Outsider

by Klaire de Lys

  Dag reached into his bag and placed the jasmine garland he had made between them, before moving the piles of earth over their bodies. The mud swirled down into the hole like it was water, twisting and twirling until it finally covered them.

  ‘Faðir? Matir!’ Astrid whispered behind him, repeating the words over and again as if in prayer.

  Dag pulled the thistle plant from his bag and carefully unwrapped the cloth strips surrounding the roots. He dug a hole with his hands in the dirt and placed the thistle roots inside it, firmly pressing the soil tightly around it.

  Standing up, he raised his hands and closed his eyes. The rocks in the ground around him pushed their way up through the earth like moles, slithering towards the mound and piling up around it; sliding around the newly planted thistle and securing it in its new home. Each stone carefully slotted against the one beside it forming a beautiful, knotted pattern. The final stone rolled up the stony mound and fell into the last open space with a loud chink. Dag lowered his hand and returned to Astrid.

  ‘It’s ok, goldheart,’ he said, picking her up in his arms. ‘You’re coming home with me.’

  Walking into the hut, Dag looked around. He knew they couldn’t stay there; it would be haunted forever now to Astrid, but the thought of pulling her away from the only home she had known was almost as bad as the realisation that Sylbil and Arnbjörg were dead.

  He had been there when the first foundations were laid. He had helped them erect the solid stone walls and had returned the following spring to help them build the rooms in the trees’ branches. Behind every stone, rafter and plank, there was a story, but now he had to leave it to let nature tear it down.

  Dag lowered Astrid to a chair and told her to wait for him as he climbed the stairs.

  In the far corner of the room next to Sylbil’s and Arnbjörg’s bed was a low table holding several wood carvings. Various sharp knives and carving tools littered it, and in the centre was a small, carved house, an almost perfect replica of their home. Alongside it was what must have been the last of the figurines Sylbil had been working on before their murderers arrived, Dag thought. Arnbjörg’s distinctive long hair and beard was carved into the pine wood, and its hollowed out eyes stared up at him. Only Arnbjörg’s feet remained uncarved. The figurine’s body appeared to have grown at random from the small pine block, although the whittling knife beside it told otherwise.

  Dag stepped away and headed to Astrid’s room, a tiny room decorated with an abundance of things that had been unearthed in the forest. Several old birds’ nests lined the rafters and a wind catcher hung over her bed with hundreds of feathers attached to it. Magpie, crow, pheasant and woodpecker feathers, and even some of the more exotically coloured eggshells, which Arnbjörg must have recovered from the forest floor when he went hunting for food, had made their way into it.

  The upper walls of the second floor were all constructed of wood and Astrid had carved her name in Mál and Jaxeti in the boards several times, no doubt the previous summer when Sylbil and Arnbjörg had decided it was time to teach their daughter to write in their native languages. Dag knew that Astrid struggled with Mál in particular, the elven language. Jaxeti had come a lot more naturally to her.

  Dag made a mental note to keep on teaching Astrid; it would have been what her parents had wanted. She was a child of both worlds; it was only right that she continued to be taught about her rich, mixed heritage.

  Dag grabbed the quilted blanket from her bed and opened all of the hand-made drawers in Astrid’s room, carefully moving her clothes and belongings into the centre of the blanket. Felix would only be able to carry so much, the old creature was worn and tired, but Dag was determined to take everything he could.

  The following months would be hard on her, having to readjust to her new life, and the least he could do was take as much of her old life with him as possible.

  ‘Can we stay?’ Astrid’s voice whispered from the doorway. Dag turned around and saw her staring up at him with one of Sylbil’s arrows held loosely in her hand.

  ‘We need to leave, goldheart,’ Dag replied, kneeling down in front of her and resting his hands on her shoulders. ‘Those people might come back. We need to leave.’

  ‘I could fight them,’ Astrid whispered, tears filling her eyes. ‘You can help me fight them!’

  ‘I can’t, goldheart! I can’t protect you here,’ Dag said.

  ‘Please Mossi! Please!’

  He shook his head. ‘It’s not safe. Take anything you want, but we have to go.’

