Outsider

by Klaire de Lys

* * *

  With a start, Jarl woke up, his head dipping below the surface of the bath water for a moment. He panicked as the water made an attempt to fill his lungs and he sat up quickly, panting heavily, rubbing his face to wake himself.

  ‘Idiot!’ he muttered. He climbed out of the tub and furiously dried himself, then shivering, got back into his clothes.

  The last time he had had to revisit that terrible day in his dreams had been months ago, and he had prayed with all his might that it was the last time, despite knowing that the dreams would haunt him all his life.

  Jarl pulled on his boots and unlocked the door to his room. Within seconds he was hammering on Knud’s door, desperate for him to answer. There was a shuffling sound and then footsteps from within.

  It was always like this after the dreams; a deep but irrational fear washing over him that something had happened to Knud. He always had to check, to make sure. He would never forgive himself if...

  The key turned in the lock and Knud stood in the doorway, his sleepy brown eyes looking up at him.

  ‘Are we going?’ Knud asked, slightly worried.

  ‘No. No...I just wanted to check you were sleeping alright,’ Jarl replied. ‘Go back to bed and lock the door.’

  Groggily, Knud shook his head in confusion and closed the door, and Jarl waited until he heard the key turn in the lock before heading back to his room.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ Halvard snapped, and Jarl turned to see a pair of furious eyes staring at him. ‘It’s not even bloody dawn! Go back to sleep!’

  Jarl nodded, returned to his room and closed the door. He slumped onto the floor and concentrated on his breathing, trying to stop it from getting out of hand. Resting his head against his hands, he took several deep breaths, each one more controlled than the last.

  ‘Come on! You’re being stupid! You’ve got to stop doing this!’ he whispered to himself.

  He hated this. If the dreams weren’t bad enough, the panic that overtook him each time afterwards was in some ways much worse. To become a slave to such a stupid, paranoid fear made him feel too much like he had that day; useless. Helpless.

  Jarl got to his feet and fell into bed, pulling the blankets tightly around him. Hopefully this time, the nightmares would stay away.

  * * *

  Through the small circular window, Jarl saw the sky outside turning orange as the sun began to rise. The edges of the leaded window fogged.

  He left the room and walked down the old pine stairs, his eyes heavy, dry and sore from lack of sleep. He half considered dunking his head in the horse trough outside if it would stop him from feeling so utterly exhausted and groggy.

  The inn was silent. The innkeeper was asleep by the fireplace on an old couch, the feet of which had been chewed to pieces by various dogs that had come into the inn with their masters. Fresh hay had been strewn across the floor, all of the tables had been wiped down clean, and the fireplace smouldered slightly, a few of the coals still glowing amid the mountain of grey ash which surrounded them.

  Being careful to walk quietly, Jarl opened the inn door, groaning as the cold air hit him. He rubbed his hands together and stepped out into the street.

  Skad had said last time he had visited Bjargtre that he would be staying in Einn for the two weeks leading up Miðsumar. There were only five days left now, so if Skad had done what he had intended, he would be here by now.

  Jarl screwed up his eyes as the sun finally made its way over the horizon, the first few rays catching him in the eye and temporarily blinding him. Shielding his face, he strolled towards The Red Barge and opened the door.

  The inn was similar to The Knot, just smaller and considerably dirtier. The paved ground was covered in a carpet of old hay that looked like it had not been cleared for days. The tabletops still glistened with the spilled ale from the previous night.

  Next to the fireplace, a large mastiff lifted its head as Jarl closed the door behind him, the animal as poorly groomed as the building. Although it was clearly well fed, its fur was matted with hay and dirt. Jarl eyed the dog warily and it growled at him as it got to its feet, waking the innkeeper who was sprawled on a thin mattress beside him.

  ‘What do you want?’ the innkeeper groaned.

  ‘I’m here to see Skad.’

  ‘Skad?’

  ‘Skad Löfgren.’

  ‘Oh, him,’ he muttered, slumping back down and reshuffling the hay of his mattress. ‘Third hallway, fifth door.’ He tossed a log onto the smouldering embers and motioned lazily to the hallway opposite before turning away from Jarl and back towards the fireplace.

  Jarl headed down the hallway, finally stopping at the door that had a number five crudely scraped into it.

