by A. J. Adams
She just shrugged. Typical! Rather than be open, she wanted to play games. Or maybe she wanted to make me crawl. To destroy my pride. I wasn’t in the mood. “What’s the price?” I asked.
“Price?” She looked bemused. “Well, the duke gave me this hunting lodge for saving his life.”
That was an eye-opener. “You saved the duke? How?”
“He fell off his horse and broke his leg.”
“You found him?”
“No, I told them where to look.” Her eyes were shimmering, looking like jewels. “I saw him in a dream.”
I was dumbstruck. Suddenly it all made sense. The fantastic house, the herbs and potions everywhere, all were signs of her craft. I must have been blind not to see straight off that the wolf and the cats were her familiars. Bliss was a witch!
“Freyja sends me dreams.” She said it casually, but she was eyeing me as if I might attack her. “I’m a blessing from the Lady, and I work for the good of the people. And the duke.”
It explained the attitude of the villagers. They feared her, but she was blessed by the goddess and had the duke’s friendship, too. This was a powerful woman.
I conquered the thrill of alarm that went through me. If she’d wanted to harm me, she would have already done so. But I couldn’t figure out what she wanted from me. Rescuing me wouldn’t endear her to the Brighthelme duke, but clearly she wasn’t worried about that. It hinted at a tremendous talent.
I didn’t want to be turned into a toad, so I spoke to her nicely, “I don’t have property. Or land.”
Her eyes flashed and she reared up. Bliss was spitting mad. “You think I want payment? For saving you? What the hell do you think I am?”
I’d fucked up and insulted a witch. “Sorry. I misunderstood.”
“I help because I can! I don’t go about demanding payment!”
Yup, I had really put my foot in it. “Sorry! Really, I got it all wrong.”
“Damn right you did!”
So she did have some Skraeling in her after all. Bliss had principles, and I had hurt her feelings. Guilt flooded through me. “Bliss, I apologise.”
The eyes sparkled with rage, but then she nodded and sighed. “Well, some people—and I’m not mentioning names, except for that poxy whoreson the Patriarch—are so low that they do demand payment for helping. And he isn’t content with money, either. The fat gut wants your soul.”
Witch or not, we thought the same way about that. “The Patriarch is a devil from the darkest sea.”
That got me a smile. One that made her eyes shine. They really were very beautiful. “I guess we agree on that. Well, in that case I forgive you.”
And that was it. No moaning, no bitching, just a word and it was done. Lizbeth had nagged for hours, days, whenever I’d apologised, so Bliss’ straightforward way surprised me. Maybe the Skraeling in her was stronger than I thought. She was principled and forgiving.
“You’re sore.” She was eyeing me knowledgeably. “A sip of poppy will help.”
“I’m okay.”
But she poured it into a small spoon and insisted. “You’re a hero, I can see that. Take it to please me.”
Put like that, there was no resisting her. I took it, and instantly the medicine’s soothing warmth enveloped me. She was a wonder, a witch, but also a generous healer, and I was grateful. “Bliss, after this storm, I leave. I owe you a debt that I can’t ever repay, but every moment I stay is dangerous.”
As I spoke, lightning flashed, and there was a crack of thunder. Bliss jumped and Saga shivered. Then the woman and the wolf huddled together for comfort. It really surprised me. In the stories, witches cause storms when they’re angry. They enjoy them, whipping up the elements to revel in their power.
From the way Bliss jumped and paled, the tales were wrong. Frankly, it made me happy. She’d been so controlled, so managing, that it was nice to see she had a weakness.
“I hate storms,” Bliss confessed. “It’s silly because we’re safe here, but I can’t help it.”
Before I could speak, a vicious snap of lightning struck overhead. Bliss shrieked and jumped, ending up pressed against me, and Saga was right with her. As they trembled, the ground shook and the roof tiles rattled.
The storm broke, and from the way the wind raged, it was the same monster that had smashed my boat. Now I was indoors, inside a rock-solid home, but even so, howling winds battered my ears and the earth shook with repeated thunder and lightning.
