After the Fall (Raud Grima Book 2)

by Sophia Martin

  “Well, you have created a strange situation for yourself,” she said at last.

  “Surely she’s not a chosen of Luka, as well?” Gerdir said.

  The high vigjadis released my eyes and turned to the others. “I’ve not known such a situation in my lifetime. I cannot be certain without more study. We must keep you here, Ginna, and your friend may stay as well. I must consult my library and pray, and we must meditate on this together,” she said to me. “Are you agreeable to that?”

  I glanced at Ivarr, but he gave me an encouraging look, so I nodded.

  “Very well,” the high vigjadis said.

  I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable-like. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I want to thank you, but I don’t know what to call you.”

  “You call her ‘High Vigjadis,’ or ‘High Mother’!” the vigjadis from the entry way burst out, though she’d said nowt else all this time. I’d a sense her job was schooling the young ones, and no mistake.

  “There now, Spaka. We shall spend a great deal of time together, Ginna and I. It’s best she have a name for me, don’t you think?”

  Spaka frowned but held her tongue.

  “You may call me Arinnrún,” the high vigjadis said, and everyone, even Ivarr, gasped.

  “Surely, High Mother, you cannot mean her to address you without an honourific—” Spaka said.

  Arinnrún sighed. “I mean that very thing, Spaka,” she replied. “I expect you’ve no objections to my decision?”

  Oh, Spaka had some objections, sure enough, and I seen her war with them, her face a grimace. But she said nowt more, nor did anyone else.

  I was fair honoured that the high vigjadis’d seen fit to give me her name and such, but what I really wanted to know now was what relation Gerdir was to my Amma. And when Arinnrún told her to escort us to free rooms in the living quarters, I thought my chance’d dropped right in my lap. Course, that’s when a bell started ringing, loud so’s the walls shook with it. Two of the novices let out squeals, and everyone looked round as if the reason for the alarm would be obvious if they just turned the right way. Ivarr and me got to our feet, quick-like, for an alarm is never a happy omen.

  After only a minute of this, two more novices, both girls, burst into the kitchen.

  “The city’s under attack!” one of them shouted, and it was plain to see they were both panicked.

  As if to confirm what they’d said, a great thunder hit us, shaking the floor.

  “The planes!” the other novice cried. “They’re bombing us!”

  “To the cellar!” Arinnrún said, sharp-like and in control. “Now! Everyone but Gerdir and Spaka. You’ll comb through the temple—the west wing is yours, Spaka. Gerdir, take the east. I’ll take the rest. Erna, see that everyone here goes directly to the cellar!”

  But I’d no intention of going to their cellar. First off, being underground isn’t the protection you might expect during a bombing—and besides, I couldn’t hide here and wait out this attack when Rokja, Mum, and Amma were on the other side of the city, never mind I no longer lived with them.

  “Thank you,” I said, even as Arinnrún, Gerdir and Spaka were on their way out the door. “Ivarr, you’re welcome to stay, but as for me, I’ve got to get home.”

  “You’re mad!” Heidir cried. “You can’t go out there! Didn’t you hear what she said? There’s a plane! We’re being bombed!”

  “I heard,” I said. “Begging your pardon, but I expect it’s just as safe on the outside as in, and I’ll see any plane coming, won’t I?”

  “The cellar’s reinforced against bombings!” Heidir said. “We prepared—in case this should happen. Vigjadis, tell her she must stay!”

  Erna was still in her grief, and she looked from Heidir to me without much energy. I’d have no fight from her, if I chose to leave.

  “Look, we’re grateful to you for offering us shelter,” Ivarr said, “but Ginna’s got family she needs to get back to.”

  My throat closed at that—for he’d read my fear like an open page. He knew me that well?

  I took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “You should stay,” I told him quiet-like.

  He shook his head. “I’m safer with you. You’re likely to pull that damn plane right out of the sky.”

  A laugh broke from me ’fore I even felt it. He squeezed my hand back and gave me a nod.

