Wolfsangel. Part 9

Vali tried to reply with something like he would have said to Bragi - 'If you have the wit, you can combine both' or 'You seem to have lived to a respectable age' - but the words seemed lodged in his throat.

'I'm up at the a.s.sembly of kings at Nidarnes until midsummer. It is a month. Return with the wolfman by then or watch your farm girl hang,' said Forkbeard.

'And then will you excuse me marrying your daughter?'

'Not a chance. You'll have proved yourself a great warrior. Your girl'll live, that's all. Now get out of here before I change my mind on that one too.'

Vali saw how he had been forced into a situation where the best he could hope for was that things would remain as they had been. The worst? Well, that wasn't going to happen. The chances of finding wolfmen, let alone capturing one, were terribly slim. A different plan was needed. Adisla would have to marry her farmer immediately. That would make it much more difficult for Forkbeard to take her as a sacrifice. It would mean they would never be together but she would live. And he would still have to go on his mission. He was sure he wouldn't return.

For the second time that day, he ran the distance between Forkbeard's hall and Adisla's house, pushing himself ever faster. Halfway there he heard hooves behind him - three riders of the king's bodyguard, their purpose clear. They were riding bareback, with only bridles on the horses. They hadn't had time to saddle up because they were trying to beat him to the farm.

The horses slowed as they approached. They were on a narrow track through trees and he moved to bar their path.

'You stop there!' shouted Vali. 'As a prince I command you to stop.'

The horses drew up. The riders were armed - one with a sword and two with spears - but he felt sure they wouldn't attack him.

The swordsman drew his weapon and pointed it at Vali - it was Ageirr, who had told him the news of Adisla's marriage in the first place. 'Where are your arms, prince? Ah, but you are Vali the Swordless, hearth hugger and thrall friend, aren't you? How do you propose to stop us? With the words you learned from the women? Or are you going to speak our enemies' language at us?'

The other two laughed, though slightly nervously. Vali was after all a prince, and they knew very well that at some point he might have the power of life and death over them.

Vali was desperate. 'I'll pay you to let me go first. On oath, you'll have money if you do so.'

Where Vali would get this money from, he didn't know. Maybe he could sell the helmet his father had given him, if he could get it back off Bragi.

'We are sworn defenders of the king,' said a spearman. 'There is no money that can sway us from his orders.' He urged his horse forward at a trot.

As he came past, Vali lunged for him, grabbing his tunic and pulling him from the animal's back. The horse was spooked and bolted, streaming the reins behind it. The other two kicked their mounts forward and around the pair brawling on the ground. 'See you at the s.l.u.t's house!' shouted Ageirr as he pa.s.sed.

Vali jumped up in useless desperation.

The bodyguard followed him and dusted himself down.

'A fair smack, prince, weapon or no weapon, I grant you that,' he said. Then he looked to the ground. 'I'm sorry for what's to happen to her. She is a fine girl.'

'Save your words for your horse,' said Vali, turning to run through the trees to the farm.

She was gone, of course, when he arrived. Disa was waiting in the doorway. He had never seen her so angry.

'What have you done?' she said.

Vali felt hot and wretched. 'How is she? Where have they taken her?'

'She's at Forkbeard's hall. She's perfectly well and likely to remain so until they hang her. What are you going to do about it, boy? What are you going to do?'

Vali's body felt full of energy. He was bursting to go somewhere, to do something, to make it all go away, but even as he said the words, they sounded unconvincing. 'I'll do as Forkbeard demands - I'll find the wolfmen.'

'How?'

'I . . . I'll go north and walk around until they attack me.'

For the first time in his life Vali saw Disa's eyes fill with tears.

'You'll do nothing of the sort, you useless fool. That'll be two of you dead if you do.'

'Then I'll go to Forkbeard's hall and fight him for her.'

'You'll fight Forkbeard, a man who killed his first enemy at twelve and who has murdered more people than you have ever seen. You fight Forkbeard, you'll . . .'

She wiped her eyes. Bragi was watching from where he was sitting beneath a tree. He had decided long ago that the best way to keep an eye on the prince was to spend time at Disa's himself.

