by Susan Wright
We rocked together, rising to the highest pitch, losing ourselves in each other. I didn’t know where I ended and he began as our passion weaved us together. We cried out, our voices mingling as one.
I forgot all else, sleeping in his arms. Lexander woke me by brushing the strands of hair from my face. The candle had burned out, leaving us in darkness. But as always, I felt the coming dawn.
There was the whisper softness of silk around my wrist, and then it tightened. "What?" I murmured, pulling against it.
"Hush," he whispered. "I must claim you as my own."
With a quick turn, he secured my wrist to the post at the head of the bed. My arm was outstretched, and tugging showed me that I was held fast. He quickly tied my other wrist to the other post.
He had never bound me in this way, and it sent a thrill through me. I was exposed, displayed for his delight. He caressed me with his hands, then kissed my face. Languidly, he moved lower, molding his full lips against every part of me. My neck, shoulders, breasts, and ribs, then lower to my belly and hips, down each leg to the tender flesh behind my knees. I lost myself in his lips.
Since I could not touch him, I could only feel what he did to me. I became pure sensation.
He spread my legs wide and kissed me there, where he entered me, licking slowly and surely, driving me to madness. I writhed and jerked against my bonds, but they held tight. I was forced to receive, only accept, and I surrendered to him again and again.
Lexander finally took his own satisfaction when I was limp and long past awareness of myself. He claimed me for himself, driving into me deeper and deeper.
When he was done, my body was thrumming. My mind was far away, gone astray in bliss.
He kissed my lips, and I responded with every fiber of my being. I had never felt such fulfillment, such abandon.
He tossed the fur over me, and the blessed warmth made me drowse. The clink of the lock on the door was a distant annoyance, to be ignored in my suffusion.
The clink of the lock . . .
I fought my languid contentment. A tug on my wrists showed me that I was still tied. And Lexander was gone.
Lexander had left without untying me. He would sail away in the knaar for the Auldland, leaving me here with Silveta.
"No! Lexander," I cried out.
He would give the key to Silveta with instructions to release me once he was safely gone. Would she come sooner, remembering her promise to me? Could she, when Lexander requested otherwise? During our long search for a warband, Silveta had served Lexander, relying on him and doing as he said. It was natural for Lexander to call out obedience in others. He always would have that power.
Silveta would obey him. I hated her for it, though I could not blame her.
I tugged at the bindings on my wrists, gasping as they refused to give. So soft, yet so strong. I strained against them, willing them to part. But Lexander knew his craft, and I was held fast.
Olfs appeared, responding to my need. Their soft glow lit the snug closet as they spun around the ceiling and bounced along the floor.
"Please," I pleaded with them. "Release me."
The olfs came closer, curious. They little understood physical constraints. Nothing could hold them, and they were puzzled by my struggle.
"The cloth is tied to the posts," I explained, shaking my wrist in emphasis. "Undo the knots, I beg of you."
Most of the olfs were useless, uncomprehending or taking mischievous pleasure in my thrashing. They liked to tease people, but I had no patience for their games now. I had nothing to bribe them with, no ripe fruit or shiny coin.
A tiny olf floated by my head. It had twiglike limbs and a comically distended belly. I focused on its sad, knowing eyes.
"Help me, little one, as only you can," I begged. "I helped rid your land of Birgir. Please help me now."
The tiny olf jogged up and down in indecision, then bounced over to one post. It cocked its head on its frail neck, looking at the knots.
"Yes, untie it," I urged. "The loose end must be threaded through from where it came."
Its delicate fingers plucked at the cloth. I poured good thoughts into the olf, encouraging it, adoring it, and promising to give it whatever it desired.
The knots parted and my wrist was finally free. "Bless you!" I said as I wrestled with the other binding. The little olf did somersaults in delight.
I ignored the crimson gown and snatched up my Thule parka and pants. They were made of caribou fur, waterproof yet soft against my skin. They would keep me warmer during the ocean crossing than any cloak. My boots were also fur-lined, repelling both water and ice.
