CurseBreaker

by Taylor Fenner

  “I hope the gods will have mercy on those families so they regain their health,” I say quietly as I look at my worn out boots, unsure what else to say. When Father doesn’t respond I hazard a look into his eyes. He’s watching me stoically. I know that even though he doesn’t show it he is thinking that it could have just as easily been someone from our family that was struck ill and guilt rumbles through me. I could make everything better for our whole family and yet I’m hesitating.

  “Where are you off to this morning?” Father asks and I’m grateful that he hasn’t brought up the choice I must make.

  “I’m going to help out with the barn chores,” I explain as I gesture in that direction.

  “Very well, hurry along,” Father allows as he heads toward his small workshop next to the house. On months he’s not away he tinkers in his workshop making new weapons that will make him and his crew stronger in battle. His skills as a bladesmith are well known in our village and several neighboring ones; everyone knows to come to him with whatever they need.

  Not wasting a minute I enter the barn before anyone else can call me back. The barn is dim and slightly warmer than the air outside and the enclosed space smells of damp hay. A goat wanders to the edge of her pen and nudges my palm looking for attention.

  “Hey, girl,” I crouch down to scratch the goat’s ears, “how are you doing?”

  “She’s fine, I fed her so don’t let her convince you to feed her again,” Axel replies as he steps out of the stall he’s been shoveling out.

  “And here I thought you were famished,” I tease as I rub the goat’s nose. She’s a newborn so we haven’t named her yet.

  “Goats are crafty fiends,” Axel’s lips quirk up into a half smile.

  I return his smile as I walk around him to grab a shovel, “allow me to help.”

  “Don’t mind if you do,” Axel grunts and we each disappear into a stall. I usher the sheep into a small pen with some food then get to work mucking out the stall and replacing the soiled hay with fresh.

  Axel and I work in silence for a while, the only sounds filling the air being that of the animals and our quiet breathing. We fall into a rhythm working side by side. When half the work is done I brush a loose strand of hair out of my eyes and glance out the window. Bjorn and Donar are sparring in the yard. Father insists they keep themselves in top shape so they don't get sloppy on raids after the long cold months off. The fact that it keeps them from sniping at each other when we're cooped up inside is an added bonus.

  "How come you never joined the ranks and followed in Father's footsteps like Bjorn and Donar have?" I turn around and ask Axel as I lean on my shovel.

  Axel shrugs, "It’s not the type of work I was born for. The gods have other plans for me."

  "Don't you ever wish to travel, see more of the world than this little village?" I ask as I think of my own wanderlust.

  "And risk getting killed on some foreign beach or grassy battleground?" Axel raises an eyebrow. "It's all too much of a risk with too little of a reward for me."

  “I suppose you’re right,” I reply, “some prices are just too high.”

  “Ah, and now we’re getting to the heart of things,” Axel replies as he pauses in his work. “You’re thinking of the polar bear’s request.”

  “What do you think of his offer?” I ask. Admittedly, after my father, Axel’s opinion is the one that means the most to me.

  Axel thinks for a minute, “At first I thought the polar bear’s request was outrageous. For him to dangle the prospect of a new, less strained lifestyle in front of us then say it is hinging on your agreeing to go away with him seemed cruel. But I can see both sides of the argument and each side have good points and negative ones. Bjorn and I want what is best for you, as do Mother and Father but they want a better life for all of us as well. Don’t mind what Donar says, he’s looking out for himself as usual.”

  “What do you think I should do?” I ask quietly, both nervous and anxious to hear his input.

  “It is not my decision to make, Hel.” Axel sighs, "Forget what Father and Mother think, what they want, what Donar or Bjorn want. Think about what you want. Don't tell me the girl that consumes other people's adventures through oral and written stories isn't tempted to go. See the world, Hel; or at least more of it than what lays beyond this village."

  I shovel out the goat's pen as I mull over Axel's words. The goat nips at my tattered dress but I barely notice.

  "If you won't do it for yourself then think of Arika," Axel adds, his voice barely above a whisper.

