Amber Magic (The Viking Maiden series Book 2)

by Kelly N. Jane

  “Every year back at home, there are fields left to sallow,” Selby said. “Depending on the need, some of them are fired to better prepare the soil for the next year’s crops. If we hurry, couldn’t we do that to the ditch? That way, when the fires reach it, there will be nothing left to burn.”

  Bremen stared at her. His eyes glittered with a hardened satisfaction, a warrior ready and eager for action.

  21

  Preparations for the upcoming battle were in full swing the next day. Forges blazed as smiths pounded more chains into shape. Every kettle that could be found was heated over small flames, wafting the pungent aroma of tar through the air.

  Every man met in the courtyard to sharpen steel or fashion arrows between exercise sessions and drills. Selby trained alongside Bremen and the other men, while Ingrid sparred with Jorg so he could teach her how to use different weapons.

  After the meeting in Bremen’s council room, Gavin had given Ingrid back her daggers which he’d found in the woods. She’d thanked him, especially relieved to have the bone-handled blade Jorg had given her returned.

  “I still don’t understand why this is necessary? I can use a hammer and my daggers. Besides, I proved I can fight without weapons in the forest,” Ingrid said. She gave a quick shudder as she recalled the hammer made especially for her in Jorvik, and the shipwreck that caused her to lose it.

  “A hammer is a strength weapon. The one you had was lighter, unique. You used it well, but it is not the right choice for you,” Jorg said as he held out an axe. “And using your abilities in the forest left you drained. A smart warrior will give themselves options.”

  Ingrid rolled her eyes and bit her cheek as she stared at him, finally taking the axe. “I’m not that weak, you know.”

  Jorg gave her a challenging, blazing stare that made her heart leap and distracted her focus on fight training. Too fast for her to react, Jorg was behind her with an arm around her throat and her wrists trapped by his other hand.

  “So, use your strength against me then.” His voice held the timber of a man ready for battle, and while it was a bit exciting, especially said into her ear, it was also frightening. Ingrid swallowed hard and tried to wrench herself free, without a sliver of progress.

  “Have you tried yet?” Jorg taunted.

  Ingrid flattened her lips, no longer warmed by his touch but annoyed at her helplessness. Frustrated with another failed attempt to wiggle free, she closed her eyes and reached for the energy coiled inside herself. It responded in a flash, and she pushed it into her hands before letting it loose. She stumbled forward once she was free from Jorg’s grip and standing alone.

  “Ha! See, I can . . .” she teased but froze when she turned around. Over her shoulder she heard Selby gasp. The entire yard, full of training soldiers, halted and stared between Ingrid and Jorg. She held her breath, and her pulse beat like a drum in her ears.

  Across the yard, Jorg picked himself up from the ground amid a pile of broken crates, but before he could get to his feet, he fell backward again. Ingrid screamed and ran toward him as did several others.

  “Get back, let her have room,” Selby yelled.

  Ingrid ignored everyone else as she bent over Jorg, his muscles rigid and his face contorted into a grimace. “Where does it hurt most?” she asked. Jorg let out a groan and grabbed his side with a hiss.

  Gently, Ingrid placed her hand just below his ribs and felt the warm, stickiness of blood as the coppery odor filtered into the air. Because of the angle of his body and the other pieces of wood all around him, she couldn’t get a good enough grip to pull out the broken shard sticking into his side. She pulled her hand away from his body and heard mutterings from the onlookers.

  “Help me! I need to get him out of this pile and onto his side.”

  Bremen and another man pushed forward and shifted Jorg to the smooth dirt of the courtyard. Ingrid wanted to break apart inside, but instead, she closed her eyes and brought forward her energy once more. Shaky and irregular, she fought for control of her emotions. Bremen held Jorg’s shoulders to keep him positioned on his side, and Ingrid kneeled next to his back.

  With a hard swallow, she closed her eyes and took a firm hold of the protruding stake before she pulled with all her strength. It took two tries and Jorg grunted, his knuckles white as he clenched through the pain.

