Could he have such a marriage with Silvi? Or would she resent him for pulling her out of the life she longed for? At least he had some time to think on it, but it would be best if he consulted with her. Not now. When they came to Thorsfjell, he’d show her all he could offer her. Once she saw the peace of the village and the creativity of the people, she would understand better. And perhaps fall in love with it all.
And with him? He shook his head. He was getting ahead of himself. Love wasn’t necessary in a marriage, just respect and consideration. But if she ever looked at him like Asa looked at Eirik, he could rest assured he hadn’t torn her life apart.
As for his own life, it was already in a shambles where Silvi was concerned. He’d fallen in love with her the first time he saw her. And if she couldn’t return his feelings, it might be better for him to be alone in life than alone in love.
Chapter Two
“I came to say farewell.”
Silvi spun at the sound of Magnus’s voice, and nearly lost her balance. The herbs she’d been grinding scattered across the table. He put out a hand to steady her, hesitated, then pulled it back. She hadn’t planned on seeing the fleet off. She had too much work to do to replenish the herbs they’d used throughout the winter. Rorik had already come by to say farewell, so she had no reason to go down to the beach.
Magnus stood before her, his dark hair washed and shining in the firelight of the longhouse, his sword at his side. Strength radiated from him. Though she was drawn to that strength and the protection it held, she took a step back.
“May the gods grant you a safe journey, Magnus. With Rorik’s ships surrounding you, it can be no other way.”
“He is truly the lord of the seas. I’m honored to travel with him. As I am honored to have come here and fought for Haardvik.” His blue eyes were deep, like the fjords in the summer. “I hope you’ll come with Asa and Eirik to Thorsfjell when they journey there in a few weeks.”
She glanced away from him to the herbs on the table. “I heard they’re returning there to get Asa’s things. My mother is looking forward to it. I’ll likely be gone by then to Uppsala to begin my studies. It takes many years. We may not meet again, unless you come there during the great festivals.” Her throat closed and her eyes misted as she spoke the words. How strange. The thought had always filled her with such joy. But happiness could cause tears as well.
“Perhaps you could delay your journey there and come with your brother. I think you would like it at Thorsfjell. We create many works of beauty. Carvings of wood and soapstone, jewelry of silver and gold and amber, beads of multicolored glass, weavings and cloth the merchants fight over. It’s peaceful in the mountains, with a stark, strong beauty. We’re isolated, but there’s no place like it in all of the north.”
His gaze was focused, intense. This time, it was she who couldn’t meet his eyes. His scent came to her through the smoke of the central fire, that of leather, steel, and masculine power. Her body responded in her deepest core. Something in that depth woke, like a dragon in the darkness of the earth. It rose, molten and strong, driving her breath from her.
She took another step back. “I have already waited too long.” The words came from her as though someone else spoke them. As though they held another meaning altogether. Did the gods influence this time? Why? It was a simple farewell between her and a man she might never see again.
“I hope you’ll consider it anyhow.” He inclined his head, his gaze slipping to her mouth. “Be well and happy.”
As he left, she leaned against the table, the strength draining from her body. She nearly sat on the bench, but instead put down the grinding stone and followed him outside. When she broke out into the light, he was far ahead of her, striding down the path leading to the beach where the ships waited.
The breeze blew her hair behind her as she walked to the edge of the cliff overlooking the fjord. Several ships had already left the shore, their oars cutting the water like knife blades. Magnus jogged down to the water’s edge and waded out to one of his knörrs. One of his men helped him climb up the side. He looked up and stilled when he saw her. She lifted her hand as the wind whipped her hair around her. He didn’t return the gesture, but watched her for a moment longer. Then he called out orders to his men and they scrambled to the oars. As the ship pulled away from the shore, he did not look back.
“The hands of the Norns have stirred this time.” Lifa stopped beside her.
Nuallen, tall and silent, stood near Lifa, as always. He’d been wounded and captured in battle in Northumbria the summer before last. After he had recovered, he had lived as Lifa’s slave. Eirik freed him after the fight for Haardvik, but he’d chosen to remain with them as a free man, and as Lifa’s bodyguard. He wore the wide silver arm ring Eirik had given him as a token of his service. Whenever Lifa left the longhouse, he was just behind her, always watching, always attentive.
Silvi smiled at him. They had all become close during the winter when Hakon and the marauders had taken over the village. His focus remained, though, on Lifa. He loved her. Silvi had seen it long ago. The light in his eyes when he saw her was the same as when Magnus looked at Silvi. But it couldn’t mean the same thing. Could it?
“Did you feel it?” Lifa’s eyes were distant.
“I felt something. I didn’t understand it,” Silvi said. Was it the gods, or was it Magnus she’d sensed? The energy that had twined between them still rocked her body. She tamped it down. She couldn’t lose sight of the destiny that had always been hers, because of some mere physical attraction.
“We must cast the runes tonight to see what they tell us. This is a time of transition. We must be prepared for whatever comes,” Lifa said.
