Rainbow Heart
By: K.E. Rodgers
Smashwords Edition
****
Published By:
K.E. Rodgers on Smashwords
Copyright © July 2010
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased is coincidental and should be seen as such.
Prologue: The Creation of Ljoseilifurgard (Land of Eternal Light)
Life began when fire and ice collided; the combustion of eternal energy that swept the world in bitter cold and burning fire to create the land we know and see today. To the north lies the land of ice; Isgar. The earth is packed with craggy shards of ice and sweeping frigid snow. There in the high valley at the crux of winter’s weather is the great Stone Mountain, where from the ancient crevices leaks the waters which flows to form the rivers of life. Before, the rivers flowed into nothingness; a vast and empty void of barren wasteland.
In the south lies the land of smoke and fire called Brunkjar. The flickering lights of an eternal flame that will outlive the oldest of mankind. They dance and stretch across the hot earth and only those who are born of the fires can endure the flames. At the far edge of the fiery ring sits the Hera af Bruni, the Lord of Fire. He brandishes the Suero af Brun, the Sword of Fire and waits expectantly for the end when he will rise and savage the gods, consuming the world in an eternal blanket of fire.
In the vast void of desolate soil a seed was laid to rest by unknown hands. Nothing grew in this land and a crust of thick, dense ice quickly formed over the soil where the seed was planted. Yet life, even in the vast void of nothingness cannot be held back, ascending forth from the harshest of environments. A tree grew from this nothingness to rise up and create life. But it was weak and frail, bombarded constantly by the winter weather from the north and the hot acrid breath of fire and smoke from the south. In spite of this the tree endured.
The gods took notice of this inspiring sight, finding the struggle of this solitary tree worthy of their interest. Redirecting the flow of the rivers they allowed it to run around the tree and through the once vast wasteland turning the soil rich with nutrients from the Great Stone Mountain. The energy of the rivers became the energy of the tree. When the tree obtained enough water it pushed forth from its heavy branches offerings of great beauty to thank the gods for their blessing. Thick glossy leaves and perfumed flowers burst forth from the high branches. The gods were so pleased that they shone down the light from above so that all could see the beauty of the tree.
And soon another miracle took place. From the thick bark on the base of the tree sweet sap leaked and formed itself into a different form of life. It was a creature unlike the tree in form, but like the tree it needed constant nourishment of water and light to survive. The tree then formed from its bouquet of flowers fruits and nuts that the new creature might eat and live. The creature was named woman and when she ate of the tree of life the seeds were planted inside her womb for the creation of all of human kind. And so life began from nothing into a world of beauty of land and of thriving humanity.
The sun shines bright most of the year so that the gods may see the beauty that they helped to create. Long days and short nights so that all may bask in the great land of the eternal light. And the great tree that began the cycle of life for this world remains, proud and strong, resting in a quiet corner in an open garden in the far eastern shores. There it will remain until the end of this time.
***
Loka Stridi – Final War af Ljoseilifurgard
The twelve nations of Ljoseilifurgard invested forty three years of their history to the forces of war and battle. Old friendships were dissolved and new alliances made so that in the end the strength of victory would fall into the right hands. But whether you fall on the side of victor or conquered, the lay of the world is changed forever by the actions of both sides.
As the war came to a final cadence the spoils of the victors were handed out reshaping the land in the process. From this the idea emerged to form the Gaeta Wall so that those on the side of the western allies could push out the eastern resistance, keeping those who would usurp their authority far from their homes and children. And so the Gaeta Wall was built bisecting the land and creating two nations from a single country.
Years passed and the wall remained a permanent fixture on the land. In the haste of its construction it fractured a nation, separating families and communities in the process. No one who was not of legal authority could cross the threshold onto the other side. To do so would cause the sure death of those that foolishly tried.
And so time passed as it must and with it talk of final unity. Absolution was at hand for the eastern shores who had threatened a nation. For them to obtain forgiveness would require a contract binding them with the western allies. In the affairs of diplomatic nations, no stronger contract can be made than that of the contract of marriage. No surer way to unify a nation than to unify it with the bodies of its most treasured leaders. A son of the west would marry a daughter of the east and through them a nation would be united.
***
Orusta af Stolt (Battle of Pride)
Eastern Nation – Fjalverja
Capital City – Laeradberg
In the Valley of Rings, a good two days journey from the capital city, men lay out on the thick green grasses like fallen trees, their roots cut out from under them and their life giving sap leaking from the cracks on their broken branches. It was a sight not unfamiliar to the all seeing eyes of this land. The final battle had ended years earlier, but still small skirmishes between the people happened almost daily. Hostility was thick like fog in the air, clouding good judgment and blinding the people from ever becoming a united country again.
When the Gaeta Wall had been erected it had left a nation barely able to survive. For those on the Eastern border, the losing side, they were left at the mercy of the six surrounding nations. Their strength was waning, but their influence was still strong. The citizens of the Eastern shore were divided even among each other as to where they saw their loyalties. Some wanted unity with the victorious Western Nation who had erected the wall while others saw themselves loyal to the Eastern Nations who they had sided with during the war. All of this was coming to head as talk of an alliance between the Eastern and Western shores was now in its final hearings. Soon a decision would be made and perhaps in the end a divided country would find itself united once again.
