by HR Moore
She pulled Caspar into a hug, then Amari. Then she took Amari's arm and led her towards the thrones. 'Come with me, before my husband keeps you standing on the threshold another minute.'
Sofie, who, up close, Amari was surprised to see looked to be in her late forties, had long auburn hair, full of small plaits that cascaded down her back. She led them to the area of banquet table closest to the thrones, the inhabitants of the benches hastily clearing out.
Henrik and Sofie sat on one side, Caspar and Amari on the other. Henrik called for food and mead to be brought for their guests.
Amari wasn't particularly hungry, having finished off the Tibetan yoghurt with some fruit not long before landing, but she got the feeling that to refuse the Vikings' hospitality would be unwise.
They were offered spit-roasted pork straight from the hearth, flatbread, butter, salads foraged from the surrounding land, thin slices of raw salmon, cheeses, and an array of berries, honey, and skyr—a yoghurt-like Nordic specialty.
'You are, as always, most generous,' said Caspar, helping himself to a little of it all.
Amari helped herself too. The meat was juicy and delicious, complemented perfectly by the tart lemony flavor of the dock leaf salad. 'Oh my God, this tastes amazing,' she said. 'Caspar, you've got to try this.'
Once they'd eaten more than their fill, Sofie turned to business. 'You're here because of the Templars,' she said, looking shrewdly at Caspar, then Amari.
'Yes,' said Caspar. He told them of the Templar's antagonistic behavior, and the lies about the Pagans kidnapping Raina.
'They are a troublesome nation,' said Sofie, 'there is no doubt about that. And I don't believe these kidnapping charges for a second. But the Templars expanding their territories is not something we Vikings are overly concerned with.'
'It would make life more interesting if more nations took chances, eh?' said Henrik, laughing loudly.
'We're not scared of a fight,' said Sofie. 'In fact, I'd like one. The Gods know it's been too long, but then, fights now are so absurd. There's no fun in all the cloak-and-dagger bullshit. Manipulating stock markets, and influencing politicians, and spreading rumors.'
'Assassins came after us,' said Amari. 'It didn't feel very cloak and dagger to me.'
'But that's all a war can ever be now,' said Sofie, waving her hands. 'We could send our men and women into your nation to help protect you. And we could send them to America, to target the Templars, killing as assassins, quietly, with no honor. And all the while, Templars would attempt to do the same to us. Where's the fun? The thrill of lining up opposite your enemy on the battlefield? The war cries? The bloodlust? The euphoria of victory?'
'And what's in it for us?' asked Henrik.
'I'm assuming you have something in mind?' said Caspar.
'Now you mention it,' said Henrik, 'a member of our war council is in need of a wife. He's suggested Meredith would be a most suitable option.'
Amari nearly spat out her mead. Caspar smirked at her expression.
'I'm afraid you'll need to take that up with Meredith directly,' said Caspar.
'Not with Rose?' said Henrik.
'It's been a long time since any Pagan has been forced into a marriage; we don't sell our people. If Meredith wants to marry this Viking, and to live as Viking, the Pagans would support it, regardless of the significant loss to our nation. Equally, if she refuses the marriage, we won't force her.'
'Fucking moralistic creatures,' said Henrik, slamming down his mead. 'You'd turn down this alliance?'
'If we go to war and the Templars defeat the Pagans, who do you think will be next?' said Caspar, unfazed by Henrik's sudden aggression.
'They could go in any number of directions,' said Henrik.
'And leave a formidable force such as the Vikings at their backs?' said Caspar. 'I think not.'
Henrik made a noncommittal gesture with his head.
'The Pagans have no love of war,' Caspar went on, 'but if they continue to attack us, we'll have no choice. Your support could mean the difference between a swift, early victory, and a long, drawn-out disaster for us all.
'The Vikings are a warrior nation. Knowing you're on our side will sway many nations our way, especially the smaller ones. And there will come a time, if the Templars persist, where you'll have no choice but to pick a side. Will it be the Templars?'
