Collide and Seek

by Sara C. Roethle

  Alaric stood and moved behind my chair so he could put his hands on my shoulders. He rubbed gently, attempting to sooth my panic. “I don't imagine it will be anything extreme, as Mikael will be swearing it himself. It will likely be an oath of no direct harm, which as far as I know, you aren't planning on killing him yourself, and it would be good to have such a promise for your own well-being.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out. An oath of no direct harm didn't sound so bad, though I was still a little shaken at the idea of offering blood. The Vaettir didn't do anything half-assed, and it would more likely be a pint than a thimble full. Not to mention that being bound to Mikael in any way gave me the serious creeps.

  Alaric leaned down and kissed my cheek, startling me out of my thoughts. “We should prepare,” he said softly.

  I nodded a little too quickly. Things beyond my comprehension had been set in motion. I pictured Estus plotting within the confines of his Salr, vying for my blood, planning an assault on Aislin's clan so they wouldn’t get to me first. So many innocents would die, and it was my fault. I flashed back to the scenes of bloodshed I'd seen the night Diana tried to sacrifice us, and tried to picture those same scenes as they'd apply in modern times. The thought made my stomach turn.

  What was to come made one little blood-oath pale in comparison. After all, what was a little blood between acquaintances?

  The members of Mikael's clan gathered around us as we stood in the woods outside the Salr. Fresh snow had fallen, blanketing the ground and making the world seem soft.

  I stood across from Mikael with Alaric, James, and Sophie at my back. At his back stood Aila and two clan members I had only just met. The man's name was Faas, and the woman, Tabitha.

  An elaborate design had been carved into the ground, deep enough to turn the soil underneath the snow. It looked a bit like a circular labyrinth, but with jagged edges making it imperfect, but no less mesmerizing.

  Both Mikael and I held small, ornate knives in our hands as we stood mirroring each other. He'd traded in his robes for traveling clothes, and looked a little more normal in leather and fur attire that matched his clanmate’s, though not as normal as he would have looked in street clothes. The four foot long sword strapped to his back seemed natural, and I had no doubt he knew how to use it.

  The oath we had decided on was an oath against betrayal. I was walking a thin line with it. Technically I had never said I wouldn't destroy the charm, so doing so wouldn't be a betrayal, but it still made me nervous. Alaric had assured I'd be fine as long as I didn't lie outright, or intentionally put Mikael in harm's way.

  The preparation had consisted of me memorizing a few words in Old Norsk, that basically meant loyalty, honor, and truth. I had dressed in the leather pants with a new burgundy sweater. It felt nice to wear something other than black, but I wasn't really thinking about my clothes at that moment.

  “Hollr,” we both said in unison as we poised the blades above our open palms.

  “Mannvirðing,” we muttered as the blades slid across our skin, sharp enough to cut with only the weight of the metal as pressure.

  “Sannindi,” we finished as we tilted our palms to let our blood fall to the snow.

  I could feel energy dancing around me as my blood trickled downward. A little shock went through me once the first drops hit the earth. I could sense the ground below me like it was something alive, and in a way, it was.

  Our blood began to flow through the paths carved into the snow. There wasn't enough blood to build momentum, but it seemed to flow forward of its own accord. I watched in awe as the two streams of blood rushed forward, searching for one another, until finally they met in the middle of the design.

  My eyes found Mikael's as our blood merged. He smiled, watching me with his head tilted slightly downward, framed by his loose auburn hair.

  Something told me that I'd bitten off more than I could chew and then some. The moment our blood fully intermingled my ears popped with pressure, and the blood sank down into the earth. I watched as the design filled itself in, sucking soil then snow down into its lines. After a few seconds the only sign anything had happened were a few bloodstains on the pure white snow.

  Mikael clenched his fist around the knife wound, then inclined his head toward me. I stared at him, resisting the urge to gulp. As he turned away to speak to his clan I stood frozen, looking down at the blood on the icy ground.