Yet happiness does not come easily and the road to a united country was paved with the bodies of its slain people. These casualties would continue as long as the future of the Eastern Nation was up in the air. The Eastern Nation, known as Fjalverja, a name derived from the protecting mountains that surrounded the Eastern borders, hadn’t seen peace and prosperity in decades and the land itself reflected the strife. After the final battle, instead of picking up the pieces and rebuilding, much of the devastation left from battle remained overgrowing with vegetation and decay. Neglect and hardship were calling cards of Fjalverja. The people suffered greatly while those on the Western shore of Sigurheim, which translated to victory, knew nothing of their struggle. And it was because of this that the weakened leaders of the Eastern Nation finally sought the much needed protection from their once hated other half.
Kári Haldis stood over one of her men as he lay in the sweet smelling grass inhaling his last breaths of cold air. He would die today for his own treachery and deceit. In the end most if not all men were deceitful and underhanded; they couldn’t be trusted. He had thought to guide her and her followers into the valley where she and her companions could be taken unawares.
Kári was not stupid or easily fooled by the machinations of mere men. She was the true daughter of the Allfather. Many tried to claim parentage, but only she could speak with truth in her voice. Born of a human mother and the almighty deity, she was the embodiment of the gifts of humanity and the strengths and weaknesses of the gods. But it was her human step-father she had followed in the end, much to the disappointment of her mother. They were both gone from this world now, and she was left to pick up the pieces of a nation that was fast crumbling beneath her feet.
“I knew you would be weak in the end, Brokk.” Kári placed the toe of her leather boot against his pale cheek and pushed causing his head to turn and a groan to escape from his dry and cracked lips. “You would have turned us over to the rebels if given the chance. And for what, a few coins in your pocket and the gloating rights? It isn’t enough that I feed and clothe you, you feel the need to betray me to these vultures.”
Kári felt the anger inside her grow. She was her father’s daughter in that respect with a temper that could blow hot as the fires of Brunkjar or cold as an Isgar winter weather. Right now she was blowing hot under the collar. The rebels in Fjalverja cared nothing for politics, only finding the disrepair of the country a perfect breeding ground to fester their greed. She was a political figure, a princess in her own right as her step-father, a cousin to the Western King, had reigned in the Eastern providence before the final battle took him from this world. Now what was left of her country was ruled over by her mother’s only brother, Ragnarr Solveig. He had only managed such a position because he had secured himself in the good graces of the Western Nation. At this time he was trying to mend the fracture between the divided countries by aligning himself through marriage. The rebels, who were being strung along with hopes of coin, were being fed false lies to encourage them to hand members of the royal family like Kári over to the Eastern Nations as traitors to the cause.
“Your family is weak and selfish. You would align yourself with those western dogs so that you and yours can have fine furs and large homes. What of our suffering?” Brokk’s chest moved slowly with his words and some of them slurred painfully out of his mouth. “Nothing will change for us except that we will have a Western prince to push our faces in the mud and steal the food from the mouths of our children. It was our families blood spilt, not yours. Our lives sacrificed and your family would throw it in our faces to align with the Western Nations.” He spat blood on her shoe.
He received a swift and brutal kick to his ribs. Brokk groaned pitifully in response. Leaning down beside him on the blood stained grass, she starred down into the face of one of her people. He had lost hope in his leaders. When that happened it was only a matter of time before others would sway his attention and loyalties. Right now the Eastern Nations felt threatened that if an alliance with her country took place then the strength of their power was truly gone and they would fall as swiftly as the crumbling wall.
“Do you see me in a fine house with furs and drink?” she questioned him, bitter anger in her voice. She hadn’t been home to see her family in years. Once she had left to go after her father all those years back, she had never returned, not even after his death. She had broken her ties with her family on the eve of her departure. What they did was of no concern to her. But her identity as a royal family member was still a risk to herself and her companions which was why she kept herself clothed as a man. In the thick of battle most never got close enough to detect the soft curves and angelic face that could only belong to a woman.
Kári clasped his waxy face with her long graceful fingers forcing him to look at her. “Do you see me sitting in a fine large home? No. I have no more than any of you and yet you would betray my trust and that of your brothers in arms to the Eastern Nations who care nothing about you or your family. All the Red Rebels care about is greed and apparently that is all you care about. I have sacrificed much for this country. More than you can ever know.”
Brokk wrenched his face from her grasp and stared out into the Valley of Rings. It was named such because of the strange rings made by mounds of earth and some believed that they transported persons to other worlds. Brokk was superstitious enough to believe that it could be true. The Red Rebels and his own men lay on the ground unmoving. He felt a moment of pity for the men he had sacrificed, but it was their own fault for following this Princess of Lies. She had led them to this fate, not he. Brokk knew he would follow them into the land of shadow and mist soon enough.
“I will go to the next world with a smile on my face knowing that soon enough you might join me, princess.” A smile curved his mouth, drawing up the corners in a macabre death smile. With a faint flutter of his eye lashes, he was gone from this world.
