Scars (Time of Myths: Shapeshifter Sagas Book 2)

by Natasha Brown

  It was not quite dark out. A gentle twilight touched the horizon. It wouldn’t be long before the sun came back up in full view to start another long day. Torin’s eyes combed over the hills and valley, searching for anything amiss. He couldn’t explain why he’d woken from his sleep, but through the years he’d learned to listen to his instincts.

  The soft calls from sea birds were absent. All was quiet, except for the undisturbed whistling wind moving across the landscape like an apparition searching for something unseen. Goosebumps rose on his chest. Torin lifted his nose to the air. They would see more clouds and rain today, he was confident.

  A noise carried on the breeze met his ears. He turned his head in the direction it had come from. A long, low howl moved up the valley from the sea. At first it sounded like the gales coming in from the ocean, but he knew it was something more. Torin searched for its source and found it.

  The black silhouette stood against the twilight. Its pointed ears and long muzzle were directed at him as it called into the night. The wolf stood on a bluff to the south of the farm like a rune stone. Torin’s fingers squeezed the hilt of his sword tight. Finally. The creature had revealed itself to him.

  He walked across the farm, set his blade on the turf wall and launched himself over it. Safely on the other side, he retrieved his weapon and continued to move toward the animal in the distance. Upon his approach, the wolf began to run toward the ocean cliffs and disappeared below a slope.

  Torin jogged to catch up, eager to end its life. This beast was responsible for hurting Ásta and damaging the land. He could not allow it to live. It was his duty to protect his home and family. Not only that, he wanted vengeance. He thought of the moment he’d reentered the bed closet on his wedding night when he saw Ásta gripping the knife in her hands, and remembered the expression on her face. Her agony had been clear. It was for her he would end the beast’s life.

  He slowed as he approached the slope where the animal had moved out of view. From there he saw a drop-off. The pale ocean horizon glimmered as the sun began to rise. He knew this place. Yesterday he’d climbed down to the nesting birds on the cliffs. A rocky face overlooked the distant beach below. Black stones disrupted the grassy bluff, and Torin searched for the wolf amongst them while he held out his blade as a safeguard.

  Movement drew his attention. A large form leapt on top of one of the rocky outcroppings. He turned to face the beast. Although it was standing on a tall boulder, he could see it was far larger than any fox or dog. As large as any man.

  A tingling sensation pulled at his chest and belly, one that set him on guard. Torin hadn’t expected to see an animal quite this size. He raised the tip of his sword, pointing it toward the wolf. The moment had come to prove his valor and might. He would not shy away from it.

  “I am ready for you.” He growled aloud, feeling his neck muscles tighten.

  The wolf’s eyes narrowed. A guttural snarl came from between its jaws. It pressed its front paws into the rock, reared its hindquarters and launched itself through the air at Torin. He stepped back toward the cliff, giving more space between him and the animal. The canine landed with a thump and pulled back its lips to reveal its pointy teeth, which were starkly white against its ebony fur.

  Torin steadied his sword and followed his own advice. The wolf would feel the bite of his steel if it tried to attack. He would do everything in his power to end the animal’s existence, but finding himself in that moment, he was afraid. There was no shame in fear. Only in running away from it would he be a disgrace to his name. And he would not run away from this challenge.

  He lunged toward the animal, aiming his sword for its breast. It scurried aside, all the while making more threatening noises. Torin followed the wolf, and they moved in a circle, wary of each other’s sharp weapons. The animal’s eyes focused on his neck while he wished he’d taken up his shield before venturing down to the bluff.

  They could continue like this until the rest of the farm woke, he thought. One of them would have to make a move, so he stepped toward the wolf to back it away. Keeping his eye on the creature, he lowered himself to the ground to pick up a stone. The animal watched him move and sank to its haunches, prepared to attack. Torin’s sword was lifted in a threat.

  He hoped the diversion would work and threw the palm-sized rock ten feet behind the animal. It smacked to the ground without a response from the wolf. Torin was baffled. He’d seen many dogs, foxes and horses for that matter, startle from a tossed stone. It was like it understood where the noise had come from.

