Timeless (34 page)

“After you had begun to have feelings for me.”

The quiet way he said it startled her into silence.

His blue eyes searched her face. “Which, after this afternoon, I thought might not be far in the future.”

Her heart missed a beat. She looked away, afraid he would see in her eyes what she had barely begun to admit to herself.

What she dared not admit to him.

“You were mistaken.” She did her best to sound cool and remote. Grabbing her walking stick and boots, she quickly changed to a safer subject. “Should we not go back and collect our friends, and return to town? I am still concerned about Josette. While she was babbling, she mentioned something about Thorolf—”

“Avril—”

“—But she was so upset about losing Keldan, I could not make sense of half of what she was saying. I want to make certain she is all right.”

She started back the way they had come, noticing with a twinge in her heart how far apart the two sets of footprints were in the sand.

“Avril, she appeared perfectly well when we left her. You can check on her later. On the morrow.” Hauk did not follow.

Avril stopped and turned. “We are not going?”

One corner of his mouth curved. “I do not think we should intrude upon them yet.”

Avril felt warmth rise in her cheeks, realizing he was probably right. Josette and Keldan had barely noticed when she and Hauk left them. The young couple had been too busy celebrating their reunion.

Which might take the rest of the night.

And Avril did not wish to steal one moment of their happiness. Even if it meant being stranded out here with Hauk until morning.

The last glimmer of sunlight seemed to choose that very moment to vanish from the horizon, leaving the two of them cloaked in shadows and the first, tentative radiance of the moon.

“There is a sheltered place near the waterfall,” Hauk said. “We can spend the night there.”

His tone was reassuring but his words brought an unsettling flutter to Avril’s stomach. She remembered too well what had happened the last time she and Hauk spent a moonlit night on the beach.

Struggling to banish the memory, to keep her tone cool and unruffled, she walked back toward him. “Are you certain you do not have to return to town at once and see to Thorolf’s punishment?”

He shook his head. “It will be safer to delay our return journey through the woods until dawn, since our ill-tempered acquaintances with the sharp fangs prefer to hunt in the darkness.” He fell in step beside her as they continued walking along the shore. “The men who rode with Keldan will take Thorolf to the council. Josette and Keldan will have to appear before them on the morrow to tell what happened, and the elders will decide his punishment.”

She looked at him curiously. “How
do
you punish those who break your laws?”

“Fortunately, it is rarely necessary.” He shrugged. “A person may be fined, or banished to a distant part of the island for a time, or even confined to solitary imprisonment. Thorolf’s misdeeds over the years have earned him all of those penalties.” Hauk’s expression hardened. “But when he attacked Keldan, he broke the most sacred of our laws, and he will pay dearly for it.”

“In France, he would be drawn and quartered,” Avril said, still angry at the terrifying ordeal poor Josette had endured.

“Mayhap, milady. But violence of any kind, for any reason, is strictly forbidden among us. The sort of killing and mayhem that occur every day in your world are unknown on Asgard.”

Avril blinked at him in disbelief. “In all this time, no
innfodt
has ever killed”—she caught her error—”well, not killed, but—”

“Nay, no
innfodt
has purposely harmed another. Not within my memory.”

“All three hundred years of it?”

That comment earned her a frown.

“My apologies,” she amended lightly. “I suppose I should not tease you about being so old.”

“Nay, feel free.” His slow smile flashed in the moonlight. “I will be happy to prove to you that I possess all the prowess and stamina of a man of thirty. Mayhap I should demonstrate—”

“Mayhap not.” She increased the distance between them, waggling her stick in warning. His gaze roved over the masculine garb she still wore, in a way that made her heartbeat quicken.

“I still do not understand,” she persisted, trying to keep his mind—and her own—on the subject at hand. “Even if weapons and violence are forbidden, there must still be disputes and quarrels and fights.”