Henrik growled.
'We will think on it,' said Sofie, placing a hand on Henrik's arm. 'Pagans and Vikings have been allies for many lifetimes. We despise the Templars. We will speak with our war council.'
'And I will speak with Meredith,' said Caspar. 'But I warn you, she isn't usually the marrying kind.'
Chapter 19
Henrik stood, downed his drink, and called for music. All eyes were upon him, the energy in the hall picking up, anticipation hanging in the air.
Henrik took Sofie by the hand, pulled her to her feet, then led her to the dance floor. They rampaged around the area in between the two banquet tables, cheered on by the whole room. Other couples joined in, until the space was one big mass of moving bodies. Henrik and Sofie eventually returned to where Amari and Caspar sat, though not, as Amari had assumed, to take a break, but to pull them up onto the dance floor too.
'Pagans don't sit idly by when there's dancing to be had!' boomed Henrik.
He twirled Amari so fast she lost all sense of direction. She couldn't help but laugh, filled with exhilaration; this was just what she needed after so long with the Buddhists.
They hurtled around the hall, narrowly missing other dancers as they looped and jumped. Henrik ignored her shrieks to put her down as he lifted and spun her.
By the time Caspar intervened, having to pry her away from Henrik, Amari was covered in sweat and breathing hard.
'This is a welcome change!' she shouted, as Caspar led her across the floor with gusto to match Henrik's.
'The Vikings are a more exuberant people than the Buddhists,' laughed Caspar. 'They've got a lot in common with us, given their ancestors followed pagan religions too.'
'Different ones, though?' asked Amari, pulling Caspar to the side so she could take a breather and have a drink.
'Yes. Our Pagan nation is a fusion of beliefs from many different groups. The ancient people of Scandinavia were similar—they had many small groups with varying beliefs.
'Eventually, the Vikings dominated with their Gods: Odin, Thor, and the rest, but that was an evolution, and even then, they didn't have a total monopoly. The Sami, for example, remained separate.'
'Sami?'
'The people indigenous to this area,' Caspar said. 'A few hundred years ago, the Vikings and the Scandinavian Sami demons merged into a single demon nation. So the nation we call Viking is, in fact, more than that.
'Under the Viking umbrella, there are different groups of demons practicing different religions. It's the same with most demon nations; we're mongrels. It's only the new ones, like the Templars, who are pure.'
'Does it cause problems, when people join together? What if the Vikings want to support a war, but the Sami don't?'
'It could cause problems, although nations don't generally air their dirty laundry, so it's hard to tell. Civil wars inside nations do sometimes pull alliances apart.'
'It's so complicated,' said Amari.
'Anything involving people is complicated,' said Caspar.
'Don't make me come over there and steal Amari again,' roared Henrik, swooping past with Sofie in his arms.
'Don't you dare,' cried Caspar. He drew Amari to him, then led her back into the melee.
They danced and drank and laughed for hours, until the revelers were thoroughly drunk and wildly raucous.
Caspar pulled Amari to him, kissing her. Her mind was foggy from all the mead, her instincts taking over, so she pressed up against him, kissing him back, not even thinking about where they were or who was watching.
All around them, couples were doing the same, some against the wooden struts supporting the hall
, some sitting at the banquet tables, some on the dance floor.
'Let's get out of here,' whispered Caspar.
Sofie appeared at their side. Evidently she and Henrik had had the same idea.
'See you at breakfast, my friends,' said Sofie. 'You're in the same hut as last time. Your bags are already there.'
'Thank you,' said Caspar.
Henrik and Sofie disappeared though a door behind their thrones. Caspar and Amari exited through the main door at the opposite end of the hall.
They emerged to find it as bright as day outside, although overcast. This far north, at this time of year, it didn't get dark at all. It was surreal.
Caspar wrapped an arm around Amari, pulling her tightly to his side, leading her along the meandering route to their small wooden hut down by the water.