'You, old man, you go with him.'

'I was told the order yesterday, madam. The boy is to go alone.'

'You knew, and sat there drinking at my table?'

'I knew he was to go; I knew nothing of the fate of your girl, on my oath.'

Disa composed herself.

'Will you lend him your sword at least? It's the best blade in the kingdom.'

'It would be my dearest wish,' said Bragi.

'Then come on,' said Disa. 'We have no time to waste. Come inside.'

'I need to go now. I need to find this wolfman,' said Vali.

'That,' said Disa, 'is exactly what we are going to do. Get Ma Jodis; we have work to do.'

11 An Invitation.

Word of what was happening spread throughout the little farmsteads and curiosity drew a crowd. They packed into Disa's house so tightly that she had to drive some of them outside.

While they waited for Jodis to come, Disa took a pack from her shelf and began to stuff it with food - bread, some cheese, honey in a pot sealed with cloth - and other things. She was talking, as much to herself as to Vali.

'You'll need food, for a little way at least, and something to light your fire. I'll put in some webs and yarrow for wounds. The honey's not to be eaten; you can put that on any cuts you get too. Long root will give strength to your blood and mint will keep you watchful. This,' she said, holding up a small flask, 'is to be taken in small quant.i.ties when you are well hidden and sure to be safe from enemies. It will help you sleep through the white nights, no matter how hard the bed, though you need no more than a drop. Five drops in a man's gla.s.s will see him sleep so soundly he cannot be woken for a day - you may need to resort to such measures if you are hard-pressed. Here is wolfsbane, to take away pain, again only a drop. Now, what else?'

As she scoured her shelves Bragi came in with his sword. Disa took it from him without a word and put it next to the pack. All the time Vali was stewing in his shame. He had condemned Adisla to death because he had considered only himself, not her.

'This,' said Ma Disa, holding open a small bag of mushrooms and dried flowers, 'is what the berserks use. Boil it with water and drink it as hot as you can bear.'

Vali was going to protest, to say he didn't want anything to do with berserker magic. He couldn't really see a situation where he would have time for what amounted to cooking before a fight but, he thought, best take it and be grateful.

Jodis came in, smacking him hard over the back of the head.

'I heard. You're a fool, prince, and the G.o.ds help the Horda if you ever become their king.' Ma Jodis was a big bustling woman with arms like pork hams and the blow hurt. Vali accepted it, though. He'd known her since he was a small child and almost regarded it as her right to cuff him around the ears if she wanted to.

The women exchanged a long look.

'Begin?' said Jodis.

Disa nodded.

The women went to the centre of the room and started work, stoking up the fire, moving goats, chickens, benches and stools out of the way, pushing the curious to where they would cause least interference.

They brought in a table, which was positioned very close to the fire. On the table was placed a chest, pulled through the throng of onlookers. As this was done Disa shook down her hair. Jodis caught it up in her hands, tying it at the back in three tight knots. Vali shivered. He knew what they were - the hanging knots of the dead lord's necklace - symbol of Odin, the G.o.d he had come to hate.

The women's actions were accompanied by a whispered commentary, as those who could see pa.s.sed news of what was happening to those who could not.

'She's tying her hair.'

'She's becoming the bride of Odin.'

'If she hangs herself then the G.o.d might save the girl.'

'That terrible fellow wants someone to swing, no mistake.'

'He is lord of the hanged, a mighty G.o.d indeed!'

'Don't be so stupid - Ma Disa's death won't save the girl.'

Some voices praised Odin almost ecstatically. Others were quieter but disapproving of what they saw. The poorer people, those who had the hard pasture and mean dwellings, thought that destiny lay in the hands of the G.o.ds. The richer farmers, or those who had enjoyed successful raiding, were more inclined to say they had made their own luck and put less trust in the divine.

Jodis pushed the chest to the front of the table and Disa sat on it, her head slightly above those of the standing crowd, her feet only just above the fire. Jodis took Vali by the arm and sat him on the floor on the other side of the fire, looking up at Disa.

Vali glanced around at the watching faces, long in the light of the flames. It was as if he was at the centre of some strange clearing in the forest, the people hanging over him like twisted trees.

