“More cursed spirits?” Orm said as he rolled his eyes.
“Not cursed; as I said, a friend. You will want to head out soon; if you push yourself you should reach the edges of the hills by nightfall.”
I nodded and rose with Orm to be waved over and motioned to kneel in front of Lokison. He twisted the torque on an unseen hinge, so either arm twisted away from each other while it was horizontal, then Lokison put it around my neck and twisted it into place, with the opening resting by my collar bones in front of my neck. It was strangely warm against my skin and filled me with a sense of calm. This was the most relaxed and confident I felt about, well, everything since I saw the smoke rising from the village the previous afternoon.
“May Meili bless your travels and Odin’s wisdom guide you. Send your grandmother my love when you see her!” Lokison said in parting as he waved us goodbye.
“I thought the old man was an odd one before, now,” Orm shook his head, eyes wide and his chin was set in a stubborn jut as he processed what he learned.
“I feel there will be much more that will be discovered before all this is over. So much seems to have been hidden from us, from me. It’s time to find the truth and use it as a weapon against those who would threaten our home,” I answered with my shoulders back, head up, and my spirit filled with determination. Orm clapped me on the back and laughed.
“Now THAT’S something I can wrap my head around! Come, let’s see if our sea legs can jog across terrain like they used to old friend.”
As Lokison predicted, Orm and I reached the hills a little before sunset. This was still familiar territory for us, we had often hunted through the woods and fields that we crossed over the years. We stopped at a brook that flowed down from the hill in a gurgling rush; its water was cool, crisp, and refreshing after the hard day’s hike.
“This is as far as I’m going to go, are you going to try to push ahead until after twilight?” Orm asked as he prepared his camp on the east side of the brook.
“Yes, I want to get to Magnhild’s-the völva- I mean, my grandmother’s hut as soon as I can.” I let out a frustrated sigh. I’ve had an entire day to process, but I evidently needed more time to come to terms with all the new information I’d taken in during that time. “The longer I tarry the more danger Torhild and the other villagers are in. I know I need to go west, but I’m not sure exactly where-“
I was cut off by a young pine’s tree branch moving on the other bank at about shoulder height. Orm and I, both battle-hardened with tightly honed instincts, immediately dropped into fighting crouches with our axes raised. We stayed frozen in spot for ten slow breaths but saw no sign of anyone near the young tree. The trunk was only about as thick around as my forearm at its widest, and there were only other young pines sparsely spread for a ten-step radius around it. Something clicked in my mind then.
“Are... are you the friend that Lokison said would guide me to my grandmother?” my voice quavered slightly as I asked. “If you are, move the branch again please.”
Orm shot me a withering look, silently asking me if I was actually being polite to some crazy cursed spirit.
The branched moved again, a force pulled it down and released it to allow it to wave. No wind, no person around it, but a definite, unnatural, and purposeful motion of the branch. Ice slid down my spine as my entire body broke out in goosebumps and my face drained of all color. A quick glance to Orm showed that his normally stoic and calm personality had cracked too. Good, I thought, it wasn’t just me that was half terrified by what I witnessed.
Except I was the only one out of either of us who had to follow that deeper into the wooded hills.
“Looks like your, ah, guide is here my friend. Safe travels, I hope to see you again soon,” said Orm between deep, calming breaths to steady his nerves. His eyes met mine again and he gave a sharp nod and relaxed his aggressive fighting stance.
“Is it too late to ask Gefion’s favor? I think I’m going to need her blessing.” Orm let out a quick bark of laughter and shook his head smiling.
A few quick strides and a leap was enough to clear the brook as I went in the direction indicated by my unseen guide. Every so often a branch would move or a twig would snap to adjust my course, and though the increments of signals increased as the density of the woods did, my unseen guide and I kept a good pace. From what I could feel of the sun, we were headed west by northwest, skimming along the foothills of the low mountain range in the distance.
I started to look for a good spot to stop for the evening, about when twilight ended and the moon rose from the east, when a wave of fear, revulsion, and panic washed over me. If I hadn’t stopped only a short time before to do so, I would have emptied the contents of my bladder right then and there. I broke out in a cold sweat and it was all I could do to keep control over myself and to not go running through the woods blindly. Viking for years trained me to be the master of my fear, but I had never felt a gut-wrenching terror like this.
Ahead of me, a single birch branch bobbed on its own accord. My guide wants me to continue?! How can I possibly do so?!
Lokison said it was a friend. From how he talked about her, I believed he loved my grandmother like I loved Torhild. All Lokison had ever wanted was to be part of, and accepted by, a community. Lokison had always contributed to Darlthveit, gone out of his way to help others, and though he was a bit strange he had always given good counsel, shelter, or a meal to any who needed it.
I took a deep breath to steady myself. Then another. Then a third as I forced the breath deep into my lungs, into my belly, and held it before slowly letting it out.
One step. Another. One more. Each step brought a new wave of anxiety; each step, I stopped and talked sense into myself. Each step I breathed. I didn’t know for how long this continued; just as my willpower was about to shatter, I took one last step and was greeted by a palatable wave of blissful relief. My entire body was shaking like a leaf that was barely attached to its tree; the convulsions and sweat made me feel like a dripping puppet, unable to control my body.
