Lord of the Mountains

by Sabrina Jarema

  Silvi had read for people at home, but she knew all of them. Would that make a difference? Could the runes speak to her in a strange place? Eirik had an innate talent for seeing into people and, no doubt, it aided him. She had little knowledge of people. The runes weren’t her strongest talent, as they were her mother’s and Eirik’s. Still, she had to try.

  In the eyes of these women there was the same hope, excitement, and respect that followed Lifa whenever she visited a village. Except this time, it was for her.

  * * *

  They stopped by several cottages and Magnus spoke to the artisans there, introducing her as though it was important they know her. She couldn’t remember all their names, but she was amazed at the beauty of their work—the gold- and silversmiths, the stone- and woodcarvers, the weavers and spinners. A glassmaker formed beads with colors swirling inside, and he gave her one of them to close the neck of a gown. Many of the artisans worked outside, if they could, for it was a rare, beautiful day. As they left one of the houses, Magnus took her hand. Her palm tingled where he grasped it.

  “There’s Ingeborg. She’s our healer. One of my warriors was injured in the battle and I want to see how he’s doing. He lives down in the valley, but she would know anyhow. I think she knows everything here.”

  He led her to the front of a small cottage where an older woman was tending an herb garden. “Ingeborg, I’ve brought someone for you to meet.” They stopped in front of her as the woman straightened. “This is Silvi, Eirik’s sister.”

  “I heard he and Asa were back, along with his family. I would know that she is his sister. Their eyes are the same shape. Welcome, child. Please come in, out of the sun.” When they stepped into the small house, Ingeborg reached for Silvi’s hands, and Magnus had to relinquish his hold on her. “Such soft hands you have. So beautiful. Are you trained in the healing arts, child? You should be.”

  Silvi drew them gently from her grasp. “I know of them from my mother. I’ve followed her all my life and helped her. I don’t know as much as she does, but I can assist with some things. And I do know herbs.”

  “That is good. All women should have such knowledge.”

  “Just don’t get a belly wound while you’re here, Silvi.” Magnus regarded Ingeborg with a straight face. “She’ll pour my expensive wine, imported from the Rhineland, inside you, then stuff you full of leeks. It’s better, some think, to die and go to Valhalla. At least you’d be safe from her tender mercies there.”

  “I give you leeks so I can smell if your stomach has been opened. I’m just a humble healer woman, and I do my best to keep all of you from visiting Valhalla too soon. Sometimes I have to wrestle the gods for one of you. Now and again, they let me win.”

  “And we thank you.” His voice was soft.

  “Humph.” She turned her faded gaze on Silvi. “That would be the day. They come to me with the tiniest splinter, even the strongest of them.”

  “We do not.”

  “You’d be surprised who slinks in here, whining about nothing, when no one is about.”

  He grinned. “I think you spin tales, old woman. None of my warriors whine.”

  “They whine. And they show me more respect than you do. Don’t forget, I pulled you from your mother’s womb, though you fought your way past Leif to come out first. I had to push him back inside so you could have your way. Some things never change.”

  He laughed. “He always says he let me slide by first so he wouldn’t have to be jarl one day. He doesn’t want the responsibility.”

  “Then he should thank me for sparing him that fate. And you should be mindful that I gave you the title.”

  “I think my father had something to do with that. And, at times, I’m tempted to trade places with Leif.”

  Silvi smiled at their banter. Magnus was so free and easy, his face soft with the affection that came of longtime friendship. What would it be like to see it soften like that for her one day? For him to smile his beautiful smile at her? She drew in a sharp breath. What was she thinking? She moved away from him and perused the bowls and jars of herbs as they discussed the wounded warrior.

  Of course he was showing her Thorsfjell. He hoped she would like it and the people. The problem was, she did. They’d already spent the better part of the day going from house to house, as he spoke with the artisans about the upcoming voyage to Kaupang. It was like no place else she’d ever been. Granted, she hadn’t traveled far from home, but small villages and farmsteads lay within half a day’s ride of it. Her mother and she had visited them frequently. None of them were like this place.

