Winter Solstice Winter - Book I in the Viking Blood Saga

A northern chilling wind swirled briskly through Bergendal as the Eastanine Gypsies rolled their wagons into town. They arrived playing cheery music, promising fortunes and answers to life’s mysteries, as if they were the only ones who had the answers to the questions all mortals seek. All they really sold were illusions and daydreams, but dreams nonetheless. And sometimes dreams were the only substance to keep one hoping for a brighter day. Their old, creaky wagons found a home outside the Bergendal Stave Church, camped in a circle, enclosing a constantly blazing bonfire. The children and elderly were kept inside the wagon ring and as customary—to Bishop Peter’s great dismay—they celebrated into the wee hours of the night with constant music and dance.

  Four months had gone by and life had almost become normal again, as normal as it could get, considering all the changes that had happened in Ailia’s life. A steady troupe of Surtorians lingered around Bergendal and Ailia and Lucia had to be careful, so these agents of Eiess wouldn’t spot them. Remaining indoors had started to become frustrating for Ailia and she looked for opportunities to escape.

  The moment Ailia discovered the Gypsies had arrived in Bergendal, she had to find a way to have her annual fortune read. Lucia had been somewhat disinterested in Ailia and she had even been sharp toward Ailia on many occasions. Ailia thought having some fun with her sister might be a way to help them connect better. Lucia had been adamant about not going to see the Gypsies at first, but the fourth time Ailia brought it up, she finally agreed to come.

  “Are you sure about this?” Lucia said, stopping on their way over to the gypsy tent, her blue eyes scanning the surroundings, her face carefully covered with a scarf. “I do not have a good feeling about this. What if the Surtorians see us, or what if the Gypsy woman can tell I am Princess Lucia?”

  “Don’t be silly. There’s no way she’d know that and besides, you don’t have to have your fortune read. I’ll just do it if it makes you feel that uncomfortable.” Ailia grabbed her by the hand. It was a slow climb up to Bergendal church from Brandersgaard and Ailia dragged Lucia behind her all the way.

  The Gypsy tent was very small, much smaller than Ailia remembered. They both had to duck to get through the entrance. Inside sat a middle-aged woman with a brown and green shawl over her head. Her untidy, below the waist-length hair was as messy as the inside of the tent and her raggedy old red dress was frayed like the tablecloth on the small round table.

  “Ahhh,” the woman said in a high-pitched tone, rising from her seat. “Welcome, welcome to you two beauties of the Norse world. I is Ivanka, the reader of fates and fortunes.” She deftly maneuvered around the table and kissed both Ailia and Lucia on the cheek. “You are here for reading?” she asked, smiling and raising her eyebrows so her leathery forehead wrinkled.

  Her scent overwhelmed Ailia, stinging her frozen nostrils with the floral perfume. “Uh, yes, uh—I am,” Ailia said, placing her hand on her chest, trying not to cough from the odor.

  “The Princess?” Ivanka said, looking over at Lucia.

  Lucia coughed, her eyes lightening at Ailia.

  Does she know Lucia’s a real Princess, or does she just call everyone Princess? Ailia wondered. She didn’t call me Princess, even though I am, so it’s probably just a term of endearment to make more money.

  “No thank you,” Lucia finally said.

  “Then we start. You—for free,” Ivanka said, gesturing to Lucia. “You—one silver coin,” she said, pointing at Ailia with her right hand, while pointing her left index finger up. Her hands were covered with thin wool mittens, which could hardly be thick enough to protect them from the cold.

  Ailia pulled a coin out of her pocket and placed it in Ivanka’s hand. “Here you are.” She smiled, excitement filling her body. She didn’t understand why she felt so excited about this; she knew the reading wasn’t real. It was entertainment—at best.

  Ivanka studied the coin for a moment and then smiled generously. “Yes, good, please sit,” she said placing the coin in her pocket.

  Lucia and Ailia sat down around the miniature table, squeezing their legs under it, trying to get comfortable.

  "Now, the left is what the gods give you, the right is what you do with it," Ivanka explained. “I will look at both.” She reached her hand out toward Lucia and signaled for her to give her hand.

  Lucia hesitated for a moment, but then gave in as she huffed loudly.

  “Thank you,” Ivanka said, closing her eyes and took two deep breaths. She mumbled something in a foreign tongue and Ailia and Lucia looked at each other. Ailia forced herself to remain serious and it looked like Lucia was having a hard time doing the same.

  Suddenly, Ivanka opened her eyes. It was almost as if another woman had taken her place, or a new spirit had inexplicably possessed her body. She looked into Lucia’s left hand first. “Oh, I see,” she said, nodding her head. Her voice had changed and become deep and serious. “You are hiding.” She looked up into Lucia’s eyes, smiling, her eyes narrowly squinting. Ivanka looked down into the gods-given palm again. “You two sisters—yes?”

