Beyond a Darkened Shore

by Jessica Leake

  I looked at Leif. “The seer is a woman?”

  “Most with such power are women. Are you surprised?” he added with a raised eyebrow. “The jötnar want us to believe they want to overthrow the gods and free mankind, but the seer believes the opposite is true. They want control of Asgard and the mortal realm of Midgard—to rule the world with all humans as their subjects. Odin’s own mother is jötnar; they believe they have a claim.”

  Horror dwelled in the pit of my stomach. “And they plan to do this by slaughtering us?”

  “Fear is a powerful motivator. They’ve spared the ones who have joined forces with them—they will need someone alive to worship them, after all.”

  In my mind, I saw Éirinn turn to ashes.

  I felt colder than I ever had, as if I stood in the midst of a furious blizzard. Goose bumps erupted over my skin, and I could see this world he spoke of. Ruled by men who unleashed evil on us all.

  We fell into a mutually disturbed silence.

  “We shouldn’t keep watch tonight,” Leif said after some time, his voice as low as the crackling fire. “It is better if we both sleep. We’ll need our strength tomorrow.”

  I shook out my cloak and covered myself with it, neck to toe, until only my head was visible. I curled up on my side, my back to the Northman. If I wasn’t too tired to care, I would undoubtedly lie awake all night, self-conscious about my close proximity to a man not of my own blood. And an enemy besides.

  “You are so sure my clansmen won’t follow?” I asked.

  “I never sleep deeply. You have nothing to fear.”

  Why would I fear my own clansmen? I thought, but soon, sleep was upon me, washing me into a sea of darkness.

  I awoke slowly, with the sensation I was being watched. It was still dark, the moon covered by clouds and the sky an endless black. The fire had died down to a small flame, and I was chilled with only my cloak to cover me. My eyes adjusted to the darker edges surrounding the dying fire, until I could make out shapes: plants near the shore, larger river rocks, and the river itself.

  Movement near the water’s edge captured my attention, and I stiffened. It was a horse, as deep black in color as the night sky, its eyes reflecting the low light back to me with an eerie yellow glow.

  “God save us,” I whispered, and crossed myself.

  “It’s been watching us for some time now,” Leif whispered. He lay motionless, but I could see the tautness of his muscles, as though he was ready to spring to his feet.

  Sleipnir pawed the ground to my left, ears pricked toward the each-uisce near the river.

  “Do not stare too long into its eyes,” I warned. A chill of unease spread over me. I shifted into a crouched position as stealthily as possible.

  “Does it guard the river?” Leif asked. “What brought it here?”

  I shook my head as I thought of the story I had told my sisters. “I don’t know. It isn’t unheard of to see an each-uisce, but it’s rare. It’ll try to drown us to feast on our flesh. We mustn’t touch any part of it, or we’ll be ensnared upon its hide.” I glanced at Leif.

  He nodded once. “How do we defeat it?”

  “We can’t. We must wait for the dawn. If we try to escape now, it will only give chase.”

  He snorted. “Everything can be killed. What is its weakness?”

  The each-uisce took a few steps toward us, but its gaze seemed focused on our fire. It tossed its head as though frustrated. Droplets of water flew from its dripping-wet mane. It paced, more as a wild cat or wolf would do than a horse, seeking our weak point. But we had solid rock to our backs, an outcropping from a steep hillside behind us, and a fire, though dying, before us. After a moment, it released a bloodcurdling neigh, high-pitched as a scream, its frustration evident.

  Then it seemed to undulate before us, its skin shivering in the night. It transformed from a slick water horse into a man of such dark beauty, even I felt his siren call. His hair was long and black, his body leanly muscular.

  “Come, my beauty,” he said. “I have been waiting for you.”

  A fog seemed to descend upon my mind, and I was caught in that twilight between dreams and reality.

  I came to my feet, and the beautiful man held out his hand, beckoning.

  The rational part of my mind commanded my legs not to move, but they did not listen. I had always considered my mind to be powerful, but as I strained and fought against the each-uisce, I quickly realized my defenses were as weak as a child’s.