  As soon as the wood was removed, Ingrid immediately placed both hands over the wound while blood spilled between her fingers. Sounds around her slipped away as her energy washed through her and out her hands, like it always did.

  The blood slowed under her palm, and the tissue of his skin knitted back together. Then flashes of light hindered her vision along the pathway she tried to follow. Something fought against her, and she pushed harder. Locked in a battle of wills, exhaustion crept through her. As she rallied to force another attempt, hands ripped her away from Jorg, so she landed hard on her backside.

  “No! I’m not finished,” she screamed, and scrambled back toward Jorg. She was again pulled away and held tight, so she couldn’t move. Drained, her powers faded back into her middle and sounds returned to her.

  “You need to stop, something isn’t right.”

  Ingrid shook her head. It was Selby’s voice she thought she heard and turned toward the sound to see her friend’s wide eyes staring back at her. Selby placed her hands on both sides of Ingrid’s face.

  “Look at me. Blink when you can focus again,” Selby said.

  Ingrid let out a whoosh of air and blinked several times. “I can hear you,” she whispered. “What happened? Why did you stop me? He isn’t healed yet.”

  “You were hurting him. I don’t understand how any of this works, but he was screaming.”

  The blood left Ingrid’s face, and everything inside grew cold. “Let me see him.”

  Selby released her, so she could turn toward Jorg. He lay on his back, unmoving with his eyes closed and a pained expression on his face. She stared at his chest, watching for it to rise and fall, nearly collapsing in on herself when it did.

  How could she have done such a thing? She’d learned so much about bringing her powers forward, but she had no control of them. He had to be okay. Please don’t leave me.

  Deep creases furrowed his brows, and his skin looked clammy. Unable to stop a tear from falling, it landed on his cheek. “Jorg?” Please open your eyes. Tell me that you’re okay.

  A whimpering sound escaped as she tried to contain her worry, but when his fingers slid over and touched her hand, her tears flowed unrestrained. Without thought to anything except relief, she laid her head against his chest and mumbled “Thank the gods.” Over and over.

  “Let’s get him inside,” Bremen said softly over Ingrid’s head, but she didn’t want to move.

  “Ingrid, let us move him so he can get somewhere more comfortable. Come with me.” Selby gently pulled Ingrid away. They stood off to the side as Bremen and another man lifted Jorg and carried him, while Gavin cleared the way ahead, so they could walk faster.

  Selby and Ingrid followed closely behind. Ingrid wasn’t sure how she was able to walk because her knees felt so weak, so she was thankful for Selby’s arm around her waist. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts trying to figure out what had happened.

  The men carried Jorg up the stairs and into his room. He moaned when laid onto the mattress, and it pierced Ingrid’s heart like a spear. With heavy legs, she approached his side letting the others fall back to give her space.

  Jorg’s face was pale as she scooted onto the side of the bed next to him, watching his shallow breaths and pain-lined face. Tears stained her cheeks, and her hand shook as she touched two fingers to his lips.

  I’m so sorry. Please forgive me for what I’ve done. I never meant to cause pain, especially never to you.

  Jorg rolled his head toward her, opening his eyes to little more than slits. He brushed her thigh with his fingers. Ingrid startled at his touch and picked up his hand, holding it between both of hers.


  “I made things worse, not better. You have to be all right,” she said.

  Jorg whispered something she couldn’t hear so she brought her ear close to his mouth. “I will recover. Don’t worry.”

  “I almost killed you,” her breath hitched, and she stuttered. “Something went wrong. I . . . I didn’t know what to do.”

  A slight pressure on her hand made her look down. Jorg was so weak, his touch barely registered as he tried to squeeze. She laid her head on his chest, letting tears soak into his tunic.

  Ingrid shifted herself onto the bed and curled herself against Jorg as he lost consciousness, refusing to leave him. The others in the room slipped quietly away and shut the door, leaving them to themselves.