'Them that don't have to be here, shouldn't be here for the next bit - you'll be in for a long night,' said Jodis, but no one moved. She pushed through the crowd, took a pot from a shelf at the back of the room, removed a stone serving as its lid and shook something into her hand that looked to Vali like kindling.

Jodis threw the stuff onto the fire and it began to burn, releasing an acrid and unpleasant smoke. Most of those nearest to it, Vali included, pulled their tunics up over their mouths and noses, but Disa breathed deeply and intoned in a strange high voice: I speak the rune of the spell G.o.d I howl the rune of the hanged G.o.d Odin, who lost his eye for lore Odin, waiting mind blown by the well.

Disa then produced a piece of wood and marked something on it - Vali couldn't see what - with three strokes of her knife. She put the wood on her knees and held the knife to her palm. She drew in breath, steeling herself, and then made the same three strokes in her hand, but much quicker. Vali recognised the Ansuz rune and was fascinated. He could carve runes himself and knew they were said to have magical properties. He'd asked Disa to tell him what they were, but she had just said that kings and warriors made their magic cutting runes on the bodies of their enemies and had no need for further knowledge.

The blood dripped from Disa's hand down onto the wood. She smeared it into what she had carved there and then threw it onto the fire.

'What am I? I am a woman. Where am I? At the hearth. What am I? I am a woman. Where am I? At the hearth. What am I? I am a woman. Where am I? At the hearth. What am I? I am a woman. Where am I? At the hearth.'

Jodis came to Disa's side and bound her hand, but she seemed not to notice. She continued to chant, eyes vacant and staring into s.p.a.ce. Her voice seemed to deaden Vali's sense of time. He saw the fire restocked both with logs and with the strange herbs by Jodis and then old Ma Sefa returned with more of each.

'What am I? I am a woman. Where am I? At the hearth. What am I? I am a woman. Where am I? At the hearth.' Again and again she said the words, rocking slightly on the chest as Vali looked up at her through the fire and the smoke. Sometimes his mind wandered and he thought that she had stopped, but when he came back to himself she was still chanting, How long had he sat there? He couldn't tell but his legs were numb and his head was heavy.

The smoke filled up Vali's senses. Tiredness descended on him but he was not allowed to sleep. Every time he began to drift off, Jodis or Sefa would shake him, as they roused Disa. The purpose of her seat became clear. It was uncomfortable and precarious - virtually impossible to doze on. Then Vali noticed the room was lighter and colder. Some people had left; in fact many people had left. Looking over to the doorway, he realised he had completely missed the brief night and the light was that of the dawn.

Around them the farmers came and went: chatting, speculating on how Disa worked her art, wondering what enchantment she was laying on Vali. Some said that she was trying to make him invulnerable to weapons, some that she would turn him into a bird to scour the land for the wolfmen, some that she was pleased her daughter was going to Odin and would frustrate Vali in his quest. A couple began to play at dice; others picked up Vali's King's Table set and played that, bored by the ritual but afraid they might miss something if they went home. Two young men even started to mock Disa, repeating her words in silly high voices. Jodis sent them packing with a whack from a broom. Late arrivers, religious women of the outlying farms, came and joined in the chant, hoping to gain the blessing of the G.o.d Disa was seeking.

'What am I? I am a woman. Where am I? At the hearth. What am I? I am a woman. Where am I? At the hearth.'

The chanting never stopped. The light outside grew brighter. It was hot again and then it was cold again. More people came in. Others left. Jodis shook Vali awake, shook Disa awake, steadying her on her platform, throwing more herbs on the fire.

'What am I? I do not know. Where am I? In the dark. What am I? I am a raven. Where am I? On the field of the slain. What am I? I am ravens. Where am I? Where I can see.'

Was she really saying that? Vali wondered. The ground seemed to rock as if he was on a ship. The air seemed thick and clinging. The light outside was weakening once more. Neither Vali nor Disa had slept in three days. Disa's voice was cracked, hardly audible.

