EPIC: Fourteen Books of Fantasy (91 page)

The path through the Elder Meadow hid amongst the grass; the dwarves kept their existence well hidden from the surrounding farmers. Rolf claimed the dwarves had been harassed by nearby villages and their secrecy was a matter of survival. Though Erik wasn’t sure what to make of his hosts, he knew they weren’t the mythic monsters of tales and his gut told him they could be trusted.

“Come.” The command lulled him, the voice deep, resonant and full.

Erik pounded his fist against his forehead in response. Had the dreams seized his waking life?
 

“What do you want?”

“I knew you heard me. I want to show you something.”

“Who are you?”
 

Erik stumbled along the rocky path leading to the entrance to Andvarri’s home. He reached the mountain wall and fumbled over the stone, finding the latch and activating the stone to open.

“Your best friend,” the voice said.

Erik slid behind the bushes that hid the entrance to Andvarri’s. He strutted through the doorway and proceeded down a torch-lit tunnel.

“Or your worst enemy. You decide.”

Erik snorted. “I’m rather fond of making enemies.”
 

Erik approached the main home after several turns through the tunnels. An open door awaited him. He entered the home, decorated in earthy browns and a variety of greens, plush woven carpets and a fire pit fitted with an intricate ventilation system. Soon he stretched himself across his two plump mattresses, holding his head between his hands.

“Those who burn so brightly, burn out quickly.”

What is your point?
He mouthed the words, as the conversation moved inside his head.

I want to show you something. Sleep and I will come to you.

Sleep
, Erik thought.
 

His heavy head rested upon the hay filled pillows propped beneath him. They cushioned him like a cloud and he was the wind, drifting, drifting . . .

Close your eyes.

Erik obeyed. He could feel the fight within him dying. The fights with Hallad. The fights with Rolf. The fight he would have with Lothar. Had he any strength left in his bones? Or had the fire burned out?

Within moments Erik entered the gray-shifting landscape, his body half visible through the fog. A man approached, dressed in white linens head to foot. Black hair shone atop a narrow face, blacker than even Erik’s own. Shadows shifted in his eyes, matching the undulating landscape around him. His skin was smoother than white marble. He moved like a river, reminding Erik of Lord Lothar’s fluid quality, yet this man seemed even more dangerous than the white-haired lord.

“Who are you?”

His lips curled, revealing stark white teeth as he brushed his fingers over his chin. “I am many people. And I am no one at all.”

“Don’t play games with me.”

“Oh, I would never. I can see that would not work with someone of your, shall we say, caliber. Intensely intelligent and heroically passionate. A rare combination. And gifted.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You may fool your village friends, my boy, but you cannot fool me. We are here after all, aren’t we?”

“I’ll ask you one more time before I leave, who are you?”

“Oh, you won’t leave. You’ve too much to learn from me. And you want to find her, don’t you? Emma. I can take you to her. Look.”

The gray landscape faded to black, until bright colors swirled in the darkness, parting the shadow as if he traveled through a long tunnel, like riding inside a rainbow surrounded by a black storm. When he reached the end of the passageway Emma was there, staring directly into his eyes.

“Erik is that you? Oh, my love!”
 

Emma threw her arms around his neck, nuzzling inside the crook of his shoulder. The sweetness of linnea flowers filled his nostrils as he soaked in her scent, her sunlight colored hair tickling the side of his rough cheek.

“Emma! I’ve been searching for you. I tried, but I couldn’t get to you.” He pulled her tighter, feeling her curves against him.

“I could not bear to be without you, love. I wanted to die.”

“Oh, Emma, please do not speak so.”
 

He kissed her forehead, then face, then neck. He settled his cheek in the bend of that neck, snuggling her hair. He enveloped her in his arms, pushing into her as if he would crawl inside her skin, unable to get close enough after their long separation. Her warmth penetrated him, spreading throughout his body.

Abruptly, there was nothing except blackness and coldness. Within a breath, she disappeared. The gray fog returned. The ebony-haired man smiled, still rubbing his fingers over his smooth chin.

“What trickery is this?” Erik grasped for Emma’s warmth. His insides felt hollow. Empty. His body ached to touch her again.

“No trickery. It is your gift. Your gift from me.” The man’s shifting eyes searched Erik. “Come to me every night. You may have your heart’s desire. I promise you. I swear an oath on my own mother.” At the last comment, he grinned.

Then, quicker than he had appeared, he vanished, a wisp of white and ebony smoke dancing with the gray until nothing remained.

Erik.
 

Erik jumped. He knew the voice. It sounded of bells and springtime. He turned to find Swan standing behind him. How could she sneak up on him even in his sleep? He burned inside. With anger. With agony for the loss of Emma.

Swan’s gaze melted at the sight of him.
 

You must set the ward.
The words danced, echoing in the endless landscape.
Do you understand? You must set it. Like this.
 

She drew a symbol in the air with her finger. As her hand left the space, light burst off the character as if she had drawn the sign with white fire. Notes rang out. A sharp melody filled his head.

Faster than an avalanche, the void returned. The blackness gripped him, comforted him, until he drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter XXVIII

“S
HE
REFUSES
MY
REQUEST
?”

“I told you.” Olrun sat cross-legged on the ground. She looked like a giant ship knot as she chewed on a string of smoked deer meat. “Godhi’s son. Guardian. The Goddess incarnate. No one demands an audience from Serpent Mother.”

Olrun sprang from her spot, fumbling to untangle her legs as Swan appeared behind her.
 

“Sweet Freyja woman! Do you practice sneaking up on people or does it come naturally?” The drengmaer’s face smoldered out of jealousy, or admiration—Hallad couldn’t decide which.

