The Beast and The Sibyl

by A. J. Adams

  “Yes! Why on earth not? Together with our demon lamb!”

  I felt sick. City folk are cruel as they’re removed from nature and see animals as objects, whereas farmers tend to be practical. They’ll slaughter, but they do it fast so that the creature doesn’t suffer.

  Theta was off on her rant, oblivious to my feelings. “Fowler just cut its throat!”

  “Without eyes, it wouldn’t have been able to protect itself. It’s sad, but at least it was quick.”

  Theta was shaking her head at me. Rage and hate were coming off her in dark waves. It was nauseating. “The Patriarch said it should have suffered! Then the evil that sent it would go away!”

  That killed my remorse. It was all I could do not to slap the nasty bitch. I would have been happy to slit the Patriarch’s throat, too. “He got involved, did he?”

  “He’s been here twice this week. Aiding us in our time of trouble.”

  More like causing trouble, but I was wise enough to keep my trap shut.

  “The squire’s worried about you,” Theta said.

  “Is he?”

  “He thought that seeing the Beast might have upset you. Because you are, uhm…” Theta tried to think of a nice way to remind me I was part Beast and failed. “Anyway,” she continued hurriedly, “the squire talked to the Patriarch, and they were saying you might be better off living in a cottage in the village.”

  Lovely. I bet the Patriarch was telling Courtney it would be a good thing because then the squire could manage my land, and the weasel would be bleeding off a rich percentage for himself.

  Luckily, I knew how to stop that. “I’m a child of Freyja. The goddess protects me.”

  “Of course she does,” Theta said quickly. “The Patriarch is worried about us, and that includes you, of course.” She looked at Saga. “And having a pet wolf, well, she’s a symbol right? Not dangerous.”

  “Considering you’ve seen her grow from a cub, you should know she’s totally harmless.”

  “Absolutely! We all love Saga!” Theta cried. “And we don’t believe you’re a Beast, honestly we don’t!”

  I was hoping it was just her, but when I went round to see Roseleena, the chandler’s wife, and Diana, her daughter, they were panicky, too.

  “There was that lamb. It looked evil.”

  “The smith says he’s plagued by a demon spirit. Durwyn swore he heard it howl, too.”

  “The Beast is lurking out there, waiting to get us.”

  “It’s punishment for our sinful ways.”

  And there was foot-shuffling and nervous looks at my hair.

  “Don’t let the Patriarch scare you,” I started carefully.

  “But Bliss! He’s helping us!” Diana cried.

  “We had prayer meetings and special blessings!” Roseleena added.

  “With the collection plate passing twice instead of once?” I shouldn’t have said it, but I was tired. “There is no danger! The Patriarch is frightening you for no reason! Don’t listen to his poison!”

  “Bliss!” Diana was white with shock, and Roseleena was covering her ears. “He’s a holy man! Ullr’s servant!”

  I knew I’d made a mistake, but having made it, I had no choice but to go for it. “He’s wrong about the Beast. Freyja tells me there is no danger.”

  There was a dead silence.

  “Really?” Diana said doubtfully. “The Lady said so?”

  “Yes.” I cried pardon to the goddess quietly. “There’s no reason to be afraid. I promise.” That at least was true.

  “Maybe the Patriarch’s blessings chased the Beast away,” Roseleena whispered.

  “Or Lady Freyja did!” I wasn’t letting that by. “But either way, stop worrying. You’ll fret yourself into a sickness if you’re not careful.”

  I said it because Roseleena is one of those nervy types who won’t sleep or eat when she’s upset. If I’d known what trouble that would cause me, I would have kept my trap shut. But I didn’t know, so I went about my business as usual.

  Going around the village, I invoked Freyja, smiled a lot, bestowed blessings on everyone and everything from Ella’s little baby to the smith’s new anvil, and then hightailed it back home.

  When I got there, the Beast was awake. More than that, he was in the brook, splashing about in the deepest pool with my best knife lying on the grassy bank.

  “Are you insane?” I was yelling at him. “You damn fool, someone might see you! And if they didn’t, you could drown! Your ribs aren’t healed yet!”