Kári knew when Brokk’s andi, spirit, had departed from his body. She felt it like a cold breeze passing across her skin. She clutched at the tiny charm held on a thin chain around her neck. It was a tiny heart shaped diamond forged from the Great Stone Mountain and held within it a piece of the Bifrost, the rainbow bridge that led into the land of the gods. Given to her by the Allfather himself so that at any time she might venture into their domain, it was a gift not to be ignored. It was also the only artifact she had to remind her of her true father.
She bent her head over the deceased man and prayed for his immortal soul, though it was more than the leech deserved after what he had done to them. It had only been by the strength of her men and the luck bestowed upon her by the Allfather that at least a few of her followers had come out of the skirmish alive. Every day their numbers seemed to diminish until one day she was sure there would only be her-self left to count.
Rising up from the ground she surveyed the landscape, finding her close companions standing together lost in deep conversation. Eymundr spied her across the vast valley and gestured for her to join them. With her impressive height it was difficult to miss her. It was yet another disguise that helped to keep the truth of her gender from her enemies. Sweeping her sun-kissed blonde hair over her shoulders she made her way to the two people she trusted most in this world.
***
Hin Feroast - The Journey
The ride to the capital city, Laeradberg, was now a two days ride by primitive means. At the moment that was all that was left to them. The once great cities of the east had fallen into disrepair after the final battle; leaving them to molder and decay by the elements of nature. A strong animal, the hross was needed to move the able bodies of the followers on their now nine month journey home. Those who could not continue were left along the way. It was cruel at times, but a necessary sacrifice.
“What do you think your family is going to say when they see you?” Finnr spoke up as he came up alongside of Kári, his hross breathing heavily in the chilly northern air.
Several inches shorter than Kári, with deep red hair and cheeks that blushed crimson when he was agitated, Finnr made up for his lack of height with girth and muscles. Only the foolish challenged such a man and lived to regret his blunder.
He was from a family of dream-speakers, those that could walk freely in the dream world and speak to the Norns, the weavers of fate who did much of their work or mischief while the unsuspecting humans slept. He was also a valued and dear friend of the Haldis family. Finnr was all that was left of his family’s lineage; a solitary branch in his family tree.
Kári turned to look over at him, a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes plastered on her beguiling and youthful face. That innocent and naïve looking face belied the aged creature inside. While she might appear to be a young woman, she was in fact many years older than that. A gift from her father was the extension of her life’s threads.
“They will say ‘who are you’ and ‘get off my land’,” Kári remarked with a sour note in her lyrical voice.
Finnr’s thick eyebrows drew together in a sympathetic frown. “You don’t know that for sure, Kári.” His voice, unlike hers, was deep and sometimes his unusual accent confused the others with its odd cadence. She had been around him long enough now to never have such difficulty.
The Black Woods was fast approaching them and soon they would be immersed in the thickness. It was said that strange creatures inhabited the dense foliage and that the unwary traveler could easily become lost in them. The stories of the forest creatures were told as bedtime stories to youngsters to get them to sleep at night. No grown-up would think to be frightened of the woods. However, even grown-ups can easily fall into the lure of superstitious folklore.
Eymundr came up on the other side, taking his place on Kári’s right side. They thought they were sly in their tactics, positioning themselves protectively around their princess. But Kári was aware of this maneuver, yet she didn’t reprimand them. Though she was more than capable of defending herself should someone be foolish enough to try to attack, she had to admit that some small part of her felt comforted by the protective gesture. Growing up the step-daughter of a proud Viking lord and the eldest child of a strong-willed mother, she was reared to never allow someone else to manage her life. It was the only way she knew how to survive.
“I for one will be glad to be home so I can finally sleep in a real bed instead of the cold hard ground.” Eymundr remarked wistfully. He asked for little in life. All he needed or wanted was a soft warm bed to wallow in. Sleeping was his favorite hobby other than fighting and he had perfected the art to a tee. However, he rarely got to engage in this treasured activity. In a land turned on its side from battle and enemies constantly tailing their every move, sleep was dangerous. “What I wouldn’t give for a feather tick and blankets that aren’t scratchy and worn.” He closed his eyes imagining the feel of soft fabric against his body.
Eymundr was of equal height with Kári, but unlike Finnr his build was sinewy rather than bulky. His hair was black as the midnight sky with streaks of glossy silver. The silver was a hereditary trait from his mother and her family and was a mark of divine wisdom. Both he and Finnr were of the peasant or working class, a station to which most of the country’s population resided in. For that reason, neither carried a last name. If not for the influence of the Norns, the three paths of these individuals would have never crossed.
“You talk as if you’re thinking of a woman.” Finnr said with a chuckle, revealing dimples in his round face.
“For me they’re one and the same. What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get home, Kári?” As he asked the question, he noticed Finnr shaking his head at him in disapproval.
Kári clutched the reigns of her hross tightly in her gloved hands. She rarely thought about the capital city as home any more. It had been so long since she thought of calling any place home; such a concept was almost foreign to her vocabulary. Her family knew nothing of this return journey with what remained of the war party she had left with many years earlier. For all they knew she was dead and buried as her step-father and mother now were. It was a reasonable assumption after they had stopped receiving correspondence. The reason for that was the person who had thought to keep the family abreast of Kári’s whereabouts and the state of her health had died on a quiet field two years earlier from a plague that had swept through her followers. Now they were in for a massive surprise when the prodigal son – in this case daughter – returned to them. Would they forgive her last words to them or would they throw her out on her ass as she deserved?