  Skad would be angry if Jarl woke him, but the man was always in a foul mood so it really made no difference if Jarl spoke to him now or later. Making a fist, he rapped firmly on the door and waited.

  Throwing open the door, Skad opened his mouth to yell at whatever ignorant soul had dared to disturb him, despite the fact he had been awake for a few hours now, but the words caught in his throat as soon as he saw Jarl.

  ‘And you couldn’t wait a few more hours for me to wake up?’

  ‘Don’t lie, you’ve been up for hours,’ Jarl snapped back, trying to be civil, but something about Skad had always annoyed him. His perpetual bad temper and cruel remarks to everyone who crossed his path was enough to make anyone dislike him within a few minutes of meeting him.

  ‘Common courtesy, Jarl! Did that die with the rest of your family?’

  Jarl clenched his fists and walked into the room, and Skad slammed the door without any thought for the other people sleeping in the rooms adjacent.

  ‘So...you ended up coming,’ Skad muttered. He stood by the door and crossed his arms, glaring at Jarl from beneath his thick, bushy white brows. His grey eyes had lost their darker outer ring to age, but they were still as alert as the day he had been born and glistened like those of an animal.

  ‘Yes. You said there would be a human traveller here who could escort us to Lǫgberg if we came before Miðsumar.’

  ‘Huh? Oh...yes, Outlander is here,’ Skad replied. ‘I’ll ask tonight. Where are you staying?’

  ‘The Knot.’

  ‘Right. Then wait there. I’ll make sure she’s there tonight.’

  ‘She?’ Jarl exclaimed.

  ‘That’s what I said isn’t it?’ Skad snapped.

  For a moment Jarl said nothing, surprised. When he had spoken to Skad about this before, he had given him the impression that the Outlander was a man.

  ‘Do you vouch for her, this human?’

  ‘Yes I do! And she is the only one mad enough to take you. Now get out and let me sleep!’ He stepped aside to let Jarl through and then slammed the door as loudly as he could behind him.

  Jarl walked back down the hall, shaking his head, and out of the Red Barge door, being careful to not wake the innkeeper who he was surprised to see snoring loudly by the fireplace.

  Not wanting to return to The Knot quite yet, he ambled up the street. He was already nervous about this journey. It would be long and dangerous, and having a human escorting them just made it more unsettling. But the only other options had been to risk the journey on their own or ask Skad to take them, the latter of the two being completely out of the question. One day with the dwarf was bad enough, but months on the road would be hell.

  Jarl stopped walking, closed his eyes and took a deep breath, telling himself that they would be alright. If Skad recommended her then there was no doubt she was one of the best. Skad was a proud man and Jarl could not remember him ever vouching for anyone, so whomever this Outlander was, she was the best they could ask for.

  A Little Magic

  38 years ago...

  Astrid opened her hand and focused on bringing her energy to the centre of it. Her fingers glowed blue and the light travelled up them and swirled in her palm like a ripple.

  ‘I’m doing it!’ Astrid s
aid, her eyes lighting up.

  ‘No! Don’t speak. Focus!’ Ragi said. Astrid’s face dropped and the light began to flicker and finally disappeared. She clenched her hand into a tight fist and growled in frustration.

  ‘I don’t understand why I can’t do it!’ she said. ‘I’m trying so hard! Why won’t Dag teach me?’

  ‘Dag...is afraid what magic will do to you.’

  ‘Why? Magic is just magic.’

  ‘That’s why! It’s not just magic. It’s your energy, and if you misuse or attempt magic that is too strong for you, it will kill you. You cannot cheat it.’

  ‘I’m not trying to cheat it! I just want to use it!’ Astrid yelled.

  Ragi raised an eyebrow, his face serious, and she bowed her head.

  ‘I’m sorry I shouted.’

  He had been extremely patient with her over the last few months, agreeing to teach her the little magic he knew if she promised to not tell Dag. She had tried numerous times to convince Dag to teach her but the warlock had refused, a terrified look washing over his face every time she suggested it.

  ‘Why is he so scared of it? He uses it all the time, yet he won’t teach me.’

  ‘You are angry, Astrid. Magic is extremely dangerous when you’re angry.’