“Mother.” Silvi turned away from the cliff edge and faced her. “I feel as though I’m suspended now between what was and what should be. Asa is the new mistress here at Haardvik. You have your work, as always. People come to you for healing in the mind and the body, to find answers for their futures, and to seek your wisdom. I cannot walk in your shadow any longer. I want to find my own path, and that path leads to Uppsala. It is time.”
“I see.” Lifa continued to watch the departing ships. “And what of Magnus?”
She might as well have struck Silvi with a war hammer. Had Lifa felt the power passing between Magnus and her? There was no telling what her mother could sense. Her wisdom ran so deep, Silvi sometimes felt as though she would drown in it.
“What—what of Magnus, Mother? He has left for his own world, that of markets and trade and weapons. That’s no place for me.”
“And how would you know, my daughter?”
“I aim higher. A woman’s place is the hearth, and children, and spinning. The things of mundane life.”
“Tell that to Asa. I’ve heard tales about her battles with looms.” They both smiled. “And you know a woman need not be a priestess to wield power. She does so in her weaving and the power of life she brings. All things in the home are centered on her, and that includes things of magic. A wife can control destiny with her loom and her spindle, like the Norns control our fates with their spinning. Don’t underestimate such magic, Silvi. By loosening a knot in the weft of a loom, any woman can free her lover in battle, or by tying a knot there, she can stop the enemy from moving. It is for this reason we bury women with both weapons and weaving tools.”
“Why should I love a man when he’ll only leave for trading and raiding, and perhaps die in some faraway place, like Magnus’s father did? If Leif hadn’t escaped the raiders in the rapids on the Dnieper river, no one would have ever known what happened to their father.”
“We can die just as easily here, as we saw this past winter. As your father was killed defending us.” She lifted her chin. “I have been greatly blessed. I have had the love of a fine man, the gods gave me the gift of the runes, and I have had two children, both of whom survived. Should you have any less than that?”
“But you lost Father.”
“Death is as
much a part of life as is birth. And his passing was between him and the gods. Not me.”
“It was the gods who made me the way I am, Mother. While other girls dreamed of fine husbands and children and snug, tidy houses, I dreamed of the night, the runes, and of the peoples who dwell in places even farther away than the Nine Worlds we know of. I have always ventured deeper into the shadows of the gods than others. The knowledge that they have touched me is as much a part of me as my hand.”
Lifa turned to her with a slight smile and brushed back Silvi’s hair. “I’ve often felt you see things even I cannot in the realms of the gods. But I see this world so much more clearly than you ever could. It is in this world that we live.” Lifa kissed her forehead. “Tonight we cast the runes. Be prepared.” She headed back toward the longhouse with Nuallen walking beside her, his auburn head bent to listen to something she said.
Silvi looked back out to the fjord at the retreating ships. If only she could become like the eagles that soar above the mountains and the waters. Then she could follow the fleet and watch them as they unfurled their striped woolen sails, catching the uncatchable winds. The longships would knife through the seas, skimming above the waves, bending to the power around them but never breaking. She could stand on that deck, the spray in her hair, and Magnus would put his arm around her to steady her . . .
No. The ships were gone and so was he. So it would be if they married. She’d spend her life wondering if he’d return to her or if the goddess Ran had dragged him down to dwell in the depths of the sea. It would be no life for her.
Uppsala. The name rang like thunder in the mountains. Long ago, her mother had told her how the temple stood on a vast plain, surrounded by mountains and ancient burial mounds. A gold chain wrapped around the gables so all who approached could see it shine. Three statues stood within—Thor, Odin, and Freyr. Beside the temple grew a tree that remained green all year long. Such was the power emanating from there.
Yet, for some reason, she had always had a vision of it as an island, a place of peace amidst a sea of storms. The visions had started when she was very young, but the island had been too far away to see it clearly. Through the years, she’d been able to call the vision at will and, little by little, she had drawn closer to the island. The mountains rose above her, green and lush, and on them, she could see buildings. They were as the halls of Asgard were said to be—tall and gleaming like purest gold. The entire place was radiant, until sometimes it hurt her to look at it. Still, she longed to be there with every part of her being. In the past few months, the currents on the sea had brought her so close, she could smell the scent of the land. Just a bit farther and she would be where she had always belonged. Uppsala was her destiny.
Far better the peace of the temple, where she would study and one day become one of those who sit above the others and tell of what would be. Separate. Singular. Respected.
Not the wife of a man, but the wife of a god.
* * *
The lamps burned low, casting shadows into the far reaches of Lifa’s private chamber. Outside, in the common room, the people were quiet out of respect for the power the rune mistress would command this night. Only Lifa, Silvi, Eirik, and Asa sat around the small table, Lifa’s bag of runes between them. Nuallen stood aside in the darkness, his arms crossed over his chest, watching everything with his verdant eyes.
Lifa didn’t reach for the gem-encrusted bag. She sat with her head down, staring at the flame of the lamp on the table. Silvi met Eirik’s gaze. He shook his head. They would wait.
The flame danced, though no one moved. Then Lifa drew a breath and put her hand into the bag. She took out a rune but did not glance at it, and laid it on the table. Laguz. The rune of intuition, of other senses. Of visions.
