Gray skies and drizzling rain made the streets a muddy mess. Streams of water flowed in deep ruts made by carts and wagons that lumbered along what passed for roads. She'd expected something much more grand. The smell of rotten midden heaps pushed in from every side. There wasn't a market, but peasants set up tables either outside the door of their own ramshackle homes or parked a wagon somewhere and sold wares from it. Even so, the harbor was full of ships from far-away lands, and what was for sale was brilliant: glass from Italia, spices from the Indies, and embroidered silk fabric from Frankia.
"Hagen thought I would think of this as a shopping trip. I told him I didn't, but I might have lied. I want to look around at all this stuff," she whispered to Selby. Ingrid nodded toward a cart selling fabric in the deepest color of red she'd ever seen.
"I know. I was thinking the same thing," Selby said.
Even though they didn't have to go far, getting anywhere in a hurry was difficult through the thick mud. Coated with mud splatters to her knees, Ingrid looked at herself in disgust. In the middle of grumbling about the need for clean, dry clothes, a sound grabbed her attention and she stopped walking.
"Where is that music coming from?" she asked.
"I think just ahead. I've never heard anything like it," Selby answered. Ingrid nodded in agreement while she started to walk again.
Ingrid was intrigued. In a hurry now, but no one else wanted to pick up the pace. After many tries to urge the group forward, she huffed and trudged along. Warm, fresh bread smells wafted out of one door as they passed and Ingrid's stomach rumbled. A slab of bread and a warm mug of spiced cider would be delicious right now. Thoughts of warm food and dry clothes kept her occupied until they finally reached a stand loaded with dead geese hanging from their feet at the end of the street.
Around the corner was a man dressed in a pair of stained and patched breeches with an equally patched, loose shirt hung over a protruding belly. A large floppy hat kept the rain away from his face and he played a bone flute made from the leg of a swan. A jolly little tune fluttered through the air. Under his feet lay a mat of woven reeds he used to tap his toes to the beat. Ingrid danced a little in time with his tune and Selby clapped wildly with her when he finished. The crowd persisted in calling for another tune, and much to Ingrid's delight, her party stayed to listen. This song was different, however. It was beautiful and slow, but melancholy. Mesmerized, Ingrid closed her eyes and could picture grasses on the moor back home rippling in the breeze, the purple heather flooding the hills with their earthy floral smells and the sad call of a heron looking for its mate as she swayed her body to the tune.
Within the softness of her daydream, voices shouted in the back of Ingrid's mind, interrupting the beautiful scenery. Suddenly, she realized the music had stopped. Opening her eyes in time to dodge a large body hurtling past her, she stood frozen like a deer in a meadow. Selby's hand grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip and yanked her to a run. Shouts and the hissing of swords pulled from their scabbards sounded all around them. The coppery smell of blood filled the air as men clashed together, driving their weapons into each other. Selby and Ingrid dove under a nearby wagon as the clamor of metal meeting metal and shrieking battle cries rang out. Shivering in the mud, they huddled together struggling to distinguish one person from another. Selby screamed and covered her face with her hands as Ingrid lay silent, rooted to the ground while her entire body trembled.
Within a few harried moments, the fighting was over, yet it felt like hours. The raiders flashed upon Klaus' men and jumped away just as quick. Stunned, Ingrid and Selby emerged from hiding, and several injured men near them moaned. Without thinking, Ingrid ran to their side.
The first warrior Ingrid reached was bleeding so profusely that his shirt was soaked through. Ripping the sopping material away from the wound, she held her breath to keep from retching. From collarbone to navel was splayed wide open. Touching the man's forehead, she said a quick prayer, then moved to the next man.
"Ingrid!" Selby ran after her. Not all of the men were convinced the fight was over and weapons still clanged in her ears. "This isn't safe. You need to come away with me."
