Lightning Scarred

by Carolyn Ivy Stein

  Hadn't Jörd said that she would be a worthy fighter by her husband's side? What kind of fighter gave up in the face of an adversary? And what kind of adversary was snow? So, each day she found herself pulling the sledge in her turn, fighting against the pain caused by uncaring snow and muscle-testing mountains. It was easier to face a human enemy than the cold dispassionate environment.

  Each morning she prayed. Jörd? Are you watching over us? Will you keep us safe? Please show us food. Protect us, Jörd.

  Jörd never answered her silent prayer but she had met the goddess once and trusted the gods weren't done with her or Caedmon yet.

  The sledge stopped.

  Caedmon pulled, but it didn't budge.

  "Wait, let me check," Magnihild said. She looked underneath for rough ice, but it seemed as smooth as ever. She pulled off one embroidered mitten and ran a finger along the cold runner. She felt clumps of ice underneath the wood. No wonder it had stopped. Mere wood wasn't slick enough to make a heavy sledge easy to pull.

  "We need to re-coat the rails," she said.

  Caedmon slumped and rubbed his face and eyes with his gloved hand, then shook his hand as if he were trying to get blood to flow back into it.

  "Rest a bit," Magnihild said. "I'll take care of the runners." She took a deep breath, feeling the icy air chill her lungs, waking her and giving her a few more moments of strength. The air tasted of resin and ice.

  She pulled out a leather bag with the glop they'd made of moss and slightly rancid seal fat and tipped the sledge onto its side. It shouldn't, but the greasy smell brought a rumble from her stomach. Ignoring it, she dipped a strip of polar bear hide into the bag and applied a layer to the runners. Then she swigged a mouthful of water and spit it along the rails. In this weather, it froze quickly, which was a blessing. She patiently applied three more layers of fat and water, scraping each until they presented a smooth surface that would allow the sledge to slip along the ice.

  Once she was done, the rails had a slick surface that would glide along the ice until it was time to resurface the runners again. She thought it would be enough to keep them going until the end of the day. They were lucky that the ground was smooth today with solid ice and a heavy coating of snow. In worse terrain they would have had to stop and redo the coating several times in a day. Perhaps Jörd was looking out for them with that heavy snowfall, after all.

  She smiled up at Caedmon. He was rubbing his left wrist vigorously.

  "Lightning pain?" she asked.

  "I don't think so. Probably just the weight of the sledge."

  She pulled his hand toward her and slipped off his mitten. She thought she knew his hand as well as her own by now, but it looked different today. His pale skin was even paler. Was the cold causing damage? The lightning marks also looked strange, but she couldn't figure out the difference. The scars couldn't move, could they? She was sure the feathery pattern bent left, but it was bending right. Her earlier impression must have been mistaken. She guided his hand inside her cloak, warming the skin with her own body heat.

  "Is it both hands or just the one?" she asked.

  "Just the one."

  She nodded. "Is the warmth helping?"

  "Yes."

  Unlikely to be lightning pain then. Nothing stopped that. Not warmth. Not ice. Nothing.

  "I will take my turn pulling the sledge, while you rest your hand," she said.

  "My turn isn't over. And I'm stronger than you are."

  In truth he looked anything but strong as he hunched over, lines of weariness forming at the edges of his eyes and along his forehead.

  "True enough. You will need to reserve your strength so that you can take over for me when I weaken. I'll be okay. You know it is always easiest when the runners are freshly coated," she said lightly.

  He grunted.

  Exhaustion painted every crease in his face. The lightning marks seemed a brighter red, though that was probably because his skin was paler. She wished that they could turn around and head home. Not just for her own sake, but for the man she'd grown to love in the last year. But if they did, they would be called cowards and people would die for today's short-lived comfort. She knew Caedmon would never agree to that. And, despite her own misgivings, she wouldn't want that either. Better to die trying to save one's kin than live in ignominy.

