“I have never tried to force anyone to do my bidding, nor would I, if that settles some of your fears. And, I don’t even know if I can sing—I’ve never tried.” Jorg let out a whiff of amusement. “The persuasion I spoke of was the kind that uses weapons. You’ve asked quite a few questions, Bremen, do you mind if I ask one for myself?”
“Of course.”
Ingrid’s pulse pounded against her skin, and a trickle of sweat rolled down the center of her back. The tar pressed hard as her heart raced faster. The uneasy truce between them balanced on a dagger’s edge as the conversation continued.
Jorg glanced around beyond their fire to the many tents. “You’re obviously a leader among your men, Now we sit next to the largest tent within view, yet you look no older than me, younger perhaps. How does someone of your age end up in such a position over a group this large?”
Greer fidgeted and looked agitated, but Bremen remained calm and composed. “That’s fair enough. I grew up among the king’s men and showed a special affinity for sword play at an early age, granting me the ability to begin my training younger than most.”
There was a small silence while everyone stared into the flames, small pops from the wood released sparks into the dark night. The conversation had grown less jovial, and Ingrid tried to remove her hand from Jorg’s, but he squeezed lightly for her to stay. She picked at a non-existent loose thread on her trousers with her free hand. It was Selby who finally broke the silence.
“Why would the druht hunt down those with magic? What could be their reason?”
“From what I heard, their leader is a man from Wessex who has a deep hatred of all magic because of personal experiences. He believes someone with magical powers, will help those from the otherworld bring death and destruction to all humans. A reward is offered for any information about who it might be, so they can be stopped.”
There are stories about me? Why didn’t anyone say so before we left?
Never learning who she was had made her more vulnerable. Ingrid fidgeted and rubbed her hands together in her lap, wanting to pace or at least slip into the dark and hide. Her parents thought they were protecting her by hiding her connection to Freya’s spell as she grew. But now there were too many unknowns that left her exposed and defenseless.
Selby sat close enough to Ingrid that she reached out a hand and brushed the side of Ingrid’s thigh. “We saw their questioning methods,” Selby said. Even in the glow of the fire, her face paled and her mouth clamped tight.
Bremen peered at Jorg with a mixture of agitation and concern. “What happened?” he asked through his teeth.
“They had a woman bound and tied like an animal. We helped release her, but one man put a dagger in her chest before we got to him.”
Bremen leveled his sight on Selby. “I am sorry.” He continued to stare at her, as he tipped his face toward Jorg. “Did any of them get away?”
“No.”
Bremen inhaled and nodded. “Good.”
The conversation floated into Ingrid’s ears, but she couldn’t hear the words. The realization that those men searched for her and the woman had died because of it—because of her—had her head in a spin. She sat tall as she battled for control against the dark pressure making things worse.
“I need to rest now,” Ingrid muttered. “Can you show us where we should set ourselves up for the night? Anywhere out of the way is fine.”
“A tent is ready for you, as our guests.” Bremen stood and called out to an older woman, who stepped out of the shadows where she’d been waiting. “An féidir leat na mná a thaispeáint go dtí a bpobal.” He spoke in her native tongue before turning back to the others. “Moirin will show you to where you can retire.”
Selby, Ingrid, and Jorg stood as one and turned to follow the woman. “Jorg, would you mind staying to talk with me for just a few more minutes?” Bremen asked.
Ingrid stared at Jorg, and he brushed her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “I won’t be long.”
Jorg sat back down, with what Ingrid believed was a smile of assurance. She followed Selby and peeked back at him, spying his wink before she slipped into the shadows. They walked past three tents until they came to one that looked as if it should lodge at least ten. But when they ducked through the door, there were only two pallets covered in straw and furs, and even had a woven mat on the floor.
“This is just for us?” Ingrid asked Moirin, but Ingrid could not decipher the mutterings she made.
The woman, in turn, couldn’t understand Ingrid either. She gave up and began trying to help Ingrid out of her clothes, gasping when she pulled off the gauntlets. Moirin ran her hand along the length of Ingrid’s dragon scar, muttering more words in her own language before pulling her hand away and resting it in a fist at her chest.
