Lucia was still surprised Soren had agreed to leave without a word to the others at Brandersgaard. Understandably, he had been hesitant at first, saying it would be wrong of them to vanish without giving thanks or telling anyone where they had gone. At first when she mentioned the secretive plan to him, she had not truly meant to follow through with it. She had merely wanted to see how committed to her he really was. But it seemed fate had stepped in and had spun the right words into Lucia’s tongue. When she by chance mentioned that Ailia had become infatuated with him and that it made her feel uncomfortable, he had immediately agreed to leave. After that, all the right words fell out of her mouth like raindrops from heaven, and it was easy to slip back into the warm, safe past where she had truly believe Soren was hers. Seeing how devoted he was to her, Lucia thought maybe, just maybe there was a future for them after all. And the way he had kissed her, with not just his lips, but with his entire being it seemed, perhaps she could learn to return his affections.
They had been traveling for several hours, heading southward toward Trollsoe, starting their long journey at the first sign of the cool blue winter night. The weather had been milder today, but not nearly amicable enough to melt any of the snow that blanketed the entire country and had for what seemed an eternity. Now, the distant sun had set in the west, behind the Tinden Mountains, after having burned the skies with red, orange and pink streaking clouds. The absence of the sun had ushered in the icy air, which crept and gnawed on Lucia’s body.
Soren was a man of few words, and they had been riding in silence for the better part of the trip. Boredom set in, and so she thought she might try to engage him in conversation.
“I used to look forward to your visits, before—” She stopped, realizing she had nearly said, “before my parents died.” She did not want to speak about them. Their deaths were still too fresh in her bones, still tormenting her raw, mourning heart as only the death of one’s parents could. Their lies had not really made it easier for Lucia to let them go, and in fact, it seemed the pain of their deaths felt worse because they had deceived her.
“I always looked forward to the day I could visit and you would be a young woman, no longer a girl,” he said.
Lucia blushed, as her eyes wandered away from him.
“I did not mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said.
She turned to him and smiled. “I am so used to being told no, not now, you are not ready yet, and it feels strange to not have those limitations anymore. This newfound freedom will take me some getting used to.” She removed a section of hair that had slid down her forehead and was playing with her lashes. Her blondish-white hair and fair complexion could mesmerize nearly any man, she had discovered, and she used that to her every advantage with Soren.
“You can take all the time you need. I remember you and I remember our past, but this is all new to you,” he said. “We do not need to rush into our relationship again.”
“Thank you,” she said, trying to be as sincere as she could. She briefly lifted out of her seat in an attempt to ease the numbness in her behind. “They will understand. We can always go back and visit after we are married.” An intense feeling of guilt festered in her gut as a stale piece of bread, churning and making her slightly nauseated as she thought about what she had done. Why had she done it? And how could she have betrayed Ailia again? She swore to herself she would never betray her own blood, and she had sworn to Ailia that she would be true.
But over the past few months, her sister had shown her true colors and had been disrespectful and inconsiderate toward Lucia. She never asked Lucia how she felt, or if she had any feelings for Soren. What if Lucia actually loved him? Did that not matter? Ailia was too absorbed in her own problems to notice anyone else’s, especially any problems Lucia was going through.
“I do not remember anything from—before,” she said.
“What do you mean?” Soren asked.
“I have lived two other times, correct?”
“Yes.” He glanced at her.
“I do not remember anything whatsoever from my first two lives—it is strange.” She gave him as sweet a smile as she could.
“As I recall, in your last life, you could not remember anything either until you were a older.”
Good. Now, she did not need to try to conjure up their old memories.
“It will come back to you sooner or later. In your second life, you started having dreams of our first life together. You dreamt of certain important moments,” he said.
“Oh?” She was baffled. Ailia had not mentioned any dreams to her, but then again, maybe she had not had any yet. Or maybe she kept them from me. She could be as deceitful as my parents.
“Have you had any dreams?” he asked.
“No, none at all.” She grinned, lifting her eyebrows innocently. “How do you think we should go about keeping everything secret?” she asked. I do not want Eiess or her Surtorians coming after me. The thought made her feel as if a giant fist had clamped its fingers around her heart. Had she been unwise in her plan? Had she acted hastily and not thought of the consequences? No, she had tried—for months had she tried to accept that her calling in life was to be a queen only and an honorary sacrifice for Ailia. Yet the more she had thought about her parents’ lies, the more their lies had bothered her. First, they had lied about her sister dying at birth and not only that, but they even lied about their daughters’ identities. Then, her father had been unfaithful to her mother. What other lies could be waiting out there in the dark? If her own father could do this one thing to her mother, betraying her trust, exchanging it for heated nights with a whore, what type of man was he? Certainly not a man worthy of Lucia’s trust. And if her mother could lie to her so easily, putting Lucia’s life in jeopardy, what type of person was she?
