Lord of the Runes (13 page)

Then, there would be no more dragons.

* * *

Asa studied the carving. It was only wood, wood she had shaped herself. Its eyes seemed to gaze back at her, but that was nonsense. If it were not for her, it would never have existed at all. She was the one with the power. It could hold no sway over her unless she allowed it. The runes were only lines she would create with her knife.

She waited for Eirik to arrive. He'd been enjoying a mug of beer after the evening meal with some of the other men when she'd walked through the common room. He must have seen her, and yet she was still waiting. She ran her hand over the black lines of the symbols, but they remained asleep under her touch. They didn't writhe as they'd done when Eirik had brushed his fingers over them. That must have been the firelight playing tricks on her eyes.

Several oil lamps lit her workspace. She'd built up the small central hearth so Eirik and she would have their heat and light. And so they would drive back the shadows.

“I'm sorry I'm late.” He walked into the room. “Leif was telling one of his stories and I had to hear how it ended.”

“Don't believe any of them.” She shifted closer to the carving so there would be room on the bench. Perhaps she should have found another bench for him so he wouldn't be close, but it was too late.

He sat down beside her. “Oh, I don't. I've told a few of those tales myself.”

“Perhaps, then, you can tell them at Jul. We always listen to stories of the gods and the other worlds on that night. It seems fitting since it's the longest of the year and all the worlds draw closer then.”

“I might be able to think of something.” He leaned forward to study the dragon. Much closer to her.

She held herself still. They would be working together for the next few nights. She'd done this before with the old master, so it shouldn't bother her, but he had been old enough to be her great-grandfather. It wasn't the same with Eirik beside her.

His scent came to her, mixed with that of newly carved wood and the smoke from the fire. The weather was finally calm outside and the smoke didn't draw up through the hole in the peak of the roof very well, leaving the room hazy. Already, the world seemed further away, as though they had left Midgard and entered some other realm where the ancient powers walked. He carried the essence of such magic with him and she breathed it in.

She needed to steady herself. He was so male and so obviously a warrior. That must be what she was feeling. No different from any other woman, and that should have given her comfort. But it didn't.

“Now, for Thurisaz, we want to start with the upper diagonal and carve it down and to the right.” His voice was deep and right beside her.

She picked up her knife. “I would think you begin with the vertical line.”

“I know. But they were created in realms other than ours, so they don't yield to our ways.”

“Carving downward is more difficult than up.” She set the edge of the knife to the wood, holding it at an angle. She would carve each line into a V.

He set his hand on hers. His touch was so light, it wasn't even a caress on her skin, but it hit her deep, like one of Thor's bolts coming too close.

“As the thorn protects the rose,” he said beside her ear, “so Thurisaz protects all who wield it. May it lend its strength to any vessel that bears it.”

He sat at her back. His arm came around her and he kept his hand over hers. The heat from his body seeped into her, his voice wrapping around her like a soft cloak. His other hand rested near her hip. She'd braided back her hair to keep it out of the way, and the bare skin of her neck tingled. She wore three layers of clothing and still the power from him penetrated her.

Keeping her hand steady, she finished the first cut. His hand dropped away, but as it did, his fingers drifted over her skin.

“Perfect. Now for the other angle.”

She swallowed. This was too close, too dangerous, too . . . everything. Biting her lip, she applied the blade to the wood, angled in the opposite direction. Once again, he leaned forward. This time, his chest rested against her back. He touched his fingertips to her wrist and she drew in a sharp breath as her thighs weakened.

He murmured soft words she couldn't understand, the sound of them floating through her mind. The room fell away, but the dragon sharpened into hard focus. As she completed the incision, the wood loosened. She made the two small cuts at the ends and the piece dropped off.

As it did, the darkness within her lightened, just a touch, as though she had cut away a heavy, dark part of herself. What magic did he have? What words did he speak that had such power?

“Beautiful. Now, the next cut—”

“Is the vertical line, downward.” The line she'd drawn before pulsated in the dim light.

“How did you know that? Did you do this rune with the old master?”

“No. I just saw it. In the image.” She sat back even though it brought her into closer contact with him. He didn't move, but pressed his hand against her hip.

“It's only the runes speaking. Their gift to you. We need to continue. We can't leave this undone.” He pushed his cloak back and rolled up his sleeves.

It
was
getting a bit warm in the room. Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, she set the knife to the black vertical line. He placed his arm alongside hers and cupped her hand with his larger one. The light sprinkling of hair on his muscular forearm shimmered in the golden light of the fire. His wrist was thick with strength, his hand well formed, his fingers long, sensitive.

