With no responsibilities, they’d had time to talk. He told her how her vision had warned him of Toke’s treachery, and how he defeated him. He described the places he had traveled to and the lands he had seen. One day, he’d promised, they would travel the seas together. But for this time, they were content to simply be.
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I always thought power lay in gold and silver, but it doesn’t. It lies in the land, the mountains, the seas we sail on. They are a part of us as we are of them. The gods imparted their strength into this place and that force spreads to everything, including us.
“Our land is cold and gives us little, but it’s made us strong warriors. As jarl, I had to perform the rituals for my people, but I never felt them. Now, when I climb my mountain to the sacred grove, I’ll remember that everything I am comes from there. And I want you beside me. I understand the strength that runs in you to stand in the force of the gods, as you do. When they come across the snows and glaciers toward us, we can face them together.”
“They come.” Unn spoke from behind them and they turned to greet her. Leif stood to the side. She pointed to the storm, her head high. “They show their approval of you with their presence. May they bless you in all things.”
“Then marry us now,” Magnus said to her. “I would show them that I take Silvi for my own. Not hidden in a house, or in the darkness of a temple. But here, beneath the sky, so they will see it.”
“Now?” Unn gave a knowing smile.
“Now?” Silvi’s jaw dropped, the breath shocked out of her. “But my family—”
“Has already seen us wed once. I don’t want you slipping through my fingers again. I want to proclaim you mine in front of the gods themselves.” He drew close to her and whispered, “Or, to make certain I have you, I can use a certain silk sash I found in our bed after our last night together at the Thing. I brought it with me. Then you’ll certainly be in my care.”
She knew what that meant. His voice sent warmth throughout her body, melting the deepest part of her. She swallowed and looked at Unn. “Now.”
The völva laughed and took their hands in hers. “Leif, you may stand as witness. Magnus, will you promise to love and protect Silvi for your lifetime, to live with her in joy and laughter, and to honor her for all your days?”
“I already have, and I always will.”
“Silvi, do you marry Magnus freely, in the sight of the gods, with all happiness, giving yourself into his care?”
“Yes, Unn, I do.” Smiling at Unn’s choice of words, she leaned up to Magnus and whispered loudly, “As long as you untie me in the morning.”
He choked back a laugh as Unn gave Silvi a stern look before grinning. Leif looked the other way, his cheeks turning red.
“Then before the gods, I say that you are married. You may kiss—Never mind.”
Magnus had already grabbed Silvi with a laugh and slanted his mouth over hers. His kiss was so demanding and possessive, she could hardly breathe. She gasped for air as he straightened. He didn’t let go of her, keeping her under his arm as he faced Unn again. She watched them with a smile, then cleared her throat.
“Magnus, since you’re sharing a house with Leif, you may have mine for the night. I need to go contemplate the mysteries. Leif, please escort me back. I’m not certain they’re going to make it to the house. It’s more than my old heart can take.”
“You’ll outlive us all, Unn,” Leif said as he offered her his arm.
She took it. “Such a powerful shield arm you have, Leif. Let me tell you of a warrior I loved far back when I was beautiful. He looked much like you. I have a lovely granddaughter descended from him.”
“I’m certain you do, Unn. And you’re still beautiful.” They walked away toward the temple complex.
Magnus grinned down at her. “Shall we prove Unn right?”
“A nice warm bed, glasses of wine, and soft furs sound much better to me than the hard ground and getting soaked in the rain.”
“Very well. I’d still like to see you naked under the stars. There’s always our sacred grove. Or one of the longships anchored in the fjord one calm night.” He cupped her face in his hands. “I owe you a true wedding night. And I always pay my debts.”
She turned her head and nipped his palm. “I’d be happy to collect.” She laid her head on his chest and he drew her closer. When she’d come to the temple, she hadn’t brought her herbs to prevent a child, thinking she wouldn’t need them. She was right. If a child came of this night, then it was meant to be. A brave little boy, just like Magnus. During the winter, she’d had a vision about Eirik. Magnus had stood behind him, though she hadn’t known who he was yet. She’d seen that their blood would mingle, and so it would—through their children.
“What are you smiling about?” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it.
“Just dreaming of the future.”
“You have all night to do so, Silvi. And every night after that. As long as I’m in those dreams with you.”
She snuggled into him, and he settled her against his strong body, shielding her from the rising winds. Unn spoke the truth. Magnus was the island in her visions, and he was, indeed, her haven in a tempestuous sea. Of that, she had no doubt. “I think I always have dreamt of you, Magnus. Now I know I always will.”
The village of Haardvik Hardangerfjorden, Hordaland, Norway
People lined the cliffs and the shoreline as Magnus guided the Fire Serpent closer to the beach. Leif followed in the Sea Eagle. The two ships Rorik had loaned them were anchored just off shore, which meant Kaia was there as well. Silvi waved, her heart filling with joy as she saw Eirik, Asa, Nuallen, and her mother waiting to greet them.
When they were close enough, the men of the village caught the ropes the crew tossed to them, and pulled them onto the beach. Magnus leaped off and turned to lift Silvi down. But she laughed and jumped off herself. Her skirt was soaked, but it was worth it.
