Tides (Time of Myths: Shapeshifter Sagas Book 3)

by Natasha Brown

  It had been easy hobbling downhill, but when she began to climb back up, it put pressure on her sore calf. With care and effort she made it back onto the open field. She placed her hand at the small of her back while her eyes scanned the countryside for anything other than grass. Spots of white blooms were visible against a dark thicket.

  Eilish hobbled over to the flowers and plucked one stalk at the base. Its lacy stem was covered with short, feathery leaves that touched her with soft, fuzzy hairs. Eilish picked a few stalks and searched for rocks on the landscape. If she’d been home, she could have used her grinding stone to make the poultice, but for now she would have to improvise.

  Down a slope toward another inlet, she spotted a rocky strand. With the herbs in hand, she limped to the stony cove and climbed down to the shore. Rounded stones littered the ground. Eilish picked one that had a smooth surface and set it on a ledge of rock that thrust up from the earth. She selected a pebble large enough to fit in the palm of her hand, then broke the stems of the herb into smaller pieces and placed them on the smoothed stone. She pressed the pebble she was holding against the leafy stalks and continued to work at making a paste.

  Once she was satisfied with her work, she went in search of clay, something she discovered was not to be found so close to the ocean. On the eroding bluff of the inlet, the best she could find was loam. Mixed with spit, it made a mud that would be sufficient for binding the herbal paste to her leg.

  She rolled up her legging so she could get to work on her swollen, blood-crusted skin. She felt the pressure of time on her shoulders, knowing she’d been gone for a while and hadn’t checked with her masters before leaving. Ragna didn’t seem like the sort of man you’d want to upset. She kept that in mind as she moved as quickly as possible, hoping no one had noticed her absence.

  Chapter 6

  Leif watched his father accept Agnar and Oddmund’s gratitude for his unparalleled navigation skills. Ragna struck out his chest in pride and lifted his chin while they lavished him in compliments.

  “Let us pray the worst is over. It now falls on me to find the treasures carried over the ocean that will make us wealthier than even the gods.” Ragna laughed.

  This was a stretch of the truth. Leif knew it was really his flying skills that would reveal the treasures his father referred to, but he also knew that Ragna would never praise him for his contribution. It was fine with him that he was left out of it. He preferred it that way.

  Oddmund set his fists on his hips. “You have never steered us wrong, Uncle.”

  That was a matter of opinion, and it was Leif’s viewpoint that from the very first, his father had made dishonorable choices that had led them to this point. It shamed him to look upon Ragna and speak of his greatness, for to him it was a lie. So he kept quiet as he always did, drawing the notice of his cousin.

  “What have you to say, Cousin?” Oddmund questioned.

  Leif looked at the bluffs surrounding the beach. “I wonder when Uncle will return. Last time he went to scout, he came back with another mouth to feed, and she did not last long on the seas.”

  A slow grin crept across his cousin’s face, and he rubbed his bearded chin. “But she was fun while she lasted.”

  “I will go offer them my help,” Leif answered and turned away.

  Agnar looked as if he wanted to follow, but Leif shook his head and gestured for him to stay. He knew his friend would do anything for him, but in that moment he simply wanted to get away from everyone. It was hard to do when you were trapped on the same vessel, so he wanted to take advantage of the fact they were on land again, even just for a little while.

  Many of the thralls were gathering sticks and wood to make a fire, but he noticed the one called Cormacc sitting on a stone eating seaweed. He recalled seeing the unfree servant bent over the prow emptying the contents of his stomach into the sea.

  “Have your appetite back?” he asked.

  The thrall shrugged. “Aiden gave it to me. Said I should eat while I could.”

  Leif scanned the beach for the woman called Aiden, but couldn’t find her and grew uneasy. He knew she’d had the opportunity to run away at their last camp and hadn’t. It wouldn’t be wise to run off now in Bretland, a land across the sea from her homeland. She seemed intelligent, though. He thought of her exposed breasts while she wrapped her torso with bandages and of his uncle prowling around the countryside for entertainment.

  “Have you seen Aiden about?” Leif asked Cormacc distractedly.

  The thrall was slow to answer. “He said he saw food growing nearby—that he would bring it back to share.”

  Leif didn’t remain there any longer, but hurried up the slope and away from the beach. His eyes touched every curve of the horizon for sight of movement and found nothing. The land to the north appeared lush, and if what Cormacc said was true, maybe Aiden was foraging for plants. He hurried across the windy field and continued to search the landscape for sight of the shaggy-haired thrall.

  Instead, he came across his uncle and cousin plodding across the meadow. When they met, Rúni’s gray whiskers lifted as he spoke. “I thought I saw that pretty thrall you bought. I wanted to chase him down to see if he truly pisses standing up.”

  “So,” Leif said, crossing his arms, “you did not find anything near to pillage then, if you are left trying to frighten a servant?”

  Rúni’s forehead wrinkled as he took in his nephew’s comment. His thick finger thrust into Leif’s chest. “I go by your father’s word you are his son. You may be the image of him, but you are nothing alike.”

