“Shhhh, Erlund! She’ll hear us.”
“She’s as deaf as my shoe.”
“But she knows things anyway.”
Erlund took her hand between both of his. “Elidyr, say that you’ll meet me by the tower when your lesson is done.”
“I’ll meet you by the tower when my lesson is done.”
Erlund’s young face looked suddenly younger. “Will you?”
Elidyr laughed. “Of course, I will.” Her lips found his. Urgency flared between them, and their kiss became an embrace.
* * *
Sorceress Olga smoothed her linen apron -- none too clean -- with ancient fingers. “Elidyr, you’re late.”
Elidyr looked at her toes.
“It seems a long age from now, but you will share next winter’s fire with your Erlund.” Olga patted her best pupil’s smooth hand. “You won’t have to steal kisses behind the tower -- or behind my barn!”
Elidyr blushed.
Olga laughed salaciously at memories that -- Elidyr knew -- she was all too willing to share. “And the winter after that you’ll have a fat baby in your arms!”
Elidyr’s blush deepened.
Olga’s thin lips drew together. “We made a great store of salmon last year and crops were good here, though poor in the lowlands. They’ll be hungry down there now.”
Elidyr’s throat tightened. “Will raiders come, Grandmother Olga?”
“Oh, they’d like to rob us, but don’t fear, child. Our mountains guard us. There is only one road through one pass to the lowlands. Our men guard the watch points as the snows draw back. Raiders won’t surprise us, and our fortress will hold firm if they attack.” Olga squeezed her hand.
Elidyr looked into the old woman’s eyes. “Yes, Grandmother.”
“It is time for other work, dear. Tomorrow, before dawn, you must climb to the high meadows and search for berries -- Sigrun’s Nipples. You know how important they are.”
“I do.”
“Nipples should be picked when they are not quite scarlet, when they only hold a touch of orange flame. The berries are perfect then. They are potent, but not too much so. Climb to the toes of the highest crags. Search in shadows at the edge of ice. There you will find perfect nipples.”
* * *
Elidyr’s leather bag bulged with nearly ripe berries. She had arrived at the glacier’s edge at dawn and worked until noon before taking the hidden path home. She stood before her teacher now, but Grandmother Olga offered her no praise.
Olga was pinned to bare earth by a Viking spear through her chest. Her eyes and mouth made symmetrical circles of surprise.
“Are you a virgin?”
Elidyr’s heart froze and then thudded with terror.
“You’re young enough to be one, but I doubt any of you mountain girls are.”
Elidyr could not speak, could not breathe, could not move, but she looked up.
A tall warrior, war ax in hand, stood watching her. He wore a conical helm, its broad nosepiece and supporting bands of metal across the cheeks creating a sinister mask. Pale eyes glinted from within the mask’s shadow.
“I’m Rolf.”
Rolf’s bloody fingers gripped her shoulder. “We shall find out about your virginity, won’t we?”
* * *
Rolf moved out of shadow and stood in silence before a half circle of faces. Every warrior in the captured town waited for his words. A low fire flickered behind him. He turned his head slowly and his long hair shone flame-gold.
At last, he spoke, “We climbed pale cliffs by moonlight -- cliffs no man had climbed before. We attacked their fortress at dawn and took it. The town was close, but a last rampart of stones and logs blocked our path. Bowmen manned the rampart and fired into our rush. Fafnir fell with an arrow through his throat and Knutr took an arrow in his right eye. Ragnar -- ” Rolf turned and gestured to the tall pile of oil-soaked logs to his side on which Ragnar’s body now lay. “A war arrow bit deep into Ragnar’s thigh. He staggered, but he broke the arrow off short and ran on. He leapt atop the rampart and sliced his blood-drinker through the throat of the bowman who’d shot him. Then his sword drank the lives of two more bowmen, one to either side. Others rose up and hewed him with axes, but he gave back stroke for stroke. We reached him as his life’s blood poured down the rampart.” Rolf paused.