  I took a step forward.

  Beside me, Leif surged to his feet and pulled me to his side. “What has come over you? You see a pretty man and suddenly you abandon all sense?”

  Help me, I thought. I have lost control of myself.

  “What is your name, maiden?” the each-uisce asked.

  “Do not answer him,” Leif said in a growl even as my lips parted and spoke my name.

  “Ciara,” the each-uisce repeated, his voice more beautiful than a symphony of angels.

  With my true name spoken from the demon’s mouth, my mind seemed to shatter.

  Who am I? I thought dreamily.

  The man before me was so beautiful, and he watched me with such a captivating look in his eyes. I glanced down at the hand restraining me, and I snarled in frustration.

  Who is this boy who restrains me? I must go to the other—the one who is so beautiful—he needs me.

  The boy tightened his hold on my arm, and I struggled wildly against him, like a feral cat caught in a net.

  “Be still!” the boy shouted, but I only struggled all the harder.

  The beautiful man beckoned me again, and the hateful one shoved me behind him, his big body blocking my view. He backed us into the rock until the stone was pressed against my spine, trapping me.

  “Ciara, my dark-haired beauty,” the beautiful man said, and I struggled ever harder, the stone painful against my back. I pushed against the hateful one with everything I had, but still, he would not move.

  The beautiful man reached out to me, and all at once, the fog in my mind deepened. Everything else disappeared—the rock at my back, the hateful one, the horse as black as pitch. All but the beautiful man and the river before me.

  Why do you hide behind your enemy, Ciara? His hypnotic voice reverberated through my mind. He is a plague, just like the giants from his land who will soon turn our world to ash, yet you follow him willingly. You have betrayed your family.

  Disgust sat in my stomach, dark and oily. I thought of the many Northmen I had battled; men who had killed my clansmen and sister. Men who had pillaged and burned monasteries. And I had turned away from my clan and joined them.

  In my mind, my sisters appeared before me, pale and shaken. Why did you leave us, Ciara? Bran asked. Tears tracked down Deirdre’s face. Behind them, my mother appeared. I always knew you would betray us in the end, she said.

  Deirdre reached out her hand, and I tried to take it.

  “No!” a deep voice shouted, penetrating the fog.

  For a moment, I could almost think clearly, and then the beautiful man spoke again. The Northman lies, Ciara. He has led you astray. He is in league with the giants. You must destroy him and escape. Only I can help you now.

  A black anger boiled up from within me, filling my body with an inhuman strength. I exploded past Leif and grabbed my sword.

  Before me, Leif’s face seemed to flicker and change, his features becoming more dragon-like. Distantly, I wondered if my mind had finally broken.

  Kill him, the melodic voice said. See how he is revealing his true form? The Northmen are nothing more than dragons who pillage and burn.

  I raised my sword. My arm shook as I fought against the force holding my mind captive. There was a reason I shouldn’t attack this particular Northman . . . what was it?

  The Northman would like nothing more than to murder your sisters, the voice said, more insistent this time.

  A wave of burning anger crashed down upon me, but still I fought it. There was
something about those words . . . something that rang false. It wasn’t the Northman who would kill my sisters. . . .

  My sisters . . . their faces flickered into my mind. Branna, her jaw set and determined. Deirdre, her eyes soft and sweet. Alana . . .

  The power that gripped my mind tried to strengthen its hold, and in that moment, I regained enough control of myself to know one thing:

  I had to fight back.

  Intense pain shot through my head as though a sword had smashed my skull, but still I pushed against the outside mind. It was the opposite of what I did to control another’s mind: I thrust the each-uisce’s power away instead of reaching toward it. He held on tenaciously, like a wild cat scrabbling for purchase on its prey, but I proved stronger. With one more powerful push with my mind, the each-uisce stumbled back and fell, as though I had physically pushed him.

