Empty Altars (16 page)

"We can't go like this." Inga looked down at herself. "Jorunda will be there."

Freya grimaced at the streaks of dirt on her once glittering gown. "There's a stream in the woods. It's not far from the farmhouse. Once we've salted the property, I'm washing off there."

"Our clothes?" Inga pulled at her soggy dress.

"We'll rinse them in the stream, and I'll summon a wind to blow them dry," Diana said. She felt like the odd girl out, dressed in her summer, tunic top and snug jeans. Perfect for New York. Not so trendy in a Norse meadow. Tyr, she'd noticed, appreciated how the jeans fit her, though. Gowns didn't have the same appeal.

Mollified, Inga pushed the last of the salt onto her cloth and hefted it onto her shoulder. Diana followed suit.

They went to the last farm and circled the entire area—even the pastures. Heid and her coven couldn't get near the family's longhouse, and from this distance, even if the witches worked together, the cat talismans should protect them. By the time the last grain of salt fell, Diana's muscles ached more than they had in years. By morning, she'd be restored—one of the perks of being a goddess, but at the moment, she tried not to walk like a hunchback and snarl at anything that moved.

Freya led them to the stream and immediately stripped out of her clothes. She tossed them in the shallow water near the bank and plunged into the cool waters. To hell with modesty, Diana decided. She smelled like a pig farm and was slicked in sweat. She flung her matching bra and panties on a rock and waded in. Inga fretted until Freya flicked water at her and called, "Do you really want to stink when you see Jorunda?" That was all the motivation the girl needed. Inga untied the ribbons of her dress and let it drop.

They splashed in the water, enjoying themselves. Diana's shoulders eased, her muscles relaxed. The sweat washed away. She walked toward the center of the stream, chest high, and let the stream flow past her. Its waters gurgled over nearby rocks. Tree branches swayed far above her. Then a breeze sprang up, tugging at her hair. It spiked the placid water. It whipped around Diana's head and pushed on her shoulders. The wind whispered warnings. "Get out!" it blew. "Leave the stream. Now!"

Diana snapped to attention. "Inga! Freya! Get to the bank."

Freya ran from the water and threw on her wet tunic. Diana was right behind her. Inga struggled behind.

"Come on!" Diana called. "Something's not right."

The depths of the stream churned. Great Zeus! What was down there?

Inga pushed toward shallow water, but something held her. "I can't." She gasped as a supple, green vine rose from the stream bed and circled her shoulders. It pulled to drag her under. Inga fought to keep her footing. Another vine wrapped itself around her elbow. "Help me!" The vines yanked, and she disappeared under the surface.

Diana and Freya splashed to her. Each took an arm and hauled her up. Inga sucked in air. The vines jerked her under once more. Freya jerked her back up. It became a tug of war. Diana drew her knife. She hacked at the stems.

The vines retreated underwater. They tried to take Inga with them. Freya and Diana tore at them to release her. They grew faster. They twined around Inga's ankles. A green shoot reached for Freya's throat. Diana gripped it and shot it with energy. It withered and died.

"Kill them all!" Freya cried.

"I can't shoot energy into water. It'll go everywhere."

"It has my leg!" Freya went under too.

Diana grabbed her. She pulled, but the vine held Freya tight. Her friend blinked up at her, smiled underwater, then changed into a snapping turtle. Seidr magic. And a good thing. She bit at the vine.

Freya was safe. Diana spun to find Inga. A vine stretched toward her. It wouldn't dare! It touched her and quickly retreated. Where was Inga? Diana saw dark strands of hair fan in the water. The vines pinned Inga's arms to her side. They circled her neck and legs. Inga struggled to free herself, but she'd never make it.

Think!
Diana told herself,
or Inga will drown
.

Inga's lips opened in a cry for help. Bubbles rose to the surface.
What could she do?
A huntress doesn't panic, Diana reminded herself. And then it came to her. She dove, gouged her fingers in the bottom of the stream bed, and muttered a chant.

