Empty Altars (33 page)

"So you'll deliver the details of the water and the elves' deaths so that your chieftain can sulk and pout?"

"Our lord is trying to be a good host." Jorunda looked at Tyr's expression and further words died on his lips.

Jon made an effort, too. "We meet in his chambers each evening to discuss the day's events."

"You'd better hurry then." Freya nodded at the sun, sinking lower in the sky. "You'll want to catch him while he's sober."

"Before he drinks himself to bed, in private, in his room." Tyr's attention shifted suddenly. Out of the blue, he asked, "Do any of you remember who healed the fastest when Heid sent the pox here?"

Diana knew he was thinking about the conversation they'd had earlier, about the traitor in their midst. The poison had been administered to Griswold in the drinking horn they'd found on his nightstand.

Jorunda stared, unable to make the leap in subjects so quickly. He finally shook his head. "We were too sick to remember much from that time."

Tyr grunted.

"Why?" Inga frowned at him.

"We believe whoever administered the poison took an antidote at the same time. That way, he'd be sick, but he'd be sure to heal."

Inga and Freya glanced at each other, but shook their heads. "We were too busy to pay attention."

Tyr blurted, "Diana asked the runes to show her the traitor, but they refused. She believes it's because he's destined to survive our upcoming battle."

"Oh, sky god." Freya came around the table to offer him a hug. "This has been a miserable day for you, hasn't it? You care too much."

"And you don't?"

"I care," Freya corrected. "But you take things too much to heart. We're all doing our best. That's all we can do. The rest is in the hands of the Norns."

"They only foretell our fates. They don't determine them."

"Then there's nothing more we can do, is there?" Freya kissed the top of his blond head. "Our journeys are determined. Our only choice is how well we live them."

Tyr's brows furrowed in a deep scowl. His mood surprised Diana. He was so willing to accept his own death, she thought he'd be as fatalistic about the deaths of others. He reached for her hand. "Will you walk with me?"

She blinked her surprise. "Now?"

"I need to find calm. Walks help. So does your presence."

She rose alongside him. "I've never been known as a calming effect before."

He gave a faint grin. "Your ferociousness makes me retreat. Your impatience forces me to find answers. Your powers overwhelm me. I guess that makes you good for me."

Freya shook her head. "For a man of words, this wasn't your shining moment."

"I can't find words for how I feel about our huntress. Words are inadequate." He gave Diana's hand a tug and started for the door. "Don't wait up," he told the others.

Freya's laugh chimed behind them. The goddess of love and beauty was pleased with herself. She'd better enjoy it while she could. Tomorrow, Diana intended to have her do another reading. Many things had shifted. The bones might have different answers from their previous ones.

Chapter 28

Freya's blue eyes sparkled. She held the pouch Diana had given her with reverence, but her lips quirked at the corners. "Now that that
other
business is taken care of, perhaps we'll get an answer."

"What other business?" Jorunda asked.

"The goddess and Tyr are now one," Freya said, pride in her voice.

Noir raised his head to look at Diana.

"Do you mind?" Diana glared. She liked these people, enjoyed their company, but had no intentions of sharing
everything
with them, and she certainly didn't have to explain herself to her familiar.

Freya laughed. "I'm just jealous. And it's fun to watch you squirm."

"Do the reading," Diana told her.

"Oh, all right." Freya sobered her mood and concentrated. "Can we win this battle?" She tossed the runes onto the square, wooden table by her bed.

They were alone in the room the goddesses shared. Dim light filtered through the window—an overcast day. Gray clouds brooded low to the earth. The air smelled of the promise of rain. The music of the bones sang in Diana's ears, but she said nothing. Freya had thrown the bones. Freya should interpret them.

Freya studied the way they fell. She pointed to three bones touching in a loose triangle. "Those are the three riders from afar who'll bring us news that can shift the battle."

Diana nodded and waited.

Freya frowned over a tangled bundle of bones. "All of our destinies are intermingled." She moved on to a line of bones tilted up and down together. "If we protect the village, we save the bridge." She stopped at the lone bone lying in an empty space. "Someone will be betrayed and killed, but look." She poked a finger at a cluster of bones that were different from last time. "We've already received the gift that will shift the battle."

"Diana," Tyr said. "She's our gift."

Diana shook her head. "Something else."

Freya's voice fizzed with excitement as she looked at the last pattern on the table. "Heid's army is crumbling. She pushed too soon, and she lost her advantage. If she doesn't strike, we'll keep growing stronger. We'll win."

"
If
," Tyr said. "Heid knows that. She won't waste much more time."

"In a way, it's a relief," Inga said. "The sooner, the better."

Jorunda nodded agreement. "We're as ready as we're going to get."

Freya gathered her bones and returned them to her pouch. They were getting ready to leave, to go for breakfast, when Inga looked up and saw Griswold standing in the doorway.

Noir and Shadow arched their backs and hissed in unison.

Griswold ignored them. "I came for Jorunda. I have need of him. I didn't realize you were busy." Temper flared in his gray eyes. "I take it I'm not to be privy to your readings?"

"This is Diana's gift to me." Freya's tone was as cold as Griswold's was hot. "We were told you wanted nothing to do with her or her magic."

Griswold looked at the cord around Inga's neck. "And you, girl? Are you a reader?" When she said nothing, Griswold walked toward her and yanked the pouch from beneath her dress. "No one saw fit to tell me that the village has a new seer?"

"I'm only training," Inga whimpered.

"Then practice for me now. Throw your bones."

Inga looked at Diana. At her slight nod, she reached inside the pouch and cupped the rowan runes in her hands. "What would you have me ask?"

