Winter Solstice Winter - Book I in the Viking Blood Saga

Ailia wanted to stay in bed forever. The night had been peaceful and dreamless, a luxury she rarely experienced these days, and if every night could be like this one, she would be happy. Hannah was already in the other room, clanking dishes and boiling water. She got up and pulled her messy hair loose from the leather string it was tied with, causing her long locks to flow down her back. After she re-tied the string, she got dressed, and limped out to the main room. Where’s Soren? she wondered, not seeing him anywhere.

  “Good morn to you,” Hannah said.

  “Good morning.” Ailia pressed the back of her hand to her lips to hide a yawn.

  “It’s going to be a beautiful day once the sun rises. Savagely cold and beautiful this country is.”

  Ailia agreed on both accounts.

  “I suspect you’ll be on your way shortly. I’ve packed you both food for your trip.”

  Just then, Ailia heard Soren galloping off on his horse.

  Hannah walked over to the window, opened the flimsy makeshift shutters, and looked out. She turned to Ailia, a puzzled look on her face. “Did he tell you where he was going?”

  “No,” Ailia said and walked over to join Hannah where she stood. She peered through the window into the darkness and saw only Soren dash off into the murky pre-dawn morning on Volomite’s black back.

  “I’m sure he’ll return soon,” Hannah comforted. “I never understood men. Just off doin’ their own thing, no consideration. Maybe gone huntin’?”

  “Probably,” Ailia replied, but she felt like something wasn’t right. Soren wouldn’t just take off and leave her like this, would he? Not after all he had done to help her. He would probably return soon with a perfectly good explanation for leaving. But at the back of her mind, she couldn’t help but wonder: maybe she didn’t know him at all and maybe he didn’t care whether she made it back home or not.

  Hannah was busy finishing breakfast: sop. Ailia hadn’t had sop in years, since Aunt Unni thought it was a vile, nasty meal.

  Hannah prepared three bowls by putting a thick slices of wholegrain bread in each of them. “Sop is my favorite meal,” she said. “It’s easy to make, it fills the belly up for a long time, and it tastes wonderful, especially with a generous portion of honey. Soren gave me this honey this morning,” she said, holding up a small glass jar. She smiled. “Said he got it from the Southlandic Kingdom. They have the opposite problem down there now—no cold season.” Hannah scooped hot liquid over the bread. “Now, that might be all fine and dandy for them, you would think, but Soren said they’re sufferin’ from a fresh water shortage since none of the glaciers here are melting. It’s only going to get worse. Soren said that thousands upon thousands are dying from lack of water. They’re thirstin’ to death! I’d much rather be here and cold, eatin’ my fish, hare and horse, God rest Mimi’s soul,” she said, pointing to her stable. “Now, I cannot get around much any more, but there’s really nowhere to go.” She picked up a bowl and handed it to Ailia. “Be careful now, it’s very hot.”

  “You ate your riding horse?” Ailia had eaten horsemeat before, and in fact, horsemeat stew was one of her favorite meals, but she’d never consider eating her riding horse.

  “I didn’t need to travel anywhere anymore. She was gettin’ old and I needed the food,” Hannah said matter of factly. “Now she serves me each day, just in another way.”

  When Ailia had finished her sop, she decided that it was now her new favorite breakfast. It satisfied her hunger and filled and warmed her belly, just like Hannah had said.

  Finally, the sun rose above the mountaintops, peeking in through the cracks in the shutters. Ailia excitedly opened the front door and stepped outside to soak up its rare company. Her foot still hurt to step on, but the pain had lessened considerably and it looked a lot less swollen and not nearly as red as it did yesterday.

  “Don’t let all the warm air out!” Hannah hollered from inside.

  Ailia shut the creaking door behind her. Last night’s snow had covered the trees, fields, and every part of the Small Mountains, and Volomite’s tracks were the only disturbance in this winter paradise.

  Had Soren really left for good? Her mind vacillated between being concerned that he would never return and also thinking that she might be overreacting. He probably just went out to hunt like Hannah said and will be right back. However, if that were the case, why hadn’t he told them where he was going and when, or even if, he would return?

  Ailia glanced over the white and blue landscape. Branches of aspen and oak trees were covered with crystallized ice and they glittered in the light of the sun. Down by the frozen-over lake, Ailia saw a small deer prance gracefully across the ice. She took a few steps out into the snow to get a closer look at the deer. A chill shot through her legs as her bare feet touched the snow and she took a step back. Her foot was feeling much better and she could apply a little pressure on it without cringing.