The earth rolled beneath her hands. It lunged upward, taking them with it. Once above water, Diana grabbed at vines. She shot energy into them. The pale green shoots withered as the white, hot heat traveled through them.

Freya wriggled free, then returned to her womanly shape. She and Diana ripped dead vines off Inga. Inga turned on her side, coughing and sputtering. Water gushed from her mouth. She groaned and flopped on her stomach.

Freya dropped onto her knees. She shook her head and tried to focus. "I'm still tingling," she said.

"Tingling?" Diana expected Freya's throat to be raw, her lungs to burn…did turtles have lungs? But
tingling
?

"Your energy. Thank Woden it stayed in the vines, but I could feel it move through them." Freya rubbed her arms. "I wouldn't want the full effect of that." She turned to Inga and slapped her on the back.

More water whooshed from the girl. Inga choked and spewed until she went limp. She took deep breaths.

"Are you going to be all right?" Diana asked.

"I think so." Inga's voice hurt Diana's ears. The girl balled herself into a fetal position. "I want my dress."

Diana fetched it. If clothing helped her feel secure, why not? Diana held out a hand, and when Inga struggled to her feet, a cry made them all turn in unison.

"No!" A woman stepped from behind a nearby tree. She shot energy at Inga.

Diana caught the white, hot ball, strong enough to kill the girl. She held it in her hand, then threw it upward at the tree branches.

"You missed," the young witch mocked.

"Did I?"

A branch snapped and crashed to the ground, pinning the girl beneath it. She tried to push herself up, but Diana's chant glued her where she was. "You stay with Inga," Diana told Freya. "I'll check this out." Diana pulled on her wet clothes and stalked toward her.

The girl was young with honey-gold hair and pouty lips. She spat at Diana. "Do what you want with me! If I die, I'll sit with Hel in her mansion until the time of Ragnarok, and then I'll battle by Heid's side."

Diana shook her head. "Do you people always dream of warfare? You're mortal. I can tell that much. And I'd guess you're a peasant. Your clothing's no better than Inga's."

Inga tightened the laces of her dress a little too forcefully. She glared at Diana.

Diana would have to apologize for that remark later—and get the girl something new to wear. "Do you know this human?" she called to her. "She's anxious to kill you."

Inga scrambled toward them. She stopped abruptly and stared. "Vigdis?" Her voice sounded like sandpaper. She put a hand to her throat and winced when she swallowed.

Freya tugged at the girdle she cinched around her waist. Then she, too, came to join them. She stopped when she saw the girl. "Oh, Vigdis." Sympathy filled her voice.

"Who's Vigdis?" Diana demanded.

"Snorri's daughter," Inga rasped. She bit her bottom lip. "Why? Why would you try to kill me?"

"You work with
them
now." Vigdis nodded toward the goddesses. "I hate them both. They destroyed my life."

"How?" Inga spread her hands in bewilderment.

Freya looked at Vigdis with understanding. "Your mother asked for a beautiful daughter, and I granted her wish. Your beauty has cursed you, hasn't it?"

"Don't talk of my mother!" Tears misted the girl's eyes and she angrily blinked them away.

Diana took a quick breath. Snorri's daughter worked in Griswold's kitchens. Damn the chieftain! The girl's large, blue eyes put cornflowers to shame. Her lips were a natural rose-pink. Curves pressed against the thin fabric of her dress. She might look like a temptress, but she was inexperienced.

"You led my father to Griswold and let him kill him!" Vigdis struggled against Diana's binding spell, trying to free herself.

"Your father strangled Gudrun."

"That was Griswold's fault."

Diana tilted her head, interested. She freed the young witch's body from the spell, only keeping her hands bound in front of her. "You blame the chieftain? Why?"

Vigdis sat up. She tucked her legs beneath her, keeping her knees close together. Her gown strained, pinned under her weight. "Our longhouse burned to the ground.”

“I’ve heard. You blame Gudrun for not predicting that? You think she should have warned you?”