I made myself take a few more deep breaths and splashed water on my face from my waterskin to refresh me and wash away the remnants of fear. I have to be close, something like that wall of fear could only belong to a völva. No sense in stopping now if I’m just about at her doorstep. I nodded to my guide, in the direction I saw branches move last, to let it know that I was ready to go, and it obliged by moving to another branch. I silently raised a prayer to Odin, asking that the trial of fear be the only barrier I must face tonight.
A soft glow oozed between the trees ahead, gently lighting the outline of a small wooden hut that was built into a small sheared off hill. There was a thin trail of smoke that meandered up from the roof hole from the fire inside, but there were no other signs of someone being home. I debated for a moment, then decided to not slink along quietly. If I was at home visiting someone I wouldn’t have padded my steps, so why would I have done so here?
Five strides brought me to the ancient and rough door that was pitted and gray with age, but solid and sturdy looking. Just as I was about to knock, I heard the creak of a bowstring behind me. I opened my fist and raised my other hand slowly, deliberately, until both were well away from my axes and above my head.
“Why do you disturb the völva of these woods? Don’t you know that’s how you get demons sent after you and yours? Turn around slowly, I want to see the face of the stupidest man I’ve had the displeasure of meeting in over a decade!” The voice, while I could tell was aged, was as smooth and rich, as good mead. I obeyed her command and turned very slowly so I didn’t spook her into doing something rash, and finally got to see my grandmother.
She is definitely my grandmother, or at least someone who is closely related. We both shared a rounded face rather than the long oval that was common to others; we both shared shorter, rounder noses, thicker eyebrows, full lips, and broad cheekbones, though her face showed the evidence of the elements and time. Her hair w
as a mixture of shocking white against inky black that fell in long waves behind her and her skin was a delicate golden hue, almost that of the torque. She was shorter, softer, and curvier than any woman I had ever met, but I had no doubt that she was in as good of shape as any woman her age in the village, if not better. She looked wide-eyed and wild with me sighted down her arrow. I had no doubts that she could place that arrowhead into my eye if she so cared to.
“I mean you no harm, I swear by Forseti’s justice and Odin’s wisdom. I have something of yours that I brought with me,” I gently lowered my hands and gripped, in each hand, one of the arms of the torque and twisted the arms away from each other to open it. I slowly slipped it over my head, returned it to its original configuration, and displayed it before me.
“Why do you have that?” a muscle in her jaw twitched.
“Lokison gave it to me to help convince you that I mean you no harm and so you would at least hear me out. He also sends his love.” I kept my voice quiet, soft, and even.
“He is not harmed then? In good health?” Anxiety crept into her voice, making her high tone almost shrill.
“I swear that this morning when I left him he was as hale and healthy as any could expect of a wrinkled snarky old man. I swear that is the truth upon the lives of my wife and my unborn child,” I answered with a half-smile. “If you would like confirmation, ask the guide he sent me. As a völva you should be able to, correct?”
“Those Who Are Unseen, Show Yourself To Me,” her voice had changed, deepened, and I felt as if I stood knee-deep in the surf and a wave washed over me, except I only felt the wave inside. Then I felt a sharp tug, as if the undertow caught me in its grip and pulled on my insides. There was no physical pressure, I never lost my footing, but there was something. What was I feeling?
“Mama? You showed him the way here?!” Wide-eyed astonishment washed over my grandmother’s face like her power had washed through me. She immediately lowered her bow, relaxed the string, and looked off to her right as if she was intently listening to someone.
“Alright,” she said finally, and looked me in the eye. “I’ll listen but you have to convince me quickly that you’re worthy of my time.”
“I’m your grandson Brandur, my mother was your infant daughter Sassa. Darlthveit has been under attack for days by enemies that we can’t see, who evidently stays away from me, and has driven the village to the point of madness. Four huts have been burned down, we are missing numerous people, and those who haven’t gone missing are on their last frail tie to sanity. We need help, please I beg you, in the name of my wife Jarl Torhild and on behalf of all of the villagers of Darlthveit.”
The silence stretched out between us as she processed what I said. After a few moments she put the arrow away and used the bow to motion to the hut.
“Inside.”
With half a turn I reached for the door handle while I kept sight of her out of the corner of my eye. The sight of the interior caused me to stumble. It was laid out exactly like Lokison’s house, the only difference being the extra door to the back of the house that faced into the hill.
Magnhild pushed past me to rest her bow and quiver in the corner with the sword, daggers, and mace that hung from their pegs.
“Sit.” She pointed to one of the two chairs at the table to the right of the door. Lokison’s table had two chairs too.
“We keep our homes arranged the same, makes it more comfortable to visit the other,” she said. I flinched and stared wide-eyed at her.
“You... you can see my thoughts as well as my guide? Is she-was she-your mother, my great grandmother?”
Her laugh was musical, comparable to the tinkling of bells, and her smile took off my lifetime’s worth of years from her. No wonder Lokison was in love with her, if she was this beautiful in her advanced years, what sort of enchantments did she cast in her prime?
