Lord of the Runes (19 page)

“Asa.” His voice was thick. “You must have felt the power of the runes flowing through you.”

Her hand dropped away from her mouth. “Yes.”

“I think you have abilities, like mine. To read them, carve them, know them. Would you be willing to learn? I could teach you, as my mother taught me.”

“I don't know. I never felt this way with our old master.”

He smiled. “Gods, I hope not. Asa, it's not just the runes. It's us as well. I think the gods sent me here, made me lose my way in the blizzard, so we could meet. I've helped others carve runes before. Believe me, it's never been like this for me either. There's something more between us. I have to believe it's destiny.”

She looked away from him, her hands clenched together. “I can't, Eirik. I can't be what you want.”

“And what do I want?” He brushed back her hair.

She lowered her eyes. “What all men do. I let you kiss me to see what it was like, just once in my life. But that's all it can be. I'm sorry. It wouldn't be fair to you any other way.”

“Why don't you let me decide what's fair to me? Asa, whatever lies in your past is something we can overcome. Together. But I need to know what it is.”

“No.” She shifted away from him, her eyes wide. “Magnus said I can't speak of it, can't even let it enter my mind. When you first touched me, I thought of it and it frightened me. Now, when I'm with you, the fear has faded. But it still waits within me. You even said it yourself when you spoke the ancient words. My rune is Eihwaz and with it, poison lies beneath.”

That's why she'd trembled. He took her hand. “I also said that it doesn't daunt the spirit. You're too strong to allow something that no longer exists to control you. If there's anything that lies in your past, you need to speak of it, whether it's to me or not. Don't let the poison fester inside you.”

“No.” She rose as her eyes filled, and he let her go. “I must never speak of it to anyone. Thank you for this night, for the rune and the kiss. I'll always remember it.” She bent down and kissed him, soft, light, then whirled and left.

He half stood, to go after her. But she was like a fleeing doe and his pursuit would make her run faster and farther. He let out a labored breath. This would take patience, and the gods knew he wasn't accustomed to that. Sela had accepted his suit without much comment, just a small nod. The women he'd sported with had been more than willing at a simple smile from him.

This was far different. It was everything. He didn't need the runes to tell him she was his other half. He'd scoffed at such things when his mother had spoken of it, but he'd been wrong. And it had cost Sela her life.

He rose, setting his hand on the top of the dragon's head. The power they had called still waited there, entwining Asa and him together like the lines on the interlaced pattern that curved beside the runes. Stroking downward, he ran his hand over the scales and traced the symbols.

He let his hand drop.

A noise interrupted his thoughts and he spun, looking toward the doorway. “Asa?” But it was empty. It must have been sounds coming from the people sleeping in the common room. He needed to sleep, as well. Tomorrow, he would begin chiseling the runes into the stone, then the story would be told, and never forgotten.

He made certain the small hearth fire was safe for the night, then doused the oil lamps around the workspace. As he lifted the last one, the light moved on the dragon's eye and it appeared to shift back toward him. How had Asa managed to achieve that much realism?

He lifted the lamp next to the eye, but it was the same as it ever was. Shaking his head, he covered it with the cloth. Then he put out the flame in the lamp, leaving the dragon in darkness.

* * *

He was supposed to keep
her
warm, not Asa.

Estrid peered out of the door of her sleeping chamber. Eirik made his way between the inert bodies on the floor in the common room. He went to his own room and shut the door. She leaned against the wall, hugging herself.

Asa had fallen in the lake. It shouldn't have happened that way, for she was just supposed to appear clumsy and unattractive. Instead, she'd gone into the icy water. If she hadn't called Eirik to her with her magic, she would have died. And then Estrid would have comforted him.

Yes. He would have turned to her because he had loved her before Asa lured him away with her beauty. But he had wrapped Asa in blankets, kept her warm and alive. And then Asa had cajoled him into the weaving room with her and she had wound her evil around him with the dragon's power. Not even his runes could prevent it.

He had just been in the room with her again, and even after she'd left, the dragon had held him in its grip, not allowing him to leave.