  The people here radiated peace. They found joy in their life’s work, and their efforts supported their village. From what she could gather as he spoke with them, he returned to them the gold and silver they wanted for their wares and kept a small amount for taking the items to the markets. This, he reinvested in supplies and foods for the village. There didn’t seem to be much left for himself, but that didn’t appear to bother him. He was looking out for his people.

  The idea for the village was unique. She’d never heard of such an arrangement. The mountains kept them isolated and made it difficult to grow food and have enough pasture for animals. They needed for themselves all they could grow and raise; they’d had to create other things they could trade and sell. The things they made provided them with a way to survive.

  Except, Toke might be lurking at the entrance to the fjord, blocking the way to the ocean beyond it. They would have to run a blockade every time they left. Before, Magnus and he had been evenly matched with their knörrs, though Magnus’s were larger and could hold a greater number of men. Somehow, Toke had acquired a warship. If only Magnus had longships and more warriors.

  She could bring those to him.

  “Silvi?” His voice close to her made her jump. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. We’d best be going. You’d probably like to rest before the evening meal.”

  “That sounds good. I’ve enjoyed meeting everyone and seeing Thorsfjell, but I am a little tired.”

  Ingeborg followed them to the door. “Have you taken Silvi above?”

  “Not yet. I thought I might tomorrow.”

  “Why? What’s above?” Silvi stepped outside as Magnus held the door open for her. Ingeborg joined them among the fragrant herbs.

  “I think I’ll keep that a surprise. It’s something you’ll want to see.” He inclined his head to the healer. “My thanks for the good news about Bertil’s wounds. They weren’t serious, but even small cuts can fester.”

  “He’ll be back with you for the upcoming voyage. He wanted to come here now, but I threatened him with one of my concoctions. He’ll stay in the valley and heal.”

  “A wise man.” He grabbed Silvi’s hand and pulled her out of the garden as Ingeborg reached for a broom nearby, a look of revenge on her lined face.

  But she left the broom where it was. “Come back anytime, Silvi. Just don’t bring him. No respect for his elders.”

  Silvi laughed and looked up at Magnus. He was staring at her, his gaze searching her face. When it came to rest on her lips, she ducked her head, her cheeks heating.

  He touched her under her chin with such gentleness, she almost didn’t feel it. But it blasted through her senses like a wave striking her in the sea. She had to lift her head to escape the contact. It was what he wanted, for it forced her to look at him.

  “Your laugh is so rare. I wish I could hear it more often.”

  “These have not been the easiest of times. The attack on Haardvik and my father’s death. All the people we lost. The terrible winter with Hakon and his men. The depravities our women had to endure.” A shudder rocked through her. “The battle to win back our village. Then there was the attack on you and our having to come here so quickly. And now you have this trouble with Toke. I feel all this. It’s not been easy. The only light was Eirik and Asa’s wedding.”

  “I know. But the fight with Toke is a problem that you don’t need to wor
ry about.”

  Didn’t she? She and the ships she’d bring were the solution to it. He was still looking at her mouth, a strange intensity in his eyes. She lowered her gaze and stepped back. Behind her, Ingeborg chuckled. Silvi glanced at her. The healer was still standing in her garden, watching them with a great smile. “Ah yes, Magnus is the first, as always. But not too long, either, for Leif, I think.”

  Magnus gave her an indulgent look. “Best take some of your own concoctions yourself, old woman. Your mind is going.”

  Ingeborg laughed and walked back inside her house, waving her hand in dismissal of his suggestion. They made their way back to the longhouse, but Silvi kept her arms crossed lest he try to take her hand again.

  She tightened the one he’d held, her skin still tingling. His touch did the strangest things to her. Not how contact with others usually affected her. She wanted to shrink away from them, afraid to feel what they were inside. They lived in a brutal world, and sometimes that harshness lived inside people. She could always feel it rushing out at her, trying to break into her, to drag her down into its darkness. She had long ago learned to stand against it. To hold herself apart. It was why she’d always envisioned Uppsala as her golden island, alone in a storm-tossed sea.