There was no one in sight as I ran from the longhouse. The estate was sleeping in the twilight of the morning, darkened by clouds overhead. I rushed along the familiar paths to the gate.
I was gasping when I reached the bondsmen on guard. "Has a tall man left the estate?"
The bondsmen gaped at my Thule pants, but were even more surprised when they recognized me. "Freya Marja! Is something amiss? Nobody’s left since we changed at daybreak."
Lexander could have left through the rear gate, but I knew he was still with Silveta, saying his farewells and giving her instructions to release me when he was gone.
My fingers tightened on the bondsman’s arm. "Listen to me well. Let me through the gate, and do not speak of my departure to anyone, even if asked. Do you understand?"
The tone of command was foreign to me, but I had learned at Silveta’s knee. The bondsman straightened to attention, snapping out, "Yes, freya! It will be done." His eye strayed to his fellow sentry, as if to impress my order upon him.
They pushed the gate wide enough to let me through. They were intrigued, perhaps wondering what I was going to do next. I suppose anything could be expected of a girl who could summon a Skraeling warband.
A light sprinkle of rain began to fall. I ran through the streamers of fog toward the waterfront.
On the docks, I picked out the knaar with the yellow-striped sails. The oarsmen were still groaning and splashing the sleep from their eyes with buckets of water. Lexander had not yet arrived.
I climbed into the knaar and stood in the stern, with the olfs bounding around me. One of the older men called out, "Get off, girl! We’re about to cast away."
"I’m going with you." I put my hands on my hips.
An oarsman who knew me from Vidaris quickly intervened. "Leave off, man. She belongs to the master."
Since that was enough to keep them from tossing me off the knaar, I didn’t bother to correct him.
"We weren’t told a woman was coming," the older man protested to the Vidaris freeman.
When Lexander arrived, surprise widened his eyes. He started to speak, then seemed to think better of it. He climbed into the large ship and the oarsmen pulled back and busied themselves at the sight of his frown.
"You’ve betrayed me, Lexander." My voice was low, but I didn’t try to hide my anguish. "How could you?"
Lexander gestured down to the dock. "Get off this ship, Marja. You’re staying here."
I repeated more slowly, "How could you?"
"I knew you weren’t listening to me. I wish I could take you along, but it’s not possible."
"Then I am your slave. And you’re a slave master still."
He couldn’t meet my eyes. "I won’t have you at risk, Marja. Will you make me put you off myself?"
For a moment I thought he would pick me up and drop me over the side, just as easily as he had tied me up and walked out. "I’m going to help the other slaves, Lexander, even if I have to do it alone. I’ll find another ship to take me to Danelaw without you."
"Marja!" he cried in frustration. "You can’t."
"I’m going to the Auldland. There are other boys like Niels out there who are suffering and need me."
"How can you be so obstinate?" His eyes bore into me. "Would you kill my love for you?"
I drew in my breath. "You would threaten me with that?"
He paced back to the stern, shaking his head. He was distraught, but his words hurt just the same. How could he deny me so? We had never fought before. The clouds drifted just out of reach overhead, adding to the foreboding in the air.
After a few tense moments, I went close to him, lowering my voice. "You cannot stop me, and in good conscience you shouldn’t try. We are here in Tillfallvik because I fulfilled my pledge to rid my homeland of Birgir. Have no doubt, Lexander; I will do as I say."
He sank his face into his hands. "Enough! Can I say nothing to prevent you from making this terrible mistake?"
"I made no mistake this day, except in trusting you." I turned away, pained by the very thought of it.
"Marja!" someone cried from the docks. "Marja!"
It was Silveta, running down the wooden palings. She clutched a bag to her chest.
I leaned over the rail. "Silveta, what are you doing here?"
She glanced at Lexander. "I had to make sure that you were all right. And what did I find but that you were gone!"
"I’m sorry I can’t stay, Silveta. Please tell Niels farewell for me. I’ll return as soon as I can."