  Ailia looked at Lucia in astonishment.

  “You have suffered so much in your short life. Poor girl, mother dead, father dead, unborn baby brother dead,” Ivanka said. She shook her head and made a tsking noise.

  Lucia withdrew her hand and clenched her fist tight near her bosom. “I, I do not want to hear any more,” she said, looking down at her hand.

  “Let me tell you your gifts from the gods,” Ivanka said. “You are strong in your heart and strong in your soul. You have helped your sister very much. Yet you carry a dark secret here,” she said, pointing at Lucia’s heart.

  Lucia smiled nervously, Ailia thought, as if she did indeed keep a secret.

  “You have been given many talents. One talent is only for you,” Ivanka said.

  “What do you mean?” Ailia said, disturbed.

  “Ah, it is not for me to say. Only reading, dearie. Now, other hand please, “Ivanka said.

  Reluctantly, Lucia gave Ivanka her right palm.

  “Good, good—” she said, peering into her future. Then she turned silent and serious, pulling Lucia’s hand closer, squinting her fixated eyes to get a closer look. She thrust Lucia’s hand down and pulled away from the table. “All done, bye-bye,” she said, standing up and pushing them out of the tent.

  “You didn’t even finish and I didn’t get my reading,” Ailia objected.

  Ivanka pulled the silver coin out of her pocket and threw it at Ailia. It fell down onto the snow. “Done,” she said and disappeared into her tent, closing the entrance flap behind her.

  Ailia and Lucia looked at each other, both at a loss for words. They slowly headed homeward again. Ailia’s plan had failed. She had really just wanted to connect more with the ever-growing gap between her and Lucia. About halfway back to Brandersgaard, Lucia finally spoke.

  “I told you I did not want to have my fortune read,” she seethed.

  Ailia started laughing, her body swayed as she chuckled. “ This is silly! It’s not even real—” Ailia said, continuing to laugh. “We might as well have some fun with it.”

  “That is what you think. This is serious, you know. Our lives are at stake,” Lucia said and took off.

  Ailia huffed. When she arrived home, Unni had prepared sheep stew for repast. The rich aroma filled the longhouse. “Did you see Lucia come in?”

  “Yes, she seemed upset. Is she all right?” Unni asked.

  “I had her come to the fortuneteller with me, but I think it was a mistake,” Ailia said. “I thought it would be fun, but she took it so seriously.”

  “Just give her some room. I’m sure she’ll be just fine in a little while,” Unni said.

  Ailia peered into the stew. She was surprised when she saw barley kernels and carrots mixed in with the meat. Their grain and vegetable storage had run out about a month ago. “Where did you get the barley and carrots?” she asked.

  “Silya’s in town and she dropped off a few spe
cial things that Soren had brought with him from the Southlandic Kingdom. Wasn’t that nice?” Unni said.

  Ailia froze. For some strange reason, the mention of his name made it feel as if her heart couldn’t be contained. Did she want to see him? It had been so long. Would she still feel the same way about him when she saw him again? “Is Soren in town as well?”

  “No, just Silya, I think,” Unni replied. “She said she would be back tomorrow for a visit and would love to see you both.”

  Ailia’s heart sank, but she was still very excited to see Silya again.

  After repast, everyone gathered in the main room for stories and a round of Hnefatafl, which Brander won again.

  “One day—” Ailia said, shaking her finger at him. “—I’m going to win.”

  “Sure you will, Ailia, but not against me!” He laughed mischievously.

  When Ailia finally went to bed, Lucia had already fallen asleep. Now she wouldn’t have a chance to talk to her and try and set things right. She didn’t know if she needed to apologize and had become increasingly annoyed by Lucia’s lofty attitude. Her mood seemed to change day-by-day, or even minute-by-minute, and it was becoming hard to keep up with her mood swings. Why couldn’t they be friends? It was as if Lucia looked down upon her for being a peasant, and every minute around her sister, she felt as if she were doing something wrong.

  She lay awake for hours, forcing her eyes shut, but there were too many thoughts buzzing around in mind to find a wink of peace. Tomorrow, Silya would return, and she felt excited about seeing her again. But where was Soren? He had no reason to come here, because he hadn’t yet learned the truth. Besides, it was probably for the best that he stayed away. Ailia would be safer then. He would be safer, too. Yet, she wanted him to come to her.

  Frustrated, she jumped out of bed, bundled up in her coat, scarf, and hat, and went outside to get away from her racing mind. The temperature outside had dropped over the last few days and her eyes watered as they came in contact with the stinging, cold breeze. She instinctively headed toward her mother’s grave. Maybe I can find some clues or information about the scrolls imbedded on the gravesite. She had looked at what seemed a thousand times for clues, but never found any. I am sure if I look just one more time…

  She had mainly studied the large center rune stone the past four months, not all the smaller stones comprising the shape of a longship, or even the longship’s prow.

