Sigyn's Song

by Meg Trotter

  The wind whipped stray strands of hair into her face as she wound down the path toward the beach. She spotted Luka with his feet just out of reach of the surf, taking swigs of his drink. Maera stopped several paces behind him, hugging herself against the cold. He jumped when he noticed her, sloshing his drink over his hand.

  “Gods,” he muttered, switching the mug to the other hand and shaking the droplets from his free one. “What are you doing out here? Don’t you have a man to catch?”

  What are you doing out here? she countered, cocking her head at him. Don’t you like stories?

  Luka snorted and turned back toward the water. “Not particularly fond of that one, no,” he muttered into his cup. Another gust of wind whipped up around them, making Maera shiver again. Tired of standing on aching legs, Maera sank down into the sand and made herself comfortable there.

  After it became clear that Luka was not going to say more, Maera broke the silence by answering his previous question. All the gods at Freydis’ house tonight were old. Not ideal targets. I guess one of them could work if I have no other choice, but I’d prefer to hold off for someone younger. She pulled out piece of a shell from under her thigh with a wince and threw it toward the sea, where it made a faint splash.

  Freydis is currently the highest ranked in the community, she continued. At dinner, everyone who sat close to her was also likely high ranked or high favored. So I’ll be looking for a young relative of one of the ones who sat close to Freydis.

  Luka looked back over his shoulder at her as he took another swig from his mug. “You’re a quick study on social hierarchies though, I’ll give you that.”

  She shrugged. Where I come from, you have to be able to read a situation quickly in order to be able to react quickly. Too slow, and you’re dead. She paused as a memory of the shark’s teeth sinking into her midsection briefly flashed in her mind’s eye. Maera shook her head to clear it and focused back on Luka, who was watching her with increasing interest.

  “Hmm.” He took another drink. His eyes had a slightly glazed look to them now. “Maybe you know how to play the game after all. This may turn out even more entertaining than I had hoped.”

  Maera smirked.

  Suddenly there came a crack so loud that it sounded like the whole expanse above her had split in two. Maera squeaked and threw herself flat against the ground. A vibration followed that rattled deep inside her chest. Once the sound faded, Maera pulled herself out of the sand long enough to look over at Luka to gage his reaction.

  He merely grimaced up at the sky. “Storm’s on the way in,” he said.

  Before Maera could ask questions, another rumble shook the air and water droplets hit her face, sparsely at first, then with increasing intensity. It drenched Maera as she struggled to her hands and knees and then attempted to get to her feet, though unsuccessfully.

  When the air rumbled again, her first instinct was to crawl for shelter. However with the driving rain, the gusts of wind, and the rumble of thunder, also came an overwhelming energy in the air. Maera had never felt anything like it. It was both impressive and terrifying — somewhat like looking into the mouth of a whale. You knew it wasn’t particularly interested in making you a meal, but it could swallow you whole on accident all the same.

  Light streaked across the sky, highlighting a large shadow out on the horizon. It was a creature like the one she’d seen back when she’s first crossed through the boundary. No, not a creature, Luka’s magic corrected her. A ship. Though Maera knew nothing about ships, she saw the way it rode the waves and wondered how anyone inside was staying put. Is it the other gods? she asked.

  Luka shrugged. “Maybe.”

  Should we tell somebody? The ship bobbed closer, but with every wave it looked in greater danger of tipping. From behind Maera and Luka came a shout. They both turned to see a young god and goddess back up the path who now noticed the ship. They were pointing and yelling something Maera couldn’t make out in the increasing volume of the rain. She shivered from her seat on the ground and turned again to look out. The ship, getting slowly closer to shore, bobbed on a swelling wave. The water was breaking hard on the beach now. More gods appeared on the path, drawn out by the shouts of the others.

  Luka finally set down his mug and crossed over to Maera to offer her a hand up. She took it and let him pull her to her feet. However he was so unsteady on his, that it took two attempts. When Maera turned her attention back out to the water, she saw the ship lurch to one side. It hovered there an impossibly long moment before it rolled over, flinging the figures on board into the sea.