  To her astonishment, she thought she heard a fiddle playing somewhere in the direction of the lake. The song was upbeat, filling her chest with happiness, and she recognized the melody as the tune, Maiden Dance. She had heard it many times during the festivals back home, and had danced to it until her feet became sore. Maybe the fiddler is from Bergendal? she thought. Curious to find out where the sound was coming from and who was playing it, she went back inside the cabin and put on her overcoat and boots.

  Hannah was still busy cleaning up from breakfast.

  Ailia dashed out the door. “I’ll be right back,” she shouted, as she hobbled toward the lake. She didn’t wait for Hannah to reply and wouldn’t have stopped if she had. The mid-calf-high snow was hard to walk in, so she had to slow her pace and lift her skirt as she trudged through it. Snow entered her boots, freezing her delicate skin. I should have put my stockings on.

  Music continued to flow, and before she continued, she took a moment to scan the forest on the other side. Nothing, not even a single movement was detectable, only jovial notes could be heard. She saw no reason not to explore and walked around the lake. One can never be too careful around water.

  As she continued, she kept her eyes locked in the direction the music was coming from. Then, she noticed movement in the woods, and when she looked closer, she saw a man playing the fiddle. What in Midgard’s name is he doing out here in the middle of nowhere?

  The tune stopped and Ailia held her breath as she stood in silence, waiting for it to return. The fiddler started playing another tune, a more melancholy, seductive one that stirred up emotions in Ailia’s heart. She listened quietly as the notes filled her soul, penetrating her being. Hypnotizing her, compelling her to go to the creator of the intriguing music, it pulled her toward it. Step after step she walked, wanting nothing more than to unite herself with the heavenly sounds. Then she saw him through the woods: a young, well-dressed, dark-blond man playing the fiddle.

  Suddenly, the man lowered his instrument and spun around.

  Ailia jumped behind a tree, immediately feeling embarrassed that he might have seen her sneak up on him, and then feeling embarrassed that she had hid behind the tree after he had most likely seen her. She wrestled with what to do.

  “Hello?” the man beckoned. “Miss?”

  Ugh! Ailia grimaced. He had seen her. She apologetically stepped out from behind the tree.

  “Ah, there you are!” the man exclaimed, with a beaming smile, a happy lilt in his voice. His nostrils flared as he spoke.

  “I’m sorry, I, um—uh you startled me,” she said, twisting her hands into knots.

  He traveled very quickly toward Ailia, almost at a quicker than humanly possible pace. His deep-set, greedy eyes fixed on her like a predator zoning in on his prey. Up close, she noticed his unusually square jaw and the deep cleft in it. His full lips were cherry red and full—perfect for kissing. Kissing? Why had she suddenly thought of that? There was an extreme and unexplainable manly sensuousness about him, that’s why. Pure and raw masculinity seeped from his pores and swallowed up her senses, luring out h
er desires. She noticed how her knees felt weak, and how her heart rate was all over the place. Breathing deeply, she tried to remain unaffected.

  “No need to apologize, miss—?” he said.

  “Oh, Ailia,” she said and smiled. She was not sure whether she liked him and should stay, or whether she should run away.

  “What a thrilling name,” the man said, not volunteering his own. “Ailia,” he said again, this time enunciating her name more loudly and clearly as he finished with a glued-on smile. “Bravo, Ailia,” he said.

  Ailia muffled a chuckle. She had never thought her name was thrilling, but liked that he thought it was. She replied with a thank you.

  “You must have heard me playing on my fiddle,” he said, holding it up. His movements seemed contrived, almost choreographed and extremely well-rehearsed.

  “Yes. You are a very gifted fiddler, and I wanted to meet the one who could play so beautifully,” she said. “I don’t recognize you, but I recognized the first tune you played, having heard it performed in my hometown Bergendal. Have you visited there, perhaps?”

  “No, but a man from Bergendal did teach me the melody,” he replied with a bow.

  “Truly? What was his name? I know all the fiddlers in Bergendal,” she said excited, but still careful and wanting to test his knowledge on the subject.

  “His name was Andreas. Do you know him?”

  “Yes!” she exclaimed. “Andreas was the best fiddler in town.”

  “I agree,” the stranger said and nodded his head fervently. “We met a few years ago at the town festival and I was so intrigued by his playing. I had never touched a fiddle in my life, but I knew I needed to learn to play like him, and—”

  She listened as he told the whole story and was mesmerized by the way he told it. His voice danced as he spoke articulately in a slightly southern dialect and his movements seemed so graceful, almost like watching an archangel, if Ailia thought she’d ever meet one in this life. He seemed divine, or on a higher level than any other human, and as she studied his face, his deep blue, nearly black eyes drew her in. They were so dark and mysterious and she wanted to know more about him. No, she needed to know more about him. There was just something absolutely breathtakingly attractive about this man in a very sensual way, and as she continued to listen, all of her apprehension about him had vanished.

