by Asa Maria Bradley, Gina Conkle, Lisa Hendrix, Anna Markland, Emma Prince, Harper St. George
“What are you doing? Father, no. Let me–”
A cloth dropped over Varinn’s head from behind. He whirled, punching blindly. He connected once, but two strong arms wrapped around him, thick as a knarr’s mast, and slowly squeezed the air out of him until Halla’s panicked voice, the room, everything, faded into a muffled roar and blackness. And then someone yanked his feet out from under him and suddenly he was falling again.
* * *
Halla held her tongue until the guards reported Varinn was safely on his way home, and then she rounded on her father. “You had no cause to do that to him.”
“Cause? Cause?” Her father surged to his feet, his face red. “You sent your women out so you could be alone with him. I walked in on you in his arms. By rights, I could have killed him.”
“It was only a kiss.”
“You were enchanting him! I could see your magic spinning around him like a frost-spider’s web.”
“I was…I couldn’t help it. It just happened.”
“You know our laws. It is forbidden to bind a human heart with magic. My daughter or not, you will be outlaw.”
“Maybe that’s what I want. Maybe I don’t want this life any longer.”
She regretted the words the instant they left her tongue. Her father jerked back like he’d been struck. His fists knotted into hammers, and Halla steeled herself for a blow. But he hit the walrus hide instead, slapping it aside and storming out into the main hall, which went dead silent. He grabbed a horn from a man as he passed and drained it as he stalked to his throne.
Contrite, Halla scurried after him and knelt at his feet, bowing her head. “Forgive me, my lord father. I spoke in anger. I did not mean what I said.”
“But you did,” he said, bitterly. “And all here know it. I should have sent you across the sea long ago. I still should. You can be with our folk on the west island before he returns.”
“It would not keep me from him,” she said softly, a direct challenge, but also truth.
“Stubborn child.” He sighed heavily. “And that is why I never sent you away. It would do no good. I do not understand this…this fever. And for a man.”
“Nor do I, my lord, but it has burned in me since the first day I saw him, all those years ago.” He had been teaching his little brother to hunt, she recalled, smiling, and the child scared all the birds away with his noise. But Varinn never raised his voice, and when the boy complained of cold, he even gave him his own shirt. The memory still warmed her. “I could see the sort of man he would become. And he has.”
“A poor man. Did you not see that in all the times you have hunted him?”
“I do not hunt him,” she protested. “I…watch.”
“You skulk,” said her father flatly. “Rock to bush to tussock in your fox guise. It is only by chance that he or his dog never caught you.”
“Oddi almost did last night,” she admitted with a rueful grin. “He really is a good hunting dog.”
“Do not make light of this, daughter. It is not a game. You should not have lured him here.”
“It was not my intent. But I am glad he followed. It confirmed to me what I already knew.” She drew a deep breath and said the words aloud. “I love him. I wish to marry him.”
“Marriage is not about love. Not for my kin. It is about alliance and power and the keeping of the old ways” His mouth thinned. “Even if this Varinn were not poor, he is human. He cannot live among us. It has ever been so, in all the lands we share with them.”
“If I go to him in his world, he need never know what I am.”
“You would have your life with him begin with a lie?”
“No.” The word barely made it past the scalding ball of tears in her throat.
But her father wasn’t done with her. “And when he grows old and you do not, what then? You will be alone among them, and your grief will be so very bitter.”
“It could not be worse than the ache I suffer now.” She pressed her fingers to the center of her chest as the tears finally spilled over. “It is as though part of my heart was carried out with him. Please, my lord. Surely there is some way? I would trade all that I have, all that I am, for whatever time I might have with him.”
He leaned forward and smudged a thumb through the rivulet on her cheek, then heaved a sigh that spoke of surrender and a father’s love. “I know. I saw it your eyes. And perhaps even in his. That is why I told him to return. It gives me time to think upon what can be done.”