  The wolf launched itself forward, and Torin reacted. He thrust his sword at the animal. It darted to the side, but not fast enough. The tip of the blade slipped by its chest, slicing its shoulder. Pink flesh was exposed beneath its black fur. While he was extended toward his foe, his hand was dangerously close to its mouth. Before he could withdraw, the wolf turned and sank its teeth into the wrist of his sword hand.

  “Ahhhh!”

  His fingers curled and his nerves lit on fire. The pain was unreal. He couldn’t hold onto the heavy steel, so the sword fell to the ground. The shock of the moment fell away as he realized he had to do something. He formed a fist with his free hand and hit the animal as hard as he could on the side of its head. His arm was wrenched aside in its mouth. Its hold loosened enough that he could pull himself free.

  The wolf shook its head and looked at him with the most hateful expression he’d ever witnessed in an animal. It limped toward Torin, who backed away from it. He glanced over his shoulder at the edge of the cliff. His sword lay behind the beast. There was no way to retrieve it now. He had no way to protect himself, and he knew it.

  With the wolf bearing down on him, he stepped to the edge of the drop-off. An ocean gale blew hard against his exposed skin. It whistled so hard in his ears it sounded like a woman’s scream. He knew he was close to safety. Torin cleared his mind from the pain in his wrist and thought of his fylgja while he threw himself from the cliff.

  Chapter 10

  Ásta woke with a start. Outside, the wind was whipping against the longhouse, although it was carrying more than vengeance. It was low, but she heard it clear enough to cause her heart to pound in her chest. The soft howl of a wolf. Her wolf.

  Because she was so used to waking alone, it took her a moment to realize Torin wasn’t lying beside her in bed. She sat bolt upright and threw off the blankets. Her feet touched the reed-covered floor. Without pause, she grabbed one of the woolen covers to wrap around her shoulders and opened the unlocked door.

  The hall was dark as it usually was. She peered through the rafters up at the hole in the ceiling. Dark blue hues were visible. It wasn’t yet time to get up to start the day. She looked around the room in search of her husband but only saw the sleeping forms of their farmhands. Ásta tiptoed across the length of the hall to the entrance and ducked down to let herself out the front door.

  The cerulean sky was growing lighter to the east. The sun’s brief rest below the horizon was drawing to an end. She tilted her head, straining to hear the sounds that had woken her from her slumber, but they’d gone silent. Ásta scanned the farm in search of Torin, but couldn’t see him. Then she tried calling out, “Torin! Come out!”

  One of the milking cows lifted its head and mooed at her. The rest of the farm was silent and still but for the whistling wind. The tendons in her neck pulled tight, and she had a hard time swallowing. She wanted him to come out from the smithy shed or to walk in through the gate, but he didn’t.

  Then another sound carried up to her. It was one she’d heard before. When she’d been pushed to the ground by the black wolf that was so much larger than her, those growls had pinned her in place. Now, they were carried by the gales from the south.

  She looked over the turf wall toward the ocean and cliffs in the distance. The fear that had twisted its way through her gut and up to her throat was replaced by her anger. Having tasted only a few moments of happiness with her new husband, she refused t
o let it get dashed by the beast that seemed so determined to ruin everything for her.

  She ran to the smithy shed to grab her practice sword. It may not have been sharp like the blade Torin carried with him, but it was something to swing. Ásta hurried through the gate and around the farm so that she could head south to the cliffs.

  Her bare feet carried her over the grass- and rock-covered valley. She didn’t care if the black stones cut at her flesh. She didn’t care if she was running to her death. Maybe then she’d find relief from the torture of her life. She’d had enough.

  Ásta reached a slope that overlooked the bluffs, which dropped away to the rocky cliffs, home of the nesting sea birds. Two bodies moved against the growing morning light: a dark wolf with pointy ears and the half-naked form of her husband. The glint of steel held in his grasp was thrust at the beast, but the animal moved aside.

