Between Mortals and Makers

by Tyranni Thomas

  “Should we…” I trailed off as Sven hopped out the door and began to scatter the birds. “I guess they have it under control.”

  “What. The. Fuck,” Thane growled from the doorway. The infamous long blond mane was disheveled and standing on end. His eyes travelled back and forth in disbelief before he shook his head, and went back inside, slamming the door behind him.

  Thorne snorted and spat over his shoulder.

  “What did you do to ‘em to make ‘em chase you like that, anyways?” Sven excitedly asked.

  Thorne was about to bring down the axe but stopped so we could hear the answer as well.

  Osanna bounced up beside them and tangled her fingers with Zhenni’s. The woman took a seat on a large rock and began to smooth her hair.

  “I… I only fed them. I thought they were chicken, until I heard that awful noise. Of course, then I knew I had erred,” Zhenni prattled. Once she realized how frantic she still sounded, her cheeks brightened, and she hung her head with a sigh.

  “My mother was a healer. There wasn’t much time for farm work. To be honest, there was no need of a farm. People get sick in the winter, they squabble and slice each other to pieces come spring, and in the harvest season there’s always a rash of babes, it seems. People don’t have silver in the smaller villages, so they pay in eggs, bread, milk. Any number of things, really. All we needed was a roof and each other. Mother’s Gods saw to everything else.”

  Osanna rested her head against Zhenni’s shoulder. A quiet fell between the trio which made the axe’s landing ring all the louder in my ears.

  “Ya Bastard,” I drawled, before giving him a passing jab.

  Thane

  Long, auburn hair spilled down Zhenni’s back. When she tilted her head and snuggled into the child, I couldn’t help but wonder why she hadn’t yet borne any of her own. I closed my eyes against the sting of a sweaty brow and reached for the next log. While I secured it, I watched as Sven moved off to feed the chickens. I worked on habit alone, often losing myself to my thoughts while the weight was hefted, dropped, and the impact of it all rang up my arms.

  She wasn’t ugly. Nor was she the soured type that walked around all day as if they had sipped curdled milk. While she ran her fingers through the girl’s hair and set to pleating it, I recalled her twig-gathering the day before. No doubt they had scarcely made it through the night before the cold alone chased them from their furs. If that was what one even wanted to call the rolls of thin, patchy hide that Einar had been too embarrassed to carry up to the lodge himself

  I inhaled, and the cool crisp evergreen air made my breath tingle in my chest. Little Osanna shivered, wrapping her arms tightly about her. Her brother labored nearby, picking up pieces of bark. The boy pushed and pressed, testing each for dampness before adding them to his meager collection. Honor carried me to the edge of my family’s yard.

  “Zhenni… is that your…” Before I could offer a neighborly introduction, she turned and hurriedly escorted the children inside. Dumbfounded, I stood staring at the space she had abandoned. A tiny piece of hair ribbon was all that remained on the rock. The door creaked. I didn’t see it open, but by the sound of the hasty squeak that followed, I figured she meant to retrieve it. Unsure of what I had done that startled or upset her, I started back toward my own yard.

  “Thorne? Thorne, could you give me a hand?” Mother scoffed with enough disgust that I could almost see the head-shaking that likely accompanied the sound.

  “Of course, what is it?” I asked, jogging the few steps back to the stump. I set a log down and hacked it. A kick was given and the next one laid. I drew back, mother yelled, and I brought the axe down. It all happened so fast I was left sucking in a panicked breath before I realized it was only Thane. He flew past me with the scowl still firmly in place.

  Piss bucket in hand and free arm flailing, he cursed his way toward the circle. I laughed and laid the next log. It was cut before Thane even made it to his delegation pool. I made short order of scooping up the pieces and carried them to the edge of the yard.

  They fell from my arm with a series of clacks and I turned to head inside. I made it all of two steps before I felt the daggers burning through me. I glanced up to find my mother lodged in the doorway. Her robust frame was parked in the middle. Each hand lay on a hip, leaving her elbows to toll across the remaining space. If I were about a decade or two younger, I might have ran.