  Gods and goddesses from the village crowded the shore now, shouting and pointing frantically. The ship bobbed upside down like a wounded whale. It took a long moment for the heads of the gods to start popping back through the boundary and start swimming for shore.

  The gods from the village waded out into the water as the others approached, offering a hand to help pull them to land. One by one the sea gods flung themselves onto the shore, breathing hard and spitting up water. Families cried in relief as they recognized each other. Freydis embraced a tall older man who limped out of the water. Her father, no doubt.

  Maera looked back out to sea and noticed another god flailing in the darkness. He seemed to be having trouble. She glanced around, but no one else had noticed him. Without the gods’ language, she couldn’t shout for help. With only a moment’s hesitation, she stumbled out toward the water. Luka yelled something at her, though she ignored this and plunged herself into the sea.

  At first she stumbled and sputtered in the rolling waves, but once out far enough, she took a breath and dipped under them. Under the surface, the sea was calmer, but swimming without a fin was slow and clumsy. Maera couldn’t figure out how to move her legs for several moments. How in the world had those other gods made it to shore without fins?

  Maera floundered in waves, breaking to the surface to gasp for air. Her eyes were next to useless in the dark waters, and the salt made them sting. Her lack of gills slowed her progress down even more. Her shoes filled with water, making her legs clumsy from the weight.

  However some instinct kicked in and she got herself afloat, though not gracefully. She kicked her shoes off and paddled toward the capsized ship. She reached the struggling god just as he sunk below a wave. She dove, snatched at the back of his shirt and hauled him back to the surface. It took some adjusting of his weight before she could figure out how to keep his head above the surface without being pulled down herself.

  She hadn’t managed to pull him toward shore very far before she found herself struggling. Her legs throbbed with increasing intensity. The water was sloshing into her nose and mouth, choking her. Just as she worried she was going to go under with the god she’d rescued, a hand grasped the back of her clothing and yanked her up.

  Maera sputtered and blinked the water out of her eyes to see Luka hauling her back toward shore. As soon as they got inland enough for Maera’s feet to touch the sand, Luka released her and turned to help her drag the now unconscious god ashore.

  Maera legs screamed with pain and she stumbled, dropping the god face-first into the sand. She grimaced and knelt down, flipping him over and cradling his head in her lap while she brushed the wet sand from his face.

  Luka snorted. “Great job. Rescue the guy only to kill him with head injury.”

  Several of the other gods and goddesses noticed her struggle and hurried over to help. They turned him on his side and clapped at his back. He retched water over her knees and gasped for air. His eyes flew open, and he stared at her in shock for a heartbeat before his eyes rolled up into his head and he went limp again. Several of the older gods swarmed them and made a fuss about lifting him from her grasp. As they pulled him away, Maera caught a fleeting glance of a dark mark on the unconscious god’s arm. It was in the form of some sort of twisting creature, surrounded by strokes from the god’s language.

  As the villagers trickled away to tend to the other waterlogged
gods, Luka picked up his drink from where he’d nestled it in the sand and took another swig. He handed it to Maera. She accepted it with shaky hands.

  “Congratulations, Little Fish,” he said as she took a pull of the drink and let its contents warm her belly and calm her nerves. “I believe you just rescued someone important.”

  Maera woke in her bed when the world turned bright again. She slid out of the bed, casting a glance at Luka’s nook that stood empty except for a pile of clothes on the floor beside it. Maera had changed into a dry set of clothes the night before too, which were now rumpled from sleep. They looked good enough, she supposed. She wobbled toward the door and this time made it up the steps while remaining upright, though just barely.