"No." The new man in front of her also had a gash across his chest but it was not as deep as the last one. Closing her eyes she laid both hands on the sliced flesh. Warmth embraced her as she concentrated. In only a few seconds she felt the cool air around her again and without checking, she scrambled to the next body, continuing to move from one to the next. There were no sounds in her ears except the whoosh of her own heartbeat. Time didn't exist. Nothing mattered to her at that moment except the next injury. She didn't notice the person, only blood, broken bones, and ripped flesh until she pulled her hands from the last man she could help. Then, cold air blasted around her as if her warm blanket was snatched away, and everything went dark.
6
Ingrid blinked her eyes and her vision adjusted to the darkened room where she stood. The only sliver of light filtered in from between the curtain and the frame of the room's single window. As if a stranger in the corner, she viewed the scene--a family huddled together over a woman holding a small child on her lap. Soiled towels lay on the ground. The woman was crying but Ingrid could not hear any sound as she watched. Silence encased her like a tomb. Recognition squeezed her heart and burned through her chest; this was her home and her family. Her mother held the child, disheveled hair pulled loose and falling over her shoulders as her father sat back on his knees, his head low but tilted enough to see tears streaming down his face. Hagen was there too, only much younger; he screamed at her. Not her standing there in silence, not the stranger who witnessed their pain; but the small her, huddled several feet away from the others, squatted near the ground, her arms around her legs as she rocked back and forth. There was blood on her hands and arms. Ingrid struggled to stay upright and swirls floated through her vision. Unbalanced, she bumped into the wall behind her feeling sweat break out at her temples.
Can this be real? Is this one of my lost memories?
Walking toward her mother, she stepped past her younger self. No one else saw her; they had no idea she was there. The child, no more than two, was soaked in blood that flowed from its middle, thick crimson smeared from obvious attempts to help the poor thing. It was dead. Ingrid let tears fall without care down her cheeks. The sting in her eyes told her that she was connected to this scene, yet separate. Darkness tried to swallow her into the pain and she turned to find a way out of the room. Stiffening when her own young face stared at her. Young Ingrid bore glowing turquoise eyes into the true Ingrid, acknowledging her presence among them.
"I tried to save her, but I don't know how to use it." The younger self's voice was small but vibrated against the inside of Ingrid's head as if she'd shouted it with force--an intensity that made Ingrid swallow a dry lump in her throat and want to run. Her younger self stood calm, eerie, detached and said, "Learn."
The room spun and blackness swallowed Ingrid again. It sucked all the air from her. She saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing.
Sounds pricked at Ingrid's mind. Voices. She heard noises in the distance as if she were trapped in a dark pit and they were far above. It was cold and damp. She wanted to climb up to the people. They called her name. She needed to be with them. Struggling, a blast of bright light blinded her and sounds pounded into her skull. She tried to cover her ears against the clamor, but her arms were trapped by her sides. Crying out, she pulled her hands free and lifted them to her head. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes and saw her father staring down at her. His forehead burrowed in lines, he was saying her name over and over.
"Please. Don't. Shout," Ingrid whispered. Squeezed close to her father's chest, he rocked her back and forth. Turning her head to the side so she could breathe, the overwhelming racket and bright light dimmed. Pulling back she blinked until her eyes focused; her heart stuttered as faces surrounded her in all directions. Laying on her father's lap in the mud, everyone around her stared. Selby,
Hagen, and Jorg were closest, sitting on their knees next to her. "What happened?"
"You need to tell us, baby girl," Klaus said as he brushed strands of hair away from her face. "But not now. Let's get you inside so you can get dry and warm." Standing up with her still in his arms, he walked toward a large opened gate. The others followed close, creating a protective circle around the pair. Beyond the gate was a longhouse and they walked directly through the door without stopping. A woman ran up and ushered them to follow her to a back room. It was large and sconces filled with lit candles flickered light against the shadowed walls. Several woven rugs in yellow, indigo, and red overlapped and covered the floor. A bowl filled with white and purple crocus petals sat on a small table, adding a sweet scent to the air.
"Can you stand up, Meyla?" Klaus asked. Ingrid nodded and he lowered her from his arms until she was standing but didn't let go. Swaying, she held onto his arms until she was sure she felt her legs.
