Amber Magic (The Viking Maiden series Book 2)

by Kelly N. Jane

  Ingrid nodded at the way his Irish beliefs were similar. “I thought I was to be a shieldmaiden, fighting on the battlefield, earning honor and glory, but now I know different. A constant drum beat within me as I grew, telling me that I was meant for something great. The Norns chose me. I’m searching for Eir, a goddess of Asgard, to complete my training. If I don’t learn to control my abilities in the next few weeks, not only will we lose our village, but evil will unleash on all men.”

  As the afternoon stretched on, Ingrid explained to Bremen all that had happened: the first time she’d healed a boy on the docks, how she had persuaded Selby to stowaway on her father’s longship, the adventures they’d had in Jorvik, and then the shipwreck.

  When she explained meeting the trolls, Bremen’s eyes widened, and he held up his hand for her to stop. “Wait, trolls captured you? How is that possible?”

  “That’s one reason I have to find the woman I’m looking for. As the veil weakens, it’s easier for wicked creatures to slip through again. The dragons have returned as well.”

  “This is a lot to take in,” Bremen said and rubbed his jaw.

  “Why is it that when we first met, you were careful to tell us that the prince was not among your men?” Selby asked. Her voice startled Bremen so much that he stared at her without answering. “The answer is your safety is important. You have a role to fulfill for your father, for your kingdom.”

  Selby looked down at her hands. “Ingrid has a role to fulfill as well. Not everyone wants to see her succeed, as I’m sure you can understand, but what she says is all true. Believe me when I say that you never forget the smell of troll.” She shuddered.

  Ingrid turned over her arm and pushed the knit glove down to reveal the shiny pink scar in full view. “I promise you, dragons have returned.” The recollection of the attack that almost ended Ingrid’s life flashed through her mind and stabbed at her heart with the need to find Plintze.

  “No one has seen a dragon in many generations, and there are no stories of survival when they attack,” Bremen offered.

  “It wasn’t an ordinary dragon. The dark elf used magic to control the dragon’s mind and speak into mine. When I refused to join his cause, he attacked. Plintze found me and saved me.”

  There was so much more she could have said, but the memories choked her voice. And it looked as though Bremen had heard enough.

  “Now you can see why we need to keep moving. We need to find the goddess, so Ingrid can fulfill her part in everything,” Jorg said to Bremen.

  It was all Ingrid could do to stand firm and keep her eyes focused on Bremen’s, holding his stare as an equal as they paused in their walk. The heat of Jorg’s body radiated off him. He didn’t stay by her side because she needed protection, but in solidarity. Because he believed in her.

  She felt ten feet tall. If her hands weren’t shaking or the pressure wasn’t building inside of her that she’d not find Eir in time, she would have let a grin slide over her lips. Instead, she said nothing and waited, letting Bremen decide what would happen next.

  The Prince nodded at her and exhaled a deep breath. It was enough.

  Later, after the evening meal while everyone was bedding down for the night, Ingrid stood by herself near the edge of the forest. She’d felt restless and needed some time to herself. Her body was exhausted from the journey and her head ached, but she couldn’t stop pacing.

  The darkness pressed hard. The presence that splashed between her temples swelled unbearably. The stars covering the night sky like a blanket disappeared from her vision, and she pinched her brow with tight fingers. A strangled cry caught in her throat as her knees cracked against the ground.

  Then . . . It all released. Her limbs felt boneless as she tried to brace herself on her hands and knees, but she instead slid to her belly. The pressure was gone, yet her breath came in ragged bursts from the earlier pain.

  “That appeared uncomfortable. My apologies.”

  A voice, sticky and terrifying, spoke from near her side. A voice she’d heard before—when it spoke through a dragon.

  Jarrick.

  Ingrid willed her strength to return. She slowly rose to her feet and turned to face the dark elf.

  She stood in what felt like a dark pit. Her feet were firmly on the ground, and she had plenty of space to move, but the darkness pressed in on her from all sides. There was nothing to see. No sounds penetrated the air, nor did she smell the earth, even though she’d just had her face on it. It was as if she were in total blackness, the absence of everything except terror.

