Destined Souls

by Melissa Haag

  “Do not open your eyes,” I said softly, squatting beside him. Carefully, I blew the sand from his face, then used my linen skirt to remove any grit that remained.

  “I made some broth, if you’re hungry.”

  He opened his eyes and turned his head to try to see me in the dark.

  “I am not hungry. But I would still like to taste what you made for me.”

  My stomach dipped at his kind words even in the face of his death. Helping lift his head, I brought the skin to his mouth. He took several sips of the broth then lay back with a gusty exhale.

  “That is very good. Thank you.”

  “You are welcome. How is it you can see me?” I asked, stoppering the water skin.

  “I have always had an eye for death. However, death has never before taken as lovely a form as today.”

  I could feel myself blushing and hoped he couldn’t see it in the relative darkness.

  “Why did you return?” he asked. “Not that I mind your presence, but I thought you were not here for me.”

  I settled on the sand beside him and looked around at the fallen men.

  “I have seen many wars and much death. I have witnessed the suffering that accompanies both.” I met his gaze. “I did not want you to face either alone.”

  He smiled weakly.

  “I do not mind. If you would like to return home, do so with a clear mind. Wherever home is, it smelled of water and trees and a cool breeze.”

  “I will stay.”

  “Then tell me of your home. Let me see it through your eyes.”

  “It is a hard place where only the strong flourish. The fjords give fish and the craggy hills give wildlife and shelter. My home is beautiful in the warm months, but harsh in winter. Because of the harshness, few live there. The salty sea air calls me to the coast where I can stand for hours, listening to the waves and the wind.”

  “It sounds beautiful.”

  “It is. So many think beauty must be perfect and polished, but perfection grows boring after time. Imperfections create a web of interest. Beauty lies there.”

  “You speak like someone much older than you are, Thora,” he said.

  Summoned to Odin’s service during my sixteenth year, I knew I looked young.

  “Years may not touch my skin but they touch my mind.”

  He studied me for a moment.

  “You spoke of home, but no family. Where are they?”

  “Like you, I am alone.”

  “Like me, you didn’t start that way. Tell me what happened to them.”

  I ran my fingers through the sand and thought back.

  “My family was large in numbers. Nearly twenty of us shared a long house. Aunts. Uncles. Cousins.” I looked out over the low dunes, remembering my life as a human. “There was no war or sickness to pull them from me, only age and time. The winter of my sixteenth year came sooner than most. We all knew the dried fish we’d stored wouldn’t be enough. I went to the fjord to try for more fish. The ice was thin and I fell through. I could feel death in the freezing waters and called out to the gods for help. Odin heard and took pity on me. He granted me life so I might serve him.”

  “Odin?” he asked, confused.

  “Odin, the All Father. You do not know him?”

  “I do. I just find it funny that Odin’s maiden is here on a Christian raid.”

  His grin had me chuckling in response.

  “Perhaps it is.”

  He coughed slightly and closed his eyes for a moment. I looked out over the dunes. The crusaders hadn’t yet returned to collect their dead or wounded. Since Giso wasn’t named on a Valkyrie or Grimnir list, someone had to come for him soon.

  Three

  Returning my attention to the dying man, I found him studying me again.

  “What happened to your family?” I asked.

  “My family, like yours, lived far from here. I was a wood smith like my brother and my father before us. Chairs. Tables. Beds. I made and carved the most beautiful pieces. It is not my pride speaking, but the praise of those who bought my work. I had a happy life with a young wife and baby daughter. We lived in the same village where I’d been born, close to my brother, who live in my parents’ old home.”

  He stopped speaking for a moment, and I could see the sorrow in his eyes.

  “I didn’t see then what I see now.”

  “You mean death?” I asked, still curious how he could see me.

  “No. I’ve always seen those who come to collect our souls. I mean my brother and his jealousy. Word of my skill spread, and it wasn’t long before wealthy merchants sought me out to strike a partnership to bring my work into bigger cities. I traveled with the merchant to understand the trade route and the customers so I could better plan what to make and send with him. When I returned home, my wife and infant daughter were buried next to my parents and my brother was missing.”

  “Your brother killed them?”

  “That is what some of the men in the village believe. There was evidence, I don’t care to repeat, that strongly suggests my brother was their murderer. My mind says one thing and my heart says another. So I left to find him. To look in his eyes and ask him what happened in my absence.”

  “And looking for him brought you here?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “He enlisted his name for the crusades over a year ago. I’d only arrived a day ago. Before I could search the encampment, I was sent to battle.”

  “Perhaps he already died,” I said.

  “Perhaps.”

  If his family wasn’t coming, that left his comrades.

  “Rest. Drink the broth if you can. I’ll return in a while.”

  I stood and opened a portal, determined to find out where his help might be. The encampment lay in shambles. I stepped through and the portal closed behind me. Items lay in the sand as if dropped and forgotten. Tents stood open to the wind and desert. Moving forward, I looked inside a few and saw bodies lying on soiled mats, those who had been wounded but managed to return.

  The further I walked into the encampment, the more signs of life I saw. Stacked supplies. Closed tents. Dents in the sand from recent passage. I followed the tracks and found one of the new Immortals, Fintan.

