Walking up to the monk serving the wine, Knud confidently asked for a cup of it, and the unsuspecting monk passed him a filled goblet of the dark purple liquid. Knud strolled over to the table and sat down, lifted the wine to his lips and tried to drink it as if he had done so a hundred times before.
At first the bitterness took him by surprise and he grimaced at the taste, placing the goblet back on the table. Then slowly, the sweet under taste kicked in and a warm, fuzzy feeling spread from his mouth to his fingers and toes. Knud lifted the goblet again and took another sip, the taste becoming more addictive with each gulp.
Before he realised it, he had finished it all. He stood to ask for another, but realising his legs were wobbly, he quickly put the goblet down and tried to walk out of the hall, his steps shaky.
‘Your uncle is going to kill you if he finds out!’ a soft gentle voice said behind him, and Knud turned around, almost falling over in the process. He saw Astrid standing behind him, her veil and wolf-skin gone, her clothes freshly cleaned.
‘Aaaaastriiiid! Such a pretty name!’
With her head wrap gone he could see her long, flowing black hair, the stubborn wavy curls held back from her face by two small plaits on either side of her head. Knud saw that the scars on her face extended down to her neck, one long, thin mark that looked like it had been made by a whip cutting through her brow and the bridge of her nose. The Dip scars were the most brutal of the marks, the scars almost trenches in her skin.
Not sure what to say, Astrid watched him, amused, and then a worried look flashed across her face as she realised how drunk he really was. Taking his hand firmly, she led him up the stairs into the upper levels of the monastery, Knud nearly falling over several times and Astrid having to help him.
She pulled him into the main dining hall and left him by the door. Slowly, she approached the Abbot and bowed respectfully before asking him for some charcoal cakes. The Abbot looked over her shoulder and burst into laughter as he saw Knud swaying by the door. The other monks laughed too, as Knud’s eyes started to spin in a circle.
‘I’m sorry! My friend is young and foolish, but I don’t want him to get into trouble with his uncle.’ Astrid grinned, and the Abbot passed her a bowl of small charcoal tablets the size of peas. Astrid took a few and walked back to Knud, insisting he swallow them. She handed him a goblet of water when he did.
‘You’re too young to drink Daru wine!’ She laughed as he pulled a face, the charcoal cakes starting to dissolve in his stomach and absorb the wine, making him feel a little sick.
‘Please don’t tell my uncle!’ Knud begged, and Astrid smiled. ‘You’re beautiful when you smile,’ he slurred, and she tried not to blush.
‘I won’t tell him,’ she said, her face lit up. ‘You’re just going to stay here with me for a few minutes till the charcoal starts working, and then you’re going to go back downstairs and promise me you will not take another drink without your uncle’s permission.’
‘Oh thank you!’ Knud said, stumbling forward and hugging her. Astrid tried to push him away, but Knud was still too drunk to care, his body too heavy, as he hugged her more tightly.
‘I promise I won’t ever drink again!’ he said, and Astrid pushed him away.
‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Knud,’ she said, leading him over to the stairs. “Come and sit down.’
Knud lowered himself unsteadily to the top step and Astrid joined him, neither of them noticing the four figures watching them from the other side of the adjoining courtyard.
‘You told me that Jarl isn’t your real uncle,’ Astrid said, knowing that in his present state she could ask him anything she wanted, and in all likelihood he would remember nothing the next day.
‘No. He’s my father’s best friend. My father was killed by goblins. One day I’m going to become a great warrior and kill them all,’ Knud managed to say, slurring half his words.
‘Not all goblins are bad, Knud,’ Astrid said softly, her eyes distant. ‘There are goblin families just like yours, their best friends and fathers killed by dwarves, or elves.’
‘All goblins are evil,’ Knud spat. ‘They killed my father.’
‘My best friend was a goblin. Ragi. He was a lovely goblin,’ Astrid said, and Knud looked at her in shock.
‘You were best friends with a goblin?’
‘Yes. He was very kind to me. Took care of me. I hated dwarves then as much as you hate goblins now. But no race is evil. Individuals can be good or bad. Don’t let one group make you hate the rest of them.’
