Viking Lost

by Derek Nelsen

  “Mother?” Erik couldn’t help but smile at how ridiculous that sounded. “This is quite a lot of food. Were you expecting Skadi to come visiting today?”

  Runa did not scowl. “Not at all. This is for your last meal, Erik.” Runa’s smile looked genuine. “You are a man now. Who knows if you will ever return?”

  “I was hoping to catch Ragi before he left,” said Skadi. “I found a few more things that I thought he might need.” It was hard to tell which woman disliked her stepson more.

  “I’ll make sure he gets it,” Magnus offered.

  Erik was surprised Magnus could bear to look at the woman. She wasn’t good to him or his mother. Magnus was freeborn, but she’d let him act like her servant as long as he’d allow it. It reminded Erik of how he used to lick Runa’s boots until she slapped him with the epiphany that it wasn’t going to fix anything. Then he resented her even more for allowing him to try so hard for so long.

  “Whatever she’s brought, it’s for her son, Magnus. Not you. You didn’t bring anything for Magnus did you, Skadi?” Erik didn’t know why, but something inside him made him want to pick a fight. The faster they got out of there, the better.

  Magnus’s face turned red. Then, as if Erik was the problem, he threw a piece of dried fish at him, which Erik caught and popped into his mouth.

  Runa eyed Erik as if he was stealing food from the cupboard while she picked up little Jeger off the floor and gave him a piece of cheese.

  Whenever his father was away, she’d always found her reasons to keep Erik from filling his stomach, and she did it in a way so that it was just their little secret. It was always for the sake of the family—to make sure there was enough food to last the winter. Ever since he was little, she figured out a way to ignore the growling of his stomach, the way she ignored a dog when it scratched at the door to come in from the cold. Any dog but Jeger. He was hers.

  So, Erik was particularly pleased to have Skadi here to shield him from Runa’s excuses about not having enough food. The lies were worse than the hunger. He hadn’t eaten this well since the last time Kiara snuck him lunch in the woods. Tricks like that, along with stealing the porridge Runa’d been leaving in the barn for the nisse, kept him from starving to death altogether.

  “Can I get you anything else, boys?” Runa’s lips were stretched thin, but nothing could get her to break character in front of Skadi.

  Erik put his arm around his stepmother. “What else have we got?” He liked this game. Today he was leaving, and Runa had no tomorrow to rob him of his portion.

  “You’re already taking my heart.” Runa held up her little Lundehund. “I don’t know why your father insists on sending him.”

  But Erik and Toren understood. Tor had brought Jeger home as a gift for Runa after coming back from the one and only time he spent the summer away helping Pedar with his trading up the coast. Jeger was to be a companion for Runa while Tor was away on hunting trips, and he did that job very well. She loved that mischievous little dog, often letting him live inside the house during the frigid winter months.

  And although Jeger’s skills weren’t immediately appreciated by the boys, they soon learned he had one that made their stepmother very happy. He was a natural bird dog. After they finally trained him to stop raiding the neighbors’ chicken coops, his positives quickly outweighed his negatives. In one evening, all by himself, that little dog could bring home enough wild pheasant to feed the whole family. He would have stripped the whole mountain had the boys not continued to work with him until he was pretty well trained to only hunt on command. By the third year, he’d wiped the pheasant from their side of the mountain, but occasionally he’d still come home with a bird, ignorant of the range of his territory.

  “Ragi said the only good Jeger would be on this trip would be to be used as bait,” laughed Magnus.

  Both Skadi and Runa stared at him with knives coming out of their eyes until he joined Toren to help watch the falling snow.

  Even though most of the troupe felt the little Lundehund would be more useful than Ragi in all practicalities, Erik was glad Ragi was going. He might not have been able to pull his own weight, but his horse could, and his father would make sure it was packed with enough food for all of them.

  When the boys were younger, Tor took them on a two-night hunting trip. Pedar made sure Ragi’s pack was full, and it was more food than they could eat in a week. Erik stole enough food from him that week that both their packs were still half full when they got home. He had a stash in the barn that kept him fed for weeks—for the nights Runa would make up reasons to send him to bed without supper.