Kári squelched a momentary weakness to cry as the image of her younger sister flashed into her head. She had been a toddler just learning to walk, stumbling around furniture and falling down regularly onto her padded behind. By now she would be a woman full grown with no memory of her older sister, merely a ghost to her; a faint recollection with no face or history to warrant tender feelings for.
Sefa Haldis was Kári’s half sister through their mother and the legitimate heir to the Eastern Nation. As Kári was the product of a deity and a mortal woman, her odd conception was not legitimized in the eyes of her people. Even though her step-father, Sefa’s father, accepted her as his daughter, it was not enough to please the countries politicians who were suspicious of a woman who could claim the Allfather as her true father. The Allfather didn’t step in to change their minds, nor did her step-father, who despite his usual aggressive and independent nature let the doubts of his political followers to decide the fate of his step-daughter. If not for her mother’s interference, who was a princess in her own right from one of the once ally Western Nations, Kári would have been banished or sent to live with her father in the frozen north.
In two days time she would either see shining and happy faces or faces full of mistrust or even worse apathy. It was on them now to welcome her back into the fold of family love or eject her back into a cold and broken world.
Kári sighed outwardly, causing a breath of warm air from her body to escape her mouth which circled and wavered around her head catching light so that it twinkled and shone like an iridescent crown over her hair. Her eyes, which flashed a royal blue color when she was agitated or bright and icy on the rare occasions when she was happy, looked as deep and fathomless as the great northern seas. Kári closed her long blonde lashes, hiding the deep anguish in her eyes from her dear companions.
Several quite seconds ticked by with no interference from the two men who sat diligently on their hrosses beside her. They knew better than to interfere during one of her moments. These times happened rarely, but even still, when she was lost in her own head, it was best for all to let her work it out without them.
Only moments later, she finally opened her eyes and for the entire world to see Kári looked like a calm and content young woman. But the truth of her pain was never far from her companions minds. Both men wondered constantly if returning home was the best thing for her despite their own hopes of returning.
Finnr knew only so much about Kári’s last days with her family before they had set out to follow in the path of her step-father. Bergr Haldis had been a hard man, one whose own stubbornness and at times pigheaded behavior put himself and his family in hot water. In spite of this his step-daughter had adored him and more importantly respected his decisions. When word had reached them that most of his followers had been taken down by enemy troops and news of his own mortally wounded body had reached the ears of the family, it was she who had gone out after him. Harsh words had been exchanged and then she had left them all behind expecting, in the heat of her anger, to never return to them again.
Kári’s mother, Ósk, slipped from this world several months later, dying from the effects of a crushed heart at losing both her husband and a daughter in such a short time. The family had managed to get this news to her eldest daughter while she was on the move west toward her father’s camp. It was a crushing blow to both the family and the entire country. When Kári had finally reached the side of her step-father his injuries seemed far worse than when she had been told of them through his messenger. Upon informing him of his wife’s demise, Bergr quickly found the world and his once treasured cause unimportant in light of her death. He left this world to join his beloved wife in the world of mist and shadows, leaving behind the daughter who had risked everything to come and save him.
Finnr had stood beside her as she held the hand of the only father she had ever known in this world. She didn’t cry as he expected any normal woman or even man would under the burden of a loved one’s coming death. Kári remained un-effected as the light of life dimmed in the great warrior’s eyes. In the last seconds of his life he whispered the name of his most beloved and then was gone. With her step-father and mother’s unexpected deaths, this woman who gave the world the impression that she was without weakness was left alone in the world. Only in her dreams did she let her weaknesses show.
“I’m going to have a warm shower,” Kári managed with a little humor in her voice. “That’s the first thing I’m going to do when we get to Laeradberg. I smell worse than my hross or possibly a troll and that is defiantly saying something.”
Eymundr leaned over and took in a great whiff of air. He scrunched his broad nose in response causing both Finnr and Kári to laugh because of the repugnant look on his face.
“You’re right; you do have a rather strong odor about you.” Then he lifted his left arm and smelled himself. He quickly drew back, blinking his eyes rapidly trying to get the sting out of them. “But I have to say, I smell a whole lot worse.”
Finnr reached his own arm across Kári, extending it toward Eymundr. “Smell me. I bet I smell much worse.”
Eymundr gave a tentative sniff of his friends arm, drawing back as he shook his head in the negative. “No, my friend, I have to say that I smell the worst. See this hair,” he said, pointing to his midnight locks, “When we first started out, it was as blonde as Kári’s, now it’s so dirty you’d think it was naturally this color.”
Not to be shown up by his friend, Finnr raised his bulky arms in the air showing off his muscular figure. “You see these muscles; you’d think that after living off of weak soup and stale bread that I’d be as skinny as a rail. I’m really a bean pole and all this girth is simply built up dirt and grime.”
“You think that’s something,” Eymundr contradicted with a great show as he brought up his right booted foot. “There is so much muck between my toes that a small tree has started growing on my big toe.”