  He might have enjoyed Rúni’s observation if Leif hadn’t noticed movement over his uncle’s shoulder. He thought he recognized Aiden’s shaggy mane pop up below a slope and was quick to react. “Shame, I saw the thrall walking back to camp. I believe Father was anxious for your return.”

  Sten and Rúni exchanged a look before turning toward the beach to the south. Leif watched them go, waiting to find the straying servant until they were a distance away. He hurried to the place where he’d seen the bobbing movement and found a slope that led to a small rocky inlet. There he found Aiden bent over her leg, smearing something that looked like mud on her skin.

  Leif jogged down the stone-covered drop, startling the thrall. She stood up straight, letting the cuff of her pant leg fall so her flesh was covered again. He didn’t know if he had expected to find her wrapping her chest again, but he was confused by what he saw.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded.

  “Nothing, just foraging for food.” She lifted the cloak that was wrapped around her body, drawing attention to the leaves hanging from its folds.

  “What is on your hands?” he asked and stepped toward her, grabbing hold of her fingers. A strange-smelling, muddy paste covered her.

  She looked up at him. The hair that normally disguised her face had been brushed aside so he could see into her blue eyes unhindered. She didn’t respond or shy away from him. He bent over to lift up the trim of her leggings and found the mixture smeared in a line across her skin. Around the edges, the tissue was rosy and swollen. He straightened to ask, “You are hurt?”

  “By the rope.”

  “Why did you not say anything?” he asked, feeling his frustration mount.

  It had been one thing after another. Lie upon lie. It was challenging enough to get through a season with his father when the odds were in his favor, but with this woman complicating things—did she even understand what sort of danger she was in?

  “I am not a large man,” she answered with a shaky voice. “I do not want to appear weak.”

  Leif chuckled, but he was not at all amused. A seagull cried out as it landed on a nearby rock. He spoke slow and steady, emphasizing each word. “I do not respect liars.”

  Her eyes widened, and she stepped away from him. He closed the distance, grabbing hold of her arm. “You are no man. It is a foolish thing to have sold yourself off as a sailor when you have no hope of keeping your secret
.”

  Aiden’s blue eyes narrowed, and her jaw tightened. She leaned in. When her voice came out, it rose in octave. “I am no liar. I am only following my father’s wishes and trying to survive.”

  “Well, you are doing a poor job of it,” he retorted. “You are in a life with little hope of survival even with me helping you.”

  It was clear she wanted to make another retort, but thought better of it. “I thank you for fishing me from the sea—”

  “That is not my meaning.” He shook his head in frustration. “One full day did not pass before I found you exposed in the wood. How long might it be before my uncle does—a man who came looking for you, determined to make you out as a lady. Do you know what he will do to you when he discovers your secret? What my father will do?”

  Her fingers curled around the trim of her tunic, lifting it higher. “You found me—naked?”

  “Then we are even.” He thought of the moment he touched onto the beach just the day before when he’d changed from an albatross to a man.

  The fire in her eyes died down, and her shoulders drooped. “My father cut my hair and put me in his clothes. He named me Aiden and begged me to do what I could to survive and protect my virtue. I have heard stories of the Finn-Gall raiding villages—seen it for myself.”

  “Not every man from the north behaves that way.” Leif looked to the ocean as he asked, “What is your plan?”

  Her eyes flashed again, and she lifted her chin. “To survive and follow my father’s wishes.”

  “It is no life with my kin as a woman—if you were allowed to live.” He understood her situation better than any other, which explained his frustration and annoyance. “You may have spirit enough for a sailor, but you do not make a good man, arching your back in the wind, behaving as a woman does.”

  “You are good at flinging insults,” She observed with narrowed eyes. “Are you here to warn me of my pitiful future, or have you come to help?”

  When he’d stormed down the slope, he hadn’t anticipated her response. She had a fiery tongue and courage in her soul to speak to her master like that. If it had been Ragna she’d spoken to, it would have been settled by the blade of his sword. But he was a different sort of man, as his uncle had observed with distain.

  “A man does not arch his back with his hand on his hip. He stands strong and tall like the steel of a sword, or the mast of a ship.” He put his hands on her shoulders and lifted them into a straight line with her back. “It would always be wise to remember that a thrall must be obedient and never talk back to his master.”

  She glanced at him watchfully. Leif touched her tangled hair and swept it away from her face. “Cleanliness is honorable amongst men. You could brush it.”

  From his pouch he pulled free a comb made from bone. A knotted pattern was carved at its center. He thought of the woman who’d entrusted it in his care as he handed it to Aiden. The thrall accepted it from him and began to brush the tangles from her hair. The dark locks were pressed to her head, and he found himself wondering what she might look like with her hair pulled back into the braids his mother used to wear.

  “Neinn,” he said and gestured for her to stop. “I was wrong. It is better you wear it shaggy and dirty so no one wishes to take a closer look.”

  Her hand lowered. She tried to return the comb, but he shook his head. “Keep it. We should get back. I have a job to do—father will get angry if I take too long.”

  Leif looked at the slope that led up to the meadow. Aiden’s softened voice asked, “You will keep my secret from your kin?”

