22
“Everything is so cluttered and jumbled together. It’s not what I expected.” Ingrid rubbed her nose and tried to take in all the sights as she scrunched her face. Eir had strolled to the other side of the room and asked Ingrid to assess the room.
“This is your first lesson. How do you think the room should look?”
“Clean and orderly, with space to work. This is like trying to weave cloth from tangled yarn.”
“Then close your eyes and picture how it should look. Instruct yourself to see the room as it should be, believe it will be so, and then open your eyes again.”
Ingrid did as she was told. She pictured the books put away on the shelves, jars and boxes lined up and stored properly, the tables dusted and free of clutter. Once she had in her mind’s eye how everything should look, she opened her eyes.
As expected, everything still looked the same as before, only this time she was even more bothered by it since she’d been able to picture it cleaned.
“What do you see now?” Eir asked.
“What do you mean? It’s still the same as before.” Ingrid reached up to fiddle with her bead and realized she’d taken it off sometime in the night as she lay next to Jorg. She rolled her lip between her teeth, afraid to say anything and afraid to not to. What if she couldn’t clear the room because she didn’t have her necklace?
“Well, when you can open your Sight to the room as it should be, come and fetch me. I will be in the other room reading.”
Eir walked past her and left the room. Ingrid could hear her humming to herself as she hung a kettle over the fire and rustled around.
What am I supposed to do?
Eir poked her head back into the workroom. “Also, you must not pick up anything in this room without my permission or help—is that clear?”
“How am I supposed to put things away, so I can see it clean?”
“That is what you need to find out.” And with that, she left again.
Ingrid let a small sigh escape under her breath and closed her eyes again. This is madness. Once again, she pictured the room in her mind, seeing all the clutter and trying to visualize where it would all go if it were put away. There’s not even enough space for everything.
Blowing a wayward strand of hair away from her face, she slumped down onto a stool and let her arms hang between her knees as she looked around. She fingered a couple of jars that were close to her, not breaking the rule by picking them up. Eir hadn’t said not to touch anything, after all.
With a careless wave of her hands, as if she were shooing away an animal, she giggled and commanded, “Be gone. Put yourself away.” To her amazement, however, the jars she had touched rattled on the table then settled back the way they were.
Ingrid jumped to her feet and stared at the wooden surface and its contents, her stomach a flurry of knots and butterflies. With her pulse pounding through her ears, she closed her eyes and took several breaths to steady herself and then raised her arms. She was immediately aware of the pull of her coiled energy.
Starting at the back of the room, farthest from where she stood, she pictured the various items lifting and floating to their spots. Excitement puffed inside of her chest, and she continued to watch as more jars, boxes, books, pots, and bowls found their way to niches on the shelves and in cabinets.
This is so much fun!
When the last book slid into its place, and nothing except broken petals, leaves, and dust remained, Ingrid dropped her aching arms and opened her eyes.
“What?”
Her mouth dropped open as she gasped and nearly came to tears. Everything she’d seen in her mind was for naught. The room looked exactly as it did before when it lay in chaos. In reality, nothing had changed. She crumpled onto the stool again and buried her face into her hands.
“I knew it couldn’t be true. I don’t have power to do that kind of thing. My power heals living beings, and it doesn’t even do that right.”
Exhaustion settled onto her shoulders like a scratchy wool blanket. She could fall asleep right where she was and not wake up for days. How am I going to learn in time to stop Jarrick?
“You don’t seem as happy as you were a while ago. Why not?” Eir asked from the doorway behind her.
“See for yourself, I thought I was getting it done and nothing happened for real,” Ingrid said, without looking up.
“It’s late, you must be exhausted. Come get something to eat, and you can try again later.”
“What good will that do? Do you want me to clean it by hand?”
“Self-pity is pointless and unseemly. Come eat and then rest. We’ll work together tomorrow, and maybe you’ll figure out what you overlooked today.”
Ingrid slid off the stool and moped out to the other room, following Eir. “There’s not much time left. How will I make it back to save my family?” She accepted an offered bowl of soup and bread, then sat on a chair that wasn’t in the room the last time she’d been there.
Her tired limbs were like fallen logs and her feet felt rooted to the floor. A quick peek at them reassured her that they had not, in fact, become part of the room. She could have sworn the mantle quivered as if laughing at her.
Eir bent over a flat pan which sat on a rack over the fire and turned slabs of ham. Another lidded pot nestled into a pile of coals.
“I’ll explain a few things while you eat.” Eir launched right into a story, and Ingrid perked up, listening with eagerness. It had been too long since she’d been home to hear her father tell sagas around the fire after meals.
“Freya married a god named Odr, and they bore two children together. You’ve met the younger daughter, Hnossa, and your mother met Gersemi when she was about your age.”
Ingrid smiled and nodded, her mouth too full of bread filled with a berry she’d never seen nor tasted before. It was so light and fluffy it practically melted in her mouth.
