Corpse in the Mead Hall

by Cate Martin

  I felt Thorbjorn's weight shift behind me as he dropped into a defensive stance. Then I saw them too: a number of squat, green figures emerging from the trees.

  Not from between the trees, mind you. They were stepping out of the trunks themselves.

  They all appeared to be women, mature women, but not yet crones. Their hair was a dark, pine green, their clothes a more mossy shade of green, and their skin a softer green like the first shoots of delicate herb. They stood little taller than the dwarves, but were not quite as thick-muscled and barrel-chested as they. But they were certainly sturdy enough, with rolling hips and heavy arms. They weren't young, lithe, or particularly pretty, like the Greek dryads always appeared in the illustrations in mythology books. No, their faces were all solemn and deeply lined, but they did have a noble sort of beauty to them.

  They all closed in around us as a group, and I wasn't sure who I should direct my attention to. They didn't seem to have a particular leader. So I looked from one to the next as I said, "I owe you a debt. I'm sure the Wild Hunt would've taken me last night if I hadn't found refuge inside that tree. And I never could've gotten inside on my own. Thank you, all."

  "It was the thing to be done," one of them said, her voice deep but still womanly.

  "Do you have to do such things often?" I asked.

  "We like to help when we can," another said.

  "I appreciate it," I said. There was a lull while I tried to decide what to say next. They all watched me patiently with gently eager eyes but said nothing themselves. "Tell me, why do they call you moss-wives? Is it because you have no men?"

  "That is not what we call ourselves," one of them said.

  "That is the name the woodcutters gave to us," said another.

  "Sometimes one of our number chooses to go home with a human man who passed through our grove," said a third. "Not often, not for centuries now, but sometimes."

  "It was they who gave us the name moss-wives," said a fourth.

  Their tone was so modulated I couldn't tell whether they found the name offensive or not. They were merely stating facts, I guessed.

  They hadn't told me what they called themselves. It felt like that omission had been deliberate.

  "I suppose there have never been many woodcutters here in these woods," I said. "Did you choose to come here to this world, or were you pulled along by my ancestress' magic?"

  "Your predecessor Torfa did indeed have staggeringly great power," one of them said. "Some of us remember her, although we were but children at the time."

  I nearly gasped aloud at that. Torfa had brought her village to the North Shore from an island off the coast of Norway nearly eleven centuries ago.

  "This has always been our place, our grove," another said. "How our place moved here, we do not know. But moved we have. We no longer see our old friends from our old home. They no longer pass through our grove."

  "I'm sorry about that," I said. "But what about the dwarves? They aren't so very far away. Aren't they your friends?"

  "They never stroll through the woods if they can help it," one of them said, and there was a hint of laughter in her voice.

  "And have no need to," another said. "They always remain in their city under the mountain. It is for others to go to them."

  "Every world has a cave that leads to the city under the mountain," a third said. "It is only a matter of finding it, if one wishes to visit the dwarves. We are happy in our grove. We have no need for cities."

  "It is lovely here," I said. The trees were taller just around the clearing where we stood, like the support pillars inside a cathedral where the sky itself was the beautifully decorated ceiling. And there was such a feeling of warm acceptance, although perhaps that was emanating from the women all around me. "May I ask you about the Wild Hunt?"

  "We know the old stories are not true," Thorbjorn added. "We know you are not bringing it here."

  "No, those stories are not true. We do not scout victims for the Hunt," one of them said.

  "For the Wild Hunt to ride through the same forest twice in two nights is a very bad thing," another said.

  "Unusual?" I asked.

  "Very," one said,

  "We have been lucky so far," another said. "None of our number has been carried away."

  "Yet," a third added ominously.

  "You think it will come again?" I asked.

  "We fear it."

  "It draws ever closer to our grove."

  "We have so little defense."

  "What do you mean?" I asked. "Don't your trees keep you safe? Like that tree last night kept me safe?"

  "They do, but not so well as the walls of a human house. One that has been infused with slow magic over many generations. We have nothing like that. It is so long for us, the time between generations."

  I had all sorts of questions about how they reproduced, and why I saw no children among them now, or even women who looked young enough to have them.

  But the sun was too low in the sky for me to entertain any of them now.

  "Something is calling the Wild Hunt," I said. Thorbjorn sucked in a breath but made no objection.

  Which was good, because every moss-wife around us answered at once and in one voice, "yes."

  "How?" he asked.

  "Who?" I asked, which to me felt like the more relevant question.

  But they all just shook their heads sadly.

  "We wish we could help you, Ingrid Torfudottir," one of them said.

  "We have watched you from afar."

  "We have seen you grow stronger in your magic."

  "And stronger in your control."

  "But, alas, we humble moss-wives have no way to help."

  "You saved me once," I reminded them.

  "The Wild Hunt will not be fooled by such twice," one of them said. "It is far better for you to be inside human walls before dark."

  "And the time for that grows short," another said.

  "You've seen nothing at all?" I asked desperately. "No stranger wandering through these woods? No signs of magic that ought not to be here? If you've been watching me all this time, you must've seen other things as well."

  "We see the sons of Valki when they patrol near our grove," one said.