  Alaric stepped forward and helped me into my coat, then began tying a bandage around my hand. I turned worried eyes to him, hoping for a little reassurance.

  He shook his head with a small, bitter smile on his face. “He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf,” he quoted.

  Unfortunately I knew my Shakespeare. I bit my lip before replying, “Things didn't exactly end up well for King Lear.”

  Alaric raised an eyebrow. “Yes, but who is the King in this situation?”

  With that confusing question, he took my uninjured hand and led me forward to join the rest of our traveling party.

  I still felt uneasy with Alaric quoting King Lear. Shakespeare either wrote comedies where most everybody lived, or tragedies, where most everybody died, and King Lear was a tragedy. It didn't really matter who was in charge if everyone still died.

  If it was just a question of dagger, asp, or poison, we were all screwed.

  11

  Three days later.

  I had to hand it to him, Mikael had eyes and ears everywhere. Given his Viking heritage, I had assumed we would be roughing it in the freezing forest, but Mikael had other plans. We would hide amongst the humans, where his network of spies could easily pass messages to us.

  He'd also theorized that should enemy forces find us, they would be hesitant to attack within the confines of civilization. I'd argued that his people had attacked us in a hotel in broad daylight, but that ultimately only proved his point, because they had been his people, and unlike Estus and Aislin, he didn't want to preserve our secretive existence within the Salr.

  Once we reached civilization, we'd learned that Mikael owned several houses, spread out across different towns, and some in different countries. He'd even changed into normal clothes once reaching one of the aforementioned houses, though it was obvious that he did so grudgingly.

  We'd stayed at the house for several days, but would be leaving soon. To where was anyone's guess.

  I peeked out through the heavy-curtained window, waiting for my turn in the shower. Our current hideout rested in a quaint, residential neighborhood. It was the kind of neighborhood where elderly people walked hand-in-hand, and children played in the streets without fear. The house was set back from the road, with large trees in the front yard, but I could still see a young couple walking happily down the street. I would have given a lot to be as carefree as they seemed, but my life had never, and would never be that way.

  I suppressed goosebumps at the idea of Vaettir invading the small neighborhood in search of us with their cold and violent ways. The young couple would have plenty to care about then, if they even survived.

  A hand touched down on my shoulder, and I turned to see Alaric smiling down at me, not sensing my worried thoughts.

  “Our turn for the shower,” he announced.

  I blinked up at him innocently, pushing the feeling of dread to the back of my mind. “Our turn?”

  Without answering, he scooped me up in his arms and carried me toward the bathroom, past floral couches, lace doilies, and other décor just as quaint as the neighborhood. Not exactly a house suited for a Viking, but I think the idea was to blend in more than anything else.

  Sophie, with her long hair twisted up in a towel, and another towel wrapped around her body, rolled her eyes as she breezed past us. I turned and stuck my tongue out at her, unwilling to let her spoil my small moment of comfort amidst a sea of troubles.

  We entered the cozy bathroom and Alaric used his foot to shut the door behind us. The bathroom was small, with a pedestal sink and toilet to the left,
and a shower/bath combo to the right. There was still leftover steam from Sophie's shower fogging up the mirror. I hoped she had saved us some hot water.

  As soon as Alaric set me on my feet I locked the door, pausing to listen for any movement outside.

  Alaric grabbed my shoulders and gently turned me to face him. “Expecting an attack?”

  I pursed my lips. “Something like that.”

  More like I was expecting a Viking siege. Things had been weird with Mikael since we'd taken our oath. He had given up on hitting on me after his initial attempt during our night cap, but he was still giving me a strange vibe.

  I knew he wasn't plotting, since he'd taken an oath to not betray me, and I didn't think he was wary of me or the charm. In fact, he seemed quite comfortable with that situation, unlike me. The vibes were more . . . portentous, like something big was coming and only the two of us knew it. Whatever it was had him excited, and it was like he was watching me, waiting for me to set events into motion.

