The first decisionhe made was to travel to the places on the map. Unsure of his, their, powers, he readied the horses. One to ride, one for supplies.
“What are you not telling me?” Ingeborg asked.
“Are you leaving on the morrow as you’d planned?” he asked instead of answering. His grandfather would want her protected.
“I know there is more to this than you are saying. Something that those papers revealed to you. You inherited that streak of stubbornness from Einar, Soren.” She turned to go back inside.
“Ingeborg,” he said softly. “I do not know much and have more questions than knowledge. I know where you will be and I will send word to you when I understand.”
She did not look at him as she nodded and went inside. If his dreams were correct, this house would not stand for long. If Ander was correct, Ingeborg would not be safe even on the northern isles. No one—no man, woman or child—would be safe from this great evil. But, it gave him some peace to know his aunt would not behere.
A sound drew his attention and he watched as Ran approached. She rode like a proud warrior maiden of old, in a gown over breeches. He remembered the feel of those legs wrapped around his waist as they joined. His mouth even watered as he remembered the taste of her skin and her mouth. His own breeches grew tight at such memories, so he turned away and finished tying the canvas that covered the supplies.
“Good day, Soren,” she said as she climbed down from the horse. “Is Ingeborg within?”
“Aye,” Soren said, taking the reins of her horse. “We will go after you’ve spoken to her.” He watched her enter the cottage after knocking on the door.
In a shorter time than he thought it would have taken, Ran and Ingeborg walked out, arm in arm, and stopped in front of the cottage. With their heads together and whispering quietly, he thought them plotting something against him. They’d done that before. Before . . .
“I am ready, Soren,” Ran said. “No need to frown.” She took the reins and mounted, seating herself quickly.
Soren walked to his aunt and hugged her. “Travel safe,” he whispered to her.
“Swear to me that you will save her, Soren. Swear it!” Ingeborg clung to his sleeves holding him close. “Choose no one, choose nothing, over her.” With that, Ingeborg released him and stepped back. Dabbing at her eyes, she called out her farewell to Ran and then met his eyes.
Whether Ran had told her or whether she’d gleaned it from reading Einar’s letters, Ingeborg knew that something bad was coming. And that they were at the center of it. When he glanced at Ran, her expression remained open.
His aunt began to sing softly, so that only he could hear it. Without thinking, he joined her in one of the songs that Einar had taught him. When the words ended, she smiled.
“It is a prayer, Soren. A prayer to the Old Ones to watch over you and bless you.” His mouth dropped open at her words. She knew? “Some mere women learn much by listening, you know.”
Did she know anything more?
“Einar told you to sing them when you needed help. Or guidance. Remember that, Soren. It is important.” She stepped inside and turned to close the door. “Gods be with you.”
Nothing in his life was as it seemed only weeks before.
As he walked to his horse, he felt Ran studying him. The words, those last words, that Ingeborg spoke had shaken him to his soul.
He’d always thought he’d been defending Einar against false charges, but the more he discovered, the more he began to realize that his grandfather was truly a heretic. If Soren held powers believed to be granted from an ancient god, did that not make him one as well?
Soren felt the entire world beneath his feet shift in that moment. He was not the man he thought himself to be. He would not lead the life he thought he would. His relatives were not what he thought them to be.
“Are you well, Soren?” Ran asked.
“I think not,” he replied. What else could he say to her?
“What did Ingeborg say to you?” She guided her horse closer.
“Her words matter not. She simply made me realize that we are crossing a line in doing this. Everything we were raised to believe in our lives was wrong. Now we will seek to learn what the truth is.”
“A good thing, seeking the truth?” she asked, watching him closely. Her green eyes narrowed and he knew exactly what she was thinking about then.
“In this? I am not certain, Ran,” he admitted, mounting the horse and guiding it over next to hers. “But it does not appear that we have a choice in this. ’Tis either go and find it or it will find us.”
“I am not good at waiting,” she said. Which, to him, referred to several different matters.
She was impatient when something needed to be done. She was worse when it came to waiting for something to be done. Worst though was her impatience in passion. He had to look away then, for he was certain the lust would be on his face and she would know what he was thinking about.
