Bonded: Book One of the ShadowLight Saga, an Epic Fantasy Adventure (3 page)

"Where is Emma? By all the great gods, what in Valhalla
have you done with her?"

"Calm yourself, Erik." Hallad reached for Erik’s
shoulders. "This is not the way."

Erik whirled on Hallad, but kept a hand on the woman. The godhi’s
son jumped back on his heels to keep his balance.

"You!" Erik exclaimed. "Why do you protect
this . . ."

"Valkyrie," Rolf, who hadn’t budged from his
position, interjected.

"She’s not a valkyrie." Hallad smoothed his tone,
disguising the distress.

"Not a valkyrie? What about shadow-spawn? Sent from the
dark god himself? She killed Emma! Murdered her! Your own sister!"

Hallad tensed under the accusation. His father’s words
intruded,
Keep your head level when chaos abounds.

"We don’t know that."

"Have you gone blind?" Darkness lurked in the
angles of Erik’s face.

A need arose to guard the stranger. Hallad couldn’t explain
it, couldn’t rationalize why, but the sensation wouldn’t subside.
Rule with
your head even though your heart calls
. His father’s words played inside
his mind again, though he didn’t know if the irrational urge belonged to his
head or heart.

"The Shadow," Rolf suggested. "She brought
the Shadow to abduct Emma. She called the darkness forth with her incantation,
or dance, or enchantment. Whatever she did—we all saw her. You can’t deny the
facts."

All three young men scrutinized the stranger. Was she a valkyrie?
Or shadow spawn sent from Loki himself? She returned their scrutiny with her
chin held high.

"She brought the Shadow," Erik repeated. "And
she will die by my hand." But he paused, clenching his fist around Emma’s
key while tightening his remaining grip on the stranger’s breastplate.

Rolf’s tone fell to a whisper. "Brother, what if she
isn’t shadow-spawn? What if she’s a valkyrie, protected by the gods? Then, your
crime will be as grave as hers."

"Nei," said Hallad. "I will not allow you to
harm her."

"Where is your loyalty? Your sister snatched into the
Shadow and you protect her slayer."

"Justice will be served, blood brother, but by a
hearing of the Hall, not by your hand." Erik glowered as Hallad continued,
"They will decide her guilt after a trial. It is the law."

"They will put her to the inquest and prove her guilt,"
said Rolf.

An uneasy shiver crawled across Hallad’s skin. Their customs
stated if the one in question proved innocent, or in league with the gods, the
gods would allow them to swan-shift and disappear. If guilty or shadow-spawn,
they would die. The tradition was older than many of the tales exchanged on
long winter nights, said to be handed down by the gods to protect man from
Loki’s shadow-spawn. Yet Hallad could not recall a time when anyone had
survived the inquest.

"Bind her then," said Erik, releasing her. "Tightly."

"We don’t have any rope." Hallad picked up the young
woman’s sword and tucked the weapon under his belt, hiding the signet within
the folds of his tunic. He marched toward his bow and quiver, where he had
dropped them on the ground at the entrance to the cove. The young woman moved
with him, shadowing his movements. When Hallad stopped, she stopped. Rolf and
Erik exchanged raised brows.

Without another word they gathered their belongings. Hallad
glanced back at the cove. The water shone like a sheet of ice in the moonlight,
defying any commotion had occurred. Erik and Rolf stopped at the forest’s edge,
freeing the torches from the ground. Rolf took the lead, followed by Hallad. The
strange woman crowded Hallad’s side while Erik took up the rear.

Their feet crunched over coarse ground. No buds blossomed,
leaving the forest’s floor dormant, coated in a knot of deadness. The woman’s
footfalls made no sound. She glided like a silent shadow by his side. Hallad
couldn’t even detect her breath. Yet without looking, he sensed her next to
him.

Warmth surged through him overtaking the emptiness he had
felt on the Green, before he had met the stranger, before losing Emma. He bit
back the bile forming in his throat.

Emma, I failed you.

Hallad’s part in the night’s events would bring retribution
against him, and rightly so. Godhi’s son or not, he had endangered lives by his
actions.

A woman’s voice drifted through his thoughts.

A
s long as we are together.