“Asa. The cut.” Humor laced his voice.

Her cheeks heated. She must have built the fire too well. She made the long cut downward. At least it was strong and sure, not revealing the quaking inside her.

“Let the sensation flow through you, Asa. Don't try to fight it.” He spoke close to her, his breath ruffling her hair. “The magic you feel between us is older than we are, older than time itself. It is meant to be. Everything that happens, everything you experience, is fated by the gods.”

His voice was as powerful and deep as a sword stroke, and it plunged into the heart of her. She made the other score for the line, and the knife seemed to move of its own accord. Two more cuts, and the center of the line fell out. Without waiting for him to tell her, she carved the other diagonal downward from right to left.

“Yes.” He caressed her hand, not moving back from her. “That's perfect.”

She moved her hand from beneath his. He traced the lines in the wood with his finger, whispering. His eyes closed. The cuts were still rough and she'd smooth and shape them in the days to come, but the rune itself was completed.

She couldn't move until he did, trapped between him and the dragon as he spoke his magic. How could she do this, night after night, until the other five were finished? She must. Just this one last time.

He stopped speaking. The room came into focus, the magic broken, and she shifted to the side.

“Eirik.”

He leaned back, and she glanced at him. His eyes were a darker blue, the pupils large. Blinking, he smiled at her. “I think we depleted all the power for the night. It turned out very well.”

“Yes.” She looked at the dragon. “It fits beautifully. I think he's pleased. Will we carve the next one tomorrow night? The night after that is Jul, so we won't work then.”

“I'll meet you here again after the second meal.” He stood.

She did as well, so he wouldn't loom over her. “Thank you. I think it will come out very well in the end.”

A smile touched his eyes as he inclined his head. “I hope so.”

After he left, she placed the cloth over the dragon. The room was still hazy with smoke, and for a time it hadn't seemed to exist. Now, everything was back to normal as though nothing magical had happened at all. But it had.

Shaking her head, she left for her own bed. The feelings that had washed over her were, no doubt, caused from her own fancies and dreams. His nearness. Her fears.

His touch, though, had been anything but frightening. And that was the strangest thing of all.

* * *

Eirik skied through the trees, ahead of the other men. This hunt should clear his head of the evening before, when he'd brought the old power into Asa's carving. Perhaps.

The magic still swirled through his mind, holding him in its grip. Was it Asa?

The soft skin of her arm against his. The fragrance of her hair. The power coursing through them both, combining the symbols and the wood.

What had he told Asa? To allow the sensation to flow through her. Had he spoken only of the power he'd called, or had he referred to the growing emotion between them? She would deny it, but not forever. Now, with the forest surrounding him, he opened himself to the natural forces there.

The connection to all things sharpened his senses. Life rested in the winter lands, but underneath it, energies still streamed, and they rose up into him. The cold faded away. In spite of how long he'd been skiing through the rough forest, energy hummed in his body.

Magnus glided on his skis a short distance off, to Eirik's left. He'd rarely let Eirik out of his sight as they hunted apart from the others, the better to find the elk they sought. Eirik smiled to himself. That matter of trust again.

Something was wrong in the forest around them. Something dark. He poled to a stop, listening, sensing. The hair on the back of his neck rose and he scanned the shadows between the trees. A shape moved just ahead.

Eirik stuck his poles in the snow and shrugged his bow off his shoulder. He took an arrow from his quiver and set it in the string. The man might be another hunter, but no. He'd stopped and had Magnus in his sights. He had to be an outcast. Eirik's shot would be difficult, for the man stood sideways to him and hadn't seen him yet. Eirik froze, watching.

The man raised his bow toward the jarl, and drew back. In an instant, Eirik steadied, aimed, and let his arrow fly. It struck the man in the great vein in the side of his neck. He fell in an arc of blood. As he collapsed, he released his arrow and it sliced through the air at Magnus, but it pierced the ground at the jarl's feet.

Magnus spun on Eirik. His eyes narrowed as he took in the spent bow and he moved toward him, unsheathing his sword. “By the gods.”

Eirik gripped his own sword, but didn't draw it. “Hold, Jarl. That's not my arrow. You gave them to me yourself, so you should know. It came from him.”

He pointed toward the fallen man. Magnus glanced at the body, then went back and picked up the arrow in the snow. He skied to the dead man and took an arrow from his quiver, comparing them. Then he examined the arrow in the outcast's neck. Throwing the arrows to the ground, he shook his head.

“I owe you an apology.” He sheathed his sword and came toward him.

