Corpse in the Mead Hall

by Cate Martin

  "Look out!" I cried. The tall man spun and caught Geiri's wrist.

  But there was nothing in his hand.

  "Let me go!" Geiri hissed. The tall man released him with a little shove. "You had no call to do that."

  "Didn’t I?" the man asked him with a sneer. Now that I was closer to him I could see he was not as young as I had thought. He certainly moved like a young man, and one with martial arts training at that. But his weathered face was deeply wrinkled, especially around his green eyes.

  There was something awfully familiar about those eyes. It made me think of Thorbjorn for some reason, but they weren't the same shade at all. Was this a brother of Valki, perhaps?

  "Who are you?" I asked him.

  He looked at me in surprise. But he just shook his head. "No. This isn't the time. Please excuse me."

  Then he just left, walking back to his cabin and going inside with a resounding slam of his door.

  It was a good thing I had that scarf covering my entire face, because I would look pretty silly standing there with my mouth gaping open otherwise.

  "His name is Frór," Geiri told me, making me jump. I had forgotten he was there.

  "I don't know that name," I admitted.

  "He thinks he's in charge here," Geiri said with a great deal of bitterness in his tone. "But no one is in charge here."

  "No, I gathered this was a pretty loose community," I said, but my eyes were on his hands. "You had something before. Where did it go?"

  He opened both of his mittened hands to show me he was hiding nothing. "You can pat me down if you like. I have nothing."

  "Then why did you...?" I broke off, miming the stabbing motion he had made before.

  But he just shrugged. "It was a stupid thing to do. In my defense, I didn't know you were there watching me. I just needed to vent a little."

  "That's very aggressive venting," I said.

  "I didn't have anything in my hand," he insisted. "Look, I'm sure you know I'm the new one here. I'm only here now because my entire life on the outside world fell apart pretty dramatically. I came here to have a little peace and quiet to process. Not to be micromanaged by the man who could've been king."

  "That guy was a king?" I asked, looking back over my shoulder towards his cabin.

  "No, he was never even close to being made king. We don't have those here," Geiri said. "He just thinks he should've been king."

  "I get that you think he's bossy," I said. "What was he trying to tell you to do?"

  "Nothing," he said, too quickly. Well, I suppose it really was none of my business.

  And yet, something didn't feel right.

  "Do you mind if I take you up on that pat down?" I asked him.

  He looked at me like he thought I was crazy. Maybe I was. "I'd rather you didn't touch me," he said at last.

  "I won't have to," I said. "Just stand there."

  I fished through my pockets. I came up with a stub of pencil and the card that contained my rune. I turned the card over and drew a hasty sketch of Geiri on the back of it.

  I was peripherally aware of his mood morphing from annoyance that I was delaying him to curiosity at what I was doing. When I finished my sketch and put the pencil away, he came around to stand at my shoulder and see what I had drawn.

  "Nice likeness," he said appreciatively.

  "Thanks," I said, only half listening to him. I let my eyes drift out of focus and waited for anything hidden in the pencil sketch jump out at me.

  At first I saw nothing. Then I noticed an image in his shadow on the snow behind him: a literal fish out of water. I chuckled.

  "What?" he asked.

  "Nothing," I said, putting the card back in my pocket. "You're all right."

  "Thanks?" he said uncertainly.

  "My name is Ingrid," I said, thrusting a hand out at him. "My grandmother Nora is the volva, and I'm sort of the volva in training."

  "Oh, of course," he said and mimed slapping his own forehead. "I saw you just an hour ago coming up the path with Loke. I guess I didn't recognize you without him."

  "I'm about to leave town for a week or so on a hunting trip," I told him. "But I'll be back here in this hamlet to pick up some books from Signi first thing when I get back. If Frór is still hassling you, let me know then and I'll see what I can do."

  "I'm sure that won't be necessary," he said. "I'm just having a bad day. Lots of bad days. I'm sure I just took what he was saying wrong."