She knew it was no use to protest. "You must take this, Marja. It’s your dress and a cloak, and a few other things you’ll need once you reach the Auldland. Take it, with my best wishes for your safety and happiness."
I was touched. "Silveta . . . how kind of you."
She lifted the bag to me. It felt heavy, stuffed full of good things as only Silveta could give. "Take care of yourself. You, too, Lexander."
Lexander curtly bid Silveta farewell; then he jumped across the benches to yell orders for the crew to depart. I exchanged a look with Silveta and we both smiled sadly. The last time we had set across the ocean, Silveta had been with us.
"Take care of Birgir’s people, Silveta," I urged. "Give them a chance as you gave me."
Startled, she couldn’t deny me. "If you think so, Marja."
"You won’t regret it," I assured her.
I grasped her hand, our fingers tightening on one another. For once Silveta was straining to reach out to me.
"Come home soon," she said. Tears stood in her eyes.
As the mooring rope was tossed to the dock and the oarsmen took their seats, I reluctantly let go of her hand. Silveta waved her veil over her head for as long as I could see her. I didn’t stop looking back until she was swallowed by the clouds.
5
Rain began to fall in earnest as we sailed from Tillfallvik Bay. The small islands that dotted the channel were ghostly sentinels draped in fog, emerging and disappearing as we passed by. The black and white seabirds were barking as they woke from their night’s rest, but their water diving was concealed by the mist. I briefly closed my eyes and asked for Alanerk, sea god of the tides, to speed us on our way.
We sailed into a gray formless wall where water and sky merged together. Circles appeared on the waves as fat raindrops fell. In my Thule furs, I was warm and dry, but the oarsmen grumbled sourly at the dismal start to our journey.
The olfs who had lingered onboard disappeared one by one. I hoped desperately that at least one would accompany us to Danelaw. But they silently wafted away, and I knew it was because of Lexander. The olfs avoided him now, as they had avoided Helanas. Her deeds had echoed through the inua of the world, drawing evil to lap at her feet.
After the brutal ease with which Lexander had killed her . . . I couldn’t blame the olfs for disappearing. I rubbed my wrists where my skin had chafed while trying to get free from Lexander’s bonds.
As the rain fell and the waves grew higher, I resisted sinking into the sea spirits, though the rocking of the ship was hypnotic. The spirits were whispering to me, asking me to recount the battle of Tillfallvik and Lexander’s revenge in Vidaris. But I couldn’t stand to relive the horror, nor could I bear to think about Lexander. I had to refuse them.
My unease grew as Lexander avoided me. He returned only to set down a jug of mead and a loaf of bread stuffed with raisins and nuts. I said, "Please, we must try to—"
He merely turned and stepped over the benches to reach the prow, where he could watch the flow of the waves. An oarsman manned the tiller near me, but he huddled in his cloak and said not a word to me.
When the gloomy day began to turn to night, I crawled under the canvas protecting the trade goods and supplies. I rolled myself in the warm cloak Silveta had thoughtfully provided, and tried to sleep on the stacked blocks of beeswax. Yet whenever I dozed off, the dead tormented me—Birgir came out of the darkness to claw at me, gaunt and desperate, while Helanas screamed in anguish, her face too close to mine.
I kept waking suddenly as if I was falling. Eventually I gave up the effort of trying to sleep, and I swayed with the moving ship, wondering what the morrow would bring.
The rain turned into a gale that whipped the waves higher. By day’s end, we were in a raging storm. The seasons were turning, and the tang of autumn was in the air.
The oarsmen were forced to lash the sail down to keep it from ripping into shreds. Their oars were useless, and they huddled under the canvas to avoid the icy waves that washed over the hull. They bailed continuously to keep us from swamping. Lexander endured the numbing cold at the tiller, guiding our foundering ship to keep us afloat.