  “Thora,” he said with a tip of his head.

  “Where is everyone?” I asked.

  “The majority have retreated. Those of rank have gone to a ship waiting at the coast. Those with horses have started back on the route we traveled to get here. Disease and famine took many before the battle and the battle took the rest.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Gathering what I can from the supplies that remain for the journey home. There are four others with me.”

  “Immortals?”

  He nodded.

  “I can create a portal for you. Somewhere closer to home.”

  Relief lit his eyes.

  “We tried to create a portal but…”

  “It will come with time and practice. For now, I can help. Are there any humans left? There’s a wounded man on the field with a shrouded destiny. I thought perhaps someone here might be coming for him.”

  “No one that I’ve found still breathing.”

  I frowned. Who then would help Giso?

  “Go get the others,” I said.

  He left me and I walked among the tents, wondering what I could do for the man I’d left behind. The fates were not being kind to him. To take his family and then his chance for truth was cruel. But, the hags were known for that.

  The Immortals returned with their supplies, and I opened a portal to southern Francia in a quiet valley near the mountains.

  “Be well,” I said in farewell as they crossed through.

  Once the portal closed behind them, I created another back to Giso.

  Aud, who’d stayed behind, stood on his chest, watching his breaths with a cocked head. She clacked her beak at me as I studied his pale face.

  “I know. There is no one but us.”
<
br />   I could hardly believe he still lived. Perhaps the Grimnir was right and I only prolonged his end with my aid. Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to walk away. Something about him demanded I stay. That I help.

  “Do I dare tempt the fates so?”

  I sighed, already knowing I would. But, hopefully, not so much as to call the hags’ attention. Which meant no healing runes.

  “Come, Giso,” I said, squatting beside him. “I must see your wound.”

  He didn’t respond.

  Gently lifting his tabard out of the way, my gaze swept over his chest, stomach, hips and legs. There was no injury that I could see. No dent in the mail shirt or tear in the leather leggings.

  “Giso,” I said, stroking his whisker covered cheek to rouse him. “Where are you hurt?”

  His eyes rolled open, and for a moment, I didn’t think he would focus on me.

  “Thora,” he rasped. “Raven.”

  I waved Aud away. She took flight, but didn’t go far.

  “Where are you hurt?” I asked again.

  “Back. Leg.”

  “I’m going to turn you.”

  As soon as I pushed on his right side, he cried out. However, I didn’t let the pity I felt stop me from turning him. Once he lay panting on his stomach, I had a clear view of his injuries. Blood-crusted sand stuck to the wounds. A muddied-red stained the dirty white of his tabard from hem to shoulders. However, fresh blood ran from the gash on his back and his thigh from moving him.

  If I really meant to help him, I could not do so where he lay.

  “We need to leave here so I can tend to you properly,” I said over his groans of pain. “Do not go to sleep.”

  I invoked strength runes and created a portal before lifting him into my arms. He cried out as I shifted his weight onto his back. I made soothing sounds, hating that I was the cause of more pain. His blood coated my forearms as I stepped toward the opening. Aud landed on my shoulder.

  “Breathe, Giso.”

  I stepped through the portal into the middle of the abandoned encampment. The tent with a pile of supplies just outside lay to my right. Aud left my shoulder to roost on the top of the tent.

  Giso groaned in my arms.

  “We are almost there.”

  I pushed the loosely tied tent flap open and found the inside mostly free of sand. A sleeping roll waited near the back wall. I set Giso face down on the mat and smoothed back the hair from his unnaturally cool, damp brow.

  “You did well, Giso. I will be right back. Do not sleep.”

  I wasn’t sure if he heard me or not. Hurrying, I stepped outside the tent, grabbed a water skin and some blankets from the pile of supplies then slipped back inside. With a quick tug of the leather cord, I secured the flap to keep the sand and the cool night breeze out then went to kneel beside Giso.

  “I need to tend to the wound,” I said.

  He remained silent.

  Using a rune on the mail, I separated the links. The heavy metal pieces parted and fell to his side with a rattle, exposing his torn, bloody tunic. I grabbed the material and ripped it wide so I could get to his wound freely. It wasn’t as bad as I’d first thought. Moving to his legs, I cut the leather away. The painfully deep gash would have prevented him from attempting to walk for help.

  Creating a portal to the inside of my log home, I retrieved what was left of the fresh yarrow and some other herbs, a bone needle, plant strands, and a large bladder of clean water. I returned quickly and started cleaning the wounds.

  “Are you still here, Giso?”

  He groaned in response.

  “What color was your wife’s hair?”

  He made a despairing sound.

  “Focus on her, Giso. Her hair. Her eyes. What did you cherish most about her?” I ruthlessly continued my work, washing away bits of sand and dried blood.

  “I can’t remember,” he gasped.

  I rinsed the wounds an extra time and looked closely in the fresh blood for any signs of debris.

  “Think harder. Ignore what I do.”

  “It isn’t the pain stopping the memory, but time. My wife was new to me and our daughter born while I was away.”

  “Then your brother. Tell me more about him.”

