Finally, Hallad’s patience expired. He headed toward the door. Rota crossed before him faster than flame, blocking his escape.
"Let me pass." Hallad’s voice thickened in his throat.
Making no attempt to move, the drengmaer rested a broad hand across her sword.
"Am I a guest or a prisoner?"
Still, the woman didn't move.
Swan bolted to Hallad’s side. Olrun skirted behind Rota almost as quickly as Swan had come to Hallad’s aid.
"Do you think I'm going to fight two women?" Hallad recalled Swan with the rough in Birka, realizing his insult too late.
Rota looked as though her eyes would shoot nails through his skin, as she and Olrun grabbed their sword hilts in unison.
A swish of metal against metal sounded in the silence between them as Swan unsheathed her sword, spinning her blade three times, training the point on the two women faster than any of them could budge.
Suddenly, the door swung open, and Ase appeared. She took in the precarious standoff, but ignored it, announcing, "Serpent Mother will see the Savior and her Guardian."
Chapter 20
The hollow sound of a bone pipe played an unfamiliar melody, the musician hidden from sight. Women dressed in white cloaks entered from behind the yew tree that occupied the center of the grove, swinging incense tins from long ropes. Smoke mushroomed through the air, filling the space with the perfume of burning alder.
The bone pipe ceased its last note, echoing throughout the grove. Two women dressed like drengmaers—except, instead of donning only one type of animal fur, their mantles consisted of an array of skins—marched onto the dais, placing themselves over uruz, the rune symbolizing brute strength. Hearth Mother appeared after them, positioning her bulk over fehu, the rune for cattle. A white-cloaked woman glided onto the platform over tiwaz, the rune for spiritual warrior. A cowl hung over the woman’s face, obstructing any view of her identity.
Another blow of the bone pipe resounded, and a black-cowled figure emerged from the edge of the ancient yew. She mounted the stairs and slid to the middle of the five-pointed star, standing directly over the algiz rune for protective sanctuary.
Hallad, Swan, Olrun, and Rota remained where they had first entered, over the kanunaz rune, while Ase Jorrun stood at the ansuz position.
The pipe began again, and the melody crescendoed until the song fell into silence.
After long moments of utter stillness, the figure in the middle lifted off her cowl, settling the hood over her shoulders. The woman’s hair streamed down into the blackness of the cloak, a silver sheen in the firelight. The only lines betraying her age creased her forehead; the rest of her skin remained placid. Her eyes stared forward as if the spirit who inhabited her body left long ago.
"The Goddess has bidden and you have come."
The black-cloaked woman bowed, wisps of her silver hair escaping from her cowl to fall about her waist, flowing down as long and smooth as Swan's. Then the High Priestess bid the sky.
"Thank you, Gentle Goddess, for leading them to the safety of your hearth."
Hallad cracked a knee, ready to bow, but none of the others moved a muscle.
"You have been sent to us through the guidance of our Lady, the holy goddess Freyja. We welcome the Savior and her Guardian to her Hearth."
Rota elbowed Olrun in the ribs at the words Savior and Guardian, casting a glare at her sister.
The pipe rang out once more as two girls entered, wearing stark skirts embroidered with black cat emblems around the hems and across the breasts. Each carried a traditional Scandian horn overflowing with honeyed mead. The girls extended the horns in welcome to Hallad and Swan. As before, Hallad and Swan both drank, though Hallad only sipped, still full from the meal at the Hall of the Hearth.
Serpent Mother waved her arm in introduction, the fluid black material flowing like shadows in the night.
“You have already met our Hearth Mother. She will be your hostess for your stay and provide you with anything you require."
Hearth Mother curtsied, flaring her heavy skirts. For the first time, Hallad noticed the hems of her skirts donned patterns of boars.
"These women," Serpent Mother swept her arm toward the drengmaers, "are our Dreng Mothers."
Both women bent their necks in unison, with less enthusiasm than Hearth Mother, their stoic faces the perfect representation of hardened warriors.
“And lastly, our Daughter of the Temple."
The white-clad woman bowed deeper than any of them, dropping her head to the ground.