  "What about Arika?" I ask cautiously.

  Axel arches his eyebrow challenging me, "do not play coy, Hel. You're the same as me. You notice everything. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

  I sigh as I consider his point. Without me around and with more money to support the family, Arika would be able to raise her child comfortably.

  "Father and Mother will be furious either way when Arika’s secret is revealed, but at least she won't be fighting for food for her child like she would be if you stay. Things are tight enough with baby Gunner and Donar and Sorena's babe on the way. Arika won’t be able to keep her condition a secret for much longer," Axel points out.

  We finish our chores in silence as I think everything over. By the time we part ways and I head inside to help with lunch for Espen and Leif I know what I have to do.

  I can feel everyone staring at me. Well everyone except Axel, probably. My awareness of their stares prickles over my skin like little bugs crawling over me. I shiver as I look up from my meager dinner just in time to catch Bjorn’s guilty stare before he looks away.

  They’re waiting for my decision. I can practically hear their thoughts blending together and becoming an urgent chant. Make a decision already, they seem to silently urge. They don’t know that I already have, but with all the pressure coming at me from all sides I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep the decision to myself. Patience isn’t something we’re great at in this family. We’re always impatiently waiting for something; the next raid, the growing season, some new excitement to come into our lives and liven things up.

  I keep my head down and someone sighs from the other end of the table. I bet my favorite novel that it is Donar, the jerk. My suspicion is confirmed when I hear a scuffle under the table and Donar mumbles a muffled, “ow.”

  I shove my plate away in frustration and look up into the watchful eyes of my family, “fine, I’ll go,” I announce.

  My announcement is met with a different reaction than I expected. Arika looks both relieved and embarrassed to be so relieved while Axel looks proud of me. I’m sure he knew what my decision would be before even I knew it. Father looks proud as well as Mother’s eyes well up with happy tears. Sitting beside Father, Donar looks smug while Sorena just looks sad. Across the table from them, Bjorn and Elvi exchange a concerned look. On either side of my seat, Britta and Kiersten try to contain their envy. Sitting next to Mother, Leif and Espen continue eating, unconcerned with the conversation.

  “I’m very glad,” Father says as he raises his cup of mead to me, “tonight we will celebrate in honor of your decision.”

  The next morning Arika, Britta, and Kiersten pull me out of bed just as the sun appears over the horizon.

  “Oof, what are you doing?” I ask as I try to cling to the blanket for warmth.

  “You’re leaving and we can’t let you go out into the world looking like that. You’re going to be representing the family,” Britta explains as she pulls me into a standing position so Kiersten can yank my nightgown over my head.

  “What’s wrong with how I look?” I ask. I wrap my arms around myself to stave off the morning chill.

  Kiersten wrinkles her nose in disgust, “you look like you were made for hard labor.”

  Arika clucks her tongue at our two older sisters, “we just wanted to give you a little makeover before you left, that’s all.”

  “Um, thank you,” I reply slowly, “that’
s really nice, but you do know I’m not leaving until Thursday right? That’s five days from now.”

  “Don’t worry, it’ll hold until then,” Britta assures me. “Mother convinced Father to let you help around the house with the mending and the cooking instead of working in the barn.”

  “Be grateful because now I have to muck out the barn every day,” Kiersten narrows her eyes at me, “your polar bear friend better come through with his end of the deal soon because you know how much I hate getting full of animal droppings. It’s only fair; we’re giving him you, after all.”

  Arika glares at Kiersten before turning back to me, “come on, let’s get you into the bath.”

  I finally notice the big metal tub sitting in the corner of the sleeping area I share with Arika. Steam rises off the water invitingly as Arika helps me climb in. The water soothes my sore shoulder muscles as I sink into the tub and close my eyes. I grip the sides of the tub as I hear my sisters moving around behind me.

  “What are we going to do with her hair?” Britta asks. My eyes pop open and I lean backward to look at them nervously. They want to do something to my hair?