"What should the village do to survive this war?"

Inga tossed the bones. They fell in a circle with others scattered inside. She frowned at Diana. "Does that mean what I think it does?"

Diana nodded.

Griswold growled, "Spit it out, girl. What do they say?"

"They warn us to stay inside the fence. If we leave…" She pointed to several runes lying at random outside the circle, "…we'll get caught in the crossfire and die."

"Fair warning." Griswold gave an angry sniff. He crushed Inga's arm in a firm grip. "Come with me. I have more to ask."

The cats sprang between Griswold and the open door.

"My chieftain, that's no way to treat the village seer." Jorunda kept his voice even, but it was laced with anger.

"Seers are protected by the gods, something to bear in mind," Tyr added.

Griswold freed Inga and took a step away. “Will you come with me, girl?”

“No.” Diana didn’t soften her refusal. “We need her now. She’ll perform readings for you after we’ve defeated Heid.”

“You sound awfully sure of yourself.” Griswold’s implied meaning was clear. He doubted their chances for victory.

“I’m sure we need Inga’s talents to achieve success.” Diana didn’t tell him that if Inga didn’t survive, Jorunda wouldn’t either. And if Jorunda fell—according to Gudrun—so would the village.

Griswold turned on his heel and motioned for Jorunda to precede him from the room. The cats silently parted for the warrior.

A tremble shook Inga's body. Freya put an arm around her waist to comfort her. "Come, child. Let's get something to eat. The runes held more promise than before. We should be happy."

The wooden table was empty when they arrived in the great hall. The warriors had come and gone.

Freya sighed when she reached for the porridge Hlif offered. Diana pulled a chunk of bread from a round loaf.

"I'll have men put out barrels to catch rain." Tyr glanced at the dark skies. "If Heid's attack is soon, we might not have time to dig a well."

Griswold's boots sounded on the floor as he approached them. He frowned as Diana fed Noir a scrap of food, but didn't comment on it. "If a well can help, let's dig one." He sat at the head of the table, glowering at them. "I was under the impression we had more time to prepare. That's changed. I want everything readied."

Tyr's brows rose in surprise. "A wise decision. How can we help?"

"If it's true Diana can feel water beneath the ground, let's start there." He tapped his foot impatiently as they finished their breakfast. The instant they pushed themselves out of their chairs, he said, "Come. My men are ready."

He led them into the courtyard where Jon waited with a half dozen, young warriors. They held pickaxes and shovels. They all turned to Diana.

She ignored their curious glances and began to pace back and forth across the ground. Breezes began to gust. The highest tree branches whipped back and forth. She stopped once near the stables, knelt and placed her hand on the earth. Then she shook her head. "There's water, but it runs under a deep ledge of rock. You won't reach it." She did that several times. Each time the stream ran too deep. Finally, she neared the community gardens. This time, she placed both hands on the dirt and listened earnestly. She called forth earth energy and it flowed into her quickly. Then she called forth water energy, and it, too, was quick. "Here," she said. "The water runs close enough to the surface, and the rock is thin."

The warriors set to work. It began to drizzle.

"Thank Woden," Jon said. "The skies are cooling us off."

People gathered to watch. Griswold's dogs ran back and forth between him and the longhouse. The men dug a good while before they hit rock. They used their axes to break through the thin layer—and found water.

"Make the hole wider." Griswold leaned forward to watch their work just as someone stepped from the longhouse and called for him. When he turned to see who was there, he tripped over a sleeping dog. A young warrior was mid-swing with his pickax when, stumbling, Griswold bumped him. The warrior, in turn, lost his balance. His pickax dug deep into Jon, who was working beside him. Blood gushed from Jon’s shoulder, the wound deep.

“Who called?” Griswold demanded. When no one answered, the chieftain turned to Diana and snapped, "Do something before Jon bleeds to death!"

She put a hand over the deep wound and began to chant. The blood slowed. More words followed. The flow stopped. "I'm not a true healer. It won't last. I work
with
nature, not against it," she warned. "You need to sew it. Stuff it with padding."

"Infection?" Tyr asked.

"That, I can make a potion for." Diana motioned for Freya to follow her to the house. Jon's face turned pale as ash, and his body began to quiver. He'd lost a lot of blood. His legs would give out soon. "He's going to fall. Carry him into the house with us."

Tyr caught him before he hit the dirt. He hurried after the women. Griswold trailed behind them. "Will he be all right?" the chieftain asked. "The battle is almost on us. He and Jorunda are our best warriors."

"He'll live, but I'm no miracle worker. He'll need time to heal."

Hlif met them at the kitchen door, took one look at Jon, and went to fetch boiling water. Diana searched through plants and powders to add for the potion. Freya went to find clean fabric. The liquid was still too hot when Diana dabbed it into the wound. Jon flinched, gritting his teeth.

The warrior braced himself. "You'll have to burn the skin to stop the bleeding, won't you?"

"I can do better than that." Diana jammed a finger inside the bloody hole and let hot energy flow into the ragged flesh. Perspiration beaded Jon's forehead, and he clenched his jaw against the pain. When Diana pulled away, the heat seared the wound without branding it.

"This won't hurt quite as much," Freya told him. She sterilized a bone needle and threaded it. She began to stitch the skin shut. When that was finished, they bandaged it.

Jon licked his lips, fighting to stay conscious. "Will I be able to use my arm soon?"

Tyr shook his head. "No, but you can be there for your men."

Worry creased Jon's forehead. "It's my left side. I can still hold a sword."

"You'll be too weak," Diana told him.

"Then someone should use his shield," Griswold said. "It should protect someone from magic."