  The fogginess that had permeated my mind dissipated as though a strong wind had blown it away. The each-uisce tried to stand again. Before he could, Leif brought my sword down in a sweeping arc. It cleaved the each-uisce from shoulder to hip, dividing his body. Both sides crumpled to the ground, dark blood pouring out in the weak dawn light.

  I met Leif’s gaze, and we both panted for breath. Gone was any indication that he was anything less than human. The each-uisce had preyed upon my deepest fears—even the nightmares that Northmen were dragons wearing human skin.

  Leif shook his head. “I thought I had lost you.”

  Breathing hard, I stared at the dead each-uisce at our feet. One less demon to threaten the children of Éirinn. How shameful that I fell victim to its spell, when even the child in the story I told my sisters had not. I couldn’t help but shudder, though, as I realized that everything I’d felt in the grip of the each-uisce’s mind control must be exactly what my victims experienced. Victims who included many of my clansmen.

  “Thank you for helping me,” I said to Leif.

  “You saved yourself.” He handed my sword back to me. With the sun rising behind us, he rubbed the back of his neck before saying abruptly, “I will hunt us something to break our fast, and then we should continue to Dyflin.”

  He strode away without waiting for my response, and I let the sword slip from my hand. I was glad for Leif’s absence, for I was shaking violently. Being trapped in the each-uisce’s mind control had made me realize just how terrifying my abilities were.

  The each-uisce was malevolent and powerful, but still, I understood it.

  Worse still was the realization that while the battle with the each-uisce had been a struggle, it was nothing compared to what we would face with the jötnar.

  8

  With an afternoon sun intermittently hidden by clouds, we rode through a field of wheat, headed south toward Dubhlinn. The wind made the field seem like a golden sea as it blew the grasses like waves. I held out my hand as we passed, allowing the grain to brush against my palm. The wind was strong today; it tugged at my hair like a child before throwing it back in my face. Sleipnir’s mane, too, billowed back onto my arms.

  The farther we traveled through Mide, and the farther we traveled from my home, the more depressed my mood became. My father would have made the proclamation of my exile official by now. He would have forbidden anyone from seeking me out, though only Fergus would think of doing so. It wouldn’t be the first time Áthair had forbidden others from following me, only this time, he didn’t need to.

  I had been younger than Branna then, and it was my second battle. My power was so new to me that I was barely able to understand it, much less able to successfully control it. When my father received word that Northmen were raiding along our northern coast, he took a small contingent of twenty men, including me, to stop them. When we finally reached the village, we were greeted by the dying screams of the people there. Most of them had gathered in the church for safety, but the Northmen had set it on fire to burn them out. They wanted the treasures contained within: the golden tabernacle, the chalice of silver and gemstones, pieces of silver and gold to honor God.

  Two women were dragged out in chains, and seeing them plead with two merciless Northmen, their faces twisted with terror, unleashed something within me. Remnants of my own painful grief over my sister’s death and rage over what was happening to the women before me broke over me like a wave upon the shore. I reached out and took control of the Northman who held the women’s chains. I forced him to turn his weapon on himself, slitting his own throat with the edge of his axe. As soon as his blood flowed, I released his mind, delighting in the sheer panic I saw on his face.

  Slack-jawed, the other man had watched his comrade kill himself. I reached out and took control of him, too, but instead of having him immediately take his own life, I forced him to slaughter the majority of his unsuspecting friends. Each man reacted in the same way: complete shock and disbelief that one of their own should turn on them.

  They were as easy to kill as lambs.

  The villagers had reacted to me not as their savior, but rather as a monster to be feared. They ran screaming from me just as they had run from the Northmen. As I stood amid the destruction, the rage that had brought it about disappeared as quickly as it had come. But it was when I saw the fear in my own clansmen’s eyes that I leaped astride Sleipnir and ran.

  Tears had blinded me, and Sleipnir galloped without direction. Before long, I was hopelessly lost in my own kingdom. When night fell, we took shelter in a cave, and as I stayed close to my horse for warmth, I told myself my father would come for me.

