Icefall

by Matthew J. Kirby

  “Good night,” I said, so grateful to you.

  CHAPTER 4

  THE CAVE

  I remember that Ole spoke of a cave up here, near the base of the glacier. A place of safety where we could hide. I need a place of safety right now, so I begin to search for it. It must be a secret cave, or else it wouldn’t make a very secure place of hiding. I scramble up the sides of the ravine, looking under outcroppings and studying the rocky ledges. And then I feel a warmth on the breeze and smell the tang of sulfur. I turn to find its source and see a billow of steam rising from the stones, the breath of the earth, or perhaps of a dragon sleeping deep underground. The steam marks an opening in the troll mountains. The cave.

  I cross over and pause at the mouth before climbing through, imagining sharp fangs and glowing, serpent eyes waiting for me. I inhale some clean air and then enter, my shadow sliding ahead of me. Once inside, I wait a moment for my eyes to adjust. I am in an empty room with rough walls. A few empty sacks are piled in one corner, and there is an unlit torch close at hand. The air is warm, like a hall with a full fire in the long pit and cauldrons steaming over the hearth. The smell is unpleasant, but bearable.

  Farther in, the walls narrow and fall into the mouth of a shadow, then down the mountain’s dark gullet. I could light the torch with the flint I carry at my brooch, but I have no desire to go any farther. I am no Sigurd, and I have no Gram. And with the warmth in here, I need no fire.

  I sit down against one of the walls and lean my head back. I think of Hilda and feel like crying again, but no tears come. It is odd that she came to mean so much to me in so little time. I know I took to Hilda in an unusual way, but I’ll miss looking after her. I won’t ever milk her again. She won’t ever rub up against my skirts, letting me know she wants her ears scratched. And I won’t help her settle down to sleep outside my bedcloset anymore. I feel empty.

  I close my eyes, and now the tears do come. I squeeze them out and they roll down my cheeks. I sniff and cover my face with my hands. I am nothing.

  I discover that I have fallen asleep when I wake and see it is dark outside. I know I should go back to the steading, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to face any of them, even though I feel bad for what I said to Per. He is nothing like the berserkers. But why can’t I stay here? It is warm, and small, and safe, and it doesn’t matter that I am only Solveig the plain, second daughter, friend of goats.

  I close my eyes and slip back down the dreamroads.

  I am standing at the cliff watching enemy ships sail up the fjord below, drekars with leering mastheads and shields down their lengths. They bristle with spears and swords; the warriors on deck rattle their weapons and scream battle cries. The wind carries their vulgar threats up to my ears, and my body recoils.

  I flee to the safety of the steading walls, but find the gate broken wide. The yard is littered with the pale bodies of the berserkers. Their mouths hang open, their tongues loll, and their eyes dry in the air for raven food. None show any sign of hurt or wound, as though they simply fell where they stood by some witchcraft. In the sky above the steading, a cloud leers in the shape of a wolf’s head, a maw opening over us with dagger-teeth.

  The enemy’s cries are closer. Somehow I know their ships have landed; they are climbing up to the steading. I dart into the hall, close and bar the doors. I struggle to catch my breath, my eyes darting around the room. Asa clutches Harald in a far corner, her eyes wild with the panic of a wounded deer. Harald cries for the mother he never knew and I barely remember. He is no warrior now. He is a frightened boy.

  At the cold hearth, Bera stirs a wooden paddle inside an empty kettle, her face blank. “Your father knows my cooking,” she says. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

  Raudi sits on the ground next to her, staring at me with eyes like the burning timbers of a funeral pyre. “This is your fault,” he says. “We are all dead because of you.”

  “No,” I say. “Where is Per? Per will save us.”

  Asa pulls Harald closer. “Per is gone,” she says.

  And it feels as though the ground has collapsed beneath me, and the fire is not in Raudi’s eyes, but every where. The walls burn around us, the pillars blacken, the carvings of vines and animals twist in the blaze. The heat scorches my cheeks, and the smoke chokes the air from my lungs. Then I hear a deafening crack and the sound of a thousand waves crashing on the shore. The glacier has finally heaved its bulk down the mountain. I feel the ground shake with its rush toward our steading. In a moment it will fall on us and smother the flames, smash the hall, crush our bodies, and drive the splinters into the sea.

