by K.N. Lee
Though today was not Amalia’s lucky day, she refused to let it be her last.
With the last of her strength and will, she swam, and as a hand clutched her naked ankle, she froze and turned to look back.
“Come, child. You’re too cold. Let me warm you,” a female voice said. Her green hair lit up the water and her black eyes struck terror into Amalia’s soul.
No. She shook her head. Mama told her about the deception of mermaids. Growing up on an island, everyone knew the dangers of water.
Home. That’s where she needed to go. But, home seemed to be a million miles away.
Their village had been destroyed by fire drakes, and thousands of people from the realm were making their way to safety. To Kjos, where the gods were said to still look upon favorably.
Her lungs burned and though she kicked and thrashed, she couldn’t free herself from the mermaid’s grasp. More were coming. She saw their forms darting from side to side like bolts of colored lightning in the water. Time was running out, and she had no choice but to reveal her lineage. It was the only way to survive.
So, with her hands outstretched, her eyes and hands glowed a bright blue, and white lines were illuminated all over her body.
The mermaid let go, and let out a siren call that sent every mermaid fleeing.
That was all it took. They knew what she was.
Who she was. Not even their queen, the Maiden Mermaid would dare touch her.
And, she hadn’t even needed to exert her power.
The water went dark as Amalia stopped building her inner power and swam toward the surface. Weakened, and exhausted, she barely made it. The water was too strong and her body was suddenly very heavy, but as she reached the surface, a hand reached out for her.
Like a beacon of hope, she held her hand high above her head as panic began to set it that she wouldn’t make it in time to catch a life-saving breath.
Sight became blurry. Arms lax. Her kicks no longer propelled her upward.
As the burning in her chest became unbearable, and she was certain that she’d lost her fight with death, someone jumped in after her. Strong arms wrapped around her and she was pulled out of the river.
Swift winds blew at her wet face, nearly instantly freezing her long dark hair.
“Ga, you’re alright, miss?” the young man who saved her asked.
She coughed up water and turned onto her side as she began to choke. Her words wouldn’t come out. So, she simply nodded and wiped her mouth.
“Saw what you did down there,” he said. “What was that, exactly?”
She froze at those words. Best to keep quiet. There was no telling what he would do if he knew the truth of her origins.
“I won’t say anything. Promise,” he said, his bright blue eyes sincere. His wet blond hair was almost as long as hers, waist-length and wavy. It clung to his face and he pulled it back. She couldn’t help but notice that he had a nice face. Handsome. “You can tell me.”
He had to be not more than a year or two older. Maybe sixteen. Could she trust him?
Several terrifying scenarios raced through her mind. But, she reminded herself that he had just saved her life.
She watched him as he searched her face with curious eyes.
“You’re not a Wolf, are you?”
Amalia hesitated, but when he picked up a cloak from the rock behind her and wrapped it around her shoulders, she shook her head.
“I knew it. Humans can’t do what you did down there, and neither can Wolves. You’re a Mage,” he said with widened eyes as he settled down before her. He raked his hands through his wet hair and stared at her. “Never met a Mage girl before. Magic is outlawed around here.”
“I know,” she said with a nod. “But, my people had no choice. The firedrakes destroyed half the realm.”
“That sounds terrible,” he said. Then, he looked to the sky. “It’ll be morning in a few hours. Better get home.”
“Thank you,” she said, bringing his cloak closer to her skin and fighting off the shivers. “For saving me.”
“Of course,” he said with a smile. “I’m Aros, son of Reidar the Wise.”
“Amalia.” She licked her lips and they stung the moment the cold air hit them. “Promise me you won’t say anything about what you saw. Please.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” he said, covering his heart. “But, any true Wolf will be able to smell that you’re not one of us. Besides, you look more like a wet cat, anyway. They’ll just think you’re a human. Not many Mages in these parts. Well, none that I’ve ever heard of, really. They hang or burn them in other parts.”
Fear gripped at her, and the bitter cold of the night threatened to silence her for an eternity in the soothing arms of death.
“Oh, but not here,” he clarified after seeing the terrified expression on her paling face.
“But, you’re a Wolf?”
He nodded. “I am. I haven’t made the change yet, though. Maybe this year. Gods willing. But, not the kind you might have heard of. I’m more of a scholar. My father is a Libretto. He spends his life studying, and is teaching me everything he knows so that I can pass the knowledge on. Where are you from?”
She thought quickly to a neutral territory. “Mueir,” she said through chattering teeth.
Aros brought her to her feet. “Well, you’re in Berufell, now. Come. Let’s get you out of this cold before you freeze into a block of ice. How about we tell my Ma and Pa you’ve run away from the slavers? They’d take you in, no questions asked. I swear.”
Her teeth chattered, but she nodded. Perhaps this young man was sent by the gods to save her. Even at her age, she believed in fate. She’d seen a god before. She knew they were real.
Now, as Aros helped her to her feet she said a silent prayer to that god, and thanked him for keeping his promise.
“Thank you,” she said to the boy, as much as to the dead god who had given her his power.