  “Right, then,” I said. I looked at Erna. “I’m sorry about your sister. And please tell the high vigjadis I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

  But I didn’t say when that would be, for I was fair certain it’d not be any time soon. Leika-Konungdis was here and everything was going to change in Helésey.

  I weren’t wrong about that.

  Part 3: Ginna’s Survival

  I’d thought crossing Midborghá was hard before, but that was nothing compared to crossing it with planes overheard trying to turn the rubble into dust. I counted six of them, and though they never all converged on the part of the city where we were all at once, just having one overhead was more’n enough.

  Many a time as a bomb hit not far off either me or Ivarr’d lose our footing and fall, and more’n once we hurt ourselves or found ourselves in some spot it weren’t so easy to climb out of. Thinking back, it was a piece of foolery, trying to cross the city to reach Rokja and the others. Still, I don’t suppose I’d do it any different, for I was in a ripping panic to get back to them. Ivarr never complained though he bled from several cuts and collected an even larger share of bruises.

  Night come, but on account of the fires the bombs caused, the sky was lit from the flames. It weren’t dark so much as smoky in some places. My only relief was that we’d little chance of running into slashers, for no doubt they’d all be hiding, though if you’d asked me about it then I’d have told you any slasher what got in my way deserved everything Freyja and Luka could give him through me, and no mistake.

  Then all of a sudden a plane what was flying over us changed direction. I expected it to drop a bomb or two as it did, but nothing came. We could see more of the planes heading in the same direction. After a moment’s consideration I was fair certain they were headed east to the mainland. They were done.

  I took another hour at least to reach the entrance to the Undergrunnsby closest to Mosstown. I could tell none of the streets nearby’d got damaged, and I started to breathe again. Ivarr and I made our way down and found the shantytown dead quiet. Everyone was inside, hiding from the planes and owt else what might be coming along with them. Which weren’t something I’d given much thought to ’til that moment, and then of course I started worrying about it too. Would the konungdis send ships next? Would there be an invasion?

  Until that thought seized me, I’d had only one goal: to reach Rokja, Mum and Amma—and Kisla, though I hadn’t given a thought to her in ages for she’d her man to look after her—to make sure they were safe. I’d no plan for what to do if they weren’t. But with the possibility of an invasion coming, all of a sudden I needed somewhere to take them, somewhere safe. And I knew of nowhere in the city what could be any safer’n where they already were. I thought of the Machine, for it was made of metal and if the street got destroyed in a blast, I thought it fair certain the Machine wouldn’t suffer, even if everything above it come down on it. But then you’d be buried, sure enough, and what could you do? Hope to dig yourself out?

  What I needed more’n anything was to get them away from Helésey ’fore Leika’s invasion forces arrived.

  I glanced at Ivarr as we walked through the silent, dark shantytown towards my home. Ivarr served on Gaddi’s ship, and a ship could take my family far from Helésey, and no mistake. But Ivarr’d no call as to what passengers Gaddi would take, and I suspected Gaddi’d no interest in passengers at all. What could I offer Gaddi that’d make him change his mind? All I had that Gaddi wanted was my body, but he’d never give me and my family passage on his boat in exchange for a tumble or two.

  We come to my shanty then and I hesitated, for I�
�d never brought Ivarr home before this. But there was no sense letting my pride complicate things now. Considering what Ivarr’d already gone through with me, I doubted the sight of Amma’s washing hanging about would put him off, if seeing me murder a half dozen slashers hadn’t.

  Sometimes I thought Amma must be right about the Gods having a laugh at our expense.

  I opened the door and we ducked in under the damp sheets. “Amma?” I called. “Rokja?”

  There come a scuffling and low protests, and after a moment Rokja burst from the washroom and about knocked me over when she hit. I hugged her back, feeling the strong, small body and inhaling the scent of her hair, like apples and toasted bread—but then like so many times when I come home after whoring, I pushed her away. This time it weren’t the smell of johns I feared, but the blood still caked on my clothes in spots. There weren’t but two lamps lit, though, so I hoped she’d not see.

