"Where is my daughter?" Thyre bit back at him, eyes narrowed, lips twisted.
Hallad's mother teetered on a seat, erected upon a dais, in the center of the longhouse. Her hair was a shade deeper than Emma’s, knotted on her crown; her features were tight from the pull of her bun. A veil draped off the spiral of hair, signifying her station as Mistress of the Hall. The woman possessed none of Emma’s gentleness.
Villagers stopped their merriment to witness the spectacle. The crowd silenced as the two glowered at one another. Finally, Thyre broke from her scrutiny of Erik to observe the young woman standing beside Hallad, as straight and sure as a goddess. Thyre's lips twitched into an uncontrolled grin as she calculated something unknown. The guileful leer caused Hallad’s chest to contract in forewarning.
The godhi, Hallad’s father, inspected the young woman too, but he didn’t smile. Old haunts seized his aging face. Avarr’s lids sagged over his eyes—the same mist-gray color as Emma’s, though paled with age.
Hallad stared at his father. The sleeves of Avarr’s tunic bore embroidery, emblazed with his signet, the Guardian Tree digging its roots into the earth—the same signet Hallad wore on his own tunic—the exact seal adorning the young woman’s sword tucked neatly under Hallad’s mantle.
The old man shifted his gaze to his son. Sadness tugged his features downward.
"The Hall will hear you now." The godhi nodded toward Erik with the dignity of a king, but the muscles in his neck bunched as he spoke. "Speak, boy. The Hall hears all who ask. What is your complaint, who is this girl and where is my daughter?" Hallad’s father raised himself off his seat to his full height as his voice thundered throughout the longhouse, leaving behind any of the sorrow Hallad had detected earlier.
The crowd shifted uncomfortably. Even Hallad flinched at the force of his father. Erik’s face heated at his words.
"Emma is dead by the hand of this creature," proclaimed Erik, waving to indicate the stranger. "Sucked into the Shadow itself."
A gasp ran through the crowd. Thyre shrieked loudly. The godhi’s jaw tightened, turning his attention on Hallad. The dense smoke of the room blurred the battle shields gracing the walls of the longhouse—each, his father had told him, with a story of its own. The smells of roasted boar and abundant mead quashed the air in Hallad’s lungs. Hallad’s chest tightened as if a boulder sat on it.
"Is this true, son?" the godhi asked.
Hallad twitched. The young woman stood stiff as a blade beside him, but Hallad sensed her shudder underneath her skin.
"Nei, it is not."
Erik swung at Hallad, fist connecting with his cheek. Hallad stammered backward, catching his balance, but refused to return the blow. The spectators erupted, hollering for a fight. The godhi raised his hand in the air.
"Enough!"
The crowd fell quiet once more.
"You boy," the old man said pointing at Rolf, "you tell us what has happened."
Erik glared at his little brother, raising his dark brows in warning. Rolf moved forward nervously at first, then flipped his scarlet mantle about him. Hallad recognized the gesture and gritted his teeth.
By the gods, he thinks he’s reciting a lay.
Rolf cleared his throat and launched into a colorful version of the evening’s events. The crowd oohed at every turn of his tale, giving Rolf the incentive to exaggerate. Hallad tried to interrupt, but his father held him off with a shake of his hand, as engrossed in the telling as the crowd. When Rolf described meeting the stranger, her unclothed state, the mystery of her at the cove, the crowd murmured, "valkyrie" and "swan maiden."
Rolf continued, stating how the godhi’s son had shot the creature. The onlookers roared condemnation. Some prayed aloud for the gods’ pardon and protection. Thyre sobbed as Rolf relayed how the woman’s strange behavior called the Shadow that devoured Emma. Onlookers openly wept. Men cursed, rallying in word as "sent from Loki" and "shadow-spawn" replaced "swan maiden" throughout the smoke-congested longhouse. As the room overflowed with emotion, Rolf bowed his head as if finishing a grand performance.
"What will we do?" asked a man in the crowd.
"Kill her," muttered another.
"What if she’s a valkyrie? The gods would curse us for taking their own."