  Yellow light flickers off the cave walls. I blink away the dream and realize the cave is not on fire. Torches move outside, then voices. One of them is close, and I recognize it to be Ole. The others are more distant, their words sounding as if they range across the ravine. I think about calling out to Ole to let him know I am here, but before I do, he sticks the torch into the cave and pokes his head in after it.

  “There you are,” he says, grunting as he climbs into the chamber.

  “You found me,” I say.

  He nods once, a quick jerk, and crosses the room toward me. I think he is going to help me up, but he doesn’t. He stands over me, and I notice he is holding his bone knife.

  I climb to my feet. “I hope I haven’t caused too much trouble.”

  He says nothing, just stares at me. His eyes are cold, like the eyes of the berserkers in my dream, and his mouth is a hairline crack across his stony face.

  “Ole?” I say.

  And then Per climbs into the chamber. “Solveig!” he says. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” I say.

  “I found her,” Ole says. He gives me a narrowed glance, and he leaves. I watch him climb out of the cave, and then I become aware that I am alone with Per. We are both quiet for a few moments.

  “I should have told you,” Per finally says. “Hilda was not just a goat. I should have told you.”

  Hearing him say it makes me feel a little better. “I’m sorry I said those things to you. You’re nothing like Hake and his men.”

  He shakes his head. “My king’s daughter has no need to apologize to me.”

  “But I do apologize.”

  “Does this mean we are friends again?”

  “We are,” I say. I think about sharing my dream with him, but I hold my tongue. He would only think me more foolish than I’m sure he already does. “We should return to the steading.”

  “Yes,” he says. “Everyone will be relieved to see you.”

  He leads me from the cave, out into the night. The glacier looks like a wedge of fallen moon, and thin silver clouds race across the black sky. Torches float over the hills around me, across the ravine, flickering specks of bobbing light. Every one has come out looking for me, and suddenly my cheeks are not red from the cold. I hang my head in embarrassment.

  “I’ve caused so much trouble,” I whisper.

  “Do not worry yourself.”

  Per calls to the others, announcing that he has found me, and the lights all pause a moment before moving as one back down the ravine. “Watch your step on these rocks,” Per says, and takes my arm. His kind and reassuring touch warms me.

  A short while later, we walk into the steading. Bera paces the yard and rushes me into a hard hug when she sees me.

  “Oh, you reckless thing,” she says. “Don’t you go running off ever again.”

  “I won’t,” I say. But it feels good to know she cares about me.

  “She did find the cave,” Per says. “She looked like she’d been sleeping.”

  “Oh, by the gods.” Bera rolls her eyes. “Sleeping? While the rest of us have been stewing and pacing, thinking you were going to freeze to death out there. You wicked child.”

  “I’m sorry, Bera.”

  Asa and Harald come out of the hall, and Harald runs at me. He throws his arms around my waist and buries his face in my dress. Asa looks at m
e with an expression I can’t read.

  “I’m fine, Harald,” I say.

  Harald pushes away. “I knew you were. I told Asa.” He looks at our sister. “Didn’t I tell you?”

  Asa nods, and I wonder if she was worried about me, too.

  “Now let’s all go inside where it’s warm,” Bera says.

  We allow her to usher us into the hall, and then I sit down on one of the benches. Alric is seated nearby, and he nods to me. Asa comes over and places a bowl of fresh skyr in my lap.

  “You must be hungry,” she says.

  I am, and I eat the sour milk quickly.

  Gradually, the warriors come in, ruddy-cheeked and stamping their feet. I feel ashamed and only steal furtive glances at them. They look at me with scowls of confusion, anger, and open hostility.

  Alric clears his throat. “Would anyone care for a tale?”

  No one answers. He turns to me. “What about the second daughter of our king? What does she fancy?”

  “Please,” I say. “Lift the mood.”