The cats curled up and went to sleep, but Bliss and Saga were as one in their decision to cling to me. I had a face pressed into one side of my neck and a long snout and damp nose shoved under the arm on the other side. It should have hurt, but the company was a relief.
I’d wanted to be alone after Lizbeth rejected, me and being away from the grasping, mean-minded Prydain had been a relief, but now I missed my brothers. We’d grown up together, living shoulder to shoulder, through danger and victory. Now, far away from everyone I held dear, being away from them tore at my gut.
So I sat in the chair in front of the fire, grateful to be crushed by a witch and a wolf, thinking only of the company. But then Bliss stirred against me, nestling closer. That cool forest scent that was her signature warmed me, floated around me. Suddenly, I became aware of the soft breasts against my chest and the long sweep of firm thigh against mine.
Mine. The thought blasted through me. I was rock-hard instantly, possession flooding through me. She’s mine, and I’ll kill to keep her.
I was stroking Bliss’ pale locks, conscious of my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. My breath turned ragged with want when my common sense cut through my lust.
For a moment, I wondered if I truly had a death wish. She had made it clear her intentions were good, but everyone knows that witches are trouble. They can’t help it; it’s their nature.
We mortals live in a world protected by a sacred veil. All the devils, demons, and other creatures from our nightmares live on the other side. Witches straddle the divide. They’re not of this world or the other, and therefore they’re unstable. An angry witch can rip that veil, blending the worlds. We know it happens because that’s how elves, werewolves, and vampires got to our side.
The Prydain are gutless cowards who avoid any kind of risk, so they usually kill their witches, burning them alive at the stake. From what I knew, the very few who survived being discovered lived in temples, keeping well away from common folk.
We Skraeling are afraid of nothing, not even women who can tear the world apart with their magic. So while witches are extremely rare among us, we don’t reach for the woodpile when we discover them.
However, we are cautious. There’s no point in being cursed for life, so dark witches tend to go off and live on their own, but those who are helpful are sought after. Some are healers, and others cast love and protection charms. They might live in one place, but many travel from settlement to settlement, spending their lives working among ordinary people.
Of all the witches, the vala who see the future are the most powerful and also the most dangerous. They can be lethal because visions are seldom clear. When a vala shares those visions, arguing over their meaning can paralyse and destroy entire communities. Even so, we lust after our vala because the gift of foresight is worth the risk.
I’m not afraid of anything, black witch or vala, but while my cock lusted after the girl, my head told me Bliss was dangerous. She could wipe me out in a rage, and my family’s name would be lucky to be a footnote in the books of fate. I didn’t even like her!
My sense told me to leave but I found myself stroking her hair. It was sleek and soft, shining in the light of the fire. When I peeked at her, I saw she was fast asleep. So was the wolf. I guess they’d had a long day.
Maybe it was the draught she’d given me, but I closed my eyes for just a moment and then I drifted off, too.
“Look what we have!” My father, big, strong, dressed in deerskins, towering over everyone, was carrying
a bear. “There’s enough for all! Tonight we feast!”
My mother, so young and beautiful, with her blonde hair in pigtails, laughing excitedly. “It’s magnificent. Siv! Go get the others. Tell them to come and share!”
At her words, a thrill of joy went through me. Everyone would gather. Together we’d feast on my mother’s jellied eel and my father’s roast bear.
“Siv, help your sister!”
As the eldest, it was my job to guide Folke. I was helping her with her boots, putting the little feet into the soft leather, when I saw her. Bliss. Watching me.
“Siv, be sure to put on your hat. It’s cold outside.” My mother walked right by her, not noticing the stranger in our midst.
I saw Bliss examine her with interest, the huge eyes shimmering like the sea in summer. “Is this the true past?” she asked.
“Yes. It’s my happiest memory,” I heard myself say. “A peaceful time full of riches. Before the eternal winter destroyed our home.”
