“Are you really that stupid, Jorvik? We all saw the Northern Lights the night Harald sacrificed her. We knew something changed and we’ve been ignoring it,” Joanna interrupts. Letting the leather flap fall from the quiver, she takes out the long silver bow as tears gather in her eyes. “We all saw the runes on Divination night. We are to find the herd, and this is why. This is our fate. The people willhelp you, Shaw.” Joanna looks at the bow like it might catch on fire at any minute.
“There aren’t any arrows?” Jorvik asks, walking around the table, wanting to come closer to Joanna, but clearly afraid to do so with Vidarr by her side.
“Only the archer can conjure an arrow,” I chime in.
“So what? We are going to convince the people to trek to the pass in the snow and find the herd? Which is where my sister is?” Jorvik is full of questions that aren’t easy to answer without shaking his confidence in the plan. Not even knowing if the plan will work, I ignore him for the moment.
“Why don’t we show our guests some hospitality and get them cleaned up. The Hall will be full of hungry Vikings in an hour, and many will be happy to see the blacksmith alive and well,” Joanna intercedes, handing me back the quiver as she dissipates the tension in the room.
“Fine,” Jorvik calls. Taking Joanna’s upper arm, he walks her to the doorway where we cannot hear and whispers who knows what into her ear. I know that look on her face. She is being threatened, but I have to trust she can handle herself. Jorvik will pay for what he’s done when Rasha is back by my side.
29
RASHA
Shaw fell asleep quickly, but my thoughts couldn’t find peace, so I wandered through the cave, admiring the glowing runes. Curiosity got the better of me as I followed them deeper into the mountain until I found a huge carving of a reindeer depicted on a cave wall. From its bowed antlers, several streams of water flowed down and into the crevices in the stone.
The water called to the very marrow of my bones, so I dipped my hand in like I saw Shaw do yesterday. Without even a moment to retreat, I was swept into sparkling darkness.
Wobbling on my achy legs, I feel as if my joints are too loose, like there is nothing holding my body together besides my own withering veins. Around my wrist is Shaw’s chain, but I don’t have the amulet or the bow, and I don’t know where I am.
I assume I am near the Vanheim, or in it. The walls are covered in iridescent waves, forming ribbons of scrollwork in the stone. Shaw said the mountain is a place of connection where the earth meets fire, wind, and water. This room has none of those elements. It is hollow and airless like the shrine. My feet timidly shuffle over the smooth floor. I expect it to be icy cold, but it’s warm in the lack of natural light.
Vidarr can travel back and forth through the open channel in the Vanheim. Should I be able to as well? With the chain looped around my fingers, I press my hands together and remember what it felt like the night I attached my link to the chain, focusing on the expansion of my blood and bones to hold the magic it took to bond our souls. I open my hands and pour all of my focus into finding any magic inside me. Tugging and pulling at tiny fragments floating around, I can tell my blood is trying to make each tidbit come together.
“Please work,” I whisper. Shaking, I feel heat and bone crushing pressure, but nothing happens. I crash to my knees and pull my legs underneath me, taking deep breaths.
“Okay, so where do I go from here?” My voice sounds far away like in my dream. All around me the runes flicker and glow brighter, leading into more shadows.Do I walk through the shadows? Or do I wait for help?I stand back up with determination.
The last time I waited for help I almost died. With newfound courage, I step into the shadows, and the blue scroll waves understand my need. Letting out a breath, my fingers graze the walls while the errant magic I’ve been harboring moves to my hands the way I wish it did a few minutes ago.
“Shaw,” I whisper to myself. The corridor is growing colder the further I walk, but the designs are becoming familiar. They are the same as the broken tattoo on Shaw’s shoulder, which is encouraging.
The ground trembles, and I reach for the walls to stabilize myself, but wind comes from nowhere and everywhere, engulfing me in blustery, cold gale. Currents of blue illuminate the room, and I exhale, watching my breath curl in the freezing air. Rubbing my hands over my arms to get warm, I grip the chain tighter, willing all my strength into the links.
“I need you. Where are you?” I whisper as my lips start to tremble against the cold. In an instant, wide beams of light come from above, showing a woman walking my way with long white hair and a strong body. I recognize the bow that she’s carrying and the markings drawn across her cheeks.
“Skadi?” I call out, but she doesn’t hear me. I am starting tothink she isn’t real. Maybe I am not either, and my body is still sleeping next to Shaw’s in the cave. Running to her, I push my hands through the beams of light and through where her body should be. The edges of her elegant form falter, vibrating through the channel we must be stuck in.
“Show me,” falls from my lips. I have been in her shrine and have listened to the stories of the forgotten goddess since I was a child. No one has ever been through the Vanheim and lived to tell about it. But I have fought to stay alive and have drawn out magic from a man who is not of my world. The tugging at my heart is not solely from Shaw’s chain. The delicate fabric of my soul remembers and is reaching out, looking for our story.
“Please, show me what I need to see so I can go home.” I pat my coat down, landing on a small hunting knife, his hunting knife, and take it out of the sheath. Dragging the razor-sharp edge down my ring finger, I rub the skin until blood forms. It’s easy to find her runes because they are the same as in her shrine under the ice.
Preparing myself for what will come next, I trace the runes with the blood beading on the pad of my finger, and the temperature plummets to freezing. The walls sparkle, blinding me in blue and white lights coming from every single rune until I am forced to close my eyes. My eyelids turn orange from the hot light filling the room, and panic grips me that the icy floor will melt.
The nose buzzing scents of Spring awaken my senses, and I open my eyes. The walls and ceiling are gone, the runes are gone, and I am standing in a blooming field on the edge of the fjord where I found the bow. Behind me, I see the mountains are glorious peaks of flowers and green grass. Swaying back and forth in the warm breeze, the trees house birds of all sizes, and I hear waves lapping at the black sand beach.
My head swivels as I feel a thousand hoofbeats thundering this way. Reindeer are running as fast as their slender legs will carry them between the mountains, through the same spot Harald’s stronghold now sits. I hide, but then I remember this is not my reality, it’s hers.
Thousands of long, curved antlers group together in a mass ofhazel and gray fur, coming through the flower-drenched field. They make a circle around me like they are following a path that cannot be seen by human eyes. In the fray of hooves and wet velvet noses, I see two reindeer together, nudging one another at a much slower pace. One is pure white and the other a rich hazel.
They are breaking from the massive herd and trotting through the trees. Following the line of peeling spring birch trees, I run on instinct. I am a hunter. If I was to hunt deer, I’d kill the ones who have broken from the herd.
The chain wrapped around my wrist grows hot like it did the day I connected my link. Pushing through the first few lines of reindeer, I manage to get past the loops of focused creatures and see Viking men coming through the trees on the other side of the fjord.
It happens before I have the chance to take a breath. With bows at the ready, they let arrows fly across the narrow inlet where the beautiful white reindeer is drinking. She falls. My body clenches, and I rub my chest, trying to rub away the heart shattering death.
Looking at the massive, hazel reindeer who is momentarily frozen, I try to scream, but my voice is lost. He runs, his reindeer form changing into a man’s as he pushes his way through the forest and out of sight. I move too but not after him. Before I can register what I am doing, I am kneeling at the white reindeer’s dying body. The first arrow hit her neck, the second, close to her heart.
