by Jianne Carlo
’Twas naught for it, but he would not believe her tale. There were times when she didn’t believe it. Magnhildur pierced my neck with a needle.
His jaw dropped. He opened his mouth, glanced at what she’d written, and shook his head. “Magnhildur pierced your neck with a needle? You let her do this to you?”
Nay. I could not move.
“Did none intervene to prevent her from committing such a heinous act?” A muscle underneath his eye jumped.
She and Néill stole into my chamber in the night.
“Why did you not scream?”
I could not open my lips or blink. She is a seidr.
Xára heard a scuffling coming from behind her. She pivoted and rushed around the herb table just as it was pushed from the wall. Evie shoved through the crawl hole, looked up, saw her, and grinned. “Why are you here, sister? Mama is awake and Lara sent me for some mint.”
Evie stood. She caught sight of Dráddør. She blanched and blurted, “You did not tell me I had to stay in my room. You said I must go there and I did.”
Dráddør grabbed Evie by the shoulder and swatted her arse. “’Twill be a full paddling for you, should you disobey me again.”
“’Twasn’t really disobeying,” Evie wheedled.
“’Twas dishonorable, sprite. You knew you were to stay in your room. We will have a reckoning on this and your earlier disobedience. You have caused your nurse and your sister distress. ’Tis not the way you treat family.” Dráddør pointed to the stool. “Sit, and move not a limb until I give you leave to do so.”
Xára pressed her twitching lips together at Evie’s woebegone pout.
But Evie didn’t protest as she usually did. With a reluctance writ in her trudged footsteps, she obeyed Dráddør’s order.
Relieved to have her husband’s attention diverted, Xára’s shoulders sagged when he examined the table, the wall, and the crawl hole.
“’Tis one of the entrances to the tunnels?” He shoved the table to one side and squatted. “Methinks, ’twould be torture to fit myself in that puny space. Where does it lead?”
He shot her a glance.
She motioned to Evie to answer.
“The crawl hole leads to the tunnels to the chambers in the east and west wings.” Evie swung her legs and pointed to the opposite walls in turn. “’Tis two more there and there. Standing tunnels. To the north and south towers.”
A sound rose above the normal castle noises. Xára cocked her head and listened. Lady Skatha had a beautiful tinkling distinctive voice. Dráddør’s family had returned.
“What do you hear?” Evie asked. “Xára can hear the merest whisper e’en through the stone walls.”
They are here.
He quirked one brow. “’Tis another talent inherited from your mother?”
Nay, but ’twas not a path she wanted to travel, so Xára simply smiled.
Dráddør leaned down and whispered in her ear, “You, too, will have a reckoning, sváss, and mayhap ’twill also involve a paddling.”
A paddling? He intended to beat her?
“Nay, Xára, not what you are thinking. ’Tis another variation on coupling.” He winked and curled an arm around her waist. In a loud voice, he glanced over his shoulder, and ordered, “Follow us, Evie. ’Tis time you meet your new family.”
He opened the door and guided her into the hallway. “Nyssa will be overjoyed to see Skatha again. They last met before Skatha birthed her son.”
A bairn. She hadn’t held a bairn in her arms since leaving Circe Fearn Abbey. How she longed to have a child of her own. Xára snuck a peek at Dráddør. Would their son look like him? Recalling his words after their swiving, she vowed to tempt him into spilling his seed inside of her oft.
Xára led Dráddør to the great hall via the short corridor that avoided the kitchen and opened through a narrow doorway under the stairs.
Brökk, Skatha, Konáll and Nyssa stood below the middle of the dais.
“He is a fine stout lad.” Konáll held a squirming child in his arms.
“What great dimples you have, Jorunn.” Nyssa stroked the boy’s chubby cheeks. She patted her stomach. “Soon you will have a playmate. He is a dearling, Skatha. Look at these fat little toes. Oh, he is ticklish.”
“Nay, nay!”
Xára grinned at the boy’s high-pitched squeak. She urged Dráddør forward.
“He speaks already?” Konáll asked.
“’Tis the only word he knows. You will soon tire of it,” Brökk declared.
“Aye. He is wont to say it o’er and o’er.” Skatha glanced their way, and she smiled. “Here comes Dráddør and Xára now. Give Jorunn to his new aunt, Konáll, so he may make her acquaintance.”