As soon as she cleared the water, Eirik grabbed her and swung her around. “I was certain you couldn’t escape him for long.”
“If only you knew, Eirik.” She laughed as he gave her a quizzical look, but Asa just grinned.
Lifa embraced her, her face alight. “So, can we plan another wedding?”
“We’re already wed again, Mother. Unn did it for us.”
“Oh.” She looked disappointed for a moment, but then she brightened. “Well, we can still have the celebration. We’ll need more beer, the hunters will have to go out for game, and we’ll have to start baking. I have to gather the women. We’ll send to the outlying farmsteads and invite everyone. I’ll have the servants start more cooking fires and brew barrels of ale.” She hurried off toward the village, talking to herself. Nuallen looked at all of them, shrugged, and followed her.
“The celebration is the best part anyhow.” Leif sloshed onto the shore from his ship.
Magnus clapped him on the back. “Maybe we should be planning your wedding instead.” He nodded toward Kaia, who stood off to the side, her arms crossed. She rolled her eyes and stalked away.
Leif grimaced. “I’d like to live to see my nieces and nephews.”
In the longhouse, Lifa already had food set out and plenty of ale and mead. Silvi sat at her old place at one of the tables as the warriors who had been on Magnus’s ships filed in and headed for the drink. Many of the servants and villagers she’d known all her life greeted her. But Haardvik felt different now. Or, perhaps, she was the one who was different. The pains in her stomach had subsided. Unn had told her the discomfort had happened because she’d never accepted her life, and the sorrow had eaten at her. Before, Haardvik had been her entire world, and her dreams lay elsewhere. Now, her world and all her dreams were centered in one place with one love. Much of the pain was gone, in more ways than one.
Magnus talked with Eirik as Asa sat down across from her. “So, I take it you won’t need any swords by the bed?”
She laughed. “I don’t
know if I’d go so far as to say that. Maybe a small one, just in case.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
A servant ran in and stopped in front of Eirik. “More ships, Jarl. They’re not passing us by. They look like they’re coming here. I think they’re your cousin’s ships.”
“Rorik? Where has he been all this time?” Eirik led the way outside.
Kaia was already on the beach when they got there. “He has only three ships with him. He said he was taking four. Gods, I hope he didn’t lose one of them. They’re like his children. There’s no telling what he’ll do.”
The ships came in under full sail, ramming onto the sand. Parts of them were blackened and damaged, their sails torn. Rorik, in the lead ship, leaped out, cursing.
Silvi tapped Magnus on the arm and he leaned down to her. “I don’t think his journey to Northumbria went well. He’s going to be livid, and it takes him a while to calm down. Days, sometimes. And when he sees Nuallen, we may have a small war on our hands.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I know a place we can go to escape the carnage.”
“Lead on, then. I’d much rather listen to your sweet whispers than his ranting, anytime.”
When they entered the sacred grove, he chuckled. “This is where you berated Rorik and me for fighting.”
“Yes.” She put her arms around his waist. “And you said you couldn’t feel the presence of the gods here.”
“I remember.” He looked across the clearing. “But now, I do. They walk in the movements of the trees. Their voices carry on the wind, and they speak to us in everything we are.” He gazed down at her. “Before we left Uppsala, you told me of your visions, and of what Unn said to you about them. What do you see now?”
She rested her head against him, closed her eyes, and let go.
The golden sands of the island stretched away from her as she stood on the beach, the calm seas lapping onto them. Above her, glittering halls, like those of Asgard, rose on the sides of the verdant mountains. A gentle breeze blew over her, carrying a comforting, familiar scent. She turned. Magnus stood there, his eyes filled with love. He held his arms out to her. She went into their shelter and rested her cheek against him, listening to his heartbeat.
She opened her eyes, the island fading back into the sacred grove at Haardvik. Magnus still embraced her, and she smiled up at him. “You’re there now, just as Unn said. I think you always were. It just took me a while to see you.”
“I love you, Silvi. I’ll always be your haven. No matter what life brings, no matter where we go, I’ll be at your side, standing between you and anything that would harm you. I’ve won so much more than I ever thought I would. Victory over Toke, peace for Thorsfjell, safety for the people of Bygvik. You.”
“And my ships.” She gave him a teasing smile.
“And your ships. The Raven is guarding the knörr on its trading voyages, but we still have the other two. Where shall we go? To distant lands? To sail the sea that has no tides? When we went through Birka on our way back here, we didn’t see much of it. Shall we go there and find out what treasures it holds? Or to Kaupang, or Hedeby? Even Staraya Ladoga across the Baltic?” He took her face in his gentle hands. “Anyplace you want to go, anything you wish to see, whatever I can buy you, is yours. Tell me what you want.”
She placed her hands over his. “You. I want only you. All the treasure in the world is wherever you are. My love for you is all I’ll ever need.” Rising up on her toes, she kissed him. “Take me back to Thorsfjell, Magnus. Take us both home.”