  Erik grabbed more of the rich, caramel-colored goat cheese and raised it toward Skadi, as if to toast her for being so wonderful.

  “Runa?” said Skadi, “why aren’t your boys taking horses again? If it’s a matter of money, I could’ve let them have some of ours. Worst case, Ragi could offer them as gifts to Jarl Adar if Erik and Magnus don’t come back.” Skadi looked at Erik as if she understood why Runa was so happy to see him go.

  “Tor was worried as soon as they got hungry the boys might eat them.” Runa smiled.

  “Hungry? Why would they go hungry?” Skadi asked. “More bread, Erik?”

  “Thank you,” Erik replied, as he cut half the loaf and stuffed it into his sack.

  Toren opened the door and looked outside again, pretending to look for Ragi—more likely hoping for Anja.

  “We’ve got to get going,” Toren said sharply, as if the women’s hen-pecking was suddenly upsetting him.

  “You’re right, Toren.” Erik kept talking to buy time to survey what he hadn’t already pilfered off the table. “It’s already mid-morning.”—he grabbed the bread—“the days are still short,”—he filled a scrip with dried cod—“and we probably need to get moving if we’re going to make it to where we’re going to camp tonight before sunset. Would you pass me the cheese, mother?” Erik cut the brick in two and smiled at Runa as he stuffed it in his scrip.

  “Where are you planning to stay tonight again?” Skadi asked.

  “We haven’t decided yet. Father wanted to keep it close.”

  “Here, Erik, you look thin.” Skadi put another sack on the table. “Surely you know, though, right?”

  “What is that?” asked Runa.

  “It’s what I was saving for Ragi. Just some cakes Elsa made with some berries she preserved last year. I just wanted to make sure there was enough.” Skadi sounded a little agitated. “I’d like to know that you know where you’re going if I’m going to allow Ragi to go with you.”

  “Don’t let him go then.” Erik took the other half of the block of cheese.

  Runa was not smiling. “Toren, here, have some cake before Erik and Magnus eat it all.”

  “We’ve got to go if we’re ever going to get back.” It was clear that Toren’s mind had turned a corner. What wasn’t clear was if it was because of Anja’s absence or the fact that he was about to lead such a goofy bunch of boys on a trip around the fjord before the first blade of green pierced the snow. “It’s starting to snow harder now.” What had started as a simple agitation was quickly snowballing. He closed the door and started putting on his layers.

  Erik and Magnus started grabbing their gear and layering up.

  “If Ragi shows up, tell him if we’re not out at the woodpile in the woods then he’s on his own.” The sound of heavy hoofs stopped him short.

  “It’s about time,” Erik said as he grabbed the remaining pieces of the bread and cheese and stuffed them into scrips.

  “He must have been saying goodbye to the entire village,” said Magnus.

  “My father will kill him if he did,” replied Erik. “This was supposed to be a secret.”

  “Vidar knows nothing we don’t want him to know.” Skadi put some cakes in another scrip. “Which direction are you going?” she badgered on. “Tell me that, at least.”

  Erik grabbed the little sacks from her hand. He was running out of place
s to put them.

  “Hurry,” Toren said. “If he gets off that horse we’ll never get to the bald before dark.”

  “Which bald?” Skadi was being drowned out by the scuffle.

  The boys cinched on their heavy packs. The women were having some sort of race. Skadi was trying to fill small scrips with whatever food she could gather faster than Runa could stow it back in the cupboard.

  Runa slipped in one last lie. “There will be a time when you miss my cooking. Don’t go feeding any of that to your dogs.” The boys ran out the door, spinning each other around to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything.

  Erik slipped off into the barn. “I brought you something.”

  Kiara put down the pitchfork and ran over to hug Erik around the neck. Sacks of food fell to the ground as she wet his cheeks with her tears. “I can’t believe you’re leaving me.” She hugged his neck so tight he had to pry her arms apart to breathe.