  Astrid turned and padded back into her parents’ room, climbed onto the bed and buried her head under the blanket. The familiar smell made her feel safe and warm for just a few moments. Pulling it around her like a cloak, Astrid walked back to Dag who had collected the last of her things. He took her hand and slung the rough sack made from her blanket over his shoulder and headed downstairs.

  ‘Is there anything else you want?’ Dag asked her as they ambled outside.

  Astrid glanced around her and then walked over to the grave. She picked up Arnbjörg’s hammer axe and Sylbil’s bow and quiver.

  ‘I want these,’ she said firmly, trying to lift the heavy axe but failing. Dag picked it up for her.

  ‘Ok, goldheart. We can take those.’

  After loading up Astrid’s belongings onto the pony, Dag cupped his hands under her arms to lift her onto Felix’s back, but she quickly stepped away, her face terrified.

  ‘I don’t want to ride!’

  ‘Astrid you must! You can’t walk. Just ride Felix for a while. He’s nice!’

  ‘No!’ Astrid yelled back, staring at the pony, horrified. Felix mashed his hooves into the ground, sensing Astrid’s magic, her anger making him agitated.

  Again, Dag tried to pick Astrid up and settle her onto Felix’s back, but she screamed and tore herself away from him, her hand pushing against the pony’s neck, her palms glowing. Felix shrieked out in terror as a burning brand-like pain shot across its back. The skin Astrid had touched curled in on itself, as if it had been burnt.

  ‘Astrid!’ Dag shouted in shock, dropping her to the ground. Felix bolted and Astrid crawled away from them, frightened, yelling again and again that she would not ride the pony. Her hand glowed and she wrapped her parents’ blanket closer around her.

  ‘Ok! Ok!’ Dag conceded, coaxing her closer. He took her hand and held Felix’s bridle in the other. ‘You don’t need to ride him, you can just walk.’

  As they headed through the trees, Astrid turned several times to look back at the house and watched as it slowly disappeared from sight. Grasping Dag’s hand tighter the further they walked away, her breathing quickened, and although she tried to calm herself, she felt nothing but panic.

  Everything was gone.

  Leaving

  ‘Knud! Knud! Wake up!’

  Knud rubbed at his eyes, the warm blankets feeling so much more comfortable in the fogginess of his awakening.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he mumbled, slightly alarmed at the sight of his uncle’s attire. His bleary eyes swept over the hundreds of small metal plates held together by leather binding, the light armour that allowed Jarl to move more easily than the full, heavy steel armour which was worn in battle.

  ‘Nothing’s wrong,’ Jarl said quickly. ‘We’re leaving Bjargtre.’

  ‘Why? Where are we going?’

  ‘Lǫgberg.’

  ‘Lǫgberg!’ Knud exclaimed, his whole face lighting up. ‘Why are we going there?’

  ‘I have friends I want to see there,’ Jarl lied, ‘but we’re leaving now. I’ve already packed everything we need, you just need to get dressed.’

  Jarl left the room, and even before he’d closed the door behind him, Knud leapt from his bed and changed into the clothes Jarl had left for him, not even noticing that his old coat had been replaced with a newer one with rabbit fur lining. Pulling on his boots and nearly toppling over in his excitement, he headed into the hallway.

  In the great hall,
Jarl ran his hands along the wall, praying that this would not be the last time he spent in his family home. Holmvé and Halvard were waiting for him, Holmvé slouched at the table and doing her best not to cry.

  ‘You’d better send for us soon, you hear?’ she sniffed, getting to her feet and striding up to him. Her old brown eyes glared at his. ‘If you don’t, I’ll have some serious words to say.’

  Jarl reached into his pocket and passed her a sealed scroll. His face was serious as he pressed it into her hand.

  ‘Don’t open it till we’re gone,’ he said, and Holmvé nodded and tucked it into the large pocket at the front of her apron.

  ‘I made some food for you, I packed it in your bag. Knud would eat it all if I’d put it in his!’ Holmvé laughed and brushed a tear from her cheek.

  Jarl kissed her on the forehead, smiling at her, and she held him tightly like she had when he had been just a young dwarf.