  "We see the one who calls himself Loke popping up all over the between lands."

  "We see trolls who've wandered too far south and lost sight of their brothers."

  "But we've seen no sign of the sort of things of which you speak."

  "But you know someone is calling the Hunt?" I asked.

  "We sense it," one of them said. "But you sense it more strongly than we."

  "And you have a wand now," another said. "A fine gift to be wisely used."

  "Yeah," I said, glancing down at the bag at my feet. I wasn't sure how that wand was going to be best used just yet. I had been expecting to leave it in its handsome box until I could show it to Haraldr, but now I was getting the feeling I would need to take it out much sooner.

  "You must go," a few of them said together, with real urgency.

  "They're right," Thorbjorn said. "We'll have to run to reach the lodge in time."

  "Thank you, all," I said as I picked up my bag and slung it over my shoulder.

  "We wish we could be more help to you."

  "But it is we who must beg you for help."

  "Please stop the Wild Hunt from riding nightly through our woods."

  "I'll do the best I can," I said, even as Thorbjorn was tugging urgently on my sleeve to get me moving. "My very best. I swear."

  Then we were running. I glanced over my shoulder just one time and saw that the moss-wives had gathered at the very edge of their clearing to wave their farewells. I raised my right hand over my left shoulder and tossed them a quick wave.

  Then I put my head down and forced my legs to keep running.

  I only hoped my very best would be enough.

  19

  I tried not to look up as we ran. Trying to track the progress of the sun thro
ugh the trees to the west was only going to make me trip over my own feet, and that would really slow us down.

  Plus, it was getting cloudy, especially in the west. That, with the trees and the hills, made guessing at the time remaining until sunset more than iffy.

  But by the time the lodge came into view through the trees, it was well past sunset. Cloudy or not, hills and trees or not, it was well into twilight and flirting with real, dark night.

  And yet the doors were still standing open, light from the fire burning in the hall within spilling like a welcome mat over the snowy clearing.

  I saw the silhouette of a woman in that doorway, as stout as a moss-wife but twice as tall. But as we burst out of the last of the trees, she disappeared within.

  I was pretty sure that had been Thorbjorn's mother waiting for us. I could only imagine the worry we had given her, being out so late. But I didn't know what emotion had driven her away, what she didn't want us to see on her face when we got close enough to the light.

  Was she angry? No, even in the short time I had known her, I suspect she would've lingered and given us a tongue lashing if she had been angry.

  No, more likely she had felt overwhelming relief that we, or at least Thorbjorn, were safe. I further suspected she moved away so that she wouldn't display that happy emotion in front of her own still-grieving sister.

  We didn't slow our run until we were safely inside those walls. It was like I could feel the change, like those walls were embracing me as they would any member of their family.

  As nice as that was, it paled next to the wicked stitch I had in my side. And my normally trusty boots had rubbed the back of my heels raw. I could feel the blood making my socks sticky and knew the minute I pulled those boots off my feet would swell to double their size.

  But we'd made it in time.

  I stayed where I was just inside the door, hands on my knees, gasping for breath. I was dimly aware of Thorbjorn behind me, shutting the heavy doors and securing the bar across them. But my vision kept darkening in a pulse timed to my heartbeat. I hoped that would stop happening when my heart stopped hammering.

  "Hungry?" Nilda asked, suddenly appearing at my side with her sister Kara standing silently beside her.

  "I think right now food would just make me sick," I said between huffs of breath. "But give me a minute."

  "Where did you go?" she asked.

  "It's a long story," I said. "I'll tell it, but I have to get my breath back first."

  "Is it safe here?" Kara asked. "Are we safe?"

  "That's a definite yes," I said. I pressed the heel of my hand into the stich in my side and managed to straighten back up and push away the hair that had plastered itself to my sweaty skin. "It is safe within these walls."

  "The problem is, people keep going out of this safe space," Nilda said.

  "I know," I said. Before I could say more, Thorbjorn approached the three of us.

  "I'm going to speak with my brothers and my father about setting up a watch," he said to me.

  "Okay," I said, lifting the strap for my art bag off my shoulder and dropping it to the floor with a thunk.

  "Careful with that," he said, pointing at the bag. Or, as he and I both knew, at the wand within.

  "You should sit down," Nilda said to me after Thorbjorn had left us.

  "Yeah," I agreed. "I need to get these boots off."

  "Then let's go over there, where no one is eating," she said, and the three of us crossed to the far side of the room where the cabinets for the bedding were. I sat down and untied my boots, but that was all I could manage before a wave of fatigue washed over me.

  "Are you going to be all right?" Kara asked, frowning at me.

  "I'm not used to running like that," I said. "I just need a minute."

  "Here, let me," Nilda said, dropping to her knees at my feet. It took a bit of effort for her to pry off first one and then the other of my boots. The socks should've been easier, but she did it gingerly, carefully rolling them down past the bleeding backs of my heels before pulling them off.

  "I'll get a tub of hot water," Kara said and headed back towards the kitchen.

  "Good thing I'm not going anywhere tomorrow," I said.

