“No.”
He was so sure, Astrid did not doubt him.
“Get down, but stay close as you can. Within grasp. Sigurd may not be alone, and I dare not let you hide where I cannot see you. The trees are not safe.”
Astrid slid down his back and stood facing the opposite way to Bjorn, watching the far side of the clearing.
From the way Bjorn stood ready, muscles bunched, Sigurd was someone, something, to be feared. She wanted to ask him what he was, or looked like, but was terrified of making a sound.
Above the swish and sigh of the trees, the rustle of leaves, something ran from one of the trees at the edge of the clearing to another. So fast, once again Astrid could not see them.
Bjorn turned toward the sound, forcing her to turn too, to stay to his back. A low growl rumbled from his throat, making the hairs on the back of Astrid’s neck stand up. She shivered.
Another sharp burst of sound made her jump, and a sliver of tree trunk, twice Bjorn’s height, levered out from the pines and reached across the clearing for her. A giant stick insect man with a thin face and cunning eyes, its weathered silver hands sharp and pointed, like dead wood.
She cried out as Sigurd lunged at her like a stork strikes forward to catch its frog, and Bjorn spun, his roar echoing through the trees as he swiped at Astrid, knocking her out of Sigurd’s hands.
She landed hard and rolled to her feet, grateful the ground was thick with pine needles and spongy with autumn rains.
Bjorn had not spoken a word to his old subject, his teeth were bared and savage as he advanced.
She saw Sigurd freeze, his backward movement stopped, and knew Bjorn had enchanted him.
But with a cry he broke free of the spell and leapt, soaring up like a javelin over Bjorn’s head. A massive branch snapped from a nearby tree and was hurled by an invisible hand into the clearing, catching Bjorn a glancing blow to his hind legs.
Sigurd most definitely had tricks of his own.
And so do I.
“Come, wind, to me,” she whispered, and felt the first flutter of breeze against her face as Bjorn launched himself at Sigurd just as Sigurd leapt at him. They smashed into each other and Bjorn cried out as Sigurd raked him with sharp hands, then struck back with his own claws.
Sigurd’s shout of pain was the strange creak of a tree falling. He flung himself up, flipping in the air and arrowing down straight for Bjorn, hands out in claws.
“Stop him,” Astrid cried out, and the wind howled around the clearing, blowing Sigurd off course. Slamming him down into the ground.
Bjorn hurled himself onto Sigurd and stood over him, the pitch of his growl so low, so menacing, Astrid felt her arms pucker to gooseflesh.
A small ball of fire suddenly hovered in the air between them, and for the first time, Astrid saw Sigurd look afraid.
“Tell me why you do the troll’s bidding, even while you swear loyalty to me, traitor.”
Sigurd said nothing, his eyes on the flames that licked and leapt in the air.
Bjorn grunted. “It matters not. I could never trust you again, anyway.”
With that, Bjorn stepped back and the fire ball dropped onto Sigurd’s chest. It seemed to Astrid, unbidden by her, as if in revenge for Sigurd’s attack, the wind fanned the flame.
Sigurd shrieked, was engulfed, and the there came an answering cry from deep within the trees. Sigurd struggled to his knees, twisting in the heat and then fell, blackened and still.
Bjorn turned his attention to the direction of the other call. “Leap on, that was another yggren, and I cannot trust they are not in league with Sigurd. Even if they are not, I have killed one of their own, and they will not be happy with that.”
He crouched down for her, and she clambered on.
“What is an yggren?”
“They say they are the dead wood that dropped from the great tree itself.”
“Yggdrasil?” Astrid gasped. She was over her head in these circumstances. She wondered again what Bjorn was, the most powerful of these powerful, magical beings, and then wondered if she truly wanted to know.
“You were not harmed by me?” he asked her as he began to speed through the woods again.
“No.” She’d known why he’d knocked her out of Sigurd’s hands. If the yggren had started running with her, Bjorn would never have caught him.