  ‘Maybe you’ll find someone in Lǫgberg?’ She smiled and Jarl rolled his eyes at her, shaking his head. ‘And if you do she’d better be better than that vain cow Yrsa! I’ll never know what on earth your father was thinking. She was never suited to you!’

  ‘Who would you pick then?’ Jarl asked, grinning, the disgust on her face amusing him.

  ‘I would pick someone brave and smart. You’re not the brightest star in the heavens, so she would have to make up for that,’ Holmvé replied. Halvard chuckled behind her. ‘And kind, she would have to be kind, just like you.’

  ‘She won’t have to be beautiful then?’ Halvard said, and Holmvé turned and flashed him a withering look.

  ‘Take it from the old; all faces lose their beauty with age,’ Holmvé replied.

  Knud strolled into the kitchen and picked up his bag. Smelling the cakes Holmvé had packed at the top of Jarl’s bag, he opened it inquisitively.

  ‘Stay away from those!’ Holmvé barked, and smacked him playfully across the head. She turned to Jarl. ‘You’d better go now,’ she sniffed, rubbing at her old eyes and pushing Jarl towards the large, oak door, ‘before I decide to make you stay.’

  Halvard and Knud walked through first and Jarl turned to Holmvé, taking her hand in his and holding it firmly.

  ‘I’ll send for you as soon as I get there,’ he said, smiling at her reassuringly. But his eyes looked just as worried as hers.

  ‘I know you will lad, now go on! And find yourself a wife if you can! Soon you’ll be as old as me!’

  Jarl turned and walked with the others down the stone street, the lamps that lined the walls glowing red.

  Holmvé closed the door and took a deep breath, then rubbed at her eyes once more before reaching into her apron pocket. She carefully opened the scroll Jarl had given her and took a few moments to read it. At first confusion washed over her face before shock replaced it. She ran to the door and opened it, desperate to run after Jarl, but the road was empty. They had gone.

  Holmvé sat down on the ground, dazed. She read through the scroll one last time with tears streaming down her face.

  * * *

  Knud was exited, trotting alongside Jarl on his pony and driving him slightly mad. Every several minutes Jarl had to shout at him to not canter so far ahead, even though he knew the goblins would not be a problem until night fall. They had grown daring but not yet so daring as to attack in broad daylight.

  They hadn’t taken the old road, but one of the many winding paths over the hills and mountains, some of which had been unused for such a long time that they were barely more than dirt trails for animals. Tall pines surrounded them for miles and fallen pines constantly blocked their way.

  ‘He’s going to wear himself and that pony down if he carries on like that,’ Halvard muttered. Jarl grinned and nodded his head.

  ‘Let him! Let him enjoy himself while he still can.’

  ‘You mean before he realises how dangerous this is?’

  Hearing them talking, Knud turned his pony around. ‘Are you talking about me?’

  ‘Course not,’ Jarl lied, his face expressionless.

  ‘How long will we be staying in Lǫgberg?’ Knud asked, still jumping up and down on the pony’s back.

  Jarl’s patience finally snapped. ‘I’m not sure. A few months or so. And can you please stop doing that and ride properly?’

  ‘What are you going to do there? Are you going to become a guard? Or maybe the Queens guard!’

  ‘I don’t know!’ Jarl laughed. Knud’s optimistic enthusiasm was endearing and Jarl secretly prayed he would not have to leave Knud in Halvard’s charge, knowing the dwarf’s constant pessimism would eventually affect him. He already had so much to be sad about and the last thing Jarl wanted to be taken from Knud was his positive, though admittedly naive outlook on life.

  ‘And what about me? What will I do?’

  ‘You could train with the other nobles. They have better teachers in Lǫgberg; you would become a great warrior.’

  ‘But I can become a great warrior now! I mean, we’ll be traveling through the wild for months! There will be Frǫðleikr and goblins! I’ll be a great warrior by the time I get to Lǫgberg!’

  Laughing, Jarl shook his head, trotted alongside Knud and ruffled his hair. ‘Ride to the ridge up ahead and look out for goblins.’

  ‘When are you going to tell him?’ Halvard whispered when Knud was out of earshot. Jarl’s smile disappeared and he pressed his mouth into a hard line.

  ‘I’ll tell him when he’s ready, or when I have to.’