  "Well, just in case. I'll be here," I said. "But right now I'm running late."

  "Please, don't let me delay you," he said.

  "It was good meeting you," I said, although to myself I thought "interesting" was probably the more appropriate adjective.

  I gave him a smile he could in no way see through my scarf, although perhaps my eyes hinted at it. Then I set off back towards my own cottage in the forest. I felt him watching me leave, or thought I did, but when I turned back at the edge of the hamlet to wave to him, I realized he had gone.

  I was alone.

  4

  The lonely feeling faded as I left those silent cabins behind. I was once more in a forest filled with life. I could sense it all around me, even though it was far too cold for birds to be singing or squirrels to be out of their drays.

  But it wasn't just the smaller forms of life I was feeling. Those little creatures were all around me, but there was also something else, something more focused.

  As I walked alone through the woods, I sensed a presence following along behind me. And I had that tickling feeling on the back of my neck, like I was being watched.

  I couldn't just look back over my shoulder, not with my parka hood up and my hat down low over my eyes and all those layers of wool wrapping over everything. No, I had to stop walking all together and turn completely around to peer out of the slit for my eyes I had left in the layers of my scarf.

  I had thought perhaps someone was looking out one of those cabin windows, watching me trek away from their hamlet. But I had already left the cabins far behind. There was nothing to be seen behind me but trees, snow, and my own footprints. No one could possibly be watching me.

  But the minute I turned back and started walking again, that feeling of being followed returned, even stronger than before.

  I kept walking, step after step through the snow, but inside my mind was racing. I double-checked my own magic, and I wasn't glowing or drawing anything to me. I was absolutely sure of that.

  But whatever I was sensing behind me? That was clearly magic of its own.

  No one in that collection of cabins should be able to use magic. They hadn't been able to when they left Villmark; I was certain of that. Only my grandmother and I and Halldis had any ability with magic.

  But what if someone who had left had learned magic out in the modern world?

  That was a chilling thought. I knew for a fact there were other kinds of magic. My friend Tlalli from México had an Aztec magical lineage. And I knew there was an Irish woman in Duluth who also knew magic. There had to be more. But how many? How prevalent was it?

  The people of Villmark might not be able to use magic themselves, but they knew with certainty that it existed. If they left for the modern world and encountered something mystical, they would know better than to just dismiss it out of hand.

  I suddenly had a lot more questions for my grandmother. But she was in Runde. She might as well be a world away from me now, forbidden as I was to go back to Runde.

  In the meantime, that feeling of being followed was creeping up the back of my neck something fierce. It wasn't just magical power I was feeling. No, this felt like real malevolence.

  I knew what that felt like. Halldis had been filled with it. But for once, I didn't suspect her. This malevolence was quite different from what I had felt coming off of her.

  It was more... masculine? Was that possible? Every practitioner of magic I knew was a woman, some kind of witch, but I knew so few I didn't want to assume that warlocks weren't a thin
g.

  Trollmenn. That's what they were called. From the stories, I had always assumed they were more common than volvas like my grandmother and myself.

  But that was in the old world. What would a trollmann be doing in the woods so close to Villmark? It had to be some new presence, or I would've sensed it before.

  That thought sparked a sudden panic in my mind, and I immediately stopped walking.

  What if it was following me back to town? What if I was once again leading trouble towards my people?

  I had to do something. But what?

  "Ingrid! Hey, Ingrid!"

  The voice rang through the surrounding trees, directionless, but that wasn't as unnerving as it might sound, because I recognized that voice. It was my friend Nilda, and soon her sister Kara was calling my name too.

  Then I saw them through the trees ahead of me, running up the path towards me. The clearing and my cottage were just behind them, and that clearing was filled with people and horses and sleighs piled high with sacks of supplies.

  "We were looking for you!" Nilda said as the two of them reached me.

  But I didn't answer, because I was looking back again. Whatever had been behind me, so close behind me it had been running its spectral tendrils up my spine and sending magical shivers all over my body, it was gone now.