  He didn’t even bother to answer. He got out, shook himself like a regular beast, and picked up the knife. The villagers are modest, but tending the sick meant I’d seen my share of naked men. I’d been too focused on the injuries to really notice before, but now I got a real eyeful.

  This man, even battered and bashed, was a hunk. Long, muscled legs, a broad, strong chest, each rippling muscle writhing with ink, and sculpted, powerful arms made for a lickable whole. I almost growled with appreciation, just like Saga does when I give her a juicy bone.

  But the Skull Crusher was out in full angry force. “Who are you calling a fool?” he snarled.

  “You, you witless twit! Look at you! You’re practically the walking dead!”

  He snarled something that sounded rude. Typical! I was tempted to tell him to sod off. With the village being stirred up by the Patriarch, I really didn’t need this bugger in my home.

  “I’m fine. I should go.”

  Then he stumbled. Without thinking about it, I had an arm around him, shoring him up. Visions failed to hit me, but, I knew exactly what he was thinking. “There’s no point being mad at me! You should be in bed!”

  “I must go.” He was leaning heavily on me, wheezing away. “It’s too dangerous for you.”

  He had principles, the Beast. “You’re not ready to travel.” The hard, ripped muscles were flexing against me, and I could smell his scent, fresh yet earthy. For a moment, I wondered what it would be like to kiss him. He’d be nothing like Courtney’s sloppy mackerel lips, a devil sitting on my shoulder whispered.

  Clearly I was insane. I didn’t even like this man. “You need to rest.” I got him inside and into bed. The soup was ready, rich and scented with basil and spring onion.

  “Eat.” I handed him a big bowl. “Not too fast, or you’ll be sick.”

  He gave me an evil look but muttered, “Thanks.”

  I wasn’t thinking at all but as his fingers touched mine, pain washing through me in waves but even stronger, an overwhelming loneliness and desperate need to go home.

  It was like being punched in the gut. I didn’t have time to be afraid; I was breathless with the torture of his need. “We’ll get you home soon. Promise.”

  He sighed. “I should go now. There’s danger to you.”

  I patted him carefully, both not to hurt him and hoping to avoid being blasted by the yearning that coursed through him. “Don’t be a damn fool. You wouldn’t last the day in the forest.”

  I’d tried to be kind but he wasn’t having it. “Stop calling me names!”

  The bad-tempered bugger.

  Chapter Six: Siv

  Women! Complicated, difficult, and always contrary! Who understands them? I certainly don’t!

  Bliss was definitely one of the worst. She blew hot and cold. Like she gave me a knife and then mocked me, pretending I’m the kind of bacraut who’d cut myself. And with the soup, telling me to eat and then warning me against being sick—as if I were an animal! As for that, she quit calling me Beast at every turn, but called me witless, twit and fool instead!

  “Stop calling me names!” I told her, and then she flounced off.

  The bugger of it was that she was half right. I would’ve survived in the forest. I mean, I walked across the snowfields of Thule for Odin’s sake! Thanks to the rest, the food and the medicines, I’d almost healed. All the cuts and burns were fine, giving no trouble. Two of my ribs were still tender, but the rest were mended and needed only careful
use. I’m used to being injured, so I wasn’t worried.

  But I was weak. I’d been out for days, just sleeping through the pain. It’s a great way to heal, but it kills your strength. Even that dip in the river exhausted me. Bliss saw and helped me, but instead of being nice about it, she scolded as if I were a wayward child. Me, Siv Skull Crusher being called a damn fool by a chit of a woman! If I weren’t a warrior, completely in command of myself, I would have belted her.

  As it was, I knew she was taking a big risk by having me in her home. I was determined to leave. My staying really was too dangerous for her, but then we had the storm.

  That was weird.

  When I stumbled with weakness, she helped me inside as if I were a fainting Guildsman’s daughter. It was humiliating, and it added to my irritation.

  I lay in her bed, surrounded by her scent, still trembling between rage and weakness, watching her go about her business when she suddenly stood stock-still. She was gazing into a bowl of milk, a half-crumbled bit of bread in her hand.

  I was wondering what was going on when she shook herself. “Freyja save us! I’ve got to warn them!” Then she picked up her cloak. “There’s a storm coming,” she said quickly. “A bad one. The river’s going to flood, too. I have to warn the village. Stay here!”

