by Susan Wright
So I retreated back into the woods, seeking a pile of dead leaves in the midst of a grove of slender birch trees. Curling up in the cloak, I breathed deep of the mingled scents of Ansgar and Rosarin in the clothing. Finally I was still enough to let the night sounds wash over me.
But it was Lexander in my thoughts. He was in the haushold, perhaps looking through the diamond panes of glass and wondering how I fared. He loved me.
I slept little that night, alert to the sounds of the rising wind or the animals that crackled through the underbrush. I drowsed in a deep communion with the land, settling into the rocks and plants that the spirits enlivened. My fragmented dreams were frightening in their intensity, with Helanas emerging time and again. Sometimes I saw only her eyes, angry and malevolent. Or her hand, rising to strike me.
When I awoke, a miasma hung over the woods behind me. The evil spirits that infested Vidaris sent tendrils of hatred in my direction as if trying to draw me back in. I had escaped intact, not realizing until now the danger I had endured in their midst without succumbing to despair. Lexander had said his people were all like Helanas, a terrible thought indeed. What would happen to gentle Rosarin and brave Ansgar among them?
I shook myself, realizing that the demons were reaching ever closer. I gathered my cloak around me, heading upriver to find a ford I could cross. As I began to move about, the wisps of evil dissipated, and I could feel the land awakening under the rising sun.
A spirited olf, more bold than his fellows, appeared between my feet, tripping me again and again. Its white hair formed a halo around its head, and its dimpled legs and buttocks looked so rosy and fresh that I was heartened. Surely I was safe from the evil seeking me in this creature’s company.
I laughed at the olf, knowing that it was only testing me to see if I would become annoyed by its antics. Then I danced a bit, echoing its hop-skip rhythm. In delight, the olf led me to a downed tree that I could use to cross the river. It was high up between the banks as the water rushed through a gully, pounding against the submerged boulders. I wanted to crawl across for safety’s sake, but I knew the olf wouldn’t like my trepidation. The olf flickered in and out of sight as it scampered across, then back, jumping high before landing lightly on the peeling bark.
Once I reached the other side, nearly a score of olfs were darting through the air and skimming around me, glowing with light that sparkled with color. I was thrilled to have them near me, and I skipped down the lane, singing every song I could remember. I felt as if I could travel forever with them bounding along beside me. They showed me caches of nuts made by busy squirrels and forgotten over the winter. I recognized the tender greens I could eat from the bushes and plants that grew at the water’s edge.
In most places the lane was crowded with bushes and thick clumps of grass overgrowing the rutted wagon tracks. Birdsong filled the air, and the sun slanted cheerfully through the trees, drawing out the first buds of flowers in the meadows. The morning sun pulled the mist from the ground, and every hollow was filled with a fine white blanket of down.
I would like to think I sang and danced to honor the spirits and the gods, but Lexander was constantly in my thoughts. When I remembered him saying, “You are too precious to me,” it filled me to overflowing.
As the sun drew overhead, the lane curved over the top of a bluff, offering a view down into a small cove with a narrow valley beyond. It was another great estate, but unlike Vidaris, there was no protecting palisade to mark its borders. The ocean seemed impossibly blue, my eyes having become accustomed to the vegetation. Two longships were tethered at the dock, with people busy working on the beach and plowing the ruddy fields.
Neither of the longships had a red-striped sail, so they weren’t from Vidaris. I feared I would be stopped and questioned, but no one so much as turned to look as I passed through. The olfs cavorting around me must have blocked me from their sight. It happened that way with people who were willfully blind to the otherworldly creatures. One young child chortled gleefully, reaching out with a tiny hand as I went by with my merry band. Dogs barked and tried to chase me, but the olfs addled their brains and sent them off in the wrong direction.
I applauded the olfs’ antics, and more of them began showing themselves to me through the light, their merry grins and small legs upturned as they cartwheeled over the ground. Some wore flowers woven in their hair as I used to, while others decorated their chubby bodies with cords of woven grass, tied with bows like presents waiting to be opened.
