by Andromeda -
GONG! GONG! GONG!
From upstairs, she could see candles being lit in the houses, and as the lights illuminated the dark, rainy night, the true scene could be seen. Raiders had come Safirinnsjø, and before long, the streets began to run red with blood.
She ran down the stairs and almost tripped over a body. The body of the man who had almost assaulted her, no doubt. Bending down, she grabbed his dagger and then left the body. She had to go find her siblings who were with the children on the other side of the home. She had to find them. She wouldn’t be calm until they were in her arms.
When she found the children’s room, all of them were huddled into a corner, their eyes wide with fear. The moment they saw her, however, they all ran over and hugged her tight.
“It’s alright,” she whispered to them. “It’s alright.”
Looking around, she saw that all the servant children were there, which numbered to be around a dozen and a half. The room wasn’t safe, of course, as it was too closed in, but Rashida knew of a better place. Gathering the children, she led them out of the house and to the stable. Many people would hide their children there if they had an option, and as she pushed them deep into the hay, Rashida felt as if someone else might need her help.
“Stay here,” she said to them. “I’ll be back, I promise.”
She gave the dagger to Nour, as she knew that they would need it more than she, and she went in search of others. She didn’t know what drove her; it must have been the desire to protect this village. Astrid had told her that the job of a Seiðr was to protect both nature and the people of her claimed village. Rashida wasn’t going to part from those lessons.
As she looked around, she could hear the screams of children, the yells of women, and the shouts of men. This was the music of battle, and it needed to be stopped this instant. Lightning crackled in her palms and as she stood in the center of the battle, in the pouring rain, she knew that the time had come for her to reveal herself.
“Lys søke hjerter onde!” Rashida shouted as she thrust her hands out.
The lightning shot from her fingertips and spread out, instantly shocking the raiders who all yelled in pain and collapsed to the ground, their hearts stopped.
Everyone instantly froze and looked to the source of the powerful magic that they had both seen and felt. Everyone turned and saw Rashida. They saw the energy that swirled around her. A fool would understand what that meant. A fool would understand who the girl was.
Instantaneously, they all dropped to their knees in the mud and knelt before their new Seiðr.
Chapter Eight: A New Place
Gala groaned and her nails dug into Henrik’s back as she felt him reach his climax. The man rolled off her, panting heavily to catch his breath.
“Do you think we’ve done it again?” she asked him. “Do you think we have made another child?”
Henrik got up from the bed. “Most likely. With your fertility, it wouldn’t surprise me.”
As he walked to the chamber pot, Gala looked up at the ceiling, unable to stop herself from asking her next question.
“So, what are we going to do about her?”
“Her?” Henrik repeated as he came back into the bed chamber.
“Our slave,” Gala said. “The one called Rashida.”
Henrik shrugged as he climbed back into the bed. “What about her?”
Gala looked at her husband. “Do you not remember what she did?” she asked. “Did you not see the power that girl possessed?”
“She is Seiðr,” Henrik said with a shrug. “I do not see the problem here.”
“She is a threat,” Gala persisted. “What if she turned that power against you?”
Henrik laughed. “I highly doubt that. Do you not know anything about Seiðrs, my dear? They are bound by Freyja to protect their families, their people, and their Jarls if they have one. True, they aren’t bound in obedience, but they are bound by honor, or face the wrath of Freyja.”
Gala scowled at him. She wanted to tell him the truth, the real reason she feared Rashida and her new power. She wanted Henrik to stop being such a fool and think of what might happen when word spread of this powerful Seiðr, who was right on their doorstep this whole time. If Henrik had in brains, he would work to twist this girl to give themselves more power and territory.
“What do you have planned then?” Gala asked. “If you will not use this girl.”
“I am going raiding,” Henrik answered.
“Oh? Where to?” she asked. “Will you be gaining vengeance against those who dared to raid us?”
Henrik shook his head. “No. I have gotten some information recently about a faraway land that is supposed to hold great wealth. I will be taking several of our best warriors, but I am leaving my brother and one-third of them here to protect you.”
Gala almost rolled her eyes. “This information seems useless,” she remarked. “I do not know why you feed into the tales of the merchants.”
“Merchants come from somewhere,” Henrik said back as he rolled over on the bed, his back from her. “I have gotten maps and I plan on following them.”
Gala looked at his back with a frown, but she said nothing. She knew better than to try and argue with him right now. She had seen the maps that he spoke of, and while they looked nothing more than useless scribblings, they must hold some type of value. However, she wished that Henrik would be more conserved with matters closer to home, rather than always looking far out.
The girl Rashida was a threat and she knew it. Henrik might not care, but she did. She had sacrificed too much for the girl to ruin her plans now.
✯✯✯✯✯✯✯
The warm, afternoon light shone down as Rashida left the forest, a basket of herbs under her arm. Yet as she walked down the streets, it wasn’t hard to notice that everyone had stopped what they were doing and were staring at her.
