A mighty burst of cheering greeted Hakon’s return to the tavern. Mugs and drinking horns were raised in toasts, and Thorfin himself stood up to cheer before drunkenly collapsing, much to the mirth of those who sat at his table.
“Brother!” cried Gunnar joyously, weaving his way to where Hakon stood, clapping him in an embrace. His head close to Hakon’s ear, he murmured, “Did she not show, then?”
“She did,” Hakon murmured back. “But then things got…strange. I’ll tell you more when we’re alone.”
“Sounds like a night for getting drunk, then,” observed Gunnar philosophically, setting a horn full of ale in his brother’s hand.
Hakon laughed. “Fate is fate,” he said, trying to shake off the gloom of his disappointment. He drained the horn in a single mighty draught, to the applause and cheers of the others.
***
Sif walked quickly through the night, her thoughts racing. Her passions had been raised by Hakon’s taking of her, and all she could think of was how glorious it had felt.May the goddesses help her, for everything had just felt…right. And how could that be so, when her path was so clearly in another direction, away from him? Why would Freyja give her the ability to be a spellsinger, and then lead her away from the Sisterhood of the Ironwood?
Sif shook her head, her golden hair swishing back and forth. “You thought this would be a simple thing,” she said to herself, savagely and mockingly, continuingto walk towards her parents’ home. “Ignore the pull of your heart, the direction of your thoughts and desires since you were old enough to have them. As if your need for Hakon, not to mention Hakon himself, would just step back and recede into the mist, now that you had a new calling! How could you be such a fool?”
Sif leaned against the doorpost of her family home, catching her breath. She cursed inwardly. By all the goddesses! What had possessed her? She knew—sheknew—that she had been called to be a spellsinger, that the Ironwood witches looked to her for the kind of leadership that the High Ones offered only once in a generation, if that.
And yet, when the time came, the pull of the promise she shared with Hakon had led her to stand in the place they had agreed upon long ago. And when she had felt his presence, his touch, Sif had come alive in a way she had not since they had been parted.
How could the gods and goddesses be so cruel? They had opened a path for her that led to the heights of knowledge and power, but that also led away from the love of her life.
Sif did love Hakon. That was clear it had not been her imagination, brightening the memories of her younger days. The feelings were all still there. Ifanything, they were more powerful than ever, burning hotly from where they had been deeply banked and buried within her.
“A hard night, my dear?”
Sif startled and turned to see her mother emerging from the darkness.
“Mother! Is Father here? I know he would not let you walk alone at night, even around the Jomsburg.”
“Huw is deep in his cups, jesting with Brynn. I slipped away, which I may well pay for later.” Astrid grimaced briefly then smiled. “As for me, Daughter, I knew how to handle myself in the world of men long before I met your father. I may have left the Ironwood, but the Ironwood has never left me, if you see what I mean.”
Astrid stepped onto the porch and laid a hand softly on Sif’s arm. “I think that the call of the Ironwood is much in your thoughts tonight, my daughter. It’s why I came to see if you might be here.”
Sif blushed and shot back, “And where else would you expect to find me?”
Astrid raised an eyebrow and gave her daughter a wry smile.
Sif blushed a second time, looked down, and had the grace to smile back as she lifted her head. “Forgive me, Mother. Obviously you’re not a fool.”
“I’m a mother, Sif dear, and mothers know.” Astrid gently drew her daughter into an embrace, hugging her fiercely before letting her go. “As a mother, I thought you could use a strong shoulder, and a listening ear.”
Sif felt tears begin to fall. “Oh, Mother, what am I supposed todo?”
Astrid guided her daughter down to sit on the porch steps, wrapping her thick cloak around them both. “Go on, my dear.”
“I thought I knew what I wanted. The Sisters of the Ironwood honor me beyond measure, not to mention the gifts the High Ones have given me! How can I turn away from that path?”
Astrid sighed with pity for her daughter. “But then there is Hakon,” she said gently.
“Exactly!” Sif gestured helplessly. “Oh, Mother, when I was younger, I thought he was my everything. Then I convinced myself it was only foolish infatuation and buried myself in my training in the Ironwood. Now I come back to find my feelings for him were real, that they were always real, and still are! What in thenine worlds am I supposed to do?” Sif repeated. “My heart and my fate lie along two different paths! How do I choose one and not break myself in the choosing?”
Astrid looked as if her own heart would break. She stroked Sif’s golden hair.
“Oh, my child, my child. I wish I could choose for you, or take your pain onto my shoulders. But I cannot!” She sighed. “All that I can tell you is that I believe that a third path exists. What matters, what’s most important, is that when the time comes, you have the wisdom to see it and the courage to follow it.”
Sif wiped the tears from her face. “Do you really think I’ll have that chance?” she asked.
“If what I believe about the gods and goddesses is true, if what I believe about fate is true, then yes, my dear.” Astrid hugged her daughter closely.