“I would have thought the same under similar circumstances, Jarl.” He grinned. “And I wouldn't be that bad a shot, even dying.”

“Judging from the skill it took to hit him as you did, you might be right.” He offered his hand and they grasped wrists. “I owe you my life.”

“And I owe you mine from the blizzard.”

“That was Asa's doing. Besides, you might have been Odin. He has a habit of traveling disguised as a man to see who will offer him their hospitality. We dared not refuse.”

“I'm not that old, and I'm not missing an eye.”

“Thank the gods for that, or you might not have made that shot.”

Eirik looked at the body. “What about him? Was he alone or are there more here?”

Other men came through the trees, and Eirik tensed, but they were Magnus's warriors and hunters. At Magnus's command, they spread out to act as guards and to search for more of the outcasts. At least now, they had numbers.

“Should we bury him in the snow, Jarl?” One of the men shoved the body with his spear. “Or leave him as a warning?”

“Leave him,” Magnus said, his voice hard. “Let them find him. And if they don't, the wolves need something to eat.”

“It might escalate things between you and the outcasts, Jarl.” Eirik slung his bow on his back. “They might want to take revenge for this.”

“Good. Then it will bring them out in the open instead of skulking like rats. We'll be ready. I've gathered all of the people that I can into Thorsfjell.”

One of the men approached them. “Jarl, we found fresh spoor from elk in the ravine over the hill.”

Magnus nodded. “We've already had one successful hunt. Let us go have another.” But as the man left, the jarl didn't follow him. He studied Eirik for a moment and Eirik met his regard. “In spite of what you say, I do owe you my life, rune caster. That's a heavy burden to bear, but one I do gladly for such a man as I think you are.”

“Eirik. To my friends, I am just Eirik.” He held out his hand again.

“And to mine, I am Magnus.” He grasped his wrist, warrior to warrior.

As Eirik skied through the woods, he smiled. He had wondered how to win Magnus's confidence, and the gods had provided. Perhaps this was the spark that would ignite that trust. And maybe, just maybe, they would join forces to rid both their lands of this plague.

If he could trust them as well.

“Y
ou're quite the hero now.” A mug of ale in his hand, Leif sat down across from Eirik in the common room. “I do have to thank you for saving my brother. If you hadn't, I would be jarl now, and we couldn't have that.” He winced and took a deep drink. “Of course, Asa could always take over. It does happen. And she's already a warrior.”

Eirik chuckled. “A woman may act as a son, having the same rights and inheritance. But only if she's not married, a crime has been perpetrated against her family, or there are no male heirs. I don't think that last one applies here.”

“No.” Leif sighed. “Magnus and I look too much alike for me to claim illegitimacy. I already tried that once and no one believed me. Gods curse my luck.”

“That, and the fact that you both were born at the same time.” He smiled into his cup.

“That doesn't prove anything.” Leif lowered his voice. “I heard about this woman once, who swived two men at the same time. She gave birth to twins and it was said that one looked like one man and the other babe looked like the other.”

“Leif. Tales again?”

Asa walked up to their table, hands on her hips. Her lips twitched as though she tried not to smile.

“I swear it, Asa.” Leif held his hands up. “I heard it from—”

“Never mind that.” She looked at Eirik. “Do you want to work on the next rune tonight? Or do you wish to enjoy the celebration? It's not every day that Magnus's life is saved and that we have three elk roasting for the Jul feast tomorrow. Thanks to your fine bow work on both counts.”

“I only shot one of the elk.” Eirik stood.

Leif snorted. “And one outcast. A good catch for any day.”

Eirik clapped him on the shoulder, laughing. He followed Asa into the weaving room and closed the door against the noise. She'd already lit the lamps and the small central hearth. The fire burned low and the room held a chill. He hid a smile. Perhaps she didn't want him to roll up his sleeves again so his arm wouldn't rest directly against hers. She was going to be disappointed.

He slipped off his cloak and laid it on a bench. She wouldn't look at him as she lifted the cloth off the carving. With the light lower than it had been last night, the shadows rose deeper. But darkness wouldn't stop the ancient power from gathering around them when he called it.

“Perhaps you would prefer to stay out there with the others. They're all hailing you for what you did for Magnus today.” She sat down on the bench.

“We'll be celebrating Jul for the next twelve nights.” He settled beside her and rolled up his sleeves. “I would rather be here with you anyhow.”

She glanced at his arms and blushed. Shifting so she faced the dragon, she said, “Then we should begin.”

He allowed himself a brief smile. “Yes. The next rune is Elhaz. It's the major rune of protection and anchors the other two. It will bring a spiritual guardian to the ship. You'll begin by carving the vertical line straight down first.”