Swan swept up next to Hallad, brushing against his shoulder. Since Thyre’s death, she’d remained by his side, even at the pyre. They had watched in silent companionship while his
mother
burned, Thyre’s flesh released to the gods. Though he had braved a stoic appearance for the others, he could not hide his suffering from his sister. They shared the pain through the connection between them. He knew Swan understood. Not only had she lost her own mother,
their mother
, but the realization of Thyre’s final words drove home the fact they’d both released their father to the lands of the gods as well. Grief gripped each of them with the knowledge that they would never see Avarr again.

Rota crouched by a giant oak bouncing up and down on her mighty thighs, the muscles beneath flexing with every spring.

“When will she call for us?” Hallad addressed Rota, but as usual, she ignored him.

“How should we know the mind of Serpent Mother?” replied Olrun.

Hallad stretched his overworked muscles. The women had drilled the twins the last few days in training. Though he admired their skill and was learning new proficiencies, he couldn’t help but think they wasted time. Emma’s time.

He settled away from the others, pulling the medallion out of his pocket. Runes displayed across the face of the gold piece but as if coaxed from within, rather than carved from without. The man who had given him the medallion had disappeared so mysteriously that even the drengmaers’ hunting party failed to find him.

Hallad closed his hand around the metal. He thought it hummed against his palm. He flexed his hand and peered at the peculiar piece, spotting the runes once more. He didn’t recognize them—an oddity, because as the son of a noble he had been taught all the known runes of the Scandians.

He realized the medallion would lead him to Emma, but how? If he knew where to go, he would leave tonight.
Weigh all sides before making a decision
, his father had repeated over the years. But waiting grew unbearable. Slow. Arduous. Ineffective. His bones itched to take flight; to run, to find Emma and fulfill the promise he’d given to Thyre. But his heart broke in two—he had also sworn an oath to his father to protect Swan with life and limb.

Swan rested by her bedroll, seeing him without looking—the way he saw her—by feeling, not by eyesight. He crossed to his sleep sack, climbed inside and laid down to stare at the banked embers in the fire pit. How would he find Emma? His responsibilities weighed him as he struggled to keep them from slipping from his grasp.

Hallad started as the metal warmed his palm. He pulled his hand up to his face. Light glowed through the spaces between his fingers and he opened his hand—the medallion had lit up and was casting a yellow glow. The symbols morphed, changing into other runes across the face of the metal. He recognized kano, an opening. Algiz, a protective sanctuary. Ansuz, messages and signals. But the rest were lost.

Then he registered the impossibility of an object moving on its own accord and the piece froze, motionless once more. Stunned, Hallad glanced at his companions. Olrun and Rota had slipped into their bedrolls, though Rota never actually slept in the roll; rather, she slept on top of her furs with her lion-skin boots laced up as if she was going on a midday hike. Neither of them paid him any mind.

But Swan stared at Hallad intensely, catching him with the depths of her blue-black eyes. He caught a surge of fear from her before she stinted the connection, breaking away from him. The medallion caused distant memories to launch inside his sister’s mind. Though most thought of her as iron and ice, Hallad knew the truth. Her emotions ran as deep as anyone’s, only she knew how to disguise them.

Hallad stowed the medallion back inside his trousers, hoping to project calm to his sister, though his insides stirred with possibilities. He closed his eyes, feigning sleep. He did not know what had set Swan off, but he intended to sooth her. He pushed away the thoughts tumbling inside his head: Emma, Erik, Thyre, his father. The images lined up like soldiers, like sticks, waiting to fall if he didn’t catch them first. How could he manage all of his promises? He numbed himself against the barrage, trying to send Swan thoughts of sleep, of comfort, but his mind could not find peace.

A deep fog settled throughout the IronWood, heavy with the scent of winter even though they were a full moon’s turning past spring. Hallad tossed until exhausted, until sleep overtook him. Aware of dreaming, Hallad floated within a drab landscape. He sensed Swan next to him, a gentle breeze brushing against his shoulder and he smiled.

Brother.
The words bloomed around him as he turned to Swan.

She floated too, dispersing in the light mist. Her face seemed less rigid, her features supple, her hair silken.

“Sister,” he replied. Upon discovering their shared ancestry, he should have embraced her, welcomed her. Instead he had blamed her for his predicament. “I have to tell you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—“

Shush.
She spoke, yet her mouth did not move. She placed a long finger over his lips.
You had every right to feel the way you did. Everything that has happened is my fault.

“Nei. That’s not true.”

Had I not sought you out, your life would have remained peaceful.

“Had you not arrived, I would never know why emptiness possessed me for the greater part of my life.”
 

Hallad reached for her, but her figure shimmered as if struggling to remain.

I did not know you heard me, brother. The song, the village. I did not know.

Her body faded into the landscape then flickered back.
 

I don’t have long. In order to come to you in your dream I had to go deeper into the shadowwalk than ever before. I have only been able to speak to one who can also travel in the walk and since you do not have the touch of the Shadow . . .
She dropped her head, collecting her wits. Then she leveled her gaze on him, capturing him the same way she did the night they met.
I will set things right, brother. It does not fall on you. I will make it right.

Before Hallad could answer, she swirled into the gray mist and vanished.

The godhi’s son awoke. Something nagged at his memory. Last night. A dream.

He stretched, rolled from his bed, slipped on a tunic and searched for his boots. Memories lingered in his mind, rolling over and over like a drunken recollection. He crossed to a water bucket and splashed his face. The bite of cold water sharpened his thoughts.