  Ingrid stirred later in the night, her body stiff from lack of movement, and stared at a part of the moon that showed through the narrow window of Jorg’s room. Not until she’d let her head rise and fall with Jorg’s breathing—his heartbeat faint, but steady, under her ear—did she allow herself to believe he would be safe.

  Slowly, she sat up and stared at his handsome face. He seemed more peaceful in sleep than he had been earlier. A hint of a smile crept across her face, and she brushed a lock of his hair away.

  She’d grown too dangerous. Without more control over her abilities, she couldn’t be trusted. Gavin had fallen with a burn from her touch, and she’d been dizzy then. This time, she didn’t even have to touch Jorg for him to fly backward, and she had remained strong and steady.

  There was more she needed to learn before the next person she injured didn’t survive.

  “I will come back. Grow strong while I make sure nothing like this ever happens again. I love you,” Ingrid whispered before she kissed his cheek and then another quick one to his still lips.

  Sliding off the bed, she looked over him one more time before crossing the room and heading out into the hall. Leaning against the closed door, she steadied herself.

  “I’ll never make a difference . . . not until I can figure out how to heal without hurting. Please understand why I had to go,” she whispered into the darkness.

  She made her way outside and kept to the shadows across the courtyard to avoid confrontation or the need to explain herself. When the guard turned his back at the gatehouse, Ingrid left through a door next to the closed bridge, then scrambled through the ditch and into the trees unseen.

  Alone in the center of the meadow, Ingrid closed her eyes and felt for her power. Coiled deep, it held a faint hum that stayed where it was no matter how she tried to pull it forward. Tears rolled freely down her cheeks as she stood there.

  How can I ever expect to fulfill my destiny? The Norns have made a mistake charging me with such a task. Even my powers recognize that I am not worthy to command them.

  Anger welled up in her chest as she cried. Lifting her chin to the skies, she yelled to the stars. “No, I will not believe that! Glory and honor are still ahead of me if I will only work harder. I am stronger, but I don’t have control. I can learn, and I will.”

  With her eyes closed once again, she renewed her attempt to call upon the powers hiding within her and felt them spark to life. She sighed in relief and pulled them up through her chest and down to her fingertips, ready and available.

  When she opened her eyes once more, the meadow was bright as midday through her golden-hued vision, and she ambled forward, aware of every living plant, animal, and insect that surrounded her.

  Drawn to the base of a tree, she found an owlet on the ground suffering from a fall out of its nest. She kneeled and scooped the young bird into her hand and gently massaged its small chest with two fingers, until the tingle of life flowed into its body.

  When the owlet squeaked and tried to rise, she stopped her fingers and smiled at its fuzzy awkwardness. Looking up into the tree she saw two glowing eyes peering down upon her and nodded, placing the tiny bird onto the ground before she stepped away.

  A brush of wind ruffled Ingrid’s hair as silent wings swooped past her, picked up the owlet with gentle talons and disappeared into the treetops.

  While resuming her walk, she touched trees, brush, and flowers, causing them to flare with new growth. The shimmer of a web caught her attention, and she watched a spider almost half the size of her fist spinning and weaving an intricate pattern through the leaves of a gorse bush. The plant’s vanilla fragrance blushed the night air as she stood watching. Ingrid tore her eyes away from the industrious web-maker and stared at the ground.

  A curiosity provoked her. I need to know . . .

  As close to the web as she could stand without disturbing it, she reached out with one finger and touched the spider. Within seconds its legs curled and shriveled in on itself as life left its body.

  A hiccupped sigh escaped Ingrid as she looked at the carcass of the once-living being she had destroyed. But a spark of fascination simmered in her brain, bringing forth an idea. She reached out to touch the spider once more.

  Her mind filled with thoughts of life and vitality. The flow of energy pulsed through her fingers, and her eyes snapped wide as the spider unfolded its legs. Once again it hurried on its way to weave its web as if it hadn’t been interrupted by death.

  Ingrid pulled away and gasped. Though she’d induced the scenario, it still startled her. How is that possible?

  A sense of life behind her pricked at her nerves, and Ingrid twisted to see Eir standing a few feet away from her, watching.