“Big deal,” Finnr scoffed. “I’ve been growing a forest on my toes for weeks now. Your puny tree is nothing compared to the acreage I’ve got.”
“My legs look like the Black Woods in the spring time,” Kári interjected causing both men to look at her curiously and with obvious frowns.
“I find that hard to believe, princess,” Eymundr said, addressing her as princess in a sarcastic voice. “Even if you wallowed in the mud for months you’d still smell like sunshine and roses. You’re just not normal that way.”
“I agree, princess.” Finnr added, taking up using the title as well, “You don’t have the character that we do to get to the level of stink that we aspire to. In the sport of competitive rankness you are most definitely on amateur status.”
“It seems men stick together, even in stink competitions.” Kári looked from Finnr to Eymundr who shook their head in the affirmative at her statement. “That figures. Well then I suggest when you both get home that each of you takes a week long bath and have someone take an ax to your overgrown feet forests. And until we do reach Laeradberg, I suggest that neither one of you take off your boots. Let’s keep the infestation of whatever gnarly creatures are growing inside them away from our camp as we can’t possible survive another plague.”
“I felt the icy rancor of those words like a chill running down my back,” Eymundr remarked with a half grin. “I think the tree on my big toe just wilted a little.”
“I’m glad you can find comedy at this time. I only hope that you can keep up your jollity once we’re deep inside the Black Woods.”
“You’re not scared of the Black Woods, are you?” Finnr questioned, knowing without uncertainty that she would never admit to such a weakness.
“Scared, no, concerned for my followers, yes. There are more than just fantastical creatures in the Black Woods. We are easy targets for the Red Rebels or anyone who would think it great sport to attack a defeated band of the Eastern army.”
They said nothing more as the small stragglers of a once great army formed a long chain as they made their way into the Black Woods. Once they reached the clearing beyond the woods it would be only a short ride to the capital gates. Nine months of wandering and it would all be over soon, a deep thicket of trees was all that stood in their way.
***
Hin Skógr (The Forest)
Aõalríkr Torvald stood next to his hross in a bright clearing in the Black Woods. It was the first he had seen the sun light in several hours. The canopy of trees obscured the land so that one was almost able to believe that the land existed in eternal night. He breathed in the fresh air of the forest as he brushed down his animal while he allowed it to rest. Patting it affectionately he forced it to wander off to a nearby stream.
With a great puff of agitated exhalation he sat down on the soft earth near a large moss covered boulder. Aõalríkr rested his head back against the cold stone, closing his eyes for a moment. He just wanted to be alone for a few minutes so he could think over what he had hastily agreed to do for his father and their political allies. For them it wasn’t such a great sacrifice and in their defense his lot in life was a lot better than most.
But who was he kidding? He’d rather he were the poorest beggar or fish-monger than the husband to an Eastern Nation princess. Regardless of the fact that at one time there had been only one nation and what now was called the Eastern Nation had been a small providence in a larger country, the Eastern Nation and their culture was as different from his own as night and day.
His own father had been cousins with the self-professed king and now deceased father of the daughter to whom he was set to marry. Her mother was a princess from one of the Western ally Nations. The providence had sided with the six Eastern Nations with the ideal that when Bergr Haldis defeated his cousin and their allies, he would be ruler over the country. It hadn’t worked out as he planned and Aõalríkr knew his father had lost a once dear friend in the process.
Now the countries would be united and Aõalríkr was to be the sacrifice to see that his father and their associate’s aspirations for the nations went as planned. The woman who held his future in her hands was professed to be a beauty with a docile and gentle disposition. In truth he couldn’t care what she looked like or how amicably she behaved. All that mattered was that she and her uncle agree to this marriage and join their nations. Their children would end the skirmishes raging in the Eastern border and unify the people under one ruling house. That was the plan at least, but even the best laid plans cracked under pressure. Right now that plan was riding hard under the heels of the Red Rebels from the east.
The Red Rebels followed under the code of the Crescent Moon whose beliefs contradicted those of the Western Stars that Aõalríkr, his father, and the Western allies followed. A band of them had traveled through the country during the Final War and though most of them had disbanded or returned to the Eastern Nations, some of them remained to cause trouble in the Eastern shores and sometimes tried to infiltrate the Western shores through the Gaeta Wall.
Aõalríkr looked down at his hand which only days before had been covered in the red gore of some hapless Red Rebel who had gotten too close to his Suero to deserve to live. He had been trained as a first class leikn. All Aõalríkr knew of this world and all he saw was covered in the scares of battle and death. His father had groomed him to be a warrior. Growing up during war times, he was too young to remember a time when war between countries didn’t exist.
The almost quiet hiss of a Suero being extracted from its sheath was the only warning he got before he felt the cold steel against the warm flesh of his exposed neck. Perhaps under other circumstances Aõalríkr would have found the realization that someone could sneak up on his person so subtly and without giving themselves away comical. In all his years of existence in this world he could say without hesitation that this was the first time anyone had accomplished such.
Aõalríkr’s emerald green eyes remained closed as he reached for his own Suero which was lying just to his left side. As his hand moved to grasp it he felt the cold steel of his adversaries Suero bite into his flesh just enough to draw a small trickle of blood. He could feel the viscous liquid as it traveled down his throat into the collar of his fur lined skyrta.