"I'm ok, Papa. I can stand by myself now."
"Go out now and I'll help get her clean and warm," the woman told Klaus and pushed Hagen and Jorg out the door with him.
Selby brushed against her side and wrapped her arm around Ingrid's shoulders. Sagging into her friend, Ingrid gave her a slow smile, grateful not to be left alone.
"I'm Greta. My husband is the King. Well, one of them, but you are safe here with us." Behind them someone knocked on the door and without waiting for an answer several people hurried in with a tub and buckets of steaming water. They filled the tub and then left a couple more buckets to warm it up, if necessary, before they left. "Now, let's get you out of these filthy clothes so you can warm yourself."
Selby and Greta helped Ingrid bathe and dress in some borrowed clothes before tucking her into a bed filled with warm furs. The scent of heather wafted up from the bed. Her teeth chattered despite all of the coverings. "You will warm up soon. Try to rest and I will be back to look in on you," Greta said then turned to Selby. "You should wash and change, too. There are more clothes in that trunk." Smiling at both girls she hurried out.
"She is really nice," Selby said.
"Y-yes. Sh-sh-she is."
"Don't talk, just work on getting warm." Reaching into the trunk Greta had indicated, Selby chose some clean clothes and started her own bath.
"Wh-what happened?"
"When? Before or after you fell into the mud and we all thought you died?"
Ingrid stared at the ceiling trying to remember. Did I die? No, I couldn't have. Could I? "I remember the fight was over and there were bodies on the ground. Something inside of me pulled me toward the injured men. It's hard to explain, like needing to breathe only it was the need to touch." She stopped to take a couple deep breaths as her stomach started to churn with the memories. "I don't know why I did it. There was blackness and then I was in the middle of a room and saw . . . something, it's fuzzy." Shaking her head, she tried to bring it all back into focus. The furs poked between her fingers as she clutched the blankets. She looked over at Selby who had stopped washing and was silently staring at her from the tub of water.
"We tried to grab you. To pull you away from the mess, but it was like you were stuck to those men, covered in their blood and crawling through the filth. You were possessed or something." She started to scrub away her own gore again as she recalled the scene. "Your father, Hagen, me, even Jorg--we all tried to pull you away. None of us could. And you didn't go to the men who were dying or already dead. It's like you knew exactly who to help. To heal." She looked directly at Ingrid for the first time.
"Did I? Heal them?"
"Yes."
"I don't know how it happened."
"When you fell at the end, your hands were hot. Just for a minute, but Hagen said he felt them that way on the docks, too. When you healed that boy."
Ingrid rubbed one hand over the other. It was a weird sensation to feel her hands without her gloves, as she rarely took them off, but they were cold. Not just on the inside, but cold to the touch as if they'd been stuck inside a snowdrift. Selby got dressed and sat on the edge of the bed. She took one of Ingrid's hands into her own.
"They are so cold. Do they hurt?"
"No, but I'm tired. My whole body feels cold, on the inside, like I've been drained." Gooseflesh no longer covered her skin, but the heat of the blankets had yet to seep into her core.
"You're pale. You should rest before you have to talk with your father about all of this." She rubbed Ingrid's hand gently.
Greta pushed through the door curtain carrying a tray with steaming mugs that smelled like roasted meat. "I've brought you both some warm broth. Eat up, then rest so you can regain your strength"--she smiled at Selby--"both of you. I won't let anyone else in here to disturb you, and what I say goes around here." She cocked an eyebrow at each of them.
Ingrid sat up and Selby wrapped more blankets around her shoulders while she sipped the broth. She insisted that Selby climb under the mound of covers, too, and they snuggled next to each other when they finished the broth. Late afternoon light filtered into the room despite the covered window and door. Ingrid was exhausted but couldn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes she saw images of bodies covered in blood or worse.
"Are you awake?" Selby nudged Ingrid as she asked.
"Yes."
"I know what happened out there today was weird and hard to understand, but you need to know, whether you like him or not, Jorg is all about you."
"What?" I don't want to think about this.