  “What about that fancy tonic you bought in the village over the summer?” Arika suggests which makes me relax. “It will make her hair really soft and easy for us to get the comb through.”

  Kiersten grabs one of my red curls doubtfully, “I’m not sure anything will make this mess easy to comb.”

  Britta snorts but says, “I guess it’s worth a try, but I’m only sharing a little bit. That tonic cost me half a day’s wages from mending the Earl's wife's favorite gown. My hands were sore for days afterward.”

  “The Earl’s wife is such a troll,” Kiersten rolls her eyes. “She can’t do anything for herself.”

  “And why should she?” Arika asks, “after all, she is the Earl’s wife.”

  “That doesn’t mean she didn’t start out just the same as us,” Kiersten retorts as she grabs the bottle of hair tonic out of Britta’s hands and begins to roughly work it through my hair.

  “Well when you find husbands you’ll be able to hire seamstresses to mend your gowns too,” I tell my sisters.

  Arika looks down sadly before busying herself with adding some sweet smelling bath salts to the tub, “this will help make your skin really soft.”

  “Don’t act like you’re better than us,” Kiersten snaps at me. “The bear is probably taking you off to be a snack anyway.”

  “Then why are you bothering with any of this?” I ask.

  “Because we’re your sisters and we love you,” Britta replies as she shoots Kiersten a warning look.

  The three of them get to work scrubbing me clean from head to toe. Arika works a comb through my long curls slowly until every tangle is unwound while Britta spreads lavender scented lotion over my skin and Kiersten cleans my fingernails, short and jagged from hours spent doing outside chores.

  When they’re finished with me and I slip a clean dress over my head Britta and Arika guide me to the mirror in Father and Mother’s sleeping quarters. The red haired, blue eyed, ivory skinned goddess staring back at me in the mirror is a stranger. My ample curves are well defined after Arika and Kiersten alter my dress slightly. I touch my face in shock.

  “What do you think?” Britta asks as she pulls a loose strand of hair off my forehead.

  “Is it really me?” I ask. “You’re not playing some kind of trick on me with a magic mirror?”

  “It’s really you,” Kiersten confirms. “You don’t clean up too bad, actually. You’re almost pretty.”

  I don’t even flinch at her words. Everyone in the village whispers and gossips about how otherworldly beautiful our entire family is; I’ve even heard whispers that we are descendants of the gods, which pleases Father. We each carry our beauty in different ways. My brothers take after Father with their blond hair and amber eyes. Bjorn wears his long and maintains a long blond beard which tends to make him look like a ruthless warrior despite his kind heart; while Donar and Axel keep their hair cropped close to their heads and their faces clean shaven. My sisters are copies of my mother, with wavy brown hair and vibrant green eyes. I am the anomaly with red hair and sea blue eyes. Despite looking so different than my sisters, I just carry my beauty in a more natural way, unlike Kiersten and occasionally Britta who are constantly spending their coins on potions and tonics to artificially enhance their beauty. I glance back at the creature in the mirror. Well, this was an unusual occurrence and I guess they thought their tonics were necessary.

  “You might want to patch up a few of your dresses, though, winter is brutal in the woods and most of your dresses are torn,” Britta suggests. “I don’t know where you’ll be living with this polar bear but you don’t want to freeze sleeping out in a cave somewhere.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” I tell her, “I’ll work on it this week.”

  Over the next few days, I clean and mend my dresses. Some of the skirts are so torn apart from getting caught on something or being stepped on I have to rip the skirts apart and piece together the fragments just to make one full skirt. By the time Thursday morning dawns my hands are rough and calloused.

  I wake up just past dawn after a fitful night of sleep. Arika lays sleeping on the pallet as I pack my meager belongings into a crudely sewn together pack. The house around me is silent as I begin to dress. I pull my nightgown off and quickly replace it with a white shift. My patchwork skirt goes over my head next and brushes the floor as I fasten it around my waist tightly. I slip my arms into long sleeved jacket Mother made for me from an animal hide. We couldn’t afford the fancy round objects the English call buttons from the traveling merchants in the village so the jacket secures under my bust with leather cording laced through small circles cut into the material. I won’t need my heavy woolen cloak until later so I set it on the floor beside the fireplace with my pack as I go to the kitchen to begin preparing my last breakfast with my family.