She'd gone to the door to watch him. He'd traced the runes, trying to free himself with their power that he commanded. He had caressed them as he should have caressed her, touching them in the same way he should have run his hand over her body. Finally, the runes had broken through the magic and he was free. Her own body had heated at the thought of what he could do with her, and she'd moaned. He'd heard her then and she'd left, not wanting the magic to harm her, as well. Then she wouldn't be able to help him, for she would also be caught in its web.

There was only one way to stop a spell. Only one way to free him and make him love her again. Only one way to go with him when he left here, and be with him forever. She clenched her fist until the nails cut into her palm.

The dragon had to die.

A
sa walked to the weaving room as Leif and many of the other warriors prepared to go back out for the day to patrol the area around Thorsfjell. There had been no signs of the outcasts since the skirmish. Rather than let them relax as time went on, the quiet made the men more alert. Unless the criminals moved from the area altogether, they would soon be back, foraging for food and supplies. Magnus had ordered all the farmsteads evacuated and stripped of anything that might be useful. It would either drive them away, or bring them here.

She stifled a yawn. Carving the final rune should have stopped the dreams, but she'd had so much trouble sleeping, she couldn't be certain. The vision she'd had while working on the dragon last night still wove through her mind. Everything else had faded away from her as she'd carved. Everything except the dragon. And Eirik.

A massive yew tree had spread out before her, its roots under her feet, its branches arching over her. Eirik had stood near the trunk. He'd pointed to the bark, and little by little, Eihwaz had appeared there, burning into the living tree. It'd formed in the way she should carve it, so she'd followed its pattern.

Ancient words had flowed around her while she'd worked and she'd breathed them in like the exotic perfume her father had once brought her mother from Miklagard. In the vision, Eirik had walked to her and bent his head and kissed her. It had drawn her through the mists, back into reality. Then he'd kissed her again.

She entered the weaving room and the women at the looms greeted her. Sitting down at her bench, she arranged her tools for the day. When he'd held her, she'd felt no fear of him. Was it the magic of the night, or could it happen again? And yet, it was a simple kiss, and he'd been gentle, not as men were when they—

As she set her hand on the cloth covering the dragon, she shuddered. One kiss would not tell the tale, and he would want so much more than that. If not now, then eventually. All men did.

She slid the cloth off the carving. Something was wrong, but for a moment, she didn't understand what it was. Then it hit her and she cried out.

Someone had gouged the left eye of the dragon. The knife was still embedded in the wood. It was as though the blade had been plunged into her heart. She jumped to her feet, knocking over the bench.

“What is it, Asa?” The other women came over from the looms and when they saw the damage, they gasped in shock. One ran from the room, calling for the jarl.

Magnus and several other men rushed into the room. “Asa, what's happened?” He caught her in his arms.

“The dragon, it's ruined.” Her eyes filled. “Why would someone do this? It was so beautiful. I won't have time to make another one before the spring. We won't have the gold we need for the year.”

Her stomach hurt. All those months of work, gone. It was her main contribution to the village to help buy their supplies and food. Now others would have to work harder to make up for it. She could carve smaller pieces, but all of them together wouldn't bring what the dragon would have. This one was her best yet. Even King Horik had shown interest in her work for his fine ships. Now she would have nothing to show him when they went to Hedeby.

Magnus bent to study it, his eyes hard. He placed his fingers to either side of the blade and slid it out of the wood. It came out without any further damage. “Is this one of your carving knives?”

She dried her eyes on the back of her hand. “No. I don't recognize it.”

“Then that's good. Perhaps someone will know who it belongs to.”

Their dragon was gone.
Their?
Somehow, she had begun thinking of it as both hers and Eirik's. Working with him on it had been so beautiful and magical, but now that was ruined forever.

Tears welled up again in her eyes and Magnus embraced her, holding her head to his wide chest. Those who gathered in the room murmured soothing words to her. Their encouragement heartened her and she dashed her tears again. She had to get herself under control.
Think
.

