companion can’t take his eyes off my friend here, I believe it might be in all our best interest to leave each other be.”

  Ingrid peeked at Jorg as he spoke. He stood so tall and proud, speaking with authority and keeping them all safe. Part of her loved what he was doing, but another bristled at herself for not taking the lead. The internal battle stirred up the darkness oozing in her mind.

  Act strong, be strong. With a deep inhale, she forced her mind to clear and ignored the pressure as she straightened her shoulders.

  “That’s understandable, however, you are welcome to join us for a meal and warm yourselves by our fires. I’m sure you must be weary.”

  “Why would you make such an offer to a group of strangers?” Jorg asked cautiously.

  A hint of something resembling amusement in crossed the man’s expression. “You don’t have an army hiding in the bushes, do you?”

  Jorg pinched his brows together. The muscles in his arms flexed as he clenched his fists by his side.

  Ingrid leaned toward him, enough to brush her hand next to his. He knows we don’t.

  Jorg shot Ingrid a sidelong glance and exhaled. “No, just the four you see here.”

  “Then our prince—”

  His companion snapped his head toward the man fast enough to interrupt his speech.

  “And our king,” the man added hastily, “would expect us to offer hospitality. We insist that you join us.”