She flung herself at him, peppering kisses over his cheek. “Thank you. Thank you, my lord. Thank you.”
He peeled her away. “Do not celebrate yet, daughter. I may find I have no answer that you like.”
“You are the Alfvaldr. All the magic of our people falls from your blessing. You will find a way.”
“Even if I do, what if this human of yours decides to sail away after all? Or what if he comes on Nightless Day only to learn about his father and not to ask for you?”
Her heart skipped a beat, and then another. But no. She’d felt more than simple desire in his kiss, in the pounding of his heart beneath her hand. She’d felt it even before her magic had begun to weave them together. That’s why it had spun out of her control the way her father had seen.
Certain beyond reason, she lifted her chin and said clearly enough for every man and woman in the hall to hear,
“Then I will go where you wish, my lord. Marry whomever you wish, for whatever boon it will bring you. And I will never speak his name aloud again, from that day, forevermore.”
* * *
Varinn bid his family farewell and set out from the longhouse to join the boat at Faxa Bay. But somewhere between home and the boat beach, he found himself veering north, not by any particular decision that he could recall but because it seemed to be the wiser path. On his back he carried everything he owned that wasn’t tied to the land, including every coin and armband to his name, so he cut across country to avoid any thieves who might linger near the outlying farmsteads.
The first thing he did when he reached the fjord was check the cave. This time the sun was low enough to actually touch the back wall, so he could see there was no hole. He’d expected as much. Nonetheless, he carefully patted the sunlit floor, reaching in as far as he could to look for a hole or even a soft spot.
He found nothing.
The next morning, he hid his possessions and began to search in earnest. Using the cave as the center, he walked circles, spiraling out as he looked for anything to show where Grímr’s longhouse might be—tracks, smoke, the remains of a hunt. Anything. He encircled every hill and marched up every valley and cliff face for leagues around. Ever-longer days bled into what passed for night and back to day again. He grabbed what sleep the twilight glow would allow and searched again.
A hall shouldn’t be that hard to find.
But it was.
Nightless Day arrived and still he searched. As the sun slid down its long slope toward the northern horizon, he tried the cave one last time.
Nothing.
He had nothing.
He’d missed this year’s ship. He couldn’t find the hall. He had forsaken his vow to his father.
And worst of all, Halla was lost to him. Halla, who he’d known for barely the length of a meal, but whose arms already felt like home.
“Fuck you and your choices, Grímr Alfvaldr.” He beat the lip of the cave with both fists until his blood stained the rock moss red. “I am here, and you are not. A curse on you and your fucking hall.”
“Do not speak of the Alfvaldr so,” said a voice just before a bag dropped over his head. This time, he fell still, his mouth in a grim line, and let the trolls carry him down into the earth.
* * *
“I have come to pay your price, my lord.” Varinn’s voice rang out over the crowded hall and two hundred heads turned to look at him.
The trolls had dropped him onto the stones like a dead seal. When they’d gone, Varinn had stripped off the h
ood to find himself at the back of the biggest hall he’d ever seen. Fifty tall men could have spread their arms fingertip to fingertip in a line down the center aisle and still not reached the raised platform where Grímr sat in his great chair.
But it wasn’t Grímr that drew Varinn forward past the long tables and the ranks of curious men and women. It was the maid who sat at his side, her gleaming hair spread over her shoulders, her wide eyes glittering in the light from the torches and lamps. As Varinn got closer, he could see the relief in those eyes—and the anger in her father’s.
“You are late,” said Grímr.
“Not quite. You hide your hall well, my lord.”
“And yet you found it. Leave your weapons and approach.”
Varinn passed his sword and knife to the nearest man, then bounded onto the platform and took a knee.
“Who am I?” demanded Grímr.
Was this a riddle? If so, it was a poor one. Varinn considered the question briefly, in case some trick was buried in the three words, but the day was nearly gone and he had no time or will for cleverness. So he chose an answer as direct as the question. “You are Grímr Alfvaldr.”