"He went wild trying to get you away from all those men. He even fought a couple away from you, standing guard like some sort of protector. He almost hit your father before he realized who he was," she said with a giggle.
"Why?" Wings fluttered inside Ingrid's chest as she thought about what Selby said. An image of Jorg's dimple when he grinned made her bite her lip to keep from a smiling. What's happening to me?
"You need to open your eyes, girlie. He's always staring at you like he wants to grab you and run off into the woods." She gave Ingrid a couple little jabs with her elbow and snickered.
"He does not. You're terrible."
"Maybe, but if he looked at me like that, I wouldn't run away. You need to pay more attention because he likes you."
Ingrid thought about that. He likes me? Am I ready for that? "I can't care about that right now. I've got to deal with whatever this hot-hands-that-heal thing is that's turned me into a freak show."
Selby snorted a chuckle through her nose.
"Besides, I've seen lots of girls flirt with him, including you, I believe."
"I flirt with all the cute boys, that's just fact. And not the point."
"You're impossible. Let me rest, I'm tired," she said and closed her eyes. Jorg's smile and drool-worthy dimple replaced the prior images behind her eyelids.
* * *
Queen Greta insisted that Ingrid and Selby continue to stay with her as the days passed. Ingrid's strength returned and she did not have any more visions but she was happy to have the warmth and care of her kind benefactor. Selby, however, itched to get out and explore the city, follow the men, and have the adventure she was hoping for when they left. When Ingrid's father arrived on the third morning to resume more meetings with the King, Ingrid asked him to allow them some time away.
"I can't spare any men to go with you and it's too dangerous for you and Selby to go alone," Father said.
"We will be careful and stay together, Papa, please. We've been inside too long. Did we work so hard to get to Jorvik only to see the inside of a room the whole time?"
"That's not a very good argument. It would be a fitting punishment for your disobedience." He rubbed the back of his neck. "But I will allow you some time to walk around today. You can go along with Hagen on his business."
Ingrid pressed her lips flat and sighed through her nose. The last thing she wanted was to give Hagen any more chances to lord over her and make her feel like she was too young to be there. "Can't you spare anyone
else, Papa?"
"No. If you don't want to follow the leadership of your brother, you can stay here." He walked to the doorway and then turned back to her, "I have meetings to attend. Shall I tell Hagen of his duties today or are you staying put?" He cocked his eyebrow and she knew that he would not tolerate a plan to sneak away.
"We'll follow him. But, does he have to bring his friends? I think Selby might try to kill one of them if we spend too much time together."
Selby let out a choked snort from the other side of the room.
Chuckling, Klaus shook his head. "I will tell him to just choose one other to go with him. You do your part to keep your friend in line and we'll see who makes it home at the end of the day." Pushing through the door curtain she heard him laughing quietly as he walked away.
It's better than staying in again, I guess.
"Finally. I'm so tired of being inside." Selby threw herself onto the bed.
"I'm so sick of being coddled though. We don't need to be escorted."
Just then a knock came from the doorway. "Ingrid, we are leaving in five minutes. If you want to come, get your butt out here or be left behind," Hagen growled from the hall.
* * *
Four minutes later the girls stepped out of the front door and walked up to Hagen and Jorg as they waited a few feet away.
"Let's go. Stay close, understand?" Hagen commanded, looking from Ingrid to Selby. Ingrid rolled her eyes but Selby cocked her head sideways and gave a wicked little grin.
Taking a step closer to Hagen, then another, she stood only a half arm's length away from him. "This close?"
Exhaling through his nose, the muscles in his jaw twitched. "Just keep up." He turned and strode off toward the gates.
Selby looked back and gave Ingrid a muffled giggle that made her bite her lip to keep from laughing. From the corner of Ingrid's eye she noticed Jorg shaking his head and turned in his direction. He smiled in a way that made his hazel-green eyes shine like sunshine on a meadow and his one dimple was fully on display. Her heart jumped and made her forget everything else. I need to stop listening to Selby's nonsense!
Ingrid, The Viking Maiden (Viking Maiden Series Book 1) Page 6