"The inquest," Rolf suggested.
"The inquest."
It swelled like a wave through the crowd until the godhi hushed them.
"By the law of the Hall, this girl has a right to speak for herself. What do you say?" He searched the young woman longingly, as if willing her to speak on her own behalf.
She stood with her white hair draped around her like sleek wings, her chin level, her bottomless eyes defying the crowd—yet she did not utter a sound.
Thyre flew out of her seat.
"Enough husband! I demand justice. I will not be allowed to give my own daughter a proper pyre. My own flesh and blood will wander the earth forever without the rights said and runes carved at her gravestone."
For once, Erik and Thyre were in agreement, and Erik goaded the crowd to put the woman to the inquest. The godhi raised his hand again, causing a hush to wash over the crowd.
"So shall it be." Avarr spoke slowly, choosing his words with regret. "Prepare for the inquest."
The godhi bent, whispering to a servant next to the dais. The thrall nodded, pushed through the crowd and disappeared out the door.
I will not survive if you let them do this.
The words struck Hallad with the same timbre as the song in the forest. He swiveled to the stranger, only to find her face motionless. He combed the crowd, but none revealed they had either spoken or heard the young woman.
"And what of Hallad’s crime?" Thyre demanded.
"What do you say wife?" The godhi replied, his countenance darkening.
"It was Hallad who shot the shadow-spawn, or swan maiden, either way, he brought the wrath of the gods, and as a result my Emma is gone. By the testimony of his own friends, he moved to protect this creature and not his own sister. If we do not punish him for this crime, because he is your son, the gods will take their revenge on our entire village." Her mouth twitched as if she tried to restrain a smirk.
Hallad had always known his mother was a ruthless woman, but to turn on her own son? He’d known the Hall would demand recompense for the night’s events, though he never dreamed his own mother would suggest it.
"My son," said the godhi. "Do you know what the punishment for treason against your kin, attempting to slay those who control your own fate and endangering your village is?"
"Ja, father, I do." Hallad lowered his eyes, unable to look into his father’s face.
"What say you to these crimes?"
The muscles in Hallad’s jaw tightened. His teeth ground together. He could not deny the accusations, for in part they rang true. He thought of Emma. From a young age, Hallad’s duty forced him to learn to read runes, master sword skill, study politics and war craft. His time spent with tutors left him friendless. In rare moments, free of his responsibilities, Hallad had often found himself alone. Except for Emma. She would appear with her face bright as sunlight to ease his solitude. The only other friend he had accused him of this crime. And now, because of his inaction, Emma was gone.
"Guilty," said Hallad.
"Guilty," repeated Thyre.
"Guilty," echoed the crowd, until the longhouse swelled with the word.
Avarr bowed his head. Erik’s face paled with shock. The young woman pressed silently at Hallad’s side, her presence sparking a smidgen of comfort as his emotions whirled. He caught her eyes as she stared at him, her compassion apparent. In that moment he realized her eyes were not black, but the deepest of blue.
Slowly, the godhi lifted his head, probing his son with anxious eyes.
"The Hall pronounces you guilty of treason against your kin, attempted slaying of a deity and endangerment to this village. Your sentence is death by the gallows."
Bonded Chapter 5
Tied to the central pole of the livestock barn, Hallad struggled against the ropes binding his wrists. They had taken the young woman to another annex of the barn and the separation caused a pang in his chest. He called out to her, but only the knock of hammers against wood replied as the villagers prepared for the inquest in the village square.
And the gallows, Hallad thought.
Hallad worked at his bindings, remembering the young woman’s sword tucked in his belt, hidden safely within the folds of his mantle.
I didn’t even have a chance to ask father about his signet.
Momentary grief overtook him, but he shook loose of its grip. He had to break free, get to the woman and keep her safe. If he managed to release one hand, he could reach the hilt.
A crack sounded at the door, followed by footsteps.
Unable to look backward to see who had entered, Hallad called, "Who’s there?"
The footfalls continued, coming faster.
"Who enters?" He asked more forcefully.
"Shush."
