The Shift-back was almost complete. Grimr’s eyes were blue again, his nose narrow and straight. He stared up and smiled shyly. “Very well, big brother.” He breathed deep and smiled wider, discovering the pain gone. He smiled, flexing his fingers. “Now I’m myself again. Your obedient pupil.”
Thoddun frowned. “I’m not asking for your subservience. I’m not interested in your obedience. If you ignore me, it’s yourself you’re depriving. You’ve lost your war, little brother, and most of your people. If you fight me, you’ll also lose the first gasps of your wolf’s life, which is all you have left. It’s simple enough.”
Grimr smiled, moving more comfortably back into his own skin. “Simple? You may be simple, my dear, but life is not. Not transanima life at least, and never for me.”
“You still don’t listen.” Thoddun shook his head. “The war is over and your people dead. I’ve taken a few prisoners. You can lead them back to our father’s valley, when you’re ready. I won’t hold you here, but if you want to stay until I’ve explored every possibility for your wolf and taught you the Shift, then you can. But I’ll keep you locked away. I won’t have you running free.”
“Frightened, big brother? For my boy, who you want to steal from me? Or for your puerile little human bitch, stolen from me too.”
His own smile patient, Thoddun looked down, and brushed the tangles of bright golden hair from is eyes. “It’s the easiest way to protect them both, my dear,” Thoddun said. He paused, then smiled again. “But it’s you who’re frightened. You’ve nurtured cruelty – always the sham for repressed anger. And anger is always born of fear. Unrecognised perhaps, but fear all the same.”
Grimr snorted. “You bleat continuously about fear. I’ve admitted fear for my wolf. But for nothing else.”
“It’s yourself you’re afraid of,” sighed Thoddun. “As we all are. Not of what we are, of course, but of what we fear we are not.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
“He’s – better now,” said Thoddun. “He’s himself at least. Go to him, comfort him - as you wish. But I’ve taken him to another chamber and I’ll keep him locked up. When you want to talk to him, I’ll need to lock you in too.”
Knut shook his head, staring at his feet. He was slumped on the ground outside the main hall, with the grumbles and snores of the men joyfully thunderous within. He hugged his knees, backed against the ice wall. “He doesn’t need me,” Knut said, “and I don’t need him. I ran away from him after I saw into his mind.”
“He was not himself,” said Thoddun quietly.
“But it’s all him, isn’t it?” demanded Knut. “That horrid sick wheedling wolf cub inside and outside the man who likes torturing us all. I heard his thoughts. Now I know. He always knew I probably wasn’t his son. All these years, and he knew it.”
“Feared it.”
“No. Knew it or guessed it. And guessed I was yours. So brought me here to show you. Show you your own whelp. And then kill me in front of you. To hurt you.”
“Thoughts from the back of his mind, rekindled in the bitterness of an unresolved Shift by a half dead channel.” Thoddun leaned down and pulled the boy up. “I’ve been teaching him the importance of surrender. He may not live long enough to learn it, but he can start. You need to learn it too.”
“What for? To be your prisoner too? To be locked in as well?”
Thoddun smiled. “As my son, you belong to me in a sense – until you accomplish the Shift, and then you’ll learn to surrender to yourself.”
Knut sighed, slumping down again. His shoulders seemed suddenly narrowed and boneless and his face lost animation. “It’s all too hard,” he said, very small voiced. “I just want to go home.”
“This is home now.” Thoddun turned on his heel, looking back over his shoulder from the long shadows. “Consider yourself my prisoner if that satisfies your self-pity. Indeed, if you rebel against me, or do anything absurd, I might restrain you. But you’re my son, not my prisoner, and you can wander here in absolute freedom.” He frowned before walking on. “Now my Second’s recovering only slowly, and needs me. My men need me. My woman needs me. Sulk if you wish, but I suggest you search out the two boys you’ve befriended. You can find them through their thoughts if you want to. And I’ll be back when I’ve time for you again. Then I’ll find you a suitable chamber of your own.”
