Between Mortals and Makers

by Tyranni Thomas

  “You are wrong!” Mother yelled, slapping at the woman. “My sons have nothing to do with that cursed girl. Look at Domhain and Cairn. Look at what has happened to them.

  She alternated between denying the woman’s vision and shrieking at me as if I had done something to her. Every word grated over my nerves.

  “There has to be something I can do… Nothing is set in stone!” Mother vehemently insisted.

  “Everything is set in the thread of time. Fate. You want to do something… sacrifice when the time comes,” the Seer taunted. “Do not be stingy. Their reward in this life and the next depends on it. Remember that. And get out.”

  Mother shifted, preparing to rush the woman, but I grabbed her shoulders and hauled her from the hut. The place was evil, I could feel it. The same foulness that Einar carried.

  The heaviness followed us, twisting at Mother’s mood until I was certain that even she couldn’t stand her own presence. I could tell the Seer’s games had left her with as much dread as I, but it was her own fault. No one told Mother to go running off like that.

  At least it fueled her step a little. We were back in no time. Sven could be seen in the distance, standing atop the knee-high wooden fence. It was missing sections and clearly a hazard. I wondered inwardly what animal such a tiny fence could possibly restrain, when the boy mis-stepped. His weight twisted about in an attempt to right himself, but it was far too late. He fell to the ground with a nasty crack.

  His screams drew Zhenni outside. She raced to his side just as Mother did. Before Zhenni could look the boy over though, my mother started hounding her.

  “You see! I told them. You aren’t fit to see to chickens, so who in their right mind would leave you to tend their children? Worthless the, both of ya. You and that… Zaphori,” Mother fervently chastised. “It’s called watching after someone’s children, because ya literally have to keep an eye on ‘em. Daft girl.”

  “Hush yourself, before I have to treat him for a ruptured eardrum as well as the displaced shoulder,” Zhenni exclaimed. Mother’s eyes widened with insult. Zhenni sighed before things went further. “Look, I apologize, that was unnecessary. Just… let me worry after Sven, okay? I will stay away from your yard, and you will return the favor, hmm?”

  I clamped my hand over Mothers’ mouth, gave Zhenni a nod, and mouthed an apology. It was an awkward affair, carrying her half-rabid ass home, but somehow, I managed.

  Chapter Five

  Exile

  Thorne

  Mother watched the three of us like a damn hawk for the next day or two, but much to her dissatisfaction, we were grown men. She couldn’t smother us forever. There were some places she just didn’t go. Like the woods. I’ve never really cared for hunting, I preferred to raise goats and crops. Ever since I was a boy, I had been fond of animals. They’re forgiving and loyal in ways that us mortals will never be.

  My love of animals was the reason I preferred using traps instead of bows. I crept through the forest, checking Alexavier’s knots and refashioning the ones that had come loose overnight. On the south hill, I found a fawn with its leg stuck in the trap. The animal was dead. An arrow jutted from its side and blood stained the deer’s spotted tawny coat.

  “Would have bled out regardless,” I observed before taking the rope from its foot and hefting it onto my back. I lugged it back to the front yard, listening to the crickets and sounds of the evening. It was quiet between my yard and Einar’s.

  “That’s a lot of meat for a fawn,” Alexavier noted. He hopped off the stump and came to inspect the specimen. I nodded my agreement but couldn’t take my eyes off Einar’s cabin. Shadows shifted within.

  “Is he back yet?” I asked.

  Alexavier glanced up at the sound of my voice, taking note of where my attention laid, then shifted his head in the negative.

  “Nope.” He finally sighed before dragging the carcass off to separate.

  “Give me a bit of that and take the rest inside to Mother, yeah?”

  He scrunched his nose as if I had been silly to ask and set to the task of carving the meat while I went around the side and made use of the water bucket. It wasn’t until I started to wash the blood away that I noticed how dirty my nails were. Self-conscious and aware that I would soon be sharing a table with Zhenni, I scrubbed them for what was probably the first time in my life.

  When I returned, Alexavier helped me slide a quarter portion into a sack, tossed me a wink, and took the intended distraction inside.