"They are the Clan Elders of the Sacred Hearth of Freyja and all decisions reside with the Elders and myself."
The High Priestess’ hollowed eyes lingered on Swan, examining her face, her hair, her stance. She nodded approvingly, then continued, "Listen to what the Goddess has proclaimed for you both. I understand you have been told little of your heritage. Only that you were born twins—a sacred bond given to you directly from the Goddess. Many moons ago ours was a clan in its infancy. Without direction. Without protection. Then the Goddess sent her servant, a Norn, into our midst and entrusted us with the prophecies of the Savior and her Guardian. We have guarded these prophecies and awaited your arrival. Now she instructs us that you must be bonded as sal drengrs."
"When?" Hallad asked.
All the women cast surprised glares in his direction, except Serpent Mother, whose face remained as still as a pond. Hallad realized he shouldn't have spoken, but he needed to find out when this bonding would take place. He wanted to know what could be done for Emma. Erik's recent accusation goaded him onward, rekindling his duty to his little sister. Swan's feelings rushed into him, mirroring his own—irritation, frustration and unwillingness to wait.
Serpent Mother continued without any acknowledgement of his interruption. "The teachings of the Gentle Goddess showed us the power of twins as the Goddess bore twins, and in succession, her twins begot twins and so forth until all of the aspects of the Gentle One existed in both the land of the gods and of man. But the Shadow weakens the one true Goddess. So the Goddess sent a Norn to tell us a set of twins would be born from twins. As her children, these offspring would be necessary for not only the survival of man, but of the gods. The destiny of these offspring is to become one. Sal drengrs. The bonding ritual was handed down to us by the Goddess herself to strengthen our clan, so we could protect and serve. And now we will provide the ultimate service to our Goddess by guiding and bonding her Savior and Guardian.”
“How do you know we are the Savior and Guardian?” Hallad interrupted again.
Serpent Mother did not reply.
“Then we are wasting time,” Hallad said.
“The power in your sister is the greatest we have ever seen.”
“What power?” asked Hallad.
“See how she does not speak?”
Hallad nodded.
“She holds her tongue because she carries enormous power within. To speak would be to release the power and she cannot allow the floodgate to open. Yet.”
“Says who?” Hallad prodded.
“You must have faith.”
“Faith in what?” Hallad rounded on Serpent Mother, unable to control his anger. “I know nothing of your Goddess. I have followed your priestess blindly, been led to your Sacred Groves, and now I am to sit like an obedient dog and obey while my half-sister’s life is threatened. I cannot remain idle. I must seek out my sister and save her from any ill fate besetting her.”
Swan pressed into his side, and a mix of comfort and irritation rushed through him. He tried to contain the prick of annoyance at her proximity, but he could not. The old feeling of blaming her for his inactivity seized him, but within a blink, Swan’s emotions withdrew, as if she built a wall in the place inside him that harbored her. Momentary relief from her constant barrage eased him. He glanced in Swan’s direction and realized hurt flashed across her eyes.
Serpent Mother exchanged a wordless understanding with Ase.
<
br /> “Emma’s fate is her own, Hallad Avarson. Your concern is to your twin. Your duty is to the one true Goddess.”
"I will bond, as you say, as sal drengrs."
Serpent Mother nodded in satisfaction, but before she could reply Hallad added, “But we will bond tonight, and seek Emma upon daylight. Half-sister or full. She is still my blood and still my responsibility."
Serpent Mother directed her speech towards the women warriors. “Rota and Olrun, Headwomen of the Lion Clan.”
Each bowed their head at her address.
“I have heard of your misunderstanding upon meeting Hallad and your disrespect toward this man, whom our Goddess has willed as the Savior’s Guardian. In reprimand you are commanded to train the Savior and her Guardian in the skills of drengrs.”
Olrun’s mouth opened in defiance but Rota caught her wrist, growling at her between her teeth in a warning of silence.
“Good,” Hallad answered. “Then our action is decided. We will train tonight, and leave at sunrise.”
