* * *
Ingrid's eyelids and body felt heavy and immovable, but her mind fluttered awake, breaking free from the cocoon that held it captive. A spoon rattled against a pot and the smell of warm stew and fresh bread woke her dormant stomach with a loud growl. A couple seconds later a rough finger pushed against her eye and pried her lid open to show a shadowed face inches from her own.
"Come on, finish this and wake up," a familiar voice growled.
I know that voice. Plintze!
The dwarf's hidden cottage, that's where she was. As she struggled to bring herself out of the bonds that chained her to sleep, a moan slipped from her throat. Finally, she licked at her lips and cracked open her eyes. When she attempted to move her arms and push herself up, one of them was strapped across her middle. Fear sent an instant surge of strength through her and she gasped for air as she bolted into a sitting position.
"Whoa, easy now," Plintze said as if she were a frightened horse.
Breathing hard and still confused, she looked around the room. It was the same as the last time she'd seen it except that she slept atop a pallet of straw with warm, heavy blankets over her.
"How?" Swallowing hard against her dry throat, memories swirled with the dragon, the hole, and the pain. Looking down at her strapped arm it all flooded back to her.
"Here, eat this and get some strength back." Plintze set a bowl of stew in her lap and placed a spoon into her free hand.
"How did I get here?" she asked.
"I brought you. After that demon gave up and flew away," he said.
"I didn't think it would do that. I expected it to dig me out and . . . " Tears stung the back of her eyes.
"They aren't agile creatures on the ground, don't want to dirty their pretty claws either. Quicker than an arrow in the air though."
"How did you find me and get me here?"
"Stop asking so many questions and eat." Plintze played with something in his pocket, not looking at Ingrid. "I don't know why, but it felt like I had to search for you. Like something pulled me there. Eat!" Ingrid hurried a spoonful to her mouth on reflex, then hunger hit with full force and she continued eating in earnest. "I came up on that beast as it circled that hole you crawled into and stayed hidden until it left. Digging you out was no easy chore. Carrying you over my shoulder like some ox didn't do me any good either." Plintze took her empty bowl and filled it again, setting it gently in her lap.
"Thank you. I expected to die." Staring into her stew, an errant tear plopped into the bowl.
"Humph."
Ingrid smiled through her watery vision. Despite the circumstances, her body relaxed, and she breathed easier. "Why is my arm wrapped like this?" There wasn't any pain, but her entire left arm was wrapped in linen.
"You got a nasty burn and slice in that arm. The burns were already healing by the time I got to you, but there's venom in a dragon's claws. Helps them to subdue their prey to carry it off easier. Your body couldn't heal that, I guess."
"It doesn't hurt. Did you fix it?"
"I had to get help, but you'll heal," he said.
"Help from who? I thought you stayed away from everyone."
"I do," he growled. "You'd have died." The last part was said so low Ingrid almost didn't hear it as he turned his back to her and busied himself stirring the pot over the fire.
"Thank you," she said.
The cottage remained silent for several minutes. Finished with her stew and a slice of bread Plintze had added to the second bowl, Ingrid's strength returned. Rested and warm, she fiddled with the coverings over her legs.
"What's the matter?" Plintze looked at her over his shoulder.
"I need to go outside for a few minutes," she said.
Confused, he turned and stared at her until she cocked an eyebrow at him. "Oh," he opened his eyes wide with understanding. Opening the door he helped her walk on her knees until she was outside the low threshold. "Hurry."
Ingrid shook her head while letting her eyes adjust to the morning sunlight after the dark interior.
"Did you hear me? I said hurry," Plintze said when she continued to stand still.
"Back off, I'll go as fast as I can," she hissed.
Plintze stared at her and blinked without saying another word. Ingrid stretched her back, feeling the skin on her arm tingle as it rubbed against the linen wrap and walked away from the cottage. She returned to find Plintze pacing in front of his door.
"Thought you might get it in your head to run off," he said. "Inside, quick."
Bending over, she walked through the door without help and settled back onto the pallet. The fire was low, and the food was gone, but the room hugged her in warmth.