From behind a hand covered his mouth and a knife sliced through his bonds. Hallad spun around. His father stood before him. A dark cape concealed his clothing, disguising his station. His grimness commanded silence as he drew his hand away.
"Your mother warned me of this day." The old godhi contemplated his only son with sorrow.
"My mother—"
"Nei, son. Not Thyre. Your mother, Isla. You never knew of her. I should have told you sooner, but," the old man paused, his face sagging, "but I am an old fool."
Avarr's shoulders shrunk with defeat.
Hallad prickled at the unfamiliar sight. His father had always been no less than a god to him, but tonight a sad, mortal man, conquered by the weight he bore, stood before him.
The old man breathed deeply. His shoulders rose with effort and, for a moment, the spark of the godhi returned. Hallad realized his father put up the front on his behalf.
"There isn’t time. You must go now, for the time of your birth mother’s prophecies have borne fruit. You must be quick and obedient." The old godhi’s sunken demeanor turned urgent as he shuffled his son toward the door. "Take the girl away from here to a place nordr of Birka, to the Temple to Freyja. There you will find a woman named Ase Jorrun, Second Priestess, Daughter of the Temple. She will guide you."
Avarr placed his hands on his son’s shoulders and for the first time Hallad realized that they were the same height.
"Hear me well son, for your mother gave her life for this cause and if it comes to that, so must you. Keep the girl safe at all costs. Protect her with your life and honor."
"But . . . " Hallad hung onto the word in his throat; he knew not to question his father, but so many questions formulated in his mind: his mother, Thyre, the young woman, and Emma. He wanted answers, but the insistence in the old man’s eyes silenced him.
"In time you will understand." The godhi’s face, though tight with anxiety, softened as he beheld his son.
Hallad withdrew the young woman’s sword from its hiding place and held the weapon out. Avarr’s signet glinted on the weapon's hilt in the dim light.
"I know," said Avarr, but no other justification came. The unanswered questions continued to linger between them until his father added, "Son, you must watch your backside. Death follows in this girl’s wake." The gravity of his tone drove his point.
"Father, what of Emma? How am I to protect the creature that caused this tragedy?"
A wise smile crossed the godhi’s lips, lifting his sagging features.
"Do you believe she caused this?"
"Nei," Hallad said before could think.
"You must trust that." The old man placed his hand on Hallad’s thick chest, over his heart. Silence loomed between them. Then he reached around and held his son in his arms, patting him roughly on the back.
"And you must trust this. She can lead you to Emma." The godhi pulled back, studying Hallad as if he was trying to etch his features deep within his memory.
"Then why the death sentence?" Hallad drew away from him.
"There are too many old pains between Thyre and me to explain." The old man released his son, but held him with his eyes. "One day you will lead and you will understand, but now you must go. We have spent too much time."
The godhi turned, leading Hallad from the barn. No one stood guard and the only sound was the knocking in the distance, more than a hundred paces away. Hallad’s father led him around the barn where the young woman waited for him, seated on his father’s favorite steed, Windrunner. The dappled gray gelding matched the spirit of the iron-edged woman, prancing beneath her command. The woman’s control over the gray surprised Hallad, as only his father and Emma had ever been able to tame the beast. His own horse, Thor, snorted impatiently, his saddle packed with nap sacks and a bedroll. At his father’s insistence, Hallad began to mount, but at the last moment Avarr reached out and grabbed him, hugging him fiercely.
Awkwardly, Hallad pulled from his father’s grip and mounted.
"Now go my son, and keep my honor alive, for my time has come." Grabbing his son’s hand, Avarr pressed an object into Hallad’s palm.
"Father, if there is danger—"
"Only death waits here my son, you must go now and never return." He held his son with his eyes, the object digging into Hallad's hand. "Do you understand?"
Hallad glanced down as he father drew his hand away. His father’s signet, formed into a mantle clasp, lay in his palm. Hallad nodded, realizing the importance of the gift.
"Now go. It is time for me to meet my fate and you to meet yours."
The old godhi slapped Thor’s chestnut haunches, coaxing the horse onward. Windrunner pranced anxiously in Thor’s wake. Hallad glanced back at his father.