  I wanted to run over, but part of me wasn’t ready. For what? Uncertainty tingled in me. A foreign sensation—I’d never been prone to nervousness. I shook it off and trudged toward Einar and Zaphori’s cabin.

  I knocked softly, then cursed myself moments later when I wasn’t sure if anyone had heard me or not. Did I knock again? Did she not want to be bothered? I ran my hand through my hair and glanced back to the house. A warm rush of air lured me back around to face the door. I found Sven staring expectantly up at me.

  “You look like someone’s pappy, glaring like that.” I snorted, brushing past him and roughly patting his shoulder. He needed to learn that, just because he was the man of the house, it didn’t mean he was a man. Such a mindset would get him harmed in the wrong circumstance.

  “Thorne?” Zhenni called. She appeared a few moments later in the doorway of the backroom. “What’ve you got there?”

  She hesitantly waivered on a smile. My nerves delayed my wit until it almost became awkward.

  “Dinner. I came to share dinner. Sorry. The Gods showed me favor in the hunt. A massive beast with twelve points to its rack,” I rambled, quickly falling into the saga’s habit of embellishing the in-between parts. If everyone’s belly was full, who cared if I took a little glory in the telling of it?

  Sven and Osanna clipped the bag and began fighting for the first gander.

  “The water. Get water on and some onions sliced. Sven, carve and clean that up a bit more,” Zhenni delegated before flashing me a relieved smile. “Thank you…”

  “No need. It is a joy to even think of a meal without Mother souring the mood or chirpin’ someone’s ear off,” I admitted.

  It wasn’t entirely true. Mother had her good days, more so back home before the journey. But once we had set sail for here, she was a different woman. I didn’t know that woman. She had secrets and temper tantrums. Expectations and opinions that were beyond her place to state.

  My thoughts dissipated as honey brown hues came into focus before me. Her smile slowly formed, and she tipped her head inquisitively.

  “Are you well?” she asked, laying her hand on my forearm. Her fingers gently curled, conveying her concern.

  I was fine. A momentary day dream and nothing more, but I was in no hurry to tell her that. I placed my hand over hers briefly, allowing our flesh to kiss before I gave a tiny nod. My cheeks ached with the want of smile, but I contained it, save the occasional twitch of dimples.

  Osanna dropped a handful of onions into the water and followed it with a few halved stalks of celery.

  “A natural cook, that one. Does it taste half as good as it smells?” I asked the girl.

  She shrugged and quizzically glanced my way. “It smells like water.”

  My arm met with the weight of Zhenni’s palm and she squeezed it again.

  “Sorry,” she silently mouthed around a smile.

  “Keep that sharp tongue and wit about you. Your father will have his choice of offerings,” I teased, taking the mead that Zhenni offered.

  “There is more firewood by the edge of the yard.” I cocked my head toward the door, and Zhenni motioned for Sven to fetch it.

  “You’re very kind.” she whispered, folding her hands on the table before her. Her fingers were slender. Her nails rounded and free of snags. I wanted to hold those hands. To kiss her palm.

  I felt her eyes on me and realized how longingly I had stared. My cheeks grew warm and I turned on the bench, casting a leg out so I could straddle it.
All I could do was smile and nod before glancing back to her again.

  “So are you, Zhenni.” I drummed my fingers over the table and sipped from the horn. “You are kind and generous. Even when you had nothing, not even an awareness of what you were agreeing to, you oathed to see these children through a winter.”

  She laughed and tipped her head back like I was crazy. “There is no winter here, not for…”

  “Not here. Back home.”

  She studied my eyes for some sign of jest, but the companionable smile slowly started to fall.

  “It will be fair temperatures here, but Zaphori will be forced to winter with the old village,” I told her.

  “Winter…” she repeated, absently glancing back toward Einar’s room. Anger simmered within me. I took a deep, studying breath and forced the many speculations from my mind.

  “Will you be okay that long?” I asked, so quietly I might as well had mouthed it. I expected an immediate assurance, but she hesitated.