  The figure of a man was barely visible in front of her. At first, she thought he wore a dark cloak, but she then realized he was absorbed into the shadows. They encircled him as if one was part of the other. He took a step closer, and the shadows slipped to the background.

  The male towering before her had the same perfect, smooth skin as Jorg, but it had a shimmer about it that made it visible regardless of the darkness. Hair so light blond it was almost white fell in a straight cascade down his back and was tucked behind elongated ears that rose several inches to a sharp point.

  “Jarrick.” Ingrid’s chest squeezed, and she couldn’t breathe.

  “Hello, Ingrid. It’s nice to finally meet you face to face.”

  “How is this possible? Where are we?” Ingrid couldn’t run; she couldn’t move. She didn’t seem to be trapped, just paralyzed from her own fear. Except, something was familiar.

  The darkness slithered through the space from Jarrick to Ingrid and back. A vibration rattled through her body, like a silent purr as it swirled.

  “This is from my mind.” Stunned, but sure of herself, Ingrid said the words out loud. The pouch on Ingrid’s belt seemed to get heavier, as if the runes were pressing against her body, uncomfortable and distracting.

  “I knew you were a clever girl. We can accomplish great things together, Ingrid.” The swirls of smoky shadows danced higher in lazy circles around Jarrick as he spoke. “You have a gift. It makes you special and powerful. Others want to hold you back, to keep you from your potential, all under the pretense that it’s better for you. But, I know you. I’ve been with you—when you recognize you are capable and yet held back.”

  A non-existent wind ruffled Ingrid’s hair. It was a tendril of the darkness. Instead of feeling like a foreign invader, it caressed her skin and even brushed her hair away from her face. It was familiar. The ache inside her head, the one she’d battled since the tarry essence entered her mind, eased.

  “You have more power than any of your petty companions can comprehend. They make decisions for you, tell you what you can or cannot do, and why? Their own fear. It has nothing to do with who you are because they don’t understand. I do.”

  A sound in the distance drew Ingrid’s attention. Did she recognize it? Her skin prickled with coldness, and breathing grew difficult. Her name? Was that what she’d heard?

  Ingrid slipped her hand to her waist to touch the runes in her pouch, but the space between her and the dark elf squeezed closer, even though neither had moved. Her hand fell to her side, the runes forgotten.

  Jarrick smiled at her but did not reach out for her. Weightless, she was once again relaxed and warm. As if she could close her eyes and float on the wind. As light as the touch of a butterfly, the darkness . . . or Jarrick . . . whispered into her ear. You can. Let go.

  Lifting her chin, she let herself fall backward, and the smoky swirls caught her. She smiled, enjoying the sensation of pure weightlessness. With a sigh, she righted herself and stood once more in front of the powerful elf.

  “You search for Eir, but she will limit you. Control you like all the others. I want to free you. Your powers are strong, perhaps even stronger than Freya. Nothing about you is weak, Ingrid. The lies you’ve been told are to hold you back. To keep you from deciding your own fate. You don’t need to be trained; you need encouraged to practice, to explore, to discover.

  “Think on what I’ve said. With me you’ll have n
o limits. You’ll be a queen. Unlike the rest of them, I want you to be in control. Come to me, Ingrid.”

  Jarrick reached out his hand but did not touch her. He wasn’t trying to grab her or steal her away but let her decide for herself. That’s what she’d wanted from the beginning. To learn how to use the gifts she had without being treated as if she weren’t strong enough. Like she was too weak.

  Then it was there again, the sound. This time it bit into her with a sharp pain, frantic. It was trying to pull her away from where she stood. To take her away from the ability to choose her own fate.

  “Ingrid. Take my hand!” Jarrick’s voice was hard, demanding. “Choose now!”

  The shadows swirled around her faster, pressing in on her again. She couldn’t breathe. She was suffocating, choking as if she’d been pulled underwater. A scream leapt from her throat as pain crashed through her body. Then she was no more.

