“Doubtful. They can traverse time, but Gilla hid you all so well. It would take them eons to find exactly where you landed. More likely they wait until you come back together to conquer them.”
“Then if we stay apart, stay hidden, the temporal web you talk about should be safe,” Merewin said matter-of-factly. “No need for this ‘find yer soul mate’ nonsense.”
Drakkina shook her head, causing the dragonflies that had landed on her silvery hair to alight. “The demons grow stronger as they learn more about your father’s powers. Eventually they will learn to shatter the web. I need all of Gilla’s children and their soul mates to stop them.”
Merewin stared out into the empty space in the room, while all the information filtered through her mind. Absently she asked, “and my sisters? They are well?”
“I’ve only tracked down you and Serena so far. Serena and her husband just had their first baby, a little boy they named William.”
Merewin smiled. “A baby boy?” Merewin sat down on the edge of her small bed. “I would like to see them.”
Drakkina’s image faded a bit. “They will not live for another nine hundred years.” Drakkina shrugged. “Perhaps we can manage a visit after you and Hauk are married.”
“The bloody hell I’ll marry the...” Merewin began.
Hauk barged into the cottage, his body walking through Drakkina’s form. He stood still, his battleaxe hefted and ready to strike. Merewin watched with wide eyes as the wisps of Drakkina dissipated like smoke. Hauk shook himself, and Merewin noticed gooseflesh all along his bare arms.
“Someone is here.” He looked around. His blue gaze turned back to Merewin. “Who is in here with you?”
“Bela,” she said softly. “Only me and Bela.”
“Who were you talking to?”
“Ye listened?”
“Who, Merewin?”
Merewin pointed at her little pet that sniffed around Hauk’s leather boots. “I spoke to Bela.”
Hauk eyed her pet suspiciously.
“You were having a conversation.”
“Did you hear another voice besides mine?”
He frowned, “I’m not certain.”
“Then I must have been speaking to Bela,” she said as if reaching a conclusion.
Two strides led him to where she stood by the bed. His massive frame obscured the rest of the cottage from her sight. His knees brushed her legs as he loomed. The man’s mass should have frightened her, and her heart did start to race. But it wasn’t fear that rushed through her blood. Excitement perhaps? A preparation for battle?
“You are not a good liar, Merewin. Who did you speak with?”
Merewin huffed, sat abruptly and leaned back on her hands so that she stared up at him, letting her hair fall behind her to pool on the bed. “Very well then, I was speaking with the spirit of a great Wiccan priestess whose body faded into mist when ye barged through her.” She paused and stared. “She’s here to save the world, and she’s the one who manipulated events so that ye would come to find me.”
She left out the part about them being soul mates. It didn’t seem like the right moment to mention it. “Oh, and she says ye smell nice,” Merewin added with a sarcastic lilt to her voice. She took in a long, exaggerated sniff. Surprisingly, he did smell pleasant, like fresh water and mint mixed with leather.
He continued to stare, brow furrowed.
“Actually ye do smell good. Why is that?”
His words came slowly as if his mind churned something completely different. “My mother had an aversion to the smell of humanity. She taught us to bathe every day and freshen our breath by chewing mint that she grew.” He paused. “A Wiccan priestess?”
“Aye,” she answered. “I chew mint when I have an upset stomach.” She continued in her half horizontal position to stare up at him while he held her gaze staring down.
“And she just appeared here and then vanished?” he asked. “When I walked through her?”
Merewin nodded. “Magick,” she whispered and smiled mischievously.
Hauk snorted and spun on his heel. “We leave now. Follow me or I will carry you.”
Merewin breathed deeply to slow her racing heart. Was it wise to bait a barbarian? He had promised not to take what wasn’t given, but she’d be wise to not tempt his word. Merewin grabbed her bag and wool cloak and followed him out the door. She wouldn’t stand the humiliation of being carried.
Bela jumped on her skirts, skittered up her body, and curled into a ball at the nape of her neck.
Back in the village, the full contingent of Vikings waited to march back to their dragonship by the sea. Most of the homes remained barred. Nervous eyes peeked out of an occasional crack.