"How long have I been here, Plintze?"
The dwarf made some grumbles and fidgeted with his sleeve before answering. "Three days."
"What?" Ingrid closed her eyes and let the instant tears slide through her lashes. Three days. Too late, I'm too late. The elves would have made it to the village without a warning. Jorg and Selby pulled Hagen into a disaster. Everyone she loved was most likely dead or dying and she had done nothing to stop it. Sorrow turned to anger. Deeper and darker than she had ever felt, it bubbled up from within making her hands shake and her lip curl while the need for vengeance filled her. Somewhere in the back of her mind she felt a sensation, like a tapping of something trapped and trying to get her attention. Ignoring the sensation, she looked at Plintze. "I have to go home. I need to know what happened."
"What's wrong? You don't seem like yourself somehow," Plintze asked.
"I'm fine, I need to leave that's all. Where's my pack? Did I lose it?"
"No, it's here. It was on the ground near where I found you." Agitated, he stomped over to his bed and started throwing items onto the cover. Ingrid watched in confusion as he wrapped the cover into a bundle and shoved it into the pack she'd seen him wearing the first time they'd met. Pulling her pack out from under his bed he held it out to her. "No reason to dawdle. Let's go then." He threw open the door, jammed a wide-brimmed hat onto his head, and left.
Ingrid followed him. "Where are you going?"
"Close the door," he yelled. Grabbing the handle and jerking the door closed she ran to catch up to him.
"Why are you coming with me?"
"You are slow. I'll need to treat your arm again so I have to come with you."
"You can give me the supplies. I'm capable of taking care of myself and you don't need to follow me." She stopped walking and looked down at the ground, her eyes roaming back and forth as if searching for something.
"There, that's what I'm talking about," Plintze said. "You're acting snappish. It's not like you."
"I know, I heard it that time." Looking at him, her eyes were softer. The knocking in her brain was louder, and she put her hand to her forehead, rubbing it trying to clear the noise.
"What happened out there? What haven't you told me?" Plintze asked.
Ingrid continued to rub her temples with her good hand, keeping her eyes closed. "Jarrick of Alfheim spoke to me through the dragon." She didn't open her eyes but could hear Plintze's breathing quicken.
"What are you saying? How could he speak to you?"
"I don't know how. There was a flash of light, then his voice was in my head. It felt like tar."
"What did he say?"
"He wanted me to join him, to come to Alfheim with him. When I refused, there was another flash of light and then the dragon attacked."
"We need to hurry. You are not safe out here."
"I feel like part of him is still inside my mind, sticky and dark. My head aches."
Plintze didn't say anything and when Ingrid opened her eyes, he was staring at her. "He practices the dark arts and we need to get you to someone who can help you."
Ingrid nodded her head. Reaching out her good arm for a hug, Plintze stepped away.
"None of that, let's go." Adjusting his hat, he strode off in the same direction she had walked days before.
19
Ingrid stood from refilling her flask with water from the bubbling creek she'd followed on her first trip through the valley. Stretching her back she closed her eyes, trying to let the chirping birds and sunshine soothe her mind and spirit. Mint floated through the air above the smells of moss and damp earth. Inhaling long and deep, she let the breath out slowly before opening her eyes and readying to continue the journey.
"Are you ready to go?" she asked Plintze who was resting in the shade of some gorse bushes. Without a word, he stood and turned toward the steep hillside, digging his walking stick into the earth as he began to climb. "Where are you going? Shouldn't we keep following the creek?"
"This way is faster."
"Why didn't you tell me to come this way before?" Ingrid grunted as she dug her feet into the incline and had to lean forward to keep from falling. Her muscles strained from staying so long in bed after the dragon attack, but she wouldn't admit it. The little imp is probably trying to get me lost, anyway. As soon as she had the thought her head ached again, pressure squeezing her skull from the inside. "Plintze," she called out to the dwarf who was getting farther and farther away from her. "I don't think I can make it this way."
"You can. Keep moving."