  "You've planned that far ahead?" Nilda asked me. "And in your plan we're not going home?"

  "I hope not," I said. "I learned some things today and received a gift I hope will be of use. But let's wait for Kara to get back. I'm so tired I could sleep right now. I definitely don't want to tell this whole tale more than once."

  Kara returned with a tub of hot water, but she wasn't the one carrying it. Not surprisingly, it was Thorge who set the heavy tub at my feet. But Kara had a mug of hot tea with her that she pressed into my hands as Nilda helped me lift my feet over the sides of the tub and into the water.

  It was almost too hot at first, but after the first initial shock it quickly became quite nice. There was something more than water in that tub. The steam rising from it smelled minty and almost mediciny.

  Then Thorbjorn and Thormund joined us with a tray laden with bowls of stew. They handed the bowls around, then spoons, and we all sat together in silence, shoveling down the stew until it was gone. I wasn't sure what sort of meat was in it, perhaps venison from the first day's hunt.

  But there was also a mix of mushrooms in the sauce, which was so thick it coated the spoon if I let it linger there. Which I mostly didn't. Once I'd started eating, I realized I had been ravenous.

  "You three are going to keep watches through the night?" I asked when I finally had to admit there was nothing more to be scraped up off the bottom of my bowl.

  "Not just us," Thormund said. "Everyone is taking a shift."

  "Is that necessary?" I asked. There were only so many hours in the night.

  "No one was willing to sleep at all at first," Thorge said. "This was decided before you and Thorbjorn even got back. The only way anyone will even try to sleep is if they get a turn at the watch."

  "We've divided everyone into thirds," Thormund said. "One of us on each shift, plus a third of the others will also be awake."

  "Which shift am I?" I asked.

  "None of them," Thorbjorn said.

  "Or, I guess, all of them," Nilda said. "So far, you've always woken up just before something has happened. So there's no reason for you to sit up waiting."

  "Not the first night," I said.

  "You just missed her," Kara said, and Nilda nodded firmly.

  "If we see anything, we'll wake you," Thorge said. "Provided you're not already awake."

  "Okay," I said. But I felt guilty, like I was shirking. But, on the other hand, I was so very tired.

  "We also agreed before you returned that you should do the spells here like your grandmother does at the mead hall," Kara said.

  "I already did that," I said. "But honestly, this place doesn't need those sorts of spells. It has protective magic of a kind that is far stronger than anything I can do."

  "You did these protective spells while everyone was out hunting?" Nilda asked. I nodded. "I think you should do them again. Now, while everyone is here and can see you doing it."

  "It will help the others rest easier," Kara said.

  "The others," I said, looking across the room to where Raggi and Báfurr were sipping at beer with Manni and Yngvi. "I find that kind of hard to believe, actually. They don't seem to like me, for one. I doubt they trust my outsider-tainted magic."

  "What they say and what they believe down in their bones aren't necessarily the same thing," Thorge said.

  "You should do it," Thorbjorn said. "Even if you're just checking the work you've already done."

  "So they can see," I said glumly. But I wasn't arguing. I knew the placebo effect was a real thing.

  "But also, there's the wand," Thorbjorn said.

  "What's this about a wand?" Nilda asked, and Kara beside her also perked up in interest.

  "You tell it," I said to Thorbjorn. I rested my head on my folded arms, not really
sleeping but just sitting restfully, letting the rumble of his voice wash over me. He told the others all the events of our day, from the walk out to the clearing with the lightning-blasted tree to our final sprint back to the lodge.

  "Can we see this wand?" Kara asked when at last he had finished.

  I sat up and looked around for my art bag. I had a vague memory of leaving it near the front door, but it was sitting beside me now, Mjolner napping against the side of it. I carefully opened it without waking him and took out the box. I set the box on the table and the others leaned in as I lifted the lid.

  The polished bronze immediately caught the orange and red light from the fire on the far side of the room. It looked like it glowed, the sort of color I could see through my eyelids if I turned my face up to the sun on a summer's day.

  "Your grandmother has one of those," Nilda said. "And now you have your own."

  "And a gift from the dwarves, no less," Kara said, sounding deeply impressed. "Show us what it does."

  I laughed. It wasn't like this was a shiny new bow and I could string it and shoot a few arrows into a target to show it off.

  But then again, I did have a spell to do, one where it was apparently important that everyone be watching.

  I took my feet out of the now-tepid bath and got up from the table. Then I lifted the wand out of the box and held it aloft.

  At first it felt like nothing, like I was holding a spoon or a paintbrush or any other manner of mundane thing. It's not like I was shooting sparks or making a rainbow or anything.

  But then I closed my eyes and shifted my awareness until I saw the weave of magic in the walls around us. My spells from the day before and the lodge's own magic intertwined.

  Everything looked just as it should.

  I walked the length of the room, still holding that wand high over my head. The talk around me quieted as I passed, and I felt every pair of eyes on me as I traced the spine of the roof high above us with the tip of my wand.

  It didn't feel like I did anything, perhaps because there was nothing to be done. But when I reached the doors and lowered my wand, then turned to face the others, I saw awe on every face. And respect on a few I had never expected to see respect on before.