  A low murmur of voices drew her attention, and she turned toward Freydis’ house. She spotted Luka, female again, sitting in a circle of goddesses, chatting around a low-burning fire. Maera took the only empty seat — a space beside Luka on the low bench up against Freydis’ house. The witch didn’t look up from her work. She had a small block of wood in one hand and her knife in the other, and seemed to be preoccupied with scraping the blade along it, slowly shaving off bits and pieces one stroke at a time. “Thought you’d finally grace us with your presence today, eh?” she said.

  Maera ignored this, instead turning her attention to the other goddesses and doing a quick analysis. Other than Luka, there were three, all about the same age — young, of child-bearing age, probably. One actually was pregnant, Maera noticed, though the goddess was wearing loose-fitting clothing and making some attempt to hide the growing swell of her stomach with a folded pile of cloth in her lap. A pile of cloth that she was creating herself by deftly knotting strands of something together, Maera noticed.

  One of the others was occupied with the same work, while the third one was carving some of the sharp pieces of the gods’ language onto bits of palm-sized stones. The pregnant goddess looked over at Luka, who was frowning in concentration at her creation. She laughed. “What are you making over there? You look so serious about it.”

  Luka blew on the little wooden block. Pieces of it scattered into the dirt, revealing a palm-sized carving of a long-legged creature. The goddesses all let out sounds of appreciation. Maera held out her hand, and to her mild surprise, Luka dropped the figure into it without question. Maera brought it close to her face for better inspection. It had a narrow head on a long neck that thickened out at its chest and a large, yet sleek abdomen that ended in a sloping tail. It rather looked like a seahorse with its tail straightened and the addition of legs, Maera thought. And Luka’s magic provided confirmation in the word that popped into her consciousness — horse.

  The pregnant goddess laughed a little. “Has rather too many legs, don’t you think?”

  Luka shrugged. “It’s a really fast horse.”

  The rest of the goddesses tittered and turned back to their work. Maera turned the figure over in her hand, admiring it and trying to imagine how it had been done. She ran her thumb down one of the eight legs, marveling at the smoothness of it. She held it back out to Luka and dropped it back into his hand. Beautiful, she clicked softly. I’m impressed.

  When the goddess nearest her gave her a strange look after hearing the sound, Maera pretended to cough and patted her throat with a forlorn look. When this seemed to satisfy the goddess’s curiosity, Maera chanced a glance over at Luka. She’d expected the witch to be smirking at her, but Luka was running her thumb over the head of the carved horse with a pensive look on her face.

  Maera cleared her throat and attempted the god’s speech. “Teach?” she asked, pointing at herself. The word felt clumsy on her tongue, but Luka seemed to understand. The witch looked over at her a silent moment, as if waiting for Maera to add some sarcastic comment, however when she didn’t, Luka set down the horse carving and picked up a new chunk of wood from near their feet.

  Luka handed this to Maera, and then the knife. The knife was the same one the witch had used under the sea, but now in the light of day its details shone. It reminded Maera of a swordfish — all silver and sleek lines. Along the handle was carved an intricate pattern of twisting knots. Maera thought she saw some of the god’s language mixed in, but was distracted by Luka reaching over and adjusting her grip on the blade.

  “Hold it like this,” Luka instructed. “It’s very sharp, so keep it away from your fingers. Now you just pull it along the surface of the wood here, see?” The witch put her hand over Maera’s and guided the knife away from her body. The stroke shaved off a small bit of wood.

  Maera nodded and the witch released her hand. The technique seemed easy enough. However, when she remembered the little intricate figure that Luka had made, she stared at this block of wood in a bit of paralysis. Where to even start? Luka seemed to sense this and prompted, “What do you want to make? Start off with something simple.”

  Maera thought about this, turning the rough piece of wood in her hand. Finally she smiled and looked up at Luka. “Shark.”

  The corners of the witch’s mouth twitched a bit. “Well, picture a shark in your mind. The curve of its back, the slope of its head — preferably before you’ve punched it in.”