“I see the wind still does your bidding.”
“Yes.” And it still surprised her. Somehow, there seemed no limit to how much aid the wind would give her.
“Why do you?” she whispered as the air swelled around them, seeming to speed them along. She looked back and saw a wall of dead pine needles, cones and leaves rise up like a wall between them and the clearing, blocking them from view.
“Why do you?”
Chapter Sixteen
The tall trees loomed over them and the late afternoon light filtered through, green and gloomy this deep in the forest. They were less than a day from Astrid’s home.
Even though she had never mentioned leaving him, Bjorn could not stop the dread that weighed him down. What did he have to offer her but the loneliness of an empty palace when before she’d had the constant company of her family?
She had not been his long enough for him to be sure of her. He had not bound her close enough.
And she was no meek miss.
She questioned everything and would not accept that he could not tell her, could not give her answers.
He found a clearing, protected by a thick stand of trees, and stopped early for the night, wanting to draw out their time together. Even though he knew it was dangerous to tarry.
“I would not like to bring my family into danger,” Astrid said, leaning back against him, sheltering in his bear’s bulk against the damp autumn chill that seemed to seep bone-deep. “Let us ask our questions and leave as soon as possible.”
“I agree.” Bjorn huffed out a contented sigh. She did not intend to stay behind, then.
“I suppose they have started spending your gold already,” she mused. “Freja would have asked for money for a house, so she and Jonas can marry. Tomas will also want his own house.”
He needed to be wary of Tomas. Of all of them, he held the most sway over Astrid, loved her the most. If he knew the truth, that Astrid was the touchstone in a power struggle, Bjorn’s only point of weakness and Norga’s only obstacle, he would beg her not to return.
“Please, promise me some things,” he said.
“My turn to swear some oaths?” He could hear a smile in her voice.
“Yes. Do not mention what has happened on the mountain to your family. I would have them know nothing of Norga and her plans.”
“I will swear to that. They would only worry if they knew the truth.”
“Is your mother afraid of me?” Bjorn remembered the way the woodcutter’s wife had looked at him, full of fear and anxiety, and already knew the answer.
“She is. She begged my father not to let me go. She said you could be anything.”
“Do not let her turn you against me.” He felt helpless at the thought of it. How could he compete with her mother’s influence?
“No one could turn me against you, Bear,” Astrid whispered to him. “I know your body better than I know my own. I know you keep your promises. I know you have a generous and kind spirit. I know you are courageous and brave.” She tangled her fingers in his fur. “And I keep my promises, too. I said I would go with you, and I will not go back on my word, no matter what my family asks of me.”
His heart soared, light as air. Free. Even becoming a man again had not felt as wonderful as Astrid’s respect and regard.
But still, Bjorn wondered if she knew how hard it would be to deny her family’s wishes, wondered how they would be received tomorrow.
Initially with dismay, he guessed. Her father and Eric would assume Bjorn had come to return her, and ask for his gold back.
If they hurt her feelings, if they made her unhappy, they would be very, very
sorry.
* * *
She knew Bjorn was nervous. Whether because he feared she would want to stay, or because they were so exposed to the mysterious and powerful Norga, she could not say. Perhaps both.
She was nervous herself. She was not the same Astrid she had once been, and her family would not be the same, either.
They had gold, but the price had been her. For some, that was a guilt-free exchange, for others, a burden.
“I want to get down and walk beside you, Bjorn,” she called as they neared the forest’s edge. She needed control, the ability to slow her steps, if this sudden fear within her became too much.
Less than four weeks ago this place had been her home. Now, as she slid down her lover’s back her hand trembled, and her knees felt like buckling.
“I can hear an ax,” Bjorn murmured, and Astrid stopped to listen.
At last, she heard it too. The rhythmic thud of metal on wood.
“I’d have thought they had no more need for wood chopping, with the gold you gave them.”
