Thick, dry tears burned the tip of Kallan’s nose.
“Our cries carried over the massacre of Austramonath when we found what our father had done,” Rune said.
Kallan stared, lost in what to say.
“It was in a fit of berserker rage that my father spilled that Dokkalfar blood,” he continued. “When he came to, he realized what he had done and killed himself in hopes of rescinding his crime. He killed himself when his dead wife failed to utter words of forgiveness.”
Stupid understanding, the kind that leaves you feeling small and insignificant, left Kallan wordless as Rune held her gaze.
“I am not my father’s son,” he whispered.
Kallan forced down the unease in her stomach.
“What will you have me do?” she said, fighting back the tears that swelled with regret from the blood lost.
“Believe that I did not kill your father.”
CHAPTER 56
Kallan stared across the cold coals at Rune, who gazed back from the other side of the finntent. The strange, sporadic honk from outside was faint. The second honk was louder and accompanied the strange staccato of a series of quacks along with a kind of clicking that grew by the minute.
“Boar?” Kallan asked, perplexed, keeping her voice low.
“Too late in the season,” Rune said.
“Not boar,” Bern said, pulling on his boots and taking up the rope next to him where Halda still slept. “That’s reindeer.”
Quietly, he crept across the tent.
“If we get to the lake before we find Halda’s kin, we’ll be without horse or cattle,” Bern said.
The quacking and clicking grew louder until the noise was too loud to continue whispering from across the room. From beneath the furs, Rune scrambled to his feet, keeping low before crouching down at the door beside Bern, who peered outside. More than nine hundred reindeer surrounded the camp, pulling at the lichen on the ground, honking and grazing, while others lingered at the river for a drink. The incessant calls of reindeer grunts were as deafening as a hundred wild boar rooting about in the ground, and, with every step of every leg, there was a distinct click.
“There must be a thousand.” Bern studied the herd packed into the valley enclosed by the mountain.
“The gorge doesn’t give them much place to run,” Rune said, looking at the high walls of forest on either side.
Bern nodded.
“The only escape is back the way they came.”
“Could be confusing should something leap out at them.”
Eager to make his exit and launch his battle upon the prey, Bern readied himself to lunge like a king into battle.
“Let’s go get one,” Bern said, rallying his lone legion.
Enlightened with an epiphany, Rune clasped Bern’s shoulder.
“Let’s get two.”
“What are you doing?” Kallan asked, putting a temporary end to their discussion. As she propped herself up, she peered at the men bouncing with eagerness on the balls of their feet.
“Hunting,” Rune whispered and took up his quiver, which he fastened to his belt.
“Alright,” Bern whispered, “but I’m roping mine. Halda and I can use it for hauling.”
“Fine,” Rune said, loading an arrow into his bow. “So long as I get to eat mine.”
Bern unraveled the rope he was rearing to throw.
“Ready?” the Ljosalfr asked, preparing his bow.
“Ready.”
Throwing back the hide flap, the men charged the herd, releasing their battle cries and sending four black wood grouse into flight followed by their calls. The reindeer bolted, making slow progress as the herd of ten hundred all picked a direction to run and promptly went nowhere. The few who succeeded in rearing up, landed their front hooves onto another’s back, while those along the outside edge managed to make it around the herd.
By the time Rune had dropped his pick of the bulls and administered Freyr’s blessing, Bern had roped a large, six-pointed female reindeer, a cow of abundant stature. Panic had taken her and she ran circles around her captor, limited by the confines of the rope tangled in her antlers.
“Easy now…Easy,” Bern soothed.
Rune grinned at Bern’s lassoed reindeer.
“Come on now,” he said. “Mine’s behaving rather nicely. Get yours in order.”
Bern pulled in the rope for less give, as the cow changed directions.
“Mine is a bit more nervous than yours,” Bern said while affording a glance to the dead bull.
Bern’s reindeer tried to leap, desperate to rejoin the herd that had sorted themselves out and bolted.
“Sh. Sh. Sh,” Bern hushed. “Easy, girl. Easy.” But she persisted and Bern allowed her the room to change her direction and circle again until she had run herself to exhaustion.
Only then did Bern shorten his leash, hushing and reeling until he was close enough to touch her.