  I closed my eyes and expanded my senses, but there was no sign of anything out of the ordinary anywhere around me. It had disappeared without a trace.

  Which wasn't comforting. Had it come from the hamlet, or had it just crossed paths with me near there? Until today, I had never been in that particular part of the woods.

  "Ingrid?" Nilda asked. I could hear the beginnings of worry in her tone and forced a smile as I turned back.

  "Sorry, I thought I heard something," I said, but waved it away as nothing. "Never mind. I thought I was meeting you all in Villmark, though?"

  "You weren't there," Kara said. Her voice was flat, not giving me any hint to what she was thinking or feeling. Just as it had been for weeks now, since the night Thorbjorn had left to fight off the fire giants.

  "Loke said you'd gone this way," Nilda said. "So we figured we'd meet you here and save some time."

  "I packed, but my bag is still at home," I admitted.

  "We've got it," Nilda said. "Mjolner too. He's sleeping in a nest of furs in one of the sleighs."

  "I didn't even know he was planning on coming," I said. I wondered if he had sensed what was behind me in the woods, but quickly decided he couldn't have. If he had, he would've been at my side. He was still in super-protective mode after barely saving me from Bera and her wicked stone-throwing arm.

  "We should get going," Nilda said, gesturing back towards the sleighs in the clearing. "We want to get to the lodge before sunset, and we have a long way to go."

  "Sure," I said, and followed the two of them back to my cottage.

  Thorbjorn was staring off to the north when we emerged into the clearing. For a moment he looked just like a Thor I had drawn in ink once, guarding the world of men from incursions by the giants, staring off into the distance as he waited for them to approach. He had the same faraway look in his eyes. He even had his hand resting on the handle of the axe hanging from this belt.

  But then he turned at the sound of our approach, and a wave of relief washed over his face, so intense I felt a twinge of guilt.

  Nilda whispered something to her sister, then pulled her towards one of the sleighs. Thorbjorn waved an arm in the air and the other sleighs started moving out of the clearing, to the west but more to the south than where I had just come from.

  "You thought I went that way?" I said to Thorbjorn, pointing to where he had been staring off towards where he had taken me before, to the mountains that were visible to the north even though they existed in Old Norway.

  "I wasn't sure where you went," he said. "Loke wasn't clear. He only assured me that you were perfectly safe."

  "I was. Perfectly. I was with Haraldr," I said. Did he know about the hamlet? If anyone in the village outside of the council knew, it was the Thors. But just in case he didn't, I decided not to mention it now. Instead, I said, "he's been teaching me how to hide my magic from the senses of others."

  "Oh," Thorbjorn said, taken aback. "How's it going?"

  "Good, I think," I said. "I don't know how long I can keep it up, though. Or if I'm still tamping down my glow when I'm sleeping. So I'm not ready to spend any nights in my cottage yet. More's the pity."

  I touched the doorframe of my cottage with its subtle carving evoking the great lake's waves in the wood. The previous owner had been an artist. Wood had come to life under his tools, whether it was a statue of a bear or a troll or just a suggestion of water like in that doorframe.

  I longed to spend more time in this home that hadn't belonged to my ancestors, that was just mine. But I was supposed to stay in town, in that ancestral home my grandmother had moved out of decades before.

  But this cottage would still be here when my control was better.

  "We should get going?" Nilda called to us from where she and Kara were bundled together in the back of the sleigh.

  "Right," Thorbjorn said. "Let's go. We can shout a few introductions once we catch up with the others."

  I climbed up into the sleigh and settled in among the piles of furs, careful not to jostle Mjolner, who was curled up at my feet.

  Thorbjorn got in on the other side and flicked the reins. The sturdy horses in front of us took off at a brisk trot and we were zipping through the forest, the blades of the sleigh singing over the frozen snow.

  And despite the cold, I smiled and then laughing in delight. There was more than one kind of magic in the world. This moment, like a winter postcard come to life, was definitely one of the good kinds of magic.

