“I am not even supposed to be here helping you! I am not supposed to interfere in your penance, brother,” Vidarr growls, pushing away from me to follow Rasha’s trail of illuminated runes. Gathering my composure, I follow him, digging deep within my bones to find the tiny fragments of our bond. I give our bond what is left of my magic to keep her mortal body alive wherever she is.
Vidarr is quiet, leading the way and allowing me to stew in my feelings. So many things should have gone differently. Last night, we should have made for the Beaivi Clan instead of staying here in the hot pools. Am I a fool for denying her every night and not making the links sooner? Skadi was so unhappy in the Vanheim that I brought her to the mountains in the Mortal Realm, thinking shewould be free, but her freedom came at a price. I cannot let Rasha fall to the same fate.
“Stop thinking so loudly. Rasha is superior to you in most ways, so give her some credit why don’t you?” Vidarr jabs at me to lift my spirits, and I offer a wincing smile.
“There are parts of the Vanheim I wish for her to never be subjected to.”
“Vali is only trying to finish his deal. He knows he cannot keep her in between worlds.”
“She found the first reindeer,” my voice slips into a whisper when we arrive where Rasha left the realm. Deep within the stone is a carving of the first reindeer my father sacrificed, marking the center of the Mortal Realm. From the carved antlers, all rivers flow. The largest vein of gold water connects the Immortal and the Mortal Realm, which we call the Ivalo River. With her new strength, she must have wandered through the caves like a moth to the flame. She is searching for our home without realizing, which is my fault to be honest.
Vidarr squats to put his hands into the glossy water flowing from the large carving down the rocks and under our feet. Immediately, his fingers sink into the slow flowing current.
“I cannot follow you,” I remind him. We head back to the entrance I used yesterday with Rasha, minding the multicolored streams of water winding and weaving through the mountain.
“The rivers haven’t been this full while you’ve been exiled here. It’s a sign, brother. A good one. I will stay as long as I can.” His offer comforts me, though I don’t deserve to feel comforted. The amulet in my vest pocket grows cold now that we are far away from the carving. Vidarr wipes his forehead on his coat sleeve and marches past me with Aslaug on his heels. “How do you finish the ritual?”
“I need the herd to accept my penance. They were Skadi’s creatures,” I explain. Bright sun from what was supposed to be a glorious morning blinds me when we cross the last expanse of rock at the entrance of the mountain. We walk to where Rasha’s reindeer is curled up under an evergreen tree, sleeping. Clicking my tongue, I see my reindeer gracefully bow his antlered head, coming to greetme. The amulet lurches in my pocket, and I grip my chest. Our last conversation gives me an idea.
“So do you still have that star map to find the herd?” Vidarr hauls his limber body up to her reindeer.
“We need to get to her clan first.” I find my own plan unfolds as I speak.
“You’re going to trust the mortals?”
“She trusted them. Maybe for her, they will do what I am failing to accomplish,” I tell him. We mount the reindeer to ride to the Beaivi Clan.
It doesn’t take us long to descend the mountain and pick up speed in the snow covered valley. Being immortal has its advantages, which Vidarr uses to the fullest by keeping the reindeer running so they barely sink into the snow and bending the forest to reveal the easiest path. We stop once so I can show him the antler map that Rasha risked her life to retrieve for me. Using his power over the sky, Vidarr changes a small section of the day to night so we can read the stars and make sure we are traveling in the right direction.
“When you were an eagle, were you able to see if Harald left the Aske Stronghold?” I only ask to be sure, but he scoffs like I am questioning his abilities.
“He is on the move. What is set in motion will be hard to stop, even with willing Vikings from the Beaivi Clan,” he retorts, slamming the magic shut and returning the small swath of sky back to its properly bright blue. Pulling the reins of his reindeer, he spurs the magnificent animal along, and I shove down my arrogance to follow him.
I am reminded of taking Vidarr and Vali to the Mortal Realm when they were young as we ride through the frosty forest. When our father’s soul left his body, he became one with the stars, and it was up to me to take his place.
I was responsible for guiding my brothers and teaching them how to keep our worlds revolving and thriving. Most of the time, they were getting into trouble or testing each other like young boys do. But seeing Vidarr ride beside me now, I realize how much I have longed to go back to those days. Bringing my reindeer flush withVidarr’s, I send a flurry of snow over his head, and he flares his nostrils at me.
“I am sorry for failing you.”
He shakes the snow from his dark hair. “I forgave you a long time ago.”
“Though I appreciate it, I still left you to fend for yourself. I shouldn’t have been so clouded in my decisions.” Admitting to Vidarr what I have felt for hundreds of mortal years eases the twisted tension in my chest.
“There were many times I wanted to come here and pound your face into the ground for Skadi’s death. But I’ve grown up, Shaw. I am not so little or so foolish to think it was all your fault. Skadi could have stayed in the Vanheim.” Vidarr’s words release the guilt, if only by a fraction, that I have held onto and moulded into every link, save one, on that fucking chain.
“See, the Beaivi’s haven’t been bombarded yet.” He points through the cliff to a valley below where hot smoke drifts up in ribbons from a collection of thatched roof huts.
“Now comes the difficult part.”
“Keeping them from killing us?” Vidarr chuckles, and I shake my head, guiding my reindeer down to the well-traveled, muddy road.
“Convincing them Rasha is alive,” I tell him. We keep our weapons at the ready as we travel closer to the old wall surrounding the village. I tell Aslaug to keep to the forest for now. Jorvik wasn’t lying when he said the clan needed Harald’s coin; some posts are tilted to hold up parts of the wall that are about to collapse. There are longboats half finished, and only a few pelts drying on racks, which means the people have sorely missed the huntresses who attended Yule in Harald’s clan.
“Look who is alive.” Bjorn slides his body out from the other side of the gate, swinging his axe through an already beat up post. Wood chips fly in every direction, and Vidarr’s magic rises around us.
“I can say the same about you. What are you doing here, Bjorn?” I ask, dismounting and leading the reindeer behind me.
“I traveled to the Beaivi Clan with Jorvik, the new head of council. Harald is with his own party, locating the reindeer herd. Then this miserable clan will be dissolved. Who’s your friend, and where did he get his clothes?” Bjorn misses nothing, eyeing the golden threads in Vidarr’s long coat.