“It burned during the rainy season,” Vigdis snapped.

Diana frowned, not following her.

“
Nothing
burns then,” the girl explained, “unless the fire’s set.”

“Are you accusing someone of arson?”

“Not
someon
e. Griswold promised my father…." Her words stopped abruptly. Her hands flew to her throat. She began to choke.

"A spell!" Diana recognized the signs at once. She released Vigdis from her binding. "You made an oath?"

Vigdis nodded and gasped for air. Her face turned bluish.

"Repeat the oath, child, so that I can undo it."

No words came. The girl clawed at her neck.

Diana muttered one chant after another, trying to remove the curse. The girl's eyes bulged. Diana sputtered more incantations. Vigdis' tongue swelled.

"No!" More spells spilled from Diana's lips.

Vigdis collapsed. Diana thought of obscure chants and tried those. Vigdis' body spasmed. Her breast no longer rose and fell. Her eyes stared, unseeing.

Inga threw herself on Vigdis' body. "What happened to her?"

Diana turned away, defeated. "An oath—she swore she wouldn't reveal a secret on penalty of death."

"Heid can do that?"

"Any witch can. It's a contract. If you break it…." Diana turned back and motioned toward Vigdis. "Damn it to Hades!"

"But you're the mistress of witches. Why couldn't you remove it?" Freya asked.

"Curses are one thing. I can revoke those. Contracts are different. Oaths are specific. One chant doesn't work on all of them. If I knew the exact oath, I could have saved her, but there's not always time. Every witch knows that."

Inga stomped the ground. "We all know what happened! Griswold slept with her, even though he promised her father he wouldn't. He should be whipped."

"She's a slave." Freya kept her voice calm, but tiny ice crystals sparkled on her cheeks and the air turned cold. Inga and Diana shivered in their wet clothing. Freya bent to close the girl's eyes. She stroked Vigdis' face until it returned to normal. "He could do with her as he pleased. It's your law. If he beat her to death, he'd go unpunished."

Diana noticed the stress on the word
your
. Slaves were commonplace in ancient times. Greeks held them. So did Romans, but she was glad those times were gone.

"He's the reason Snorri killed Gudrun!" Inga screamed.

"Snorri killed an innocent, old woman because Griswold slept with his daughter? What sense does that make?" Diana shook her head. Something niggled at her. "The spell Vigdis used to drown us had to come from Heid. But why make Vigdis take an oath?"

Freya pursed her lips. "Odd, isn't it?"

"Because Griswold's a stupid, mean man!" Inga paced back and forth, unable to stay in one spot. "Heid wants him to stay in power because he's worthless, and she knows it. Three good people died because of him."

"Indirectly, yes." Freya sighed. "But how did Heid become involved?"

Yes, that was the question Diana wanted answered. "How long did Vigdis work in the kitchens?" she asked.

Freya frowned. "Since Griswold made Snorri a slave two years ago. Why?"

"How old is Vigdis? Fifteen? Sixteen? Surely, he was sleeping with her the entire time. He noticed Inga when she was thirteen. That’s the age he seems to prefer."

Inga's expression hardened. "At least she didn't bear him a child."

Diana frowned at that. She remembered that Inga had thrown herself off the high wall of the village to keep from having Griswold's baby. "You've lived outside the village a long time. Are you sure Vigdis had no child?"

Freya looked at the dead girl. A tear slid down her cheek, dropped onto a rock, and turned to gold. Diana stared. Freya shrugged. "Part of my magic." But neither of them was interested in that at the moment. "The chieftain's wife died four years ago. She bore him only daughters. He wed again—a girl much younger—to produce an heir. The girl was sterile. If Vigdis had conceived a boy, Griswold would have taken her baby to raise as his own."

"He could do that?"

"He owned her."

Inga sniffed. "Griswold's old. Don't blame being sterile on Liese or Vigdis."

Freya shook her head. "Last year, when he took another slave to bed, she bore him a daughter."