  She took off at a run, the wolf loping along. I got up and looked out the door. The sky was blue, the birds were singing, and there wasn’t a single sign of trouble. Yet she’d been totally certain. Call me crazy, but I went to look in the bowl of milk. It looked normal to me, silky and sweet.

  As I wondered if she were mad, the birds kept singing, the sky stayed blue, and everything looked fine—but then there was a tang in the air. Also, my ribs were red hot. In the distance, clouds were forming rapidly. A breeze sprung up. I’ve sailed every ocean six times, and I know when trouble is on the way. A storm was nearing, and by the way the pressure made my body ache, it was going to be titanic.

  As Bliss had gone, I secured the cottage. I shut the windows, pulled the shutters closed, brought in logs, and picked up the various baskets of herbs, flowers, spices, and other things that might fly away. Not difficult normally, but it’s a bitch when you can’t use your right hand. My fingers were mending well, but they were throbbing along with my still aching sides.

  She came back just as I finished. “What are you doing?” It was clear that she’d run all the way. The exercise had given her a rose flush and sparkling eyes. Saga was panting, but Bliss was barely out of breath. She was a tough girl, and I was admiring her when she snapped, “Get back into bed, you crazy Beast!”

  The bitch! “Hey!”

  I was about to lay down the law but she was moving fast. “Sorry. Slip of the tongue.” She was looking around in surprise. “You idiotic Skraeling! You got us storm-ready! Are you okay?”

  Like I said, impossibly contrary. “Of course.” She clearly mistook me for a weakling. It infuriated me, but I controlled myself. “I’m a warrior, not a helpless child.”

  I spoke coolly, and I meant it to sting, but she just walked all over me.

  “Your ribs must hurt every time you breathe! And don’t tell me those fingers aren’t aching!”

  “I’m a Skraeling. Pain doesn’t affect me.”

  “Ha!” she exclaimed rudely.

  I know when I’m being pushed. I ignored her.

  “This is a big one,” Bliss was taking in the full log basket and the herbs piled onto the table. “It will last three days, maybe four. If it floods, we might be stuck for a week.”

  “I see.” A week sounded a long time. “I should hunt.”

  “We have food. Water’s not a problem. The river will flood, but we’re safe up here.”

  “Good.”

  “But where are Bygul and Trigul?”

  She went to the door and as soon as she opened it, the cats came running in, tails fluffed up. Dark grey clouds, edged with black, were now crowding in. There were rainbows in the sky. It was beautiful but trouble. A whip of wind blew in, scattering the herbs off the table.

  “Don’t pick them up!” she snapped at me. “You need to go easy on your ribs!”

  Giving me orders and yet looking after me. I decided to forgive her.

  “You’re in no state,” she was grumbling as she tidied up. “Well, at least you’ll have to sit still for a few days. With what’s coming, everyone will be stuck.”

  Black clouds now dominated the sky. It was dark as night. A second gust of wind slammed the door shut and huge raindrops were splashing on the roof. The wind was whistling around the cottage.

  “Go back to bed,” she said to me.

  “It’s yours. I’ll sleep here.”

  You know, she tried to argue? “You’re sick.”

  “No, I’m not.” She was pale, and I could see shadows under her eyes. “Sleep in your bed, Bliss.” I noted the pale skin was stretched over her cheekbones. That was my fault, because she’d been tending to me, so I tried to be nice. “I haven’t thanked you yet. Without your help, I might’ve died.”

  She gave me an evil look. “Might have? I think you owe me more than that.”

  I was really taken aback. Life is dangerous, and so you have to hang together and watch out for one another. When Rune, our leader, was attacked by a bear last year, it was me that saved him, just like Brant, my best friend, saved my life when I was ambushed in Shahr Sha-eer one night by a mob of city guards. We know it, we laud each other, but we don’t consider we owe each other. With the favour of the gods, we help each other stand together.

  But from Bliss’ tone, she thought differently. I looked at the lovely eyes, and my heart ached. She was part Skraeling, but this was clearly her Prydain blood speaking. Those scum don’t do anything for nothing. We’ve known they’re unprincipled because we’ve been trading for generations, but it wasn’t until we took the Brighthelme Guild daughters last year that we discovered how incredibly selfish they are, even with each other.