She nodded and he set his hand on hers. She began the cut. Her hand was so long and slender, yet she wielded the knife as she wielded her sword, with great accuracy and skill.

As he closed his eyes, the rune formed in his mind. He placed his hand over it, matching its shape with his fingers. Its power heated his skin and the warmth spread up his arm, and down into his heart. The energy flowed along his veins then, filling him with the power.

The room had grown hazy, the smoke from the fire curling around them. Asa sat before him, still carving the first line. He bent his head and breathed her in. Her essence, like her scent, entered him. It swirled with the magic he had called, mingling together within him, as one.

He just touched her hair with his cheek. “By the power of Elhaz, I protect you. By the strength of my sword, I guard you. And by the force that courses within me, I hold you, safe, always.”

The first piece of wood fell away. She didn't move, their arms still together as they touched the dragon. He wrapped his other arm around her, very soft, very easy.

“Now for the next line. Carve the left side upward.”

She shuddered, but placed the blade to the wood. As she made the cut, he reached deep within himself and called the ancient magic again. The words came to him as Lifa, his mother, had taught him so long ago. Even he didn't know what they meant or where they'd come from, though she'd told him they were from the language the gods themselves spoke.

Power crept into the room. It stole in, surrounding them like a fog on the seas, and he uttered the words louder. The energies climbed. He tightened his arm around her, pulling her closer to his chest.

She hesitated, but he touched his mouth to her ear. “Don't stop. The power guides you now. Feel it. Hear it. Let it flow through you into your hand, and back through your body. Become one with it, and with the rune. Its magic shields us from anything of the world in this time and place. There is only us now.”

The second piece slid away from the rune. He said nothing as Asa made the correct cut upward along the other side. He ran his fingers along her wrist and the back of her hand as she carved. A small log split apart, hissing, and in the dim light, the dragon appeared to shift under their touch.

As the final piece of wood came away, completing the rune, a surge of power hit him. Asa lowered her head, moaning, and he caught her closer to his chest. She dropped the knife and placed her hand over the rune, fingers spread along the grooves. He put his hand over hers, matching it as the energies rushed through them.

Touching the side of her neck with his lips, he tasted her. Like wildflowers and rare spices. She tilted her head to one side and her hair slid away, baring her skin. He kissed her there, then moved down to the curve of her shoulder.

She caught her breath, as though she tried to awaken from a dream. He kissed her hair, running his hand over her flat stomach. Her hand clenched over the rune as he enfolded it in his much larger one. Bringing it to her shoulder, he kissed it and she looked back at him. Her eyes were large and luminous, dark with the power churning there.

“Asa.” He couldn't keep the deep thrum of desire from his voice.

She blinked and her eyes became blank, touched with fear, like they had in the sauna. The link between them snapped.

He turned her to him and, cupping her face in his hands, brushed her forehead with his mouth. “Asa, come back to me. The rune protects you, as I protect you. That which you fear has no power in this place. The dragon wears Elhaz now and will stand guard over you.”

She focused on him, her eyes becoming sharp once again. As though she had just surfaced from the depths of a vast fjord, she took a deep breath and lowered her eyes. Clearing her throat, she shifted away from him and took her hand from his. He allowed it, his hand slipping from her waist.

“Eirik. I—I thank you. For your help.” She stood, swaying a bit, and brushed at the wood chips on her skirt. “I don't know if we should work on this anymore until Jul is finished. There may not be time with all the festivities and, with the darkness this time of year, it might be dangerous to call any more magic.”

Rising, he said, “As you wish. We can continue anytime. I'll be here for you.”

She wouldn't look at him as she nodded. But when she skirted around him, he took her arm with so light a touch, she could have continued on had she wished to. She stopped. “Asa, I would never let anything dark touch you. Remember that.”

“I will.” She spun and opened the door to the weaving room.

He picked up his cloak and followed her. Leaning against the frame, he watched as she took her cloak from the wall peg and rushed outside, her head down. Several people glanced between them as the door slammed, but he ignored them.

Hjellmar sidled up to him. “Looks like the ice queen has melted and in her place stands a true woman. Who would have known?”

Eirik pushed himself from the door frame and spoke low. “Say anything like that again, Hjellmar, and
you'll
know what it is to be frozen. In the ground.” He swirled his cloak over his shoulders and pushed past Hjellmar toward the front door.

As he stepped outside, the night was clear and cold. But there was no moon and Asa had vanished into the darkness. With the tracks of all the people who had gathered there for the evening, he would never be able to find hers.

