Lord of the Runes (24 page)

He let go of her hair and combed his fingers through it. “Asa, I think you know how I feel for you. You've captured me with your beauty and strength. What we've experienced together, the magic of the rune carving, fighting side by side, and the talks we've had throughout the winter, are things I've never had with other women. And I doubt you've had them with other men. There's a power that flows through us. You felt it when we carved the runes, but I've felt it all along, from the first moment I saw you.”

Kissing her again, he sought her tongue with his. He tasted of mead, sweet and heady. Then he enveloped her in his cloak, shielding her from the night and the world. She looked up at him as he stroked her face with his long fingers. “I love you, Asa. I mean to speak with your brother about us. He needs to know, and I intend to offer for you.”

Her heart swelled. When she was young, she'd dreamt of this, that a strong, beautiful warrior would whisper his love for her and take her away to marry her. But that was before.

She tried to step back, but he wouldn't allow it. He tightened his arms around her. To kiss him beneath the northern lights was one thing. But to marry him was quite another. He'd want to take her, as would be his right. If anyone could banish her fears, he could. But if not, it would be a nightmare. For both of them.

“He won't allow anyone to court me but a jarl or a king's son. It was my father's wish.” It was the only excuse she could think of. She could never tell him the truth, because of the wound it would reopen in her and the revulsion she might see in his eyes.

He smiled. “I don't think that will be a problem, Asa.”

“My—my bride price is too high. A fortune.” She lowered her eyes. She had to dissuade him somehow, without revealing her past.

“That's not a problem either.” He set his finger under her chin and tilted her head up so she would have to look at him. “I have been raiding these past three years, and I have great wealth. He can name any price and you would be worth it.”

She still managed to slide her gaze to the side and avoid his. Why didn't he understand? A movement near the longhouse caught her attention and she gasped. “Let me go. It's Magnus. He's seen us.”

“Good. Then I can speak to him.”

She pushed at his chest and he released her. “I can't do this to either of us, Eirik. I'm sorry.” Clutching her cloak around her, she ran toward her brother.

“Asa? What did he do to you?” Magnus reached out to her, but she darted away from him and into the longhouse. She hurried into her room and shut the door, breathing hard, her heart pounding. Cursing, she dropped onto the bed.

The only man she could ever love, who could love her as well, and she had to reject him because of her own foolish fears. His kiss had been wonderful. But there was more to marriage than kisses. Magnus had seen them together and he hadn't looked happy. There was no telling what he would do now. She pounded her fist on the bed.

She could face swords, warriors, poison, even death itself, and come out whole. But one simple kiss might have just shattered her entire world.

* * *

“We need to talk.” Magnus didn't move. He stood with his arms crossed, a scowl on his face.

“My thoughts exactly.” Eirik walked toward him.

“In my room. We can have some measure of privacy there.” Magnus headed inside the longhouse and Eirik followed him. Leif sat at a table with several other men, mugs of ale before them. But Magnus just shook his head as he and Eirik walked past, and Leif didn't join them.

This was it. To press his suit, Eirik would have to reveal who he was and take the chance. He had come to know them all quite well over the winter. He could trust them. They had, after all, fought together and won respect for each other as one warrior for another.

When Eirik had seated himself at the table, Magnus opened a chest standing near the bed. “Mead?”

“Please.”

He brought out two goblets made of glass with silver chasing, which was very rare and expensive. Was Magnus trying to intimidate him? He smiled as he watched him pour. It would take more than that, and when Magnus handed him a glass, Eirik didn't take note of the beautiful cup.

They drank. Then Magnus set down his glass.

“I've felt this growing between you and Asa all winter. Too many nights spent together carving runes and playing
tafl
, I suppose.”

“That, and other things, yes.” He took another drink of mead. “I want to marry her.” There it was. A direct strike to his defenses.

“I see. You know our father destined her for a jarl, or even the son of a king. He aimed high for her, and so will I.”

Eirik didn't reply, meeting his hard gaze.

“You can't expect me to even entertain this request without knowing who you really are. We haven't learned any more about your past than we did the first few days after you arrived. You're no simple rune caster.”

Eirik chuckled. “Are there any simple rune casters? My mother would not think so. She's a renowned rune mistress herself.”

“Ah, we know that about your mother, at least. That's a start.” He leaned forward. “Why were you traveling? The truth. Who are you?”

Eirik drew a pattern in a drop of mead splashed on the table. Othala, the rune of property. It not only would give him strength for their negotiations, but it would help him speak of the inheritance he had lost. The time had come.

“As I told you, I was raiding with my cousin for the past three years. I got word that my father was dying, so I returned home late last fall. Two days afterward, outcasts attacked my village, Haardvik, on the northern shore of the Hardangerfjorden. We didn't think anyone would strike so late in the season. It turned out the outcasts wanted a place to overwinter, so they were careful not to destroy the buildings and supplies. They left enough people to serve them, and imprisoned the warriors.

“My father was killed in front of me. I slew the bastard who threw his axe at him from behind. But when I did so, he pulled me over the cliff and into the fjord.

“Everyone thought I had died. But I made it to shore only to find that my village was lost. My sister met me in the woods, but she and my mother are trapped there and I don't know what's become of them. I formed a plan to travel to my cousin in Trøndelag to get his help. I raided with him. He has four-and-twenty longships outfitted for battle, and the warriors to crew them.”

“Who is this cousin?” Magnus toyed with his glass, but he gave Eirik an assessing look.

“He's Rorik of Vargfjell. It's a large holding near Lade and he's renowned for his raiding tactics and fine ships.”

“I've heard of him. They say he's as wild as the North Sea in the winter.”