It wasn't much to look at, and it wasn't much inside either, just one big open room with a small bathroom attached. But it had an enormous, inviting, fur-covered bed, with a pile of blankets folded at the base.
'Heaven,' said Amari, taking it all in. After sleeping alone on the floor, this was absolute luxury.
Caspar had barely shut the door before Amari hauled him to her, locking their mouths, tearing off his clothes. As soon as they were naked, she pushed him back onto the bed and straddled him, guiding him inside her, rocking against him.
He growled, his hands on her backside, grasping her skin, urging her faster. It was frantic, and frenzied, and they climaxed together, Amari collapsing forward, Caspar enveloping her in his arms.
Amari and Caspar woke to bright sunlight streaming in through the window. Their naked bodies were intertwined, Amari's head on Caspar's chest, legs wrapped together.
Amari pulled her head back, looking up at Caspar to see if he was awake. She found his sleepy eyes on hers.
'Hey,' he said. His gravelly tone made her stomach go tight.
'Hey,' she replied, running a hand over his toned torso, tracing each ridge. She tipped her head back, seeking Caspar's lips, and he lowered them to hers.
She let out a hum of pleasure; this was how she wished to wake up every morning. Caspar's kisses were deep but gentle, unhurried, as though they had all the time in the world. He rolled her onto her back, covering her with his body, and Amari arched to meet him.
'We've died and gone to heaven,' said Amari. She relished the feel of his skin, and weight, and kisses.
'That as may be,' he said, pulling back, 'but I've got something to show you, before everyone else is up and it gets crowded.'
Amari gave a pout of disappointment. 'What is it?'
He kissed her jaw, then stood. 'You'll see. Put on something you can run in; we can get some exercise on the way.'
They threw on their clothes and left the hut. Caspar set off at a jog along the road that hugged the waterfront. They soon reached the end, but kept going along an old, worn track, Amari marveling at the ocean on both sides as they ran along the headland.
They jogged across the tricky terrain, almost until they ran out of land. Caspar stopped and pulled her to a halt. 'This way,' he said, and headed down a tiny path over the side of the cliff.
'Okay,' said Amari, 'but seems a tad suicidal.'
'Trust me, it's worth it,' he said. 'Just watch your footing.'
They descended a few metres onto a ledge that led into a cave, hollowed out over the course of thousands of years by the wind and rain and sea. It was deep enough that Caspar had to pull out a small torch to illuminate the way.
The walls were covered with etchings that had been chiseled into the rock, then filled in with reddish paint. The etchings near the entrance had been destroyed by the weather, but the images at the back made Amari's jaw drop.
'Oh my goodness,' she said, her hand tracing a four-legged animal that looked kind of like a deer. 'This is … this is so exciting!'
Caspar watched as she took in the animals, people, boats, and symbols that adorned the walls. 'Petroglyphs going back hundreds of years,' he said.
'What's this one?' asked Amari, tracing a symbol with eight spokes, a series of smaller lines dissecting each spoke.
'That one's the Helm of Awe,' he said, cryptically. 'It's magical.'
'How so?'
'It provides protection and brings victory.'
She gave him a skeptical look.
'If invoked correctly. But most demons don't know how to wield magic anymore. The knowledge is being forgotten, made all but irrelevant by technology. Most of us can only manage small magics these days.'
'Seems strange,' said Amari, 'that people would forget something so … well … magical.'
'Magic, like everything, comes with a cost. Most aren't willing to pay it.'
'Can you do more than small magics?' asked Amari.
Caspar smirked. 'I can barely even manage that.'
'Could you once?'
'No. I was never interested in magic.'
'Why not?'
'It takes lifetimes to get anywhere, so most proficients will only agree to train someone if they're willing to dedicate at least three hundred years. And magic can be helpful, but it's not straightforward. A protection spell, for example, cast by a proficient, could halt the rain of arrows in a battle. But a protection spell cast by a neophyte—a beginner—might only direct the arrows away from the eyes of those being attacked.'
'The eyes?'