  Magnihild handed the map to Caedmon to determine their route. She gripped the wooden bar across the top of the sled and dragged it forward. She'd gone only a few feet when the sledge stopped moving, jerking her back. She fell on her rear end into the snow.

  "That shouldn't happen. The rails should be slick." Her voice had a whining tone that shamed her as she spoke. "We should be good for at least a few hours before we need to reapply the moss."

  "Could be there's something under the snow. Help me dig, Magnihild," he said.

  Together they moved aside several feet of light, powdery snow and uncovered a wall and ceiling of intricately carved ice deep under the snow. Inside, they could see a gently flickering light, as if a fire raged within. But no ice wall could stand up to fire. It had to be something else.

  It took them an hour, but they finally moved enough snow to reveal a house made entirely from carved ice beneath the surface of the snow and ice. Abstract images of whales, octopuses, and seals adorned the door which had a small opening and a piece of hide hanging invitingly outside. Whatever was inside looked enormous and moved like liquid, appearing and disappearing beyond the translucent ice walls.

  Her stomach roiled as if she had eaten the rancid seal fat and moss that coated the rails and her skin tingled all over as if a thousand small insects had taken up residence. She shook as she pressed her face against the cold ice wall. She hungered to see the large figure inside but felt a howling anger speaking into her mind, a hunger for freedom and destruction.

  "Let's go inside," Caedmon said.

  Magnihild was already pulling the piece of hide, pushing her body as close as possible to the icy walls, craving knowledge of the creature behind the door. From another dimension she could hear her sensible self tell her body to stop, to consider that there might be danger within.

  She pulled again at the hanging hide, but it didn't open. She could see a glow of power, like a sunstone still buried under ice and snow. She tried to reach for it as she pulled at the strip of hide, but it slipped out of place and slid further into the snow. To make matters worse, the door still wouldn't open.

  Why was everything stuck today? She could ask Caedmon to help her but she was impatient to see the shapes she felt moving within, so she ignored him and put her strength into one last pull.

  "Stop."

  She froze.

  The voice was thin and reedy like the sound of wind whistling through trees, but it carried into the spaces in the far corner of her heart that even her sensible mind couldn't penetrate.

  "Leave it be," the voice said.

  Reluctantly, Magnihild dropped the piece of hide and turned toward the voice. She saw a woman dressed completely in white from the white fur hood to her white leather boots. Even her long braids were white tied with white leather ribbons. Ice witch?

  The stranger muttered something to herself and made an almost casual hand motion. She twisted her wrist and a flurry of snow from her hand swirled around all three of them. As the snowstorm picked up speed, it dumped a coating of snow over the ice building they'd just unearthed. Hours of work wasted.

  "Leave this place," the witch said.

  "We cannot. We have business here," Caedmon said. Magnihild could tell by the way his eyes slid back to the carved ice door that he longed to get back to the work of entering it.

  The witch shook her head. "You are unwelcome strangers. Depart while you can still do so under your own power. This part of the world is not made for you. You will find nothing here but death."

  As if to illustrate her words, a large white beast leapt into their midst heading for the unarmed witch. The woman motioned in the air and the snowf
all escalated into a blizzard that swirled like a cyclone. An ice wall appeared from nowhere and crashed to the ground, shards of ice flying through the air.

  Magnihild reached for her sword but Caedmon was faster, his sword almost flew into his hand as he stepped between the woman and the enormous bear, for that was what had invaded their convocation. He brought his sword down with single powerful stroke over the great beast's head.

  Magnihild lunged forward, plunging the sword into the beast's side. It would have been enough to kill an ordinary beast, but this bear was extraordinarily large and covered in thick fur that deflected their swords. The swords slid against the bear’s fur, missing vital organs. The beast would die from the wounds, certainly, but not before it killed them.

  Magnihild was the closest and the beast raked its claws across her dress, rending her cloak, ripping through her dress, and causing one of her dress brooches to fly across the snow. She felt pain burn down her left ribcage and the wet heat of her own blood as it soaked through her clothing.

