The Viking Maiden Box Set

by Kelly N. Jane

  “Well, you did today. So where is it?”

  He narrowed his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek. “You sure you won’t tell anyone?”

  “No.”

  “No you won’t, or no you aren’t sure?”

  “I won’t tell anyone. Since it wasn’t part of our deal, that’s for free, to show you I’m not so hard to work with.” She nodded to him and gave a fake smile.

  “Humph.”

  Ingrid snorted. “I bet you could have a whole conversation only using that sound.”

  He ignored her and waved his walking stick and free hand around in circles. Words in a language she didn’t understand came out of his mouth in a kind of sing-song, and part of the hillside, just a few feet down in the dale, played tricks with her eyes. She rubbed them, thinking her vision was blurred. Then the grasses glowed and faded in a rhythm, and little flashes of light danced around. Finally, there was a loud pop.

  Ingrid blinked, then blinked again. It wasn’t a house exactly. The ground lifted like a rug, and under it was a small, wooden door, rounded on the top to match the curve of the risen earth. Next to the door was a single, circular window.

  The little man—Ingrid couldn’t think to call him anything else—puffed out his chest, and cocked one of his bushy eyebrows at her. “Beautiful, isn’t it?

  “Amazing. How did you do that?”

  “None of your business. This way.”

  “Humph.” Ingrid smiled as he glared at her for mocking his favorite noise.

  She would need to bend over to squeeze through the small door. I hope it isn’t that short inside, too. She hesitated to follow him until he yelled at her from inside.

  “Are you coming in or what? I don’t mean to invite anyone else in here.”

  Bending at the waist, she took small, deliberate steps as she crossed the threshold. It was so dark, she couldn’t see a thing, even with the door still open. There should have been light coming through the window, but darkness covered her eyes like a cloak. There was a smell of freshly turned soil in the air, but it wasn’t damp or cold, it was homey and comforting.

  “Do you have a torch or a candle or something? I can’t see a thing.”

  “Oh, I forgot about that.”

  A small air current swirled around her, and she guessed that the same motions he’d performed outside were necessary again inside. When another pop sounded seconds later, the room materialized in front of her eyes.

  17

  It was a small, simple room. A round, braided rug in muted greens and browns lay in the center of the floor, and a fireplace nestled along one wall, with a single rocking chair sitting in front of it. A table with one chair rested against the far wall, and behind her, a short bed lined the wall next to the door.

  At least that means there shouldn’t be anyone else sneaking around. “It’s nice,” she said, still mostly bent over. Slipping down to her knees, she sat back on her heels while she continued to look around. “So you live here alone?”

  “Yes. I like it that way.”

  “Do you ever get lonely?”

  “I don’t need to answer your questions.” Walking past her, he reached under the little bed and pulled out a blanket. “Here. Now hand it over.”

  She smirked at him, but dug the gold out of the pocket where she’d stashed it.

  “There you are.” She took the blanket as he took the brooch. “Would you be kind enough to turn around so I can get out of these wet clothes? They need to dry,”

  “What?”

  “I want to change. Turn around.”

  “Change into what?”

  “Discussing anything with you is impossible. I will wrap myself in the blanket while my clothes dry before the fire.”

  “But you will still be human?”

  It was Ingrid’s turn to be confused. “Of course. Why would you ask that?”

  “You said ‘change’. I thought maybe you were a changeling and had tricked me.”

  “No, I’m just a regular, human girl. Now please turn around.”

  Before all the other strange beings she’d met recently, she would have thought his concern odd. Now she understood it more than she’d like. He turned around with a few noises that told her how annoyed he felt about such a request.

  “Thank you, I’m finished.” She laid out her clothes on the hearth the best she could, chuckling at how large her things looked in the cramped space.

  “I’m going to have something to eat,” she told him. “You said you had your own food, right?”

  “Yes, and don’t ask for any.”

  “You are grouchy. I’m not. I wanted to be polite, and not eat in front of you, but you wouldn’t notice good manners, anyway.”

  He scowled at her the way he had outside—like she was planning to steal his secrets. “You turn around, now. I need to do something.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “None of your business. Turn away.”

  She drew in a big breath and let it out slowly as she contemplated her options. “Fine, but I’m trusting you to behave. I will not tolerate any tricks.”

  It was hard to tell under all the facial hair, but she thought he smirked.

  “Understood.”

  What have I gotten myself into? ‘I will not tolerate’ . . . like I could stop him from using magic. What kind of creature uses magic? She nibbled on a biscuit and kept her back to him while she thought about what he might be.

  A slurping sound drew her attention, and she dared a peek over her shoulder. He was sitting at the table with a bowl of soup in front of him. The smell of carrots and potatoes wafted toward her, making her mouth salivate.

  I almost forgot—he owes me a warm drink!

  She turned around and faced him. A little grin raised one corner of her mouth when she saw him hug his bowl a little closer to his body.

  “You still owe me one part of our deal.”

  “No, I don’t. You can stay here and you have your blanket.”

  “Yes, but I’m also owed a warm drink.”

  He glanced at her. “Look away again.”

  “Why? I know you use magic; why not let me see you do it?”