The words wrapped around him, melting through him, reminding
him of the song that had urged him into the Great Wood. Hallad glanced
sideways, but the young woman kept her gaze forward, lips pressed tight. Had he
just imagined she had spoken?

The woodlands wrapped them in silence as they headed back to
the village of Steadsby, with the exception of the clank of Erik’s sword
against his scabbard—a warning in case the stranger chose to run.

"I demand a hearing of the Hall!" said Erik.

"Where is my daughter?" Thyre bit back at him,
eyes narrowed, lips twisted.

Hallad's mother teetered on a seat, erected upon a dais, in
the center of the longhouse. Her hair was a shade deeper than Emma’s, knotted
on her crown; her features were tight from the pull of her bun. A veil draped
off the spiral of hair, signifying her station as Mistress of the Hall. The
woman possessed none of Emma’s gentleness.

Villagers stopped their merriment to witness the spectacle. The
crowd silenced as the two glowered at one another. Finally, Thyre broke from
her scrutiny of Erik to observe the young woman standing beside Hallad, as
straight and sure as a goddess. Thyre's lips twitched into an uncontrolled grin
as she calculated something unknown. The guileful leer caused Hallad’s chest to
contract in forewarning.

The godhi, Hallad’s father, inspected the young woman too,
but he didn’t smile. Old haunts seized his aging face. Avarr’s lids sagged over
his eyes—the same mist-gray color as Emma’s, though paled with age.

Hallad stared at his father. The sleeves of Avarr’s tunic bore
embroidery, emblazed with his signet, the Guardian Tree digging its roots into
the earth—the same signet Hallad wore on his own tunic—the exact seal adorning
the young woman’s sword tucked neatly under Hallad’s mantle.

The old man shifted his gaze to his son. Sadness tugged his
features downward.

"The Hall will hear you now." The godhi nodded
toward Erik with the dignity of a king, but the muscles in his neck bunched as
he spoke. "Speak, boy. The Hall hears all who ask. What is your complaint,
who is this girl and where is my daughter?" Hallad’s father raised himself
off his seat to his full height as his voice thundered throughout the
longhouse, leaving behind any of the sorrow Hallad had detected earlier.

The crowd shifted uncomfortably. Even Hallad flinched at the
force of his father. Erik’s face heated at his words.

"Emma is dead by the hand of this creature," proclaimed
Erik, waving to indicate the stranger. "Sucked into the Shadow itself."

A gasp ran through the crowd. Thyre shrieked loudly. The godhi’s
jaw tightened, turning his attention on Hallad. The dense smoke of the room
blurred the battle shields gracing the walls of the longhouse—each, his father
had told him, with a story of its own. The smells of roasted boar and abundant
mead quashed the air in Hallad’s lungs. Hallad’s chest tightened as if a
boulder sat on it.

"Is this true, son?" the godhi asked.

Hallad twitched. The young woman stood stiff as a blade
beside him, but Hallad sensed her shudder underneath her skin.

"Nei, it is not."

Erik swung at Hallad, fist connecting with his cheek. Hallad
stammered backward, catching his balance, but refused to return the blow. The
spectators erupted, hollering for a fight. The godhi raised his hand in the air.

"Enough!"

The crowd fell quiet once more.

"You boy," the old man said pointing at Rolf, "you
tell us what has happened."

Erik glared at his little brother, raising his dark brows in
warning. Rolf moved forward nervously at first, then flipped his scarlet mantle
about him. Hallad recognized the gesture and gritted his teeth.

By the gods, he thinks he’s reciting a lay.

Rolf cleared his throat and launched into a colorful version
of the evening’s events. The crowd oohed at every turn of his tale, giving Rolf
the incentive to exaggerate. Hallad tried to interrupt, but his father held him
off with a shake of his hand, as engrossed in the telling as the crowd. When
Rolf described meeting the stranger, her unclothed state, the mystery of her at
the cove, the crowd murmured, "valkyrie" and "swan maiden."

Rolf continued, stating how the godhi’s son had shot the
creature. The onlookers roared condemnation. Some prayed aloud for the gods’
pardon and protection. Thyre sobbed as Rolf relayed how the woman’s strange
behavior called the Shadow that devoured Emma. Onlookers openly wept. Men
cursed, rallying in word as "sent from Loki" and "shadow-spawn"
replaced "swan maiden" throughout the smoke-congested longhouse. As
the room overflowed with emotion, Rolf bowed his head as if finishing a grand
performance.