"May the Norns shine upon you, my boy."
His father’s blessing was no more than a whisper disappearing into the black night, but he would never forget the words.
Hallad turned and rode. The young woman, atop the grey, kept pace alongside him without a word, their silence a comfort. It felt right—her next to him. He thought she felt it too, though he couldn’t say how he knew. As they trotted into the shadows, Hallad didn’t look back again; but he knew, with unquestionable certainty, that his father watched him fade into the distant night.
Bonded Chapter 6
They only traveled a few hundred paces before the pounding of hoof beats followed in their wake. Hallad reined in Thor and he skittered to a halt, spraying dust up behind him. The young woman, quicker than Hallad, had already checked the gray. They both spun to meet the oncoming rider.
The beating intensified, like drums in a sacrificial ceremony, until Hallad caught sight of their pursuer. A silhouette spouting dust barreled down upon them, sword drawn in the moonlight. The glint of metal and labored breaths of rider and horse unnerved Hallad. As the follower reached them, Hallad recognized his blood sworn.
"Have you nei honor? You, who would not avenge your own sister’s death? Now you help her slayer to escape?"
Erik, eyes wild and reddened, swung his broad sword around and jabbed the sharp edge toward Hallad.
The young woman protectively circled to his side, as Hallad raised his hands in the air.
"Nei Erik, it is not like that. Let me explain."
"Explain Emma’s death? Explain your treason?"
Erik nudged the point of his blade into the Hallad’s thick neck. The young woman pressed her gray between them, forcing Erik’s weapon back. Erik pierced her with a hateful glare, shifting the sword from Hallad to the woman. She tipped her chin up to oblige the tip.
"Stop this!" Hallad demanded. "You must listen to me Erik."
"Why should I listen to a traitor?"
"For Emma’s sake, then, listen."
At the mention of Emma, the veins in Erik’s temples bulged.
"She can find Emma. It wasn’t her fault. She meant to protect her."
"Lies!" Erik screamed. He trembled with anger.
&n
bsp; "Nei, Erik. It’s true. By my father’s own words it is true."
"Your own father sentenced you to death!"
"He released me and told me to protect this woman with my life, told me she can lead me to Emma. How else would I be here and not tied up waiting for my execution?"
Erik’s face burned with fury. Then the sizzle died as his eyes glazed with thought.
"I know I owe you my life Erik. You are my blood sworn because of that fact. I would not betray you."
Erik bowed his head momentarily. When he returned Hallad’s stare, both hope and hatred mingled in his facade.
"I will go with you, if only to find Emma, and because until this night I have never known you to speak anything but the truth."
Erik raised his sword, forcing the young woman to lift her chin another notch. She acquiesced with ease as if stretching her neck on her own accord.
"But if at any time I find out this creature killed my Emma, I will take her head from her neck with my own hands." He jerked the metal away from the young woman, waving it toward Hallad. "And sworn blood brother or not, if you try to stop me it will be your head on a spit next to hers."
"And I by your side, brother," a voice said in the distance as a red-caped figure trotted toward them.
"Go home Rolf!" Erik yelled back.
"I will not," replied the younger brother as he joined the circle. Rolf sat atop a white mare he called Idunn in tribute to his favorite god's consort. The beast's mane and tail were plaited with ribbons. Hallad wondered if the younger brother groomed the animal in such a ridiculous way every morning.
"I mean it Rolf, go home to mother!"
"You cannot treat me like a child."
"Then do not act like one."
Erik turned his mount, ignoring his younger brother. Hallad and the young woman nudged their horses into a trot, leaving Rolf behind. Moments later a fourth set of hoof beats joined theirs and a tight smile flashed over Erik’s face.
"Then hurry up about it," Erik called back, "We won’t wait all night for you."
They traveled onward. The moon shone down like a beacon, lighting their way, and Hallad thanked the gods for the full moon. Cold gusted through the area as they cantered. The young woman’s behavior switched from calm to upset. She shifted back and forth, head swinging side to side like she had done in the Great Wood earlier that night.
The Light Keepers Page 6