by Quinn Loftis
Tawny placed her hand on Hilda’s head and once again closed her eyes. I don’t know what I was waiting for her to say, but it certainly wasn’t what actually came out of her mouth.
“You’ve already made your choice. You made it many, many years ago,” the witch said. The tone of her voice held a melancholy sadness. “You’ve made peace with your choice, but the task will not be easy and it approaches quickly. You know of what I speak.”
Hilda’s face revealed nothing of her thoughts when she responded. “I do.”
Tawny opened her eyes and stepped back. There were tears in the green orbs, and the look in them filled me with grief even though I had no idea why she was upset.
Dayna said, “I feel like there is something being said right now that is not being said… if that makes any sense.” She pointed between Hilda and Tawny.
I nodded. “I agree. Is there some sort of witch, Oracle communication phenomenon that I need to know about?”
Hilda gave me a withering look, making it clear she thought my question was about as intelligent as the babble of a two-year-old.
“I would like to invite you to eat with me,” Tawny said, interrupting my staring contest with Hilda.
“Your tone and the mischief in your eyes makes me think this might be a last meal,” Dayna said as she helped herself to a chair at the small table.
Tawny ignored the statement. “Afterward, you can get some rest before you must be on your way,” the witch said. Her eyes met Hilda’s, and the two once again shared a knowing look.
There was definitely something that they both knew or understood that they weren’t sharing with us.
“Please, have a seat. I’ve got soup heating already and some fresh bread.”
We took the remaining chairs around the table as Tawny went about readying things for the meal. I kept trying to catch Hilda’s eye, but she was studiously avoiding my gaze. Hardheaded Oracle. That was fine; she would have to talk to me eventually.
The soup was a simple chicken broth with vegetables. It was hot and warmed me to my toes, much like the warmth I’d felt from Tawny earlier, only the soup didn’t leave any cold places behind. By the time we were finished eating, I was not only full but sleepy as well.
“I have a room in the back where you are welcome to take a nap.” She motioned for us to follow her, declining our offer to help her clean up the remains of the meal.
The room was small, but there was a comfortable pallet on the floor, big enough for us all. It was obvious the sleeping spot wasn’t a permanent fixture—a table and some containers had been moved out of the way to accommodate the bedding, almost as if she’d known we were coming.
When Tawny stepped out and we were all alone, lying next to each other on the ground, I turned to Hilda. “What’s going on?”
“Yes,” Dayna agreed. “What is going on? That woman acts like she knows exactly what’s going on with us, and she knows stuff even we don’t know.”
Hilda chuckled. “She’s a witch—of course she knows stuff you don’t know.”
“Did she know we were coming?” I asked.
“I cannot say. She likely has the power to scry, so it’s certainly possible that she knew she would have visitors.”
“What did she mean that you had already made your choice?” Dayna asked.
“There’s a rule among those of us who can see past, present, and future,” Hilda said.
“Let me guess,” Dayna interrupted. “It’s ‘you don’t look at mine and I won’t look at yours.’”
“No, obviously not. I let her read me just now, didn’t I? She can see it if she wants to. Oracles can read each other, but they cannot tell what they saw. I would not ask her, and she would not tell me. That is why no words were spoken between us. I already know what she saw, of course. I know my own future better than anyone.
“And what did she see?” I asked.
“My future is my own,” she said, and I knew there was no use trying to argue with her. After a moment, she continued.
“As an Oracle—and listen up to this Allete, here is your first lesson—there are certain prophecies you will get that you are compelled to share. Their intended audience will be clear to you, as well as the purpose the prophecy serves. You will be in no doubt that someone else needs to know the vision you received.
“Other times, your seer abilities may show you something that isn’t necessarily a prophecy, but a possibility. This future could be a virtual certainty or the chance of it happening could be very slight. Those visions need not be shared if you think it wiser to remain silent. You may choose to keep them to yourself if you wish. For myself, I have found it usually wiser to keep the information secret, especially from the subject of the vision. Once again, the future is not set in stone.
“Some prophecies are clear and sure. But even those can be altered. Just because you’ve glimpsed a certain future doesn’t make it absolute. People have free will, the ability to change their minds at any moment, and for that reason, it is impossible to truly know the future.”
“As interesting as all of that is, why do I feel like you are just trying to distract us so we won’t keep asking you about what Tawny saw?” Dayna asked.
“You may ask all you want. Not even you, Dayna the Fierce, will make me tell. Besides, my future daughter-in-law needs to be trained properly, and there’s no better time like the present.”
Whether or not her words were meant to be a distraction didn’t matter to me. It was information that I needed, and I was thirsty to know more. I was terrified of this future, this new power, that had been dropped in my lap and the responsibility that came along with it. I felt like I was walking into a battle with no weapon, a war without strategy. I wanted to be prepared. I wanted to know the rules, the boundaries, and the limits. Hopefully, that would keep me from screwing up too badly.
“What else?” I asked Hilda. “What else can you tell me about what I am and what I can do?”
“Eagerness. I like it,” she said, grinning. “It’s probably best if we get as much done now as possible. I may not always be around to pass on these pearls of wisdom.”