“No, I don’t have that gift and I’m thankful for it. That gift comes with its own trials and burdens that I do not wish to possess; the advantages it would give are by far outweighed,” she said calmly as she put a kettle over the fire to heat. “I will not return to the village; any help I give will be through you. Though we do not have enough time to properly ascertain your own abilities. We will have to make do with what I can teach in a few hours and what tools I can spare.
“Now, tell me everything.”
“I have good and bad tidings, my grandchild,” Magnhild said when I was through reliving the occurrences of the past day and a half. She listened intently with only the occasional pointed question for clarification. “On the good side you have your own abilities, and strong ones at that, though they are untrained. The bad side is that someone is sending the spirits of the dead in large numbers to Darlthveit to harass its citizens, to what ends I don’t know, but whoever is sending them obviously has ill intent. I have never seen anything like it.”
“What can we do?”
At this, my grandmother sighed and pinched the brow of her nose. Her head picked up as she stared off into space as if she was listening intently. When whoever was speaking to her was done, she shook her head.
“I know not. You are like me: you can send out your soul with intent and the dead respond to it,” she explained in a level voice. “When you landed and had the stone tossed at you what you inadvertently did was send out an attack on a spiritual level, a messy and uncoordinated one, but an attack none-the-less. You must have injured one or more of the dead attackers to scare off the majority of the rest by just your presence.”
A strange and alien sense of pride swelled in my chest. I was a warrior twice over! Not just with martial skills, but with whatever strange ability that my grandmother’s blood afforded me. That same skill-and the knowledge that I had its talent- made my stomach feel like curdled goat milk.
“I can make sachets, oils, and other things that will deter the dead but it won’t stop them. If we could get you trained quickly that would be a solution; you could banish the dead, but training takes time and skipping steps is dangerous.” My grandmother stared into the distance and chewed on her thumb while she contemplated out loud. “What is even more dangerous is whoever is sending the dead and why.”
“That is where I can definitely help, I might be a better fisherman than tracker but I have some skill with it. If the dead bother me less, then I would be the best person for going after the living who are controlling the dead.”
“If you went hunting for the living you wouldn’t be able to do what is needed to purge the dead from the village. Even Odin, who gave his eye to see all, cannot be in two places at once.”
“Then go to the village. My wife sent these,” I pulled my bag around and brought out the beads and herbs, then set them on the table toward her. “Torhild cares not that you are a völva! She cares about Darlthveit and its inhabitants. She is a well-loved, deeply respected, and immensely trusted Jarl. With how much of an uproar the village is in, she would be only happy to tell the citizens that you are not to be harmed or harassed, and that you would be rejoining the village. You could live out your days with old Lokison at the edge of the village and not have to sneak around or be away from him.”
Magnhild started to shake violently; her whole body trembled as she shook her head from side to side. A repeated and silent “no” kept coming from her mouth while a single tear rolled down her cheek. My heart broke at the sight, even though we were all but strangers to each other. Something at some point broke this strong, fierce woman. I knew who it was too.
“Grandmother,” I kneeled on the floor in front of her chair, the rushes cushioning my knees from the hard-packed dirt, and gently took her hands in my own. “Grandfather is dead. He cannot hurt us anymore.”
With an audible crack of joints her head snapped up and she looked me in the eyes, then she looked deeper. Old memories churned in my mind like a winter sea storm. Things I had forgotten about and hid from myself arose from the depths to be ejected onto the shore of my consciousness. Me, as a
very young boy, in the middle of a stick sword fight with another boy. My grandfather came over and asked what I was doing. I told him and introduced him to my friend. Kell. His name was Kell. Grandfather’s face turned red and he stomped over to me, in my mind it felt like each time his foot landed on the earth it made it shake a little, but I knew that was an exaggeration. When he reached me he beat me until I was bloody and bruised, the whole time he screamed in a blind rage that he would not have another freak of a völva damaging his reputation again, he would not be argred; unmanned, and dishonored. I had to stop seeing the dead: “They aren’t the truth, they are a curse,” he screamed over and over as his fists rained down. Tears; I remembered tears of anger, confusion, and hate rolling down my cheeks. Tears rolled down my cheeks again at the memories. That was just one of many times; flashes of the others flipped through my head but never touched as deeply as the first. Times when I saw things my grandfather didn’t. Times my grandfather thought I saw something and accused me of lying when I said I hadn’t. Beatings. So many beatings.
The visions ended and I found Magnhild had pulled me to her so she could hold me and cradle my head against her shoulder and her head against mine. I shook violently with sobs and she shook almost as bad as I did. Our tears intermingled as we both cried without restraint.
“I’m so sorry that you had to pay for my níô, child. Your grandfather was a cold, cruel man and was always afraid that my being a völva reflected upon him and made him argr.”
“Being who you are shouldn’t cause you to have a stigma, and you being what you are didn’t make him less of a man. What made him less of a man was how he treated you.”
“And how he treated you.” She pushed me back gently and brushed the wetness away from my cheeks. I smiled gently at her and leaned my face into her hand. She froze, her breath caught in her throat. “Please... Tell me that you do not have your grandfather’s tendencies.”
Hidden Magic Page 50