Knut sat for some time, watching the shadows swing, darken, and fade, as men woke and wandered from the feasting hall, tramping off to their beds, or down to the caves or out to the wild open snows for Shifting. No one took any notice of him at all, and Knut sat there until he felt cold. He did not look for Egil or Erik. They found him. Erik stared at the small hunched figure occupying only his own little shadow in the corridor.
“You keep sitting in passages. What’s wrong with the halls?”
“They’re full of people I don’t know,” muttered Knut.
“Whereas the corridors are full of people you do know?”
“Well, he knows us,” grinned Egil. “And we’re here.”
“You shouldn’t even be talking to me,” said Knut into his collar. “I never told you before, but I came with the – humans – and Grimr. By rights, I’m your enemy. So you can go away and leave me alone. Or kill me. Or something.”
Egil sniggered. “Yes, kill his son for sitting in draughty corridors. Thoddun would just love that.”
“I’m not even sure I am his son.”
“He’s sure,” said Erik. “And he knows everything, I promise.”
“Come on,” nodded Egil. “Let’s go somewhere warm and talk and have something to eat. I’ve had a busy night and I’m starving. I want ale too, since your lot drank all the wine. And don’t take offence. I’ve no idea who my father was, but I know he was human, and stupid, and didn’t want me. My people turned out to be the enemy too – came with Ogot and got their stupid hides butchered. Deserved it as well.”
“Hurry up,” said Erik. “Egil’s been finding out the next best thing after Shifting, and I want to hear everything.”
“Maybe better than the Shift.”
“Impossible,” said Erik. “You’re just smug and disgustingly prick-proud.” He reached down and grabbed Knut’s elbow. “Let’s find a quiet fireside.”
As Thoddun sat awhile with Lodver whose mind was wandering while his body mended, he listened to his son’s thoughts, and smiled. When he left Lodver and returned to Skarga’s bedside, he was still gently aware of Egil’s discourse, and the avid attention given him by Erik and Knut.
Skarga had been thinking absently of lost friends, of Kjeld and his sweet loyalty, and of the suffering endured by so many who deserved, she thought, so much better. Her thoughts snapped back when Thoddun spoke.
“Your boy is having the first prurient conversation of his life.” Thoddun stretched himself, comfortably settled beside Skarga, pulling her into his embrace. “And is certainly corrupting my boy while he’s at it.”
“Egil and Knut?” Skarga murmured. “Are they friends now? Then that’ll make it easier for them. But after living with Grimr, I imagine Knut knows everything already. And considerably more bad than good.”
Thoddun paused, his fingers loose in her hair, his breath warm against her forehead. “Does it matter to you,” he asked quietly, “that I gave less allowance to your brothers than I have, this far, to my own?”
Her energy was returning. “I don’t even want to remember my family. Yours even less. You know what you’re doing. I accept your decisions.”
He grinned. “What a dutiful queen. But that won’t help me at all you know little cub. When you discover all my weaknesses and forgive them, then you’ll hopefully appreciate my strengths, and forgive them too.”
“I don’t feel like talking philosophy.” Skarga sighed. “I don’t even want to think anymore. I want to get out of this sweaty bed. I want to breathe deep and run and dance and make love.” Thoddun held her, as if she might escape him and rush from the bed to dance in the snow.
She smiled back at his frown lines, the small tired bruises beneath his blue eyes and the tug at the corners of his mouth. “It’s you exhausted, not me. You’ve fought battles. You were wounded too. But I’m as fresh as a poppy uncurling.”
“No, you’re as weak as a jellyfish.” He laughed. The chuckle caught in his throat like the gurgle of the tide, and Skarga laughed too. “If I made love to you now, I think I might squash you,” Thoddun continued. “I know my own limits, my love. But I have Fourfold reserves. I don’t know your reserves. You still hold your secrets. Do you have something inside, perhaps, that still eludes me?”