  ‘He’s got a lot of growing up to do.’

  ‘He’s done a lot of growing up as it is,’ Jarl snapped back, irritated by Halvard’s constant attempt to strip Knud of his childhood. ‘Let him enjoy his youth while he still can.’

  * * *

  Knud was tired, sore, grumpy, and hurting in places he didn’t know could hurt. After three days of riding during the day and sleeping with one eye open during the night, any romantic notions he had had of travelling through the wild were well and truly buried. He rode silently alongside Jarl, with Halvard scouting ahead of them.

  ‘Tired?’ Jarl asked grinning, amused at seeing him so quiet.

  ‘Yes. When will we get there?’

  ‘It’ll be another three days. Only a few more hours on the road and we can take some of the human river boats to Einn. They’ll be safer than the road. We can trade the ponies for passage.’

  ‘Humans? I get to see humans!’ Knud exclaimed, a little of his enthusiasm returning.

  ‘Yes. But you will stay near me, understand? And I’ll do the talking, not you! If you see any other dwarves, do not talk to them. And you mustn’t tell them your name.’

  ‘Why?’ Knud asked, confused.

  ‘If you outrank them, they could try and use it to shame you in public. Especially if someone like Áfastr Gull was to find out.’

  ‘Why do the Gull’s hate us so much?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Jarl said. ‘I think it has something to do with my father, I never got to ask him before he died.’

  ‘And why is it bad to trade with the humans?’ Knud asked, barely waiting for Jarl to have answered his first question.

  ‘It’s not bad. In fact I think it’s stupid that we don’t trade with people closer to our borders. Lǫgberg is too far away; it would make a lot more sense to trade with Einn.’

  ‘Don’t tell him that!’ Halvard snapped, riding up next to them. ‘Knud, the reason we only trade with dwarves is because you can only trust your own people. The humans, they’re different. Different ways, different customs. When you’re not the same it causes problems. It’s safer to trade with dwarves.’

  ‘But what about the elves? Why don’t we trade with them?’

  ‘Don’t ask stupid questions!’ Halvard snapped. Jarl shook his head, praying that if he did have to leave Knud with Halvard it wouldn’t be for long.

  ‘It wasn’t a stupid question, Knud,’ Jarl said quietly under his breath. ‘We haven’t traded with them since the Rojóða wars.’ />
  ‘That was a long time ago, wasn’t it?’

  ‘At least three thousand years. Nobody knows exactly how long ago it was.’

  Jarl stiffened his back and pulled on the reins, bringing his pony to a halt. ‘Hold up, Halvard,’ he said, reaching into his bag for his flask. He popped the cork from the top and raised it to his lips.

  ‘Do you think you’ll ever get married?’ Knud suddenly asked and Jarl, nearly choking on his water, spluttered loudly.

  ‘Do you think you’ll find a lady to marry in Lǫgberg?’ he went on, grinning like an imp.

  ‘A lady? Haha! No, Jarl will end up marrying a servant or a shield maiden! He’s far too simple for a lady!’ Halvard laughed but quickly wiped the smile from his face when he saw the dark look flash across Jarl’s eyes. There were a few things that Jarl would not tolerate being teased about and this was one of them. He turned his pony and trotted on ahead.

  ‘Vard told me you were courting his mother once,’ Knud said, knowing he could get away with asking things Halvard could not.

  ‘Yrsa Gull? Yes. Once.’

  ‘Why didn’t you marry her?’

  ‘I didn’t like her.’

  ‘So, who would you marry?’

  Jarl chuckled. ‘Why are you in such a rush to marry me off?’

  ‘I’m not. But if you do, I was wondering what my aunt would be like.’

  ‘I won’t get married, Knud.’

  ‘Why?’

  Jarl sighed. ‘Because if I marry a woman who is not a noble, then I will lose you.’

  ‘What? Why?’ Knud said, his eyes widening in horror.

  ‘Look, there’s nothing to worry about. It’s not going to happen. But if I marry lower than my rank, I can’t raise you. It’s the law.’

  Knud was silent for a moment as they trotted ahead, but then he turned his face to his uncle. ‘Please don’t get married,’ he begged, only partly joking.