  15

  Ingrid groaned as the sensation of spikes being driven into her temples continued to grow. The scratchiness in her throat made it hard to speak, and her skin pebbled from the cold. On top of all of that, she was alone.

  What had pulled her from the darkness? It wasn’t me . . . there was a voice. Bitter tears stung her eyes. Someone had taken her choice from her.

  Unwilling to face the pain of opening her eyes more than a sliver, she tried to focus on where she was. Though it was dark, it was familiar. Just out of reach, a campfire had dulled to little more than embers. Snores from sleeping bodies rattled through the air like a pond full of bullfrogs.

  With a sigh, Ingrid forced herself to sit, wincing and clenching her fists as she did, trying to mitigate the lingering headache.

  “Are you hurt?” Jorg’s voice traveled to her from off to the side, well away from any hope of warmth from the fire.

  “My head is pounding, and my throat hurts. Can you come closer, so I don’t have to raise my voice or twist to see you?”

  There was no movement or hint that Jorg had heard Ingrid’s request. She was about to repeat herself when he finally came into view. Before he sat down, he stoked the fire and set a couple smaller branches on the coals, the dry wood caught quickly and cast an ominous orange glow around his silhouette.

  When he finally sat down, out of reach, he wrapped his cloak around him and said nothing. The awkwardness was new. Even before they’d discovered their fondness for each other, there had always been an ease between them. No matter how much her brother and his other friends teased or ignored Ingrid as children, Jorg would make a point to be considerate.

  “Are you the one who ripped me out of my vision?” Ingrid asked.

  “I found you on the ground and thought you’d been hurt. Tremors were shaking your body, and your eyelids fluttered but never opened.” His voice was low and raw. Ingrid watched the flames and waited for him to continue.

  “There was one point when I thought you were waking, but then you went completely still. Your body was cold, so I tried to shake you and bring you back to me.” Jorg rubbed his hand over his face. “I thought you were dying.” His voice was barely more than a whisper shrouded in pain.

  “I wasn’t.” She wanted so much to tell him that she could hear his concern, but, she was so angry.

  Eir seemed to have abandoned her, and Jarrick had offered Ingrid a way to save their people. Deep in her gut, she knew Jorg didn’t understand that he was stopping her from deciding her own fate. She knew he was worried because he loved her.

  “That’s when you started screaming and thrashing. I tried to calm you. Selby tried to calm you, but nothing worked. You finally fell unconscious for . . . It must have only been seconds, but it felt as if it were hours. It tore me apart. Then you opened your eyes and stared right at me. Told me never to touch you again and that everyone would die now because I didn’t let you choose.” Jorg sat slumped and didn’t move a muscle.

  Across the small remaining flames, Ingrid saw Selby. At some point, she’d either sat up or scooted closer, but remained on the other side of the fire. Tears lined her cheeks and shimmered in the dull light.

  The weight of everything seemed to land on Ingrid’s shoulders. No one understood what it felt like to have the pressure of saving everyone she loved, and not know how to do it.

  Jarrick had offered her control and freedom. The ability to grow stronger without restrictions. How could that not help everyone? She didn’t remember screaming or saying those words to Jorg, but did she really feel that way?

  In part, yes.

  The part of her that had a job to do—one that was far too large for her—certainly felt that way. But, the other part? The other part wanted him to pull her into his arms and tell her that it would all work out. The silence settled around them like a haze, thick and suffocating.

  Ingrid sighed and shook her head. Was Jarrick really offering her all those things? What did he want from her in return? His voice echoed in her mind. The way he’d sounded at the end, before the vision was ripped away, when he’d insisted she take his hand. Cold so deep it felt like daggers crept through her body. She reached for the runes in her pouch. They were as cold as ice, and she snatched back her fingers.

  “It was Jarrick,” Ingrid whispered and then swallowed down the burn in her throat. “He said he would show me how to use my magic. That he’d let me choose.”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Jorg raise his head and his chest beginning to rise and fall faster.

  “Time is running out. He was giving me a way to avoid the death of everyone back home—unlike Eir who won’t even show herself to me. Everyone thinks they need to protect me, to make decisions for me. He was allowing me to be in control.”