‘Is that the Ragi who taught you to fight?’
‘Yes. He made that dagger I lent you.’
‘A goblin made that?’
‘Yes, he did!’ Astrid said smiling. ‘And all these,’ she said, pulling her foot out of her boot and showing Knud the strap around her leg with several small daggers tucked into it.
After a few minutes, Knud’s wooziness began to fade and was replaced with an overwhelming urge to sleep. Astrid helped him to his feet and held his hand as they made their way back to Knud’s dorm at the end of the hallway.
Suddenly, four tall strangers blocked their path: four elves, their hair a deep, dark red.
“Look!’ Knud slurred. ‘Their eyes are the same colour as your green one!’Astrid stiffened and dug her nails into Knud’s hand.
One of the elves reached out to touch her face and Astrid flinched, hitting his hand away. The other elves laughed.
‘What’s the matter, dwarf?’ one of them asked. ‘We just want to know what you are! You’re not a proper dwarf, that’s for sure; too light on your feet! Not fat enough!’
Ignoring them, Astrid moved to walk around them, her eyes fixed on the floor. The elves blocked her way again.
‘No! Don’t leave!’ They laughed, and one of them reached out for her face again and moved aside the braid that covered the tip of her right ear. There was a gasp as they saw the familiar elven point at the tip of it, and Astrid turned to face them, fire in her eyes.
‘You’re a mewa!’
Ignoring her anger, Astrid tried to bypass them, but again they stopped her, this time with a curious disgust on their faces.
‘So where’s your father from then?’ one of them hissed. Astrid closed her eyes, knowing what was coming.
‘What kingdom did the rapist dwarf come from?’
Knud’s mouth dropped open in shock. Astrid’s grip on his hand tightened and Knud winced. One of the elves leant forward to take a closer look at her eyes.
‘The mewa has a grey eye! So he’s from Lǫgberg! Of course he is!’ the elf said. The others moved in, circling her, and Astrid fixed her eyes on the ground. Knud was amazed at how restrained she was being.
‘Let me guess. She died in childbirth didn’t she? Killed herself giving birth to dwarf mutt!’
‘Guess he was happy!’
‘No way for her to tell people!’
‘Not that we didn’t know already. Dwarves are all just rapists!’
Hearing a commotion down the hall, Jarl got out of bed and traipsed into the hallway just in time to see one of the elves put his hand on Astrid’s shoulder. He watched from the doorway, with Halvard close behind, as Astrid gripped the elf’s hand and twisted it so violently that he heard the bone snap as the elf’s shoulder twisted out of its socket. He fell to the ground screaming.
Noticing Knud next to her, Jarl ran towards them. One of the elves reached out for Knud’s hair to try and drag him away.
With a loud thud, Jarl slammed his fist into the elf’s face, punching him so hard he almost span around twice before falling to the ground, knocked out cold. Jarl stood back to back with Astrid, the other elves circling them.
‘Another dwarf...another scumbag rapi-’ one of them began.
With one quick move, Astrid leapt from the ground, the heel of her foot slamming into the elf’s nose, breaking it. The movement was so swift and fluid it almost looked like she had been trying to dance.
The elf stumbled backwards, the pain from his broken nose blinding him temporarily, and dropped to his knees. Astrid brought her knee up to his chin as hard as she could and the elf fell to the ground. She straddled him and punched him repeatedly, beating his face to a bloody pulp in seconds. Jarl pulled the last elf away from her as he tried to hit Astrid from behind and threw him against the wall, punching him in the gut. The elf returned a punch, hitting Jarl squarely on the jaw.
Barely flinching from the blow, Jarl retaliated without mercy, as he had been trained to do. He took each blow that the elf laid on him as if they were nothing more than a mere annoyance, and fought back with double the skill and aggression of his attacker. His jaw was set in a fierce clench as he smashed his bare fists into the elf’s stomach as hard as he could, winding him before knocking him down to the ground with a knee to the face.
