The memories mingle with the pain searing through my probably cracked knee, bringing a sting to my eyes. My shoulders slump with each labored breath while Harald barks orders to the men who are supposed to be hauling me around.
“Get him to the medicine woman! Why are you just watching him? And where is Rasha?”
Long and lean, Bjorn’s tunic is covered in blood, and there is no mistaking the snide smile across the face of the man I can’t wait to pummel into the ground.
“Oh, Bjorn, have you seen her?” Harald asks of his second and closest friend. A Viking by the name of Erik helps me drag my feet across the floor, but I lean my head back to listen as we walk, hoping Bjorn will mention Aslaug or what I assume he stole from me.
“Rasha went to bed. We saw her with her heathen friend. Sadly, the brunette isn’t as well endowed as your soon to be wife.” Bjorn’s voice answering the Jarl is the last thing I hear before the back door swings closed.
Whoever Rasha is, she has to be the meekest woman in their clan if she’s going to be happy with Harald for the rest of her life. The dim light of the hallway does nothing to keep my spirits up. The last time I came to the stronghold the stone walls were not fully erected, and they asked me to teach their blacksmiths how to make the iron clamps that help support the towering walls.
“Who is the Yule Maiden this year?” I ask Erik, only to keep myself conscious.
“Rasha. Same one Harald’s after. She’s the one you’ll be making the rings for. You are the goldsmith, aren’t ya?” Erik asks, and I grumble ayesas best I can through the increasingly swollen parts of my jaw. The smell of a medicine room tingles my nose, andI brace my arm in the doorway while he ducks between dark curtains.
“Siggy, you back there? Shaw is in bad shape.”
“Too much to drink on the first night? That surprises me since the smith is…” Siggy’s words stop, and I know she’s seen me.
“I just need a tonic to sleep. I’ll be fine in the morning,” I say, but the stout, old woman helps me to a cot near her table of tools.
“Thank you, Erik,” she mumbles, her glassy gray eyes wandering over my blood and bruises. “Lay down, your leg might be broken. When did this happen? I told Harald that bringing all the clans together was going to be disastrous.” Her harsh words and steady hands exude the perseverance she’s needed to stick with being a healer in a clan full of ungrateful men.
“I didn’t even make it to the lighting. There was an altercation at the gate. I figured the log was already lit.”
Siggy nods, pushing short strands of gray hair back into the coronet around her head. She helps me get out of my ruined tunic and hands me an herb soaked rag. I sop up the blood and clean my bruises. The eyes of one who has had a vicious life always has more to tell behind stern looks.
“I have no love for Harald, so what’s on your mind, Siggy?” I ask, and she hands me a clean shirt.
“There is something happening behind the guise of this solstice. The woman who was chosen to be the Maiden is going to have her work cut out for her, and I fear she doesn’t know what is coming. Her brother came many times to negotiate with Harald.”
Rubbing my tender jaw, I ask, “Where is she from?”
“She is the lead huntress in the Beaivi Clan. That should jog your memory. Supposedly she’s a virgin, and she didn’t cower in fear like everyone else when Harald tried to use her moment for his own gain. I’ll give it her. She has the spirit of a Valkyrie.”
“She’s either smart or foolish. With the King backing Harald, she might be better off as the Jarl’s wife than a maiden whose days of hunting are numbered.”
“Why are you really here, Shaw? If I remember correctly, youstay away from women of the Beaivi Clan,” Siggy asks, mulling over our shared ideas of impeding oppression.
“Harald requested I make his wedding rings, and I have other business on the fjord.”
“I hope your other business doesn’t leave you this damaged. Your body isn’t what it used to be,” she says with a smile. A smile I remember from the first time I met her when her hair was a rich brown, and her eyes were clear and bright.
“Just a tonic for sleep, and I’ll be fine in the morning, Siggy,” I repeat as she searches for a slim wooden splint in her basket of bone setting equipment.
“You’ll do as I say,” she instructs. Taking various herbs and dried leaves off shelves, she adds a bit of one and a handful of another to a pestle before crushing everything. Handing me a small cup with the muddled tincture on the bottom, she finds a thick towel to remove the boiling kettle from the fire. Filling my cup with bubbling water, I let the heat soothe my aching knuckles and inhale the steam through my broken nose.
“I have to go back out in the morning. There’s something I need to find,” I explain, knowing panic is rising in my voice. I need to find Aslaug, my lynx who saved my life an hour ago, before one of these forsaken Vikings finishes killing her.
“Rest and I’ll set your leg,” she says as I bring the hot cup of medicine to my lips. The tang of the tincture burns as it slides down my throat.
Siggy places her arthritic hand over my chest to still my thundering heartbeat. She applies coats of salve to my shoulder, over the whorls of a blue tattoo, and mumbles soft prayers to the gods to watch over her room. The cot is warm, and the mattress bends with my body as I lay down. Siggy splints my leg, which sends blinding pain up through my chest, and I curse this whole fucking situation.
“Thank you,” is all I can manage before my eyes drift closed.
A memory of the inky blue night sky from a few weeks ago blurs behind my swollen eyes. Bright stars aligned the way they do only once in a great while. There had been no signs for years, so I paused outside my cabin while I was chopping wood. It was the first indicationthat my journey out of banishment was beginning. Why now after all this time?
For days, I gave Aslaug all the reasons why coming here was a terrible idea, and all she did was stare at me with her big amber eyes. The lynx has kept me company through my darkest times. Shuddering under the blanket Siggy threw over me, my aching muscles urge me to get up and find her. I can’t let her bleed out in the snow while I am safe and warm. But there is no way I’d risk bringing her in front of Harald’s clansmen, knowing the King will order his Jarl to kill her. Anything resembling the Immortal Realm is a threat to his new found power.