  Everything was different here. Magnus was unique among so many other men, and so was his touch. That was why she couldn’t let him touch her again—it was pleasant. Too pleasant. He was the tempest that could blow her off course from where she needed to go. Her island.

  Once she got back to the room she shared with her mother, she lay down on the bed, closed her eyes, and called the vision. Always the sight of the island calmed her, letting her see where her destiny lay.

  Her stomach knotted. It had been coming closer as the months went by. Now, it was smaller again, its mountains less distinct. The sea was dark, churning. A strong current swirled around her. Why was this happening? Now, of all times?

  Magnus. She sat up, staring across the empty room. He was the current pulling her away from the place she’d dreamed of all her life. Or was it the gods? Could they be taking it away from her because she was wavering in her devotion to them? Perhaps they were warning her, telling her that if she wasn’t strong enough, the things of this world would sweep her away from them. She wouldn’t be worthy of them.

  The pain in her stomach hit hard, burning like the sun. She hugged herself, and leaned over the bed furs. Were they punishing her? This happened whenever she had doubts or worries about her desire to serve them. They might be testing her. She had to strengthen her resolve to stand firm for what she wanted. What she had always wanted. Only if she remained determined would she be worthy of them. And of her destiny.

  A destiny that didn’t include Magnus. He was the tide threatening to carry her beyond her island into the vast unknown. Everyone knew that therein lay dragons.

  * * *

  After Silvi went to her room, Magnus sat at a table with Eirik. He was drinking a mug of ale. Magnus nodded his thanks to Birgitta when she set a brimming mug in front of him.

  “Still watching Asa trounce Leif at tafl?” He took a long drink.

  “Some things never change.” Eirik smiled as Asa made a move and Leif frowned at her. “Except it’s warmer now, thank the gods. Your winters here are far colder than ours on the coast.”

  “I’ll wager that’s not all that’s warmer.” He glanced at Asa as she laughed at something Leif grumbled. “You are, after all, married now.”

  Eirik raised his mug. “And that type of warmth isn’t up for discussion.”

  “As though I’d want to know. Asa would have both our heads.”

  As Magnus chuckled, two of his warriors came in the front doors, supporting a disheveled blond woman who stumbled between them. A boy of no more than ten winters entered behind them, but he was so weak, he sank to the floor. They weren’t from Thorsfjell.

  Magnus stood. “Amund, Dagr, what has happened?” He went to them as they settled the woman at one of the tables. Eirik, Asa, and Leif joined them.

  “We saw her coming out of the woods from the east, Jarl. She’s exhausted, and the youth is injured.” Amund helped the boy stand. He brought him to the table to sit beside the woman.

  “I’m Fastny and this is my son, Jarpi.” Her voice was hoarse. “We came around the mountain from Bygvik. Toke sent his men after us. I beg you for sanctuary for my son, if not for me.” Tears filled her eyes as she gazed at Magnus.

  “Both of you are welcome here.” It wasn’t the first time people from that village had fled to escape Toke’s viciousness. He took her hand as he looked at Birgitta. “Get food, and then send someone for Ingeborg.” As the girl left, he patted Fastny’s hand. “Ingeborg is our healer. She’ll help you.”

  “Not for me. Jarpi is hurt. Beaten. He needs something for his wounds.”

  The boy tried to hold his head up, to be stoic and proud. But his chin quivered as a tear slipped down his bruised cheek.

  Magnus stepped to the boy. “Where are you hurt?”

  After hesitating, Jarpi faced away from him. His shirt was shredded. Blood seeped from the whip marks across his back. That someone would do this to a child . . .

  Magnus’s blood ran hot, his hands fisting. “Someone get Ingeborg. Now.” Amund leaped for the door as everyone spoke at once.

  “I’ll look at him.” Silvi’s calm voice cut through the noise. The commotion must have awakened her. The room fell silent as she turned her concerned gaze to Fastny. “With your leave.” The woman stared at her and nodded. Silvi smiled. “You’ll be safe now. Magnus is a good man, and Thorsfjell will give you peace, as it does so many others.” At the sound of her words, Fastny closed her eyes, her body sagging in relief.