Only crackling flames broke the silence around the fire. Rolf’s mouth was a grim line. He made a fist of his right hand. “We gathered loot, but we have no need of slaves from this place. All will die.”
The warriors roared and beat sticks on the ground. Some shouted “Ragnar!” and some shouted “Rolf;” some just screamed.
Rolf plucked a torch from the fire behind him and stepped to the tall funeral pyre. He raised the torch high. “A Viking carries his sword to Valhalla this night!” He thrust the torch deep among the logs. Flames leapt up.
Ragnar, sword upon his breast, lay at the center of the swelling, red-gold flames. Sparks rose past him to the stars.
* * *
“We were warned against the witch woman. I had Hafgrim spear her straight away.”
Rolf said nothing but raised his drinking horn and swallowed.
Viking laughter, stones, and ax blades of it, sounded in the near distance. “Should we post camp guards?”
Rolf spat. “This mead is thin as a crone’s thighs.” He looked at Leikr. “We killed all of the men?”
“All we could find.”
“There is no need for guards.”
“Rolf, the women could be a danger.”
Rolf grinned. “The women will be busy.”
“But they have magic! How else do you explain their store of dried salmon? It’s huge!”
“It’s what we came for.” Rolf motioned to Elidyr, who stood nearby holding a stone pitcher. “Pour me more of this bitter mead, girl.” Elidyr stepped forward and poured.
Leikr continued, “Shouldn’t we find out how they do it?”
“Bah! They had luck last year. We didn’t. These people are as weak as their mead! What did we get for our trouble? A few silver coins, a few good crystals and fish.”
“We need the fish.”
“We’ve got it.”
“We may need fish next year and this place will be gone.”
“There are others.”
Leikr paused, watched blue flames lick embers in the room’s small hearth. “Stories of the old woman’s powers spread as far as Nordheim. There may be something to them.”
Rolf drank. “The girl I took is her acolyte. She cried like any other.”
* * *
Rolf’s eyes opened wide.
Elidyr stood naked before him, firelight turning her long hair to molten copper. She spread her arms wide and smiled at him, though her eyes were ice, green and hard.
“Would you have me again, Viking?”
Rolf’s lips quivered, but he did not answer.
Arms still raised, she turned sideways to him, her body slender and vibrant as a spring reed. “This is how I hoped I would come to my beloved, but Erlund is dead. I bathed blood from his wounds, wounds you gave him.”
She dropped her arms. “You don’t reach for me? I forgot. I’m not a virgin now, am I?”
She stepped close to him and he smelled her scent -- a blend of sweet herbs and sweat.
“Your men are dead.”
Rolf’s eyelids fluttered.
“Birla used her brother’s hand ax. Dora took up the round stone she uses for pounding washing. Geirdis chose a sharp stick, one that had been hardened in the fire, good for piercing eyes. Eja, Aldrif, Luta and the others -- they used whatever came to hand, knives, and bone needles, mostly.”
Elidyr stepped behind him. Rolf followed her with his eyes, but could not turn his head.
“Your man, Leikr -- he wondered how we harvest salmon. He was right to wonder. We take many fish, but not females and not the strongest. There are certain shallow pools in certain streams. We divert the fish to them.” She stepped in front of Rolf and held up a scarlet berry. “Then we stun them with this.”
Rolf stared at the berry.
“Sigrun’s nipple, very poisonous. A certain number crushed and mixed into a pool allows us to gather the fish.” Elydyr smiled. “A certain number crushed in mead allowed us to gather you.”
Rolf had feared little in his life, but he feared now. A drop of sweat trickled down the line of his jaw.
“Our magic is suited to these mountains. It is slow and nurtures both my people and the land. At need, it protects us -- as you will now discover.
Elidyr held up a blade of volcanic glass, black as midnight. Firelight glittered on its transparent edge. She pressed the blade’s silken flat against Rolf’s cheek below his right eye. His eyelid twitched at its cold touch, at its colder promise.
“Of course, the berries’ poison wears off after a few hours,” she whispered, “but we have time.”
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