  “You are annoying.” He swished his arm around, and another steaming mug appeared on the table. “Take it, and we’re finished.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ingrid sniffed the liquid, and it smelled delightful. It was a floral tea of some kind, with honey. She took a small sip, and felt the warmth trickle down through her chest and into her middle. A groan escaped despite herself.

  “This is delicious.”

  He nodded, and she caught a quick smile before he resumed eating his soup.

  After a span of silence, Ingrid risked another attempt at conversation. “I’m going to take a guess here; I think you are a dwarf. But I thought dwarves lived in groups, not in cute, little, magical houses like this. Is this house connected somehow to Svartalfheim?”

  He jumped up from his chair, knocking it over, and stared at her, confirming she was right in her guess. “You need to be careful what you say.” He lowered his voice before he continued. “It is not always a good idea to speak every thought that comes into your head.”

  “What’s wrong with what I said?”

  “Like names, some places have magic associated with calling upon them. You would be smart not to name the realm I’m from again.”

  “Why do you live alone?”

  “Why do you ask so many questions that are none of your business?”

  “Human.” She pointed a finger at herself.

  “Humph.” As soon it came out, he looked over at Ingrid, and a small chuckle snorted from his nose. He tried to control it but couldn’t, and before either of them realized it, they were both laughing.

  “Thank you, I needed that,” she told him.

  It felt good to release some of the tension that had been building up inside of her. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine she would someday have tea and laugh with a dwar
f. After the last couple of weeks, however, it seemed almost normal.

  “I was kicked out,” he answered her initial query. “I never fit in with my kin, and I made some choices that were deemed unworthy of the realm. So I was sent here.”

  “I’m sorry. It must get lonely to live all by yourself.”

  “Not really. I like the peace and quiet. Do you have a big family?”

  “No, just my parents and my brother.”

  A twinge of guilt stabbed through her at the mention of Hagen. She looked at the warm fire, and tightened the blanket around her shoulders.

  “Well, I had plenty more than that. There’s never a place to sit by yourself or hear yourself think. Someone’s always pushing or shoving, and it’s a fight to get enough to eat at every meal. I like it here.”

  “You still have your magic, so that’s nice, right? Wait. I thought dwarves couldn’t be out in the daytime?”

  “That’s true. As part of my banishment, most of my magic left me, but there’s a different reason why I’m safe in the sunshine and I don’t want to talk about it.” Snorting, he looked off into the distance, lost in a memory.

  Whatever kept him from turning to stone, she figured had to be a benefit, and didn’t worry more about it. “You still have enough magic to hide your house, though. Can you do anything else?”

  “Not really, just tricks mostly.”

  Ingrid nodded. “Having magic would be helpful.”

  “Why?”

  “Have you noticed anything strange lately? Like dragons returning, for example?”

  “I heard one flapping its wings earlier today. What has brought them back?”

  “It’s a long story, but it has to do with a failing protection spell that Odin and Freya placed on Midgard.”

  “The one that can only be strengthened when the human healer is born?”

  “You know about that?”

  “Everyone from the other realms knows about it. We were all here when it was put into place. Dwarves were stuck in their realm, unable to do business with Asgard for a long time. Then a deal was made. No one creates beautiful works of art like a dwarf, you see, and the gods like their beautiful things. If the spell is failing, that means the healer has been born, or will be soon. Don’t worry—it will be resolved.”

  “Just watch out for fire-breathing reptiles and slimy trolls and men cloaked in wolf forms until then, right?”

  “You’ve seen all of that?”

  “And more.”

  The dwarf stared at her. He didn’t move for so long, she thought maybe he’d been wrong about turning to stone—except he still looked alive, and wasn’t gray.

  “My name is Plintze.”

  Ingrid gasped and threw her hands over her mouth. “Why did you tell me that?” she asked from behind her fingers.

  “Because you are the healer. You are meant for great things, and will not misuse the power you hold.”

  Ingrid’s shoulders sagged as she let his words sink in.

  For as long as she could remember, she’d proclaimed to all who would listen that she would do great things and that there would be stories told of her; a shieldmaiden worthy of sagas that would be told to future generations, stories about how she stormed the battlefield. Using feline-style grace, she would twist and turn, leaving a wake of defeated bodies in the mud as she avoided injury. Then she would stand in the center, shrieking victory, her hair blowing in the wind.

  All the exhaustion of the day flooded her, and the weight of responsibility pressed in. The backs of her eyes stung and, as hard as she fought it, they filled with tears. Blinking, she took deep breaths until she’d reabsorbed them, and her heart rate slowed.

  “I don’t know how or why I have been born for this. I haven’t wanted to believe that it is truly my fate, but I know it must be.” Ingrid sighed as Plintze nodded his agreement. “I’m Ingrid. It’s nice to meet you, Plintze.” She smiled a genuine smile and held out her hand.

  Plintze shook it with reverence, his eyes soft and crinkled as he smiled.

  “I like your smile. It makes me happy,” she said.

  He peered at her sideways. “Humph.”

  Ingrid laughed. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Your friendship. I haven’t had a good experience when making new acquaintances lately. I’m glad I met you.”

