Amber Magic (The Viking Maiden series Book 2)

by Kelly N. Jane

  Ingrid glanced over to Plintze as he waited with everyone. If she hadn’t left, she’d never have met Plintze. Determination washed over her. She set her jaw and stood tall.

  “Wait until you see inside,” Ingrid said as she pushed to stand at the door first.

  Selby hung back from everyone. Plintze and Jorg both glanced at her, unsure what to make of her meek and quiet posture.

  “What’s with you? You always jump to claim Ingrid’s side,” Jorg said, talking back over his shoulder as he pressed past her.

  Plintze offered nothing more than his usual, “Humph.”

  Selby raised her eyebrows, her hands twitching as she picked at her thumbs. “I’ve already seen what’s in there. Besides, should we really go in? What if someone else lived here with her and comes back?”

  “I don’t think that’s going to happen. After what we found in that workroom, I’m positive this is her home, and völvas never marry. If someone else shows up, they will have less right to be here than we do. And in that case—” Ingrid set her shoulders “—we’ll deal with it.”

  Jorg snorted but kept his features neutral. Selby nodded and focused on the ground.

  With a deep inhale and a nod from Jorg, Ingrid opened the door, pushing hard so it swung wide. She stepped aside to let the males walk in ahead of her.

  Plintze charged in first, as if nothing would surprise him. The smell of bread and apples no doubt fueled his hunger after the long day, but he stopped dead in his tracks after two steps.

  Preoccupied with the sights in front of him, Jorg ran into the dwarf’s back and nearly toppled over him. On instinct, he snatched Plintze’s shoulder without looking, preventing him from falling.

  “What is this?” Jorg asked. A dumbfounded stare marked his normally steady countenance.

  Plintze gaped one direction and then the next, his feet firmly planted where he stood. The rest of the group shifted around him further into the room. Selby and Ingrid stepped toward the massive dining table and allowed the boys a better view of the overwhelming interior.

  “Now do you see what I meant?” Selby asked.

  “How is this possible? It looks so small from the outside. One room—no more.” Jorg turned in a circle, taking in the space.

  “This is not natural. That was no ordinary witch,” Plintze said.

  “Völvas train to use Freya’s magic, don’t they?” Ingrid asked.

  Her heart pounded, unnerved from the dying woman’s words that rattled in her memory. “Your powers from Freya.”

  What did that mean? Ingrid caught herself and glanced quickly to Jorg.

  Thankfully the sights preoccupied him enough that he didn’t notice her mental conversation. The woman had said to tell no one, and if that included Jorg, she should be more careful. Especially since she wasn’t sure if the part about Freya or the bead possibly guiding her was the secret. Better to keep it all to herself than risk it.

  “Yes, but your average völva doesn’t have the power to create this. It’s almost . . .” Plintze’s words trailed off, and his brows knitted together.

  “What? What is it?” Selby asked in a shaky voice.

  The dwarf fidgeted and shifted his weight from foot to foot. His unsettled behavior made all of them jumpy.

  “We’re sure this is the woman’s home? Maybe we made a mistake in thinking it was,” Jorg said.

  “Nah, this is her home. Her scent is all around the place. But there’s something else, too. I’ve not been around too many of the gods, but Asgardians are distinct. That woman, or someone else from there, made all of this.” Plintze crinkled his nose as if the idea was unpleasant.

  “My mother told me Eir is a norn and a valkyrie. One who weaves the fates of men and helps choose who lives on the battlefield. Maybe she was here?” Ingrid turned to Plintze with wide, anxious eyes. “But a dagger wouldn’t kill someone from Asgard. Would it?”

  Plintze shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never tried.”

  The other three stared at the dwarf, silence filling the rooms. Before long, Selby couldn’t help herself and rasped a small chuckle. “And why not? I’m sure your charming personality could entice a god to challenge you to a fight.”

  Ingrid and Jorg looked down to the ground, trying to hide their grins while Plintze gave his customary grunt.

