When he opened them again, two boys were looking down at him.
“Lord Thoddun told Safn,” said one boy.
“And Safn told us,” said the other.
“Where to find you and to come and get you,” said the first, slightly shorter. “And he explained exactly who you are.”
“Are you really his son?” said the second.
“No one knew he even had a son,” added the first.
“I’m Erik,” said the other.
“And I’m Egil. Apart from being leader and king here, Lord Thoddun’s our tutor so we know him pretty well. It must be amazing to be his son. Are you like us – do you have – channels?”
Knut sat still and stared. He had been prepared to hate everyone. They had massacred his people. But they were more beautiful and stronger and victorious. They were also his people. He was also victorious. Victor and loser. He relinquished jealousy. “Yes,” he said. “Thoddun says I’m a Threefold.”
“Fafnir’s gizzards,” said Erik. “I suppose – well, of course Thoddun’s a Fourfold so I expect you inherited – are they the same channels?”
Knut nodded. “Eagle and bear.”
“I’m an eagle,” said Egil.
Knut said, “I dream of flying. But I can’t Shift yet. My father says I’m too young.” He was dressed in a prince’s embroidered silks. The boys wore rough wool. At first Knut felt proud of his riches, then shamed. “Do you Shift - already?”
Egil nodded. “Not awfully well sometimes, but I’m getting better at it. Now we’re to take you to Safn. Thoddun, I mean Lord Thoddun, he says to look after you. Safn has a sky channel too. Thoddun won’t be coming yet, and our Second’s been badly wounded. So was Thoddun. Did you know?”
Yes, he knew. He’d been ready to nurse his father when the call had come about the woman Then Thoddun had flung everyone from him and raced outside. “But he’ll be alright. It was bad I think, but not serious. And I expect he can look after himself.”
“He’s looking after Skarga now,” said Egil. “But we’re going to join the feast.”
“Don’t be shy,” said Erik. “Pretty much everyone’s had Lord Thoddun’s thought call now, and his instructions, so they know who you are. They’re waiting to greet you.”
“I’m never shy,” said Knut, pink flushed.
“Of course not,” said Erik. “Which is just as well because there wouldn’t be any need. You’re our prince. The men are excited to see you. You’ll be treated as special. “
“Which is intimidating too,” nodded Egil. “But naturally, you’d never be intimidated. So that’s alright.”
“But I bet you’re starving.”
The place of healing was high domed. Below the ceiling’s arched peak were opening slits where the cleansing air blew through. Lower, where the beds lay in their shadows, the warmth gathered. There were no blazing torches, fires or lanterns and no flame was lit. The darkness remained undisturbed. Lodver lay feverish and beside him many other wounded, nursed by healers, men trained and skilled in herbs, tending both with care and with magic. The chanting was low and individual. The injured men slept, each healer bent beside each passive couch.
The place where Thoddun took Skarga was smaller and quite empty. The bed was thick with furs and silks, many brought from his own chamber. He lay beside her, curving his body tight to hers, and put his sound arm beneath and around, elbow wedged rigid to support him. His other arm, weaker from the damaged clavicle, he lay across her breasts, clasping her palms within his. Sometimes he chanted, then leaned over and passed the enchantment directly into her eyes and mouth and nostrils. When her ribs expanded gently with his breath inside her lungs, he leaned back and whispered certain words, and began again to sing. He was tired and in some pain but his breath, strong from chanting, became vibrant with magic. It was channelling breath he breathed into her mouth, forcing his own quadruple energy through her body. As he had made Grimr’s dead wolf cub respond, so he entered Skarga’s first fading moment of departure, seducing death into life. The magic of the chanting which he might have used for the Shift, he gave to her, over and over, being the source of the transanima. All through the night he continued until, needing to renew his own power, he slept. Then he woke and began again.
He moved into her mind. At the point of death she had relinquished her grasp of either past or present. She did not dream. He searched his own mind for what he knew of her, and replaced the great open shadows with colour and comfort and the pleasantries of her own personality, which he adored. When he saw she was bleeding again, and that the wound appeared to open and weep, he closed it beneath his fingers. The bleeding did not disturb him and simply proved her life’s force renewed, even beyond the injection of his own.