“Move your hand back to your side or the blade of my Suero will be more than happy to extract your head from your shoulders. Just to let you know we have your company of men in safe keeping; for now at least. If they should happen to tie themselves into the trees then that’s no fault of ours.”
It seemed that luck had abandoned him during this trip to the east because not only was he being held by the sure and steady draw of a trained warrior he was doubly humiliated that that same warrior spoke with the lilting voice of a disir. Only someone with a close connection to the Allfather could have a voice such as her. He might have thought he was being blessed by the gods except for the fact that this disir wasn’t choosing him to be a great warrior for the Allfather, she was threatening to lop his head off.
Aõalríkr kept his hand still, neither moving it closer to his weapon or retreating his hand back to his side.
The female voice grunted with obvious disapproval. “You don’t listen very well do you?” He could detect her accent as being from an eastern province confirming his suspicion that she was a native to the Eastern Nation and not one of the displaced communities from the far western portion of the Eastern Shore. It was also clear that she spoke with a refined lilt in her voice that could only mean she was not of the peasant class.
Why then was she not at home sitting beside a roaring fire doing something meek and feminine like sewing or such? Why was she traveling with a band of defeated warriors through the Black Woods? The woods were dangerous enough during less hostile times; it was sure death for those unprepared for its strange occupants not least of which being the Red Rebels. Aõalríkr didn’t shy away from the task of traveling through the woods to reach his destination, but even he had been on edge the entire time he had been riding through the dark and dense foliage.
She was just a woman, Aõalríkr reminded himself and for that reason he would spare her precious life. It was then that he finally opened his eyes and gave this upstart of a woman the irritated glare that she deserved. His hostile façade cracked a little as he took in the sight before him. Standing as tall as a great tree, she made an impressive and almost intimidating sight as she glared down at him, her Suero outstretched and poised over his flesh.
Her long beautiful sun-kissed hair wouldn’t have given her gender away from afar as many of the eastern warriors wore their hair as long as she did. But this close to her he could see the face and figure of her revealed the vulnerability of her true sex. She wasn’t particularly beautiful. Over the years he had seen many a fairer face than hers, but it was the unique shape of her jaw and slight upturn of her deep blue eyes that flashed at him with an unholy light that made her entire person beguiling. There was a distinct radiance about her, like an elusive rainbow that hovered just over her form that softened the rougher edges of her personality and the stiff stance of her body. It was altogether enthralling, except again for the fact that she still held a Suero in her hand raised to strike him at any moment.
In the next moment he was on his feet. With a fluidity born of years of practice he was able to come out from a resting position into one of action with the speed of the gods. Aõalríkr was not easily taken down especially by a mere woman. She may have been well trained, but even so he knew he was superior in this craft.
Yet even with his superior skills there had been a moment when the steel of her Suero had almost cut more into his flesh as she had threatened to do. It took only a second to extract the Suero from her grasp with a sure tug as he threw it out of both of their reach. He almost smiled at the shocked expression on her face. Apparently being disarmed was a new concept for her.
Kári stepped back a pace as she found herself disarmed by a trained leikn. Her hands she braced at her sides away from her body, poised to defend herself with the fall back tactic of her hands and feet.
She had come upon this sleeping giant of a man minutes earlier when he had stopped to rest in the open clearing. She had watched him out of curiosity because right away she had recognized him as a man from the west. All men of the west wore long mantles that flowed about their bodies except for over their sword arm which they kept free from the cumbersome fabric. It was a protective measure and gave them a fierce look in battle.
His hair was a dark burnished color that caught the rays of light above the open clearing. It glowed like a royal halo above his head. Most curious of all was the fact that he was a good three inches taller than her, an unheard of possibility as far as she was concerned.
Then he had sprawled out on the ground, his head thrown back against a boulder and closed his eyes. In repose he looked more than beautiful. If she didn’t know better she would have sworn that he was a perfect recreation of the gods themselves. No mortal man she had seen in all of her existence could compare to the physical perfection of this man.
Wandering away from the safety of his company he had sought the solitude of the peaceful clearing. What few men he rode with had been easily overtaken by her followers and Kári had taken the initiative to seek out the leader of this western party.
Aõalríkr wiped at his neck feeling the small droplets of blood on his fingers. He frowned at her as he secured his Suero against his body. “Good day madam. Is it customary to draw blood of guests to the area or are you gifting me with special treatment?”
He was from the Western Nation and obviously a well trained warrior. His cultivated accent and expensively tailored attire easily gave his identity away. He was likely a very respectable figure in his country, a leader. Kári felt anger well up the realization that he might have been with the men responsible for her step-father’s death.
“You’re the last person I would give special treatment to. What are you doing so far from your own country? You do realize that you and your followers aren’t exactly well liked in this area?”
“By that little display,” he gestured to where her Suero lay quiet and still in the grass feet away from them, “I would say that you follow with the anti-western alliance.”
“I could care less about the alliance of the country,” she corrected him. “What else can the Western allies do to us? You can’t break what is already beyond repair.”