  When dawn broke over the cave, it was Fergus who found me.

  “Did my father send you?” I had asked.

  He shook his head, the pity filling his eyes. “No, milady.”

  It was then I had realized that not only would I have to wrest control of the power within me, I could no longer rely on anyone but myself.

  In the distance, white sheep bleated, drawing my attention away from my melancholy thoughts. Smoke from a small, stone farmhouse drifted toward the sky. The wind carried the smell of it to me: wood burning and freshly baked bread. A path cut through the earth toward the little farmhouse, worn down by wagons and horses, but Leif kept Sleipnir firmly pointed south.

  “How do you know the way to Dubhlinn?” I asked. I was surprised he was guiding us so easily without well-worn paths or the coast for reference.

  “My father has maps of this land, and he had me study them long before I ever sailed on my first longship.”

  My jaw tensed. “So you could find the prime areas for raids?”

  “Yes,” he said without contrition, “but also because it’s dangerous to sail to a completely unknown land.”

  I couldn’t fault the wisdom in that, and it rankled. “Is your father still alive?”

  “He is.”

  I thought of the many battles I’d fought with my own father. Strange that Leif’s father wasn’t with him. “Does he sail his own longship, then? Laying siege to other innocent monasteries?”

  “Not anymore,” he said. The amusement in his voice made my teeth clench. “I sail his longships for him now.” He was quiet for a moment before adding, “One day when he is tired of this world, he’ll join us on raids until he falls in battle.”

  I could hear the despondency in his voice, but also pride. “Valhalla again?”

  He let out a breath in a quiet laugh. “Yes, Valhalla.”

  I knew enough of the Northmen to know that it was impressive that Leif led the raids at only eighteen. We fell silent again, as Sleipnir continued steadily on.

  But when next we stopped for water, Leif stopped me before I could climb astride. “I asked you once before, and I think now would be as good a time as any. Will you spar with me?”

  I shrugged, even as I itched for the chance to prove myself capable with a blade. “How will we practice with only one sword?”

  He pulled out his dagger. “I’ll attack with this, and you’ll deflect with your sword.”

  I glanced at his distinctly smaller we
apon with no small amount of skepticism, but in the end, I found I didn’t care if he sustained a few nicks. I took hold of my broadsword with both hands and readied myself.

  He attacked, so fast his body was a blur. It was nothing like fighting him the first time, and I realized with a cold trickle of horror down my spine that my instincts had been correct that day: he had been holding back. Instinctively, I raised my sword to protect my face, using the sharp side to deflect his blows.

  “No,” Leif said, halting abruptly. “Never use the edge of your sword to displace an attack. It will dull and weaken the metal.” He stepped forward and took hold of my hands. “Use the flat of the blade.” He gently rotated my wrists until the flat of the sword pointed outward.

  I nodded slowly, already surprised to learn I’d been deflecting incorrectly for years. “Again.”

  It was unfathomable—he was attacking me with a dagger, and yet all I could do was try to block him. I danced and wove, trying to ward off the blows. Very soon, my arms and legs began to fatigue.

  Leif relented. “You are tired?”

  I panted in answer, and he smiled. He was enjoying this.

  “That’s because you’re using ridiculous wide, sweeping motions.” He gestured for me to hand over the sword, and I did so with narrowed eyes. Ridiculous indeed. He demonstrated what he meant, swinging the sword in a wide arc in front of us. The taut muscles in his arms bulged. “Instead, make your motions small, deliberate.” He made a small twist of his wrist, as though deflecting an attack. “You want to set aside your opponent’s blow so his thrust is broken but yours connects.”

  “Or I could take control of him mentally and have him fall upon my sword,” I said with a mean smile.

  “You could. But how many can you control at once?”

  I shifted uncomfortably. “One.”

  “Then you’re still vulnerable. I’ll try to shield you in battle as best I can, but—”

  “Make no mistake, Northman,” I interrupted, my hands clenched in fists at my sides, “I need no protection from you.”