When the sun began to sink, turning the clouds to deepest purple and flaming orange, the olfs lured me to the base of an enormous tree. I nestled down between two broad roots that rose higher than my prone body. The olfs slowly dispersed, attracted to the dreams of sleeping people. But I could sense a few that remained up in the top of the oak, swaying with the wind in the branches.
I finally fell into a real sleep. But I was awoken in the night by the qiqirn, a pack of wild dog imps that ran through the woods. They were yipping their high-pitched keen that froze their prey. I shook in fear as the qiqirn grew louder, whipping closer through the trees. A rabbit screamed as it was snapped up. I could only imagine what they would do to me.
The olfs in the treetops stilled to wait out the passage of the qiqirn. They were in no danger from the beasts’ razor-sharp teeth, but I was at risk because I was alone. The qiqirn fed only on solitary prey.
I covered my face within my hood and pressed against the oak, willing my mind to become wooden and treelike. I thought only of the shape of the leaves, of the warmth of sunlight on my limbs, and of sweet sap rising in the trunk and flowing into the smallest branches. I felt the flow as if it were part of my own body.
As the qiqirn descended in a deafening roar, the pack split to flow around the mighty oak. I am the oak, I silently willed myself. Rooted in the earth, reaching to the sky . . .
Then the qiqirn were past, and their eerie noise began to recede. My heart was beating too fast. Lexander would never have known what happened to me if I had been caught and devoured. I was very lucky they had not found me during my first night in the woods, when the birch grove would not have protected me as the powerful oak had.
Gratefully, I snuggled closer to the tree roots, falling into a deep sleep. If I could lie safely within the oak’s embrace while qiqirn roamed the woods, then I had nothing to fear.
Indeed, I’d little thought of the dangers when Lexander had asked me to travel alone. The next morning, sensing my fear, the olfs led me around the places where evil lurked, avoiding the shadowy mouth of a cave and a smelly sulfurous swamp. Though I was hungry, I wasn’t tempted to stop at the occasional farm we passed to ask for food. I wanted only to reach Brianda.
The olfs began to leave me by late afternoon as the estates and farms grew more numerous, with only patches of woods and fields between the clusters of houses. These were woodsy olfs, unaccustomed to people. I was sorry to see them go, but I understood and was grateful they had helped me through their land.
The third night, I crawled into a meadow where sheep had gathered. A pile of straw made a comfortable bed, and I was protected from the qiqirn by the sheep’s warm, furry bodies.
I gazed up at the cloudless sky with brilliant stars shining on the fields, and it all seemed so peaceful that I was lulled to sleep. But in the darkest night before the dawn, I felt a chill pass over me and awoke to see an adlet settling on a sheep. The poor ewe bucked and tried to get out from under it, but was quickly lulled by the poison in the adlet’s fangs. I heard the sucking noise as the adlet fed on the sheep’s blood.
Shuddering, I couldn’t go to help the ewe, knowing the adlet would turn on me instead. Once it drank its fill, it drifted up and across the fields, a blue-black shadow of shapeless form. The ewe settled down onto the grass, dazed by the loss of life force. I went over and gathered her close, giving her warmth so she could survive until morning.
The rain was falling and a heavy mist blanketed the land when I opened my
eyes. I was heartened to see the ewe tottering away, weak but alive. In Jarnby, we locked our livestock into byres at night to keep the adlets from sucking them dry. But that was the first adlet I had seen in Fjardemano.
I trudged through the cold spring rain, my boots soaked in the thick mud. Two curious farm olfs followed me for a while, dressed in colorful rags filched from a quilting bag. But I could not summon the spirit to dance for them. I hummed and sang when I could, but was too busy concentrating on the slippery mud. It wasn’t long before the last olf bade me good-bye and returned to its beloved home.
More people appeared on the road as the day wore on, with carts pulled by donkeys and horses ridden by freemen wearing brightly dyed cloaks. My own was well crafted and kept me dry, but my boots were sodden, squelching with every step. People talked around me, calling out to one another or giving short, angry commands to their animals. I spoke only to ask the way to Brianda whenever the road forked or crossed another path, letting nothing divert me from my task.