  Alaric brought me back to reality as he moved behind me, then pushed my hair aside to rain soft kisses down my neck.

  “Focus, Madeline,” he whispered, his breath hot on my skin.

  I sighed. “I'm sorry, it's just difficult to be in the present with all of the impeding doom.”

  He kissed my cheek, then moved in front of me to turn on the shower. At some point he'd lost his shirt, and his dark hair cascaded down his pale, naked back enticingly. Always a sucker for nice hair, I reached out and ran my fingers through the velvety softness, marveling at its texture.

  Faster than my eyes could see, Alaric whipped around and grabbed my wrist. He smiled wide enough to flash his little fangs. “Now that's the spirit.”

  My lips parted and suddenly I was no longer thinking about the war we had pushed into motion. My thoughts turned to the hot water running in the shower, and how nice it would feel for it to stream down both our bodies pushed together.

  The warm feeling growing in my belly was only increased by the emotions Alaric was projecting. I could feel strong emotions the best, and his thoughts were just as filled with heat as mine. Our clothes were off quickly, little more than a secondary distraction.

  Alaric took my hand, then stepped back into the shower, leading me to join him. I followed willingly. Although some might label what happened next as a sin, I felt less like I was stepping into the abyss, and more like I was stepping out of it.

  When the water finally ran cold, we both hurried out of the shower, wrapping towels around ourselves to warm back up. I watched Alaric as I dried off slowly, not at all wanting to leave the bathroom to face the outside world. I would have stayed in that bathroom all day, but alas, our current abode was only a waypoint.

  Mikael had alluded that we'd be traveling somewhere far different, though he wouldn't say specifically where. I imagined we'd be staying in Norway, but maybe a more densely populated city area where it would be easier to hide, and escape should we be found. The only thing I knew for sure was that we'd be meeting with a group of people that could help get us to where we were going.

  Finished drying, I looked over at the new clothes I was supposed to wear. The house we were in had come equipped with all sorts of clothing. Mikael had planned for all contingencies, and all manner of companions. I'd originally gone for a pair of dark wash jeans and a plain tee-shirt, but Mikael had stopped me. I now looked down on neatly folded, Viking-style clothing, just like what most of Mikael's clan wore, except without the fur.

  I reached out a hand to find that the steam of our shower had dampened the dark brown, tunic-style linen shirt, and lighter brown leather pants that sat on the closed lid of the toilet. Would I never escape leather pants? The clothing all looked like it was sewn by hand, but expertly so. Not wanting to put the strange clothing on, but also not about to leave the bathroom in nothing but a towel like Sophie, I frowned and crossed my arms. The now wet cord of the charm weighed heavily on my neck, one more annoyance to contend with.

  “I don't feel like we'll fit in very well in these clothes,” I remarked. “Isn't the whole idea to blend in?”

  Finished dressing, Alaric walked behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “My only guess is that perhaps those we intend to meet with will expect more traditional attire.”

  I raised an eyebrow, though he couldn't see it. “This attire isn't exactly traditional, it's ancient.”

  Alaric kissed the top of my damp head. “I like it. It makes me feel like a young man again.”

  I turned in his grasp and pulled slightly away so I could observe his clothing, which was similar to mine. “I always forget that you're old enough to have worn stuff like this.”

  He quirked his lip into a half smile. “I can help you into yours if you like.”

  I nodded, then turned back to my pile of clothing. I had at least been given a modern day bra and panty set, which I was grateful for. While I slipped them on, Alaric unfolded the pants, loosening the ties that would cinch them around my waist.

  He held them out to me. “One foot after the other,” he said encouragingly.

  I smirked at him. “I know how to put on pants.”

  He chuckled. “And I know how to take them off.”

  I took the pants from him and stepped into each leg. “I'm very well aware of that,” I replied evenly.

  Without another word he stepped forward and pulled the pants the rest of the way up my legs and hips. He crisscrossed the ties, then knotted them at the base of my waist.

  “Shirt now,” he ordered.