“Aye.” He moved closer as they walked. “But the first generation of
innfodt
decided that peace and co-operation would be essential among our people, when they realized none could leave Asgard and all would be living here together a very long time.” He reached out and took her boots from her hand, gallantly carrying them for her. “Disagreements are brought before the elders, they discuss the matter, and decide how to settle it.” He reached out and took her walking stick. “Fortunately, troublemakers like Thorolf are rare.”

Avril belatedly realized she had just been disarmed. “I am surprised there are not more like him,” she said, turning around and walking backward, the better to keep an eye on Hauk’s quick hands. “No matter where people live in the world, men are still men. Unless you have somehow managed to do away with rivalry and aggression and envy and greed—”

“There is little cause for any of that on Asgard. There is ample land and prosperity for all to enjoy, ample time to enjoy it, and all share in it equally. There are no lords here, no princes, no serfs. And as for the aggressive, physical side of man’s nature, we channel that into sport...” His slow, wicked smile returned. “And other enjoyable pursuits.”

She turned away, not liking the effect that smile had on her pulse. “You make Asgard sound like it truly
is
a paradise.” His world sounded utterly different from her own. France knew little else
but
war, as lords and kings battled for land and riches, power and revenge.

“Aye.” His voice became serious. “Though in truth, I fear we have become almost too peaceful.”

They had reached a curve in the shoreline, a point where the sloping cliff stretched all the way across the beach in front of them, blocking their path. The waterfall tumbled noisily from the sky a short distance beyond. Hauk moved ahead of her, pulling aside a tangle of greenery to reveal some rough-hewn steps cut into the rock. “The sheltered place is just on the other side.” He started to climb up, then reached back to help her.

Avril hesitated only a moment before she took his hand. His skin felt warm against hers, the stone steps cool and damp beneath her bare feet. The rocky slope of the cliff was only a few yards high at this point, and when they reached the top, she could see that the beach continued on the other side, the shore of the cove stretching away into the darkness.

“Careful.” Hauk took a protective hold on her arm, steadying her as she climbed down.

When her feet touched the sand again, she realized that they were at the base of a crevasse that extended deep into the cliff. Most of the rushing waterfall flowed directly into the cove, but a few streams spilled down on this side, falling in sheer curtains that glistened in the moonlight, gathering in a pool at the bottom that reflected the night sky.

High above them, along the top of the crevasse, the tall pines had grown together across the opening, branches intertwined to form an arching canopy. It almost reminded Avril of the roof of a cathedral. But instead of stained glass and gold, this sanctuary was decorated with naught but the starlight that sprinkled down through the green boughs, and the sparkle of the waterfall. In the morning, she thought, the whole place would have an emerald glow.

It was not merely a sheltered place; it was a secluded haven, filled with the scent of pine and the peaceful sounds of the waterfall and the waves. “A paradise,” she whispered.

“I rest here when I return from my voyages away from Asgard,” Hauk said quietly. Setting down her boots and walking stick, he stepped toward an ancient-looking rain barrel wedged against the rock. “And I keep a few necessities on hand.” He motioned for her to join him.

Twisting the lid of the barrel, he lifted it and set it aside, then dug through the contents. He handed her a folded woolen blanket and a leather flask.

She uncorked the flask and drank, expecting water and coughing when she tasted potent wine instead. “Necessities?”

He grinned, taking out some pieces of dry firewood and kindling before replacing the lid. “When I return to Asgard after visiting the outside world, what I want most is a long sleep and a strong drink.” He carried the wood over to a small circle of stones near the pool—a fire pit, judging by the charred remnants of logs within.

She followed and dropped the blanket and flask next to him before moving toward the waterfall, enchanted by the glistening rush of silvery droplets. Leaning across the shallow pool, she cupped one hand in the cascade, surprised to discover that it was warm. She lifted her hand to her mouth.

“Avril, you might not want to—”

She could not spit the water out fast enough, making a face. “That tastes like... I do not know
what
that tastes like.” She wiped the sleeve of her tunic across her mouth.

Hauk chuckled. “It is fed by a warm spring that is rich with minerals. There are many of them across Asgard.” He pointed to a second rain barrel a few feet away, this one open to the sky. “That is for drinking water.”