Merewin walked stiffly along the line of men, her chin held high. She would never let them see fear in her, nor the sadness she felt at leaving the closest thing she had to a home. Perhaps Drakkina was right in that she didn’t fit in here, but it was familiar. Even if she didn’t feel kinship with these people, she was content with them. They revered her healing powers, and now they watched through cracks at her humiliation as the raiders led her away. At least Hauk had allowed her to walk on her own.
The Vikings carried treasures from the king’s stronghold, gold and silver plates and drinking goblets, jewelry and fine cloth. Merewin stepped in line with the rest of the treasure.
As she turned to follow the path down to the sea, she heard a door bang open and a startled cry. She looked back to see Kendal’s son sprinting toward her, Kendal racing after him, the boy’s mother anxious in the doorway. Merewin turned and Kendal’s son jumped in front.
“Ye need to go back to yer home, Garrett.”
“I will,” he said and swallowed nervously as his gaze wandered down the line of frowning warriors. “They are taking ye away?”
Hauk walked up near them, but he wouldn’t be able to understand the youth’s words, only hers.
“Aye,” she said calmly. “They have someone who needs my healing, a king in fact.”
Garrett raised his eyebrows. “So they did come for ye.”
“So it seems.”
Garrett held out a small bag. “I gathered these for ye to take...when I heard.”
Merewin took the bag and spilled small, capped acorns into her open palm. “Acorns?”
“From around yer cottage. In case there are no great oaks where they take ye. I thought ye could plant these and one day have yer own grove, just like back here.”
Merewin felt tears burn behind her eyes. She drew a ragged, deep breath before she could find her voice and smiled past the blurred vision. “I thank ye, Garrett. I have never received such a thoughtful gift before.”
He blushed.
Merewin tucked the precious gift into her bag while Garrett jogged back to his family. What sadness to realize that she did have friends here, only when it came time to leave. Merewin turned back to the path, tilted her chin upwards so the tears could not flow out of her eyes. They would just have to run down the back of her throat. The taste of regret was bitter.
Hauk watched Merewin’s straight back as she walked ahead of him. Those had been tears in her eyes, he was certain. He glanced back at the boy. Hauk had thought she had no family here, as she lived all alone in the woods. His strides easily caught up.
“Acorns?” he asked.
She stared straight ahead, trudging on, step after step. “To start my own grove of oaks where ye take me, so I can have a little bit of my home with me.”
Her voice sounded strong, until the end where it dipped just enough to give her away.
“Ye grieve leaving here?”
Merewin snapped her watery gaze up to him. “Aye,” she said as if challenging him, then turned back to the path ahead.
“Then we will plant them when we reach Denmark,” he said with a nod and walked up ahead, leaving her behind to grieve in privacy.
****
It would take a day and a half to cross the sea to Denmark if the wind st
ayed with them. Hauk watched Merewin where she sat clasping her seat at the dragon prowhead of the ship. He stood at the tiller in the stern, steadying the massive back oar that controlled the direction of the ship. They flew along the waves a few degrees off due east as the wind filled the rectangular, striped sail. His men sat relaxed, joking and polishing their treasures. When the wind died down, which she always did, they would row. But now they rested.
Gamal stood beside him. “You took no treasure for yourself?”
“Nay, I have no need,” Hauk answered, his gaze followed the snapping ends of Merewin’s golden brown hair. She had been right. There were gold strands like honey woven into the deep brown mix.
Gamal laughed. “There is always a need for treasure, friend.” Gamal handed him a delicate gold chain. “For Dalla then. You know women always want a little gift to make up for your absence.”
Hauk smiled wryly at Gamal. “Thank you. How could I forget little Dalla.”
Gamal laughed out loud. “How indeed. She has a bit of Loki in her heart I fear.” It would have been an insult from anyone else, but Gamal’s easy smile and true affection for his niece made the truth easier to swallow. Hauk nodded. “Aye, she has spirit.” They were silent for a moment.
Merewin kept her face to the brisk wind. She would burn her delicate skin that way if she weren’t careful.
Gamal spoke softly. “Perhaps your mind rests on someone closer at hand?”