  “You look ready to bury a Saxon army, woman… what crawled—” I started to taunt. She backhanded my upper arm so hard I was certain meat flew from my bone.

  “Not an army… just some Never-ye-mind-Toss they left behind.” Her eyes narrowed toward Einar’s house. “Keep yourself busy. There will be plenty of time to find you a good woman. A nice girl, of the old ways. Our ways.”

  We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before she turned around and disappeared into the kitchen. I gave a final glance over my shoulder and followed her inside. The place was empty except for her, but her mood didn’t leave a great deal of room for anyone else.

  “Your father has gone to Galena with a few of the other men to establish a trade route. Alexavier is seeing if he can scrounge up some nails. I sent him with one of those damn squirrels. I’m sick of squirrel and rabbit.” She shoved a spear and net into my arms and waved me back to the door. “And don’t come home with nothing scaled, either. Och, if I never see another damn fish…”

  I launched toward the door without further encouragement, leaving her words to trail behind me. I found a handful of fishing gear and started across the yard, taking note of the untouched woodpile I had placed near the path. I felt my mother’s eyes burning into my shoulders, but that didn’t stop me from surveying Einar’s door when I passed.

  The row of cabins hugged the forest on one side, so it didn’t take long before the scent of wet leaves and mud led me to the local waterhole. I wasn’t sure if there were fish in there or not. If there were, they were likely the mud-bellied kind that weren’t really fit to eat, unless one was in a pinch. Wiggling my nose, I looked about, already losing faith in the mission.

  Something a few shades darker than the trampled bank caught my eye. It lazed across the grass, an ugly globed shell with four green, meaty legs poking out on either side. I knew what it was, but I had never seen one so tiny before. It was also much darker than the tortoise we found at sea. I wasted all of a breath debating the health of the damn thing before hurling the spear at it. The minute the weight lifted from my palm, I realized what I had done. Closing my eyes, I cursed myself and fetched the spear from the soil. The turtle was now for all appearances nothing more than a shell.

  I gasped, noticing an older, larger specimen a dozen or two yards away. It sluggishly floundered but was clearly in no hurry. I gave a smile of thanks and reached down to swoop the ugly fucker up. The thing’s brass-like beak had clamped down on my index finger so tightly I feared the bone would snap. Pain crippled my entire right arm. Certain that if I didn’t act fast, I would die, I started grinding a stick between my flesh and the turtle’s jaw. It gave just a smidge, but it was enough to jerk my finger free.

  “Fuck!” I growled, wrenching a death grip around the injured digit. I was too scared to look. I would likely never see it again. How fucking mangled was it? My spared fingers trembled, but I saw no blood trickling down their length. A deep impression and the promise of a bruise was all that stared back at me. I shook my wrist, the way one does when their hand falls asleep. It only amplified the throbbing.

  My frustration caused the stick to be grabbed much rougher than I intended. The turtle weighed the other end until it curved and threatened to break. I used the net to swoop it up and tried to shake the critter loose.

  It was a lost cause, and I really wasn’t all that partial to the stick, so I let the fucker claim his victory.

  It wasn’t like it was hard to find another stick. The other turtle, however, was a different story. I searched the direction it had been hea
ding but found nothing. I wasn’t as keen of a tracker as Thane, but I knew how to walk a grid. Just when I was about to give up, I noticed it dragging its ass toward a shelter of shrubbery. Another foot and it would be in the water.

  I hesitated briefly before running after the hideous looking shell. This one was speckled; a lime color contrasted the darker majority of its back. In my panic, I once again forgot the nature of the beast. When my boots thundered close by, the turtle drew its body inward, coming to a complete still. I, on the other hand, slid ass-first past it, across the bank and into the waiting water beyond. I rolled so abruptly I sounded like an alligator, but I didn’t care. I snared the product of my misery by the shell and carried it gingerly back to the discarded net.