  Silvi went to the boy. “May I look at your wounds?”

  “I’m fine.” He threw back his shoulders, then winced. “My mother is weak. See to her first.”

  “She can tell us what happened while Silvi looks at your back,” Magnus said.

  Jarpi bit his lip and shifted around on the bench. Silvi didn’t react to what she saw, except that her mouth tightened. “You’re very brave to have protected your mother all the way here with the pain this must cause you.” Her voice was light, but tension underlay it. “Very brave and strong. What a fine warrior you’ll make.”

  “The pain’s not so bad.” He flinched as she touched his shirt.

  “I need warm water and clean cloths to soak the material away from his skin.” She continued examining the area.

  “How did this happen?” Magnus pulled up a bench and sat facing the woman. “You said Toke’s men chased you?” If they were still out there, he’d have to act fast. But first, he needed information.

  “I live on a farmstead to the east of Bygvik. Toke took my son as a servant in his longhouse after the others fled. Yesterday, Jarpi spilled ale on the table and Toke beat him because of it. Jarpi ran away, returning to me. We couldn’t stay, for they’d only drag him back and it would be even worse for him. I’d heard that others have found safety here. We came around the southern tip of the mountain. The men were behind us until this morning. I’m sorry to have brought them here with us, but I had to come. I’m a widow and we have no one to protect us.”

  “You do now.” Magnus stood. “Dagr, gather any warriors you find and have them meet us behind the longhouse. Leif, get our swords and shields.”

  “Done.” He crossed to Magnus’s chamber.

  “I’ll get my weapons. I’m coming also.” Eirik strode toward Asa’s old room.

  “If you think you’re leaving me behind, think again.” Asa ran after him.

  Magnus grinned. Eirik had been right. Some things never changed.

  They all met up near the woods behind the longhouse. “With any luck, Toke’s men won’t know Fastny and Jarpi have reached us,” Magnus said. “They’ll still be looking for them at the tip of the mountain. It’s narrow between the slope and the fjord. We’ll move through the woods and ambush them there.”
<
br />   “Then you’ll need me.” They all turned to Nuallen. No one had seen him approach from the shadow of the trees. His only weapon was a seax hanging below his belt.

  “Since when do you part from Lifa?” Eirik looked surprised.

  “Anything that threatens Thorsfjell, threatens Lifa. I must see to it. She’s safe reading runes with other women, and Magnus’s men guard them well. By going on ahead of you, I can circle around the outcasts and kill one or two. Their panic will drive the rest straight to you.”

  “You should have a sword.” Magnus wouldn’t underestimate the Northumbrian. He’d heard what he’d done over the winter in Haardvik, how he could slaughter men without their realizing what killed them.

  “I don’t even need this.” He slapped the seax, then went ahead of them into the woods. The leaves didn’t move as he passed. An instant later, he was gone without a trace.

  “You owe me a good fight.” Kaia stepped into the group and crossed her arms. Her gray-green eyes were hard, like an aged sword blade. “Rorik sent me here to help guard you, when I could have gone raiding this summer. I’m not happy.”

  Eirik eyed his cousin. “If she’s not happy, let her fight. It’s safer that way.”

  Magnus gave a short nod. He’d welcome another shieldmaiden. Like she-wolves, they could be far more deadly than the men. With his warriors, their number and skill was such that no band of outcasts could escape them.

  Traveling silent and swift, they reached the southern base of the mountain without encountering anyone. Dagr found Fastny and Jarpi’s footprints, but not those of the outcasts. The whoresons were still east of them. Swords unsheathed, they kept each other in sight as they moved in a line through the trees.

  Magus heard the outcasts’ panicked shouts before he saw them. He signaled the others to draw in together, to protect each other if need be. They waited.

  A group of men ran straight into them, their eyes wide, sweat pouring from their faces. They never had a chance. Magnus slashed the throat of one of them, then spun to face the next man. He fell before Magnus touched him. Leif had already slain him. Hefting his dripping blade, Magnus looked around.