“I know, Eirik, but we won’t be idle. Swords are not the only weapons we have, for the mind is also powerful. These men are ignorant and superstitious. They’ll fall prey more easily to fear. Mother and I will use that to our advantage.”
“Be careful. Fear may be a weapon, but any blade can turn on the one who wields it. Unease makes men dangerous. Let them eat and drink until they are so fat they cannot walk and so drunk they cannot think. It will make their bellies a larger target for our blades when we return to slay them.” He drew her into his embrace. “I should just throw you on the horse and take you from here.”
“Then they would come after me and discover you. This way, you can travel unimpeded. It’s for the best.” She pulled back from him. “Besides, Mother had a vision that I would one day be at the great temple in Uppsala.” She waved her hand toward the clearing. “Does this look like Uppsala to you?”
He gave her a smile he did not feel as he pulled her hood up over her hair. “No.”
“Then I will survive to go there to be one of the hóvgythiur, as I’ve always known I am destined to be. Now go. And may the gods watch over you.”
He gritted his teeth. She would never be one of those temple priestesses if he had anything to say about it. “The gods will be too busy watching over you to worry about me. I’ve fended for myself quite well without their intervention. All I need is my own skill, a good sword, and a fast ship.”
Instead of chiding him for such talk, as she always had, she gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll watch for the lengthening of the days and imagine that, somewhere in the world, there is still light.”
He tightened the girth of the horse’s saddle. When he turned back, she was gone, disappearing before he could weaken and take her with him. He slammed his fist into the trunk of a nearby tree and the pain centered him. What manner of man was he to leave his own sister behind? But she knew, as he did, that it was for the good of their people.
With the darkness of the coming night settling around him, he changed into the dry clothing she had brought him, mounted, and rode into the sacred grove. Reining in the horse, he looked at a solitary rune stone that stood at one end, as it would for centuries more. In the center of the carving stood Yggdrasil, the World Tree, and runes traced around it, made by his own hand. He didn’t need to read the words he’d chiseled into the stone. They were seared into his mind.
Eirik carved this stone in memory of his wife, Sela, and their son who never drew breath. May Thor consecrate these runes.
Everything. He would leave everything behind. All he knew and loved. It wouldn’t be the first time. But he would return, whether the gods willed it or not. And when he had exacted his vengeance, he would carve a rune stone to honor his father, so that he, too, would never be forgotten. For Eirik had failed him, his family, all of them. This day. But come the spring, he would not.
Voices erupted from the south, in the direction of the village. Had Silvi allowed them to see her, to draw them away from him? He fought the impulse to go to her. She made the sacrifice for him, and for their people. If he went after her now to protect her, everything she had done, as well as the deaths of the villagers, would be in vain.
He set his jaw. It would not be in vain.
He turned the horse to the east, where tomorrow, the new day would begin.
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photo by Charles Bowles
Sabrina Jarema lives near Ocala, Florida, the Horse Capital of the World. She has a herd of fat, lazy Arabians on forty beautiful acres. She also breeds and shows white German Shepherd dogs and currently has several Grand Victrixes taking over her house. She’s joined by a menagerie of tortoises, turtles, birds, fish, and cats. To avoid farm work as much as possible, she loses herself in the worlds she creates through the novels she writes, her art, music, dollhouses, and jewelry. She has worked as a professional fantasy illustrator and has written fantasy romance for many years. Recently, she has branched out into historical romances set in the early Viking era. She is currently writing the Viking Lords series, a family saga set in Norway during the ninth century. She is an active member of the Tampa Area Romance Authors chapter of the Romance Writers of America. Please visit her website at www.sabrinajarema.com to enjoy her art, music, writing, jewelry, and all the other visions the night brings to her.
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