  “I was so afraid,” Rokja said, who only held herself back from grabbing me again on account of she’d noticed Ivarr and it made her a bit shy. “I thought you’d been killed in a blast.”

  Amma emerged from the washroom then, followed by Mum. Amma crossed her arms and just looked from me to Ivarr and back, but Mum stumbled forward and reached for my hand.

  “Oh, Frigga’s mercy,” Mum said, and it was clear enough she’d been out of her head with panic. “You’re home!”

  “Where’s Gram?” I asked. I expected Amma to nod to the bedroom, or Rokja to say something about him sleeping, but Amma looked down and Rokja’s face twisted. My stomach dipped. I turned my eyes on Mum. “Where’s Gram?”

  Mum dabbed her eyes with the edge of her sleeve. “Oh, Ginna. It’s such a shame.”

  “What? What’s a shame?” I demanded.

  Mum started blarting then, and she was always worse’n useless when she cried, for you could never get two words out of her what made any sort of sense. I turned to Amma.

  “What happened to Gram?”

  Amma sighed. “I told he wouldn’t make it, Ginna-my-girl. You know I did,” she said.

  All of a sudden it was just too much. Not just Gram dying while I was away, gone ’fore I could say good bye—not just Amma sending me off to begin with, so that very thing was inevitable—but the woman at the temple what looked just like her—all the lying and secrets that spoke of. And all the rage Arinnrún’d managed to send to sleep rushed up, and it was pointed at Amma.

  Ivarr seen and I felt his hands lock on my arms. I heard nowt but the roar of the rage in my ears. My vision was blood-red. I could feel him dragging at me, though I knew I could break his hold. I knew I could strike him down and turn on Amma. I could punish her then if I liked.

  Except that in that moment, Amma’s eyes changed. I was looking right at her, this old, thin woman—who was strong as an oak though she looked weak as a sapling—with her white hair tied back tight from her face—and her eyes changed. A shift when through them—I’ve no other word, and they begun to glow. Through the red of my own vision, I couldn’t tell you if they glowed red as well, or gold, or another colour, but they gave off light, there weren’t no mistake.

  “Luka’s Chains,” Ivarr gasped, and since I’d slackened at the sight, he pulled me from the shanty without too much trouble after that. In fact the anger I felt drained away with the sight of Amma’s eyes.