  Mother joins me a few minutes later, “I thought that was you up and moving about.”

  “I couldn’t sleep,” I admit as I go to the door and fill our cooking cauldron with snow to use for boiling water to prepare the breakfast porridge.

  Mother takes the heavy cauldron from my hands and places it on the hook over the fire, “Come, Helga, sit for a minute with me.”

  “What is it, Mother?” I ask as I follow her to the table and sit down beside her.

  “I just want you to know that as proud of you as your father and I are we will really miss you around here, Helga,” Mother says as she takes my hands in hers. “We only want what is best for you and your siblings and in your agreeing to the polar bear’s request you’ll be making things so much easier on all of us. We won’t have to struggle for anything anymore and I know that you will have anything you could ever wish for when you arrive at your new home.”

  “I’m just so nervous,” I say quietly. “What if something goes wrong?”

  “Just know that Odin and the gods watch over you,” Mother runs her hand through my hair soothingly. “The nornir mapped out your destiny at birth, now it is time for you to seize it. Be strong, Hel, and prosper in your new home.”

  “I’ll try, Mother,” I tell her as my eyes fill with unshed tears.

  “Good girl, now there won’t be any tears today,” Mother says as she pulls me in for a quick hug. “We better get breakfast together before your father and brothers wake up. Their stomachs growl like mighty wolves first thing in the morning, so it’s best not to keep them waiting.”

  The day passes by quickly and I find myself pacing up and down in front of the door as darkness begins to descend outside the walls of our cottage. As the full moon rises in the sky I hear three sharp knocks on the front door. The polar bear has returned.

  Everyone in the room freezes and waits as Father goes to let the polar bear in. Once the door opens my siblings pretend to go back to their entertainment for the evening. The polar bear shakes the snow off his coat before ambling in
side. Upon entering the room he does a quick sweep, searching for me with his eyes. When he spots me his eyes brighten and the smirk I thought I saw last time returns.

  “Come here, Helga,” Father waves me over.

  My heart thuds a nervous rhythm against my ribcage as I cross the room.

  “Have you made your decision then lassie?” the polar bear asks me when I take my place beside my father.

  “Yes,” I pause to gather my nerve. “I will go with you.”

  “Good choice,” the polar bear replies, unsurprised. Turning to my father he says, “The riches I have promised you will arrive in the morning.”

  “Thank you,” Father bows his head.

  The polar bear turns to me, “shall we take our leave?”

  I nod wordlessly as Mother comes to give me a farewell hug. She pulls me in and I memorize her familiar scent, like the sweet cakes she makes during times of celebration. She pulls back and dabs her wet eyes with the end of her shawl. Father wraps me in a bear hug next and whispers reassuring words in my ear. Finally, after all of my siblings have come to bid me farewell Mother hands me my pack as I fasten my cloak around my shoulders.

  “I’ve added some warm dresses I’ve been working on to your pack,” Mother whispers in my ear as she presses the pack into my hands. “You’ll need them more than any of your sisters would.”

  “Thank you, Mother,” I whisper as I hug her one last time.

  With one last look at my family, I follow the polar bear out into the night.

  “Are you ready?” the polar bear asks.

  “Yes,” I reply confidently.

  “Good, then get on my back and we’ll be off,” the polar bear instructs.

  I climb atop his wide back and turn around as the polar sets off into the night. My family is standing in the doorway of our little cottage waving goodbye. My father smiles and my mother cries, both hopeful that whatever my life ahead in the bear’s cave holds for me, it will be better than what I was used to.

  “Take care of yourself,” Father’s voice is nearly drowned out by a whistling wind. I manage to wave in response as I gather my cloak tighter around myself. I face toward my unknown future as frozen tears track down my cheeks.