Something cut through the fug of his thoughts. Disa was coughing and spluttering, then she let out a scream and began to shiver violently. Jodis and Sefa leaped to her side, holding her on the chest. Disa's body went rigid - it seemed almost as if she would lift off her seat.

'These pins are so sharp in my skin.'

Disa had spoken but in a way that Vali had never heard her speak before, slow and deliberate, much higher than her normal tone and with a strange accent.

Vali looked up at her, his legs stone with sitting, his mind like a boulder.

'A rune I took from the tormented G.o.d.'

It was a tremulous voice, almost like that of a child, thought Vali. On some sounds it seemed to draw and suck like the sea on shingle but on others cracked and choked like the noise of a dog with a chicken bone.

Disa threw herself back and sat down heavily on the table, the chest going crashing to the side. Her body convulsed but then the shivering subsided, and she became calm. Jodis and Sefa let her go and she stood on the table looking out across the room. The temperature in the room plummeted and Vali felt his skin p.r.i.c.kle into gooseb.u.mps. His breath froze on the air in front of him. There was something in Ma Disa's manner that was quite unlike her. She stood tall and proud, surveying her surroundings like a queen. The people drew back from her, a couple giving involuntary cries. A patina of frost had formed at her feet. Vali was sure he was seeing magic working before his eyes. He was right. But it no longer had anything to do with Disa.

12 Enemies.

The witch queen had sensed the first death like someone dozing on a summer day might sense a cloud go over the sun. Things had moved quickly then - candles had been lit to pierce the tomb dark of the caves, sisters disturbed from their ritual sufferings, boys dispatched to find the corpse.

Authun was not yet back home from the Wall with the infant Vali when Gullveig located the first body.

The girl was lying in the lower tunnels, close to the wet rocks, near the deep pool where the rite of the water rune was performed. She was hanged, a rough rope thrown over a jutting rock, a triple knot tied at the neck. The witch queen had touched the girl's cold smile and then the rope. She knew what those knots meant, the three tight interlocking triangles - the dead lord's necklace, sign of the G.o.d Odin, the berserk, the hanged, the drowned, the wise and the mad, the G.o.d to whom she had dedicated her life.

The witch queen touched the white of the girl's throat, her magic-widened senses drinking in the resonances of the child's death. The bruises had the sense of a delicious stain, she thought, blackberries and dark wine. She took up the girl's hair in her fingers and breathed in. Baked bread, cinders, straw bedding and dried flowers were the odours of her death. The girl had gone home. It was a suicide, Gullveig was sure.

The dead child had not been unhappy. She had been scared when she had first entered the caves, but the presence of the queen - at twelve years old a child herself - had rea.s.sured her and the witches had touched her mind to bring her calm. The pain and suffering of the rituals had not come easily to her, but she had endured, seen the aim, felt her mind widening as her grip on sanity loosened.

She was to have been the inheritor of the rune of water, to carry the resonance of that ancient symbol within her, to sustain it and be sustained by it. Two girls had been trained. When the old witch who was their mentor died it would be decided who would nurture the rune and who would partic.i.p.ate in lesser rituals - to help, to fetch and carry. Now there was only one girl to continue the magic. If anything happened to her the rune would cease to manifest in the physical realm and the sisters' power would diminish.

There was something else Gullveig could sense in the magical signature of the girl's death, a feeling of heaviness - the heaviness someone drowning feels as their clothes fill with water, the heaviness of a downward current as it sucks the strength from a swimmer's limbs. There was a magical presence there, the witch could tell, and it had flowed from the rune the girl had been given to learn. That should not have happened. The witches had suffered losses before but they had been physical ones - sisters frozen, smothered or suffocated by smoke when a ritual had gone wrong. The runes had been within their control for generations. Until that day.

The witch leaned forward and tapped her tongue on the girl's cheek. The taste was of ocean depths, sightless and empty voids. Gullveig felt the pulling tides, the tug of groping blind sea beasts, the weight of waters above her, all seeming to say, 'Come lower. Descend, lose sight of the light and give yourself to this heavy darkness.' She shivered. There would be more of these deaths, she knew, as certain as people of lesser sensitivities know that one wave follows another.