Plintze didn't look back at her and she snorted at his heartless lack of concern. Rubbing the back of her neck, she pinched her lips together and kept climbing. After what felt like hours, with dirt stuck throughout the fibers of her gauntlet and smeared across her face, they reached the top. Falling to the ground Ingrid lay back onto the grass needing to catch her breath.
"Where's the wrap for your other hand?" Plintze asked.
"Why do you care? You're in too much of a hurry to get me home and leave me."
Plintze grumbled something Ingrid didn't understand and took a few steps away before returning to stand near her. "I will not leave you. Do you still have the wrap or not?"
"It's right here. I had to take it off because it kept getting caught while I was forced to climb a mountain."
"Put it back on and then we'll go. We can make it by nightfall if we hurry."
Ingrid rolled her eyes and huffed loudly while sitting up. Fumbling with the long strip of fabric she struggled to wrap it in a secure way, taking it on and off several times with increasing mutterings and growls each time. Finally, she threw it onto the ground and wrapped her arms around her knees.
"I don't need it, anyway."
Plintze sighed. "Yes, you do. Give it here, I'll wrap it."
"I'm sorry, Plintze. I don't feel right, like everything is wrong and it will never get better." Ingrid picked the wrapping off the ground and handed it to Plintze, who'd kneeled next to her.
"It's the Dark Elf. He used magic that lets him manipulate you. He's riding around with us inside your head."
"How do you know that? Why would he do that to me? How do I get him out?" Ingrid rushed out the questions without taking a breath.
Plintze looked up at her with a scowl. "Settle yourself, girl." He finished wrapping her hand and stood up. "I'll tell you while we walk. Let's go."
Ingrid stood up and followed as Plintze headed off in the direction they needed to go. As they crested the hill Ingrid stopped for a moment to take in the view. Lush green trees and birds flew overhead, while white, yellow and pink blossoms dotted in random patterns, lending their sweet scents to the air. A thick lump formed in her throat as a similar view came to mind, only it was blackened and filled with evil. Plintze, either not realizing she stopped or not caring, continued down the slope into the forested cover. Ingrid straightened herself, squared her shoulders and hurried after him. Under the thick canopy the air grew cooler, and the light played games with the shadows. Several times Ingrid felt as if someone watched her, flitting in and out of sight among the sunbeams.
"It's creepy in here," she said.
"It is. The faster we get through this part, the better."
Amazed, Ingrid nearly had to jog to keep Plintze's pace. "I feel like I'm being watched. Is there someone out there?" she whispered, but louder than she'd wanted to.
"Yes, the Sprites live in this part of the forest. Never can tell how they'll behave and best to steer clear of them."
"The Sprites? Have they always lived here, or are they newly returned as well?"
"They have been here long before your kind."
"Hmm. Why haven't I ever seen one?"
"You don't want to."
"How do you know? You can't decide that for me." Ingrid felt the pressure in her brain again pushing forward her frustration and anger. I'm so tired of being told what I can and can't do. Now my own body has turned against me, too.
"You want to meet a Sprite, that's your business. I'd advise against it, that's all," Plintze growled, his patience growing thin with her attitude. "I don't want to be around when you do though, so keep moving."
"Have you ever met one?"
"Yes."
"What happened?"
"I'm not talking about it here. Not all of them are bad, but they are all temperamental."
Ingrid scanned the trees and undergrowth, back and forth and above her head, paying more attention to trying to glimpse a Sprite than to her feet and almost tripped several times.
"Watch yourself!" Plintze yelled when she tumbled forward into him, not for the first time.
"How far away are we from the village? I don't recognize this area."
"Far enough. We should make it before dark if you don't break one of us first."
"Humph." Giggling she ignored the retorted mutterings from Plintze.
Not long after, the forest thinned and more light pushed aside the shadows. Plintze allowed the pace to slow a slight degree, and they walked in silence. Without stopping, they pulled dried herring from their packs, staved off their hunger and pressed on. Starting its descent on the western horizon, the sun fired the skies in bright orange and yellows by the time they finally stood at the top of the hillside above the village.