  Alric bows his head, but does not raise it. He lets it hang on his chest for several moments as if asleep or contemplating his lap. Then he stands, and a hush spreads like hearth-glow over the audience. He looks out across the hall, meeting the eyes of all who watch him. He opens his mouth and he speaks.

  “High up the cloud-paths, you will find Asgard, the realm of the gods, where one day Thor, Thunderer, master of lightning and all that is in the heavens, awoke to find his mighty hammer, Mjollnir, missing.”

  Alric’s voice has the warmth of a hot spring, and I try to settle into it. This is a familiar story, a humorous tale of gods.

  “Without Mjollnir, the mountain-crusher, Thor could not defend his realm. He and all the gods were vulnerable until the hammer could be found. And so he called upon the god Loki, who took a feathered cloak and flew whistling across the land in search of what was lost. Loki traveled far and wide, until he came upon a giant sitting on a barrow. The giant laughed at Loki and said, ‘I see that something is amiss in Asgard.’ And Loki told him of the missing hammer.

  “The giant then confessed to stealing Mjollnir and said he had hidden the weapon eight leagues beneath the earth. He would restore the hammer to Thor, but only if he could have Freyja, the goddess of love and beauty, for his wife.

  “Loki flew back to Asgard and reported what he had learned. Thor thundered and raged, and split the earth open with lightning. He carved fjords and leveled mountains, but could not find the hammer’s hiding place.

  “And so he went to Freyja, and told her that she must put on her bridal headdress. And Freyja … objected to the marriage.”

  Here, Alric pauses and lets a smirk crawl across his mouth.

  “Her indignance and her anger shook the very halls of Asgard, and Thor was forced to flee from her. Without her, he knew not what to do, until Loki suggested that Thor wear the bridal headdress himself. And so the thunder god put on a dress, and jewelry, and all the trappings of a bride, and went down to the thieving giant.”

  I laugh at the image Alric has conjured, at the giant so easily fooled.

  “And so began the wedding celebration, attended by many of the giant’s kind, and at which Thor forgot himself and ate two whole oxen. When the giant remarked on his bride’s appetite, Loki said, ‘She is hungry, for in her anticipation, she has not eaten for eight days.’ When the giant wanted a kiss from his bride, but saw the fire burning in her eyes, Loki said, ‘She is tired, for in her eagerness, she has not slept for eight days.’ The giant, flattered, accepted both these explanations.”

  Again I laugh.

  “Then the giant called for Mjollnir to be brought forth. ‘My wedding gift,’ he said, and laid the weapon in Thor’s lap. The Thunderer looked down upon it. And he smiled. He grasped the hammer, threw off his disguise, and leapt into battle, the sound of which shook the earth. With Mjollnir in his hand, Thor destroyed the wedding party, and slew the giant who had stolen his hammer from him.”

  This is where the story normally ends, and I am about to clap, but Alric holds up his hand.

  “Having obtained his weapon and his victory,” he says, “Thor rode back up to Asgard in his chariot, which was pulled by his two powerful goats, Teeth-Barer and Teeth-Grinder.”

  I swallow at the mention of goats. The beginning of the story had helped me to forget about Hilda, but now it reminds me of her, bringing back the pang of loss.

  “In their flight across the sky, they stirred up the winds and trampled the clouds, and as Thor coursed over a lonely fjord, he spied a single nanny goat below. Though old, he could see she was a noble beast, and had given her long life in service to her masters. And as her reward, berserker men were about to slaughter her for meat.

  “Thor descended in his chariot, but did not reach the warriors in time to save her. So the Thunderer waited until after she was butchered and then gathered up the nanny goat’s skin. With it, he flew to his father Odin’s great hall. And there he laid the skin upon the ground, and with Mjollnir restored to him, he used the hammer’s power to fill the skin with flesh and bone and bring her back to life.

  “And as soon as the nanny goat leapt to her feet, she pranced right up to one of Odin’s enormous hall doors and butted it with her head, asking to be let in.”

  At that image of my Hilda, I laugh, this time with tears.

  “And behold,” Alric says. “The great doors opened, the goat was welcomed, and in she walked to find a place to sleep among our fallen heroes who wait in Odin’s hall.”