When the oarsmen’s prayers grew shrill, pleading with the Norogods for their lives, I knew our situation was grim. I finally sank into the sea spirits to beg them to take our ship away from the storm. But they slipped through my fingers and drifted away. I had refused to share my stories with them for too long, and they were unwilling to listen now, much less lend us their aid. I had been unwise to deny them.
Emerging from under the canvas, the wind whipped my face as I hung on to the ropes that lashed the goods to the deck. The dark clouds churned overhead. I had grown up on the fens watching the movements of the sky, and had learned how to rise above the ground to flow with the clouds, seeing everything passing below. But that couldn’t happen in this lurching ship with the water rushing over the sides and salt stinging my eyes.
I saw no familiar patterns in the shifting clouds. This was no ordinary storm—an unseen hand was stirring the heavens. The flashing bolts came down all around us, staying with us as we were driven forward.
I doubted any of the oarsmen—or myself for that matter—interested the gods enough for them to put forth this effort. It had to be Lexander. The sea itself was rising up to stop him from reaching the Auldland.
Despite the howling wind and water washing over the sides, I climbed across the benches, clinging to the rope strung to the stern.
"Marja, get back!" Lexander cried when he saw me coming. "You’ll be washed overboard—"
In a few moments, I reached him. Lexander was wedged into the stern with a rope tied to his waist. His arm closed tightly around me, holding me against the surges of seawater that washed by. The shock of his touch was stronger than the icy water that hit my face.
"If only you had stayed behind! " he cried, as the heavy knaar landed against a wave with a boom.
We both ducked down to avoid the spray. "There’s something strange about this storm," I told him. "It’s not right. Could your people be trying to stop you?"
"Impossible." Lexander strained to search through the driving rain to see what lay ahead, leaning on the tiller. "Only the most powerful among us could cause a storm such as this, and they care nothing about me."
"But, Lexander, you could be causing it."
"I’m not . . . you can’t think that I—" He broke off, his arm loosening from around me. "You don’t know what you’re saying!"
Water swelled over the side, rushing by and shifting me off my feet. I was nearly washed away with the water. Lexander’s fingers dug into me, holding on. He dragged me back into his tight embrace, clutching me like a drowning man.
My face pressed against his chest as I hung on to him. His heart was beating fast and there was a catch in his breath. I was sheltered agai
nst him, and it suddenly felt as if the storm was far away.
"I’m sorry," he murmured into my hair. "Sorry for everything I’ve done to you. I never should have taken you from your family."
"Lexander!" I exclaimed, looking up at him. "You regret that?"
"You belong on the fens. Not here."
Despite the wind whipping away our words, my voice was low but clear. "You saved me, Lexander. You set me free. Now let me live."
His troubled brow showed his unease. "I fear I’ll be the cause of your death."
I reached up to touch his face, straining to kiss him. Then his lips were on mine, making me flush hot. I could forgive his arrogance and overbearing ways when he opened himself to me like this. Through our touch, I felt his emotions roiling beneath his ironclad control, going far deeper than his conflict with me. His vengeance ran too strong; his pain was too sharp.
"You’re fighting yourself," I whispered.
His clasp tightened convulsively. "You know me too well."
"Because I love you," I murmured into his chest. I felt more than heard him say the same.
Finally he released me. As I pulled back, I realized the sound of the wind had lessened. The booming thunder was receding. Now our boat was riding the waves instead of pounding against them.
Lexander and I stayed together in the stern, holding on to each other. The danger had passed once Lexander had accepted the truth about himself.
When the rain finally eased and a break in the clouds was spied on the east, the oarsmen came out from the hold and cried out their gratitude to their gods. But I knew the cause, and our salvation, lay much closer.
We sailed on through intermittent squalls and downpours that punctuated the dreary days. At times the waves rose higher than our mast. Lexander didn’t sleep except in the rare calms, staying close to the tiller to guide us through. Though we had smoothed over our conflict, I could not forget what he had done to me. I couldn’t take pleasure in him, and he maintained the same careful reserve toward me.