“Your cynicism reminds me of my father,” he said with a slight chuckle. Aõalríkr folded his heavily muscled arms over his chest. “You two would definitely not get along as the competition between you would stand in the way of your common beliefs. And what would a woman be doing wandering the Black Woods with a roughened band of warriors; surely your family wouldn't allow it? I find the idea of a woman warrior as ridiculous as a man who stays home and knits while his people are being slaughtered.”
The woman had the audacity to snort at him even though he was the one with the weapon.
“I thought you were a little dimwitted, now I know the truth. Your archaic generalization of my gender doesn’t take into account the reality that it’s you not I who has blood upon their collar.”
Aõalríkr took an aggressive step toward her, not sure what he intended to do to her. She was an impertinent woman and it was the first time anyone other than his mother or father had spoken to him in such a manner. It occurred to him then that she wasn’t aware of his status as governing prince and soon to be ruler over her country.
Whatever he had intended to do or say to this woman was halted by an unexpected surprise which took this opportunity to leap into the clearing. Álfr broke through the crop of trees, disturbing the foliage and animals in the area as he made his way toward them. A great beast in this form, his raised hackles showed his anger. Only a fool would try to engage this wolf right now.
Álfr was a shape-shifter, a rare and dying trait in this world. His true form was that of an average size man, but in the form of his other half, he was far larger in breath than the hrosses they traveled on.
The wolf came to crouch on all fours a few feet behind Kári. His large muzzle was drawn down and his eyes were alight with instant fury. Álfr’s snarl was eminent as he parted his jaws to reveal sharp and lethal looking teeth.
At once Kári’s spine stiffened; a subtle gesture, but not lost on both men. She knew that a great beast was standing but one leap away from her person and if she moved or made a gesture that he didn’t like she would quickly find herself in its more than capable jaws.
“It looks like you escaped from the pack, Álfr,” Aõalríkr noted with a smirk.
Álfr snarled in response, keeping his focus on the woman in front of him.
“I think we need to come to some kind of an agreement, madam.” Aõalríkr addressed her with a raise of his eyebrows. “Or none of us will leave this forest alive.”
***
Vindur af Sanleikur (Winds of truth)
“I didn’t know that shape-shifters existed anymore. I had assumed they all died out.”
Kári stood against the large trunk base of a nearby tree as she watched the dangerous predator as he morphed once more back into his human-like form. Giving him a measure of privacy, she turned her focus away from him as he walked over to the hross and retrieved an extra set of clothing.
“They have almost all died out,” Aõalríkr informed her as he handed over a set of boots to his friend. “Álfr is one of the last of his kind. People thought it would be great sport to hunt them and display them as trophies on their walls.”
“I’d like to stuff and hang that lug head who tried to put a hrosses bridle on me.” Álfr directed his rancor to Kári. “I assume you are with the party of men who attacked our prince’s guards.”
She nodded her head, looking to the tall man who stood quietly by his hross. He was the Western Prince everyone had been expecting for so long. And she had drawn his blood. An attack on a royal figure was an attack on the country. Kári felt a strange sickening feeling settle in her stomach. He could very well take this as a political attack and take out his anger on her followers.
“Do you understand the consequences of an attack on the royal family?” Álfr raged at her. He may be in his human-like form now, but the animal was still very much part of him. She wouldn’t be surprised if he came at her with bared teeth.
Aõalríkr interrupted. “You know this land well, madam, don’t you?” He came to stand just a few inches in front of her. “If you and your eastern party escort me and my guards to the Eastern capital city, then we will forget about what just transpired between you and me.”
“What makes you think I’m going to agree to take you to the capital? Only to have myself and my men turned over to the authorities once we arrive?” Kári folded her arms over herself in agitation. “I’m not an idiot, your highness, and despite what you might think of my weak gender I can more than easily take you and your furry friend down.”
He actually smiled showing gleaming white teeth and making his entire face shine like the morning light. Kári had to squelch an impulse to ogle the physical perfection of this Western Prince.
“More and more I am beginning to think you more reckless than the gods. I will not turn you or your followers over to the authorities. In fact this might be in your best interest. If the royal family knows that you’re escorting one of their own they might see fit to reward you.”
“I don’t accept bribes.”
Álfr snarled at her. “Then we kill you and your friends and have done with it so we can be on our way.”
“It’s your choice, madam. What fate do you choose for your fellow countrymen?” Aõalríkr questioned, his face turning serious.
Kári knew she was being stubborn and in light of this revelation she decided to make this work out in her favor. He was the chosen prince who would be the future king of the Eastern and Western nations as well as the husband to her only sister. She only wanted the best for her beloved baby sister and even though she had left her in the hands of her uncle all those years ago, she still felt the need to protect her.
“I will agree only on one condition,” she informed him haughtily.
“Aõalríkr, she’s mad,” Álfr shouted at his prince. “Who do you think you are to give demands to us?”
“I’m actually a friend of the royal family,” Kári lied. “I was a companion to the princess Sefa many years ago and I think of her as if she were my real sister.”
“Then you are aware of why I am traveling to the capital. I am here to make final negotiations with her uncle and guardian. So what condition do you ask of us?”