  I reached back and grabbed the linen shirt from the toilet lid. I could have put it on myself, but I was having fun with the little game we were playing, so I handed the heavy fabric to him, then held my arms out.

  With a lascivious smile, he slid each sleeve slowly over my arms, then jokingly tugged the rest of the shirt haphazardly over my head. I ended up with half my damp hair caught in the collar, and had to pause my giggling long enough to tug the shirt straight. The hem fell half-way down my thighs, the fabric much more comfortable than it looked. The final touch was a pair of boots that would stay on with leather wrappings rather than laces or zippers. Alaric really did have to help me with those, as I never would have gotten them on correctly myself.

  I turned to gaze in the mirror at my new attire, while Alaric retrieved my knife from my discarded clothes to hook it back at my waist. “Well it's much better than the clothes you picked out for me,” I teased.

  I watched Alaric in the mirror as he grinned, then stepped to the side and threw an arm around my shoulder. “We are a perfect pair of peasants,” he commented. “Now I'll go till the field, while you stay home and raise our nine children.”

  I used my reflection in the mirror to glare at him. “You know, there has been a lot of speculation lately that some of the Viking warriors were women.”

  Alaric kissed my cheek, then turned to put his hand on the doorknob. “Perhaps that is why Mikael gave you pants instead of a dress, my little land-skjálpti.”

  I grinned as I turned to follow him into the hall. I was liking the pet name of little earthquake more and more.

  12

  Sophie and James waited on the little floral couch, each glued to opposite ends.

  “Why does he get normal clothes!” I exclaimed, looking down at James.

  Sophie glared over at the man in question. “He's not coming to the mysterious meeting.”

  She was dressed in similar clothes to mine and Alaric’s, except her linen shirt was deep blue, cinched close to her waist by an ornate leather belt as wide as my palm.

  I turned as Mikael entered the room from the kitchen, followed closely by Aila. Mikael was back in his old-fashioned attire as well, only his had a little more leather than ours, and his sword had returned to his back. Aila was in street clothes like James, and didn't look comfortable with the situation at all.

  “He cannot come because he is not involved in our plans,” Mikael explained. “If he can't remember his
own life, then he cannot choose a side,”

  “He's practically an invalid,” Aila commented, though judging by her clothes she wasn't coming to the meeting either.

  I glared at her, but James didn't jump up to defend himself. Oh how the mighty had fallen.

  “We must eat, and then we will depart,” Mikael announced. “Faas and Tabitha will remain here with your . . . friend.”

  The two people he'd referred to were nowhere to be seen, and in fact, hadn't been around since we'd arrived at the house, unfortunately. I'd gleaned the information that Faas was Mikael's executioner, and I was dying to talk to him.

  Aila stood rigid as a pole, glaring at each of us throughout the exchange. I wasn't sure what she was still so bent out of shape about, but she made sullen Sophie look like the Queen of Sunshine.

  Mikael opened his mouth to say something further, but a knock on the door interrupted him.

  Chaotic emotions hit me like a ton of bricks. “Don't answer that,” I ordered, my eyes glued to the door.

  I didn't know who was waiting outside, but I could sense their energy. Normally I'd have to be within touching distance to feel someone's emotions, but what I sensed was overwhelmingly strong. I shook my head. No, the emotions weren't that strong, they were just coming from more than one person. My heart raced as I picked up on the feeling of anticipation and something akin to bloodlust, coming from all around the house.

  The charm, almost forgotten, began to thrum with excitement. A battle was about to occur, and a battle would empower it.

  James and Sophie both rose and came to stand near the rest of us. Everything was still and silent for several heartbeats. The metaphysical burning balls of excitement that were likely other Vaettir shifted around the house, preparing for the attack.

  “They have us surrounded,” I whispered.

  I watched as Aila looked to Mikael. “Do we fight, or flee?”

  Instead of answering, Mikael turned his perfectly calm eyes to me. “How many are there, Madeline?”