“Shall we see?” Bjorn asked her, and she nodded, relieved to delay approaching the house for a while longer.
It was Tomas, his hair a halo of gold in the sunlight as he swung his ax, shirtless even though the air was cool, the sweat glistening on his back. He worked with total focus, hypnotized by the rhythm of his actions.
Astrid’s heart lurched at the sight of him. Her handsome, strong brother, who had been her champion since the day she was born.
“Tomas.”
His eyes flicked to hers and he froze, ax over shoulder. With a cry, he buried the ax-head deep into the tree and ran to her, sweeping her up and holding her close.
“You are safe.”
She threw back her head and laughed in delight. “I am safe.” Her gaze went to Bjorn, and Tomas lowered her, reaching for his shirt hanging on a branch and slipping it over his head before he turned to bow.
“You have brought her back, Bear?” There was an edge to his tone, and Astrid realized he thought Bjorn was unhappy with her, returning her like used baggage.
“Only for one day. She missed you, and wished to see you again. We leave this evening.”
“Ah.” Tomas’ face was unreadable.
“We were on the way to the cottage, and heard you chopping. Do you still need the money, after the gold?”
Tomas looked in the direction of the house. “I chop because I cannot bear to sit around doing nothing.” He looked deeply unhappy. “I chop because every bite I eat tastes like sawdust, my new feather mattress feels as though it is made of nails and my new clothes are like sackcloth.”
“Because the price was me?” Astrid threw her arms around him. “Oh, Tomas. I am happy. Do not worry about that. It makes me sad to think you do not benefit from the gold, while Father and Eric do. Please, take some and build a house of your own. Get away from them.”
“Are you happy?” Tomas held her gaze, and despite herself, Astrid blushed. Nodded.
“I am. I live in a magical palace, where my every wish is granted.”
“And for company?” Again, she could not read his eyes.
“I have company.”
“But you are not gone four weeks and you seek ours again?” Tomas looked at Bear, and Astrid thought she saw an accusation in his eyes.
“Your sister is better treated with me than she ever was here,” Bjorn said, his voice quiet, the rumble of it sinister in the deep woods. “During the day, she is well cared for, and in the night—”
“What happens in the night?” Tomas cried out, looking between them.
“In the night, I am well cared for as well.” Astrid spoke without flinching.
“What have we done?” Tomas whispered to himself, rubbing a hand over his face, but Astrid would have none of it.
“At night, my Bear becomes a man, and comes to me as a husband. And I say again, I am happy.”
They fell into silence, and a robin started trilling its song again in the quiet.
“Come, the day is wasting.” Bjorn started forward, and Astrid could see from the way he looked from side to side he was nervous of their standing too long in the woods.
“Why do you not stay the night?” Tomas asked Astrid, and she shook her head.
“We must get back.”
Tomas hesitated, as if to ask her why, then casting a glance at Bjorn, he pulled his ax out of the tree and picked up a small bundle besides the trunk. She had a feeling he would try to ask her later, out of Bjorn’s hearing.
He waited for Astrid to walk ahead of him down the narrow path.
“I have to warn you. Things are much changed.”
* * *
Things were much changed.
The fields lay in untended disrepair, and a lean-to had been added to the house. Parked beneath it was a carriage, and a horse stood grazing on the carrots she had once been in such trouble for neglecting.
“The house looks the same,” Astrid said, surprised, her fingers clenching in Bjorn’s fur. She walked with her hand on his neck, a nervous gesture she could not help.
Tomas snorted. “They are building a big house in town. Work started on it last week already, and Father spends his days there, ordering the workmen about.”
“So Father will not be here?” Astrid was ashamed at the relief she felt. He could do nothing to her anymore. She did not have to endure his fists and his cruel words. She belonged elsewhere, now.
“I’m sure he isn’t. The other wagon is gone. He and Eric both wanted one, so they got two.”
“And Freja?”
“She is getting married. They announced the news two days after you left.”