  ‘I just want to feel strong, Ragi. He won’t teach me to fight, either.’

  Sighing, Ragi crouched down in front of her. ‘I want you to imagine your head is inside your heart. I don’t want you to think; I want you to feel.’

  Nodding, Astrid closed her eyes and turned her hand over so the palm was facing towards the ground.

  ‘Now, imagine you are moving your heart to the middle of your hand. Feel it, Astrid.’

  Slowly at first, Astrid’s palm began to glow again and Ragi noticed that once of the quartz crystals he kept on his shelf was trembling. He turned back to her, a thin smile on his face.

  ‘Now, imagine your heart is going back to where it belongs, but it’s going to leave a small piece of it behind.’

  At first the light in her hand faded, but then just as quickly as it had dimmed, the light picked up again. It rose above the surface of her skin at a painfully slow rate, flickered for a moment, and then fell back again. It rose and fell several times before it finally hovered above her skin like a floating feather.

  ‘Now Astrid...I want you to take the light and move it exactly how you want to. That small piece of your heart has to become what you want.’

  No sooner had the words left his mouth, there was a bright flash. The blue magic in her hand transformed into a deep orange with tinges of red around the edges. Astrid opened her eyes and glared down at it. The magic rose and twisted into the shapes of horses with riders on their backs, their swords and axes raised. Astrid curled her fingers and crushed them in her hand. The magic disappeared in a puff of smoke.

  ‘I want to kill them,’ she hissed. Her green eye caught in the candlelight and for a moment she looked chillingly snake-like.

  Ragi dashed from the hut and returned a minute later with a rabbit in his hands. Its back legs were mangled and it struggled in pain, its eyes wide and terrified. Astrid stared at it in horror and the rabbit stared back at her with a similar expression.

  ‘What did you do to it?’ she shrieked.

  ‘Nothing. It was a fox. Now, you’re going to take it and heal it.’

  ‘What? No, I can’t!’ Astrid said, shuffling backwards, but Ragi walked forwards and placed it in her arms.

  ‘Help it. You know you can.’

  Flicking her eyes between Ragi and the rabbit, she tried to stop her hands from shaking. She could feel the rabbit’s pounding heartbeat beneath her fingers.

  You’re like me, aren’t you? she thought. You’re frightened.

  Taking a deep breath, Astrid smoothed her hand over the rabbit’s leg, closed her eyes and tried to picture a memory that would allow the magic to work.

  It always started the same. She remembered running into the house crying and her mother racing down from the upper rooms. Arnbjörg had taken her in his arms and explained to Sylbil that she had fallen and cut her knee. Sylbil had taken her, sat her on her lap, and laid her hand over the graze on her knee. When Astrid had felt a warm sensation spreading outwards from the cut, she’d looked down to see that it had healed.

  Astrid tried to stay with the memory, to make it stronger, but the faces of the elf and the dwarf filled her mind - the blonde haired dwarf with her cold grey eyes glaring at her through the space in her helmet... The tall, black haired elf with eyes as green as her mother’s, his long sword drawn with blood running down the blade...

  The rabbit began to struggle and the blue glow turned yellow. The wound on its leg, which had started to heal, suddenly shrivelled.

  ‘Astrid, stop!’ Ragi yelled, grabbing her wrists and lifting her hands away from the animal.

  She looked down at it - at its eyes rolled back in his head, its breath coming in short, sharp pants. Tears slid down Astrid’s cheeks and she curled her finger under its chin and gently stroked it.

  ‘I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!’ she whispered.

  ‘Astrid, don’t close your eyes this time,’ Ragi ordered. ‘Just look at it. Don’t take your eyes from it.’

  In the Aldwood she had always closed her eyes when she had healed something, but she couldn’t do that anymore. The memories were always too strong.

  She stroked the rabbit repeatedly, rhythmically, trying to calm it, and her hand began to glow again.

  ‘It’s ok, I’m going to help you,’ Astrid whispered, as the rabbit’s leg shuddered and the skin began to move. Its eyes relaxed and its heartbeat returned to a steady rhythm.

  Smiling, Ragi watched, relieved to see the frustrated look on Astrid’s face transform into a peaceful calm when the rabbit blinked, shook itself, jumped up, and darted out of the hut.