  “Did he take you somewhere, like when you went to Asgard to speak with Hnossa?” Jorg’s voice was tight, the words pressed thin.

  “No, it was dark—frightening at first. There were all these shadows that seemed to be alive.”

  He sighed, but not from frustration. It was more out of worry. “It was dark magic, Ingrid. He was confusing you, luring you away so you can’t do what you need to.”

  Ingrid snapped her eyes to Jorg. A bitterness stung her tongue. I’m too weak, that’s what you mean. I’m not able to make a decision on my own. “He treated me like I’m capable. Why hasn’t Eir shown up yet? What do I have left to prove to her? Everyone wants to protect me and help me, but I’m the one who has to bind the spell.”

  A coughing fit wracked her body as her voice gave out. When it was over, silence filled the air. Frustration rolled through her like thunder clouds when she caught the pity in her friend’s eyes.

  “Ingrid, no one wants to hold you back. We all believe in you.” Selby’s voice had never sounded so quiet and compassionate—or small. At some point during Ingrid’s rant, she’d moved closer. She reached out and touched Ingrid on the shoulder. “Please understand that.”

  Ingrid wanted to throw her arms around her best friend and sob, but she stayed firm. Selby was right. She’d nearly made a terrible mistake. Jarrick had made sense and confused her. Where was the goddess?

  Ingrid rolled her shoulder to dislodge Selby’s hand. It was too much, and she was too tired. Any more conversation could wait. “It’s late. We should rest.” She pulled her cloak tight around her shoulders and laid down with her back to the fire, and to her friends.

  Two hours on the road, and still, no one spoke to Ingrid. Whispers and wide-eyed stares she pretended not to notice had followed her all morning. When anyone noticed her looking at them, they’d suddenly become very busy and needed to scurry off. Even Jorg decided to join the crew who helped the wagons when their wheels careened into a deep rut. Something which happened continuously, making the travel pathetically slow.

  By early evening when the caravan stopped for the night, it had been the longest day of Ingrid’s life. Never had she been so lonely despite being surrounded by people. Selby had sat near her at their midday rest, but spent the time chatting with Bremen. Jorg had stationed himself alone
under the shade of a tree.

  Now, they’d stopped for the night, and she still didn’t know what she was going to do. Her heart ached to put the whole mess behind her, but how could she? Spending the whole day alone with her thoughts had only made her more confused.

  Jarrick wanted to destroy Asgard in order to build up the Vanir once more—the original gods, who all but disappeared after Odin took charge. Did they want to rule again? Evil was already slipping into the human realm. Midgard wouldn’t survive in the middle of another civil war between the gods. Would it? Could her abilities provide a helpful advantage?

  The other option was to train to bind the spell, keep the Asgardian gods in leadership, and let the human world continue in peace none-the-wiser. That would require Eir, and she wasn’t helping.

  Focused on her internal argument, she stared into the brush alongside the road, and movement caught her attention. Remembering Jorg’s assurance that Plintze was safe, she tucked her chin to hide her grin. She could use the dwarf’s grumpy wisdom.

  Selby and Bremen stood near each other, talking as if they were the only two around. Selby kept tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear even though it never moved, and Bremen held his hands in his pockets as if he was trying to keep from touching her. Since no one was paying attention to Ingrid, she sauntered closer to the edge of the road and slipped into the woods.

  The rich smell of the forest soothed Ingrid’s senses as she walked farther into the brush that grew sparsely between the tall trees. At least, she felt calmer until the sting of another scent assaulted her nose. It was familiar, yet didn’t belong to the surrounding nature. The musky scent of body odor slapped her back to reality just as a man slid out from behind a tree.

  “Hello, my dear.” The man was taller than Ingrid, but not by much. He had short cropped hair with an oily sheen that was noticeable even in the dim light. Scrawny in appearance, yet he had a look about him that said he’d manage well enough in a fight. Ingrid took a step backward, her pulse beating against her throat. “Now, don’t run off. We won’t hurt you. You’re worth a hefty purse.”