7
Berufell was dark, quiet, and the ground was an unfortunate mixture of ice and mud. It was nothing like home.
In Skal, it was always warm, with short winters and long summers. Flowers bloomed all year round, and exotic birds called it their home even when the winter came. The lush fields and apple orchards were a distant memory. After the firedrakes had come and destroyed the Kjos countryside with their fire, crops refused to grow, livestock died, and most Mages were forced from their homes. Like Amalia’s ancestors, they’d settled in villages all along the neutral territory.
She sighed. Skal wasn’t so neutral anymore.
Without shoes, Amalia’s feet sank into the cold mud and slipped on the frozen patches of dirt and snow. How she missed her warm bed at home. She feared that if she didn’t warm herself soon, her toes would break off like ice.
The village was fortified with tall wooden walls and a large wooden door guarded by big men in heavy fur and leather cloaks. Their shields and swords were bigger than her body, and she swallowed as she and Aros approached from the open field surrounding the circular village beneath the snowcapped mountains.
Shivering, she couldn’t wait to set herself before a warm fire and rest her head. She’d been running and hiding for what must have been many hours.
Now, she was wet, dirty, and disheveled. With Aros by her side, no one gave her a second glance.
As she walked along the timber streets of the sleeping village of her enemy, she wondered if she’d lost her mind.
Wolf shifters were natural enemies of Mages. It all stemmed from an ancient battle between two human clans. It had been won when one of the Mage gods cursed one clan to life as half man and half wolf. That clan had grown in number as well as hate. Now, they were determined to destroy her people. But, perhaps her only chance for survival was to hide in plain sight. No one would expect a Mage to be in their village. She could only hope.
Darkness awaited, and Aros put a finger to his lips as he looked back at her. They approached a long house with several poles at
the sides which held up the walls and roof made of small wooden tiles. All of the homes looked the same except for a few taller ones at the back and center of the village. She realized that this one must be Aros’s.
She nodded and kept quiet. Following him through the back door, and down a short hallway, he stepped into a large open room. Her eyes brightened at the sight of a large fire in the center. Its smoke wafted upward and out of a hole in the roof.
Aros turned to her with a grin.
“This is my home,” he said. Then, he scratched his head. “My brothers, Magnus and Helgi sleep over there, and I sleep on the other side. Ma and Pa sleep in the loft up there.”
Amalia looked up to see a ladder leading to a space above the main floor at the back of the house. There were two young men with bright blond hair sleeping on the long bench that lined the long sides of the house. They were covered with fur and woolen blankets. There was an empty space just under the window that looked out to the stable and pig pen. Aros kicked off his shoes and sat on the bed. He scooted to the wall and held the blanket up.
“Come, warm yourself. You can sleep with me tonight and meet Ma and Pa in the morning,” he whispered.
She hesitated. Mother and father would be livid if they found out she had shared a bed with a young man. She locked eyes with him. Did Wolves not have rules against such a thing?
“Come on. Don’t be shy. You must be freezing.”
She licked her lips. Unsure. But, her bones were chilled. What choice did she have?
She had no idea how to survive in the wild in the dead of winter. She’d grown up in the safety of her parent’s home. She’d never been alone before and the thought of being out there in the dark by herself was greater than her fear of being caught.
Trusting Aros seemed to be the only option for now. If she could hide her power, she would survive.
She had to.
She climbed into bed with him and pressed her back to his chest. She closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief.
“See,” he whispered into her ear. She melted into him. “It’s not so bad.”
That was an understatement. He was warm, and when he pulled the blanket over her and held her to his body, she felt safe. All fears of what her parents would think faded. She wished she could sleep in Aros’ arms every night for the rest of her days.
Sleep came quickly and muted all of the screams and sounds of death that haunted her mind. But, not for long. Sleep brought new horrors to her. Visions of sharp teeth and long claws.
Visions of fire.
8
“Amalia,” Mother whispered.
The sun was so bright that she had to squint to see her mother’s face. It was nice seeing her again, even if it was a dream. She wrapped her arms around her waist and buried her face into her mother’s chest. Tears filled her eyes and all of the pain and grief she’d felt poured free with each sob.
Why couldn’t this be real? The green hills and valleys were just as she remembered it. The small huts and houses of her village weren’t burnt and blackened by firedrake flames, and there weren’t any dead bodies littering the roads.
If only she could return home, she might be able to reverse whatever damage the Brotherhood had done.
It was her gift. It was her destiny.
“No, love,” Mother said, stroking her head. “There are greater things ahead for you. Forget Skal. Forget your father and I. One day you will understand that all things happen for a reason, and the gods need you to live.”
She placed her hands on either side of Amalia’s face and within her eyes, she saw a land of silver mountains and ancient castles.
It was beautiful, but it wasn’t what her heart desired.
“But, I want to come home to you and Father.”
“You will come home, Amalia. One day. When you’re ready.”
Amalia woke to a giant of a man standing over her. All pleasant feelings from dreaming about her mother were instantly erased as fear filled her heart.