  ‘I did it! I did it!’ Astrid laughed, wrapping her arms around Ragi and hugging him.

  ‘Astrid! Where are you?’

  She pulled away from Ragi at the sound of Dag’s voice in the distance.

  ‘You’d better go,’ he said. ‘And you’d better take this.’ He passed her a small bag of dried fruit.

  Astrid ran out of the door, circling and avoiding Dag as he made his way towards Ragi’s hut.

  Ragi gathered the food he had put out for Astrid, quickly hid it in the cupboards behind him and stepped outside just as Dag appeared in the clearing.

  ‘Have you seen Astrid?’ Dag asked, clutching a doll in his hands, the crude stitches telling Ragi it was his friend’s latest attempt at sewing.

  ‘I sent her back to the house,’ Ragi said, grabbing Dag’s arm before he could turn back. ‘No, Dag, we need to talk.’

  ‘Talk? What about?’

  ‘I’ve been teaching Astrid magic.’

  In a split second, Dag’s eyes turned from distracted to pitch black, the pupils expanding and swallowing his pale blue iris.

  ‘You...WHAT?’

  ‘You heard me,’ Ragi said calmly, completely unphased. ‘And you need to teach her how to fight, Dag.’

  ‘I will not teach her how to fight! She’s just a child!’

  ‘No, she is not! Her childhood ended a year ago with her parents’ deaths. She’s a lost girl looking for some kind of control, and right now, she thinks it’s magic.’

  ‘She can’t use it! She’s too angry! She can’t even heal!’

  ‘She did today,’ Ragi said, smiling.

  Dag raised his eyebrows. ‘She did?’

  ‘Yes. We’ve been trying for a few weeks now, and today she managed it.’

  Dag said nothing, but his mouth turned up into a small smile. As he moved to leave, Ragi tugged him back again.

  ‘Dag, you need to take this seriously. One day she will leave, and when she does she will need to learn to protect herself. Please, teach her to fight.’

  ‘I can’t!’

  ‘Then find someone who will!’ Ragi snapped, his voice a terrifying bark, coarse
and guttural. ‘She needs it!’

  Ragi stormed back into his hut and Dag stared after him for a few moments before looking down at the doll. As he headed back home, Ragi’s words echoed in his head.

  * * *

  ‘I made this for you,’ Dag said, forcing a smile and passing Astrid the doll. His brow was furrowed into a worried knot.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, taking the doll and peering down at it. She absently picked at its hair, made from hundreds of thick black threads crudely tied into the doll’s cloth head. It had one green bead for the right eye and a grey bead for the left, the thread from the left eye loosening and hanging down across its face.

  Dag watched as Astrid ran her hands over it. Her eyes slowly glazed over and her mouth pressed itself into a tight line as she crushed one of its arms in her hand. A faint yellow glow appeared around her fingers and smoke rose from the fabric.

  ‘Astrid!’ Dag shouted.

  Astrid jumped. ‘Sorry!’ she said, and placed the doll on the table then held her hands tightly in her lap. She bowed her head, avoiding eye contact with Dag.

  ‘I’m going to teach you to fight,’ he finally said, and Astrid looked up at him in shock, sure she had heard wrong.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I have a...friend, he can teach you to fight,’ Dag said slowly. ‘I’ll get him to come here if you promise me one thing.’

  ‘What?’ Astrid asked excitedly, her eyes lighting up.

  ‘You must promise me you will not learn magic from anyone else except me,’ Dag said firmly. ‘I will teach you magic when I think you are ready, but you must not learn from Ragi or anyone else.’

  For a moment Astrid said nothing. She peered down at her hand, the centre of her palm a dim glow. Closing it, she looked up at Dag, her mind made up. She nodded and Dag smiled.

  ‘I’m not trying to be cruel, goldheart,’ he said softly, moving around the table and sitting down next to her. Astrid flinched slightly as he moved his arm around her shoulders, but she didn’t pull away.

  She couldn’t explain why, but over recent weeks she had started to develop an irrational fear of being touched, yet all the while being desperate for human interaction. She craved it, yet feared it. Each time Dag held her hand or hugged her, she couldn’t stop herself from shivering, from flinching, and Dag, hurt by her reaction, had become more and more distant, unsure of how to react.