“Easy, girl,” Bern whispered, stroking the fur already thickened for the winter ahead. His fingers sank into the coat up to the first knuckle. Save for the prominent patch of brown that covered her shoulders and the curve of her back, her body was white and contrasted her black and brown face. Her antlers, still covered in a thick coat of velvet, had not yet begun to shed. Holding her head down, the reindeer heaved. With mouth agape, her tongue hung to the ground as she panted to regain her breath.
“Easy.” Bern gently patted her shoulder.
From the finntent, Kallan and Halda watched as Rune cut the bull open and began the process of preserving the blood for storage while Bern administered another run of hushes.
* * *
The delay cost them well over two hours in which they collected the blood from Rune’s bull, fashioned a second harness for Freyja, and strapped the carcass to the crude sled to be harvested later at the lake. Once Bern secured the final strap around the finntent, they were off with the cow in tow.
Too soon, the sun passed overhead with too little road behind them. By late midday, they pushed through the last of the river, walking as they ate fruit, berries, and salted meats. Before the sun vanished behind the last mountain, the light of day touched down on the waters of Lake Aursund.
“The Raumelfr.” Bern pointed to the west where the lake stretched on. “It flows from the lake there.” He shifted his hand to the southwest. “You are exactly where you’ll need to be for tomorrow.”
Nothing but lake could be seen, spanning the distance.
Eager to find a clearing to secure camp for the night, they moved toward the edge of Aursund, but before they had advanced five paces, Bern’s arm flew up.
“There,” he said, pointing to a single pillar of smoke rising from the ground.
Rolling earth buried in lichen extended over the land, save for a distinct line of smoke that billowed from a hill of moss. Rune and Kallan narrowed their eyes and gazed upon the fireless smoke emitted from the ground. Hoping for an explanation, Kallan looked to Bern as Rune studied the smoking knoll.
“Halda,” Bern called, but she had already seen and was off. Flying the rest of the way to the mount, Halda ran on ahead.
“The Finn didn’t migrate and plunder to settle on this land,” Bern said, tugging the reindeer alongside him after Halda. “They were born here long before my elder father’s elder father explored these parts.”
“Aed ‘ne!” Halda cried. Her voice was barely audible in the distance.
“Long before the high king ruled your Alfheim,” Bern said, “the Finn had mastered this land. Their culture flourishes here, untouched by kings who usurp the rule of jarls. They are indifferent to the laws set by outsiders and hold no regard for our Thing.”
Halda was almost at the smoking mound when she called again.
“Aed ‘ne?”
“They have their own laws to abide by,” he said, “their own gods to answer to, but you’ll find, in most cases, they have no need for such things as laws. They live for the Nature, and abide by Her ways.”
“The smoke,” Kallan asked, still eyeing the top of the hill where the pillar billowed at the base.
“That,” Bern said, nodding to the knoll, “is a gamme, much like the finntent here, though not exactly portable.”
As Bern and the Alfar drew nearer, it was easier to make out the earthwork that could only be a makeshift hut formed out of earth. Years of overgrowth had camouflaged the abode completely. If it had not been for Bern’s explanation and the smoke, they would have passed it by without notice.
Out of the earth, a wooden door lined with moss flew open. Swaddled in thick fur clothes matched with fur hats and moccasins, two tiny girls with ebony hair hanging free to their waists emerged from the ground. In a blur of white and brown reindeer fur, they bombarded Halda’s legs in a swarm of hugs, all the while giggling.
Halda scooped up one of the girls and squeezed her back. Bern and the Alfar made their way across the various reds and greens of the ground that rolled up and over the gamme.
“Their homes are built from the earth,” Bern said as one of the girls holding Halda’s legs released a high-pitched squeal of delight. “The inside is braced with planks of birch. The earthen roof and mud walls are lined with moss, holding the fire’s warmth.”
A sudden, sharp bark laden with softened syllables silenced the giddy girls as a woman emerged from the smoking moss. With hair flowing freely, her round face and high cheekbones matched the girl’s with a deep nose bridge set between their eyes. Their eyes, like Halda’s, were as blue and as clear as the Lake Aursund.
