“I hear his name often enough, but I know very little about him.”
Astrid’s eyes blinked several times, as though she could clear her surprise away. “I’ve always liked the tale of the creation of humankind.”
It seemed like a good place to start, if he truly wished to learn stories of the gods.
“Odin, Vili, and Vé were three brothers, just as you and your brothers—” She paused, remembering that Cormac actually had a fourth brother, though she hadn’t realized it until just a few hours ago. She continued, deciding to stay clear of discussions of his family. “They walked together along the ocean’s seething shore.” She tried her best to recall the verbiage used by the skalds. “They are Aesir, powerful creators and rulers of men.”
“They are gods,” he interrupted.
“Yes, shush. As they walk, they spy two pieces of driftwood so big that the brothers must work together to move them further ashore. As they move the driftwood, they feel the potential of each piece deep in their bones. The wood is alive, or it could be.”
Cormac walked beside her in silence, but instead of looking ahead, he glanced at her constantly, as captivated by the story now as she had been as a child.
“Using their hands, they tear into the wood, carving it, shaping it, with no tools at all. When they finish, two new creatures like there have never before been on the earth stand lifeless before them: a man and a woman.
“But they are not finished. Odin shares his breath with them, bringing them to life, but they are still figures of wood, covered in bark like the trees they came from. So Vé steps forward. He touches their eyes, ears, and mouths, granting them sight, hearing, and the ability to speak.
“Finally, Vili approaches. He places his hands on their heads and awakens their minds. He grants them movement as well and, when he finishes, the man and the woman can finally breakfree of their wooden casings. They move about, talking with one another and exploring the world before them.
“Seeing the creatures they have made, the gods decide they need names. Askr, the ash tree, the father of all men. Embla, the elm tree, the mother of all women. And that is one reason why Odin is the All-Father, for he and his brothers created all of us.”
“I like that story,” Cormac whispered, his breath turning to steam in the darkening night. “You should tell me more the next time we speak.”
Astrid nibbled her lower lip, uncertain what to say next and uncertain why she was having such a reaction to this man. Only a fortnight ago, she couldn’t stand him.
She still couldn’t stand him. But even as the thought crossed her mind, an emotion alarmingly similar to disappointment fell over her as she watched Cormac walk away from her and into the hall. Astrid would need to take great care going forward in her interactions with Cormac. Because caring for him could only cause problems for them both.
Chapter Fourteen
Cormac, left suddenlyto his own devices, entered the hall to find it uncomfortably full. All he wanted to do was turn straight around and sneak into his room, avoiding all of the chaos before him. He didn’t have any problem spending leisure time with his friends. Even an evening spent gaming with Sitric and his men was fun enough, but he much preferred quiet evenings with a few friends to the chaos of the hall. At least with so many people stuffing the building, Cormac had a good chance of avoiding his father and brother. He needed time to recharge before he took on that particular challenge.
Winding through the thick press of bodies, Cormac squeezed his way back to his brothers, who already sat at the table they shared with Sitric and his family. Sitric wasn’t sitting now. He plied the crowd with smiles and hugs.
“There you are,” Conan greeted him, handing him a flagon of ale.
Cormac fell into a seat to the left of his brother, taking the offering gratefully.
“We wondered where you’d gone off to.” Diarmid leaned forward so he could see past Conan as he spoke to Cormac.
“Didn’t all the other competitors go to bathe?” Cormac asked.
Conan nodded. “Most, but you must have gone off somewhere different.”
Cormac shrugged, deciding it best not to comment on his time alone with Astrid. He wasn’t certain how he felt about it, and he certainly wasn’t prepared to discuss it with anyone else.
“Have you spoken with father at all? We haven’t been over to see him or Teague yet.” Diarmid looked around the room. “Though I don’t know that I’d even be able to find them in this mess.”
“So many people that even my boisterous brother finds it overwhelming,” Cormac mused aloud. “You should tell Sitric of his grand accomplishment.”
“I think they’re here for an alliance with Sitric against Brian,” Conan said, returning to Diarmid’s question. “I’m not even certain it matters whether Teague wins or not.”
“I think it does,” Diarmid argued. “If Sitric formed an alliance with Father behind Brian’s back, but publicly at the tournament, Brian would get word of it and likely retaliate.”
“And, let’s not forget that Cahill fought against Sitric in the battle that lost him Dyflin last winter,” Cormac added. “A marriage might smooth out any ill will that remained from the battle.”
Both his brothers nodded in agreement, all three of them taking long drinks of their tart, smoky ale.
“So you think that if Teague doesn’t win, there won’t be an alliance.” Diarmid summarized.