Touching her head, chest, and each shoulder before kissing her fingers, she shuddered and then handed Ingrid a nightdress that appeared from a trunk.
Selby hurried to undress and redress herself before Moirin could help her. The older woman was unfazed, apparently back to business after her reaction to Ingrid and then shooed them both onto their respective beds. Brushing against Ingrid’s hands, she produced another blanket and tucked it in tight.
Without another word, Moirin left the tent, and the girls thought they’d seen the last of her only to discover her a few minutes later hurrying back to put a warm stone wrapped in a cloth under the blankets near their feet. Once Moirin had them settled with the warmth of the stones creating more heat than was tolerable, and no way of saying so, she blew out the candles and left for good.
Selby giggled and reached down to remove the heat source near her feet. “I don’t know about you, but I could get used to someone taking care of me like this, even though it’s like sleeping in the middle of a hearth. Do you think this is some kind of pre-roasting ritual as we sleep, and they’ll serve us for breakfast?”
“What? How do you come up with such things? I think she was trying to be nice. At least you can move. I think she might have sewn me in somehow. Can you help me?” Ingrid whined.
Selby slipped out of the covers and helped Ingrid to loosen all of her coverings. “She obviously felt your hands.”
“Yes, she did that earlier, too, when she handed me the meal. She didn’t take our packs, did she?”
“No, they are still here. Do you want your gauntlets?”
“Yes, I would rather wear those instead of all these coverings.” Ingrid slid the sleeves over her arms, securing a loop around her middle finger to keep them in place. “What do you think is happening to Jorg? Do you think that Bremen really wanted to talk with him? What if they do something to him because they fear he’ll use his elven magic to control their minds, like Greer worried about? Maybe we should go check?”
“Now who conjures up stories? Bremen wouldn’t do that, he’s not that kind of man. I’m sure of it. Although, he seems to think we can’t take care of ourselves, so he probably wanted to talk to Jorg without us there.”
“You’re sure of him. Would that be the reason you were all smiles whenever he looked at you? You giggled at a joke. Someone is a little affected, I’m betting.”
“Well, how could I not be? No other man I’ve met can rival Hagen in looks and leadership. Do you see the way the men listen to him?”
“I noticed that no one else was giving any orders. Why do you think that is? That seems odd. What if he is the prince and just doesn’t want us to know it?”
Selby was quiet for long enough to hear the crickets outside the tent before she answered. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll leave in the morning anyway, but he was handsome to look at.” Selby sighed and settled herself down into the covers. “It’s nice, though, to have a warm place to sleep. I’m glad we came this way. It was enjoyable to be around plain humans, too, even for an evening.”
Ingrid thought about that, and a ball formed in her stomach. “Why do you say that?”
“I love you, you know that, but I feel like I don
’t belong sometimes.” They both stared up at the ceiling and let the words hang in the air. “It’s nothing. I liked their company; that’s all.” Selby rolled toward the outside wall of the tent and scooted deeper under the furs.
There wasn’t anything Ingrid could say. She also felt like she belonged nowhere and understood Selby more than her friend would believe. After the fight they’d had in the cabin, she hoped the evening gave Selby some peace.
I hope I’ve chosen the right path for all of us.
12
As the sun rose the next morning, Moirin hurried both girls out of their beds . She motioned for them to get dressed while she gathered the stones and muttered to herself. She grabbed hold of Ingrid and lifted one hand then the other, examining her fingers. Ingrid watched her in utter confusion as she continued to mumble.
Ingrid shrugged her shoulders, not understanding a word the woman said. Selby matched the motion, and they both tried to hide their giggles while they dressed. Ingrid gathered her knives and started to leave, but she didn’t make it far.
Moirin tugged her back into the tent and sat her on the bed, twisting Ingrid’s shoulders so she could work on her hair. Once Ingrid realized what she was doing, she sat still and cringed more than once when the woman insisted on removing all the tangles.