“Come sit with me.” Magnus set the bench upright and urged her down next to him. “There are piles of wood dust on the floor here from your sanding. Is there anything you can mix with it to make a paste that you can put into the eye? Then when it's dried and hard, you can carve it anew.”

“I don't know.” Her mind was in a fog, shock still spreading through her. Why would this happen? It not only hurt her, it hurt everyone.

“Asa?”

She turned back to Magnus. “Perhaps if I mixed the wood dust with some stag antler glue, and filled the damage, it would harden, as you said. But it would never be right.”

“You're going to paint this, aren't you?” At her nod, he said, “Then the repair will be covered and no one will ever know. It will be as beautiful as ever, just like you.”

She forced herself to smile at him. He smoothed her hair, then took the knife and left, yelling for Arne. The people spoke comforting words to her before they, too, left to go about their day, but she barely heard them.

Just like you
. Six years ago, Magnus had tried to fix the damage done to her. She'd buried it deep, painted it over with bright colors and pretty gilding. No one knew. But she did. The scars lay under the pretty coating of her smile and the glinting edge of her weapon-skill, threatening to crack the exterior and reveal the shame within. The rips and tears would never heal, and never let her love.

Her sword-skill was not born of any desire to win word-fame and find glory in the skald's tales, or even to dwell one day with Freya in Folkvang. It was born of soul-shrinking hatred, anger, and the need for revenge. The wound within her had spread, like decay, until it was all she was. She could repair the dragon's eye, and paint over the damage. But who could say the ocean wouldn't permeate the paint and rot the interior? No one would notice it because it was covered. But one day, it would fall apart and the rot would be revealed, because beneath the surface beauty, it was damaged.

Just like her.

* * *

The front door slammed and heavy footsteps came toward the weaving room. She sighed. What was this? Hedeby, the crossroads of Scandinavia?

All she wanted to do was sand and polish the rune she'd carved last night. Her nerves wouldn't allow her to try to repair the eye yet, though Magnus had ordered glue brought to her earlier that afternoon.

“By the gods.”

She looked up at Eirik. His face was stormy and he radiated anger as he touched the damaged eye. “Oh, Asa.” His tight voice shook. “I heard the stable hands talking. I had to come and see it for myself.”

“I found the damage this morning when I uncovered it. The knife was still in it.” Her voice hitched and he looked at her, his expression dark.

“Do you have the knife?”

“No. Magnus took it. We didn't recognize it.”

“I stayed in here for a short time after you left last night, but it was just to make certain everything was well with the rune you'd carved. I prepared the fire for the night and covered the dragon, as I've seen you do. I doused the lamps, and went to bed. Everyone was asleep that I saw.”

“I can repair it, I think. I have to try, at least.”

“Of course. I have no doubt that you will.” He sat on the bench beside her. “Now, if you carve in stone, as I do, that's another matter. One wrong move and the stone could crumble, and there's no repairing that. Wood is a bit more forgiving.”

“I hope so. I've repaired breaks before, but never anything like this.” She pressed her hand to the back of the dragon's neck. “It's as though someone cut into me, like I was violated.”

He put his arms around her from behind and drew her back to his chest. His warm breath played in her hair and his strong arms rested around the front of her shoulders. “If there is ever anything I can do to help you, please know that I am here.”

She should move away from him, both for her own sake and because anyone might come in on them. But she didn't. Safe. She was safe now, from anyone who would harm her. All her doubts fell away, about whether or not she could repair the dragon and about what she was coming to feel for Eirik. He haunted her thoughts. She always looked for him in the common room to see if he was there during the two meals of the day. His strength and confidence drew her to him. Though they should have repelled her, they made her feel safe when she was near him.

That truth tore open the wounds within her. She leaned forward and he freed her. “I was going to carve the other rune today, but I don't think I can. It's as though something evil has touched it.”

“Perhaps. But the symbols that are on it now will help dispel that. Let the magic work, Asa.” Turning her to face him, he cupped her cheek with one hand. “Give it time and all things will be as they should be.”