  “Otto is five years older than me. We look similar in our hair and eyes, but not the face. His jaw is square and juts forward like my father’s.”

  Since I’d thought Giso’s jaw strongly squared, I couldn’t imagine Otto’s jaw.

  “Did Otto never marry?” I asked, threading the needle.

  “He worked hard and showed very little interest in anything else.”

  Older and working hard at his trade. Yet, Giso was the one who was noticed. I could understand Otto’s resentment, but not as a reason to kill Giso’s wife and new child.

  “That seems an empty life,” I said, creating the first stitch.

  Giso grunted, and I couldn’t be sure if it was in agreement or pain.

  “Do you like mead?” I asked.

  “Yes. A hearty draft would be most welcome right now.”

  I smiled slightly and continued to sew.

  “I have some I will share with you after this. It will help you sleep.”

  Once I had the stitches placed in his thigh and back. I used the herbs to create a poultice and handed him the broth again. He lifted himself enough to remove his arms from the mail, took a drink, and made a face.

  “Not mead.”

  “But good for you. Drink as much as you can. I will return with the mead.”

  Creating a portal, I left him lying on his stomach to fetch the drink. It only took a moment, but when I returned, he already slept.

  Sitting beside him, I looked at the wet and bloody bedroll. When he woke, I would move him to one of the other empty ones. Using the rest of the clean water, I washed what I could of his face and exposed skin, then covered him with a clean blanket.

  I sat with him through the night, dreading each passing hour. So much could happen and I felt like I’d done little to prevent any of it. A fever could grow. The Norns could appear. The natives could raid. He could die. I studied his turned face and wondered why I cared so much?

  Since the moment I saw him, he’d felt important to me. That his life mattered. Why else would he be able to see reapers? To see me?

  Four

  The sun rose hot. When the temperature in the tent started to warm, I runed the material to keep the heat out and let Aud in. She perched on a bedroll and watched Giso, who continued to sleep comfortably. I lifted the blanket to check his wounds. The skin around the poultice looked a healthy pink and was comfortably cool to the touch. Knowing I would need to sleep soon, I runed the tent once more, this time to keep anything dangerous out.

  Taking a bedroll close to Giso, I closed my eyes. Dreams of dark seas and stormy skies plagued me. I walked along the beach, drenched and wind-beaten as I searched for something I’d lost. The feeling that what I was missing was right there consumed me.

  “Thora.”

  The familiar voice sounded distant and odd.

  “Thora.”

  I blinked my eyes open and met Giso’s worried gaze from the mat next to me. He still lay on his stomach, but had turned his head my direction. His warm brown eyes skimmed over my face with a hint of concern.

  “What were you dreaming?” he asked.

  “Dark skies and stormy seas. Neither a good omen where I’m from.”

  “I heard voices outside the tent,” he said.

  I stood quickly and went to the opening. Aud’s wings beat loudly a moment before she settled on my shoulder. Slowly, I eased the flap to the side.

  Defenders walked among the tents, searching for the living and looting for supplies. I quickly dropped the flap and returned to Giso. Aud returned to her place to watch us.

  “What did you see?” he asked.

  “Men searching the tents, collecting anything of value.”

  “Then we must go.” He started to roll to his side. The mail, w
hich I hadn’t tried to pull from under him, shifted and rattled.

  “Not yet. We are safe here for a while longer. Rest. Heal. We will leave tonight when the sands are cool.”

  He eased himself back onto his stomach.

  “Would you like me to remove the mail from under you?”

  “Yes. What’s left of the tunic, too.”

  “I’m sorry I had to tear it,” I said, reaching for the mail.

  He lifted himself slightly, and I pulled the material from under him. Shifting his weight to his belly once more, he lifted his arms so I could free him from what was left of his linen tunic.

  “I’ll see if I can find more clothing for you,” I said, standing.

  “It’s not safe.”

  “I will be well. No one will even see me. And you will be safe as long as you stay in this tent.”

  I went to the flap and peeked out again.

  “They are gone for now. I will only be a moment.”

  I stepped outside and looked through the pile of supplies that still remained by the tent. There were several long tunics, but no hose. Taking one from the top, I brought it inside.

  “Not so long, heh?” I said with a grin. Then I held up the tunic. “It should fit.”

  “It will be fine.” He lifted the skin of broth and drained it.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Thirsty.”

  Thirst was good but hunger would be better.

  “Rest. We have several more hours before the sun sets. I’ll change your poultice before you dress.”

  He closed his eyes and fell asleep again. I’d rested enough that I remained awake and listened for more defenders. We needed to leave before they started disassembling the tents around us.

  When dusk fell, I woke Giso.

  “Are you well enough to stand?”

  “Yes.” He eased himself to his side and then rolled to the hip opposite his stitched thigh. The muscles in his chest moved as he leveraged himself onto his knees then stood. His hose, his only covering, hung in shreds on his damaged leg.

  “It’s not proper to see me undressed,” he said.

  “But you’re not undressed. You still have your hose,” I said, shamelessly inspecting his toned chest. A light dusting of dark hair circled his nipples, thinned as it traveled down toward his bellybutton, then grew denser toward the top of his hose.