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LORD OF THE RUNES
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Chapter One
Village of Haardvik
Hardangerfjorden, Hordaland, Norway
Late fall, 850 AD
She stood before him like a flame-haired Valkyrie—strong, proud, a warrior.
Not as she had been in life.
Eirik Ivarson had seen his dead wife in his dreams before, but in them, she was always as he remembered her—gentle and too weak to survive their brutal world. Her soft blue eyes would gaze at him with reproach like she blamed him for her death, sending her to dwell forever with the goddess Frigga. She’d been right.
But this dream was different and as he struggled to cling to it, she spoke.
“Why do you sleep, husband, while your kinsmen die?” Her eyes darkened into a deep brown as though she was sullied by passing so close to the earth. The vision turned as crimson as the blood that had gushed from her and carried her away from their life together. A scream split his sleep apart.
He tore himself awake and reached for his sword before he even opened his eyes. At least he was still dressed, having fallen across his bed well after midnight, passed out before he’d hit the furs. Head spinning with the mead he’d drunk, he staggered to the door of his small chamber.
Another cry cleared his thoughts. He eased open the door and took in the state of his father’s main hall. An unfamiliar warrior, an outcast from the looks of him, stood over two cowering serving girls. Another servant lay in his own pooling blood beside them. The attacker raised his sword and the women shrieked again.
Yelling to divert the man’s attention, Eirik bounded across the room. He swung his blade as the invader turned. They clashed, flesh to flesh, iron to iron. Eirik’s momentum smashed them into the wall and the outcast’s head cracked against it. Dazed, he paused for an instant. It was all Eirik needed.
Using his forearm, he struck the upper edge of the intruder’s shield into his face. His nose shattered. Eirik pushed the shield aside and whipped his blade across the man’s neck. Blood arced down his body as the attacker fell.
He knelt beside the fallen servant. “What has happened?”
“Outcasts invaded us at dawn.” The older girl tried to rise, but her knees buckled. “Even now, they fight outside. This one hacked his way in, though we locked the doors as the mistress bade us.”
As he helped her to her feet, the sounds of the battle he’d slept through because of his drunken stupor came to him from beyond the damaged front doors. His blood rose again. But he couldn’t just rush outside and join the fighting. He had to know what he faced. “Where’s my father? My mother and sister?”
“Jarl Ivar fights. And the thrall, Nuallen, took the mistress and your sister to try to escape to safety.”
He gave a quick nod. “May the gods will it so. Find shelter for yourselves.” He ran to the entrance before they could answer. Stepping outside, he entered a world of war.
The attackers outnumbered them several to one. His father’s warriors engaged them with bravery, but too many of the valiant men lay dead in the yard. Livestock ran free and two of the outbuildings burned. Villagers screamed and tried to hide, but many were already cut down.
While he’d lain insensible from his celebrations, his people had been dying. His family, his everything. He swallowed his shame. This was not the time.
The familiar stench of fear and bodies in their death throes seared his nostrils. He breathed deep of it to fortify himself. Confidence welled up in him. Now he was in the world of warfare he had chosen three years ago, the world he’d left behind when he’d returned here.
He ran through the yard, searching for his father. Three of the attackers fell to his assault as he went. A shield lay on the ground and he grabbed it as a man rushed toward him. Their blades met in a burst of sparks. The other man staggered back under Eirik’s superior power, crying out. Most of them had to be outcasts, with little more than the element of surprise on their side. They were no match for him. Eirik hit his opponent’s blade, driving him back farther until the invader stumbled and nearly fell. Using the delay, he swept the battleground for an instant with his gaze.
Ther
e. His father stood in the midst of the melée. On the ground, the bodies of his warriors surrounded him. They had guarded him to their deaths, but now the jarl struggled alone against two men. They came at him, one from the front and one from the back, toying with him. Eirik’s heart swelled with molten rage. He had to get to him. Ivar was sick. Weak.
Eirik struck his opponent’s shield again. His sword fragmented. He thrust the blade’s jagged end under the shield, into the man’s thigh. Hooking his hand under the lower edge of the shield, he yanked it toward himself, pivoting it on the outcast’s hand. The upper edge tore into his opponent’s throat, dropping him. Eirik leaped over the body, roaring to his father to disengage, to break off. But the noise of battle drowned out his voice.
Weaponless, and using only the shield, he battered his way through the tumult, yelling. The crush of men impeded him and desperation clenched his gut.
The outcast behind Ivar hefted his axe and threw it at the jarl’s unprotected back. The blade hit hard and deep. Eirik skidded to a stop. The chaos around him receded into a pinpoint centered on his father.
The jarl stood for a moment, looking around himself as though he wished to remember his land while he was in Valhalla. Then his gaze fell on Eirik and he straightened. He smiled, holding out the ancestral sword, Star Slayer, like an offering to him. Then his eyes rolled back and he drifted down, still clutching the weapon. He lay still.
“Father!” Eirik’s voice was high and thin, as it had been when he was a young boy calling for his sire in the night after a terrible dream. But this was no nightmare from which to awaken. Grief, sharp as a dagger, plunged into him and twisted. His breath came hard, his eyes filling.
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