'Eyes are a window to the soul, and it's the soul that reincarnates. The way to kill a demon, so they never come back, involves destroying their eyes prior to death.'
'So directing arrows away from the eyes might still result in the demons dying, but it would protect them from final death?'
'Exactly. But in a battle, magic that causes arrows to move unpredictably can be more dangerous than no magic at all.'
'I see.'
'All magic is unpredictable, sometimes even for proficients … and adepts, although I don't know if any adepts still exist.
'Technology's often a better, more reliable option, so magic isn't as important anymore. Why communicate with someone via magic, when you can call them on a phone?'
'Do any demons still study magic?'
'Yes. I'd imagine every nation has some kind of magical contingent.'
'Did Raina have an interest in magic?'
'Not really. I think you dabbled in some lives before we met.'
'Is Talli a proficient? She was using magic at Midsummer, right?'
'She was using magic, but she's a long way from being a proficient. The Pagans only have two proficients currently, and they live together in Wales. They have a few neophytes training with them.'
'Anyone I've met?'
'They keep to themselves.'
'What about Rose? Does she use magic?'
'Rose was never inclined that way. Magic isn't just about learning; you need natural ability, and Rose has none.'
'It feels … different in here,' said Amari, 'from the way it felt outside.'
'There's a concentration of magic here. We're on a ley line, and the magic is particularly potent … maybe because demons have been performing rituals here for so long.'
'It's such a strange feeling,' she said, running her hand over the image of a long boat, the stone cool against her fingers.
Amari's eyes scanned the petroglyphs. They landed on the image of a man and a woman holding hands. A convulsion racked her body, and it became difficult to breathe.
'What is that?' she choked, pointing at the image.
Concern washed across Caspar's face. He followed the direction of her finger. 'That's us, after our Viking wedding,' he said, stepping to her side, putting a hand on her arm. 'What's happening?'
'Our Viking wedding?'
Something clicked in her mind; the same feeling she got when the pieces of a particularly difficult puzzle finally made sense.
'We've had a wedding in virtually every lifetime. Seven or maybe eight lifetimes ago, we got married in this very spot.'
'Here?'
The pressure
in her chest eased. She took a deep, cool breath. The tension that had held her rigid blew away on the salty sea breeze.
He nodded, relaxing. 'Our next wedding—the one we have in this lifetime—should be somewhere awe-inspiring. Somewhere with magic. Somewhere as far from a hotel ballroom as it is possible to be.'
She scowled and shoved him. 'It was a very nice hotel, I'll have you know.'
Caspar grabbed her hand. 'It was still a hotel.'
She gave him an indulgent eye roll, then kissed him, electricity sparking through her veins.
'Hang on, was that a marriage proposal?' she said, pulling back. 'You know we've been dating for about two minutes, right? That's kinda desperate.'
'Oh really? Desperate?'
Amari laughed, pecking him on the lips. 'Tragic, actually.'
'That hurt.'
'Ludicrous.'
'Now you're just plain mean.'
'But I suppose it's loveable.'
'You love me?'
'You know …' She paused, as though thinking hard. 'I think I do.'
They kissed again, slow and contented. 'I love you too,' he said, his hands on either side of her face.
Amari smiled. She covered one of his hands with hers, caressing his skin with her thumb.
'We should get back. We don't want to miss breakfast,' he said, kissing her one last time.
'You're right. I'm starving.'
Caspar broke away, heading for the entrance.
Amari reached out and placed her fingers on the petroglyph of the man and woman, of Raina and Caspar. And in that instant, the moment her skin touched the unforgiving stone, her whole world changed.
PART 2
Chapter 20
Amari dropped to the floor, her head hot, as though all the thoughts rubbing against her consciousness were causing friction burn. Endless images flashed before her eyes, endless thoughts filled her, endless songs, words, languages, faces, endless conflicting ideas and opinions.
In an instant, she knew how to play countless instruments, how to cook innumerable recipes, how to sew, and weave, and make pottery, and forge iron, and play politics, and she felt … different.