Feeling the elf go limp beneath her, Astrid turned on the last conscious elf. The elf turned to run as she moved after him, her eyes wide and wild and her mouth twisted into a vicious snarl, the scar over her lips making her look like an animal.
Astrid grabbed the elf by his long hair and shoved him back up against one of the pillars in the hall.
‘Please don’t hurt me!’ he cried.
Astrid leant forward slowly, her head at his height, and drew her dagger from her boot. The elf stared at her in horror and shrieked for help.
She moved her dagger to his throat. “Shut up! she hissed, and the elf, left with little alternative, was silenced.
‘You’re a noble aren’t you?’ Astrid whispered, leaning her head so close to the elf it looked like she was about to kiss him. Except right now, Jarl could see her expression and it looked like she might bite him instead, her teeth bared. ‘I met a noble once...do you like your ears?’
‘My wh...what?’ the elf stuttered, shivering, as Astrid ran her left hand over his ear, the blade in her other hand still pressed against his throat.
‘Your ears!’ Astrid repeated, smiling, the smile not reaching her cold, narrowed eyes.
‘Please don’t hurt me!’ the elf begged again as tears dripped down his cheeks.
Astrid chuckled, a deep, guttural laugh that promised pain. She moved the tip of her dagger over his lips to stop him talking and the elf whimpered and started to cry.
‘If I cut the top of your ear off, do you stop being an elf?’ Astrid asked. ‘Can I cut it off and keep it?’
The elf’s eyes widened as she moved aside the hair hanging over her torn ear tip, exposing it.
‘Please...! the elf pleaded with her again, and Astrid pushed the blade tightly against his lips again. Then, with one quick movement, she pulled her dagger away. The elf felt a small gust of air pass his ear and he reached up, screaming as he felt something wet on his fingers.
There were footsteps from above and several monks raced down the stairs.
Stepping back, Astrid re-sheathed her dagger and stood silently as the monks crowded around them, then she moved her hair back over her ear quickly, avoiding eye-contact with Jarl who was doing his best not to show his shock.
An elf! She’s a half-elf!
‘What happened?’ the Abbot asked, but Astrid stood silently and said nothing. The elf screamed from the ground that she had cut off his ear and the Abbot stepped forward to inspect it.
‘Stop screaming!’ It’s just a cut, you fool!’ he said.
‘What? It’s not gone?’ The elf gasped, relief on his face.
‘No it’s not. But you are! And your group! First thing tomorrow!’ the Abbot snapped back firmly.
‘But she attacked me!’
‘He’s lying! Jarl said, stepping forward.
Knud nodded. ‘They started it. They attacked her!’
Astrid said nothing, her fists clenched.
‘You will leave tomorrow and you will not return to this monastery again,’ the Abbot said firmly. The elf got to his feet and opened his mouth to argue, but when the monks stepped forward in unison towards him, moving their hands onto the knives they carried in their belts, the elf scuttled away.
‘Astrid, follow me,’ the Abbot ordered, and she bowed her head and obeyed.
Jarl turned to look at Knud. He checked Knud’s face to see if he had been hurt by the elves, and then demanded to know what happened. Knud told him everything, except for the fact he had been drinking and his conversation with Astrid.
‘She’s a Blanda blóð!’ Halvard said, his voice triumphant. ‘I knew there was something wrong with her!’
‘Don’t call her that!’ Knud snapped. ‘Don’t...don’t ever call her that!’ Halvard was shocked that the small dwarf would dare to talk to him in such a way. ‘She’s my friend!’
Storming back into the dorm, Knud stumbled over to his bed and Jarl raised an eyebrow suspiciously as he watched him from the doorway.
Knud pulled the blanket roughly over himself, not bothering to get under it, and prayed that once he woke up the horrible dizzy feeling would be gone.
* * *
‘It was my fault,’ Astrid said quickly, kneeling in front of the Abbot with her head bowed. ‘I have heard those words many times before. I should have had more control.’
Clearing his throat, the Abbot tried to ignore the pleading stares the other monks in the room were giving him. Those who didn’t know him well feared that he might kick Astrid out of the monastery too.