  The witch muttered something in a strange language. An ice spear slid from the center of the storm and flew as if launched by a bow. It embedded itself in the polar bear's fur. The great beast fell. His blood coated the white landscape as it poured from him, freezing in swirls of red on the ice. To Magnihild, hungry as she was, it smelled like food and she imagined cooking it.

  Caedmon leveled his sword at the witch but Magnihild put her hand on his and gently pushed the sword down.

  "I think we can parley with the witches. Can't we?" She gazed steadily at the ice witch as if she could force compliance through her eyes alone.

  The ice witch, if that was indeed what she was, lifted her chin and the storm intensified around them. It lashed Magnihild's cheeks. She could barely see Caedmon next to her through the swirling snow.

  "We are here to trade," Caedmon said raising his voice to shout into the whirlwind.

  "We provide for ourselves, and we have no need for your iron tools or ugly fabrics. Begone!" The witch drew herself up and it seemed to Magnihild that she grew taller and broader.

  The wind tugged at the cloak Magnihild had wrapped tightly over her head and it fell away from her face, exposing her cheeks to pelting ice crystals. The witch stepped forward and touched the lightning scars on Magnihild's cheek. Underneath the woman's fingers little sparks rose from her lightning scars, burning and tingling.

  The witch nodded to herself and then turned to Caedmon, pulling his scarf from his face and fingering his lightning scarred cheeks. An involuntary moan escaped Caedmon's lips and Magnihild could see the lightning rising from the witch's fingers whenever she touched the scarring.

  Apparently satisfied, the witch stepped back into the center of the storm and raised her arms to the sky. The swirling curtain of snow congealed into shapes all around them but they hovered just beyond Magnihild's gaze. She wasn't sure what she was seeing. Then one of the shapes closest to the witch, a large twisted thing about the height of her father's largest warrior and the width of two of him put together shook itself and the snow fell off.

  The immense figure walked to the side of the ice witch and Magnihild realized it was the largest woman Magnihild had ever seen. Looking into the strange blue eyes and cheeks tattooed with the symbol of Thor, Magnihild thought that it was some sort of non-human, a giantess perhaps. The giantess patted the witch, who bent her head respectfully. Then the giantess closed the distance between Magnihild and Caedmon.

  Part of Magnihild felt giddy to be in the presences of such power, part of her quavered in fear. The trained Viking warrior within her made note of six ways she could escape or turn the situation to a victory if the giantess attacked.

  "Are you here for food, children?" the giantess asked. Her voice sounded as cold as the wind whipping the waves during a storm but did not seem unkind for all that. "You may take this polar bear with you as our gift to succor you as you return to the sea. This is in recognition of your bravery against the mad Kaneedma. It shall keep you fed long enough to rejoin your companions."

  "No, Honored One. We have come to find sunstones. We can pay a good price for them, but we cannot leave without what we came for," said Caedmon. His voice deepened to the one he used in court when he spoke as his father's representative.

  Magnihild wasn't sure it was wise to be so direct with what they needed, but her only experience with merchants was raiding them with her father. In that activity, speed and misdirection were key and excessive talking was simply unwise. But trade was Caedmon's expertise and they'd agreed that he’d handle it if they found witches or others who might have sunstones.

  "As you can see, we lack for nothing." The witch waved her hand in the air pointing behind her. "We do not need you or your possessions. Our sunstones are not for sale."

  So, they did have sunstones. Good. If the negotiations did not go well, they could always conduct a night raid and take them.

  The swirling snow settled on round buildings and towers formed from ice blocks reaching three stories high. Lights flickered within some of the buildings and ice witches of all sizes, from as large as a double-sized man to as small as an arctic hare, moved through the packed snow streets. Magnihild swore the city had not been there before. They couldn't have missed an entire city, could they have? She blinked, feeling the ice crystals along her lashes graze and then melt against her cheeks.

  "Nonetheless, I am Caedmon. This is Magnihild, my wife and true companion. We journeyed from beyond the Great Northern Sea to speak with you and to trade. We request your hospitality."