The wild men who had refused to fight had already left the castle. Shifting at once, they were deeply relieved to return to wolf pelt and freedom. They would come back to the castle sometimes, they said, should they ever need food or succour, or some rare desire for company beyond the pack. Then Thoddun dealt with Grimr’s humans who had surrendered to him.
“My men will take you south through the long tunnels,” Thoddun told them. “Being the manner in which you came, you already understand both the advantages and the difficulties of travelling underground. I can give you sufficient supplies and you’ll meet no challenges. But Grimr will not travel with you. When you arrive back at your township, you should make your own decisions. Wait for Grimr to follow if you will, but don’t wait too long. I should warn you, he’s unlikely to return. Find another chief, or simply rely on the rule of your Althing court. Look for the king over the mountains perhaps. I wish neither responsibility nor leadership.”
“But you are our leader, lord,” said one. “By right as the eldest son of our old king, and now by conquest. It was you, lord, we surrendered to.”
“Surrender,” smiled Thoddun, “is a condition recently much on my mind. But I look for no vassals or huskarls and I don’t intend to leave here. Take your freedom, and my respect, and go home.”
It was springtime and the sun’s low arc flung its shadows long, but already each day captured greater light and each night’s deep darkness shrank a little more. The harp seals were breeding out on the floes and the ringed seals were puffing through holes in the pack ice, teaching their new pups the safety of silence in terror of the wandering predators. The walrus were bellowing their prowess across the snowy beaches while nervous harems protected their small hairless infants from the danger of their father’s unpredictable bulk. Violet saxifrage sprouted over damp mossy rock, algae emerged like little blue pools from the melt, the first tiny spiders discovered the fronds of sedges to support the fragility of web and trap. The glaciers calved, exploding huge splinters into the ocean, while placid valleys of creamy sea ice slumped into floating sludge, drifting windward to the vast open grey beyond. Small bergs crackled, stranded along the coast as the wind whipped the tops off the waves and sent them scurrying into the sunset.
The sea birds had arrived, a raucous squabble of nesting fury all along the cold white islands, scraping out dips lined with scrub or bare scrabbled dents in the rock, jealously guarded, to lay their precious eggs. Feathers ruffled into blanched vertical ice by the bitter winds, downy chick fluff nestled beneath fluttering protective tails, pairs fishing off in the silver swarming shallows, then heads tucked down against the lowering clouds, skua attack, or the sudden silencing sea mists.
The castle larders were low, the wine cellars empty. Many of the bears quickly Shifted for hunting, others organised extended expeditions south for trade and barter. Called by the season, the transanima left the castle for all the reasons of their kind, for mating, for exploration and for the restless solitude of their channels. The castle corridors echoed, ever more hollow.
Skarga returned, carried in Thoddun’s arms to his bedchamber; confined again to bed, but a bed that watched the tumbling sunshine captured in liquid music. Across the passageway was the chamber Thoddun now gave to his son. Its wide window was closed with frozen seal gut stretched into transparency. Pelts covered the floor and tapestries insulated the walls. The bed was a carved wooden cupboard, stuffed with feather mattresses and heaped with soft woven wool and seal skins. Spread over was a huge bearskin, thick and white and silky, with a small blood stain still visible half way down the back.
Knut did not visit his step-father. For several days Grimr saw no one, accepted food but did not speak. When Thoddun went to him, he turned his back and would not respond.
Lodver, recovering a little more, spent long evenings with Knut, talking and playing chess. Then Knut watched the dawns spread over the clear frosty skies in company with Egil and Erik, a constant spectator at their flying lessons with Safn, watching the exploration and practise of the perfect Shift. Shivering with excitement, Knut stood wrapped in his embroidered silks and furs, staring up open mouthed, seeing Egil and Erik sweep over while feeling the budding tremble of his own small eagle breathing within him, searching the confines of its tight nesting place and the adoring mind of the boy who enclosed it and would one day set it flying free.
Eventually Egil and Erik humped their bedding down the long corridors to Knut’s chamber, where they slept together, sharing excitement and talking through the long nights.