A pair of empty flasks hung next to the barrel, dangling from an iron peg hammered into the rock. Relieved, Avril walked over and filled one before returning to the fire pit, where Hauk had knelt down and set to work with a flint and steel.

She spread the woolen blanket across the sand. The material was worn from years of use, felt soft as she sat down, tucking her bare feet beneath her. “Hauk, what did you mean when you said, ‘we have become almost too peaceful’?” She looked up at the gentle waterfall. “How could it be possible for Asgard to become
too
peaceful?”

“Because you
utlending
keep extending the boundaries of your world and coming closer to ours.” His voice became somber. “For six hundred years we have been safe here. Few ships ever venture into these northern waters—but with each passing century, your people build bigger and stronger ships, and explore farther into the unknown reaches of the world.” The fire sparked and flared to life. “Someday the outsiders will find us.”

Avril felt a shiver go through her at the hollow certainty in his voice.

“And we have become so accustomed to peace rather than war,” he continued, the glow of the flames accenting the hard set of his jaw, “that we may not be able to defend ourselves when that day finally comes.”

Avril thought of the kind, amiable people in town, of little Marta and her family, of Josette and Keldan, and her heart clenched. She knew that the violent men of her world—the lords and princes and kings—would not hesitate to wage war to lay claim to this place.

“You have to do whatever you can to protect yourselves,” she blurted. “You have to... to raise an army—”

“Build a fleet of warships? Give everyone weapons and teach them to kill? That would destroy the very way of life we are trying to protect.” He gazed out at the waters of the cove, glassy and black in the darkness. The mast of his
knorr
was just visible in the distance, outlined by the moonlight. “The time may come when I am forced to recommend that, but for now I have argued that we should change some of our traditions, such as the Claiming voyage. Because every time we venture out—”

“You risk having someone follow you home.”

He nodded, glancing toward her. “And in these times, with so many people crowding your world, we must be more cautious than ever about remaining hidden here. We must take greater care to protect Asgard’s secret.” A look of regret came into in his eyes. “At all costs.”

Avril held his gaze, understanding as she never had before why it was so vitally important to him that none of the captive brides leave Asgard.

Including her.

He had not kept her from returning to Giselle because he was unkind or uncaring; he cared a great deal.

But he also cared deeply for his people.

“So that is why you are the only one who leaves anymore,” she said quietly.

He came over to sit next to her on the blanket, declined the water flask she offered and picked up the wine. “It is my duty to keep watch on the
utlending
, so that if necessary, we can take up arms.” He took a long drink. “I observe their ports and their ships. Gather what news I can. Listen for word of explorers who might travel in this direction.”

A chill chased down her spine. “But you said that you cannot survive away from Asgard—”

“Not for more than six days. My voyages are, by necessity, short. And I go only two or three times a year. But it is a risk I must take.”

Her heart thudded at the danger he was placing himself in. “And if something were to happen to you while you were on one of these expeditions—”

“Away from the island, we do not have its healing protection. In Antwerp, two of our party were killed.”

The pain in his voice brought a sharp ache to the center of her chest. “Hauk, I am sorry. It must be difficult to lose friends you have known so long.”

He did not reply for a moment, the rush of the waterfall and the crackling of the fire filling the silence.

“They were young,” he said gruffly. “Too young to listen when I told them what the dangers would be. Too eager. We only undertake the Claiming voyage every thirty years, when a new generation has come of age.”

“Like Keldan.”

“Aye, like Keldan.” A rueful grin tugged at his mouth. “He wanted to go on the last voyage, but the elders refused because he was only twenty, barely more than a boy.” Hauk’s smile faded. “He has waited a long time for his bride.”

Avril saw concern in his expression and it troubled her. “Do you not think Keldan and Josette will be happy together?”

He set the flask aside and stood, walking toward the edge of the cove, the ocean breezes ruffling his hair. “They will be fine. She will be very happy. As will their children.”