  He did not believe in dishonesty, as it showed a weakness of character, but he understood very well the honor of following the wishes of your father and the interest of self-preservation. He gave a curt nod. “Do your best at being a man. Let us attempt to complete our expedition and arrive back home. Then I will put my mind to what comes next—though I cannot imagine a path out of this. Will you be well enough so your injury will not slow you?”

  She washed the mud off her hands in the water lapping at her feet. “My poultice has taken some of the pain away. I will heal with time, but until then, I would die before appearing weak to any of those fool men. I speak not of you or your friend, of course.”

  “Of course,” he answered and hid his smile with a turn of his head. “I think Father will be pleased with the veg in your cloak. We may not touch land again for many days.”

  Leif began to climb up the hill, offering his hand to the thrall. She ignored his gesture and hiked up by herself. She shook out her hair so that it curtained her face once again and began to walk ahead of him.

  Before he could stop himself, he jogged to catch up with her. “What is your true name?”

  She turned her head and answered with a lowered voice, “In the land across the sea, I am known as Eilish.”

  He let the name drift through his mind, not wanting to grow attached. He’d never heard anything like it before. Nothing seemed more fitting for the unique woman forging ahead of him. With each step she took, her posture and stride changed, piecing together the character that would protect her presumed virtue from harm.

  They returned to the beach in haste. When they arrived on the windy bluff, their hair got swept in a torrent. He pointed down the side of the slope where some of the other thralls were bent over at the shore, digging in the sand. Eilish arched an eyebrow, and he explained, “They are finding our food—clams and mussels. Appear by their side like you never left.”

  Never casting a glance his way, she began to move down the slope. She kept to where the other unfree servants were working, blending in with them. Leif looked for his kin and found them at the other end of the cove. His uncle and father were speaking together and hadn’t appeared to notice Eilish slip back onto the beach. Leif walked toward them, catching part of the conversation.

  “—the man I overheard said he was expecting a merchant ship to come from the south by way of foreign lands, carrying many valuable goods. They arrive with the summer winds, carrying them north. So, to the south we must scout,” Ragna said, pointing in that direction.

  Rúni shook his head. “This place is unknown to me. I do not like voyaging in waters I do not know. If we had kept to the north like the last seasons—”

  “We might have drawn the attention of the trading companies,” his brother interrupted. “If we scour the same currents every year, then we might be found out. This is why I was given Ægir’s gifts and not you. I have the mind of a true jarl and god. Through me you will be lifted to greatness.”

  Ragna noticed Leif nearby and asked, “Why are you still on land? I do not know why I was given a son with such little wit. Must you hear my orders before you take action, or can you think without me? You know your job—find my treasure.”

  Leif said nothing, only nodded at his father. He knew how much Ragna resented his ability of flight, which was why he most often took the shape of the sea bird in private. He recalled the day when he was only fifteen and he spotted the largest bird he’d ever seen. It landed on the highest tree in the forest beside their farm. A strange sensation had overtaken him as he’d studied it. Blue threads illuminated with light from the gods traced over its body, showing him the ways of the great traveler. When Leif had sought escape from his father’s rigorous training in the waters of the fjord, he challenged himself to take to the skies as the mighty albatross.

  Leif unbuckled his belt and dropped it to the ground. He pulled off his shirt and untied his leather shoes. His father’s hardened stare fell on him when he realized what Leif was doing. Ragna’s eyes narrowed, and his jaw flexed. Leif returned his gaze as he called on the power that settled in his abdomen and allowed him to change his shape. His pores tingled while he thought of the blue threads that made up the form of the great bird.

  The transformation took place quickly. He felt not only his father’s stares, but his uncle’s, cousins’, Agnar’s and those of the laboring thralls about the beach. Most of them had seen events li
ke this before, but it was avoided whenever possible. Ragna didn’t like appearing less powerful than anyone, least of all Leif.

  In anger he flapped his wings, lifting himself off the ground. He swept over his father’s head, narrowly missing him, and flew past their ship. The breadth of his wingspan was wider than the knarr. Ocean winds lifted him higher. He felt his wings lock in place as he glided above the sea. Tiny specks were visible on the beach near the tiny toy boat.

  He rode against the air currents high above the water, then allowed them to carry him lower in a constant rhythm, never needing to flap his wings or expend energy. Leif knew his show would have a cost. His father would be displeased and angered by his display, but that had been his purpose. Their relationship was a constant push and pull of wills.

  The coast looked entirely different from so high in the sky. Small farms in the countryside were visible within eyesight of the sea. Narrow columns of smoke rose from smoldering fires that were presumably preparing meals for the people far below. His eyes scanned the ocean. The sun shone on its surface like it was made of the finest imported glass. He continued south, searching for a smudge, a spot on its face.

  No one, not even his father, knew what the world truly looked like or understood how small the lands really were. People appeared like ants from this perspective. Harmless and tiny. But he knew that was just an illusion. He’d seen just how violent and dangerous men could be.

  Lost in thought, he flew until the sun reached its highest point in the sky, when he finally saw something. Leif glided closer, lowering himself so the speck grew in size. He recognized the square sail and sweeping bow’s arch lifting up into a decorative swirl. It was a Northman’s ship. No one could harness the seas as well.