Ingrid's heart hammered in her chest and her middle tied up in knots. They hadn't seen any smoky tendrils in the sky that would signal the buildings had been set to the torch, but the Elves would have arrived days before, so that meant nothing. When they looked down toward the bay, she sagged in relief at the boats bobbing without concern next to the docks. All looked the same as when she'd left, except that it was empty. No one moved about; there weren't any children running around, no men hauling in fishing nets, no hammers or conversations around the well. Silence hung like low clouds.
Plintze looked around, antsy and nervous. "It looks as though everyone might have left."
"They wouldn't all leave. Where would they go? The ships are all there, even the ones that went to Jorvik." Except Papa's. Ingrid felt a gagging sensation in her throat as she remembered tumbling through the rushing waters of the river.
"Only one way to find out what happened." Looking at Ingrid, he nodded and they both set off down the hillside.
* * *
As they slowly made their way between the buildings and headed toward the well, it was as if it were an ordinary day--if there had been people, that is. Nothing looked broken or burned, and there was no sign that any fighting had taken place. Only the creaking of the wooden boats against the wooden docks suggested there might be life somewhere. Evening frogs croaked along the shore and birds twittered in the skies, but there weren't any chickens, goats, dogs, or any movement on the streets. Briny smelling fishing nets sat ready for the next day, buckets sat empty next to the well, freshly dyed linen hung on a line as if one moment all had been normal and the next it wasn't. They walked up to the longhouse doors and stood in front of them listening. A scrape of wood against the floor and a muffled cough finally gave a sign they were not alone. Taking a deep breath, Ingrid pushed open the heavy doors and stepped inside. The hearth fire was cold and not a single sconce was lit. Pitch blackness filled the large space, but the smell of furs and warm bodies floated in the air. Something else hit Ingrid's s
enses, too: a metallic tingle of magic.
"Well, you finally made it. Everyone has been so anxious about you," a melodic but dangerous-sounding voice spoke from the dark as a figure moved toward her. The hairs on Ingrid's arms stood high, rubbing against her clothes. A heartbeat later, the hearth sprang to life with a full fire rising above the charred and cold logs, bringing light throughout the building.
Standing before her was a tall, slender male wearing brown breeches and a deep green sleeveless tunic in the softest-looking fabric Ingrid had ever seen. It shimmered lighter or darker depending on how the light hit. Long, icy blonde hair hung straight over slim but muscled arms, framing alabaster skin so perfect it practically glowed. Light blue eyes stared at her from under white eyebrows and long, curling lashes. A straight nose sat in the middle of perfectly symmetrical chiseled cheekbones leading down to a somewhat sharp chin, but it was the ears that made her knees weak and sweat trickle down her spine. Elongated, pointed Elf ears. Not like the soft beauty of Jorg's, but sharp and pronounced.
"You should come in as well, Plintze. I know you're out there," the Elf said. Ingrid didn't turn but felt the door open and Plintze step to her side. Thanks for letting me stand here by myself, friend.
The Elf laughed, "Friend? Naive girl, he's a dwarf. He'll do whatever brings the most profit, and that is rarely friendship."
Ingrid felt the thick tar creep within her mind and smiled. "You are one of Jarrick's messengers, I suppose?"
"I am Dúngarr. It's nice to meet you." He crossed his fist over his heart and nodded his head, but the gesture was a patronizing act of insincerity.
"I can't offer you the same sentiment. I prefer honesty. Where is everyone? What have you done with my family?"
"They are here, unharmed. We've been waiting for you, and I must say, we expected you sooner. Did you run into some trouble?"
Ingrid looked to the floor and clenched her teeth together. The darkness in her mind battled against her heart. Her family was here, hidden in the dark at the rear of the room and she wanted nothing more than to run to them. But the part of her stained and dripping with dark magic kept her still, standing ready for whatever this Elven coward sent her way. "Nothing we couldn't handle. Right, Plintze?"
Ingrid, The Viking Maiden (Viking Maiden Series Book 1) Page 20