Eager to hold the babe, Xára shifted out of Dráddør’s embrace.
When Konáll carefully transferred the child into her arms, Xára fell in love with the cherub’s beautiful little face. Entranced, she smoothed the boy’s dark curls from his forehead, and caressed his cheek. Quick as a flash, Jorunn grabbed her finger and stuck it in his mouth.
“He is teething and has a great need to gum everyone’s fingers.” Skatha moved to stand next to Xára.
Indeed the child gnawed on her finger, but ’twas a most enjoyable feeling. Xára met Skatha’s gaze and could not help but return the other woman’s broad smile.
“Can I hold him?” Evie asked, her arms outstretched.
“Aye. But you must sit and hold him on your lap. He wriggles more than a spring worm struggling to escape a sparrow’s beak. Go, take your seat on the dais, and I will bring him to you.” Skatha pointed to the bench on the platform.
Reluctantly, Xára gave Jorunn back to his mother.
Dráddør, who had been speaking to Konáll, was immediately at Xára’s side. “Brökk, Skatha, meet my wife, Xára.”
Skatha rocked Jorunn who had begun to grunt. “I hope you have taken him to task, Xára, for his earlier failure of not introducing you at once. Dráddør told us of your sand tray. ’Tis most clever. May I see it? For methinks, ’tis a way of teaching Jorunn from early on his letters.”
Xára blinked. ’Twas a brilliant notion. She nodded.
“I will fetch it for you, sister.” Evie offered. “Mayhap I should fetch the slab from the herbarium instead? ’Tis closer.”
“Slab?” Nyssa asked.
“’Tis a flat, whitewashed rock, Xára writes on. Aye. Go get it sprite.” Dráddør tweaked Evie’s nose. “Be quick for methinks your cousin looks about to howl his hunger.”
Jorunn opened his mouth and from his cherubic lips a mighty bellow erupted that sounded exactly like his father’s.
“Ouch.” Evie put both hands over her ears. “He makes a great noise for such a wee bairn.”
“And ’tis likely to become greater if I do not feed him at once. Best hurry, Evie, and spare your ears Jorunn’s thunder.” Skatha bounced her son against her shoulder.
Evie grinned and set off for the herbarium at a sprint.
Skatha dipped into the pocket of her gown, retrieved an oatcake, and gave it to Jorunn. The boy jammed the too-big cake into his mouth and blessed silence ruled for a moment.
“Dráddør has told us of all that has happened o’er the last while.” Skatha collected the crumbs dripping onto the boy’s tunic. “Nyssa and I have discussed the matter of your voice. After we break our fast, she will try her healing powers on you.”
Automatically Xára fingered her scar. Her cheeks heated and she glanced to Dráddør. Why she felt such shame and abject humiliation made no sense to her. ’Twas Magnhildur and Néill who had committed the malicious deed. But, that she had not been able to lift a finger in defense both terrified and horrified her. Up until the moment the needle pierced her throat, she had never considered herself anything but brave and ready to battle. In truth she had been tested and had failed miserably. Cowardice had darkened her soul.
“’Twould seem Magnhildur practiced her heinous magik and evil ways on my wife.” Xára listened
as Dráddør related what she had told him in the herbarium.
Skatha hissed. “’Tis indeed heinous. I cannot believe you must treat this venomous woman as a guest.”
“She is e’en worse than you could imagine. I itch to see her punished,” Nyssa declared. “As I am cert you do, Dráddør.”
“Have no doubt. Magnhildur will get what she deserves.” Dráddør’s grim tone somehow comforted Xára and when he draped an arm around her shoulder, she leaned into him.
“We stand as one,” Brökk stated. “Your enemy is ours, Xára. Neither Konáll nor I nor Dráddør will rest until you are avenged. We will spend the winter with you if necessary, but vengeance must be done.”
“Aye. You, Evie, and Lady Jennie are family. We protect what is ours,” Konáll pronounced.
“Trust me, Xára, they mean each word they utter.” Skatha fed Jorunn another oatcake. “Our Viking husbands are men of honor. Scum like Néill and Magnhildur deserve naught but death. Hopefully, a slow, painful death.”
Xára couldn’t stifle a broad grin. That this slender, sweet-faced woman could utter such words both shocked and pleased her immensely. Mayhap her abbey dreams of a raucous, loving family could be attained after all.