  “You need to be careful. There are many who will not like that you have arrived, and will seek to stop you from your destiny. You shouldn’t have risked coming here with me. If I were any other dwarf, you’d be in a cage, waiting for the highest bidder right now.”

  A feeling of dread skittered down her spine; she knew all too well he was right.

  “I do have a habit of trusting when I shouldn’t, but I was right about you.” Hesitating, she bit her lip, trying to decide if she should ask him the question that had been bothering her. “Plintze, do you know anything about the dark elves?”

  His bushy eyebrows drew together, covering his eyes. “Stay away; that’s the best thing I can tell you about them. Why do you ask?”

  “I know they are called dark because of the magic they practice, but do you think if they use their abilities to restore the Vanir to be of equal position with the Æsir, that it would be a good thing for all the realms?”

  “No. Dark magic never has a good purpose, and only someone trying to deceive you would say so. The dark elves wouldn’t want to make Vanaheim equal to Asgard; they would want to make it more powerful. To destroy Asgard would be to destroy all the realms. The Vanir accepted their fate long ago, and are a peaceful race. Who have you been talking to?”

  “I can’t say, or I’m not sure if I should right now. The power of a name, and all that. I’m confused though, because the one who told me how I fit into all this madness is the one who told me the dark elves were trying to help. She said that if the spell is bound for eternity, it would create such an imbalance in magic that that would destroy all the realms.”

  Plintze inhaled a deep breath. “The Æsir gods are a temperamental bunch. They can be selfish, greedy, and pompous, but they love Midgard. They would do nothing to hurt the humans. The dark elf leader is powerful, and not to be trusted; he is to be feared. If he believes that you will work on his side, he will keep you safe, but most likely lock you away. If he doesn’t get your help, he will destroy you.”

  Ingrid stared into the teacup resting in her lap. “My friend saw a group of elves talking around a campfire the other night. They said they were looking for someone to take to their leader. They were looking for me, weren’t they?”

  “Probably. I guarantee that if the dark elves know who you are, they won’t stop until they find you, and everyone around you will be in danger.”

  “That means I’ve put you in danger now, too. I’m sorry.”

  “Ach, don’t worry about me. My house is glamoured, and no one knows I’m here.” Plintze paced between the fireplace and the table, making growling noises and muttering under his breath.

  Wishing he wouldn’t have taken me in, I’m sure.

  “I don’t like it,” he blasted out, surprising Ingrid into sitting tall, “but if you want to, you can stay here to hide. No one will find you if you stay in the house.” He stood in front of Ingrid with his hands on his hips, and a scowl creasing his forehead.

  Ingrid relaxed and settled back onto her heels again as warmth crept into her heart. Plintze wasn’t so gruff after all.

  “Thank you for that offer. I know it would be hard for you to give up your peace and quiet for me, and I appreciate it with all my heart. But I have to go home and warn my family. My friends are carrying my brother home right now, and I could not live with myself if any harm came to them because of me.”

  “That’s your choice, then.”

  He looked toward the fire, and then at his dishes still on the table. He walked over and put his chair upright. Ingrid watched as his mustache twitched, and she tilted her head to the side as a slow smile edged across her
face.

  “If I wasn’t here, what would you do for the rest of the evening?” She had the distinct impression she was keeping him from something, but she couldn’t figure out what.

  “Nothing. None of your business.” He snatched the dishes off the table, set them in the sink, and then came over and grabbed the teacup from her hands. “Check your clothes.” The command was gruff, but if she didn’t know better, she’d guess he was nervous—like he didn’t know what to do with her now.

  Rising to her knees, she scooted over to the hearth. Her clothes weren’t completely dry, but enough so that she could get dressed, which would make her feel more comfortable, anyway. She kept having to adjust the blanket to stay covered.

  Guess this is one time I should be happy I’m short.

  She looked toward the sink, where Plintze had his back turned to her. “Stay turned around, and I’ll get dressed.”

  “Humph.”

  Ingrid giggled under her breath, and changed as quickly as she could. Wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, she stayed next to the fire. On the mantel, a box caught her eye, and she rose to her feet, keeping her knees bent so she could take a closer look.

  “Don’t touch that!” Plintze yelled, giving her a start.

  “I wasn’t going to, I just wanted to look at it. Did you carve it?”

  Pushing her to the side, he pulled the box down and sat with it on his lap in the rocker. Ingrid sat on the far edge of the hearth, putting enough space between them to help him relax.

  “I made it as a boy, a place for my mother to keep her needles.”

  “How kind of you. I’m sure she loved it.”

  Ingrid could see it better in the firelight. The top had snow-capped mountains, and a valley with a river running through it. Each side looked to have a different scene. She could see two: one had a tree with falling leaves and a many-pointed buck standing on a hillside, and the other showed a lake with a large eagle, talons out, ready to grab a fish out of the lake.

  “Do the sides represent the seasons? They are so detailed.”

  Plintze nodded, but didn’t look at her, keeping his eyes trained on the dancing flames of the fire. The orange glow flickered in his dark eyes, and he looked lost in thought.