I was surprised out of my dreary slogging at the sight of the ocean. I had crossed Fjardemano and arrived on the leeward side of the island. As the sun struggled to pierce the low-hanging clouds that were gathering, I saw Brianda ahead of me.
A river emptied into the ocean, cutting through the slight rise. Within the river valley was the town. The buildings huddled close to one another, some sharing common walls. The busy harbor bristled with docks, and moored boats of all sizes rocked on the gentle sea. I could feel the mainland in the distance, just out of sight on the horizon.
My goal was to find a ship that could sail me to Tillfallvik. It was only midday, so I could reach Markland by night. Surely Silveta would take me in because of the service I did her last midsummer. Hopefully I wouldn’t have to wait long for Lexander to arrive.
I plunged down into the town. The warren of buildings and twisting streets confused me. I seemed to never get closer to the harbor. The echo of noise—shouts, horses clopping, rattling wheels, chisels falling on stone—rang in my head, making me long for the subtle sounds of the woods.
I stopped for a drink from a round rain barrel and was entranced by the tiny sprite living there. I bent over the dark pool crooning as the tiny fishlike sprite whispered back, until a woman chased me away, brandishing her broom after me. Her hair was tangled and hung around her lined face, but for all that, the sprite had said she was not old. Her red dress looked festive, but her apron was so soiled that Hallgerd would have beaten any slave who dared to wear it.
After that, I wandered around until I came upon a hand-cart piled with meat pastries. The man selling them had hands and a face that were gray with ground-in soot. The rich aroma of spices and mutton made my mouth water. I had gone too long without food.
Pulling out the packet of coins Lexander had given me, I found several slender silvers that looked much like the ones the people were handing the man. Holding one out gingerly, I waited until no one else was around before approaching him.
“What you want, girl?” he growled, looking me up and down.
I pointed wordlessly at the large meat pastries. He took the coin and tried to bend it. Grunting, he handed over two of the pastries into my greedy hands. I bit into the top one and let the juice spill down my chin. I filled my mouth gratefully, hardly chewing before swallowing.
“Get along with ye!” the man snapped, swiping at me with a large hand.
He missed me, deliberately perhaps, as I darted away. But I didn’t go far. The food absorbed all of my attention as I wolfed down the final bite of the first pastry.
Then I realized there were others watching me, mostly young boys and girls who gathered under the eaves of the nearby houses out of the rain, watching the cart as I had done. I took a bite of the second pastry, thinking some of them looked nearly as hungry as I was. The gleam in their eyes made me wonder if they would try to snatch the food from my hand.
A boy not three paces from where I stood edged closer to me. He was skinny and the rough clouts on his feet and short cloak were as gray as the stone walls around us, or I would have noticed him earlier. He was the same age as my brother.
I broke the pastry in half, holding out one end in my hand. “Take me to the longships in the harbor and you can have this.” It was the same sort of bargain I usually struck with the olfs.
He darted forward, snatching the pastry from my hand. I had hardly swallowed another bite before his half was gone, he ate so fast. His eyes shifted from side to side, watching as the others gawked at him enviously.
“Come on then, girlie,” he ordered, pulling his cloak closer around his waist as he set off. I hurried after him, noticing that his knobby knees were wider than his shins.
I could hardly keep up as he turned into alleyways I hadn’t noticed, and scampered up and across a roof and down a slippery ladder leaning against the wall. With the boy’s help, I reached the harbor in no time. When we appeared at the docks, he gave me a wave of his hand and left, much like an olf.
The docks were full of activity despite the falling rain, with people pushing cartloads and barrels of goods into the warehouses that lined the shore. Boxes and crates were piled everywhere, either waiting to be loaded or ready to be taken away. Bags of apples were stacked together in a pile under a canvas, the smell of them bearable only because I had stuffed myself with the savory meat pastries.