Selby tried to sneak away, but Moirin rushed in front and forced her to sit on her bed to wait for her turn as well.
“I guess we need to make a better impression today,” Selby chuckled. “Maybe we’ll get to meet the prince.”
“Or, maybe we already have? Ouch. Which would be odd, though, so probably not. Ouch!” Ingrid called out as Selby snickered at her pain. “Just wait! You’re next, and she is, forceful.” Ingrid slammed her eyes shut and bit on her lip to brace herself for the discomfort.
“Yeah, it would be odd.” Selby looked off into the distance, contemplating what Ingrid had said. Soon, Morin broke her concentration by twisting her shoulders to begin her hair treatment. “Ow! You weren’t joking.”
Ingrid giggled. “What do you think? Was it worth the pain?” She stood before Selby and turned a circle.
Selby twisted her mouth. “Unfortunately, yes. You look great.” Scrunching her eyes closed, she endured the removal of her tangles as well.
When the girls finally stepped out of the tent, they each wore single woven braids that cascaded down the center of their backs with a smaller braid circling each side of their head like a crown. Moirin had even adorned the back of the crown with golden pins. Dressed back into their trousers and, they looked a mixture of fine noble and tough warrior.
At the same campfire they’d sat near the night before, Selby enjoyed the grin that eased across Bremen’s face as they approached.
“I think I might keep this look,” Selby whispered to Ingrid. As usual, it was loud enough to have traveled to the ears of everyone nearby. Ingrid closed her eyes and shook her head, but a prickle on the back of her neck made her uneasy. Neither Jorg nor Plintze was anywhere in sight.
“Good morning,” Selby said.
Bremen stood as the girls approached, his focus solely on Selby. She sat on a log to Ingrid’s left and scooted to the center when Greer walked up eyeing her with a smirk.
“Where are Jorg and Plintze?” Ingrid asked, scanning the area.
Bremen spoke something in Gaelic to Moirin who grumbled before she hustled away. He chuckled to himself then turned his attention to Greer. “Where were you off to so early?”
Jorg, where are you? Ingrid didn’t know if Bremen had been too distracted by Selby to hear her question or was deliberately ignoring it. He seemed relaxed, but the hostility she’d perceived from Greer the night before saturated the air again like a heavy dew.
“I was checking in with the men to be sure preparations have been made to move out this morning.”
“Have you seen Jorg or the dwarf, by chance?” Bremen asked as Greer settled onto a log, finally addressing Ingrid’s concern.
“His name is Plintze.” Ingrid heard the growl in her voice, but she didn’t care. He has a name after all.
Bremen clearly wasn’t asking out of the same concern she had. He probably only wanted to keep an eye on them as a threat. As you should. I’m sure Jorg could beat you in a battle.
“Yes. Plintze. Have you seen them?” Bremen asked Greer again, a tight smile on his face that didn’t match the challenge in his eyes at Ingrid’s tone.
“No, I don’t believe I have seen the—Plintze—today. I saw Jorg heading out that direction early this morning.” Greer swept his hand in a lazy arc away from camp. “I didn’t care to stop him and ask why.”
There was no way Jorg would have left without telling Ingrid. She knew that to her core. After his outburst the night before about elven abilities, Greer’s gesture seemed too casual.
“I’m sure they’ll show up. We’ll head out soon since the journey is long.” Bremen dug into his meal as if there was nothing to worry over.
“As Jorg mentioned yesterday, we must go our own way. While we enjoyed the warm beds a great deal, we need to find my relative.” Ingrid fidgeted with her bowl. A worried shakiness in her stomach troubled her appetite.
Where are you? I’m not getting a good feeling about these men. Darkness seeped throughout her thoughts, and she struggled to sit still.
Bremen looked at her casually. “After we spoke last night, Jorg agreed to stay with us, at least for a time, since your path is through the fells, same as ours.”
Ingrid swallowed down a lump in her throat and stared at the bowl in her lap. A sidelong glance to Selby rattled her nerves as her friend also appeared uneasy. Act strong, be strong.