Once sure of her return, he took time to visit Lodver’s mind and knew his recovery slow but hopeful. Then he wandered into Grimr’s thoughts and read his peaceful sleep. He traced Knut, determining his son’s safety and growing confidence. Knut had discovered strong wine and was joyous with a full belly and the gathering of friends. Thoddun returned again quickly to Skarga.
His concentration and chanting knitted his own broken bones as women and old men knit fine wool, creating something strong and useful from something useless. As his collar bone mended, so he held Skarga tighter, transferring much of his expanding strength to her. His chanting became spasmodic, the gift of his breath more occasional. Desperate speed now turned to patient serenity.
Finally, lifting himself a little higher on one elbow, Thoddun took back his breath for himself and made one last leap into Skarga’s thoughts. She had reclaimed them. Thoddun waded into silver pools and watched her thinking of him. He avoided her dark sad memories and the almost forgotten cruelties of her past, bringing light instead to her moments of greatest happiness and vigour to her hopes of the future. Eventually they slept close together, his head against her shoulder where her hair lay like polished copper, and where he could hear the reassurance of her steady breathing beneath his ear. Then he also dreamed his own dreams, being infused with his own hopes, without entering the dreams of others. They stayed entwined through the long night and into the dawn of the following day.
When Thoddun woke he saw her eyes flicker. The sudden sheen of troubled blue caught the pale light now entering from above. He sat, shrugged back the stiff discomfort of strained muscles, and smoothed the frowns from her brow and mouth with his fingertips. Then he leaned over and kissed her lips. She gasped, one more intake of his breath, hot where hers remained chill, and opened her eyes fully.
He whispered, “Come back to me, my love, and resume your life.”
She heard the words one by one, as if punctuated by long silences. When at last she understood, she wondered, “Was I dead, then?” She did not speak aloud. Thoddun heard the words through her mind like little fluttering wings.
He smiled. “No, or I would not have the power to bring you back. But you were so close, with only the thickness of a snow flake between you and death.”
“I feel different,” she said, speaking aloud.
“You are different,” he smiled. “You now carry me always inside.”
She smiled, misunderstanding, closed her eyes once again and went very calmly back to sleep.
The new day brightened and men stirred, heavy headed, blundering out to the middens, searching for breakfast and friends to share memories. The great victory was recounted a thousand times, death and honour gradually merging into saga and myth. But Knut woke late and discovered himself alone and leaden. He remembered the night’s celebrations but none of the exultation. His thoughts called out to his father but received no reply. He stretched, gathered food left cold from the feast, and stumbled out to Grimr’s chamber. He found it shut against him. “I can’t get in,” yelled Knut, knocking wildly. “The door’s locked. I’ve brought you food.”
Grimr sighed. The bang and rattle woke him abruptly. He called for Ingmar.
Knut shouted again. “Who? Are you awake Fa
ther? Has anyone told you what’s been happening? Aren’t you hungry?”
Grimr rolled over and opened his eyes. He saw black emptiness. The dream had nursed the wolf. The chamber nursed nothing. He reached to resuscitate the dream but found no wolf cub. He began to scream.
Knut blanched and stumbled back from the locked door. He tried to see through into his father’s mind but the screaming was too shrill and piercing and it horrified him. He turned and ran, leaving the platter of food spilling on the ground.
Skarga lay in Thoddun’s careful embrace, learning how to smile again. She could see his gentle watchfulness and murmured, “I don’t remember very much.”
“You don’t need to,” smiled Thoddun.
There was little need to speak. Thoddun wandered her thoughts, alighting in calm places, whispering his smiles. “I don’t hear you,” she said at last, “as a transanima should. But I know you’re there. I feel you, touching like cobwebs inside my mind.”
“Perhaps one day you’ll hear my words,” Thoddun said. “But for now it’s enough that you feel me. It’s enough that you’re alive at all.”
“Was I really dying? I can’t remember pain.”
“Death never brings pain,” Thoddun said. “Only sometimes alarm and anger in battle. I brought you back not to save you pain, but to save you for myself.”