Thoddun discarded the tattered remains of his old clothes; battle torn and blood stained, and rooted out new ones. The shirt was a softer wool, pleated and bleached. The tunic was dull crimson, borders reinforced with metal thread designed in silver over black. Skarga, pleased, said, “I’ve never known you so grand. Shall I learn weaving at last and make you clothes fit for a king?”
Thoddun grinned. “Do you accuse me of finally living up to my brother’s example?”
She never mentioned Grimr if she could avoid it. She knew him locked safely away and at a great distance from her own chamber, but though it had been six full days since she had re-entered the castle, his shadow sat deep on her memory. She said, “You’re nothing like him and never could be. Besides, I think I prefer you with no clothes at all.”
“Interesting. Did I also pass on something of my vices perhaps, when I gave you my breath?”
“Is that a vice? And was I always so passive before?”
She stood outlined before the wall of water. The night was already deepening and the pale twilit shimmer of the falls had become twisted moon-silver. Thoddun took the lantern and breathed, lighting its small wick. The oil glowed briefly, then danced blue and scarlet, a hesitant smalt centre within a wild madder flare. Thoddun took Skarga and turned her, so that she faced outwards. He stood behind and clasped his hands across her brow, pulling her tight back against him, and lowered his mouth to her ear. “The ambiguity of vice,” he murmured, “is always suspect, yet always alluring.” Skarga felt his fingers hard on her forehead. His breath tickled her ear. Then she felt something quite different, as if steps tiptoed inside her mind. She shivered. “Are you cold, then?” he whispered. “So come with me, my love, into the deeps, where the sharp freeze spices adventure.”
She sighed, exhilarated. “Will you take me swimming? Like you did long, long ago, before I knew about loving?”
When he answered, she was no longer sure if he spoke aloud, or only into her mind. “Yes, I’ll take you swimming, little weanling. But we’ll do more than swim. I’ll teach you how the orca mates, and carry you deeper than you’ve ever been.” His voice rustled in her thoughts. He said, “Do I frighten you?”
“A little,” she murmured, swallowing hard.
“With the sea wolf, a little fear is the most exciting thing of all.” His hands remained fast on her head so when she felt him wandering across her body, she knew they had left the bedchamber and were already swimming. Then she heard the thunder of the ocean and felt the massive sweep of the current carrying her down. She leaned back against Thoddun, and he carried her to bed.
At first she felt both as woman and as sea creature. She felt Thoddun’s hands searching her, pushing aside her clothes and forcing his fingers into her. But the sensations of the orca were stronger. His voice murmured in the background of her awareness, soft
melodies like the chant and the flurried rhythm of the waves. “Only humans and the great air-breathers of the sea mate facing one to the other,” his voice whispered. “As with my woman, the orca swives belly to belly. We court, desiring the water as we desire each other, with chase and touch and exploration. Then the entering is swift and hard, only short as a thrust, but afterwards repeated, over and over and over. I want you this way, my beloved. Will you dive deep with me?”
A rush of imperative need hurtled through her body, ordering its response, but it was not the body she had been used to carrying. It was a vast and beautiful weight which swept her through the ocean. She pulsed with the delight of it and with her absolute necessity for her mate.
His pectoral fins turned and rolled her, coming close and then spinning away. The sea parted them, but he turned and drove towards her again. The water heaved either side of his bulk, he butted her and she spun, cascades of foam in her eyes and mouth. When he came again he rubbed the smooth side of his beak against her belly so that she tingled and shivered. Then, for a moment, he was gone. She followed him, swimming fast into the blackness where the smells of the ocean were rich and cold. All the ancient life of long ago and the forgotten creatures that once walked the lands and swam the seas, left the perfume of their memories behind on the liquid floors of the centuries.
She saw her lover, the startling white of his undersides in contrast to the depths, and chased him into the stronger currents, which rolled her, tickling her flanks. Then he came, a vast echo, hurtling upwards with the need to breathe. Together they breached, each bathed in the splash of the other, gulping in the bright air before plunging again.
Stars and a Wind- The Complete Trilogy Page 84