"Nei. You will train with the Headwomen of the Lion Clan and you will be bonded as sal drengrs if and when the time comes."
"I will not play games. I am a godhi's son and I will do as my station commands."
"You are Isla's son! She is daughter of the Temple. You are supplicant to the Temple." Serpent Mother rounded on him like a viper, ready to strike, her voice a hiss in the still air. "If Isla had raised you, you would have learned respect for Our Lady. I do not request this of you. The Goddess commands your compliance."
The drengmaers crowded in close to Hallad’s back and he realized his status. Prisoner.
Chapter 2 1
A pain-filled howl, belonging in the tales Rolf told by firelight, shot through the Lion Clan’s campsite. Hallad peered about, seeking the source. Fires burned low, banked by rocks, barely enough fodder to keep the embers glowing.
After their abrupt dismissal from the Sacred Groves, Rota and Olrun had escorted Hallad and Swan to their camp in the depths of the IronWood. Though the women had not bound them, Hallad knew any movement toward escape would have been met with a sword.
Mist rolled throughout the damp forest, tendrils entwining like the fingers of Loki, announcing morning would arrive dusted with frost and night would bite at bare skin with vengeance. The cry rang again until the wail broke into sobs.
Olrun sat on her heels, her freckled skin flushed by the dim fire.
"What's going on?" Hallad asked as he removed his swan sword from its scabbard, sharpening the edge against a rock.
"Intruder," Olrun replied, pulling a flask from her skins and taking a long swig, the scent of mead spilling into the night air. She smacked her lips and wiped them with the back of her hand.
Swan sat across from Hallad, staring into the brush—her emotions a mystery for the first time. He could still sense her presence, but not in the same way. She’d managed to buffer their intensity. Hallad wondered if their connection had severed. His chest heaved with relief. Maybe this sal drengr business wouldn't be necessary. At his thought she turned, her cool eyes catching his. When he met her gaze, hurt spattered across her face. Guilt welled in him. She could still feel his emotions, even if she blocked her own from him.
Two drengmaers appeared, pacing through the tangled brush as gracefully as deer, as dangerously as she-lions. Each bore a spear and stopped to face Olrun, though standing askance so their backs touched. The drengmaers were identical. In Hallad’s experience twins were exposed to the elements at birth, though he still hadn’t puzzled out how he had been saved from that fate.
"Your sister asks that you bring the man," said one of the twins.
Olrun nodded.
Hallad studied the identical twins as they mirrored one another. They turned and disappeared into the forest. Olrun slurped one last swig of mead before capping her flask with reluctance.
"Come on, farm boy. Let's see what trouble you've brought."
"Trouble?"
"Ja. Trouble. Where there's a man, there's trouble."
She laughed heartily, amused with her own joke. Hallad replied by pressing his lips in a tight line. Swan stood. Hallad assumed Swan would follow, but instead she settled down amongst her bedding, removed her sword from its scabbard and fingered the tree at its hilt, losing herself in the design.
Olrun and Hallad stalked off into the forest until they entered into a clearing where a fire roared in its center. Hallad struggled to sense Swan's presence. After becoming so accustomed to her, the lack of her emotions inside him caused the empty hole from his childhood to reopen. He felt she lingered in the distance, but numbly, as if her emotions were closed tighter than a seidr-wife's pouch.
As Hallad crossed the clearing he noticed a woman tethered to a tree, a rag stuffed in her mouth. The woman’s gold-brown hair strung in clumps around her torn cloak, her eyes swelled from tears. She moaned at the sight of Hallad.
Thyre.
Hallad ran to her, dislodging the dirty cloth from her mouth.
"This is my . . . " Hallad stumbled for the right words to identify her. "Kin. Release her."
Rota folded her arms across her wide chest. Another drengmaer spoke in her place.
"Thieves and spies are all treated alike here." The drengmaer leaned in, grabbing Thyre's hair. "What were you trying to do, woman? Steal? Spy?"
Thyre howled, tears streaming down her dirt-stained face.
Hallad grasped the drengmaer's arm, forcing her to release her grip.
"She is the wife of the Godhi of Steadsby and deserves respect."