“I think you’re hurt too. Do I remember that?”
He told her, briefly, what had happened. He reminded her of what she had previously known and told her what she could not have known. He explained the battle victory and Ogot’s arrival. He brought her fingertips to his own injury and assured her of his recovery. “But you’ll be weak for a while, and must stay here,” he said. “Later I need to see the men. I didn’t attend my people’s funeral, and must visit the place of their ashes. Then I’ll deal with Knut, and with Grimr.”
“I’d almost forgotten Grimr.”
He laughed. “Then my cure was astonishing after all,” he said. “But all your memories will return in time.”
She nodded. “And you’ve been deeper into my head. So now you know even more about my past. That still feels – unpleasant. Dirty. You watching while I was -”
He held her tighter, restraining her carefully. “Remember - I’ve been raped too, my love. I know about the hurt and the degradation. Being buggered isn’t the best way to get to know your father.”
She said, “You don’t have to tell me about that.”
“No, of course I don’t, little cub.” His breath was very warm across her eyes. “But I’m prepared to give you, at any time, the gift of my own mind and its thoughts, which you can’t hear for yourself. And if you’re to put up with me, and trust me, and even go a little way towards understanding me, then I have to give you free entrance to those dismal memories, which I might like to forget, but cannot.”
“I already trust you,” she whispered. “Do you need proof? Or are you proving you trust me too?”
He kissed her forehead, which was damp and warm. “I don’t deal in proofs,” he said. “But while I know almost everything about you, you know little of me. No, don’t object.” He put one finger to her lips. “I can’t help hearing your thoughts. They shout at me, dragging me in. I haven’t always welcomed the knowledge of your past, especially concerning my brother. But the transanima are used to travelling each other’s minds and we do not seek privacy as humans do. I can build barriers around my thoughts, disguising and blocking for reasons of ambush or manipulation, but not simply to shiver and hide. Now for the moment we’re as close as we’ll ever be, with a night of my breath and my songs keeping your heartbeat alive. I can bring you understanding both in words and in mind, so I’ll make use of that while I can. As transanima, the opening of my thoughts is the gift of understanding to those I love. If it’s understanding you want.”
Skarga slipped her palm up to his cheek. “Tell me everything – that doesn’t hurt.”
“To humans, we seem all dark,” he said softly. “But to ourselves we’re normal as any children playing under the first sunshine and the spring blossoms. We discover true darkness only if the channel weakens or dies. Then we become inert and fall into shadow. My father carried the flightless eagle, which yearned for the clouds but was trapped on the ground. I’ve told you what he did. My mother held us down, Grimr and myself, and greased us for our father to penetrate. They were predators, and so are we. They protected us from all others but never taught us love. We never knew the first thing about it.”
She bit her lip. “You’re not – excusing Grimr because of that?”
“There are no excuses ever,” Thoddun said. “Not for Grimr, nor for me. But there are reasons. I want you to understand me, perhaps forgive me for what I am, and to forgive yourself for your memories. And from now on, I’ll answer all those absurd questions you sometimes ask me. Not because the answers will make the slightest difference to your life, my love, but to bring you into my heart and head.”
“I don’t want anything except having you here.”
“A feminine misapprehension,” he smiled. “Remember - everything Grimr is, I could be. I can be cruel too, though not to you. I told you once, though perhaps you’ve forgotten, or perhaps you never believed me, that Grimr loved you before I did. Grimr’s wolf is dead so for him loving brings decay and the stench of death. What he loves also becomes his prey.”
She was confused. “You want me to think you’re like that too?”
“Silly little kitten.” He shook his head again. “I have three living channels, not one dead one. But I can be more bear than man. The bear does not enjoy cruelty, but kills without pity. The orca is the most ruthless, and as yet you’ve seen little of him. But you now have so much of my life force within you, I hope to give you knowledge even so soon after death, without frightening you. Can you love a man, without knowing him? But as a man, I knew nothing of love until I knew your mind. The bear does not know love, only lust. The orca does not know love, only need. The eagle does not know love and stays cold until he discovers utter commitment, and then mates for life. As a man I encompass all of this, the faults as well as the strengths. I don’t expect you to admire the faults, but practise tolerance perhaps. As a transanima, I can only be what I am.”