  “Did you see what I did?” Ingrid asked, a slight shake to her voice.

  “Of course,” Eir answered.

  “How? I don’t understand.”

  “If you didn’t think it was possible, you wouldn’t have tried it. Look inside of yourself and you will find the answer you are not allowing yourself to believe. You have far more abilities than you will accept, but it is within your grasp.”

  “I almost killed Jorg earlier.” The words burst out of her, gaining a small sense of relief at the admission.

  “Yes.”

  Ingrid swallowed. “Would I have been able to bring him back like the spider if no one had stopped me?”

  “Would you have believed you could?”

  “No.”

  “Then you have your answer. Come, Ingrid, it’s time to devote yourself to your abilities.” Eir reached out her hand as Ingrid shuffled closer, placed hers into the goddess’s palm and held her breath.

  A gentle breeze brushed against her cheek, her eyes fluttered, and she was no longer in the meadow. All around her was a forest, thick with trees whose branches flowed in all directions as if floating in water.

  Lichen and hanging moss draped them in colors from light yellow to deep emerald. Mushrooms in every hue of pink, purple, and orange sprouted from everywhere. Cool but not uncomfortable in the shade, Ingrid turned a slow circle and let the sweet aroma of flowers, honey, and ginger fill her senses.

  Life and energy pulsed into the air. It flowed through her, mingling with her own forces as if she wasn’t bound by the limitations of her body. It was no ordinary forest. Soul-deep nourishment revitalized her senses and awakened pathways of awareness she’d never known before.

  “Where is this?” she asked in a voice filled with reverence.

  “This is, Lyfjaberg, the Healing Mountain of Asgard, my home. We will stay here in a small cottage that I use for myself when I need to study. It’s located away from the Castle of Menglod, at the top of the mountain, so you won’t be distracted. The Healing Mountain is the lifeblood of Asgard. The branches of the Yggdrasil tree make up this forest, and there is no other force of nature more powerful or pure.”

  The base of an ancient looking tree next to Ingrid was so large, she knew that if she held hands with Selby and Jorg and they all stretched their arms wide, they’d still only make it half-way round. Ingrid was so awed by the gnarled trunk and bark that looked rough but felt soft like velvet, she almost missed Eir as she sauntered around the bend.

  Ingrid hurried after her. The air in front of
the goddess shimmered as a arched door appeared in the center of the massive trunk. She gasped, remembering how the völva’s cabin had appeared the same way.

  “How do you do that?” Ingrid asked as she crossed through the secret entrance.

  “It’s a simple glamour to keep out prying eyes. I prefer my privacy.”

  The inside opened to a cozy room. One large cushioned chair with a padded footstool sat in the corner facing a fireplace on the opposite wall. The mantle looked carved from branches, but on closer inspection, it was the actual roots of the tree wrapped and woven into a pattern and shaped around the opening.

  Ingrid turned a slow circle and realized that everything in the room gushed strength and vitality. Life flowed around her in a tangible way, tingling on her face like a soothing mist, absorbing into her skin, just as it had done outside. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, the coil of power in her middle seemed to sigh as if it, too, felt refreshed.

  Eir stood behind her under an arched doorway leading to another room. Ingrid twisted and smiled over her shoulder. “When can we train?”

  “Follow me,” Eir said and stepped into the adjoining room.

  Upon entering, Ingrid stopped and stared. It was a large room with shelves and workbenches lining all the walls and several oversized wooden work tables arranged in the middle. Every shelf or surface was full of glass jars, wooden boxes, books—some on shelves and some laying open and piled on top of others.

  Dried herbs hung upside down from the ceiling, giving off an intoxicating array of scents that made it impossible to differentiate individual smells. No sconces hung from the walls. There were no windows and not a single candle flickered anywhere, yet the room was as bright as midday.

  The hairs on Ingrid’s arms lifted, and a swirl of unrest twisted her gut. She’d been in a room like this before, and it had assaulted her senses in the same way. How can this be?