"What will we do?" asked a man in the crowd.

"Kill her," muttered another.

"What if she’s a valkyrie? The gods would curse us for
taking their own."

"The inquest," Rolf suggested.

"The inquest."

It swelled like a wave through the crowd until the godhi hushed
them.

"By the law of the Hall, this girl has a right to speak
for herself. What do you say?" He searched the young woman longingly, as
if willing her to speak on her own behalf.

She stood with her white hair draped around her like sleek
wings, her chin level, her bottomless eyes defying the crowd—yet she did not
utter a sound.

Thyre flew out of her seat.

"Enough husband! I demand justice. I will not be
allowed to give my own daughter a proper pyre. My own flesh and blood will
wander the earth forever without the rights said and runes carved at her
gravestone."

For once, Erik and Thyre were in agreement, and Erik goaded
the crowd to put the woman to the inquest. The godhi raised his hand again,
causing a hush to wash over the crowd.

"So shall it be." Avarr spoke slowly, choosing his
words with regret. "Prepare for the inquest."

The godhi bent, whispering to a servant next to the dais. The
thrall nodded, pushed through the crowd and disappeared out the door.

I will not survive if you let them do this.

The words struck Hallad with the same timbre as the song in
the forest. He swiveled to the stranger, only to find her face motionless
.
He
combed the crowd, but none revealed they had either spoken or heard the young
woman.

"And what of Hallad’s crime?" Thyre demanded.

"What do you say wife?" The godhi replied, his
countenance darkening.

"It was Hallad who shot the shadow-spawn, or swan
maiden, either way, he brought the wrath of the gods, and as a result my Emma
is gone. By the testimony of his own friends, he moved to protect this creature
and not his own sister. If we do not punish him for this crime, because he is
your son, the gods will take their revenge on our entire village." Her
mouth twitched as if she tried to restrain a smirk.

Hallad had always known his mother was a ruthless woman, but
to turn on her own son? He’d known the Hall would demand recompense for the
night’s events, though he never dreamed his own mother would suggest it.

"My son," said the godhi. "Do you know what
the punishment for treason against your kin, attempting to slay those who
control your own fate and endangering your village is?"

"Ja, father, I do." Hallad lowered his eyes,
unable to look into his father’s face.

"What say you to these crimes?"

The muscles in Hallad’s jaw tightened. His teeth ground
together. He could not deny the accusations, for in part they rang true. He
thought of Emma. From a young age, Hallad’s duty forced him to learn to read
runes, master sword skill, study politics and war craft. His time spent with
tutors left him friendless. In rare moments, free of his responsibilities,
Hallad had often found himself alone. Except for Emma. She would appear with
her face bright as sunlight to ease his solitude. The only other friend he had
accused him of this crime. And now, because of his inaction, Emma was gone.

"Guilty," said Hallad.

"Guilty," repeated Thyre.

"Guilty," echoed the crowd, until the longhouse
swelled with the word.

Avarr bowed his head. Erik’s face paled with shock. The young
woman pressed silently at Hallad’s side, her presence sparking a smidgen of
comfort as his emotions whirled. He caught her eyes as she stared at him, her
compassion apparent. In that moment he realized her eyes were not black, but
the deepest of blue.

Slowly, the godhi lifted his head, probing his son with
anxious eyes.

"The Hall pronounces you guilty of treason against your
kin, attempted slaying of a deity and endangerment to this village. Your
sentence is death by the gallows."

Tied to the central pole of the livestock barn, Hallad
struggled against the ropes binding his wrists. They had taken the young woman
to another annex of the barn and the separation caused a pang in his chest. He
called out to her, but only the knock of hammers against wood replied as the
villagers prepared for the inquest in the village square.

And the gallows
, Hallad thought.

Hallad worked at his bindings, remembering the young woman’s
sword tucked in his belt, hidden safely within the folds of his mantle.

I didn’t even have a chance to ask father about his
signet.

Momentary grief overtook him, but he shook loose of its
grip. He had to break free, get to the woman and keep her safe. If he managed
to release one hand, he could reach the hilt.