She looked at them, unsure of what to do or say. They parted out of her way. Some of them bowed their heads, and others even reached out to touch her cloak or the edge of her dress. It took her a moment to realize that this was the price of her revealing herself. She had thrown the dice and now had to gamble with the results.
“May the gods bless you,” she heard whispered repeatedly. “May the gods bless you.”
All Rashida knew to do was smile softly and nod, but when a man stepped in her way, she jumped back in surprise. He dropped to his knees before her, and held out a skinned rabbit.
“Seiðr,” he said. “Please have pity on your servant. My son and wife are terribly sick. I have prayed to the gods, but no one has answered. After I saw you…I knew you might be the blessing I have asked for. Please…help me.”
Rashida was nervous, but she knew that she couldn’t refuse a request and nodded to the man. He led her, and about half the town, to his small cottage near the edge of the village.
The smell of sickness was thick in the air the moment he opened the door, and Rashida had to force herself from throwing up. As she walked inside, she heard coughing and the sound of someone heaving. The house was small, with only two rooms, and as she got to the bed chamber, she saw the wife and son. Both were flushed with fever, their bodies shivered and when they coughed, it was scarlet phlegm.
“Please,” the man pleaded again. “Please help them.”
Bravely, Rashida approached the first bed that held the knife and knelt at her side. After an examination, Rashida concluded that the cause of her sickness was thick mucus that was lining her lungs, thus making it hard to breathe and making her cough up blood. The same thing she figured for the son.
She turned to her basket and took out a bundle of herbs. Whispering incantations, the edge of the bundle caught aflame as she began to slowly wave it in the air. The smoke rose and slowly began to fill the air around them, but it wasn’t just the herbs that were going to cure the mother and son.
Rashida arched her back and opened her mouth, taking a deep breath. All the smoke that had filled the room was
sucked into her body, and she held it there for two seconds before she knelt over the mother’s mouth and opened it. With a deep exhale, the smoke, now blue, poured into her mouth. Rashida then quickly moved to the son and did the same thing.
At first, nothing happened, as they were both as still as if they were in the tomb. The man took a step forward, but Rashida signaled for him to stay back. He obeyed. Everyone held their breath to see what would happen next. Both wife and son shot up, their eyes were clear and the flush in their cheeks was gone.
“Mama!” the son cried in delight.
“Jaya!” the man cried as he rushed to them and dropped to his knees.
Rashida swayed slightly as she stood to her feet, but she knew that she had done her job well. She had used a mixture of herbs and magic; the magic to heal and the herbs to draw out the sickness. The process had sucked some of the strength from her body, but she knew that she would recover quickly.
“Thank you,” the man said as he fell to the ground before her. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, my lady.”
“I am only…the vessel of the goddess,” Rashida said slowly. “But I accept your thanks, as does she.”
She looked at the people who were watching her with rapt attention and awe. There was no going back to her normal life now.
✯✯✯✯✯✯✯
Gala watched as Rashida knelt over the flame pit, her hands spread out as she whispered incantations to summon her power. Everyone was here, gathered in the Great Hall as they all wished to hear what prophecy she would speak. Today was the day that Henrik was to leave for his raiding in the faraway lands, and Rashida was asking the gods to bless him and his warriors with safe passage.
Suddenly, to everyone’s shock, the flames exploded, the edges licking the ceiling as Rashida arched her back, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. She held this pose for a full minute before she exhaled and straightened her spine back to normal. The flames slowly died down.
“The gods have spoken,” Rashida exhaled. “My lord, you will find success for this raid. You will return in triumph!”
Everyone raised their voice and cheered. Everyone, that is, but Gala. Gala was fuming at how no one was paying any attention to her and she was the Jarl’s wife. She should be the center of attention right now. She should be the one who saw Henrik off on his raiding expedition, but no.
Ever since that little whore has revealed herself with power, no one listens to me anymore, Gala grumbled to herself. Mayhap it’s time she took a little journey…
Rashida stood, and with her head held high, led Henrik and his warriors from the Great Hall to their awaiting ships. As the men began to board and say their goodbyes to their families, she went to each one and blessed them, asking the gods to keep the occupants safe.
“Your face looks as if you have tasted sour milk,” Henrik remarked to Gala as he bent to kiss her farewell.
“The only thing sour in my presence is a servant girl who thinks she can raise above her station,” Gala said back, though she accepted his kiss.
Henrik’s hand went down to her belly, where it was already swelling again with child. “I want you to be safe, the both of you.”
“We will be safe,” Gala said. “Your brother is staying here, remember?”
Henrik nodded and knelt to kiss the heads of his sons before he walked to his ship. Rashida stood not far from him, and as he passed her, she reached out and gently grasped his arm.
“Do not dally longer what is necessary, my lord,” she said. “I sense grand misfortune if you do.”
Henrik looked at her. He hadn’t ever been this close to her before, and now that he was, he felt a strange feeling. Strong attraction because of her beauty, but also repulsion because of her power. Both of which he knew would be deadly if she were offended, so he patted her hand.
“I will make sure that that does not happen then,” he said.
