Lord of the Runes (3 page)

He set his jaw. It would
not
be in vain.

He turned the horse to the east, where tomorrow, the new day would begin.

 

I
t had been too many days since she'd had the weight of her sword in her hand.

Asa Sigrundsdottir hefted her blade, smiling as she faced her brother, the jarl Magnus. The blizzard had stopped them from training outside, but as always through the freezing months, they pushed back the tables and made room in the hall. It didn't pay to become weak over the winter.

“Don't trust that smile, brother.” Magnus's twin, Leif, leaned back on the bench where he watched them. He shifted his dark hair behind his broad shoulders. “It never bodes well.”

“And I don't know that?” Magnus circled her and she danced away as though she retreated. Then she pivoted, striking his blade. It spun out of his hand and hit the floor.

They both stared at it. Magnus appeared as shocked as she was, but she straightened as though it had been her intent all along. She rested her sword's tip on the ground in front of her, meeting his blue eyes.

“Now, finally, she's bested you.” Leif chuckled as he raised his mug of ale to her. “Though it may make finding her a husband more difficult. Come to think of it, her cooking will make that impossible. Once a suitor tastes it, he'll spit it out and she'll run him through. Like the shieldmaiden who stabbed her husband because he said she was too warlike.”

“Ah,” she said. “A woman after my own heart.”

“No.” Magnus picked up his sword and flipped it from hand to hand. “A woman after her
husband's
heart. With her blade.”

“
If
I wanted a husband, having you two hulking brothers always challenging any suitors would make that impossible.”

Magnus narrowed his eyes. “If they can't survive us, they don't deserve you.”

“You mean if they can't survive us, they'll never survive her.” Leif took a swig of ale as the other men who sat watching them chuckled. “We're just doing them a favor, weeding out the weak ones. And they're all weak.” As always, his eyes twinkled as he teased her.

She smiled at him, love welling up in her. Though both her brothers tried to keep her laughing, Leif was the best at it, for he saw the world through his easy, light nature. Magnus had had the weight of their people on his shoulders ever since he'd inherited the jarlship when they were all still quite young. Few people could tell the brothers apart, but the humor in Leif's eyes always made it easy for those who knew them.

“You're the one who thought it a good idea to teach her to defend herself, Magnus.” Leif shrugged. “This is what you get. In any case, with her being a shieldmaiden, it spares the looms, and the men, her temper. And her cooking.”

“I never thought she would take to weapons so well.” He grimaced.

“Or be better than you.” She laughed.

Leif drained his ale. “She's got you there, brother.”

“It's the only way she'll get me from now on. I'll be watching for that trick.” He raised his sword. “Again, Asa.”

Before she could engage him, the great front door opened on a blast of frigid air. Two villagers staggered in, bearing a man wrapped in snow-drenched furs.

“Jarl, his horse came in from over the peak of the mountain, probably from the south, and he was passed out on its back. He's nearly frozen to death, barely alive.”

“
Over
the mountain?” Magnus set his sword on a table. “Take him to my chair by the long fire. And get those wet furs off of him. Where's Estrid?”

“I'm here, Magnus. I'll order hot water for his hands and feet, and broth to warm him from the inside.” She hurried off to the cooking room, her white-blond hair glowing in the dim firelight.

Asa sighed in relief. Their cousin could take care of him and she wouldn't have to have anything to do with him. She stayed where she was, across the room, but her heart pounded. They were so isolated here. How had he even found this place? A traveler in this weather, a stranger, would have to stay here, perhaps for weeks. They couldn't turn him away.

Two servant girls stripped off his soaked furs and cloak. He leaned back in the chair, barely conscious, his eyes half-closed. His long blond hair hung unwashed down his broad chest, but his clothes were finely made.

No one had built up the fire. He would need heat. She couldn't let her fear hold her back from doing something to help him. The servants were getting fresh furs, taking off his shoes and bringing in the bags that must have been on his horse. Others carried in bowls of warm water to ease the cold from his hands and feet.

As she laid her sword aside, the confidence it gave her fled and her legs grew weak. She stayed on the opposite side of the fire from the stranger and threw several more logs onto it. As sister of the jarl, it should fall to her to take control, seeing to his comfort. But she couldn't bring herself to come too near to any man. They never had visitors here, except the traders her brothers did business with. And she had always remained out of sight of them.

But she was a shieldmaiden, was she not? She'd fought beside her brothers in past summers when they were attacked while traveling to the markets in the south. She could do this.

She glanced at the stranger as she arranged the logs in the fire. His blue eyes were glazed. Yet he watched her and she couldn't look away. The servants set his feet in the buckets of warm water, but he didn't react.

“Sela?” His voice, so deep, was weak. “Have I traveled so far? Too far to ever return?”

“Here's broth.” Estrid set the bowl next to him and picked up the horn spoon in it.

At her words, Asa broke free of his gaze. Let Estrid deal with him. Being around men was what she did best.

“No.” He took his hand from the water and pushed Estrid away as she tried to feed him. “I don't know you. Any of you. I'll have only her.” He looked at Asa. “Sela.”

“He isn't thinking well because of the cold.” Magnus stood beside her. “He thinks you're someone else.”

“Give him time.” Her knees melted like the ice in his hair. “He'll accept help when his reason returns.”

“That may be some while. Perhaps days. We don't have the time if we're to save him.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “Try. See if he'll take the broth from you. We'll be right here. You know that.”

Leif stood behind the stranger, his powerful arms crossed, and nodded.

Sighing, she firmed her resolve. Her brothers wouldn't let anything happen to her. Magnus squeezed her shoulders, then let his arm drop.

She moved around the longhearth toward the traveler, ignoring Estrid's smirk. After she took the bowl of broth from her, she sat beside him so he could see her. He frowned, but didn't move. Her hand shook. She had to do this. His life was more important than her foolish fears.