She didn’t waste a moment, Astrid thought bitterly, then felt ashamed. How long had Freja waited already? And what would delaying the inevitable have helped?
“I am glad for her. I thought she might use her share that way.”
They were almost at the house, and Bjorn stopped. “Can I trust my lady’s safety to you?” he asked Tomas.
Tomas looked as if he’d been slapped. “You can.” His cheeks burned red.
“Then I will wait outside, let Astrid go in with you alone.”
“What will you do?” Astrid whispered to him, knowing he wished to give her time alone with Mother.
“Patrol around the house, and the woods. Make sure Norga did not work out where we went to.” He spoke in a low rumble, and she hoped Tomas had not heard.
“I will see you later, then.” She put her arms around his neck and laid her cheek against him, then stepped back. Drew back her shoulders.
As she turned, the door opened and her mother stepped out of the house onto the porch. She cried out, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. “Astrid.”
Astrid walked forward with Tomas at her side, and felt rather than saw Bjorn lope off again into the woods.
“Mother.” Happiness kicked up within her at the sight of her mother in a pretty gown, her hair up and a less desperate look about her. But when she got nearer, she saw her mother’s eyes were as pain-filled as ever.
“You . . . are back?” Her mother’s gaze fell behind Astrid’s shoulder, and she knew she was looking at Bjorn as he disappeared into the trees.
“Just for the day.” She drew her mother close. “We must go back tonight. My Bear has many duties, and was generous to bring me such a long way for a visit as it is.” She looked sideways at Tomas, and he looked straight back, unimpressed. He would probe further, she knew, if she let him. He would want to know what duties Bjorn had that were so pressing.
“Come in, and let me get you something to eat.” Her mother looked flustered as she drew Astrid into the house, as if embarrassed at the bounty piled on the old table.
Another who looks at all the gold has bought and cannot accept the price paid for it.
“I have said this to Tomas, and I say this to you, Mother. I am happy. I want you to enjoy what Bear’s gold can buy you. I want you free of worry, or I can never be.”
&n
bsp; “But he is a bear, Astrid. A bear.”
“Not all the time,” Astrid answered. “And bear or not, I love him already.”
“When you say not all the time . . .?” Her mother looked desperately at Tomas.
“She means at night he comes to her as a man. As a husband.” Tomas did not look away from her when he spoke, and the look on his face made her temper flare hot as a forge fire.
“Those were the conditions of my acceptance,” she cried. “I was to be wife to him in all but name, and I have honored that. And found contentment in it.” She paused, and looked him straight in the eye. “Joy, even.”
She watched his cheeks flush again.
“Do not look at me with your accusing eyes, Tomas, as if I have somehow betrayed you.” She clasped her hands before her, trying to still them in her agitation. “I did not see you following me to make sure of my safety. I did not hear either of you stand up to Father.”
Her mother began to sob, and Tomas put a hand on her shoulder. Shook his head.
“You are right.” His throat worked. “And I swear, there is not a day goes by that I do not regret that.”
“Cast your regret aside,” Astrid told him, sweeping her fine fur-lined cloak from her shoulders and setting it over the back of a chair. “I have none of my own.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Astrid, you must leave him. Come back to us.” Her mother laid down a plate of cheese and meat, bread and apples.
Astrid looked out the window at Tomas saddling the horse to ride to town and fetch the others back to see her, and took a bite of apple before she answered.
“It is too late, Mother. I am his. You know that. And I do not wish to leave him.”
“And some of the gold has already been spent.” Her mother plucked at her new dress. “Is he handsome, your Bear? When he comes to you at night?”
Astrid took another bite of apple. She did not want to tell her mother the details, but she found she could not lie. “I do not know.”
Her mother stopped fussing over the food and grabbed the back of a chair. “How can you not know?”
“He will not let me see him. He douses every light, and comes to me in the darkness.” Frustration rose in her again, just saying it.
Mistress of the Wind Page 7