  “The woman died, so she must not have been a goddess. She had powerful magic though, or access to it,” Jorg said as he looked around. “It’s getting late, and I say we find places to sleep and come up with a plan in the morning. The rain is heavy now, and I’m happy to have somewhere dry to sleep for the night.”

  “Sleep? Here?” Selby’s voice held a higher pitch than usual, and she rubbed her arms as she rocked on her feet.

  “I will not rest until I eat.” The dwarf folded his arms over his chest and stamped his leather-clad foot, his mustache and beard folding together as he set his lips tight.

  “Come on, there’s more to see, and you’ll like it,” Ingrid said, ignoring the swirling wave of nausea pushing against her stomach. Act strong, be strong. I can do this. “It will be good to stay inside for a change, Selby. We won’t wake up with morning dew all over us.” No matter the cheeriness she conjured into her voice, Selby’s expression stayed grim.

  It will be all right, really.

  Jorg’s smile, complete with a dimple, flashed at her as he stepped close to her side and entwined their fingers. The small gesture and his solid presence settled Ingrid’s nerves as they walked.

  Before they made it to the cooking room, Ingrid glanced over her shoulder and noticed that Selby had not followed them. She remained in the front entry, picking at her nails. Even at a distance, Ingrid could see her friend’s chest was rising and falling too fast as she stared at the ground in front of her.

  Plintze sighed when they walked into the large room that still smelled like warm bread. “This will do.” He strode straight to a door Ingrid hadn’t noticed before. Arms loaded with vegetables and a large hank of smoked ham upon his return, he nodded over his shoulder to Jorg. “There’s more back there for you.”

  Jorg smiled and gave Ingrid a wink before he followed the dwarf’s lead, disappearing into the dark room.

  With a meal underway, Ingrid turned back to talk with Selby. “What’s the matter? Plintze found a bunch of food, but you’d better hurry if you want to get any of it.”

  “‘What’s the matter?’ How can you ask that?” Selby clenched her fists at her side, her breath ragged. “We are in the home of some sorceress or a goddess from Asgard. Or maybe some other realm. Why not!” She threw her hands into the air and paced toward the door and back while Ingrid stood silent and waited. “We are to eat and sleep here like it’s nothing? No. We should keep moving and find somewhere else to stay.”

  “None of this make sense, and I can’t explain it, but I’m supposed to be here. Whatever magic that woman used, it’s calling to me. It’s part of who I am.”

  The revelation smacked against Ingrid like a shield. She expected to train with Eir, to learn skills, but a persistent tap against her insides yearned for something more. Something more than mere training, but she couldn’t understand, not yet.

  “That’s not helping. Something happened to you—up there.” Selby flicked her eyes toward the ceiling. “But, are you sure what you feel is safe, Ingrid? What if it’s dark magic calling to you because of that connection you have in your brain to Jarrick? He could sense it and want to push you toward it for his own benefit.”

  Ingrid rolled her bottom lip between her teeth as she thought about what Selby said. It was true that the essence Jarrick shoved into her was a mystery. And while the powerful magic in the house was overwhelming, the sticky substance had retreated.

  This is right. I’m sure of it. There are answers here that I need.

  “I agree that whatever he did binds me to him somehow, but what is here in this house is not his kind of magic. The darkness doesn’t press on me, it shrinks back.” Her fingers r
ubbed at her forehead while they both stood in silence for a few seconds.

  Ingrid lowered her hand and stood tall. “Trust me in this, we are safe here. Come, get something to eat . . . that always helps. Then we can make more plans.” Ingrid offered her hand. Selby hesitated before grabbing hold of it and following along, her expression still sour.

  The girls halted abruptly upon entering the cooking room. Food was spilled all over the large table, and the pot hanging over the fire bubbled with what smelled like stew. “How did this happen so fast?” Selby asked. Her voice held a hint of disappointment that she’d missed the action.

  “A motivated dwarf is a sight to behold when he is hungry,” Jorg said with a hint of laughter in his voice. “It is delicious. Come and join us.”

  Selby shuffled forward and shrugged her shoulder toward Ingrid. With a roll of her eyes, Ingrid filled a trencher. Jorg was right. Everything tasted rich and flavorful.