  Maera grinned. She focused on the piece of wood again and finally saw how to start. She touched the blade to the wood and slowly, methodically, scraped pieces of wood away. Everyone fell into a comfortable silence for a while until a fourth goddess joined the group, looking tired. As soon as she appeared, one of the others jumped up from her spot and offered it to her. “How are they?” asked the pregnant goddesses as this new goddess sat down.

  She sighed. “Waterlogged and exhausted, but nothing rest and prayer won’t fix, I believe. Some of them are banged up a bit, but most are talking with their families. I bandaged them up and gave them some herbs to help them sleep.”

  “And is it true? Prince Erik is with them?” asked another.

  This piqued Maera’s interest. She glanced up at the healer in between strokes with her knife. The healer nodded. “They picked him and a few others up in Kaupangen. He’d been in a bit of a confrontation with some of Hakon’s supporters and lost some of his men. He needed a ride to the next town over, and Chief Orm offered to take him. Odin must still think highly of him if he’s saved him from an enemy attack and the storm’s wrath.”

  “He’s all right, then?” asked yet another.

  “Oh yes,” the healer said with a smile. “Despite the head injury and the near drowning, he’s been quite charming.” Her eyes flicked to Maera. “He keeps going on about the beautiful Valkyrie that pulled him from the sea and saved his life.”

  Maera’s heart jumped, as did the edge of her blade. She hissed as it nicked her finger and drew a spot of blood. She put it in her mouth until the throb of pain dulled and then turned to the healer. “Go?” she croaked out, pointing to herself. “See?” The second word was clearer.

  The healer hesitated, then shrugged. “I don’t see why not. He’s been asking for you, after all. Though I just gave him a heavy dose of sedative. He won’t be awake much longer.”

  Maera stood so fast that her head swam and she had to reach out to steady herself on the wall of the longhouse behind her. The block of wood tumbled to the ground at her feet, forgotten. Once her dizziness left her, she handed the knife back to Luka.

  She gave a little nod to the goddesses watching her and made her way around to the entrance of the longhouse. She stepped inside the enclosure. Along the walls, some of the beds were full now. The gods from the wrecked ship dozed while their families fussed about them, making sure they were comfortable. She walked the edges of the room, peering down at each god with increasing annoyance when she could not find the right one. However when she passed by the high seat where Freydis had sat the previous night, she found a passage behind it that opened into a small private quarters. A perfect place to hide a prince.

  He lay sprawled out on a platform piled high with furs. Maera watched him breathe in silence. He was handsome and y
oung, she could see that now in the light of day. His strong jaw was covered with a short layer of blond hair. More blond hair covered his head and fell attractively across his forehead and into his eyes. The outline of his strong, broad body was clear even under all the blankets. Plus he was a prince. One of the highest ranks you could be, if social orders worked anything like they did under the sea. This was the one, Maera decided. She’d claim this one. He was exactly what she needed.

  As if sensing her decision, Erik’s eyes fluttered open. They were green, though a darker green than Luka’s. He stared at her in reverence, as if she were a dream. Maera took advantage of his muddled consciousness and slipped fully into the room on silent feet.

  As she neared, he croaked, “It’s you.”

  She smiled softly and sank down onto the edge of his bed. Whatever medicine the healer had given him was pulling him back down into unconsciousness. He raised his hand to her face, stroking her cheek once before his arm grew too heavy and he let it fall back down at his side.

  “I thought you were a dream,” he muttered thickly. His eyes kept taking longer to open after every blink, and finally he let them stay closed. “Who are you?” he whispered.

  She leaned down close to his ear and whispered back, like a breeze tickling his skin. “Yours.” She let her lips brush his cheek in a brief kiss. When she pulled back, he had a small smile on his own lips as he sank back down into sleep. Maera smiled as well.

  This was going to be too easy.

  Chapter 8

  Maera slipped out of the room and walked back through the longhouse, past the curious glances of the gods and goddesses inside. She hurried out of the door with a smug smile on her lips — straight into Freydis. Maera squeaked in surprise and took a few steps back. The dark-haired goddess glowered down at her.