The last of the magic vanished from his mind. He stood looking at the stars. For each person, his mother had said, there was one other. She'd tried to tell him Sela was not the one for him, but he hadn't listened. There were other voices speaking to him now, older, deeper, wiser.

When the ancient magic had entered them, he'd touched Asa's soul. The power of Elhaz had protected her, but when the magic drained away, her fears had rushed back in. Instead of welcoming the closeness they'd shared, she'd feared it. And him. She had thrust both of them away and run. Why? It seemed she'd remembered her past once again and it had come between them.

In that moment, the dreams left her eyes.

Arms wrapped around him from behind and he smiled. Perhaps in the clarity of the night, Asa had realized he meant her no harm. He turned with a smile.

“I saw you come out here.” Estrid gazed up at him with her beautiful, cold blue eyes. “Don't bother following Asa. She toyed with you, letting you do as you wished, and left you wanting more, did she not? She's done this before, as I warned you. Perhaps she suspects our love. She never could let me have any man without trying to take him from me. They all want her. She'll come between you and the others, and they'll drive you out in disgrace because of her lies. We must keep our love secret, but I know places we can go to be alone.”

Our love? What was she talking about? He took her by the arms and stood her away from him. “Estrid, there is no love between us. I don't know why you think this, but it isn't so.”

For an instant, something ugly flashed across her face, but she smoothed her mouth into a smile. “She's cast her spell on you, too, then. Like she did to him, and now he's gone from me. This time, I won't give up so easily. I was too young before to fight for what I want, but not now. Just wait, beloved. I won't let her destroy you, as well.”

How had this happened? She was not right in her mind and he needed to tell Magnus. Shock sped through him so hard he didn't have time to react as she stood on her toes and kissed his mouth. Then she ran back into the longhouse and he let her go.

Something was very wrong here. His touch frightened Asa so much, she retreated into her own thoughts to escape the terror. Estrid was unwell in her mind and blamed Asa for something in their past. He didn't believe anything Estrid told him about Asa, but could there be a connection? There was only one way to find out.

Magnus. But would the jarl's newfound trust extend to exposing the shadows that lay within his family?

* * *

Estrid was losing him. He had wanted her. He had. She'd known it since they first saw each other. He had picked her first. He'd wanted her to be warm. Now Asa was coming between her and the man she loved. Again.

Estrid watched the others in the common room as they laughed and played games. The light from the long fire shone on them all, and dozens of oil lamps illuminated everything. And again, she stood on the outside, looking in.

In the shadows, as always.

The darkness closed in on her, oozing down the walls, along the floor, rising up into her body. She closed her eyes, but it kept coming, replacing the blood in her veins with blackness. No one stood against the darkness for her. No one drew his sword and tore it away from her. Everyone laughed and talked, sitting in the light like they were safe. But they all cast shadows, as well. They just faced the light so they wouldn't see them. What was she to do when there was no light? When everything was shadow and darkness?

Even if it meant defeat, she could fight. The warriors believed their fates were already decided. So they fought with all the bravery and valor they had, each time embracing whatever the gods had in store for them.

She could do no less. Even if she failed, like those who went raiding she would fight for Eirik and shield him against the darkness. He was so bright and beautiful, it hurt her eyes to look at him. She would show him she didn't need to be a shieldmaiden to win him.

She needed an ally. Someone who would understand how she felt being shunned and humiliated. Being alone. A man who wouldn't succumb to Asa's false allure.

He sat there, alone, at a side bench, angry, resentful, filled with hate for the jarl's highborn sister who had embarrassed him in front of all the other men. Just what she needed. Estrid filled a mug with ale and went to him. He raised his brows in question as she sat down beside him and handed him the ale. Then he smiled at her, sweeping his gaze along her body. She pressed closer to him in invitation as he took a drink.

Yes. He would be perfect.

* * *

Asa gathered up the wooden toys she had carved for the children for Jul and put them in a large cloth bag. She'd bear the rest of the evening as well as she could. Eirik had been at the feast, of course, and she'd sat as far as possible from him. She hadn't even been able to bring herself to look at him, for she would see him as he was last night. His hair had gleamed in the firelight, his eyes deep and luminous with the power coursing through him. And with the desire twining between them.

It was all she had thought about all day, and each time, her heart would shred a bit more.

When she'd gone outside last night with just her cloak, she'd realized how cold it was and had started back to the longhouse. Eirik had stood in front of it. In Estrid's embrace. They'd talked, standing close together. Then he'd held her by the arms and looked down into her eyes. Estrid had kissed him and left.