  “I guess it runs in the family,” he said, and kept moving me along ’til we were several tunnels away from Mosstown.

  ~~~

  The weight of Amma’s secrets kept my rage buried deep, for they troubled me fierce without angering me no more. It was more like a sorrow, this new ken that Amma was so much more’n I’d ever realized, and had such a history as I’d no chance of guessing at.

  “I bet she used to be a vigjadis,” Ivarr said later when he’d found us an empty flat and built a fire. The nights were getting colder, and this one though it was more’n halfway done was the worst yet. I huddled close to the flames, though it weren’t so much the cold what made me shiver as the shock of it all. The mural in Freyja’s temple. Seeing them vigjadises, two so familiar each in her own way. Realizing why I’d been god-touched. The planes and the bombs. The threat of invasion, so much nearer now somehow than when Styrlakker’d spoken of it. Gram’s death. But most of all, Amma.

  “Of Freyja, you think?” I answered him.

  Ivarr shrugged. He sat near me, looking at the fire and feeding it bits of smashed windowsill. “Seems most likely. If I had to bet, I’d go with Freyja, and she probably started out like… was her name Emba?”

  “Embla.”

  “Right. Just visions and things like that.”

  “Started out?”

  “Her eyes were red. The vigjadises didn’t seem to think that was normal.”

  “They were red,” I echoed.

  “You didn’t see?”

  “I seen that they glowed, but I was seeing red myself, you know.”

  Ivarr considered this for a moment.

  At last he spoke again, “What it sounded like to me, at the Temple, was your particular condition is a combination of Freyja’s and Luka’s influence.”

  I nodded. “That’s what I reckoned as well.”

  “The high vigjadis said she hadn’t encountered anything like that in her lifetime, but she was a good deal younger than your Amma. Probably about forty.”

  It seemed young for a high vigjadis, but who knew how many the temple’d lost during Eiflar’s purges, and after when the city fell. Course, Spaka and Gerdir’d both been older, by my guess. Seemed like one of them’d be a better choice for high vigjadis, on account of their age and experience. Though I supposed there was more to choosing a high vigjadis, and I sure didn’t know what went into it.

  “How old is your Amma?” Ivarr asked, still looking thoughtful.

  I considered this, for I’d no idea of the year of her birth, but I reckoned I might tease out the answer, or close to it, with a bit of thought. “She always said she had my Da when she was older’n most mothers, and I always thought he was her only child. She had my Da when she was near forty, I reckon, and my Da was only thirty-five when he died, which was some ten years since.” I sighed. “So that’d make her about eighty-five.”

  “Eighty-five,” Ivarr muttered.

  I chewed on the number. I’d never given it much thought before, and I’d have guessed she was a fair bit younger’n that. But among the revelations surrounding Amma, this one was the least to have to digest.

  Gerdir’s face come to mind. I said, “I wonder if maybe that vigjadis in Freyja’s temple weren’t hers as well.”

  “You mean her daughter?” Ivarr nodded. “I saw the resemblance.”

  “My Da was younger’n that vigjadis,” I said. “So if we think she’s Amma’s daughter, and we reckon her age as…”

  “I’d have to say mid-fifties.”

  “So some fifty-five years ago, Amma would’ve had her.”

  Ivarr nodded again. “I was thinking the same thing. She would have been thirty.”

  “Right enough.”

  “So my guess is,” Ivarr said slowly, “is that she had her daughter in the temple, but sometime between then and the birth of your father, she left the temple.”

  “And if the high vigjadis is forty, she’d have been born long after whatever event made Amma leave the order.”

  “Yeah,” Ivarr said. “It could have happened, say, around the time your Amma turned thirty-five, and—”

  His words struck me, and I must’ve gasped, for he stopped half through his sentence.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You don’t think she got the—the trouble I’m having—when she was thirty-five?” I breathed, for I’d remembered something, and it brought up a whole new set of questions that turned everything bottom-to-top all over again.

  Ivarr frowned. “Well, that’s what it sounds like to me. I mean, probably everything was fine with her up until something happened that made her leave the temple. And it seem
s likely that the something was this… god-touched thing.”

  “And my Da, all-of-a-sudden-like, decides to take to the sea when he turned thirty-five.”

  Ivarr blinked. After a moment’s silence, he said, “Ginna, I don’t think it means your father had the same thing happen to him—I mean, you’re not thirty-five, you’re only twenty, after all.”

  I dropped my face in my hands. Beside me, I could feel Ivarr sitting still as a robot, waiting to see which way I went. Would he comfort a babe or calm a madwoman? I wanted to curse the Gods then for their twisted humor.

  “She said it was too soon,” I muttered through my hands.

  “I didn’t hear you,” Ivarr said in his most neutral voice.

  I raised my face, only just a bit, and looked at him so’s he could see my eyes were normal. “I said, Amma said it was too soon.”

  “She said what was too soon?”

  “The first time she seen my eyes,” I said, turning my gaze to the fire. I watched the flames dance and flicker. The fire was small, but the warmth of it was a comfort all the same. I told myself to enjoy the feel of it, and try not to think too hard about everything what’s come to light, for if I’d been in fear of losing my mind before, I felt sure it was slipping now.

  After a few more minutes of silence, Ivarr said, “So you think this runs in the family.”

  I nodded, still staring at the blaze.

  “But what about Emba?”

  “Embla,” I corrected him absently.

  “Right. What about her? She didn’t look anything like Amma.”

  I sighed. “She must be related somehow. I don’t know how, but she must.” And I thought back to Gerdir’s hands on Erna’s shoulders. “How old was Erna, would you say?”

  “Maybe early thirties.”

  “I’d have said late thirties.” I looked at him then, waiting to see if he put it together as I’d done.