“I know why you’re here and I also know that your father and his associates have devised a means to unite our countries again by marrying the daughter of your father’s cousin. I also know that few political marriages ever consider love or even mild affection in the negotiations. Therefore I ask that if princess Sefa finds that you are not in any way compatible with her ideals then you will retract your proposal of marriage.”
His eyebrows drew down at her unexpected request. It had never occurred to him that she would make such a demand. But in the end he wouldn’t be swayed from his goal.
“You ask much from me and my country by this condition. A marriage between us would be the beginning of unity for our nations. Aren’t you tired of the battles and hatred between our people? What would you gain by stopping this?”
“The satisfaction of knowing she had a choice in her fate. And if you two are compatible then there is no harm done. Your dreams of a united country will still happen.”
Aõalríkr thought carefully for a few moments. This woman had spirit, he could see that clearly. Her haughtiness and extreme arrogance were not ideal qualities in a ladies companion. They were however expected references of character to people in positions of power. If he didn’t know better he would think that she was of royal blood herself, as she walked about like she was queen of this world.
“What is your name so that we might seal this deal properly?”
Kári barely hesitated with an answer. A name was a valuable tool to work with and it revealed much about a person. He thought she was nothing more than a paid companion to a princess and not the long lost half-sister to said princess. She had kept her identity a secret from others for years now and was well accustomed to the game. So she answered simply with no evidence of a lie in her voice, giving him only a first name as if she were only a peasant girl.
“It is Kári,” she informed the prince. She could see the slight surprise in his face. It was a name given to boys not girls. But her father had gifted her with this masculine name and no one contradicted the decisions of the Allfather.
“Well, Kári, companion to the princess Sefa Haldis, I am Aõalríkr Torvald, prince of Sigurheim and future king of both the Eastern and Western Nation.”
“You’re very pompous aren’t you?”
Álfr growled a warning at her to keep her tongue in check.
Kári shrugged her shoulders, unapologetic of her response to his obvious air of over-the-top sense of self importance.
“I agree to your conditions with a condition of my own,” he said.
She looked at him with a curious frown. He continued.
“When we reach the capital city, you will tell me who you really are and not this fantasy story of being a paid companion to a princess. I find it difficult to believe that you could sit docilely in the shadows of anyone.”
She rolled her eyes before giving him a serious look.
“The winds of truth change constantly and what is true to some is fantasy for others. I am who I say I am and that is all that should matter to you, your highness.” She turned her head to the side as she examined his person from head to toe. “Beside once you reach the capital you’ll be too busy trying to woo the delicate heart of the princess to care a wallop about whom or what I am in this world.”
Aõalríkr shook his head at her stubbornness to keep up this silly fabrication when he knew she was a fraud. But right now wasn’t the time to delve into her hidden identity. He did insist however on having the last word.
“That I whole heartedly disagree with, but I do agree to your condition none the less. Do we shake on it then?”
Taking off his left glove he outstretched his gloveless hand to her. Kári took off her own right glove and placed her hand cautiously within his. The blood in his hand was very warm compared to that of her hand, which always ran a little cooler than others. A trait from her father was a lower body temperature which allowed her to easily withstand the arctic weather of the land of the gods.
Giving her slighter and more delicate hand a firm squeeze, Aõalríkr reluctantly released her hand to her. He was taken back at touching the cool flesh of this woman. She had been wearing gloves and even still her flesh was cold as winter weather. It raised his curiosity ten-fold to know more about this strange and unique young woman. And she did seem young, but at the same time there was a depth in her cobalt colored eyes that made him think she was far older than she appeared.
Soon enough the winds of truth would blow in his favor and he would find out the hidden truth of this woman. He was sure of himself in that regard. There was no doubt.
***
Hin Sal Felagi (The Soul-Mate)
“Why on the gods wintery earth would you agree to that woman’s demands? Is she some kind of witch that’s turned you into an addle-minded simpleton?” Álfr aired this day’s grievance as they continued through the Black Woods several hrosses behind Kári and her companions, which he had been informally introduced to as his guards were being released from their capture.
Álfr continued to grouse about the woman who in his eyes was no better than the Red Rebels who had troubled them the entire journey to the Eastern capital. In truth, Aõalríkr hadn’t thought much of the agreement he had committed himself to in order to accept her services. At the time it had seemed the easiest way to subdue the anger in this mysterious woman’s fetching eyes. The fact that he was mulling over those same fetching eyes made him consider Álfr’s assessment of Kári as possibly true.
Aõalríkr had no doubts about the possibility of princess Sefa finding him more than acceptable as a husband. It wasn’t arrogance that kept him assured of her acceptance, just simple truth based on the testimony of every eligibly unwed female in his father’s kingdom. He was going in to this potential engagement with a sure and winning hand. Yet at the same time, Aõalríkr held back a deep truth from himself and the others that he wouldn’t mind losing this once.
“There is no chance that either the princess or her uncle will find fault with me,” Aõalríkr explained to Álfr confidently. “We’re not risking anything by accepting her absurd condition. And when you’re standing next to me at the wedding alter you’ll realize that I was right all along.”
His childhood friend gave him a hard stare as they rode along side each other through an open pass. “I am seriously considering the woman was correct when she called you pompous. You’re more self-assured than the gods themselves and that my friend is not a good quality to have.”
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