Her child-like love had been tainted, and the penetrating wedge in her heart had started to expand into a vastness of entitlement. I need happiness and I deserve to be happy, she told herself. I do not owe anybody anything, especially Ailia.
“We need to be strategic. I thought we could set up rules for when we are in public. We probably should not even be seen in public together at all after we arrive in Trollsoe. Eiess has her Surtorians out looking for us everywhere,” Soren said.
“I will have you to protect me.” She reached across and stroked his shoulder.
“I cannot always be there, but I will do my best when I am around. I will also have our grandchildren watch over you when I am away.”
She snapped her arm back, her eyes widening, but quickly composed herself. “What are they like?”
“They are wonderful, Lucia. You will love them the moment you meet them.” His face lit up immediately at their mention. “They call themselves the Quartz.”
“The Quartz? Why that name?” she asked, confused.
Soren explained it to her and then added, “It was rather a long process before they agreed on their unofficial name. Everyone finally conceded to Solvei’s suggestion. She is the stubborn one, as stubborn and feisty as anyone I have ever met!” He laughed. “She is the daughter of Alva and Eira and is known in Trollsoe as the most beautiful girl in the city. Dangerously beautiful though, like Erlend Sr. always says.”
She smiled.
“And then we have Martin, son of Alva and Eira. He is a gifted artist and has been painting for years.”
“What does he paint?” she asked.
“Portraits,” he answered, a faint smile shading his lips. “He painted one of you, with me describing the way you looked in your first lifetime.”
“Did he capture me well?” she asked intrigued, almost forgetting he was speaking of Ailia.
“Yes. It is almost like you are looking back at me from the painting.”
“Did I look much different, then?”
“Yes, very much so. The first two lifetimes you looked somewhat similar, but now, it is like you are another woman,” he confessed.
Lucia felt a sting of guilt, but not as much as before. “I
hope that does not displease you.”
“No, of course not. It is you that I love, your heart, your mind, your spirit, not the exterior,” he said. “You are very beautiful now, too.”
She looked at him, but then looked away quickly, feeling the burden surface in her eyes. “Have we any other grandchildren?”
“Yes, there is Stina, Vidar and Erlend Junior, who are Liv and Otto’s three children. Stina is extremely well-educated and has an obsession with music. I will tell you more about that later. Then, Vidar loves to travel and prefers to sleep outside in the back yard. And finally, there is Erlend Junior, the eldest of the youths.”
“They sound like great youths,” she said.
“They are.”
“Do they have any—gifts, as well?”
“You mean endowments?” he asked.
“Yes, of course. I apologize,” she said, feeling embarrassed. No, not embarrassed, just nervous he might see through her stories.
“Lucia, you do not need to apologize to me, ever.” He smiled and continued. “Solvei has magnified physical senses. She can hear and see things from a faraway distance. She can also sense smells well before everyone else. Martin has the gift of ancestral evocation. He has the ability to contact a being who lived in the past, either a deceased family member or any person really.”
“Could he contact me in a previous life?” she asked, a wave of panic hitting her.
“I suppose he could. That would be a fun thing to try!”
“Well—” Lucia hesitated. “I suppose,” she said, knowing full well she would never allow it.
“Stina has the gift and power to dull a person’s senses, by either putting them to sleep, easing their pain, or decreasing their sensory awareness,” he said. “And she has recently discovered that she can induce death by song.”
“Can she kill someone by singing to them?” Lucia wanted to know more about that power and if she could learn to command it.
“Yes, or about them; they do not even have to be there. Granted, she has only tried it on animals, but I am convinced her ability works on humans as well,” he said.
“Can anyone learn this—endowment?”
“No, it is an endowment one is born with,” he clarified. “Her gifts, if used wisely, may be valuable to us as we make our move on Eiess.”
“What about Eiess? I saw how she was able to control gravity. Is that all?” Lucia asked.
“Eiess is complicated. She has other endowments, as well, ones that she has developed over the past few thousand years. She is not a demi-mortal. She is an enigma. Her body, though it appears to be made of flesh and bones, is made of something else. We just do not know what,” he said.
“But we are human, right?” she asked.
“Halfway human. We are subject to human frailties and weaknesses, but we are not as easily killed off as a human. That said, if someone knows our weakness, we become an easy target. Drowning, for example, is the only thing that can only kill you. Eiess is well aware of that. If I were to light you on fire, you would not burn. You are Light, so anything pertaining to light will not harm you. It is the same with me, except I am the opposite of you. I can only die by fire, but not by drowning or anything else. I am a healer and since fire destroys all life, absorbing oxygen, which is the main source of healing, I cannot withstand fire. If Eiess ever finds out my weakness, she could kill me faster than a Viking kills his prey.”
“Is that how I died before?” She cringed, almost believing now that she was talking about herself.
“Yes, both times,” he said. His lips clamped closed, his jaw biting so hard together that the muscles protruded in his face. “The memory of your blue, prune-ridged body still haunts me.”