‘Astrid. You know I cannot condone how you behaved with the elves. They were our guests.’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
The Abbot took a deep breath. ‘And that is all I have to say,’ he said quickly. Some of the newer monks gasped, and the older monks who knew the Abbot smiled. One of them flashed Astrid a wide grin, and the Abbot gave him a reproachful look but did not disagree with him. He was half tempted to do the same himself.
He had been a young Abbot when Astrid had first come to the Salt Monasteries years ago, the second youngest Abbot ever in the history of the monastery.
All the monks had been curious about her when Astrid had made excuse after excuse to stay with them. Eventually she had stayed for over three years, only leaving for a few months once a year to return to the Heilagr forest in the Red Mountains, and to Dag, always leaving in the winter despite how hard it was to travel then.
She had changed so much since then; she was no longer the young and naive half-blood. But in some ways she was just the same. Just as tortured inside.
‘Erin, if you wish to stay with us, there are others who can take them to Lǫgberg,’ the Abbot suggested. Astrid shook her head.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘But if they still want me to take them, I will. Jarl and Halvard are good warriors, but the pass is dangerous, even for me. I don’t want Knud getting hurt.’
‘And if they don’t want you to take them?’
‘Then I’ll still go. They won’t need to know that I’m there. I said I would protect them, and I will.’
Winter
36 years ago...
Astrid looked around the forge, fascinated. Ragi showed her everything proudly, his hands lovingly running over every item as he told her about it.
Whilst almost every stone was stained black, everything was orderly and not a single tool was out of place. The coals in the forge glowed faintly. Above it was a tall chimney built into the centre of the room, and shelves and work desks lined the walls around it.
‘Is this where you made the rings for my parents?’ Astrid asked.
‘Yes. And the daggers, I made all of it here.’
‘Who taught you to make all of this?’
‘My mother. Nearly everyone from my tribe was a blacksmith.’
‘Your father? Did he teach you too?’
Ragi shook his head. ‘No. He was dead long before I was old enough to learn,’ he replied, matter-of-factly.
Quickly changing the topic, Astrid asked about what he would be making next, and Ragi reached up to one of the shelves near the forge and pulled out a box, opened it up, and pass
ed it to her. Several small, perfectly circular discs were inside, their edges serrated like hundreds of little teeth. Astrid picked one of them up, surprised to feel that they were actually extremely heavy.
‘What are they for?’ she asked, turning it over in her hand.
‘Throwing!’ Ragi said, his eyes twinkling. He picked one of them up and threw it with a strong flick of his hand. The disk flew past Astrid’s face with a whoosh and hit the wall behind her, embedding itself in the wood.
‘Wow!’ she whispered, pulling it out of the wall and passing it back to Ragi. ‘Can you teach me how to use them?’
‘What do you think I made them for?’ Ragi laughed, passing it back to her. Astrid twirled it in her hand, feeling how it was weighted before attempting to throw it.
‘So what would I use them for? I guess I couldn’t use them in a fight?’
‘No. These are for when you don’t want to fight at all. They’re smaller than the daggers, so if you hit something it’s more discreet. The really good warriors in my village were trained to be able to cut a thick rope with them from over thirty feet away.’
‘That’s impossible!’
‘For a lot of people it was. Only two people could do that, my mother and my elder brother.’
Turning to face the wall, Astrid scanned it to find a target to aim for, settling on a small chip of the clay that covered the rock walls underneath.
Just as she was about to throw it, they heard Dag yelling for Astrid at the top of his voice in the distance. Astrid put down the disk and ran outside, noticing tiny snowflakes fluttering through the air. Dag saw her and raced up to her, his face worried.
‘Astrid! Where’s Ragi?’
‘Here,’ Ragi said, walking out behind her.
‘Snow storm! We have to head back now!’
From so high up in the mountain they could see for miles around, and Ragi looked at the enormous, bright white storm clouds that were rolling in from the distance, the snow falling from them like sheets of glistening silver.
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