With a gasp, she shot up and scrambled away, only to find that she was surrounded by strangers. All four of them had bright blond hair and blue eyes that matched Aros’.
“No need to worry, Amalia,” Aros said, waking up and rubbing his eyes. He yawned and came to his feet. “It’s just Father.”
He was at least seven feet tall, with a beard braided to his chest. His long hair hung over his shoulders in waves and he watched her with cold curiosity and eyes as blue as the clearest sky on a sunny day.
“Aros,” a fierce looking woman with shoulder-length hair braided into two braids said. She had a scar on her neck that looked like someone had tried to slit her throat. She frowned at Amalia as she looked her up and down. “What have you done? Who is this girl? Have you given her your seed?”
Amalia’s eyes widened. She knew what that meant, and gave Aros a look of mortification.
“Dear Eris,” Aros said, his cheeks turning red. “I have not. She is a friend.”
“Friend? She’s not a Wolf. She’s human,” one of his brothers said, a crocked grin on his face. “Since when do you have human friends, little brother?”
“Helgi’s right,” the other said. “Leave it to Aros to bring in a stray from beyond the walls.”
She flickered a frightened look back up to their father.
He lifted her from the bed by her hair and a yelp escaped her lips.
“Careful with her, dear,” Runa said. “She’s just a child.”
Sniffing her like the Wolf that he was, she widened her eyes with terror, and reached up to grab his hand. His grip was that of stone and she was no match for his strength, so she endured the pain of her hair pulling from her tender scalp.
“Human,” he said. “Not a drop of Wolf blood running through her veins.”
He set her down and Aros took her hand within his.
“Right,” Aros said, nodding.
“What is she doing this far north?”
Aros licked his lips and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I found her last night when I was out checking the traps. She escaped Mulder slave traders.”
“Reidar,” the mother said, her eyes softening. She placed a hand on her husband’s forearm. “She’s lucky to have escaped those scoundrels. They’ll take anyone who crosses their path, regardless of where they were born.”
Reidar lifted a brow. “Why is she lucky, Runa? If her people were weak enough to be made into slaves, they deserve their fate.”
“And, if she was clever enough to escape them, she deserves her freedom,” Runa said, and Reidar tilted his head. His furrowed brows relaxed as he looked at his wife. “Even you can appreciate that, my love.”
“Are we keeping her?” Magnus asked, looking at her distastefully. “She’s rather small. We couldn’t bring her on any hunts.”
“She can stay here with Mother, where it’s safe,” Aros said.
“I have always wanted a daughter,” Runa said, smiling for the first time.
“Such a decision should not be made hastily,” he said. He stroked his beard. “Let me give it some thought. She can stay for the time being. But, she must follow my rules. Understood?”
“Her name is Amalia,” Aros said. “And, she understands. Right?”
“I understand,” she said. “I promise I won’t be any trouble. I can help cook and clean. I don’t take up much space and will do anything you ask. Please, just don’t send me back out there. I have nowhere to go.”
Runa smiled, and took Amalia by the hand. There was something reassuring and warm about the way the woman gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
“Come with me, girl. Let’s get you out of those rags.”
Nodding, Amalia began to wrap her mind around a little ray of hope that there was a chance she would survive.
In the den of her enemy.
9
The day passed as Amalia awaited her fate. Runa gave her clean clothes. She now wore a plain gray dress made of warm yarn and a red pinafore that tied around
her waist.
Buckets of water and fresh greens and potatoes were assembled around them as the hanging pot of water started to boil. Aros brought in more chopped wood as his brothers sharpened their knives.
It was a quiet evening, full of tension that set Amalia’s nerves on edge. Still, no one made her feel unwelcome. The family of Wolves simply went about their day as usual. Runa had even poured a hot bath for her and let her bathe in the back room.
Amalia had stayed in the water until it became a bitter cold. Then, Runa combed her long hair and freed it of all tangles.
For a moment, she almost felt at home. She played with the two long braids Runa had put her hair into and watched them all. Memories of her father preparing his equipment for the next day and her mother stirring a pot of stew returned to her and left a sharp ache in her heart. The memories were still too fresh.
Instead of sitting around and obsessing over what Reidar would decide, she stood from her spot on the floor and joined Runa as she shucked corn for the flame and picked the feathers off of two freshly killed chickens.
Runa gave her a sidelong glance, as she pulled the innards from the plucked chickens and tossed them into a wooden bowl.
“You’re quite good at that,” she said, nodding. “Fast. Efficient. Not one feather left from what I can see.”
Amalia smiled at her. Finally, something she could do that made her feel normal again. “I’ve been cooking all of my life. It’s something my mother and I used to do together. I’ve always loved it.”
Thinking of her mother was painful. For a moment, she had to consciously steady her hands so that they wouldn’t shake, and breathe deeply so that she wouldn’t shed any tears.
“Do you know how to make stew?”
“Indeed,” she said. “Rabbit stew is my favorite to make. I can make delicious goat stew as well.”
“Good girl,” Runa said, approvingly. “A good wife should have at least two stews in her head. It keeps a man satisfied in the winter, and fills the bellies of the little ones.”