Keeping their distance, Rune halted the horses as happy tears flowed down Halda’s face. In a soft dialect sharpened by the occasional consonant, Bern called out to the women and children, his cow in tow behind him.
Curious to see what the ruckus was about, a man emerged from behind the gamme with four reindeer, the sixteen knees all clicking with each step. The man had tied back his long, ebony hair, adding definition to his round face. A deep nose bridge matched his wide brow. At nearly six feet, he stood beside a young boy, no more than four winters, with hair that shone in the sun’s light like black water. Save for a hat, the boy wore the same browns and whites as the giggling girls, and held a bucket as wide as his shoulders.
With a grin, Bern ruffled the boy’s head and released a rush of fluid words. Calling to the gamme, the man smiled, giving a firm slap to Bern’s shoulder, all the while exchanging the same fluid dialogue Rune and Kallan could only guess to be salutations. More words accompanied smiles and happy tears when Bern swept his arm in Kallan and Rune’s direction.
Silence fell over the dwelling, leaving behind the quiet wind and a single click of a reindeer’s knee. It was a long while before the Finn man spoke, emitting a single decipherable word.
“Alfar.”
With eyes still fixed on the Finn, the creek and closing of the wood door broke the silence, drawing their attention to an elder woman standing in front of the domicile. With black hair streaked with white and aged lines etched into her face, the elder woman stepped to embrace Halda, and Kallan gasped.
With hunger, the Beast rose to attention while Rune stared dumbfounded at the elder woman. Seeing what only Kallan could see, he snatched Kallan’s arm as she made the substantial effort to stand. Like he, she battled her breath steady as they gazed at the golden light that weaved its way through and around the elder woman. Mesmerized, Rune stared, knowing the Seidr lines he felt, the lines he knew Kallan saw.
With a second glance, the elder woman stared back at Kallan then Rune, just as enthralled, just as dumbfounded, as if she was unsure which of the two Alfar fascinated her the most. And, all at once, she burst into a smile and exploded into a round of unfamiliar syllables. She exclaimed, clasping her hands, and made her way over to Rune and Kallan.
With a warm greeting matched with a smile, she extended her arms and embraced the Dokkalfr, the top of her head barely reaching Kallan’s shoulders. Halda smiled as fluid sounds flowed from the elder woman’s mouth. With a laugh, the elder woman reached with her frail fingers and took up the elding tri-corner knot hanging from Kallan’s neck.
“She’s happy to know you,” Halda said, refusing to budge from the place beside the younger woman. With a great affection, the elder woman turned the charm over before releasing it to rest against Kallan’s skin.
“This is my elder mother, Sarahkka.” Halda grinned, her eyes still ripe with tears. “She is our Naejttie.”
Kallan ran her hand through the lines Rune felt through the Beast, who growled impatiently but didn’t move. The lines flowed around the woman and gave way, twisting around Kallan’s wrist as Rune fought to ensure the Beast—ever ready, ever hungry—obeyed. Enraptured, Sarahkka laughed.
“Naejttie,” Kallan whispered as if remembering something.
Sarahkka nodded with a delighted grin that became a long, warm laugh.
“Naejttie,” Kallan repeated. “She’s a Seidkona.”
“I thought humans had forgotten the Seidr,” he asked.
“They did,” Kallan said. “I mean, I’ve never seen—”
Sarahkka clasped her hands in jubilation and buried her old fingers into a hide pouch tied to her side. It wasn’t until her bony fingers vanished into the pocket of fur that Rune even noticed the pouch.
While speaking excitedly, Sarahkka withdrew a small, white seed, and, cupping Kallan’s hand, dropped the seed into her palm. In a tune much like Halda’s song, the Naejttie mumbled a rhythm with words. The Beast within Rune stood and roared. Unleashing its hunger, it reached and slammed into Rune’s will. He held it back while he felt Sarahkka’s Seidr strengthen and move into Kallan.
In wonder, Rune watched Kallan stare as the Seidr encompassed the seed as if cradling it. The seed coat swelled then split, and a root emerged, extending out into the world until its leaves formed, pushing back the husk as they opened. Like spring follows the winter thaw, the sprout reached toward the light of the setting sun, oblivious to the cold that would soon blanket the world.