  As she headed down the snowy road, she heard the Gypsy’s cheerful music in the distance. The song had a rich, ethnic beat to it and she found herself stepping her feet to the rhythm. She thought about what Ivanka had said to Lucia earlier and wanted to know what, if anything, she had seen in her future. As she passed the fortuneteller’s tent, Ivanka stepped outside.

  “Ah, beautiful girl, come here. I wait for you to return,” she said. Her voice was back to its high-pitched tone. “My apologies. I saw so much suffering and I did not want to scare your sister, dearie. She is still so lovely, still so innocent still that one.” She approached Ailia.

  Ivanka’s eyes looked sincere, Ailia thought. “It’s… we laughed about it really,” she replied nervously.

  “Oh, no, no, no! There is no laughing here. The Aesira scrolls. Your mother hid, yes? She will die the worst death. I cannot say—” Ivanka said, shaking her head despondently.

  Ailia couldn’t make out exactly what she was saying, but she did hear something. “How do you know about…?” she started. “Who are you? How do you know these things?”

  “I see it like it happened before. It will happen soon,” Ivanka said. “You will see. You will become me, my gift to you, dearie.”

  Ailia had a really hard time figuring out what the woman was saying. Ivanka’s accent was too strong to understand at moments and the meaning of her words, difficult to grasp. “Will you read my future now?” she asked.

  “Come with me.” Ivanka gestured and held open the tent entrance. Dozens of candles lit the tent and had transformed it into a hot and smoky dancing cave of shadows. Ivanka sat down in her chair. “Sit,” Ivanka ordered Ailia, moving her chair to the other side of the table.

  Ailia sat down on the same stool she had sat on earlier in the day and leaned forward. I must be crazy to try this again, she thought.

  “Left hand, please,” Ivanka instructed, reaching out for it. She took two deep breaths again and said the same foreign words she had before, just faster. She then opened her eyes and her demeanor had changed.

  “Now, let me see.” She studied Ailia’s palm. “Yes, I see, I see, good—not good. Hmm—” She was nodding and shaking her head interchangeably. “Ah, your palm is not able to be read, except for you have three lives, one love. Cannot see which life you are living now—three is too much. Other hand,” she said and let go of Ailia’s left hand.

  Baffled, Ailia extended her right arm and opened her palm.

  “Hmmm,” Ivanka said. “Hmmm—” She turned Ailia’s hand around and clasped it. “Not tonight, dearie. You make your own destiny. You find it in here,” she said and pointed her long, dirt-infested fingernail into Ailia’s chest. “— here,” she said and pointed to Ailia's forehead. “You may or may not win.”

  “What?” Ailia asked. That was no more or less than she already knew.

  “Remember, truth is inside you, buried down deep. Your spirit creates all wonders,” Ivanka said and stood up. “No need to look elsewhere than inside.” She blew out a dozen candles and then looked at Ailia. “No more tonight, good night.”

  Ailia stood up and slowly walked out of the tent miles more confused than when she had walked in.

  “One more thing—” the fortuneteller said. “He will be here tonight.”

  “Who?” Ailia said.

  “Good night.” Ivanka shut the tent door without another word.

  Nothing made sense. Ivanka seemed like she knew what she was talking about, but why wouldn’t she share what she had seen? It had been a rather unsatisfactory adventure, incapable of answering Ailia’s important questions.

  She started to feel tired and she thought it would be best to head home and try to get some sleep. Searching the heavens, Ailia sighted a shooting star in the pitch-black, light-speckled sky. The Auroras hadn’t shown themselves recently and she wondered if her mother was still looking down upon her, guiding her steps through life, helping her onto unseen, privileged paths.

  Out here in the dark, she was alone, yet strangely enough, not lonely. Ailia headed toward Brandersgaard and tried to clear her mind of all the questions life had recently thrown at her, insurmountably difficult questions she had no answers to—at least not yet. She could go mad thinking about them, searching for the answers that life so slowly rewarded.

  Life on the farm had not been easy, but one thing Uncle Brander and Aunt Unni had taught her, something she was truly grateful for, was to value work. She was embarrassed to admit, even to herself, that several times when asked to help, when she was blossoming into adulthood, Ailia had declared her independence, saying that Unni and Brander were not her real parents, so how could they order her around? Ailia liked to think her remorseful and quick attitude adjustment was proof of her maturing, but it probably had a lot more to do with her having to sleep outdoors in the pigsty and not having the privilege of a meal. She smiled as she remembered the ‘old’ Ailia. Finally, she arrived home. Right as she was about to enter through the front door, she heard someone call her name.

  “Ailia?”

  A chill went through her spine. She could recognize Soren’s voice anywhere.

  23

  A Healer Returns