I woke up with a start. I felt like I’d been asleep a moment, but outside I could see light. It was morning. An extremely wet and stormy morning. The fire was flaming as the wind came down the chimney. Bliss was asleep, loose-limbed in total relaxation. Saga was hot, her fur warm from the fire.
It was a dream, I told myself. Inspired by poppy syrup. It had put me out for a fortnight, and now even a little of it was having an effect.
I examined Bliss as she slept. In my dream, standing next to my mother, they’d looked like sisters. It wasn’t just the hair, skin, and eyes, but the very bones were familiar. My gut told me that Bliss was Skraeling, but my head reminded me she was the result of a raid. Half Skraeling.
I stroked her hair away from her face. The sleek cheekbones and the sculpted lips were beautiful, and I’d been struck with them from the start. The high, tight breasts and the long sweep of legs were delicious, too. The rest of her was pure strength, from the muscular waist to the firm backside.
This was elegant power, in a sweet, silken package. A woman with a connection from home, too. I’d been prevented from seeing it because I’d been sick, weak from torture and months of despair. Now I was thinking clearly at last. This woman was a gift from the gods.
It seemed a miracle, and I was aching for her again. As I hugged her to me, the scent of fresh greenery intensified. Her skin was soft, her breath sighing against my neck. I drifted, my mind free to roam. In my imagination, I stripped her, exposing that elegant body with its delicious curves. She struggled a little, asserting herself, but as I kissed her, she surrendered. It was a glorious victory melting into a meeting of minds. I sank into her, my cock dipping into the tight, oiled silk.
“No!” She sat bolt upright, scrambling away from me, spilling the wolf to the floor. Her eyes were wide and frightened.
For a moment, I felt guilty, but then sense flooded back. Valas tell the future by throwing bones, looking into fires, or from visions the gods send them. They don’t walk in and out of your mind. Not even gods are that powerful. She must have had a nightmare.
Bliss was shaking, so I spoke gently. “You fell asleep. You must have been dreaming.”
She blinked and looked down at herself, then at me. “Right. Yes. Of course.” She was sweeping her hair back nervously. “Sorry.”
The way she looked at me hit another button. I’d seen that look before, too. With Lizbeth when I’d first taken her. I pushed the thought away. I didn’t want to think about it. But I knew that look. Bliss was frightened of me. She was remembering the stories the Prydain tell of us.
“You’re okay,” I told her. “It’s morning, Bliss, we slept here all night.”
“Yes.” She thought for a moment, and then she smiled. That’s when I discovered Bliss had the sweetest dimples. “Siv, your ribs! How could you let me sleep on top of you?”
“Sitting up’s easier than lying down.” Brant always makes jokes, and the Prydain love him for it. “And Saga smells good.”
It worked because I got to see the dimples again. “Better be careful. She farts in her sleep.”
Bliss really was pretty when she smiled. I was feeling good, another effect of the medicines she’d given me, and I could see she was relaxing, too.
“Want some warm milk?” Bliss was stretching. “I have a large jug of it, so we’d better finish it before it goes off.”
There’s nothing more satisfying than being indoors, warm, and drinking sweet warm milk when a storm is raging outside. I sipped the nectar, thoroughly enjoying myself. The wind blasted the walls of the lodge, and rain lashed the windows, but the lightning had stopped. In a way I was sorry; I’d enjoyed having Bliss all over me.
It was warm inside, but Bliss shivered and put another log on the fire. “The weather is bad this year,” she remarked. “Freezing cold and then far too wet. Constant gales, too. It’s the worst spring in living memory.”
“A storm brought me here.” I’m not usually superstitious, but I was wondering if the gods had sent it on purpose. Without thinking about it, I asked, “How did you know this one was coming?”
She hesitated. “I’m not sure.”
“You were looking into a bowl of milk.”
“It was just what I was holding when the goddess spoke to me.” Her eyes were the colour of sapphires, deep and clear. “I was brought up by Freyja, you see. Or rather, by the sisters at her shrine.”