Even though Thyre had incited his death sentence, Hallad could not bear to see her treated like an animal.
"Station does not outweigh crime." The drengmaer raised her chin.
Rota tightened her lips like a bucket sealed with whale fat, but she flicked her eyes at the drengmaer, causing the woman to move aside.
Hallad reached around, releasing Thyre's bonds and pulled her upright.
"Stand straight. Do yourself honor."
Thyre’s face strained as she reached up to tuck strands of her hair back into the knot on top of her head. She smoothed her tattered skirts and limped to the fire. The drengmaers busied themselves with chores at Rota's direction, though they still minded Hallad and Thyre.
Hallad lowered his voice. His words sounded lifeless.
"What are you doing here?"
Thyre twitched back and forth like a scared rabbit, her eyes darting from the fire to the drengmaers.
"Come, son. We must leave. These women are—"
"I am not your son."
Thyre’s eyes flicked between his.
"I raised you."
"And you would have me executed."
"I . . . " Her voice cracked. "For Emma. I had to. You don’t understand." She flung her hands in the air then wrung them within her torn skirts.
"What are you doing here?" Hallad asked again, his voice sinking deeper.
"I had to find you."
"Why?"
"We need to go. You and me. Get away from these . . . " She cast an anxious glance at the woman circling the fire.
"So you can bring me back to Steadsby?"
"Nei. Nei. To find Emma." Fidgeting with her torn hem, Thyre attempted to tie the loose threads of her skirts together.
"What makes you think she's alive?" Hallad’s voice thundered in his ears.
Thyre sighed, wiping her hand across her dirty face. She hesitated, placing her hands on top of his. Hallad twitched with an urge to snatch them away. He tightened them into fists instead.
"I am sorry. Please forgive me. But now, you must trust me. We must leave here. You and me."
The gentleness in her voice reminded him of Emma. Once, she must have been as kind as her daughter, though the years had stripped her to a hardened core.
"What happened to my father?"
"Nothing. Avarr stayed behind to calm the villagers. He's waiting for us to return with Emma."
She averted her eye
s, dropping her hands from his and continued to fiddle with the loose threads of her skirts.
Hallad breathed heavily, wanting—hoping—to believe her. But he knew she lied. His chest heaved again as he tried to control the sickness slithering inside. His skin pricked as Swan appeared in the distance, a lone wolf watching them, waiting to pounce to his rescue.
Thyre stiffened at her approach.
She leaned in to Hallad and whispered, "Meet me tomorrow. I will mark a trail from the camp. There are things I need to tell you, things you must know, but remember these women are evil—the spawn of Loki himself. Meet me. Give your word."
Hallad nodded, though he had no idea how either of them would sneak off in a camp full of drengmaers. Avarr had taught him to listen to everyone before making a decision, to weigh each side. Always remember, son, there is nei good or evil, only opposing views. Even Thyre deserved a chance from him.
Like a white mist, Swan drew in next to him. Thyre's eyes darted to her, then the women, then the fire.
Was she a scared rabbit or a crafty fox? Hallad wondered.
"Remember you gave your word." Thyre said as she stood and stalked off, trying to hide her limp. Her face tensed with pain as two drengmaers shadowed her, positioning themselves on either side.
Chapter 2 2
"If you are waiting for your nana to dress you, farm boy, you’ll wait all day."
Olrun kicked at Hallad’s rump with a booted foot.
Hallad lurched out of his bedroll. The early morning air bit at his exposed chest. Fog lingered; it covered the ground of the IronWood, dimming any light from the sky.
Dressed and waiting, Swan sat across from the cold fire pit like a draugr in the mist, her outline barely visible through the fog. He heard the ting of metal as she sharpened her sword in the same manner Hallad had honed his own.
Olrun poked him with her toe again.
"Rise and shine sleepy head."
Doing his best to ignore the woman, Hallad splashed himself with iced-water from his flask and gobbled down dried meat left in his pack from his travels.
Bonded: Book One of the ShadowLight Saga, an Epic Fantasy Adventure Page 10