“Again with the ambiguous references,” Dayna sighed. “I’m a teenage girl, I am completely proficient in subterfuge, so don’t think you’re fooling me.”
“If I just let her keep talking, do you think she will eventually run out of things to say?” Hilda asked me.
I grinned. “Probably not. It hasn’t happened yet.”
Dayna grumbled something unintelligible and then said, “Just get on with your magic lessons, you secret-keeping hag.”
“You are a healer and an Oracle, Allete. Simply put, you’re a magic user. You have the ability to use energy, and will, and power to do things others cannot. We talked about how your healing ability can also be used to cause pain—to kill, even. I believe with some training from someone like Tawny, you could learn even more than healing.”
“Like what?” Dayna asked.
“I’m so glad you asked, Allete,” Hilda said, glaring at Dayna.
“She would have asked it, I just beat her to it,” my sister pointed out.
She was right, of course. The words had been on the tip of my tongue.
“Things such as the manipulation of the elements,” Hilda answered. “The ability to alter a person’s will.”
“Seriously?” I asked as I turned onto my side and propped myself up on my elbow. “You think I could control someone’s mind?”
“I think magic is powerful, Oracles are powerful, and healers are even more so. The combination of the two is more powerful still. Witches have a small amount of natural magic, but they cannot match our power.”
“Gisele seemed to have a pretty good handle on us back at Calder’s village,” I said.
“What I mean is, they cannot match our power naturally,” she continued. “Witches augment their power with certain things. Through this, they can become very mighty in the craft.”
“What kind of t
hings?” I asked.
“Blood, usually,” Hilda said coolly. “Dark witches use it for personal gain and evil. White witches use it to help others. Either way, as I told you before, magic requires sacrifice. But because you are what you are, you have an anchor—a soul match. He helps bear the burden of that sacrifice every time you use your magic.”
“What would happen if she didn’t have Torben?” Dayna asked.
I bit my lip and shot Hilda a look. I hadn’t told Dayna that using my abilities actually consumed part of my life force. I hoped my facial expression showed the Oracle I wanted her to keep her mouth shut.
“Without Torben, Allete would lose bits of her life every time she heals or prophesizes.”
Okay, so she didn’t get the message. At. All.
Dayna sat straight up. “So, all these years when she was healing people and animals, she was using pieces of her own life?”
“That is exactly what I’m saying. Essentially, she was shortening her own life.”
I slapped my hand in front of my face. “You can stop at any time,” I said, my voice sounding garbled because my palm covered my mouth.
“She has a right to know. She’s your sister,” Hilda said.
“But I had the right to be the one to tell her,” I pointed out.
Hilda waved me off. “You never would have. I’ve done you a favor, now sit back and hush. There’s more.”
I lay back down and closed my eyes, focusing on Hilda’s voice and trying to soak in everything she said, committing it to memory.
“It is important you know your limits. The power of magic isn’t endless. I know the drive within you to heal others is very strong, but you must remain in control of it, not the other way around. You cannot let it control you, or it will eventually cost you your life. There are going to be times when you cannot heal someone—and should not heal them. The natural order of the universe demands that we are born, we live, and we die. That is how it is. Sometimes, you may be allowed to intervene. Other times, you have to let the natural order of events run its course.”
“How do I know when to do that?” I asked.
“You will feel it. Even though your magic is pushing you to heal, deep down there will be a voice telling you to refrain. You need to learn to listen for that voice. Sometimes, when you don’t hear it because you’re so hell-bent on saving someone, Torben will hear it and tell you. He is your soul match. It is his job to keep you alive. And when he tells you, you must listen to him. Know that he isn’t trying to keep you from doing what you’re meant to do. He’s trying to keep you safe. You can’t be a healer if you’re dead, so listen to him.”
Dayna laughed. “You want my sister to do something a man tells her to do?”
“Hey, I can follow orders if I need to,” I said defensively.
“When it comes to healing, you don’t back down, Allete. You know you don’t.”
She was right. I’d never been able to give up on anyone or any animal. It would be hard to walk away and just let someone die. Such a thing was horrible to think about. It went completely against my nature.
“She’s going to have to learn, and quickly,” Hilda said. “Now, it’s time to rest. We have to travel fast and far tomorrow.”
I closed my eyes and replayed her words in my mind. If I let my magic control me, the power driving me to heal would eventually kill me. Could I control it? My proven record thus far was a resounding no. No, I could not. But maybe, with Torben’s help, I’d be able to use my magic the way it was intended, and that included knowing when to abstain from using it.
“One more thing,” Hilda said. “If ever it comes down to it, I forbid you to heal me. Do you hear me, Allete? I forbid you to ever use your magic on me.”
“Wh—”
“I am an Oracle and healer many years your superior,” she said before I could speak, “and I am ordering you never to use your magic on me. Give me your word as a magic user and my future daughter-in-law. Now.”
I didn’t want to. Grumpy as she was, I cared for Hilda deeply, not to mention she was the mother of the man that I loved. How did she think I could walk away from her if she were injured? That was crazy.