“At some point, Odr left. No one knows why—” Eir, rolled her eyes and lowered her voice “—they do, but no one dares to cross that woman.” She shrugged. “He didn’t say why or if he’d be back. He was just gone. Freya didn’t believe he would leave her and suspected foul play. Because no one would leave Freya.”
Again, Eir flicked her eyebrows up and shook her head. Ingrid tried to muffle a laugh that came out like a little snort and listened with a grin while she ate.
“To this day, Freya leaves Asgard for long stretches of time and searches the realms for Odr. The entire time she’s gone, she cries and cries as she calls for him. I’ve lost track of when she was on Midgard last, but when she’s there, if her tears fall in water, they become amber.”
“That’s so sad. She really cries the whole time? And she has never gotten over his loss?” Ingrid stared at Eir with heavy lines furrowed on her brow. A pain squeezed her heart as an image of Jorg flashed in her mind. The bread she enjoyed dangled precariously between her fingers, forgotten.
“I’m glad you like that bread. It is made in Valaskialf only for Odin, but I convinced the cook that he only feeds it to those two wolves of his anyway, so she gave the recipe to me as long as I only make it here and not in Fensalir where Frigg would find out.”
Setting the sweet bread onto her plate, Ingrid gave a sheepish grin, afraid to waste even a crumb. Eir spoke of Odin and Asgard as if they were as familiar as the sky or the grass, and Ingrid shook her head at the thought of such a thing.
“My bead started as one of Freya’s tears?” She brought the conversation back to her amber necklace, and heat flushed up her neck from the thought of having left it behind.
“Yes. Since the amber holds Freya’s essence, I chose it as a talisman for the healer. You do not gain your powers from the bead—it answers to the power already within you.”
“Because . . . I’m . . . from . . . Freya.” Ingrid sat stunned, staring into the air. It’s what the völva meant by her message. It made sense, and she’d have known it all along if she’d let herself think it through. “That m
ust be why my eyes get brighter as well.”
“Yes, dear. What you have experienced is the power of Freya that flows within your veins, and the amber has reacted to it. You are the source, and now that you are here, you need to learn to harness it completely. The bead is not necessary for you to train. It was only a guide. Later, it will have more importance, but for now, it is not essential.”
As expected, the workroom looked exactly the same when they returned the next morning. Ingrid shuffled her feet as she entered. Even learning the amber bead was not the source of her powers, thus not the reason for her failure, didn’t help her confidence.
“I don’t understand how you want me to put everything away without my hands. I thought I had done it yesterday only to open my eyes and see it like this again,” Ingrid said, trying unsuccessfully to cover the whine in her voice.
“When you were putting things away, were you focused on each item and the importance that it holds, or were you so enticed by the concept of moving objects that you only enjoyed the sensation?”
Ingrid shifted her weight and rubbed the top of one foot with the other while she rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. “It felt like a game,” she said in a small voice.
“Every item in this room holds significance to the healing arts. Are you familiar with the word alchemy?”
Narrowing her eyes, Ingrid gave it some thought and finally shook her head in denial.
“It is how all the ingredients come together in perfect harmony to heal the body and soul. Within that is the belief that all living things are connected, and when one part is damaged, all parts suffer. It is perhaps the most serious of all concepts on any realm. I suggest that you try again today. Let the importance of every individual item flow through you as you touch it and see if that does not make a difference in your efforts.”
After Eir left her alone, Ingrid once again took her seat on the stool nearest the door, letting her eyes roam over the myriad of objects scattered about.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel everything in here. Nothing is alive.
Once again, she calmed her breathing before she focused on the first object. It was a jar that held a lotion, sitting on the edge of the farthest table. At first, she only stared at it, noting its ale-colored glass, the bright blue ribbon tied around the neck, and the light brown stopper stuffed into the top.
The slightest hint of a smell blew across a nonexistent breeze and burned her nose with the powerful odor of mint. Ingrid pictured the bottle moving to a spot on a shelf where it would be far from the edge. The jar slid into position in the exact spot she chose.
A breath of relief left her lungs, and she focused on the next item, an open book laying precariously on a box. Again, she noted the yellowed pages of vellum, the worn edges, the leather binding, and loose stitching.
Then once more, like a tendril reaching out to her, a wave of musty air, acids, and a hint of vanilla tickled her senses. With as much care as she could, she thought of the book closing and then sliding into place next to others on a high shelf.
One by one, item after item, she took notice of small details and found a spot where the piece in question would be placed in safety. Without concern for time or thoughts of anything else, Ingrid continued until a soft voice entered her mind and begged her to listen.
“It is time to stop now. Everything will wait for you to have something to eat.”
Ingrid’s breath suddenly felt labored and her body weak as she lost her concentration. If not for a pair of hands that caught her, she would have fallen to the floor. A face came into focus, and she looked up at Eir in a state of confusion. “What happened?”
“You have done well. Now you must nourish your body and take a rest.”
After some soup and a foggy memory of crawling into bed, Ingrid awoke the next morning refreshed and invigorated. She bounced into the main room to find Eir again making breakfast.
“Did anything that I put away yesterday stay? I don’t remember.”