“Show Nyssa the scar,” Dráddør commanded.
Xára swept a surreptitious glance around the great hall. ’Twas well before dawn’s onset and the few others in the hall were servants busy with their assigned tasks. None paid them attention. Guards had been posted at Magnhildur and Godfraid’s chamber with instructions to inform her the moment they heard the two guests stirring. She judged neither Godfraid nor his wife would venture from the turret until well after dawn.
She loosened the shawl tied under her neck and bared her throat.
Nyssa peered at the faint mark. “Let me feel it.”
She set her four fingers to the injured spot.
Xára’s flesh heated and began to tingle. A humming noise rang in her ears. The room spun faster and faster.
Chapter Ten
Dráddør couldn’t drag his stare from Nyssa and Xára.
The hustle and bustle of the castle faded.
He held his breath and prayed to every god he knew of, Odin, Thor, Freya, and even the Christian god, Jesus. Vowed to offer any sacrifice, surrender an arm or a leg. Anything, if Nyssa healed Xára’s voice.
Nyssa shuddered. She gasped. Her eyes rolled back in her head. She collapsed.
In one fell swoop, Konáll caught his wife before she hit the stone floor.
Xára swayed.
Dráddør leapt to her side and scooped his wife into his arms. His heart hammered and he scanned her face with an unheralded anxiety. She had swooned. Her flesh had paled to the point where the blue-green veins pulsing at her temples were clearly visible. He cupped her cheek and cursed. Her skin was clammy and icy.
“Xára.” He patted her face. “Xára.”
“Here.” Skatha handed him a warm, damp cloth. “Nyssa is much in the same condition.”
Gently, he wiped the dampness from her face. When he lifted her chin to do the same to her throat, his gut twisted in a violent knot. A thin viscous stream of black oozed from where the scar once was. “What is it?”
“Methinks, ’tis what poisoned her voice.” Skatha glanced to the left. “Konáll?”
“Nyssa has the same wound,” Konáll snapped. “Skatha, to me. Should the babe be moving like this?”
Dráddør hauled his gaze from Xára.
Konáll had laid Nyssa on the high table. Her swollen stomach undulated in quick waves.
Skatha rushed onto the dais and leaned over Nyssa. “Rest your hands on her belly, Konáll. Let the babe feel the warmth of your touch. ’Twill calm him or her. Jorunn moved in a similar manner during my last days.”
“Last days?” Konáll’s barked question held more than a hint of panic. “The babe is due at the winter solstice. ’Tis too soon.”
“Be at ease Konáll. I miss spoke. Jorunn moved like this during the last two moons I carried him. Look, Nyssa awakes.” Skatha poured wine into a goblet.
Konáll bent low over his wife, but kept his hands splayed over her belly. “Nyssa, be still. Nay, do not try to sit up yet.”
“How is Xára?” Nyssa turned her head to stare at Dráddør.
“She is still in a swoon. Her throat oozes.”
“So does yours, wife. ’Tis as I feared, the poison has affected you and the babe.” Konáll stroked Nyssa’s rippling belly. “The babe will not quiet.”
“Our child lives.” Nyssa set her hands atop Konáll’s. “Our son is not harmed. Skatha, give me a damp cloth. I want to cleanse this vile substance from my flesh. Dráddør, you must do the same for Xára.”
“Why does she not awake, Nyssa?” The thick liquid had dripped nigh to Xára’s breasts. He wiped the black trail away and glanced at the injury to see more of the revolting substance bubbling from the tiny hole.
“I am not cert, Dráddør. Methinks she needs all her strength to purge the poison from her body. Help me to sit up, Konáll.” Nyssa rose onto her forearms.
“’Tis too public a setting for such private matters. We must move elsewhere,” Skatha declared as she reached to take Jorunn from Brökk.
“Agreed.” Brökk kissed the top of his wife’s head.
“Will not Magnhildur and Godfraid come to break their fast anon? You must take Xára to your chamber at once, Dráddør. That witch must know naught of this. Konáll, help me up the stairs. I will sit with Xára.” Nyssa swung her legs down from the table. “Skatha and Brökk may as well accompany us so we can explain all only the once.”
Konáll hauled his wife into his arms.