She nodded. Did he speak only of the magic, or of what lay between them? The depth of his voice seeped into her, moving something deep within. He gave her a gentle kiss, then stood. “If you think you need help with the rune on the other side, you have but to ask.”

After he left, she studied the dragon's eye. Perhaps it wasn't quite as hopeless as she had first thought. She smiled, and certainty filled her. She'd made it, so she
could
repair it, and it would be beautiful and whole once again, worthy of a king's longship. And perhaps, she could become worthy of a man like Eirik. Did his magic let her see this? Could it help her heal, as well?

Only when she'd completed the carving and the painting would she be able to tell if she'd been successful. If she was careful and worked with great skill, there was no reason to think it wouldn't hold up forever, even in the roughest seas. But by the time she finished it, spring would have come to the coastal lands and Eirik would be leaving.

Someone had attacked her through the dragon, and because of that, they'd threatened Thorsfjell. The need to defend herself, the urge to fight for those she cared about, and the determination to never surrender and accept defeat—these were things she could understand. If she thought of it as she thought of warfare, she would be in her own world. And there, few could stand against her.

She picked up a piece of shark's skin and sanded Eihwaz. As the dragon healed, so would she. They both had been dealt a harsh blow, a terrible wound, but they would heal each other. The magic she'd felt before welled up inside her and she allowed it. A strength she hadn't felt for a long time grew in her, shoring up her mind and her heart. She could do this.

She would become like the dragon.

* * *

The rune stone was almost finished. It needed a few small touches, then people would read Jarl Sigrund's story for ages after this.

Eirik chipped at a rune, defining its edge. He should have already completed the stone, but he'd been distracted by what had happened to the dragon carving four weeks ago. For a few days after that, he hadn't been able to concentrate so, rather than make a mistake, he'd taken out his anger by going on patrol and training with the other men.

Asa had attacked the carving with new purpose, reshaping the eye until it was as it had been before. She'd begun painting it first, as though to cover the memory of what someone had done to it. Then she'd painted the rest of the dragon in browns, black, and green. She'd asked him about the proper colors for the runes and he'd advised her, but other than that, he'd left her alone with her work.

She seemed driven to work on it, almost defiant. Magnus posted men night and day to watch for any signs of trouble both in the village and in the longhouse, but nothing more had happened. She'd continued her work without incident and now she had almost completed it.

They would both finish their work, the dragon and the rune stone, at the same time. The winter was coming to an end. It would continue here in the
fjells
for some weeks or months yet, but near the coast, the warmth from the southern currents would soon carry spring with them. The storms would lessen and the ships would take to the sea again. And Rorik would leave to go raiding.

He needed to get to Trøndelag before that. He'd have to leave soon, even before the snows ended here. At times he'd used the runes to reach out to his sister. But was the warm assurance in his mind real? Or was it his own wishful imagination? His mother and sister were strong, but were they strong enough to withstand a winter with those bastards who had taken Haardvik?

He had to speak with Magnus and tell him of the possible threat to him from those outcasts. They'd said they would head this way in the spring to reap revenge on someone in this part of Norway. They might stumble across this place, as he had.

Or had he? He still couldn't give up the thought that the gods had brought him here for a reason. Was it because of Asa? Or was it something else altogether? An alliance between Magnus and him would benefit both of them, and, of course, there was a very pleasant way to cement that alliance.

He stretched and left the building. He hadn't eaten since the morning, and though they ate only two meals each day, it was midday and he could use some ale to tide him over.

He'd just sat down with Leif in the common room with a full mug when the front door burst open and Birgitta and Sjurd ran in. They were out of breath, their eyes wide.

“Outcasts,” Sjurd said between breaths. “Up on the ridge. We saw them coming this way.”

Magnus strode over to them. Leif and all the men gathered around and Eirik stood with them to listen. His blood raced and many of the warriors grinned. All of them were anticipating a good fight after waiting so long. Asa came to the door of the weaving room, a painting brush in her hand. She glanced at him and he gave her a slight smile.