“She is but a mission, Gamal,” Hauk said without thought.
“Hmm...” Gamal stared at Merewin’s straight back. “A nicely displayed mission.”
Hauk turned narrowed eyes to Gamal. The man was, after all, married to Hauk’s pregnant sister. But only laughter lurked in Gamal’s gaze, no lust or wandering thoughts.
“Of course nothing is more beautiful than my Bera,” Gamal countered Hauk’s glare.
Hauk grunted and turned back to the view. “She will freeze up there, or burn her face in the wind,” Hauk said. “Take some furs up there. Warn her of the risk.”
Gamal grabbed some pelts and kicked at the outstretched legs of the crew as he walked to Merewin.
Hauk watched as Gamal stood with her, totally at ease. She even turned to smile at him.
Gamal was completely in love with his sister and therefore safe. Still, Hauk frowned. Merewin would never offer him a relaxed smile like that.
Gamal helped her wrap several long stitched furs around her, tucking in her hair and bringing the covering up around her face. Although much of her was covered up from his view, she was now protected. After all it was his duty to protect her, to bring her safely to Ragnar. Why else would he be concerned with her comfort or the leers of his men?
Just as Hauk had predicted, the wind died on the second day. Stagnation sat upon the water warning of a possible storm ahead. The men took up their oars and rowed.
Life on a longship was cramped, cold, and often treacherous. Hauk didn’t mind the discomfort, for he had grown up alongside his father and brothers on the narrow deck of ships. However, for a woman used to earth beneath her feet, and quite a bit of solitude and privacy, the trip must be distressing. Which is what Hauk reminded himself of again when Merewin snapped at one of his men for coming too close. In fact, most of the men seemed to hover toward the stern of the ship when they weren’t tied to their oars. Away from Merewin. She might be slight, but her tongue and cold stare could slice through a warrior. Hauk smiled as even Gamal made a hasty retreat.
Hauk ordered them to stop when the mist off the ocean obscured the fading glow of the setting sun. Clouds covered the expanse of sky shielding the stars. Without stars or sun, there would be no way to navigate. Hauk frowned as he sucked in the heavy air. Aye, a storm was growing. He glanced toward the prowhead where Merewin leaned against the side of the boat. He would rather keep moving and reach shore by dawn.
Gamal and his cousin, Svein, walked up to Hauk while the others dispersed with rations of cooked venison, bread and vegetables prepared in Northumbria. Hauk listened to Gamal and Svein complain about the fog while the last threads of light showed Merewin nibbling some bread and cheese. He turned to the men. “I feel a storm growing, the heaviness in the air.”
“But we cannot row in this,” Svein said, waving his hands before his face, swirling the mist.
“There’s nothing to guide us,” Gamal agreed.
In the still water, over the sound of men chewing, Merewin’s voice seemed to float in on the moving fog. “I can guide ye.”
Hauk detected movement in the darkness as she walked out of the mist as if floating along the deck, her leather boots soundless.
She stopped directly in front of him and looked up, her face framed by fur. “I always know where west is.” She raised her arm straight and pointed behind. “West.” She windmilled an arm forward to point in the opposite direction. “So that would be east. If ye want to travel slightly south of that…” She moved her finger a few degrees right of where she pointed.
They stared at her in the darkness.
When no one spoke, she lowered her hand. “Or we can sit here waiting for the sun.” She turned to head back to the prowhead.
“How do you know where west lies?” Hauk asked.
She stopped and turned. “Magick.”
Hauk snorted loudly and several men laughed around their food. She taunted him with that word. Would she if she knew his past?
Merewin turned away and began to melt back into the dark mist.
“Wait,” Gamal said and turned to Hauk. “I feel a storm, too. If she can help…”
“By steering us all over the sea?” Hauk finished. He would not be made a fool of again.
Gamal lowered his voice. “Hauk, I know you hate magick in any sense, don’t trust it. If I were you, I wouldn’t either. But she healed my head somehow. I don’t know the how of it, but I know that I was hurt, and now I’m not. Perhaps she knows something that will help us.”