Dráddør scanned the chamber as he carried Xára to the stairs. There were not many about as yet. He spied a few boys tending to the two hearths. A couple of maids chatted as they scrubbed down the tables and benches near the hall’s doors. None seemed to have noticed anything amiss.
He raced up the stairs trying not to jostle Xára too much. The poison seemed to be oozing at a faster and faster rate and the front of her gown was now stained with the toxic liquid.
Her eyelids never flickered. She remained limp and boneless in his arms. ’Twas only the slight rise and fall of her chest that gave him hope. He quelled his rising alarm and lengthened his stride.
When he settled her on the bed, Xára didn’t stir once. He hurried to the porcelain bowl, dampened a cloth, and rushed back to his wife. When he touched her flesh his alarm ratcheted. She had grown ice-cold.
“How is she?”
Dráddør glanced over his shoulder to find Konáll carrying Nyssa to them. “The poison flows freely and she is as cold as frost. Her gown is stained and wet.”
“I will help you change her.” Skatha, followed by Brökk, traipsed into the room. “Brökk and Konáll, wait outside.”
It took the three of them, Skatha, Nyssa, and him, to strip and re-dress Xára because she was so limp.
“Call them back inside Skatha. Dráddør, bring me all the drying cloths, and the bowl of water. Mayhap you should warm it first. She is so cold.” Nyssa sponged away the toxic liquid as fast as it appeared.
Dráddør’s hands shook so much that he nigh spilled the water from the basin. He set the clay bowl in the hearth, gathered the cloths, and gave them to Nyssa.
“Do not be of faint heart. She is a warrior and will not allow the poison to win. Think you on this, Xára knows Magnhildur is here. She will ne’er allow any to hurt her mother or Evie.”
’Twas true. Dráddør snatched at Nyssa’s reasoning, desperate to believe Xára would live. He glanced up when Konáll and Brökk, accompanied by Skatha, strode into the room.
“Konáll, set the stool by the bed, so Nyssa can sit. Nyssa, let me do that while you rest your feet. Your back will ache from bending o’er like that.” Skatha inserted herself 2tween Nyssa and the bed. “What should we do with the stained cloths?”
“Collect them and have them burned along with the spice ch
est. Outside of the keep.” Nyssa rubbed the small of her back.
Konáll grabbed the high-back chair and deposited it near to the bed. He curled an arm abound his wife and helped her to sit. “You are pale, wife.”
“I am weary, I admit.” Nyssa leaned her head on the chair’s back and smiled at her husband. “Methinks, ’twas the shock of the poison. I was prepared to heal a ruptured vein or somewhat similar injury. Worry not, husband. You wed the daughter of a goddess. I am not weak.”
Skatha motioned for Dráddør to bring her the water and then hiked onto the mattress.
After checking the temperature of the water, Dráddør first placed the low table at Skatha’s side and then set the bowl on the scarred wood. He felt useless and could do naught but stare at Xára and offer the gods promises in return for her life.
“Dráddør, mayhap now you can tell us of this evil Magnhildur?” Skatha asked.
Glad of the distraction, he organized his thoughts before replying. To explain Magnhildur, first he had to speak of Arnfinn, Lady Jennie, Xára, Evie, and Néill. As he spoke, Dráddør tried to group the facts together. His gaze never strayed from Xára’s wan face.
When he finished speaking there was total silence, save for the hissing of the green wood in the fire.
“I cannot imagine a more horrible torture. That Xára watched Magnhildur pierce her throat, but could do naught. I would kill Magnhildur myself, but ’twould deny you your revenge. I beg you—make her end exquisite with pain.” Skatha’s flushed cheeks spoke of the rage she felt.
“’Twould seem motherhood has not tamed your temper,” Konáll remarked.
“Wait till your bairn is born. You will find that you are ready to defend any who threaten those you love. Xára’s enemy is mine, just as yours and Nyssa’s foes are mine. ’Twould not take much to goad me into harming her.”
“We will wreak the revenge on Magnhildur and Néill, wife. You are not to use your jötunn strength on the bitch.” Brökk waved a finger at Skatha.
“Jötunn strength?” Nyssa inspected Skatha carefully. “You have come into new half-immortal powers?”
“Nay. Save for my ability to leap mighty oaks and climb a smooth wall, I am as you remember. The daughter of the goddess Skaði and King Kenneth. Not so, husband?”