  I didn’t care that they were alive still. I didn’t care how or what needed to be done for their preparation. I had been told to find supper. It was her job to figure out how to get it on the table. It was a thought that plastered a smile on my face and added just a little more pep behind my step.

  Near the edge of the yard, Alexavier stood waiting. He glanced quizzically down to the firewood but lost all interest when he realized the net was still squirming with life and protruding with sticks. I gave it a twist to better fist them and hurled the mass at his chest. He scrambled to get a grip on the stick while curling his stomach away from the snapping prize within it.

  ***

  The rooster down the lane sang the next morning until we were all cursing and tossing our way out of the furs. Not a morning had passed that Thane hadn’t threaten to throttle it to death. I had no doubt that someday soon he would. He had a temper worse than a bear when provoked, and his beauty sleep was almost a matter of religion.

  Rubbing my eyes, I lumbered outside and stretched in the fresh morning breeze. The first thing I noticed was the pile of logs. The second was Einar’s chickens. They clucked about, pecking at anything and nothing. In the back, an ill fed milker remained tied just beyond its calf. The only thing that looked remotely filled out about the animal was its utters. The calf cried pitifully. It seemed to only further its mother’s agony.

  I set to chopping the wood, trying my best to drown out the sound of Einar’s livestock. I only had two more logs to splice when Sven appeared before their cabin. He made his way back toward the cows and set about righting things. Curiosity and concern warred with the memory of Mother’s words. I didn’t really care what she thought of any company I might keep, but I wouldn’t go out of my way to stick my nose where it didn’t belong either.

  The vibration of each impact rippled through me. My thoughts swam between the strokes. I was so into my work, I didn’t hear Osanna sniffling and vying for my attention. I nearly took us both out with the axe when she grasped my arm and shook it in that tender way that begged without words.

  It fell with a deafening clank and I swooped the girl up. More to calm her than from any need. Tears poured down her little cheeks. I tried to wipe them away, but they just kept coming.

  “Come now, surely I didn’t give you that bad of a fright, did I?” I whispered over her honey blond hair.

  “Not you. Zhenni. She is sick! Her skin is cold and white and…” Her lips moved, but I no longer heard what the child was saying. I rushed across the path, with her still in my arms, and let myself into Einar’s home.

  It was as she said, Zhenni lay in a fire before the dead hearth. Sven shivered nearby, trying his best to force a bit of what looked like broth into her.

  “Never mind that.” I told him, after watching it dribble down her mouth. “Go to the edge of the yard and get the firewood I left for you yesterday.”

  His eyes found me, but there wasn’t any sign of acknowledgement behind his round teary eyes. Fuck. Why had I done that? I always spoke harsher than I intended in stressful situations, but I didn’t have time to coddle him over it.

  “Go!” I spat. Only to curse myself all over again when he sniffled and shot out the door.

  Chapter Four

  Curse It All

  Zhenni

  Einar will be here. That’s what I told myself countless times from supper until the darkest hours of night. My belly alternated between an angry chorus of hunger and nauseating anxiety. By that point, even if I had food, there was no way I could have prepared it. I likely wouldn’t have been able to have kept it down, even if I had. Not that any of that mattered; we had long since spent our fire. The children huddled and trembled so violently through the night it made my body ache just watching them. I forfeited my blanket to them and had chosen to lay, instead, near the cool stones of the hearth.

  I tried to tell myself that the scent of burnt wood would trick my mind into some form of relief. Wishful thinking. My teeth had chattered, and as the hours passed, the coldness sank bitterly into my bones. I cupped my hands over my mouth and did my best to breath into them. Hoping to find some minute warmth if only for a moment, but I got distracted when my fingertips brushed my cheek. My skin was as cold as the winter water.

  That was when the darkness swallowed me. Voices swam through the fog of numbness. Something heavy shrouded me. Moments later I was hauled against something solid and warm.

  “What the fuck are you doing…” a voice slurred in the distance.

  “Flesh to flesh. It works faster,” came the deep gravel response.

