Timeless

by Thacker, Shelly

  “But not everyone,” she said.

  Not you. She could tell by his voice, had noticed it before—that trace of bitterness. Of yearning.

  It occurred to her abruptly—jarringly—that she and Hauk had much more in common than she had ever suspected. She knew all too well how it felt for someone of independent, adventurous spirit to have that freedom curtailed.

  How would it feel to live like that for three hundred years?

  Something inside her knotted with pain as she remembered the books she had found in his vaningshus. Written in his youth, he had said. He must have longed to travel those distant lands. It must be torture for him, leaving now and then for a few days, enjoying a glimpse of the wider world, of freedom, only to be forced to return. She was amazed he left at all.

  Then she remembered that he had told her he had to leave now and then, as part of his duty as vokter.

  “Not everyone is happy to stay,” he agreed quietly, glancing toward his boat moored in the cove. “We are Norsemen, after all. Exploration and wandering are in our blood.” A muscle flexed in his lean jaw. “But those who have given in to temptation, who have tried to test the limit of six days, have paid with their lives.”

  The gruffness of his voice made her guess that included someone who had meant a great deal to him.

  Her throat closed. She had once assumed that Hauk lived alone in his clifftop vaningshus because he preferred it that way, because he was reserved and solitary by nature.

  But that was not true. He had shown her this afternoon—and many times before—that that was not true.

  And mayhap he had not always been so solitary. So alone.

  Josette’s hesitant voice filled the momentary silence. “And what about us?” she whispered. “H-how long will we live?”

  A shadow of discomfort passed over Hauk’s features, as if he had dared hope that question would not arise. “Not long enough,” he said, almost too faintly to be heard.

  Avril could not speak. Dampness filled her eyes.

  Hauk turned to face Josette and answered her quickly, stoically. “On Asgard, your lives will be longer than normal. You will reach mayhap seventy-five years, and you will retain your youth and health for much of that time.”

  “And after that?” Avril whispered.

  He did not look at her, kept his gaze on Josette. “Only those born on Asgard are innfodt, native-born. Anyone brought here later in life remains utlending. Foreign.” After a moment, he added, “Mortal.”

  Josette looked at Keldan, who sat waiting, tense, regarding her with hope and desperation in his eyes—and another emotion that Avril recognized, though she was not certain Josette could discern it.

  Love.

  “But why bring us here, if you will only outlive us?” Josette demanded of him accusingly. “Why not marry one of your innfodt women?”

  “It is an ancient tradition,” Hauk explained. “When that first band of explorers—twenty men—discovered the island’s healing qualities, they did not wish to spread word of this place, which would invite the entire world to their doorstep. And since they were a long way from home, they decided to follow the Norse custom of the time and—”

  “Go and steal themselves some brides,” Avril said dryly. “From somewhere closer at hand.”

  He nodded. “Unfortunately, Asgard’s founders enjoyed only a normal, slightly longer life span. It was the children of those couples, the first generation born here, who were the first innfodt. They were the first who did not die, and when they reached thirty, they stopped aging.” He paused, glancing out over the sea. “But that generation found that unions between two innfodt produce no children.”

  Avril felt her heart pounding, began to understand.

  “Most Asgard men are content to remain here and marry here,” Hauk continued, his voice becoming rough, “because to this day, if a man wants a family, he must risk venturing into the outside world and stealing himself an utlending bride. Few are willing to take the risk anymore, because the outside world becomes a more crowded, more violent, more dangerous place every year.”

  Josette reached up to touch her mouth with her fingertips. “That is why you brought me here?” she asked Keldan with soft wonderment. “Because you want a family?”

  “Aye, that is why he brought you here,” Hauk replied, his expression gentle as he looked at her. “Utlending brides are considered special, Josette, and Keldan wanted to marry the most special one he could find. A woman who would touch his heart. A woman with ‘sparks and liveliness,’ he said. The moment he set eyes on you, he knew you were the one. All he wants is to live in that vaningshus he built in the meadow and make you happy all the days of your life. And raise a little carpenter or two.”

  Josette pressed her hand over her mouth, tears suddenly sliding down her cheeks. She left Avril’s side without another word and walked over to Keldan, kneeling before him in the sand.

  She touched his face, spoke to him in Norse.

  Keldan uttered a shout of relief and joy, wrapping his arms around her in a fierce hug. He said something to Hauk, his tone one of gratitude, before burying his face in Josette’s dark hair.

  “Ja, ja,” Hauk replied hollowly, before he stood and walked toward Avril.

  “I do not understand.” She looked up at him in puzzlement as he drew near. “What did she say?”

  “She told him she loves him.” He glanced over his shoulder.

  Keldan and Josette were now lost in a kiss, lost in each other, oblivious to the world... and sinking onto the sand.

  Hauk cleared his throat and reached down to help Avril up. “And I believe we should allow them some time alone.”

  Chapter 18

  “Avril,” Hauk said after they had been walking along the shore for several minutes, “I find it difficult to believe that you have naught to say.”

  Avril could not bring herself to look at him, or summon a response. She poked at a piece of seaweed with a long stick she had picked up as they wandered down the beach.