Determined not to reveal weakness, she lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders, ignoring the trepidation. Perhaps Jorg was scouting the area or hunting, as he did sometimes in the early morning. She would wait a while longer, though frustration bubbled within.
As they ate, Ingrid kept noticing Greer hiding a yawn, as did several others sitting near them. Tents were being struck all around them, and as men walked by, more than one stared at their group, many of them stifling yawns as well.
“Several men appear exhausted this morning. Did we miss a celebration after we left last night?” Ingrid asked, trying to make polite conversation to ease her nerves.
All the men around their fire grew silent and stopped eating, their faces marred with angry scowls. Ingrid swallowed the bite she was chewing and sat still, realizing she had said something wrong.
“As I mentioned last night, superstitions run deep. Many of the men stayed awake,” Bremen answered, “so they wouldn’t dream.”
“Ah.” Ingrid then remembered how they thought Jorg could control their minds and actions while they slept. A chill ran down her spine, and she wished again for Jorg to join them.
Then as if by force Ingrid’s eyes jerked up to stare at a man dismantling a nearby tent. Rather than lay the crossbeam to the ground, he let it fall.
Time slowed as Ingrid watched it land against a branch, the force of the beam lifting the branch into the air. The man lost his footing and tumbled down, the branch ripping through his thigh.
Before the entire incident had finished, Ingrid was on her feet letting her trencher clatter to the ground. The thrum of energy pounded against her chest as the bead on her necklace bloomed and glowed. A bright amber tinted her vision yet made every detail vivid and distinct.
The promise she’d made to Jorg echoed in her thoughts as she kept her feet planted. Blood pooled under the man’s leg enough for her to see from where she stood. She stayed anchored in place though her hands blazed like fire, and she wrapped them around the bead.
A flurry of commotion sent men scrambling to help. Tearing shirts and pressing against the gaping wound. Bremen called out orders and hurried over, bending down to speak in the Gaelic tongue.
From the corner of her eye, Ingrid saw Selby take slow steps closer toward the panicked group. Creases lined her forehead as she st
ared over her shoulder at Ingrid.
Drum beats sounded in her ears as Ingrid’s heart raced, and the air squeezed from her lungs. A shake of her head pleaded with Selby before her friend turned away from her. These men couldn’t discover her identity. If they found out who she was they’d give her to the druht. No one would pass up an easy reward.
“Ingrid can help!” Selby shouted over the din.
Her voice slammed into Ingrid like an axe.
Bremen stood and spun in her direction, moving with haste to stand in front of her. “What does that mean?” Staring at Ingrid, his eyes grew wide. “Are you a healer?”
Selby nodded. “She is, let her touch him.”
“Selby, don’t.” Ingrid hated the way her voice sounded weak and pleading as her chest rose and fell quicker.
Before Ingrid could run, Bremen snatched her arm and dragged her toward the crowd, yelling for a path to clear. Selby followed behind.
Ingrid’s knees squelched into the mud made by the man’s blood as she fell next to him. Overwhelmed, her instincts took over. She ripped off her gauntlets and placed her hands against the pulsing injury. The torn flesh showed inside her mind behind her closed lids.
First, she concentrated on knitting together the torn veins where the blood flowed profusely, then she watched as tiny splinters released and washed away before each side of the gash folded together and closed, leaving unmarred skin.
No sound penetrated her mind, only the warm, sticky blood on her hands and the coppery aroma of it filling her nose. The tingle of energy flowed from deep inside of her to the damaged skin.
As the wound completed its healing, sounds drifted back to her consciousness. The distant hammering of boards, the camaraderie of the men as they worked, the ragged breaths of the man under her palms, and the cool shade of bodies huddled over her blocking the daylight.
As she lifted her hands away from the man and opened her eyes, his panic-riddled expression stared back at her. A hard lump formed in her throat that she swallowed down and sat back on her heels.
Amber Magic (The Viking Maiden series Book 2) Page 8