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The Elder learned to disguise themselves when walking among our kind almost from the first, for long ago the Black Land was not merely a spent myth and all who lived in its lengthening shadow learned to mistrust every stranger—beast, bird, or otherwise.
The fire crackled, and the blue heart to the flames meant it had to beaelflame; I had never seen its like. He was doing a fine job of coaxing it to fullness.
Now that I had seen, it was impossible to miss. The restless grace, the seeming youth and strange restraint, a powerful recipe for amedicinal potion—it was a saga, a story, a myth come to impossible breathing life just before me.
One might expect one withseidhrto take such an event calmly. But so far from home, cold and unnerved, I had the urge to shoutfishgutsor something much stronger before fleeing into the darkness with Arn at my shoulder. Near Dun Rithell I could have escaped wherever I chose, but there was no palisade here, no outer wall, no greathall with corridors familiar as my own fingers, no green or Stone or well-worn paths to Idra’s cottage or the closest farms. Even the sheep-grazing hills would have been welcome, and better than this.
I had to stay placed precisely where I was, all but shaking with… what? Was it fear?
The Northerners had to know, for they treated the youth with great honor. No wonder he bore a blade—the stories said Elder did not suffer many mortal prohibitions, which meant anyseidhrhe had would not go astray, nor warrior’s virtue be drained by such an act.
“Sol?” Arn, softly, her breath brushing my cheek. Hopefully they thought me wrung dry by the effort of lighting their campfire. I shook my head; her short exhalation in reply said she knew I would speak upon it later, when we were as alone as could be managed. They had given us barely enough space to attend our bladders all day, and would no doubt hem us closely as we traveled farther north.
I cannot lie, I was then deeply glad that my father had sent me instead of Bjorn or Astrid, who had neither weirding nor shieldmaid for protection. Yet cold fear burrowed into my bones as well.
It is one thing to hear stories, sagas, tales. It is another to see a… I could not even call Aeredh’s ear malformed, for it looked perfectly natural, even more so than a man of my own kind’s. I stared at the fire instead, straining my hearing to its utmost.
But their conversation simply sputtered into commonplaces in the southron tongue, and few enough of those. Aeredh—oh, he was no youth—beckoned us closer to the fire, now blue at the base but fringed into cheerful yellow at the top. “Aelflame,” he said, cheerfully, and I suppressed a start. “I am a traditionalist; I stack its house in the oldest way I know. Yours is much more direct.”
It was twice he had complimented a piece of myseidhr, but nowI suspected it no true praise. My throat was dry, but I had to make some answer. “Your way must be old indeed, my lord.”
“A habit may begin at any age.” But he glanced sharply at Arn, who had gone still, her gaze roving the camp. “And old as I may be, I have never met a shieldmaid before.” He slowed for the word as if it was unfamiliar. “You are sacred to the Wingéd Ones, then? Thevalkyrja?”
“Taken by them.” Arn’s chin rose. She did not bother to glance in his direction, her gaze circling the rest of the men as if she suspected them of ill intent. “And sworn. Where Solveig goes, I go.”
“So it seems.” He moved slightly, a graceful ripple like a granary cat waiting at a rathole, and settled a reasonably large chunk of wood upon the fire. The flames ran up its sides, veining eerily and refusing to be snuffed by such a large mouthful. “You will meet no insult among us, but much curiosity.”
“I am glad to hear it.” I cut off whatever reply Arn might have made, for I could tell by her expression it would not be conciliatory. “You must admit this is a… a strange situation. Even for Northerners.”
“Even for…” Aeredh’s pale eyes danced, and he threw back his dark head, laughing. The sound was pleasant enough, especially with the firelight taking on some of its accustomed warmth.
The merriment drew notice; we were eyed with some interest. But Eol had reappeared, and the two men with him carried a hunter’s cargo—winter coneys, lean but still toothsome, already field-dressed. Arn finally shook her head, digging under her mantle; it was no use, for I was certain the aleskin was already dry.
“I have not heard you laugh so in a long while, my friend.” In the Old Tongue, the man with the gem-hilted sword sounded pleased and interested, instead of halting and grim. I could not catch sight ofhisears, for the light was failing, but I did not think him like Aeredh.
“The lady thinks this a strange situation, even for Northerners.” The Elder—for I could not call himboyoryouthnow—chuckled again, shaking his head. “Your pardon, my lady Solveig; I have merely repeated your words. The North may seem dour, yet you will cheer it, methinks.”
I could not begin to answer. AnElder, speaking to Eril’s daughterand her shieldmaid. It was like a saga, except what happens later in those is generally uncomfortable or outright fatal, and I was not quite sure I would like a comedic tale better. The pursuit of knowledge was all very well, yet at that moment I was badly shaken. I wanted to be home, making certain traders respected Dun Rithell, restraining Bjorn’s bullock-stamping, brewing cures or experiments in the stillroom, and roaming the fringes of the winter woods for certain components.
Not to mention being accosted by everyone within sight who had a grudge or wished a fortune told, and would seek to bargain for such an effort.I will pay you,volva; tell me your price.
Eol shrugged. “Does she know us so well, then?” He did not share his friend’s amusement; some of his wolf-stamped men murmured to each other and no few laughed, though far more softly than Aeredh. Still, their captain—for so he seemed to be, though no doubt the Elder was the true leader—halted, and gave a slight bow in my direction. “You need not fear, my ladyalkuine. Our people were once one, and you will be held in high honor among us and our friends.” He glanced at Aeredh, no doubt curious whether I had noticed what they traveled with.
Perhaps it would be best if he thought me unaware. Or stupid, though it irked me much to be considered so.
Never tell all you know, Idra always said. And though ’twas likely I would learn much that could benefit Dun Rithell in the North and anyvolvalikes such a prospect, I did not enjoy their dark hints.
So I nodded and gave the most pleasing smile I could, though I have not Astrid’s gift for such an expression, and held fast to Arn’s arm. She did not relax, but then, neither did I.
So we passed our first evening in the company of Northerners. For all their quiet, they ate well; along with coney stew there was sweetish, unfamiliar dried fruit and waybread with a peculiar melting consistency, taken from what seemed like waxed cloth but was actually large, broad leaves from some plant or tree I had never encountered before.
I could not decide if I wished to see the living bearer of such foliage, though I was somewhat certain I would before the year-and-day of weregild was over.
Notice Enough
Those thevalkyratake are mighty, and quick to anger. Swift do they strike and little use have they for men who are not dead heroes; to be a shieldmaid is to stand apart.
—Harald the Skald