I went to the first dock and began asking the men working on the longships if they were traveling to Tillfallvik. Some were kind, but many yelled at me to get out of the way. I went to the next dock, ducking to avoid a group of oarsmen who were swearing loudly at having to return to work before nightfall.
At the third dock, an older woman directed me to a group of longships with painted hulls. “Theys go to the north, deary.”
Several of the large seagoing boats were packed for a journey, and in one oarsmen were napping under the canopy in the stern. A grizzled man lounged on the dock, leaning against the first mooring post with his legs stretched out. The drops of rain ran off the brim of his round leather hat.
“Are you going to Tillfallvik?” I asked.
He looked me up and down, smoothing the brown beard covering his face. “Mayhap. Who wants to know?”
“My name is Marja,” I explained. “I have to go to Tillfallvik. Tonight.”
“Ye running away?”
Startled, I replied, “No. I have to . . . see someone there.” His brown hands were as weathered and dark as the oars as he chafed them together, looking me up and down. I realized I was dressed much better than he. “A trip like that will cost ye, girl.”
“I have coins.” I pulled out the parchment and jingled the coins together.
The man stood up, suddenly interested. He peered into the folded parchment, his finger stirring the half-dozen coins. “This would be enough to take you there,” he said, fishing out the larger pieces and leaving me the two remaining silvers.
I tried to take the coins from him, but he shook his head. “Ye be careful, freya. There’s people here who would as soon shove you off the dock for your pains. If you’ve got coins, I can help ye, I can. Me name’s Finn, and I can make sure ye get to Markland, yes I can.”
Uneasily I glanced around, wondering which of the men were the ones he warned me about. “Where is your boat?” I asked.
“Here she be,” Finn replied, smacking his hand against the first longship. Its bright yellow hull was peeling and scraped, but it looked strong and ready for travel. The hold was packed with a mound of goods covered by a dirty canvas to keep the rain off. There was nobody inside. “Wait here for me, girl. I’ll round up me oarsmen.”
He held my hand as I stepped inside the great boat. The rain was falling hard, and I was glad to get under the canopy. I sat down wearily on one of the hard benches that crossed the deck. I hadn’t thought to ask Finn how long he would be. Slumping down, I hardly cared now that I had accomplished my goal. When I reached Tillfallvik, it should be easy to get to Silveta.
> Finn disappeared into the bustle of the docks.
It was some time before I roused myself, hearing a low giggle coming from under the dock. I was surprised to see an olf hiding there. It jumped out and hopped onto the mooring post, then onto a nearby crate. Unlike the innocent woodsy olfs, this one seemed as hardened as the sailors I had seen, with a knowing squint to its eyes. Nobody else noticed it, of course. But I watched its antics from my place in the longship. The olf was pleased to have an audience, and it made two sailors stumble as they approached. They muttered irritably, and I had to put my hand over my mouth to hide my smile. I knew I shouldn’t encourage the olf ’s mischief, but it was curiosity not malice that drove the creatures.
“Hey, you!” one of the men shouted, pointing at me. “Get out of there!”
They rushed toward me and I stood up, trying to assure them. “Finn told me wait here. He’s gone to look for you and the other oarsmen. I’m going to Tillfallvik with you.”
The taller man with a close-cropped blond beard jumped into the boat with me and took hold of my arm in a tight grip. “None of your tricks, now, girlie!”
The other checked the knots on the rope. “Nothing’s been bothered, mate. Looks like she was just taking a rest out of the rain.”
“Finn told me to wait here,” I explained again, thinking they hadn’t heard me. “I’m going to Tillfallvik with you.”
The man shook me, angry despite the other’s reassurance. “We’re not going to Tillfallvik. We sail for Hop this night. Now get out before I call the guards.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “But I paid Finn! He took my coins and told me to wait for him.”
The younger man gave a harsh laugh. “He was supposed to be watching our cargo. You paid him well for his trouble, I’m sure!”
I was pushed to the edge of the boat, and I stepped onto the dock back into the rain.