  “You would’ve escaped, you think?” Bliss said nastily.

  Instantly my mind went back to the time I realised how different the Prydain are to us. It was when I heard my Lizbeth say to Brant’s girl, Tawny, “I’ll let you use my brush if you mend my blouse.”

  I stopped it straight away. “Lizbeth! If Tawny needs to do her hair, you can’t refuse to lend her your brush!”

  “I’m not! I’m just saying she has to pay me back!”

  I was shocked, I really was. “We don’t extort service from each other.”

  “There’s no need to be mean,” Lizbeth sulked.

  I was gentle. “We stand together, or we die alone. Giving is good for all, so being generous is a gift to yourself. Share with Tawny.”

  Lizbeth nodded, but then she went behind my back. I discovered it straight away because Tawny sews like an angel, and Lizbeth’s work is like mine: rougher than Llanfaes whiskey.

  “You lied!” I was livid. Lying is for cowards and to see my own woman do it made me shiver with horror. “How could you, Lizbeth?”

  “Why should I share? It’s my brush!”

  I was speechless. “If your friend needs it, how can you refuse?”

  “But I didn’t!”

  “You made her work for you! You used her!” I was furious, but I tried to explain the law, treating her as if she were a child. “Lizbeth, what if you’re sick, and you need medicine?”

  “I’d buy it!”

  Money-grubbing Prydain! But I kept going. “What if you have no money?”

  She was sulking. Refusing to speak.

  “Would it be fair for you to suffer? Or that someone who had medicine made you work for it?”

  Still nothing.

  Then I remembered how the Prydain live. They have magnificent cities, rich in goods and loaded with wealth, but there are beggars dying in their streets and they simply don’t care.

  Lizbeth didn’t know any better. She needed to be taught. “We all help each other, Lizbeth. We trade with strangers, not with each
other.”

  “Oh go suck Ullr’s cock!” Lizbeth snapped.

  I wasn’t getting anywhere, so I went to talk to Brant. “Lizbeth’s got an evil streak. I’ve talked to her but she won’t listen.”

  “My Tawny’s the same,” Brant sighed. “She tried to keep back a basket of apples to trade against some fish.”

  “Odin’s balls! But she knows extra goes into the commons shed! What if someone’s sick or has need?”

  “They’re selfish.” Brant didn’t seem that worried. “They’ll learn.”

  It troubled me. “Maybe keeping them is a bad idea. The Prydain are bad to the bone. They don’t care for anyone except for themselves. Do we really want to have them around?”

  Brant’s eyes were sad. “We need to try, Siv. They’re our only chance. Without them, we have no future.”

  He was right, but the thought hurt like a knife in the gut. Only fifty of us Skraeling made it to Prydain, and as we’re all brothers, we needed the women. Without them, we’d vanish.

  I hated the Guildsmen’s daughters, but I knew my duty. I couldn’t let my family name disappear, even if I felt befouled every time I touched her. But now I knew she was a liar on top of everything else, I was wishing I’d killed her back in Brighthelme.

  “Siv, be patient with Lizbeth,” Brant urged me. “We’ll raise our children to be Skraeling.”

  “They’ll be half-breeds,” I’d snapped. “Misbegotten mongrels with Prydain morals!”

  But I’d kept trying, and even then, Lizbeth had rejected me. The humiliation of it rode me hard.

  Now I was gazing at Bliss, the embodiment of everything we’d lost. Beauty, strength, and courage were all there, but it was tainted with treachery and greed. I could have wept, and for a moment I wished that the villagers had killed me.

  I know, it was a cowardly thought. It shamed me to be thinking like a weakling. I guess it shows how tired I was.

  “You think you would have made it out of there?” Bliss’ question pulled me back into the present. She had a look in her eyes that I recognised easily. “Because I don’t think so.”

  “I had a plan,” I said quietly, reasonably.

  “Ha!”

  Yes, that was scorn and disappointment. So Bliss had saved me because she expected something in return. We were in her home, so her rules applied. That’s the law of hospitality. There was no avoiding it. I steeled myself. “You saved my life. I owe you a debt.”