Evil cannot dwell in sacred places. It doesn’t even get a look-in. Bliss was a true child of the goddess. “Were they witches, too?”
“Hey! The word is sibyl!”
I thought she was going to belt me, but she controlled herself. Told you I’m no damn good with women. I quickly tried to recover lost ground. “Right, sorry. You’re one of the blessed ones.”
She visibly controlled her irritation. “I don’t know about that, but Freyja loves us, cares for us, and she uses me sometimes as her messenger.”
“We call those with Freyja’s gift vala.”
Bliss looked blank. She was one of us and yet not. It hurt me just to see how she knew nothing of her heritage, so I explained. “It means wand carrier. It’s a symbol of power and of the goddess.”
“Well, apart from that one time I helped the duke, I only see storms and lost beasts.”
It didn’t sound impressive. “Among us Skraeling the vala sees the future and advises the chiefs.”
Bliss was looking a bit distant. For a moment, I had the strange idea that she was frightened, but that was of course ridiculous.
“They’re respected by everyone,” I added.
“Yes, the sibyl in Brighthelme is revered, too.” Her eyes were wide open and gazing at me frankly, but I sensed she was unhappy. “I don’t have a big enough gift to serve the duke.”
It disappointed me to hear her powers were limited. Still, as a sailor, I appreciated any heads-up about the weather anyone could give, and I bet the villagers who fished were damn grateful to have her.
Anyone might. It surprised me that a weak, greedy Prydain hadn’t tried to take her. Talented, powerful, and a beauty, she was a true prize.
Draining my cup, I knew I was going to have this girl. The long ice-coloured hair, magnificent eyes, and rich curves were calling to me. In my imagination, I was feeling those luscious breasts pushing against me as she hooked her legs over my back.
It was crazy, completely impossible, my sensible self reminded me. She thought of herself as Prydain, not an exiled Skraeling. I had nothing to offer her. Here she had status and land. I had half a cabin in a new settlement, and we might not survive another year.
As I told myself it was impossible, my cock was driving my mouth. “You grew up in Freyja’s temple. Are you dedicated to her?”
Bliss shook her head. “Only the daughters of rich families join their order.”
“You have property. A fine home.”
“But no family, so I didn’t qualify.” Bliss smiled at me. “I just worked there.”
She was free! Not a temple maid, n
ot a priestess or even under an oath of virginity. I pushed the thought away. I couldn’t have her. The realisation made me angry. That it should have come to this! With my heritage, I should have been able to lay the world at her feet. Now I couldn’t even give her a jewel to match her eyes.
Bliss was poking the fire, sending flames up the chimney. “The Lady Divine hoped I’d marry the squire.”
“That red-faced fat gut on the good horse?”
“That’s him.” She was laughing. “I’m not fond of him, either.”
“Is there someone else?”
“No.”
I remembered how she’d quietly ripped the squire to shreds. Me too, for that matter. “So, none of the villagers are man enough for you?”
“Hey!”
“What?” I was screwing up again.
“I’m not a shrew!”
“Okay.” Yup, this wasn’t going well. She had a poker in her hand, too. “Sorry.”
She was giving me a dirty look. “Do you know what a shrew is?”
“No.”
“It’s a woman who scolds.”
“Ah.”
Another evil look. “That was an ‘ah, yes, nothing like you’, right?”
“Bliss, the Prydain breed weak, stupid men. They fall apart when a mouse squeaks at them. We Skraeling are different. We like strong women. You’re a shield maiden, brave and valiant.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I told you: I’m not Skraeling!”
That temper, the fiery eyes, and the balled fists told me she was, but I didn’t want a fight. I wanted her, and with women, even shield maidens, honey works best. I changed the subject. “You grew up as a child of Freyja, but you don’t live with the sisters?”
“The shrine is abandoned now. The Patriarch drove them out.”
She stood tall and strong, but her voice was desolate. Poor Bliss. She’d lost her family, and that devil the Patriarch was behind it. That didn’t surprise me. The man was pure evil.