  Waves of warmth lapped over my back before my shift was skimmed from me. My eyes shot open with the realization of what had occurred—my eyes tried to, rather, but the fog of weakness only allowed a brief glimpse of a blond braided warrior. His tattooed chest grazed my cheek and darkness welcomed me again.

  Something heavy raked down my side, startling me from my slumber. Thorne flexed, drawing me protectively toward him. My body melted against him before I jerked back in disbelief.

  “I…” was all I managed before the edge of the furs were tossed up and Alexavier dropped a smoldering brick beneath them. He used a metal prong device to pick up the old one and carried it back to the now blazing hearth.

  “The children…” I cried, only to find them sitting at the table with Thane. A plate of fried rabbit lay in the center of the table. All three of them held a piece in their hands, happily munching and chattering quietly amongst themselves.

  “It is fine. Everything is taken care of. You need only get well.” The sound of Thorne’s voice rumbled in his chest. I took a deep breath, recalling the sound and words carried with it during my drifting states.

  “I need to get dressed,” I growled. Rather than thank him, I planted a hand to his bare chest and shoved before twisting about and manically searching for my shift. He pointed to a fresh, folded shift that had been laid out on the bed and dressed himself quickly. He at least had the decency to cover himself while he did so.

  “My apologies. I remember my mother doing that for my sister when… Never mind. You are gaining your strength.” Thorne smiled.

  I felt like the world’s biggest asshole. My cheeks flamed, my sight blurred. Pride, however, refused to let me speak.

  Alexavier ladled a bowl of broth and brought it to me with a piece of meat.

  “I… I’m sorry. Thank you. Thank you all,” I whispered, slowly looking between them.

  “It is nothing.” Alexavier winced, as if I had insulted them.

  Light pooled beneath the door. My brows furrowed with the realization that I had been unconscious for some time.

  “How long…?”

  “We found you yesterday evening,” Thorne softly answered.

  “We got your fire going, and Osanna helped me cook up some of the game I trapped,” Alexavier bragged on the girl before ruffling Sven’s hair.

  “We don’t know how to cook an egg, so breakfast…” He motioned to the left-overs we currently feasted on. “Don’t worry, though. There is a feast tonight at the hall, so you will have a real meal soon enough.”

  “Everyone makes something and then we lay it on the long tables and everyone forms a line,” Osanna explained.

  “
A feast…” I repeated, taking it all in.

  “Saxon politics,” Thorne mumbled.

  Thane laughed. “What of it? As long as they keep the mead and ale flowing, they can chit chat about whatever they want.” He thumped Sven on the back. “Get the bucket and run fetch some water. The woman will want a bath, having been sick, feverish and all.”

  Alexavier

  Thane was a lost cause when it came to most things in life, so it only made sense that he had a way with lost children. Especially the boys who were headed for trouble. The ones who lost their fathers or had seen things beyond their years. The loners. The mistreated and abused. They gravitated towards him. Idolized him. His compassion could know no bounds, and then there were other times when he could crow like our mother, just as he was now, while we wondered down the dirt path.

  “She’s not one of your critters, yanno. You can’t just stuff her under your wing and think you can make things all better. It isn’t your lot.” Thane’s preaching only carved the smile all the deeper across Thorne’s stubbled features.

  “By the Gods, shut up. You sound like a jealous woman, rambling about who I put beneath me.” Thorne’s even, gruff tone crawled up and down each syllable, chasing the scowl across Thane’s face.

  “Be careful what you put beneath you. That’s all I’m saying,” Thane mumbled under his breath. He ran ahead, shutting the cabin door behind him with an unnecessary bang.

  “Child,” Thorne hissed before turning toward me. “Are you coming to the hall or staying to console him?”

  I smiled and shook my head. There wasn’t much that could be done for the love-hate relationship that was my two older brothers. I didn’t need anything from the house, nor did I wish to find any list of work or wishes Mother might have. So, I hopped along to catch up, trailing after Thorne and a few men who straggled toward the long hall.