  Erik suddenly felt like he wanted to tell her everything, how excited he was, how scared he was, how sorry he was—for the first time in his life, he had no reason to hide.

  “I’m not even sure exactly where we’re going. To the sea and take a right is all I can remember.”

  “Take me to the sea and then let’s keep going until we get to Ireland, away from all this ice and snow. I promise it’ll be the greenest place you’ve ever seen.”

  Kiara’s eyes looked even more like emeralds when her cheeks were red from the cold.

  Had she not blinked, he’d have lost himself in those eyes. “I-I made this for you.” Why did he feel so nervous?

  She looked down and started to cry when she saw his gift. “Father helped me carve it,” he explained. “I know it’s not as nice as your father’s, but-”

  She jumped in his arms, grabbed him around the neck, and kissed him hard on the lips, like she would never let him go. It was his first kiss. Scrips of food fell to the ground.

  She tasted like sweet berries and spruce. Her warmth filled his empty soul, driving shivers of cold down into his boots, leaving behind a heat that made him want to take off his coat.

  When she loosed her grip, he realized it was he that was holding on to her. Erik put her gently down. Flustered, and unsure, he backed up to the door. “I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

  “Erik!” He could hear Toren yelling.

  Erik didn’t know what to do, but he didn’t want to leave.

  She came close again, put her arms up, and tucked his new scarf into his warm coat. Erik shivered at the touch of her cold fingers against the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he said. He didn’t know why.

  Her smile made him feel like everything was going to be alright. “It’s the nicest gift I’ve received in a long, long time.” She pulled him close and he met her halfway, kissing her this time. This time was different. Their lips grazed each other’s, gently at first, then deeper. For the eternity of that kiss, Erik forgot why he ever wanted to leave—why he could ever leave this girl. It was the first time he’d ever felt love, and for some reason he was leaving her behind.

  “I didn’t know if I’d see you again.” She eased herself back. “Will you come back for me?”

  “I will. I promise I will.”

  She started laughing as she pushed hard against his chest. His hands refused to let go, sliding along her cold coat.

  “You won’t forget me?” she asked, wiping tears away from her smiling eyes.

  He felt like the smile was frozen to his face. “How could I?”

  She pushed him toward the door.

  He didn’t know why, but he let her. It was the only way he could leave. When the door closed between them, Erik waited for second, hoping she’d open it again and drag him inside.

  “Erik! Let’s go.”

  The door didn’t open. Erik hesitantly turned. He could feel his cheeks almost cramping from the smile that refused to let go.

  It was mid-morning, one of those perfect days in early spring when the air was cold and the sun was warm.

  Ragi looked down from his horse as if he’d been waiting on them all morning.

  “Is that for me?” he asked, eyeing the scrip of food Erik held between his hands and teeth. Three went flying. One missed, another hit his horse, and he just managed to catch the third before it hit him in the face. Ragi frowned as he looked inside.

  “Dried cod for my going-away breakfast?”

  A gaggle of dogs surrounded him as if waiting for scraps.

  “I’ll give you anything you want if you promise to stay here,” replied Erik.

  As Ragi smirked defiantly, he began to empty the scrip to the dogs from his perch, like a king throwing coppers to his subjects. Runa hurried to save little Jeger from being trampled in the feeding frenzy. Shaking her head, she stole the scrip out of Ragi’s hand and implored the boys as she hand-fed her little pup.

  “Take care of my Jeger, now, alright? You take care of my dog.” Jeger tilted his head with a look that was almost as if he understood. Then he licked her nose. When Runa put him down, she wiped her face. As the little dog trotted over and climbed onto Erik’s sled, it wasn’t clear if Runa was wiping off Jeger’s goodbye kiss or her own tears.

  “Are you alright?” Ragi kicked at Erik.

  “Ja. Why?”

  “I can’t tell if you’re sad, or what.”

  “No.” Erik looked past the tears of his stepmother to the emerald eyes peeking from the shadows behind the barn door. “I’ve been waiting to leave this place my entire life.”

  Runa watched Skadi take the scrips out of Erik’s hand and tie them onto his sled. She looked like she was witnessing a robbery.