“Give me your word, Allete. If you make me, I will demand a blood oath.”
The breath whooshed from my lungs and tears formed in my eyes before I finally answered. “You have my word.”
“Excellent,” she said in a voice much too chipper for the subject matter at hand. “Sleep sweetly, lovely princesses.”
“Want me to hit her?” Dayna mumbled as sleep was already making her drowsy.
“Save your energy,” I said. “Tomorrow you might need to hit and kick her. I wouldn’t want you to be too tired.”
Much too early I came to many places, but too late to others.
~ Hávamál, Book of Viking Wisdom
“Drop the anchor!” I roared. It wasn’t my boat to command, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting to my clansmen as soon as possible.
I’d begun to see the smoke plumes while we were still miles out, and my stomach had dropped into my feet. I restlessly paced the deck of the ship, willing it to go faster. Despite all my cursing, screaming, and pounding on the gunwale, the wind would not carry the lethargic ship any faster. As soon as the shore was in sight, I was tempted to jump ship and swim the rest of the way.
I was anxious to reach my clan yet terrified of what I would find when we arrived. After what seemed like hours, the ship was finally close enough to the shore to lower the dinghies. But I could wait no longer. As the boats were lowered, I barreled over the side of the vessel and started swimming to shore.
“Torben!” Brant called out as I launched myself into the water. I didn’t stop to consider how far the swim might be, but there was no doubt I could make the shore. I’d come too far to give up now. Nothing would stop me from reaching my clan.
With my sword strapped to my back I started pulling myself through the water, kicking my legs as hard as I could. I could feel the current pushing me landward, and I gave thanks to the giant of the sea for the help. After some time, my boots found soft mud, and I churned through it until I had emerged onto the beach. I didn’t pause to catch my breath. Instead, I pumped my legs and sped toward the village.
My clan lived a mile from the beach. I’d travelled this particular path so many times I could run it with my eyes closed. Never before, however, had I covered the distance so quickly, despite the fact that my clothes and boots were waterlogged and heavy. I was exhausted from my travels over land and sea, but the thought of my clan pushed the weariness from my mind. As I lunged into the copse of trees that separated our village from the beach, I heard my men splashing ashore in the rowboats. I didn’t wait for them to catch up. When I broke through the tree line, the view that unfolded before me finally gave me pause, nearly making my knees buckle. Bodies lay everywhere, and buildings were still smoldering. I felt as if an axe handle had been shoved into my gut. Fury overcame me, and again, I felt my feet moving. Heedless to the possibility of lurking danger, I sped into the heart of the village.
I checked every building. Some small flames still licked the wood, but most had burned out. Many of the charred frames stood like blackened skeletons waiting for the slightest pressure to topple them in a tangle of burned-out bones.
Gasps and cries alerted me to the presence of my men arriving behind me.
“Start checking the fallen,” I yelled, pointing toward the village. “Anyone still breathing bring to the center of the village. I’m going to check the huts.” Several of the homes were complete ash, which meant Cathal was probably long gone. The buildings that were still hot likely caught fire from stray ash carried on the wind. With only one well, extinguishing multiple fires before they spread throughout the town would have been virtually impossible.
“Torben, they’ll collapse on you,” Amund said.
“Someone could still be alive. I have to check,” I yelled, running headlong into the nearest
hut still standing.
“Hello?” I yelled as I entered through the open doorway. I quickly scanned the rooms but saw no one. “Is there anyone inside? It’s Torben.” I paused to listen, my ears straining to hear even the smallest sound. When I didn’t hear anything, I sprinted out and moved on to the next hut, and then the next, finding nothing.
As I approached a fourth burned-out hut, I heard a raspy voice.
“Torben.”
If I hadn’t been listening intently, I would have missed it. A fallen timber blocked the doorway, and without thought, I smashed through it into the dwelling. Smoke engulfed me. I pulled my shirt up over my nose and whipped my head all around, seeking the owner of the voice. Curled up in the far corner of the room was Freya, a clan shieldmaiden. Her foot was stuck in a hole where the wooden floor had given way, and she was struggling to get free while also cradling a small child, using her body to protect the baby from the heat.
I hurried over to her and knelt where she sat. “Are you okay? Can you move?”
Freya shook her head and pointed down to her leg. “Twisted my ankle; hurts like a bitch.”
Her language didn’t surprise me, she could curse Brant under a table.
I worked as carefully as I could, pulling up the boards around her ankle and then pulled it loose. Once she was no longer held captive, I picked up Freya, who shifted the baby between us so that both our bodies protected it as much as possible. I could feel the fire caressing my skin, the heat a warning that if I stayed much longer, my body would join the burning embers. Smoke filled my lungs, making it impossible to get a breath. Trying to be as gentle as possible, I quickly carried them out of the building. As soon as I was out of the hut, the fresh air seized my lungs and I began to cough. Freya did the same. I set her down on the ground and leaned over, placing my hands on my knees. “Is the babe okay?”
She pulled back and searched the little one over. The small girl wasn’t moving. Freya slowly shook her head. “She’s gone.” Her voice wavered. “She’s gone.”