  “—unfortunately, I have not seen him in a few years. I heard he passed away?” he finished his story.

  “Yes, he died of old age,” Ailia said. She missed Andreas. He had been like an older brother to her, usually being the first one to dance with her at the festivals.

  “Here, let me play you another tune you might know. Do you dance?” He tramped down the snow, flattening it out.

  “Well, I do at our local festivals,” she said modestly. “My foot—” she started.

  “Oh, come on!” He laughed in a high pitched tone. “Do not be shy. Show me a step or two.” He began playing a spirited tune, staring at her as he smiled ever so charmingly. “Come on then, dance!”

  Ailia hesitantly put her hands on her hips and showed him a few steps, but she quickly stopped dancing because she felt silly.

  He kept playing the melody and nodded his head at her to keep going. “Yes, beautiful!” he shouted over the fiddle tune. “Just keep dancing!”

  Rather reluctantly, she kept moving to the rhythm. Fortunately, the more she danced, the more she enjoyed it. Happy to have some fun, she let out a laugh. The tune brought back so many wonderful memories from home. Oh, how she longed to be back with Uncle brander and Aunt Unni! She then stepped harshly on her injured foot, and with a cry, she fell down into the packed snow.

  “Oh, miss, Ailia, Ailia, are you hurt?” He flung his fiddle into the snow and fell to his knees beside her.

  “My foot is just a little injured,” she said, trying to downplay it.

  He helped her take her boot off and she could see that the wound had re-opened and was bleeding. “Will you help me get back over to the cabin over there?” she said, pointing.

  “I have a better idea,” he said. “My home is right behind that hill there and it is closer. Let me carry you there. I have a very good supply of ointments and dressings.” He lifted her even before she was able to object and started walking toward the hill.

  “No, I need to get back,” she said, her chest clenching in fear. “Hannah will wonder where I am and Soren will be worried too.”

  “You mean the young man who took off this morning?” the fiddler asked.

  “No,” Ailia lied. “That was Leif.” His strong arms gripped her more tightly, and immediately, her mind started to search for ways to escape. “I really need to get back now,” she said insistently. Maybe he was a Viking and wanted to take her back to his house to imprison her, or worse, kill her.

  “I see,” he said and stopped. “I shall take you home then.”

  She held her face stern to make sure he continued to recognize she was serious.

  He turned around and started to walk across the lake. “The lake is solid ice and it is much easier to move across it than try to wade through the snow like you did,” he said.

  So he had been watching her come toward him. That didn’t sit well with Ailia.

  “I feel a lot better now. I can walk,” she said. By now they were about halfway across the lake. He set her down carefully and offered to support her with his hand.

  “Thank you,” she said, still not trusting him. She wished she didn’t need his help, but the open wound was stinging badly, and it would be unwise to not accept assistance. He had led her about halfway back to Hannah’s house, so reason told her he was going to bring her the rest of the way, too. She stepped forward, but without warning, he pulled her back, wrapped his arms around her, clutching her body to his.

  “Let me go!” she yelled.

  But he didn’t listen. He stomped so hard that Ailia heard the ice crack below their feet. He stomped again and yet a third time. His eyes were staring into Ailia’s and she saw that they had lit up to a bright glowing golden color. His teeth became sharp and his skin took on the color of a corpse’s, like a dead man’s who had been underneath the water decomposing.

  “Help!” Ailia screamed as loudly as her voice would go, now realizing her pleas had fallen on deaf ears. No matter how much she wiggled, kicked, and screamed, he would not release his grip on her. “Hannah!”

  His stomps had opened a small hole in the ice, large enough to fit both of them. He jumped into the water with Ailia. The water was numbingly cold and she began shivering immediately.

  “Help!” she continued to scream, but no one came to her rescue.

  “Shh—” he said stroking her hair. “Do not worry. It will all soon be over.”

  Just then a conversation she had had with Brander flashed through her mind. He had warned her several times about this brute water demon that would drag children and young maidens down to the deep with him, never to be heard from again. The Nukkern, he had called him.

  The shape-shifting man tried to kiss her, but Ailia turned her head from side to side, avoiding his cold, purple, wrinkled lips.

  “Help! Someone please help me!” she yelled again.

  “Ailia!” she heard in the distance.

  She glanced quickly to where the voice had come from, and relief washed through her when she saw Soren in the distance, galloping toward her. There was also another white horse, with a brown spotted pattern, carrying a woman dressed in the typical fancy royal blue, red and white Sami clothes.

  “Soren!” Ailia yelled. “Help!”

  Just as she uttered the last word, the Nukkern drew her underneath the icy water with him, wrapping his arms tightly around her body, locking in her arms so she could not move.

  15

  Sister