“Such honesty seems almost - vulnerable,” whispered Skarga, “It’s sweet feeling you in my thoughts. Like a small rustling echo, pushing into the silences.”
Thoddun laughed. “Now, for instance, if I listen a little further, I can hear the snorts and grumbles of a thousand sleeping men. There’s Safn - as comfortable as he’s ever been. There’s Halfdan, spitting grievances as he tramps down to the main cave to Shift. Your young friend Erik has rolled into hot ashes and woken with a fright. Karr’s enjoying beating out the cinders on the back of his tunic. And Egil – well Egil is – shall I tell you?”
“Egil isn’t sick? Not wounded?”
Thoddun chuckled. “He’s busy losing his virginity and wondering which is better, fucking or Shifting. But he’s still got human habits and has taken the woman in private. I won’t interrupt his privacy.”
Skarga decided, “And I do understand why none of you value privacy. How can you – with everyone blundering into each other’s thoughts without asking?”
Thoddun had looked up suddenly, raising one hand. He rolled sideways and sat. “It’s damned useful sometimes,” he said. “Like now. I’m sorry. I have to go.”
Skarga was startled. “Something’s wrong? Not with Egil?”
“Not with Egil,” said Thoddun, standing quickly and shrugging off the bed covers. “It’s something I can handle easily enough. But I need to go at once. I’ll be back as soon as I can. And I have to lock you in.”
Now she was worried. “Enemies? Danger?”
He shook his head, already at the doorway. “Sleep if you can,” he said. “You’re still weak, still ill, not fully recovered. There’s no danger.” And he left abruptly. She heard him lock the door.
She lay back down a
nd wished, very much, that her newly heightened transanima talents, just allowing her to acknowledge Thoddun’s entrance into her mind, could go deeper and let her read the explanation of what was now happening.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Knut found Egil. “It’s the man I used to think was my father. He’s locked in but he needs food. I think he’s hurt. Where do they keep the keys?”
“You’ll have to ask Thoddun,” Egil said. “I don’t know and I don’t have access to anything like that. Only Thoddun and Lodver know.”
“They’re both wounded. What about an axe to chop the door down? It’s only a little door.”
There were few to ask. In the halls the fires lay low across the smoking hearths and the carcasses on the spits were all ragged bones, blackened and gutted. The men lay where they had sat the night before, now belching and snoring. A bear grumbled in his dreams, three men’s sleeping heads resting on the soft white pillow of his belly. Most of those who Shifted had left the castle, wandering the snows freely again after the long march and the exhaustion of the battle. The ale barrels were empty. The halls were full. The dormitories echoed, smelling of recent usurpers, the misery of those men’s hunger and the stink of their human flesh. The transanima were lost in more comfortable dreams.
“Come on then,” said Egil. “No transanima ought to be locked up. How did it happen? Did he lock himself in? I’ll try and wake Erik and we’ll find some axes.”
Grimr was still screaming. The sound had thinned, like the whine of an exhausted puppy. The axed door splintered and Knut stepped towards the opening. He frowned. “Now I’ll be better alone.”
Ogot’s small army had brought their home comforts with them on their travels. As the sailors do when hoping to settle new lands, and as soldiers do when expecting to be long away, they had brought supplies and tents with bedding, and women. Tracking out into the great wild unknown of the empty north, they’d journeyed heavy, and, without hope of foraging along the way, carried well packed slings across their backs and pulled their own small laden sleds. Many of these failed the passage. Their food was eaten, the ale drunk. Tents blew away and sodden blankets being wearisome to carry, many were lost. But the women survived. Though now given soft beds and good food within the castle, the women first shrank together. Terrified and furious to see their men so quickly killed, they then balanced past loyalty with self-interest and quietly joined the transanima feast. They saw men Shift. Dragged away from the chanting and the funeral and the horror of monsters before their eyes, they were taken inside where the noise was raucous and the fires hot. But it was in men’s arms that they knew themselves safe again, familiarity renewed, and eventually they slept, warm and well fed.
Stars and a Wind- The Complete Trilogy Page 82