Lifa should pick other runes and place them in patterns, then read their meanings in relation to each other. But she made no move. She never looked at the symbol, only at the light of the lamp. A chill shot up Silvi’s spine.
“I see Yggdrasil growing before me. It is, and is not, the World Tree. It is our family, the roots deep, going back to the days when the gods walked freely among us. The branches are wide and strong, reaching outward until I cannot see the length of them. One branch outshines all the others. Many branches from other places, other times, touch it. They gain strength from it, and it grows and splits, becoming longer and more numerous until the tips spread among the very stars. It is Silvi’s branch, and that of the generations that should spring from her.”
Silvi drew in a harsh breath. That could not be. Why would she see this? Long ago, Lifa had had a vision of her at Uppsala, and that was what drove her entire existence. Why would her path change now?
“Mother?” Eirik leaned forward, his voice low. “Will we become as gods, then, to walk among the stars?”
“Not gods, but men who will journey to other worlds and explore them as we explore the seas.” She touched the rune on the table. “These branches, Silvi’s branches, are beginning to wither and die. I see it. They shrivel and fall from the tree, decaying into the ground as though they never existed.”
“What of Eirik’s branch?” Silvi clutched her trembling hands together. The entirety of their family’s future could not ride on her.
“His time of transition has passed. He walks his destined path. Laguz only shows me yours, Daughter. And . . .” She looked up at Nuallen, her eyes wide. He gazed back with his usual calm, inscrutable expression. Her eyes dropped. “And little else.”
“Will you not complete the casting?” There had to be more. The meaning of runes often depended on each other and how they were positioned together.
Lifa stood. “The runes have no more to tell this night. I would speak with Silvi alone.”
Why did this have to come now? Just when she had declared her independence to her mother and decided it was time to leave Haardvik. How could both visions be right? She wrapped her arms around her waist as the old, dreaded pain rose in her stomach.
After everyone left, even Nuallen, Lifa did not go to her. Instead, she crossed to the large table in the corner and poured out a measure of a medicinal infusion. She mixed it with water and honey and brought it to Silvi. “Drink this. It will ease the pain.”
Of course Lifa would know she hurt. She always hurt, just from being in this world. When the sadness swelled in her, her stomach burned like she had swallowed fire. She drank the familiar ginger brew.
Lifa sat and held out her arms. “Come here to me, Silvi.”
“Mother, I’m a woman grown. I don’t need coddling like a child.” She set the empty cup down.
“You’re still my child. We all need the arms of another around us from time to time. It is no childish thing. And even if you do not need me to hold you, I need to feel you in my arms.”
Silvi nodded, knelt beside her, and laid her head against her mother’s breast. She closed her eyes as Lifa embraced her. The warm scent of herbs and wisdom surrounded her. A little of the fire in her stomach subsided.
“I don’t know why you would see such a different vision for me than what you’ve seen before.”
“Not so different. The vision I had of you at Uppsala only showed me that you would one day be there. Not that you would live there throughout your lifetime. You would have to be there at some time, since we go there for festivals. Especially the great festival of the sacrifice every nine years. You chose the interpretation.”
“I feel like a ship at sea without a sail.” Hadn’t she thought that of Magnus only a few days ago? Sorrow welled up in her, a great, choking pressure, and she sobbed once as she held it in. Lifa gathered her closer.
“Cry, Silvi. Let it out as I’ve always told you. Grief is not a bad thing in itself, but if it builds up within you, it can eat away at you until there is nothing left.”
She shook her head. She couldn’t forever go crying to her mother like a babe. If she became a priestess, no one would touch her, out of respect and out of fear. All that veneration would b
e little comfort on solitary nights when the pains of this world ate into her. She’d have to be there for others, but who would be there for her?
She couldn’t hold it back. Great, wracking sobs tore from her. The certainty and joy she’d felt in her future were gone, leaving only questions. “Why, Mother? Why won’t the gods give me answers? If they want me, why won’t they clear the way for me to leave? You and Eirik stop me, I had these strange feelings within me when I spoke to Magnus, and nothing is certain any longer. And yet, the island in my visions, the temple, is so much closer now.”
“Look at me, Silvi.” Lifa placed her hand under Silvi’s chin and lifted, giving her no choice. Lifa’s dark-haired image swam in tears. “I want you to listen to me. Forget the gods.”
What? Silvi gasped and pulled away.
Her mother caught her shoulders and held them. “Forget the runes. Forget signs and portents and visions in the night. A warrior asks the runes if he will survive the coming battle, but in the end, it is he who fights with his weapons and his skill in the light of day and reality.
“You can rely on all our prayers and visions, but you are the one who sets your feet upon the path you’ll travel. Listen to the one thing that matters, the one thing that will never fail you. Listen to your heart.”
Lifa held her to her breast again and Silvi bowed her head, letting her tears fall. What was her heart telling her? She had never listened to it much, for her mother’s vision, and her own, had guided her ambitions. She had walked through her life with such certainty, but now . . .
A tiny corner of the foundation that had always held up her world cracked.
Lord of the Mountains Page 3