Rashida watched as he got into the ship before she looked to the skies and summoned a wind to give them an early push. Before they knew it, the ships were disappearing down the river. When Rashida turned around to leave, however, she found herself face to face with Gala.
“My lady,” Rashida said respectfully with a brief bow of her head.
“I saw you talking to my husband,” Gala said. “What did you say?”
Rashida arched an eyebrow. She had half a mind to tell Gala that it wasn’t any of her business what she had discussed with the Jarl, but she was going to try and be nice.
“All I said was for him to not dally in this new world he is searching for,” she finally said. “That is all.”
“That is all?” Gala repeated as if it was a question. “I see.”
“Yes,” Rashida said as she turned to go. “Now, if you will excuse me…”
Gala grabbed her arm tightly. “I did not dismiss you, slave.”
Rashida looked at her hand and then back into Gala’s grey eyes. “With all due respect, my lady, I am a slave in body only. But you and I both know that as a Seiðr, I answer to no one, save the goddess. And she gets extremely angry when her servants are mistreated.”
Gala instantly let her go, as she understood the veiled threat.
Rashida bowed her head, “Thank you for your time, my lady.”
She locked eyes with the older woman, but the threat was still there. Then, she turned on her heel and walked away, her cloak snapped in the wind.
Chapter Nine: The Meaning of Home
Alrik grunted as he swung his axes. His muscles strained as he tried to block his opponent’s swords. Not far away, Ingrid stood, her eyes sharp to take in any mistake that Alrik might make. In his combat training with his mother, Alrik had learned to favor fighting with an axe in each hand, rather than a sword. An axe to him felt better in his hands. He could use a shield when needed, but when it came to battle, he would always have his axes.
With a triumphant yell, he brought his axes down against his opponent’s shield, which made him fall back. Ingrid clapped her hands in congratulations.
“Well done, my son,” she said with a smile. “You did very well.”
Alrik beamed with pride, though he also bent down to help his friend and gave him a playful clap on the back. “Well done to you too.”
His friend smiled and walked off to clean his sword. Ingrid nodded to Alrik to come walk with her.
“I have been thinking of something,” she said as they walked.
“Oh?” Alrik asked. “What might that be?”
“You are nearing your 22nd year,” she said. “And I believe…it is time we return to Safirinnsjø…for you to claim your birthright.”
Alrik looked at her in shock. “You…you mean it?”
“I am not sure of the date as of yet,” she said as they continued to walk. “But I know that it will be soon.”
Alrik nodded, though his mind was not on his childhood home, though he was happy to be returning. His mind was upon the woman he hoped would be waiting for him: Rashida. That night as he laid in his bed, his mind filled with dreams of the nights they would share. His hand wandered downward and wrapped around his manhood. Slowly, he began to stroke it as he imagined her face, the feel of her lips, the taste of her sweetness and more…
✯✯✯✯✯✯✯
Gerik groaned softly as he walked into the kitchen for his morning meal. His head pounded from the wine he had soaked in the night before. He was tired, his stomach slightly sick, but he didn’t care. Whenever his brother Henrik was around, he was forced to portray himself
“You there,” he said to the nearest servant girl he saw. “Bring me some food now!”
The girl turned around and Rashida’s green eyes locked onto the man who had kidnapped her from her home. She hadn’t seen him this close before, as when the ship had landed so many years ago, he seemed to have disappeared. Now, as she looked at him for the first time in years, she felt flashes of anger and resentment towards him, but then, after a second look, those feelings went away.
She looked at him through the eye of the goddess, and through Freyja’s eyes, she could see that Gerik wasn’t an evil man. She could tell that he was just sad inside. She could see flashes of his part, and saw that Henrik was his brother, thus understanding ran through her of his cause. She understood everything.
Without a second thought, she poured hot oat porridge into a pour for him, as well as placed bread and cheese on a plate, and a cup of cold milk before him. Gerik shoved it all down his throat hungrily, but when he was done, Rashida got more food for him.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” he gruffed, his stomach full of food.
“Because I must be,” she said back.
“I stole you from your home,” he said. “Surely, you must hate me for it.”
Rashida took a seat across from him. “I did,” she said. “I used to curse the day that you were born. But after I saw your past, and can see your future, I no longer have the cause to be angry with you.”
“My future?” he scoffed. “What future is there for me?”
She opened her mouth to respond, but the sound of the warning bell made her stand to her feet. Gerik also stood up, and they both rushed outside. A crowd was gathered by the docks, and they pushed themselves forward.
In the distance, they could make out a small fleet of ships, five or six at best. They were gliding over the water quickly, so that meant that they were being rowed instead of relying on the wind to drive them.
“Who is that?” a woman asked. “Jarl Henrik shouldn’t be here yet.”
“That’s because it’s not Jarl Henrik,” Gerik said. “It’s one of our rivals.”
“Who is that?” Rashida asked.
“An old Jarl with an axe to grind,” Gerik said. “He must have waited until Henrik left to attack us.”