Hauk looked back where Merewin stood near the central mast. “And if you know how to steer us, what stops you from steering us back to Northumbria?”
“Actually I thought of that,” she said staring back. “But once we arrived, I would just have to go through this miserable voyage all over again from the beginning. Nay, I want to get off this freezing, rocking log.” The men laughed, several quite loud, but she ignored them. “Even if that means we’re in Denmark. As long as my feet touch earth.”
Hauk saw a bit of the fur around her face move as her weasel stuck its nose in the air. It chattered and hissed as if agreeing. “Fine, woman, prove your powers,” Hauk said and handed the tiller off to Gamal. “You will tell Gamal how to steer just south of east.” As she walked up past him, her arm brushed his. He felt the contact course down into the pit of his hard stomach.
Hauk looked to Gamal. “I row,” he growled, not caring how bad-tempered he sounded, and found a seat far from Merewin’s softly directing voice.
The dead calm followed them through the night. The fog rose off the surface of the water, as if the water breathed smoke. Hauk worked his muscles, conditioned from long rows, through the black of night. Usually though there were stars glittering overhead, a gentle breeze to wick the sweat from his brow, strong voices belting out rhythmic songs of conquest. But not tonight. Hauk knew they were moving, but the sensation of being suspended in an eternal otherworldly cloud was chilling.
The men felt it, too. Their silence, broken only by the slice of the oars through the water in time to the steady drumbeat, added to the unnatural feel. It was nights like this that spurred tales of serpents and falling off the edge of the world.
Merewin’s voice floated to him, correcting Gamal at the tiller every so often. If it weren’t for the feel of a storm, he would have anchored for the night, waiting for the edge of the sun to guide them from a horizon. But a storm at sea in the black of night meant death. So there was no option but to blindly row, hopefully toward land. Hauk frowned.
A rotation of two men b
egan and proceeded through the night, allowing two at a time to rest their muscles and capture a few minutes of sleep. His turn at rest came hours later. He passed the oar to Svein, stretched his arms overhead, and walked back to the tiller. Merewin sat on a box of treasure, eyes half closed. He almost thought her asleep but she pointed slightly to the left and the tillerman pushed the tiller a bit in response.
Merewin looked drained, like one of Dalla’s woolen dolls that couldn’t sit exactly upright without a spine. Exhaustion shrouded her like the mirky fog. He knew she hadn’t slept much the night before they left. Although he had allowed her to stay in her cottage after tending and rewrapping his arm, he had heard her throughout the night, pacing across the wooden floor.
She had slept fitfully at the prowhead last night, and now she forced herself to stay awake as their guide throughout another night. A mere woman couldn’t possibly be that strong.
“Merewin, take your leave,” he said. She didn’t respond. He bent down so his face was level with hers. “You’ll lose consciousness from fatigue. We all must rest; so must you.”
She didn’t bother to open eyes. “And let ye row off course, not while there is breath left in me. I want to touch land again.”
He smiled and clapped his hand over her knee, engulfing it. She opened her eyes more. “You will touch land again Merewin. I will hold the tiller steady while you rest for half an hour.”
She frowned at him. “If I wake to find myself on the shores of Mercia, I’m staying there.”
“I agree with your terms, woman.” He helped her stand, and she followed him to the tiller where she confirmed his course before curling up on the deck behind him. He heard her even breaths within seconds. Hauk strapped the tiller to the side of the ship to keep it straight and steady as the waves began to swell. He looked up to where the sky should be and watched the swirl of mist moving, no longer stagnant. A breeze picked up. Aye, she would need her rest, for the storm barreled closer. He peered out through the lightening fog. Somewhere out there Denmark waited.
Fog tricked the senses at dawn. It was hard to distinguish the rising sun through the murk, but the blackness melted gradually to gray. Hauk turned in each direction, watching the spot where the sea should meet the sky. Which direction lightened quicker? It should be the one nearly before him if their course were true. The swells chopped against the sides of the boat. By the gods, let it rise in front of him. Show him he faced east. The ship pitched and heaved in the increasing waves.
Magick (The Dragonfly Chronicles Book 2) Page 6