“You need to eat, but you're too cold. Let me help you.”

He raised the hand he'd used to push Estrid away. Leif and Magnus moved closer, but he only touched her thick braid where it had fallen forward. “Red, like a flame. How I have missed its softness in the night, my wife.”

Magnus raised his brows, but Leif grinned. “Someone else indeed. May he not miss more than just her hair.”

She shot Leif a glare and scooped up a small amount of broth. The traveler sipped it. Not meeting his gaze, she fed him until his eyes closed and he slumped forward, exhausted. She stood up and backed away, taking a deep breath.

Servants spread furs next to the fire and helped him lie down. His breathing deepened, steadying as they covered him.

“We've done all we can for now. Thank you, Asa.” Magnus kissed her on the forehead. He and Leif crossed to their table and their waiting ale.

Estrid took the bowl and looked down at him. “He's well made. Not that such things matter to you, cousin.”

“Such things matter to you too much, Estrid. Leave him be. He won't stay any longer than he needs to and he's already married.”

“So? A man may have more than one wife. Though I can see how, being the sister of a jarl, you wouldn't lower yourself to accept that.”

“And you would lower yourself to accept anything, as long as you had a man.” She walked away and joined her brothers.

Magnus glanced at him. “He's not going anywhere for a time.”

“Nor for the rest of the winter, I'd say.” Leif shrugged.

“Magnus.” The snows might trap the stranger here, but they would trap her as well. The cold forced them all into close quarters, and she wouldn't be able to avoid him.

“What would you have me do, Asa?” His voice was soft but firm. “Turn him back out in the blizzard? I don't know why he was in this area at such a time, unless he was lost, or how he survived this far. But the winter has set in now.”

Her cheeks heated. Of course, Magnus was right. He couldn't risk a man's death because of her. Welcoming travelers and providing aid was the one unalterable responsibility they all bore.

She'd always used their isolation as a shield against the outside world, but now, that shield had been breached. This was beyond her control, an invasion into her own realm. Everyone here knew her, the way she was. Her brothers' men, the thralls and servants, the men of the village—she knew them all, had known them all her life. She trusted them.

When she'd gone with her brothers to the markets of Kaupang, Birka, and Hedeby, their warriors had surrounded her, keeping all others from her. She'd traveled, yes, but on her own terms. And with her own sword.

But this man wasn't one of them, just as
he
—her attacker—hadn't been one of them. With a surge of anger, she drove the thought of
him
from her mind, as she always did, as Magnus had said she must.

“I'll talk to him when he regains his mind,” Magnus said. “We'll see where that leads us. But if he sickens, you may have to see to him for a time. He might not trust anyone else.” He studied her.

Her stomach dropped and she swallowed. “I will. I know my obligations to all who pass this way.”

“His care won't involve looms, needles, or cooking pots, so you should do all right.” Leif gave her a soft smile. “He thinks you're his wife. He misses her, wherever she is. I think his love will keep you safe.”

A chill crept up her back at his words and she glanced to where the man slept. He lay still, his face turned toward the fire. The glow played across his fine, high cheekbones and straight nose. He was no longer so pale. Now that his hair was drying, it had become a lighter, richer gold, but his brows remained a bit darker. His mouth, though, even in sleep, held a touch of grimness, as though he'd seen much of the world and the brutality it held.

As she watched him, a warmth spread through her body from deep within, and the muscles in her thighs relaxed. What was that? She shifted on the bench. It had never happened to her before. Uneasy, she looked away from him.

Magnus watched, as always, concern plain in his eyes. She forced herself to smile.

“I'll be fine. Right now, he poses no danger, and once he's well, I'll return to my work and not have to cross him again.”

A serving girl approached the table, two small bags in her hands. “Jarl Magnus?”

“Yes, Birgitta? What is it?”

“We went through his bags to dry his things. We found clothes, a fine sword, and this pouch.” She set it on the table. It clinked like coins. “And this.” She handed Magnus a small leather sack.

It was of unmarred deerskin. A skilled hand had sewn gemstones and gold charms onto it, and it was closed with a silk cord. Such material must have come from beyond distant Miklagard. Only a man of great wealth could possess such a bag.

He pulled open the drawstring, looked inside, and his eyes widened. “Runes. He carries a magnificent set of runes.” He tilted the bag so they could see into it.

They were beautiful, carved of oak, intricate and painted in brilliant colors. Many men carried a crude set and could read them well enough to know what the next battle held for them. But this was no common set. Only a rune master could have runes of such beauty.

“He carried no staff.” Asa leaned back, away from them. “They always do that. Even our old rune master carried one until the day he died.”

“He might have lost it in the storm.” Magnus drew the bag back to him.

“Close it,” Leif said. “No one but he must touch them.”

“I know.” Magnus retied the bag and set it on the table between them.

They all stared at it. This changed everything. It was more imperative than ever that he survive. If they let any harm come to him, it might unleash the anger of the gods against them. Those who read the runes were especially blessed and they held powers no one else could understand. She glanced at the sleeping traveler.

Now, not only his welfare was at stake, but the welfare of them all.

* * *

Wrapped in a shawl, Asa stepped into the common room. It was quiet and dark, except for the light from the dying flames in the longhearth. The servants would never allow it to go out completely, but they were asleep and there was no sense in rousing them. Their day would start soon enough.

Her brothers had sought their own beds some hours before. Many of the warriors who had remained at the village for the winter slept on the benches pushed up against the walls in the hall. She wasn't alone.

She hadn't been able to sleep. Her small chamber had grown so cold, and thoughts of the traveler had continued to roam through her mind. Could he truly be a rune master? What would happen to them if he died?