“Not unless you slip on it.”
He laughs, relieved that he can keep his artifacts. Men… Treasure, women, and honor—all that matters to them.
“And the hammer?” I ask.
“Go ahead,” he says.
I grab the handle.
Instantly a shock runs through my body, making me go rigid. So cold. So cold it’s all blue. Icy blue. I’m sucked into the earth. Beneath the mountains. Beyond the borders. My vision goes black.
A woman, crouching on the ground. Black cloth covers her eyes. She doesn’t need them to see the world. Her bloodied arms are rummaging through animal guts, violently shoving around the steaming innards.
She straightens her back, surprised, before turning in my direction. She points straight at me.
“There you are,” she rasps, her smile showing broken teeth.
I try to leave, escape, but my mind is bogged down. Stuck in this tainted vision. The horrid woman laughs, a shrill, cutting sound that invades me from all angles.
“Stupid slut. Do your part. Bring him. It wants him back.”
She splays her fingers, sending a wave of energy crashing over me. Shaking, I fall backward. My head will smash into the floor, but my arms refuse to move.
Sigurd stops my fall.
He speaks but his voice is muffled, distant.
I raise my head, back in reality. A heavy fog is lifted. Surprisingly, I feel fine. I’m not exhausted, not even tired, and I’m not… dead.
“By Odin,” I say as I stand.
“What happened?” says Sigurd worriedly. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, thank you. I’m fine.”
“What did you see?”
“I saw…”
I hesitate. The lynx necklace was easy to describe. I had no fear of sharing that experience with Sigurd. But now, a seed of doubt is planted. My part? What if I am accused of evil? How will Sigurd understand? What does he know?
“I saw ravens,” I lie, “I saw ravens.”
CHAPTER 42
Laughter shakes the walls, followed by giggles and chatter. Good humor fills my new house. A brilliant idea. My thrall friends are sitting or lying about, enjoying cups of ale and the softness of furs beneath them. Eidunn cooked another magical stew. Our ale is flavored with meadowsweet. Good food and drink have cast some mystical spell over the girls, making them boisterous and rowdy. At least a dozen bodies fill the space.
Repressing a chuckle of my own, I raise my hands for attention. One last line is needed to complete my raunchy story.
“And so, as he was walking out her door, still pulling up his pants, she smacked him on the ass and said, ‘Now leave my sheep alone!’”
An explosion of laughter. Drying of tears. They gasp for breath. Perhaps we are a little drunk, but I’m sure Sigurd willforgive his new Volva. These girls work hard. They are loyal. A night of release will only boost their morale. Besides, I need to drown the tingling unease from my vision earlier.
“Better the sheep than us!” announces Ausveig as she holds a finger in the air.
Some girls signal agreement, but Sifrid jumps to her feet.
“A good shearing never hurt a sheep. Likewise, a good shagging never hurt a girl!”