  When it still didn’t come, I reached out and carefully slid the tips of my fingers beneath hers. When she raised her eyes to mine, I curled my fingers until we were holding hands across the table. The door abruptly squealed, and logs spilled in front of two scrawny legs.

  I hopped from the bench and helped Sven unload the haul from his arms. Osanna quickly shut the door behind him before she moved back to the window. I wanted to hug her. I knew what it was like to worry over someone who should be concerned over you. It left one feeling exposed, unprotected, and unworthy. But it also taught them to be responsible at a very young age. Her culinary skills now made immediate sense.

  “Off with ya, now. Get your brother to help you set up the tub. Zhenni and I will finish the stew while you two clean up.”

  She flashed me a smile and tossed her arms around me. I froze momentarily but returned her squeeze, before giving an encouraging “Off with ya now” once more.

  Sven took the hot kettle, after wrapping the handle with a thick rag. Once Osanna had dragged the tub into the back room, he followed along behind her.

  “We will talk more later,” I promised Zhenni before hunting another bucket and setting off for the watering hole.

  ***

  It only took a few trips and the tub was full. The children were quick bathers. A necessity in a good-sized family.

  All through dinner, Osanna shot side-long glances at me and Zhenni while giggling over her stew. On occasion, a thump sounded beneath the table, always followed with the quick shift of her legs and a dangerous glare toward her brother.

  “Right, you two finish up while the fire is still warm enough to carry you to a cozy slumber,” Zhenni encouraged. She refilled my mead and began to clean the table. When she finished, she tipped her chin toward me and started for the door. “Come, we can sit and talk amongst ourselves while they find their rest.”

  With the mead still in hand, I followed her out to the stoop. She stepped to the side, so I could close the door, before smoothing her skirt and lowering to sit. It was dark out, and even if my family were to glance this way, with the door shut, they wouldn’t have seen anything more than shadows.

  The stoop was just deep enough to keep the breeze off my upper arms. It blew a few wisps of her auburn hair about until she was finally forced to tuck it behind her ear.

  She glanced toward me hesitantly. When I didn’t say anything right away, she smiled and averted her eyes toward the forest.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, curling her shoulders up toward her ears. When she managed to force them back into place, she met my gaze once again. “I don’t have anything to trade for your… help. I…I could wash for you or mend your tunics. Perhaps you need little Sven to…”

  The more she spoke, the deeper it stung. I brought my finger up and lay it against her lips. The flicker of uncertainty that passed in her amber eyes almost broke me. She truly believed I was doing this to get something in return.

  “Zhenni, I don’t want anything. Except to share your table and trade sagas now and again. I’m not… that kind of man.” I searched her eyes, hoping I had read her discomfort for what it was and that I hadn’t made a larger fool of myself than I felt. “You owe me nothing.”

  “Oh,” she whispered.

  I rose from the stoop and tossed her a wink. “Enjoy your night, tell them I appreciate their help in preparing such a feast!”

  She stood so fast, I thought she might stop me. Her eyes swam with unspoken sentiments, but all she said was, “you, too.”

  Zhenni

  It had been three days since Thorne brought the venison over. Every evening since, he had showed up with a smile and an offering of some sort. I scolded the children many times about not expecting things from him, or anyone, but it had almost become habit.

  Only the Goddess knew how welcomed it was.

  He returned each day from the forest, prize in hand, and split the bounty between Alexavier and Sven. A string of fish, a rabbit; and one day he had a nice basket of mushrooms. Not the sacred ones—these were meaty palm-sized treats that clung to the batter and fried to a nice golden crisp. He never brought anything bloody, and I noticed, he didn’t clean his kills.

  Standing in the doorway, I watched him approach and returned the customary wink. He drew close enough that I could smell the salt of the ocean on him, then held out a small package of wrapped meat.

  “Market meat…” I gasped. “Thorne, you don’t need to buy anything for us…”

  “I didn’t,” he assured me before giving my arm an affectionate rub. “I won a bet. Three bottles of fine wine! I bought two roasts, a bottle each, and kept the third for later. Feed the children, I will be over to drink and dawdle after I escort my mother to the stitch and bitch.”