  5

  It wasn't long before we caught up with the other sleighs racing through the trees, the bells on all the harnesses ringing brightly through the cold air.

  "I wish it were warmer," Kara grumbled from the back seat. She was slouched low under a thick fur blanket, only her blue eyes visible from under the fur brim of her hat.

  "It'll warm up tomorrow," I said. "Although it's likely going to snow in the next few days."

  "How do you know that? Magic?" she asked. Again her tone was so inflectionless I couldn't tell if she was teasing, or attacking, or just asking for information.

  I opted to assume the latter. "I have an app on my phone," I said. "I checked the weather forecast before I left Villmark this morning. I assumed I wouldn't be able to get any bars out at the hunting lodge."

  "You assumed correctly," Nilda said. "But I'm glad to know it'll get warmer. I like the cold, but the last few days have been a bit much even for me."

  "Are you warm enough now?" Thorbjorn asked, glancing back over his shoulder at the two sisters buried under furs.

  "We're perfect," Kara said, although the fact that only her eyes were visible made her a little less than convincing.

  "Introductions," Nilda reminded Thorbjorn.

  "Right," he said, looking around at the other sleighs. "That one," he said, pointing to a sleigh painted blue and silver, pulled by two white horses. "That's my parents and Thorge and Thormund. But you've met them all before."

  "Not your mother," I said.

  "Are you sure?" he asked.

  "Positive," I said.

  "Her name is Gunna. You're going to love her," Nilda told me.

  "I hope so," I said. I had to admit I was a bit nervous about that. I got on well with Thorbjorn's brothers, but I wasn't sure their father cared for me at all. Valki was on the council, and most of my interactions with him had been in that capacity, so it was a little hard to tell. After all, I hadn't thought Haraldr liked me much before we had started working on the runes together. Maybe spending time together in this less formal setting would make him regard me a little more warmly.

  "And over there," Thorbjorn said, pointing beyond his parents' sleigh to a larger sleigh p
ulled by six horses, "that's my mother's sister Jóra driving the team. Beside her is her oldest daughter Freyja and Freyja's husband Manni, as well as their son Martin."

  "He's just a baby," Nilda said. "Not quite one."

  "I guess that's why I can't see him from here," I said.

  "Sitting behind them is my cousin Freydis and her husband Yngvi. They're newlyweds."

  "Yngvi looks familiar," I said. Trees kept passing between our two sleighs, and we were dozens of meters apart, but I was sure I knew that strong, slightly hooked nose.

  "You might have seen him at Aldis' mead hall when we were there with Loke," Nilda said, barely over a whisper. As if he might overhear us from so far away over the sounds of the horses and the bells.

  "Oh, right," I said. "Loke mentioned something about that. That the men here are the kind that don't mix with Runde."

  "No one is going to be rude to you here," Thorbjorn said darkly.

  "I know you'll look out for me," I assured him.

  "Forget about that," he said with a laugh. "If they are anything less than cordial to anyone while under my mother's roof... Well, let's just say her temper is legendary."

  "Oh," I said, not sure how to react to that.

  "It's her place," he said, as if a question of ownership had been what had tripped me up. "Her and her sister's. They inherited it from their parents. It's been in the family for generations."

  "Who's in the very back of that sleigh?" I asked. I could see three women huddled together, much like Nilda and Kara were behind me.

  "The youngest of my cousins, Freylaug, Freygunnar and Frigg," he said.

  "Jóra and all her daughters run a bakery together on the east side of town," Nilda said. "We don't get to see them much these days, since they’re so busy with their bakery. But when we were kids, Kara and I hung out with them all the time. They're great."

  "And that sleigh?" I asked, pointing at the red and gold one pulled by a pair of brown horses that was off to our right. Then I recognized the man holding the reins. "Wait, that's Roarr."

  "Correct," Thorbjorn said. "And that's Sigvin beside him."