  She watched in horror as it clamped down on Torin’s hand. She was unable to move or scream. Her worst fear was playing out before her. The sword once held by her husband fell to the ground, unable to serve its master in the grass. Torin hit the wolf, freeing his injured hand, but it was too late. The series of events that had led to this moment seemed stacked against them.

  Torin was herded to the edge of the cliff by the limping wolf. Tears fell down Ásta’s cheeks as she watched. Finally able to find her voice, she began to wail. “No!”

  She ran forward with her blade pointed at the wolf when something unexpected happened. Torin turned toward the sea and threw himself from the bluff. He dropped from view, and Ásta dropped to her knees, feeling her face pinch into a grimace. She struggled to find breath through her sobs.

  The wolf turned with a raised head, its gaze falling on Ásta. Through her tears, she saw its toothy sneer. She held the hilt of her sword with both hands and pushed the tip into the earth to help herself off the ground.

  Her crying turned into bitter anger, and she returned the wolf’s wrathful glares. The beast trotted with a limp up the slope. When the wolf was twenty strides away from her, it stopped. Its lips raised into a frightful grin. Guttural noises reverberated from its chest and out its mouth, almost like it was laughing at her. Then it ran away to the east, following the coastline. In moments, it had disappeared.

  Ásta didn’t give the creature another thought. She rushed down to the cliff’s edge, to the last place she’d seen her husband alive. The rocky shore couldn’t be seen, for a heavy fog had blown in from the sea. Birds called from their nestled homes on the black precipice and she could hear waves lapping on the rocks far below. Standing in the same place she’d found her father and brother’s lifeless bodies brought painful memories back. Her anger turned to sobs as she tried to find footing to climb down. The salty air coated her face and mouth, or maybe she’d bathed herself in own her tears.

  Before she could descend farther, movement caught her eye. A white gyrfalcon swooped over her head and landed on the grassy bluff an arm’s length away. Its round black eyes focused on her as its wings were tucked against its body. The surprise she experienced from its sudden appearance was nothing to the moment when it grew before her eyes. Feathers disappeared until only pink flesh and blond hair remained. He held his hand out to her with a look of concern, yet she was unable to move.

  “Give me your hand. Come away from the cliff,” Torin said with urgency.

  Ásta stared at him, unable to take in his words. She was still trying to understand what had just happened. Was it some kind of enchantment or spell?

  “Ásta!” Torin growled.

  She met his eyes. They were the same blue jewels she’d been mesmerized with the moment she’d seen them. He appeared to be the same man she’d married and shared the intimate moments with behind the smithy shed.

  A loud wave crashed far below her, and she realized she was perched precariously on the edge of the cliff. She reached for Torin’s hand, allowing him to pull her to safety. They stepped away from the rim of the bluff. A loud swishing sound filled her ears as her heart thundered away in her chest.

  She stared at her husband, who was standing naked before her. She’d never seen him in his glory and couldn’t help but admire his chiseled form. Could he be an Æsir or Vanir?

  He avoided her curious stares and muttered, “I am safe. And I am not to be feared.”

  She lifted her hand and let her fingers trail along his jaw, checking to make sure he was real. Ásta swallowed and nodded, trusting in her husband’s words.

  “You had the guise of a falcon and removed it like one takes off a cloak,” she said in disbelief.

  “It is how I saved myself from that beast.” He looked over his shoulder at the coastline, his eyes narrowing.

  “It was him, the same creature who gave me this,” she said, touching her cheek. “Fenrir.”

  Torin’s hair whipped in the breeze. She felt his gaze fall upon her. The muscles in his jaw flexed. “That may be. But even gods can be killed.”

  “Is that what you are?” she asked softly. “Have you been sent by Odin to protect me?”

  He didn’t answer immediately. His eyebrows furrowed. He was clearly deep in thought. “I have sought the meaning behind my gifts from Odin and have not found an answer. Maybe I am being tested because I was found lacking. I will honor my oath to you, though I could not with my father. My duty was clear.”