As her incantation ended, Sarahkka grinned and the Beast calmed, allowing Rune to relax his will.
The sprout’s leaves rustled in the breeze, and as Kallan studied the veins of green flowing with gold, she gasped and curved her mouth into a smile.
“This is the Seidr,” Kallan said, still eyeing what Rune determined was the Seidr he felt encompassing Sarahkka.
“What is?” Rune asked, squinting and trying to see what Kallan saw.
“You don’t see?” she asked, tearing her eyes from the Naejttie.
At once, he realized how close she was. Her eyes glanced at his mouth. When she raised her face to his, he studied the wonder that brimmed in Kallan’s gaze.
“She wasn’t always like this,” Halda said from beside the woman. “Only after we came to this land many harvests ago and found the Seidi—”
“Seidi!” Sarahkka exclaimed.
“Seidi?” Kallan said and, with a fresh wave of enthusiasm, the Naejttie launched into an onslaught of syllables neither Alfar could understand.
After a slew of phrases, Sarahkka lifted the sprout from Kallan’s hands and placed it onto the ground. Her withered palm folded into Kallan’s and she pulled, urging the Dokkalfr to follow. But a worry visibly took hold and, digging her feet into the ground, Kallan snatched Rune’s hand with the same conviction.
Sarahkka turned back and glanced at Kallan’s hand interlocked with Rune’s. With a series of fervent nods, she burst into a new fit of laughter. Waving her hand, Rune and Kallan could only interpret her actions as an invitation to follow together.
* * *
Rune walked alongside Kallan as she pushed her way over the moss and molehills, one hand yanking free her skirts that caught on the shrubs and branches as they walked and the other clutching Rune’s hand as if afraid to let him go.
Sarahkka continued her excited monologue five steps ahead as she led them into the trees. She stopped once or twice and burst into laughter she quelled wi
th a shake of her head. After a moment, she restarted speaking in a language neither Kallan nor Rune could understand.
The trees thickened until a forest had formed, forcing them to slow their pace and the Beast within Rune paced. Kallan stopped pulling her skirts free, and began holding back the low hanging branches as they pushed their way through the wood.
After several minutes, Sarahkka stopped, giving Rune and Kallan time to catch up. They stood, taking in the surrounding area. The gamme, the horses, the reindeer, and Finn were far from sight. With a smile, Sarahkka uttered a few words and placed a twisted finger to Kallan’s mouth then pulled back the last of the thick branches. Pushing aside massive fronds, as tall as two Alfar, Sarahkka stepped into a vast clearing, waving Kallan and Rune to follow.
Kallan and Rune eyed the foliage, taking care to run their hands up the firm, slender leaves as wide as their hands. The Beast hastened his step. Rune reasserted his will. With difficulty, Rune and Kallan took their turn bending the fronds away and joined Sarahkka in a moss-covered clearing encased in tall pines and peppered in slender birch, where a brook flowed from a wall of bedrock. With their hands still clasped together, Rune and Kallan took one look at the ground before them and gasped.
Plum marsh orchids that could fill Rune’s palm climbed giant stalks. Blossoms of martagom lilies hung from their stems like large luminescent floral saucers. Toadflax and hop clover, made gold by the Seidr light emerged in bunches throughout the clearing. Bouquets of oblong blossoms, vibrant pink, protruded on a single stem. Each bloom elongated a span and was cocooned in a white, silk webbing that covered the plant from the ground to the tips of each rounded blossom. And ferns—grand, green ferns, more than two men in height—filled every corner, every crevice of the clearing.
Interspersed with the flora, oversized butterflies with wings of smoky cobalt blue, wings painted iridescent greens, and white wings dabbed with abalone, fluttered about the massive blooms. At the base of the trees, red spotted mushrooms clustered around fungi with pristine caps and stems. Both varieties, as long as a man’s arm, glowed gold in the Seidr light. Along the brook, a pair of dippers dipped and dove into the water and emerged after a minute with their beaks clamped on over-sized water insects and larvae. Among the foliage and flowers, red squirrels as large as ship cats scurried about the trunks of the conifers. Tufts of fur extended off each ear, and their tails, twice the length of their bodies, trailed behind them as they scurried up and down the tree like Ratatoskr.
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