  Magnihild gasped. Asking for hospitality meant putting their lives and safety at the hands of these frightening women. Who knew if they even understood the duty of a host out here in the northern wasteland? She had heard of travelers who ventured far to the south in the Mediterranean Sea relying on hospitality who had been robbed or killed.

  Worse still, it bound Magnihild and Caedmon, tying their hands. It meant that they couldn't simply conduct a raid for the sunstones and be on their way. This complicated matters. Not for the first time, Magnihild appreciated her father's wisdom in keeping to their own kind and raiding for what they couldn't supply on their own.

  On the other hand, looking around at the mysterious city that had appeared before their eyes, raiding the ice witches might not be wise. Knowing who not to raid was as much a part of strategy and tactics as knowing how to form men into integrated raiding parties. Perhaps her husband was right to give up this option in favor of the hospitality that would bind both parties.

  She looked around the city. The buildings looked as if they had been carved from diamonds. She smelled a delicious stew and salivated. She was so hungry. Even if the witches extended hospitality toward them, she doubted that they would share their food. In truth, she doubted that anyone living so far from the civilized world knew what hospitality was.

  "We pledge hospitality to you. But we are not interested in trading our sunstones. It is difficult even for us to find more," the giantess said gently. "We will give you a place to sleep tonight and a meal, then you must go back to your home."

  Caedmon unstrapped the load from the sledge and reached for the box with the salt, spices, gems, and amber that they'd brought to trade. They'd packed most valuable trade goods that their two kingdoms could afford. "We can pay for sunstones. Please just take a look and consider—"

  A crack of thunder echoed through the icy city and shook the ground. At the same time a surge of agony radiated along Magnihild's spine scalding her skin. Her vision blurred. An intense pressure slammed into her brain. She cried out and tried desperately to stay upright but she tottered and nearly fell. In her personal crimson cave of pain, thoughts took a long time to resolve.

  Lightning pain. The worst yet.

  As it cleared, she saw Caedmon sprawled on the ground, convulsing. The giantess stepped past them and at first Magnihild thought the witches were attacking them but quickly realized they were running toward something else. Two witc
hes were flung into the air by an unseen force and landed hard near Caedmon. Since they were witches, perhaps they could survive, but nothing human would have survived that.

  She struggled to stand and gawked. Someone—no something had broken free of the carved ice house under the snow. All of the witches converged and skirmished with their spells but they didn't affect the beast.

  Nothing should have been able to remain in shadow against the blinding white snow, but whatever had escaped seemed to be indistinct, as if it were creeping through the world in halfway slices, transforming as it moved. One moment it was a tentacled monster, the next it was a cloud of fog. One moment it resembled a man. The next it was a killer whale beached on the icy shore. It rippled through forms, indistinct, appearing as through it were engulfed in swells of sea water.

  Magnihild gagged on the miasma of rotten fish and dead seals that rose from the ice house as she struggled to join the fight.

  A voice spoke in her head. “This is anti-life. It must be destroyed or contained.”

  Was it her own thought? The witches? Jörd?

  "Where is the sunstone?"

  Magnihild wasn't sure who had shouted, perhaps one of the witches. Magnihild gripped her sword. From the corner of her eye she saw Caedmon rise with his sword. He looked terrible, but he breathed in the icy air and ran toward their foe. Magnihild followed.

  "Stop." The witch they had first encountered seized Magnihild's arm causing her to stagger back. "Lightning. There is a better way." She reached into her sleeve and pulled out the largest sunstone Magnihild had ever seen and pressed it against Magnihild’s chest. There was intense agony, but this time Magnihild remained upright. She heard the same voice in her head.

  “Lightning can still the anti-life. Do it.”

  In that moment, Magnihild saw what she had to do. She raised her arms as the witch pressed the sunstone against her heart. The power buzzed within her, burning her skin. Water froze on her face. The only relief from the pain came from her own tears.