  She gazed at the ocean, now a bright pane of reflected light. Clouds could be seen to the north, moving quickly on the wind currents. This was her ancestors’ land. It put her thoughts at ease knowing how deeply he felt about his duty, but for some reason she couldn’t understand, she felt disappointed too. Did she want more from him? An enduring love that pushed him to protect her?

  It didn’t matter. His partnership was enough for now. She returned her gaze to him and noticed his hand. Ásta frowned as she reached for him. She turned both his wrists over to study them close up. “I saw you injured in Fenrir’s jaws. Where are his bites?”

  He let her continue to examine his unmarked skin. “It must be healing spells, for when I am injured and then change my body’s shape, I am as I was before. The wounds do not follow.”

  She stared at him in amazement. She had only heard rumor of such things happening to people, but had never known it to be true. A gust of wind blew the blanket she’d wrapped around her shoulders out, and she realized he was still standing naked beside her. “You must be cold,” she said and pulled the fabric from her body to put it around him.

  He touched her hands while he took it from her. “The cold does not bother me, but I do not mind a covering to enter our home. I will look for my trousers later. I wish to get you safe inside.”

  Torin folded the blanket and wrapped it around his waist so it wouldn’t drag on the ground. He picked up both of their swords and took a step up the hill. Ásta hurried to keep up, trying to avoid the rockier patches of earth. He held out his elbow and forearm to her so she could hold on for support. Together, they climbed barefoot along the valley toward the farm.

  By the time they reached their home, Ásta was exhausted from the excitement and lack of sleep. They entered their bed closet, locked the door and returned to their bed. Torin wrapped his arms around her and traced the length of her hair from her temple to her back with the tips of his fingers. As much as she wanted to replay the events of the early morning, she couldn’t fight the weight of her eyelids.

  Torin watched her sleep the rest of the morning until sounds of movement could be heard through their door as the farmhands got up to start their day. The thoughts swirling around his head had kept him from getting rest.

  He didn’t fully understand what had occurred on the ocean cliffs near the farm. There were a few things he was certain of. He’d spotted the black wolf for himself, and it was just as large as he’d been told. It may not have been the size of a bear, which was the largest land animal he’d ever seen for himself, but the wolf far overshadowed any dog or fox. Its eyes were not hazel or brown like he would have ex
pected, but a deep blue gray like the sky on a cloudy day.

  What disturbed him was the strange sensation he’d felt when he was near the animal. The same feeling he experienced when he prepared to take the form of a bird was triggered at his core when he drew near the wolf.

  A boom of laughter sounded from the other side of their door, interrupting his thoughts. Ásta’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked around the room, then up at Torin. Her voice came out gravelly and soft. “Is it late?”

  She adjusted in bed while he answered, “The others are up.”

  “You should have woken me.” She swung her legs out from under their blanket and sat up with her back to him. “I will go warm some milk for you.”

  Ásta busied herself getting dressed and prepared to leave the room. He watched her fasten her smock’s brooch, then proceed to pull her long golden hair into a braid, which she looped into a bun at base of her neck. She avoided looking at him as she unlatched the door and stepped out.

  He couldn’t tell if she was acting differently. She’d witnessed him drop from the sky and turn back to his human form, something he’d never imagined would happen. No one had ever so much as suspected that he could take the form of other animals. His unique gift had allowed him to become the best falconer and trapper in the south. It was a talent he was protective of and thankful for, but he did not know why he’d been given these powers, so how could he explain it to her?

  Torin sighed and sat upright. The blanket fell into his lap, exposing his bare skin. He searched for his tunic on the floor. Finding it, he put it on and located a dirty pair of trousers. Fully clothed, but likely a mess to behold, he combed his fingers through his hair before walking into the hall.

  The air was smoky from the cooking fire. Elfa used a leather glove to pull away a heating stone and slipped it into a drink bladder. She called over to him, “Mistress asked me to prepare you some warm milk. Come sit, and I will pour you some.”