“Eat first. After that, you can go back and check your progress,” Eir said.
Ingrid moaned and rolled her eyes but took the offered trencher of roasted meat and bread. “This is delicious, thank you so much. Is all of this food from Asgard?”
“Of course. That’s where we are.”
Who knew I could miss Selby’s continuous chatter so much?
“Many who reflect and pay attention to the details of the world around them need not fill the air with careless words. It is not a flaw, but a gift of observance that few understand,” Eir said.
Ingrid stopped chewing and stared. “Did you hear me?”
“Your thoughts are open and easily heard by those with the skills to hear.”
“Jorg does that, but he explained it was because he is half-elf. Can anyone of another realm hear like that?”
“Not everyone. Most, regardless of what realm they are from, concern themselves more with their own thoughts, and they don’t take time to listen to others, whether they are speaking internally or out loud. Listening with intention can be illuminating.”
“I’ll remember that. Is there a way I can block my thoughts from others? What if Jarrick can hear me?”
“We will work on that before you leave.”
Ingrid then tried to keep her mind from anything but the buttery bread and meat that tasted of exotic spices.
As they made their way to the workroom, Ingrid rubbed her moist palms on the sides of her thighs and took hesitant steps. She realized how much it meant to her that the things she’d put away still sat where she’d placed them. It squeezed her heart to think that they would be treated so carelessly again.
She stopped within two steps of the door and braced herself for disappointment. With a deep breath, she hurried through the threshold to stand in awe. The room wasn’t perfect yet, but she’d made significant progress the day before, and it had lasted.
“I did it,” she whispered and sighed a satisfied breath.
“You paid attention and learned what each jar, bottle, or box contained, what each book teaches, and placed them in spots that made sense. Belief in one’s abilities doesn’t come from raw power, it comes from how to think of what’s best for others and to do that, regardless of self-interest. It’s the most powerful lesson you can learn.”
“Can I finish?” Ingrid’s voice felt raw, and her heart pounded in anticipation.
“Yes. It shouldn’t take you as long today now that you can identify what’s important.”
Ingrid looked around at the remaining items strewn about. It was still a good number of books, boxes, and glassware, but she understood it now. She knew the best places to store everything. She was eager to begin and sure she could finish faster.
“When can . . .” She looked to where Eir had been standing and found she was alone in the room. “I can start now, I guess.” She shook her head and set her sights on a wooden box.
Eir returned when Ingrid had finished. “Well done. We can move on to more difficult tasks now.”
“How much longer will this take? I need to return in time to make Jarrick’s deadline, or he’ll destroy my village,” Ingrid said.
“Have no fear. I will return you in plenty of time.”
Ingrid swallowed the rest of her complaints. There was no hope of changing the goddess’s mind, and she would worry regardless of Eir’s assurances until the spell was bound. The best option was to hurry and train as she needed.
“Midgard is limited, and it is why you have so much to learn. That’s also why you could not heal Jorg—his elven blood was fighting against you, and you didn’t recognize it.”
“What? Could I have helped him? I knew I should have tried again.”
Eir sighed and stared at Ingrid. “It wasn’t a matter of just doing more of the same. You needed to See. Which is why you have to concentrate on your studies.” With that Eir turned from Ingrid and pulled several large books from the newly organized shelves. “These will get you started on
the basic healing runes and herbs. You can practice what you learn tomorrow.”
“Could you have helped him if he needed it?”
Eir pointed at the books. “He didn’t need my help. Now read.”
Ingrid looked a bit lost. The task seemed even more impossible than moving objects around a room. It was a lot of reading in such a short time. “I have to read these tonight? And know how to use them by tomorrow?”
“Believe you can, and you will. No one outside of Asgard has ever had the ability to read the language of the gods. You’ve shown that you have that skill. Trust in it and the knowledge will come to you.”
Ingrid stared at the large tomes stacked in front of her and swallowed. “Which one should I—oh,” Ingrid tipped her head toward the ceiling and groaned. I wish she’d say something when she leaves.
With careful fingers, Ingrid pulled the top book closer and opened the cover, if this helped her to bind the spell and get home quicker, she’d do her best. As it was in the workroom of the völva’s home, the language made sense to her, opening her mind to wisdom she’d never learned but somehow knew.
23
Restless that she’d wasted too much time learning about plants and runes, Ingrid itched to be back with her friends. She wanted to help stop the druht and save her village.
She reached her hand into her waist pouch and removed the rune stones. The weight against her palm gave her some peace, yet it also made her long to protect her home as the message on them told her.
All this reading and training and I’ve learned nothing I can use right now. How much longer will I be here? I need to know that Jorg has healed from his injuries. What if he needs me?
“He is recovering well, if that will help you concentrate.”
Eir’s calm voice from behind made Ingrid’s shoulders scrunch. The information she acquired was valuable—she understood that. It was just taking too long.
“It’s been days and while I sit here, my friends and family are in more danger. I need to be there. I feel so helpless . . . and selfish. I should be with them.”
The Viking Maiden Box Set Page 42