  Ingrid slouched against the table and savored a bite of carrot glazed in honey. “I could eat these every day. Thank you, Plintze.”

  “Humph.” His hands were busy pouring thick gravy over a mound of sliced chicken and a slab of bread covered in butter.

  Ingrid smiled at him. I love that cranky old dwarf.

  Jorg snorted but kept on eating.

  6

  After eating, everyone made their way upstairs. Ingrid had described the workroom, and Plintze was as hesitant as Selby to see it. But being from another realm, he was the best one to possibly understand the mysteries it held, and she needed answers to the room’s secrets.

  Ingrid’s skin tingled as they ascended the stairs. Part of the sensation was good, while sometimes the tingling felt more like she’d fallen into a patch of nettles. At the top, Selby plopped into a chair.

  “Once was enough for me. I’m not going back into that place, but Jorg—” she stared at him with pain and worry swirling in her eyes “—keep a hold of her.”

  “I can take care of myself.” No one seems to remember I killed a man! Anger rose in Ingrid’s chest at the implication she was helpless. The dark pressure surged against her temples and then receded to the back corner of her mind.

  “That room is full of magic. It pulses through me from here. Are you sure you need this?” Plintze looked at Ingrid with a hard stare. “If you do, I will help, but it would be better to stay away.”

  His hesitation and the danger he implied made Ingrid’s insides cramp into a tight ball. She forced herself to focus on his face. She’d believed her whole life that she was meant for something. Something great, not the fate of all humankind perhaps, but if that’s what the Norns had chosen for her, then she was ready for it.

  “I need the knowledge that’s in there. If I don’t learn to harness my power and secure the veil of protection, it won’t only be our families that are in danger. Jarrick wants to create a new leadership among the gods. To do that he’ll have to start a war, and everyone will suffer.”

  Ingrid clenched the edge of her tunic into her fists to keep her voice steady. “If I can learn what I’m supposed to do before the deadline, then maybe it will stop him for good, and I won’t have to go with him at all.”

  Plintze gave a small, curt nod and walked over to the door. The handle turned without a hitch, and he strode through.

  A buzzing in her stomach grew stronger as she stepped closer, and it drowned out everything around her. She heard the others, but only as if their voices carried through water. She didn’t care what they said.

  Jorg rubbed her shoulder, and she thought he’d said something, but she couldn’t quite make it out. When she didn’t return the warmth, she noticed his brows knit together. Ingrid sighed. His touch felt familiar and warm, but she needed to prove herself capable, to everyone—maybe even more so to herself.

  With a deep inhale, Ingrid stood tall, but her hand wandered out and found Jorg’s, anyway. The tiny action was more for his comfort than hers. She felt fine. He squeezed, and they moved forward as one, entering the room.

  Again, the scents assaulted Ingrid—mint, lavender, sweet honey, and spices that burned the small hairs in her nose. But there were others, less familiar, coming from the various mortars and pestles set around on the table. Releasing Jorg, she made her way down the middle table, allowing her hand to caress its smooth edge.

  A book lay open next to several glass bottles with stoppers resting inside their slim necks. Ingrid stopped, and as her fingers skimmed over the delicate vellum pages, soft and velvety calfskin under her touch, the words made sense to her.

  She’d never learned to read the runes, let alone seen any other written language, but the knowledge was there. It sang to her like a bard, a rhythmic thrum unlocking secrets stored in her mind.

  The room was no longer shrouded in darkness but illuminated in clear detail. There was a reason and order among the chaos, and it all made sense. The cadence matched her heartbeat as she glided further into the room, swaying to a feverish beat as the need to absorb everything overwhelmed and burned inside her chest.

  Then came the pain.

  Searing hot agony filled her as darkness pierced her vision and tore at her. Screams rang through her ears as she fought against the torrent of sounds and images. Dizziness washed over her, and she reached out to steady herself against the table.

  Ingrid’s hand slipped, and she fell against a wooden box. Blood trickled down her forehead as she righted herself. Shouts assaulted her from behind, and she spun away from a hand that reached for her. Jorg’s face, full of alarm, stood in front of her. Over his shoulder, Selby stood in the doorway with a panicked expression.