  Weapons Check

  Tor had been dreading his sons leaving even more than the holmgang. Things were changing so fast. In a way, he felt better knowing Toren would be there with Erik, for awhile at least. Had it not been for the Vikings, Erik would’ve been leaving on his own—if not this year, then next. Maybe it was better this way. Before Tor could see them, he could hear the chaos driving up the trail.

  First to arrive was Sterkr, who drove Erik’s sled through heavy powder to shortcut a path to Vigi and Tor. Little Jeger’s tongue flapped to one side as he rode high on Erik’s gear while Erik hung on to catch a tow. Ragi trotted up next on Gardrofa, followed by Toren and Magnus on skis, each pulling their own sleds and gear.

  “Don’t get Vigi too excited boys. He’s not going anywhere today.” Tor motioned for Ragi to get down from his horse.

  “Take off your packs. I want to take a look.”

  The boys started taking their bows and arrows off their packs, then their packs off their sleds.

  Ragi dismounted with an unpleasant look on his face as if being asked to do something very difficult, like waking up in the morning, or opening a door. He waved Tor off. “My father and I packed my things and we’ve got it balanced just the right way.”

  “You’re going to have to take it off eventually,” said Tor. “You can’t leave it on all night.”

  “I know that.”

  Tor wasn’t sure that he did. He shrugged and started with the others. “I want to see everything down to your fire kit.”

  “How did you keep your leaving a secret from Vidar?” Erik asked Ragi as he emptied his pack.

  “He never paid me much attention,” Ragi shrugged. “If Anja was leaving, he’d have noticed.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Toren threw his bag on a downed tree.

  “Calm down Toren. I’m sure she’s not interested in him. I’m just saying he has never cared what I was doing. Plus, he’s been gone a lot training for the duel.”

  “That was a waste of time,” Erik laughed.

  Tor looked hard at his youngest son. “I got him tired and angry and he made a mistake, that’s all. Vidar will rest and he will heal, but he will never forget. And he will seek revenge. That is our way.” Tor walked over to the horse and petted her nose. “If I had won, if I had done what I set out to do, none of yo
u would be leaving home—not on this task, and never at this time of year.”

  Tor needed to calm down. He wasn’t feeling very good about any of this. “What’s her name?” Tor scratched her thick, shaggy winter coat.

  “Gardrofa,” Ragi replied. “My father said she was always breaking free from her pen.”

  “Did you make that pen, father?” Erik laughed mischievously, like he did when he was little.

  Tor hadn’t seen that smile in a long time. He tapped the tree. “Where’s your fire-starting kit?”

  Erik looked, then raised his shoulders. “Guess I left it at home.”

  Tor glared at Erik, dug into his pack, and threw his own fire kit into his son’s gear. Every Norse male over the age of nine carried the basics to start a fire. It was wet country, summer or winter, and the ability to fire a spark into some dry tinder could mean the difference between life or death.

  “That’s a bad start, Erik. I need you to grow up now. It’s not Toren’s job to take care of you.” Then Tor shook his head. He didn’t want to state the obvious, but what choice did he have? “Toren, take care of your brother.” Tor started wondering if there was any other way. Exhaling heavily, he walked slowly around Ragi’s old mare to collect his thoughts.

  “She is strong and smart.” Ragi’s cheeks were pink.

  “What?” Then Tor realized he was talking about the horse. “No offense to your father, Ragi, but I don’t think a horse packing your burden for you is the best way to get where you want to go. Still, she will be useful.” She was a healthy old mare, likely seventeen, only a year or two older than her rider. She was a typical farm horse, just under fourteen hands, brown dun in color, with a near white mane and tail—better kept than any horse on Tor’s farm.

  Ragi decided to ignore Tor and pet the dog. If any of his sons had shown that disrespect—well, he wasn’t, that was obvious, and this trip would either make him or break him.

  Tor rummaged through his boy’s packs, removing some items from each. “You can’t carry everything. Sometimes, having too much will weigh on you like an anchor.”