  Now Alric smiles and bows his head, his tale finished. The berserkers around me are silent, perhaps guilt-stricken, for they are Odin’s men, and in placing Hilda in their god’s hall, Alric has inspired a new respect and admiration for my goat. And I am comforted by the thought of Hilda honored and nestled among friends.

  After the last voice-echo has died, Alric walks over to me.

  “Thank you,” I say to him.

  “You are most welcome,” he says.

  I look around the room and see that the expressions on the berserkers’ faces have changed. When they look at me, they nod and smile, and I can see they have softened toward me. I turn back to Alric, grateful and awed.

  “You weave a spell, sir.”

  He shakes his head. “Memory and sight.” Then he walks away.

  After he has left, Raudi comes over and sits down near me, though not near enough that I think he’s come to talk to me.

  But then he clears his throat. “I’m sorry.”

  His words surprise me. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I mean earlier. By the woodpile.”

  I don’t know what he’s talking about, and I turn to him. He is gazing at me with more kindness than I have seen from him since coming here.

  He looks down at his boots. “I should have stood up for you when Per said she was just a goat.”

  “She was just a goat.” I shake my head. “I know I am being foolish, but I cared for her.” Now I drop my gaze to my lap. “I am embarrassed.”

  He frowns. “I don’t think you’re being foolish. Anyone with eyes could see she liked you, and she looked to you to take care of her. And I could tell you liked taking care of her. Like you both sort of took care of each other.”

  And I realize he’s right. Hilda and I did take care of each other, needed each other, and I have never felt that before. Asa and Harald have obvious purposes, roles to play in my father’s plans, but not I. Father has never spoken of my virtues, and I don’t even know what they might be. Alric said I have memory and sight, but of what use are they? No, I would gladly trade either for beauty or strength. Or to have Hilda back. To be needed again.

  Raudi stands up, his cheeks red, and sticks out his chest just a little. “I would have stopped them. If I’d known.”

  “Thank you, Raudi.” I want to hug him. But he nods awkwardly and walks away before I can figure out if I should.

  Later that night, I lie with Asa in the darkness
of our bedcloset. Her breathing is deep and slow, and I think she is asleep, but my thoughts keep me awake. What Alric does is as necessary to us as eating or drinking, but he feeds something else. We need and value what he is. I want to feel that way, to give something important to others. Perhaps with practice, I could be a skald. That is, if Father would allow it.

  The glacier is moaning. I feel that I understand it better, having stood at its feet and slept in the cave nearby, underneath the troll mountains. We are on familiar terms, the ice and I.

  Even with Asa next to me, I feel alone. My sister has shut herself off from me, from everyone, and has become a stranger. For a single moment, I imagine that Hilda is sleeping right outside the door, if I only peek my head out to look. But the moment is short-lived.

  “Solveig?” Asa says, and I startle.

  “I thought you were asleep,” I say.

  “No.” Her slow breathing has not changed. “I’m glad you’re with me.”

  I pause. “You are?”

  “Yes. I need you.”

  Her voice is so weak in the darkness, so insubstantial, I would swear there is nothing in the bedcloset with me but a ghost. I begin to shake a little in fear and reach out to touch her, to find an anchor. Her skin is cool, and I leave my hand on her arm to keep hold of her.

  “I’m here for you,” I say. “But I don’t think you need me. You bring honor to Father. You’re beautiful, Asa. You will join powerful allies to his kingdom in marriage.”

  She does not answer for several long moments. “That is why I need you….” Her voice trails off.

  I wait, listen, and it seems that now she has fallen asleep. I snuggle up to her, breathing her lavender-scented hair, still holding her arm. It is as though the trolls have already come down from the mountains for a bride, broken into the hall, and stolen my sister away. My beautiful, vibrant, light-filled sister. But they left an empty changeling here to remind me of what they took.

  I remember the way you used to comb my hair, Asa. My brown hair that is neither curly nor straight. Bera, do you remember the time you tried to dye it, to make it the color of gold, like Asa’s? Not even your strongest lye could bleach away its dullness, but left me instead with hair the color of a dried leaf.