“But what am I?”
“You are…” What? Varinn knew the man must be noble, but had never been told his rank. Nor had he asked, fool that he was. Chieftain? Jarl? He quickly scanned Grímr, Halla, and the folk in the hall for hints. Fair as clouds, everyone of them, even the huge guards. Many, perhaps most, wore delicate circlets of silver in their hair. Halla’s was gold, as was her father’s, but Grímr’s was wider and set with bruted stones. Not a circlet. A crown. You should not speak so of the Alfvaldr, the guard had said. The Alfvaldr. Not a name. A title. “You are the Elf-Ruler. King of the Hidden Folk.”
His pleasure at solving the puzzle turned to dust as the truth crashed down on him. Halla was an elf princess, a being so far above him in every regard that he was amazed she could see him down here amongst the stones and bugs. No wonder her father had warned him off.
“Ah, now you understand,” said Grímr softly.
“I do.” And yet…
She did see him, even now, her eyes meeting his in a look that spoke of hope. And something deeper that stirred his soul.
“Good. Now, before I tell you of your father, here is my price. There is a she-fox who prowls the land above, one with…unnatural eyes. It has caused us too much trouble of late.” Grímr leaned back in his chair, at ease. Smiling as he drew his trap tight, “Bring its skin to the hall before the sun leaves the horizon and show it to my daughter. Only when you have done this will we speak of your father. Or of anything else.”
At the king’s side, Halla’s face went stark white.
* * *
So much anger. Varinn shook with it.
Halla understood. Her entire body quaked in fear and rage at her father’s betrayal. It was an impossible task, designed to lure Varinn out into the world beyond and then bar the doors of elfdom to him forever by his failure. She would be hidden from him using her very self—the bitterest of punishments for challenging her father.
“I understand you, my lord.” Still shaking, Varinn bowed stiffly to the king, and turned to make the long walk to the door.
He made it to the edge of the dais before the shaking burst out as a roar of laughter. “Truly, my lord. I thought you would demand more of me than this.”
“I see no fox.”
“It will take but a moment to catch it.” Varinn plucked a three-wick lamp off the first table, then came to Halla and offered his hand. “If you please, my lady. I have the skin of an odd-eyed fox to show you.”
The elf folk surged forward, abandoning their seats and crowding around the dais to see what this human would do and how their king would react when he did it.
Varinn’s gentle grip reassured Halla as he led her before her father. Standing directly in front of her, he lifted the lamp high, and pointed to his eyes. “What do you see reflected here, Halla Grímsdottír?”
“Myself,” she said, understanding. “And my unnatural eyes.” And love.
He ran his fingers boldly along her cheek and down her throat. It was a claiming, right there in front of her father and all the folk, and she thought she’d die from the thrill of it. “And what else?”
“My skin. The fox’s skin.” She pressed a kiss into his palm before she looked to her father. “Are you satisfied that he has completed your task, my lord, or must I take the fox’s form here before the entire hall to prove him right?”
Her father flicked a hand in dismissal. “The price is paid. Someone fetch the wine. Come, Varinn. Let me tell you of your father.”
“I would rather you tell me of your daughter, my lord. I wish to know her bride price.”
“Then that will be part of the telling,” said the king as he rose and headed toward the smaller chamber. “The council will serve as witnesses. Come.”
* * *
Halla slipped her hand into Varinn’s and they fell in with others to follow the king. She tipped her head close and whispered, “He likes you. He only brings out the wine when he likes a man.”
They took their seats—Varinn and his witnesses down the right side, Halla and hers down the left—and the horns were filled. The king spread his hands out on the table, fingers splayed, to show the wealth of rings and armbands he wore. “Are you certain you want her, Varinn? You know all of what she is now. But if we make this contract, she will sacrifice it all for you. Her rank. Her magic. Even her immortality.”
“So much…” Varinn reached across the table to lace his fingers between Halla’s. “Are you certain I’m worthy of all that, little fox?”