  Leaving Ildfast where he was, they had set off on foot, following the curving edge of the cove toward the waterfall. The inlet was shaped like a broad, elongated U, open to the sea at one end, surrounded by the forest. Even the cliffs just ahead were laden with greenery, the waterfall splintered by trees and brambles into smaller cascades that glittered in the setting sun as they spilled into the cove.

  She looked down at the icy waves lapping around her bare toes. She had removed her boots, carrying them in her hand, and unbraided her hair after the salt-scented wind blowing in from the ocean made a tangle of it.

  “You must forgive me if I do not know what to say,” she finally managed to reply. “I have never before conversed with a man who is three hundred years old.”

  “It is not difficult. I am not hard of hearing,” he said lightly, “despite my age.”

  She turned to face him in the fading golden light. “Am I supposed to find that amusing?”

  “I do not know.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “You will have to tell me, which will require speaking to me. And you have conversed with a man who is three hundred years old—every day since we met in Antwerp.”

  Avril could only stare at him, mute, unable to sort out the jumbled thoughts splashing through her mind like the waves on the shoals. She brushed a windblown strand of hair out of her eyes, knew that what he said was true: This was Hauk, the same man who had abducted her, provoked her, fought with her... and saved her life, comforted her, teased her.

  Made love to her. Cradled her tenderly in his strong arms.

  And awakened emotions and longings in her heart she had thought she would never feel again.

  Yet he was three hundred years old. Had been on this earth centuries before she was born.

  And would be here long after she died.

  “Avril...” He moved closer. “There is no need to look at me as if I had just sprouted antlers. I am no different today than I was yesterday—”

 
; “Aye, and apparently you will be the same tomorrow, and the day after that and the day after that—”

  “How reassuring to see that your wit is still intact,” he said dryly.

  She dropped her boots and stabbed her walking stick into the sand. “You must pardon me if I am having a somewhat more difficult time adjusting to all of this than Josette. She is happily married to a man of fifty. I am...” She shook her head, looked down at her bare toes. “I do not know what I am anymore. Mayhap I am losing my mind.”

  “Do you doubt what I have told you? What you have seen with your own eyes? Do you think I have concocted an elaborate lie for some reason?”

  “Nay.” She swallowed hard and reluctantly met his gaze. “That is what frightens me the most. I believe you. I have seen enough of this strange place to believe you are telling the truth.”

  His expression softened. “I knew this would be difficult for you to accept.” Reaching out, he caught a strand of her long hair in his fingertips. “That is why I did not wish to tell you so soon.”

  “And when were you going to tell me?” A spark of anger flared inside her. “After you had bedded me a few times?” Another, awful thought struck her. “After I was carrying your child? Did you think that would—”

  “After you had begun to have feelings for me.”

  The quiet way he said it startled her into silence.

  His blue eyes searched her face. “Which, after this afternoon, I thought might not be far in the future.”

  Her heart missed a beat. She looked away, afraid he would see in her eyes what she had barely begun to admit to herself.

  What she dared not admit to him.

  “You were mistaken.” She did her best to sound cool and remote. Grabbing her walking stick and boots, she quickly changed to a safer subject. “Should we not go back and collect our friends, and return to town? I am still concerned about Josette. While she was babbling, she mentioned something about Thorolf—”

  “Avril—”

  “—But she was so upset about losing Keldan, I could not make sense of half of what she was saying. I want to make certain she is all right.”

  She started back the way they had come, noticing with a twinge in her heart how far apart the two sets of footprints were in the sand.

  “Avril, she appeared perfectly well when we left her. You can check on her later. On the morrow.” Hauk did not follow.

  Avril stopped and turned. “We are not going?”

  One corner of his mouth curved. “I do not think we should intrude upon them yet.”

  Avril felt warmth rise in her cheeks, realizing he was probably right. Josette and Keldan had barely noticed when she and Hauk left them. The young couple had been too busy celebrating their reunion.

  Which might take the rest of the night.

  And Avril did not wish to steal one moment of their happiness. Even if it meant being stranded out here with Hauk until morning.

  The last glimmer of sunlight seemed to choose that very moment to vanish from the horizon, leaving the two of them cloaked in shadows and the first, tentative radiance of the moon.

  “There is a sheltered place near the waterfall,” Hauk said. “We can spend the night there.”

  His tone was reassuring but his words brought an unsettling flutter to Avril’s stomach. She remembered too well what had happened the last time she and Hauk spent a moonlit night on the beach.

  Struggling to banish the memory, to keep her tone cool and unruffled, she walked back toward him. “Are you certain you do not have to return to town at once and see to Thorolf’s punishment?”

  He shook his head. “It will be safer to delay our return journey through the woods until dawn, since our ill-tempered acquaintances with the sharp fangs prefer to hunt in the darkness.” He fell in step beside her as they continued walking along the shore. “The men who rode with Keldan will take Thorolf to the council. Josette and Keldan will have to appear before them on the morrow to tell what happened, and the elders will decide his punishment.”

  She looked at him curiously. “How do you punish those who break your laws?”