“What is Eiess’ weakness?” she asked, leaning forward on her horse.
“Eiess is a tough nut to crack. She despises light and seeks the darkness, but she can still endure sunlight and heat very well without dying. It is almost as if she is immune to every element,” he said. “Have you had any inclinations maybe?”
“No, not yet.” She shifted uncomfortably on her saddle. They rode on in silence.
Finally Soren spoke. “Are you hungry? If so, we can stop and eat.”
“No.” Getting to Trollsoe was her only objective, so she could get as far away from Ailia as possible. “And what about Stina, Vidar and Erlend Junior?” she said, trying to keep him from taking a break.
“Erlend Junior has part of the same endowment you have: seasonal manipulation. But his powers are not as developed or strong. He possesses another gift, the gift of discernment. He can read any person, not their thoughts really, but their intentions, their personality, their soul—”
Why had she thought this was a wise decision? Was she doing no more than jumping from one bucket of rotten eggs into another? “If he saw me and did not know who I was, would he be able to tell I was the Great Sentinor?” she asked.
“No, his endowment is not that specific, though it has strengthened recently. His endowment has more to do with reading and recognizing the person’s core or integrity, I suppose.”
She breathed. As long as she did not associate too much with him, she thought she would be able to deceive him.
“Vidar has the gift of environmental adaptation. Do not be surprised if you see him wearing nothing but a summer tunic in the middle of winter. He is not affected by weather. It is one of the most impressive things I have seen. He can also see perfectly well in all shades of darkness.”
“That would be a fun endowment to have,” Lucia said, laughing. “I just hope our grandson is not too interested in secretly watching young ladies undress.”
“He did it one time when he was thirteen, but he was caught and punished sternly by the young lady’s father.”
“What was the punishment?”
“He made him choose between undressing in front of everyone in his household or in paying him one silver coin every month until he turned eighteen,” he said.
“Which one did he choose? Wait, I shall guess he chose the easy way out,” she said.
He laughed heartily, his head tilting back as he closed his eyes. “He chose to pay. He was so embarrassed after that, it made him think twice about ever doing it again.” He turned more serious. “Of course I am not condoning his behavior. Liv was and still is to this day, appalled that her son would do such a thing. She raised them to be good Christian men, seeking after chaste women.”
Christians? Ugh! She started thinking her new life with Soren might not be such a good fit after all.
Soren yawned. “If we ride on further for just another hour or so, we will arrive in Solnes. I know a family there and they would be happy to let us stay overnight. Does that sound like something you would like?”
“Absolutely!” She had never slept outdoors before, other than when she was waiting for Nora at the end of that wretched cold tunnel and it was not something she ever wanted to do again. “There is so much I do not know. I am feeling a overwhelmed at the moment.”
“How can I be of help?” he asked.
“Just support me when I need it. I have a feeling I will be needing a lot of it,” she said.
“I will be honored to.” He bowed gentlemanly on his horse and smiled at her.
She smiled back. He is so gullible, but nevertheless a sweetheart.
They rode on for some time in silence, listening to the sounds of the black forest night.
“We should be seeing the lights from Solnes soon,” he said.
They rode a while longer, but no lights appeared in the distance. Without sound or warning, a little girl appeared on the road in front of them, bloodied, walking with a blanket around her small frame. She could not be more than seven or eight years of age, Lucia guessed. Her big brown eyes looked up at Lucia and then Soren, her face serious, yet without emotion. They stopped their horses and Lucia jumped off immediately.
“Are you hurt?” she asked, approaching the little girl. “Where are your parents?” Her
eyes searched the night, but there was no one in sight.
The girl spoke no words, only stood in silence and stared at Lucia.
“What is your name, girl?” Soren descended from Volomite.
The girl took a step back, cowering with a scowl.
“You are frightening her,” Lucia said. Turning to the girl, she said, “We mean you no harm.” She knelt down in the snow to be at the girl’s level.
The girl’s lower lip pouted out as she closed her sorrowful eyes. A whimper escaped her bruised lips.
“What happened to you, my sweet girl?” Lucia crept closer to the child in an effort to endear the child to her. “Will you whisper it to me?” She held her arms out, welcoming the lost little child.
The girl stepped closer and paused, looking as if she was thinking about whether or not she should say something, her eyes wanting to tell, but her fear probably holding her back. Her body shivered and a lonely tear mixed with blood skimmed down her cheek. She stepped closer and brought her lips to Lucia’s ear.
“The Vikings are here,” she whispered.
27
Viking Attack
After the last traveler had left Brandergaard, an eerie atmosphere lingered in the stuffy longhouse. Sigrid was eagerly weaving on the loom, which was situated in the corner by the back of the house. She hummed an old Anglo-Saxon tune Ailia had heard her sing many times before. Its ghostly melody, combined with the thrall’s breathy voice sent chills up and down Ailia’s spine.