“Do you remember the first time you saw the fox with odd eyes? I have been certain for that long.”
“There will be sacrifices for you, as well, Varinn,” continued Grímr. “You will be bound to this land, never to sail to your father’s aide. Halla will return to us one month of every year, a sop to my loss. And one girl-child in each generation will be born seiðr, bound to Freyja to keep Halla’s magic alive until it is needed. There will be no going back. Not for either of you, and not for your descendants. Do you accept this?”
Agony flickered through Varinn as he heard that he would never complete his vow to his father, but compared to what Halla forfeited for him? “Aye. I accept it. All of it.”
“As do I,” said Halla.
“Then there is only the contract,” said the king. “I do not expect you can pay her full bride-price, but…what are…”
He stumbled to a halt as Varinn pushed up his sleeves and started slipping off armbands, three from each arm in heavy gold, two of those with rubies set into their ornate curls. “I have five more in my kit, if your men have not let it be stolen, plus the full price of my passage in silver coin.”
“Varinn!” cried Halla.
“I may be poor, but my father was not, and he liked armbands. My brothers got his land and remaining ships. I got these. I saved them to go hunt for him, but if I cannot… Will they suffice, my lord?”
The king nodded once. “But what of the morning gift?”
Varinn fished into the neck of his shirt and drew out a fine gold chain that he laid before Halla. “It is my mother’s. She thought I might find a bride in Bretland. But my bride is here.”
“A fine enough gift for a peasant woman, but not for a princess of our folk,” said Grímr.
“I like it,” countered Halla.
“I will also see that my wife has a puffin every day, so long as I live. To eat or to set free, at her will.” Varinn winked as he said the last.
Halla laughed with delight. “A true bounty. Accepted.”
Her father grunted. “We haven’t set the dowry…”
“I know you will be generous, my lord father.” She slipped her hand into his and gave him her most plaintive look. “You will surely want me to have enough.”
Grímr could only chuckle. “I pity the tradesmen you will deal with. You will have o
ne quarter-part of the gold in my largest chest. No more. No less. So. Do we have agreement?”
“We do,” said Varinn.
“We do,” echoed Halla. His bride.
“Rise.” Grímr pushed his chair back and motioned Halla and Varinn forward. He drew their hands together, Halla’s on top, then wrapped the gold morning gift chain around their wrists. “Witness you of the elf-folk present, that I bind these two to be married on the morrow, by their agreement and mine. May no man or elf stand between them, at peril of my sword.
“There is one more thing I wish to tell you, son of Brand. In binding yourself so to my daughter, you believe you have forsaken your vow to your father. Instead, you have fulfilled it in ways of which I cannot speak. The spá-witch who read the future for me would not tell even me, for fear such foreknowledge would put all at risk. But know now that you have done great good for him, and that when the time is full, he will know it. Your love for my daughter brings honor on you both.”
“Oh, Varinn.” Halla threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, and with Grímr and the witnesses all watching, Varinn fell one last time.
But this time, he knew exactly where he would land, and it felt like flying.
Did you enjoy The Viking’s Immortal Princess?
Find out what happens to Brand and the rest of his crew in
IMMORTAL DEFENDER
Coming October 18, 2016
Some beasts aren’t meant to be tamed…
In her Defender’s strong arms, she has no defense…
Part of a band of Viking warriors cursed by an evil sorceress, Torvald has searched for years for a magic that can free him from his fate—to live forever as a were-creature, a man by night, a stallion by day. While studying with the alchemist to Queen Elizabeth, Torvald meets the lovely widow Josian Delamere and hopes she might be the one woman who can save him.
Unwilling to give up the independence of her widowhood, Josian expects to become merely lovers, but Torvald’s tender seductions make her yearn for more. Just as she’s poised to surrender her heart, a hidden enemy reveals Torvald’s secret to her—and she flees the dark magic that surrounds him, in fear for her very soul.