  “The what?” I blinked.

  He smiled and tried to act as if I were hearing things before shaking his head and scoffing. “Fucking sewing circle, all they do is complain about their men and gossip about the women who aren’t there.”

  Laughter rang before I could stop it. “You’re horrible.”

  “You enjoy my horrible company, though, so I shan’t change,” he cooed, before turning and trailing off toward his own home.

  “You like him,” Sven said plainly.

  I watched the tall braided figure dip his head and enter the house across the path. A wistful smile settled over my features as I reflected over the past few days.

  “I knew it,” Sven scoffed with all the disgust one would expect from an adolescent boy. Osanna giggled, and I shook my head before leveling a gaze that demanded their lips remain sealed.

  “He is a good man and a wonderful friend,” I acknowledged without divulging anything that they might later run with. They were young. Children were unpredictable, and I wasn’t ready for that broad-shouldered axe man to know that I held any interest at all in him. Interests led to bonds. Bonds led to situations like Zaphori’s or pain like mine.

  I sighed and ushered the young ones back inside.

  They helped me prepare the roast and put it over the fire before scampering off to do their chores. It was well that they did. It gave me time with my thoughts. I stared out the window, wondering inwardly what he might have been doing.

  Something shifted in his doorway, and I realized, much to my mortification, that his mother was staring back at me. I sucked in a breath and lost my senses in the process. For reasons I would never know, I ducked down like I had been shot at. My heart hammered in my chest, and curses crawled through my mind. Great, now she would think I was incompetent and a coward. A regular prize all the way around. I sighed and let my head tilt back and rest against the wall.

  Wine, he had said. I could do with some wine right now.

  My eyes were heavy, my muscles sore and spent. I had blisters on my fingers from peeling vegetables and working the garden. All I had to do before life in Galena was boil rags. Comfort husbands while their wives labored or the occasional vigil with the mother of an ailing child. I shook my he
ad and glanced toward the door. Laughter filtered in, and I closed my eyes, savoring the few moments of stolen reprieve.

  A bang sounded no more than a moment later. My head swam, and I blinked, trying to piece together the scene before me. Sven straightened some logs. Osanna set the table clinking the plates against each other as she slid them from the stack.

  Normal.

  It was safe and well.

  I peeled my ass from the floor and moved toward the fire. Using some longer utensils, I held and flayed the roast. It fell apart with ease, and clear juice ran from within it.

  “It smells amazing,” Sven announced. He sat down with a smile that nearly reached both ears. Even Osanna had a second bowl before I tucked them away in their furs and sat down near the fire with my own. The broth was rich and salty, the flavors bringing out the best in the pork. I had just washed my bowl and started on an ale when Thorne pecked lightly at the door.

  “I tried to stay away long enough for them to get settled,” he whispered.

  I reached for my shawl and allowed him to lead me outside. Rather than perching on the stoop, he led me around the side of the house. Chickens scurried about and clucked their objections to our intrusion. He had placed the bench against the side of the house, so we could sip and speak in the sanctuary of the shadows.

  I emptied the ale from my mug with a quick jerk of the wrist and held it out in wait. Thorne laughed and poured a few fingers worth of the sweet brew into it.

  He leaned back with a sigh that visibly relaxed him. “He hasn’t been back, has he?”

  I shifted my head in denial and savored my first taste. It had been ages since I had good wine. It had been rare to find a decent bottle in Olaf’s Fjord. The peddlers often watered it down. This was different. It coated my mouth and tantalized my taste buds.

  My lips were tainted with the fruity sweetness, and then they were covered with Thane’s firm, patient mouth. He kissed me, hesitantly, before nuzzling his nose against mine and searching my eyes. When I didn’t object, leaning toward his retreating lips instead, his fingers slid along my jaw. He secured my chin and took his time, deepening the kiss, until I had his lips memorized and our tongues were getting acquainted. I placed my hand on his shoulder, and his long thick braids slid over my knuckles. When he broke the moment, his thumb traced my lower lip and swigged from the bottle without losing his smile.