Eirik laughed. “That's true. I traveled with him to the great southern inland sea and also to the farthest desert kingdoms in the East. There are few places he hasn't seen. With his help, I'll seek revenge on those bastards and win back my home. When I fell into the fjord, I lost the sword of my ancestors, which my father wielded in battle. I must retrieve it before I can take my rightful heritage.”

“Why is that?”

“It was made from a fallen star the gods sent to us. As long as my family has the sword, we have their blessings upon us and the right to rule our people. Even if the blade is pitted and stained from having been in the fjord and can do nothing but hang on the wall of the longhouse, it's still a symbol of who we are. It's been passed down through the generations to my father, Jarl Ivar Arvidson.”

“I see. And you're his eldest son?”

“His only son. I have a younger sister.”

He winced. “You're a jarl, then. Thor's hammer . . . Leif was right. Damn him.”

“About what?”

“Never mind. I see now why you're not bothered by the fact that Asa is meant for a high-ranked marriage.”

“I won't accept my title, though, until I get the sword back.”

“Surely your people would accept you as jarl without the sword in your hand.”

“They would. But I won't. It would mean the gods have turned from me. And I don't want Asa to know about it until I tell her myself. I won't ask to marry her until I regain Haardvik. But I would still have an agreement with you about it.”

“You're right. You won't marry her until you're a jarl. That I can guarantee. We can discuss the bride price and the dowry. However, the formal arrangement will have to wait until we have witnesses on both sides for the
handsal.
The agreement can't be formalized until then.”

“Agreed. There's one other thing I have to speak to you about. My sister told me the leader of the outcasts mentioned that after the winter, he'll head north, into this area, and wreak revenge on people here for something that happened in the past. If they come here, you may have just as much trouble as the other outcasts gave you, if not more. I fought these men. They're far more formidable and skilled than the ones we faced a few weeks ago.”

Magnus sat up, frowning. “I heard of a group of outcasts who came up from the south last year, perhaps from Jaeren, and were in Hordaland. No one knows for certain where they were before that.”

“They're at my village now. My sister, Silvi, said that their leader, Hakon—”

“Hakon?” He half rose. “Is that the leader's name? Did you see him? A man with silver hair? He was young, but it changed early.”

“Silvi said that was his name. I did see a man in front of my father who goaded him so that the one behind him could throw his axe into his back. He seemed young, but he had silver hair, as you've said. Why? Who is he to you?”

Magnus sank back down and poured more mead in his glass. He drank it and grimaced, baring his teeth. “It must be him. Estrid's stepfather was a man named Hakon. He was younger than her mother, Cliona. He turned the women's heads when he first came here. After he married, he became abusive toward Cliona and she divorced him, as was her right. I'm not certain to this day if he abused Estrid or not, but after Cliona left with my mother to return to Ireland, he must have filled Estrid's head with all manner of nonsense. She was the cousin of a jarl and he wanted that prestige and connection. If he couldn't have it with Cliona, he would have it with Estrid. She became attracted to him. With Estrid, it doesn't take much, as you've seen.

“But then he committed a heinous crime and I tried to execute him for it. He wounded me and escaped. I had him declared an outcast at the Thing that summer, and we haven't heard from him since. I thought he must have died.

“This Hakon who attacked your village must be the same man.”

“It's a common enough name,” Eirik said as Magnus poured him more mead. “If it is him, then he intends to come here and take revenge on you for having him outcast.”

“And that's not all he'll do. I know him. He won't want to leave any trace behind him. Before he leaves your village, he'll kill everyone there.”

Eirik fought down the fear rising into his throat. Every once in a while, throughout the winter, he'd felt a touch in his mind, so gentle and sweet. Silvi. Letting him know she was well. He would have gone mad if he hadn't felt that brush against his thoughts. If anything had happened to them, he would know. Wouldn't he?

“Then it's imperative I leave as soon as possible.”

“And it's imperative I come with you with as many men as I can bring on such short notice. I have a score to settle with Hakon and if it's the same man, I will see him dead. I missed my chance six years ago. I won't miss again.”

Six years ago? That was when something terrible had happened to Asa. Were the two events connected?

“I'll welcome your help, Magnus. If we join in an alliance, we'll present a much stronger force and we'll both gain, now and in the future.” He half smiled. “And there's one way to lock in that agreement.”

“By joining our bloodlines. I agree. But there's something I have to ask you first. On the night you came here, you were delirious from the cold. As Asa took care of you, I think you must have thought she was your wife.”

He stilled. “Their hair is a similar color.”

“Yes. You asked her to forgive you. For killing her.”

His skin grew cold as pain filled him. “I said that. No wonder she acted so afraid of me at first.” He looked at Magnus. “My wife died in childbirth. That's why I left home and went raiding with Rorik, to get away from the memories. They haunt me still. Sela was very small and slight. Not made to bear children. My mother tried to warn me, but I was in love and wouldn't listen.

“At first, I kept Sela from conceiving, but she became so distraught that I gave in to her pleas. She conceived, but died giving birth to my son. I knew better, but wouldn't admit it. I blamed the runes, the gods, everything else. It wasn't until I traveled the world and became a true man that I accepted the blame myself. I still bear the guilt. That must have been what I meant.” He held his head in his hands. “Gods, what you all must have thought of me.”

Magnus laughed. “I admit, we were watching you rather closely after that. But once I had your measure, I couldn't see that you would have done such a thing purposely. Perhaps by accident, but you were too honorable to have killed a woman, much less your wife.”

Eirik picked up his glass and tilted it, watching the mead swirl. “I loved Sela, but it was the love of a young, infatuated boy.” He raised his eyes to Magnus. “However, the love I bear for your sister is that of a man, and I swear I will make her the best of husbands.”

“Only if you're a jarl. And only if you have the gold equivalent to the value of three hundred milk cows for her
mundr
.”