  When Jorg stepped closer, Ingrid threw her arms in front of herself to stop him. His body immediately flew backward as if flung from a violent current.

  Selby disappeared from the doorway, and a crash sounded in the hall. Ingrid’s chest tightened and breath wouldn’t come. Tremors rattled her body. Icy fingers seized her middle. Then the smell of pines, of spring and freshly turned earth filled the air. She lunged forward and clutched her fingers into Jorg’s tunic. Dark splotches tunneled her vision until there was nothing.

  Ingrid could hear her name in the distance. It was faint and frantic. Why? Her head ached, and she couldn’t clear her thoughts. As the sounds grew louder, Jorg’s voice penetrated into her consciousness, and everything flooded back to her. The sensations in the workroom had been too much for her to process. Her body had betrayed her and shut down against it.

  The cool air hit Ingrid as she awakened and shivered. Jorg pulled her close to his chest, a relieved sigh pushed against her cheek.

  “Thank the gods,” he whispered as he buried his fingers into her hair.

  As her strength returned, she pushed against him to sit up on her own. “What happened?”

  “That’s what you need to explain to us,” Jorg said.

  Over his shoulder Ingrid spied Plintze shifting from foot to foot, and the little bit of his face not covered in hair looked pale. Twisting, she looked for Selby. They were sitting on the floor of the hallway, the chairs and table where she’d last seen her friend lay scattered. “Where is Selby?”

  “I’m here.” A voice smaller and weaker than could possibly belong to her boisterous best friend croaked out from the corner.

  The pain in Ingrid’s head throbbed as she stood, but she ignored it. Her feet felt as heavy as iron as she stumbled closer to Selby and fell to her knees. The memory of Selby’s silhouette disappearing from the doorway flashed through her mind.

  What had she done?

  “Where does it hurt?” Ingrid could barely force herself to look into Selby’s eyes. Whatever injury she had was Ingrid’s fault.

  “It’s not so bad. I think I hit my shoulder against the chair is all.”

  Ingrid didn’t hesitate in pulling off her gauntlets, letting the familiar warm tingle of her healing energies flow down into her fingers. Selby flinched and glanced between Ingrid’s hands and her face. Tears threatened to form as s
he realized Selby was afraid of her.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what happened, but please let me try to help.”

  Selby’s weak smile did not agree with her eyes, but she nodded. Before she could change her mind, Ingrid placed her hand on Selby’s shoulder and felt her tense. With slow, deep breaths, she concentrated on the area.

  There wasn’t an outer wound like she’d worked with before. This was an unseen injury, and when she closed her eyes, it appeared in her mind’s eye. The muscles and tendons from the top of Selby’s shoulder down her back to the blade were inflamed and bruised.

  The joint had been pulled too far. It was close to dislocating. Ingrid calmed the angry tissues and eased the separation until everything resumed healthy function.

  “You’ll still be sore for a while I think, but it should be better.” Ingrid slumped back on her heels. The expense of using her power when she was already so drained from the experience in the workroom caused her to almost fall over as she reached to pick up her gauntlets.

  “Let’s go downstairs where we can rest farther away from this place,” Jorg said. He gently took hold of Selby’s good arm and helped her to stand before he scooped Ingrid up into his arms.

  “I can walk by myself,” Ingrid mumbled without conviction.

  “Fine, but I still want to hold you.” Jorg kissed her temple and tightened his grip on her.

  “All right. Let me get in front of you two. My shoulder hurts, I don’t need to have a queasy stomach, too,” Selby said.

  “Yes, anywhere is better than here.” Plintze hustled passed Jorg, then stopped in front of Selby. “Lean your hand on my shoulder so you stay steady,” he said with a glance back at her. “I don’t want you tumbling down onto me.”

  Both Ingrid and Jorg grinned at his less than concealed concern.

  Downstairs everyone settled onto the surprisingly comfortable benches made of moss-covered stone in the room across from the large dining table. Inside, the silence rained down as hard as the water from the skies poured outside.