  “Fortunately, it is rarely necessary.” He shrugged. “A person may be fined, or banished to a distant part of the island for a time, or even confined to solitary imprisonment. Thorolf’s misdeeds over the years have earned him all of those penalties.” Hauk’s expression hardened. “But when he attacked Keldan, he broke the most sacred of our laws, and he will pay dearly for it.”

  “In France, he would be drawn and quartered,” Avril said, still angry at the terrifying ordeal poor Josette had endured.

  “Mayhap, milady. But violence of any kind, for any reason, is strictly forbidden among us. The sort of killing and mayhem that occur every day in your world are unknown on Asgard.”

  Avril blinked at him in disbelief. “In all this time, no innfodt has ever killed”—she caught her error—”well, not killed, but—”

  “Nay, no innfodt has purposely harmed another. Not within my memory.”

  “All three hundred years of it?”

  That comment earned her a frown.

  “My apologies,” she amended lightly. “I suppose I should not tease you about being so old.”

  “Nay, feel free.” His slow smile flashed in the moonlight. “I will be happy to prove to you that I possess all the prowess and stamina of a man of thirty. Mayhap I should demonstrate—”

  “Mayhap not.” She increased the distance between them, waggling her stick in warning. His gaze roved over the masculine garb she still wore, in a way that made her heartbeat quicken.

  “I still do not understand,” she persisted, trying to keep his mind—and her own—on the subject at hand. “Even if weapons and violence are forbidden, there must still be disputes and quarrels and fights.”

  “Aye.” He moved closer as they walked. “But the first generation of innfodt decided that peace and co-operation would be essential among our people, when they realized none could leave Asgard and all would be living here together a very long time.” He reached out and took her boots from her hand, gallantly carrying them for her. “Disagreements are brought before the elders, they discuss the matter, and decide how to settle it.” He reached out and took her walking stick. “Fortunately, troublemakers like Thorolf are rare.”

  Avril belatedly realized she had just been disarmed. “I am surprised there are not more like him,” she said, turning around and walking backward, the better to keep an eye on Hauk’s quick hands. “No matter where people live in the world, men are still men. Unless you have somehow managed to do away with rivalry and aggression and envy and greed—”

  “There is little cause for any of that on Asgard. There is ample land and prosperity for all to enjoy, ample time to enjoy it, and all share in it equally. There are no lords here, no princes, no serfs. And as for the aggressive, physical side of man’s nature, we channel that into sport...” His slow, wicked smile returned. “And other enjoyable pursuits.”

  She turned away, not liking the effect that smile had on her pulse. “You make Asgard sound like it truly is a paradise.” His world sounded utterly different from her own. France knew little else but war, as lords and kings battled for land and riches, power and revenge.

  “Aye.” His voice became serious. “Though in truth, I fear we have become almost too peaceful.”

  They had reached a curve in the shoreline, a point where the sloping cliff stretched all the way across the beach in front of them, blocking their path. The waterfall tumbled noisily from the sky a short distance beyond. Hauk moved ahead of her, pulling aside a tangle of greenery to reveal some rough-hewn steps cut into the rock. “The sheltered place is just on the other side.” He started to climb up, then reached back to help her.

  Avril hesitated only a moment before she took his hand. His skin felt warm against hers, the stone steps cool and damp beneath her bare feet. The rocky slope of the cliff was only a few yards high at this point, and when they reached the top, she cou
ld see that the beach continued on the other side, the shore of the cove stretching away into the darkness.

  “Careful.” Hauk took a protective hold on her arm, steadying her as she climbed down.

  When her feet touched the sand again, she realized that they were at the base of a crevasse that extended deep into the cliff. Most of the rushing waterfall flowed directly into the cove, but a few streams spilled down on this side, falling in sheer curtains that glistened in the moonlight, gathering in a pool at the bottom that reflected the night sky.

  High above them, along the top of the crevasse, the tall pines had grown together across the opening, branches intertwined to form an arching canopy. It almost reminded Avril of the roof of a cathedral. But instead of stained glass and gold, this sanctuary was decorated with naught but the starlight that sprinkled down through the green boughs, and the sparkle of the waterfall. In the morning, she thought, the whole place would have an emerald glow.

  It was not merely a sheltered place; it was a secluded haven, filled with the scent of pine and the peaceful sounds of the waterfall and the waves. “A paradise,” she whispered.

  “I rest here when I return from my voyages away from Asgard,” Hauk said quietly. Setting down her boots and walking stick, he stepped toward an ancient-looking rain barrel wedged against the rock. “And I keep a few necessities on hand.” He motioned for her to join him.

  Twisting the lid of the barrel, he lifted it and set it aside, then dug through the contents. He handed her a folded woolen blanket and a leather flask.

  She uncorked the flask and drank, expecting water and coughing when she tasted potent wine instead. “Necessities?”

  He grinned, taking out some pieces of dry firewood and kindling before replacing the lid. “When I return to Asgard after visiting the outside world, what I want most is a long sleep and a strong drink.” He carried the wood over to a small circle of stones near the pool—a fire pit, judging by the charred remnants of logs within.