Chapter 13 Freya
The pace Bjorn set forced me to concentrate on guiding my horse and staying in the saddle, for once we left the main road, it grew rough indeed. The path was narrow and rocky, and it frequently crossed deep streams with treacherous footing. Branches of birch and pine stretched over it, threatening to take the unwary rider out of the saddle at every turn. The air was heavy with the scent of earthy moisture, and it was hard to see very far into the forest courtesy of the thick foliage. Deer and rabbits frequently darted through the underbrush, and the canopy overhead was full of chorusing birds that fell silent as we rode beneath. It would have been a challenging ride on a calm horse, but the mount I’d been given spooked at every shadow, its nerves made all the worse by the wolves that haunted our heels.
Bjorn didn’t stop for an evening meal, only slowed his horse, and dug through the supplies he’d been given, eating while his horse trotted calmly up the path. My own foolish mount nearly caused me to inhale a piece of dried meat when it shied away from Hati for the hundredth time. I was painfully tired, but I’d happily ride through the night in pursuit of the glimmer of hope burning insideme.
Saga was a seer. A child of the Allfather, which ranked her above all other Unfated. He allowed her glimpses of the future as the Norns had woven it, and seers were sworn to reveal the truth of his words lest they face his wrath in the next life. In a world of liars, Saga might well be the only soul I could trust to tell me the truth. Yet it was not lost on me that seers spoke in riddles and prophecy, so truth was not the same as clarity. I would have to glean useful information from what she told me in order to understand Hel’s magic and exactly what she foresaw me doing, because only by understanding the steps the Norns saw me as taking could I confidently walk a different path. Or, at least, not ignorantly stumble off a cliff.
Ahead, Bjorn drew his horse to a sliding stop, the light breeze carrying with it his loud curse. I increased my pace even as I watched Bjorn dismount and leave his horse to wander over to a patch of grass. As the animal moved out of the way, it revealed a woman sprawled on the ground. Bjorn bent to help her sit, and I swiftly dismounted and approached.
Perhaps my age, she had long honey-blond hair woven into a thick braid. She was also shockingly pretty. “Are you hurt?” I asked.
The woman’s eyes moved to me, and her head cocked slightly as she took me in. “No,” she finally answered. “Your husband’s horse startled me, and I fell. But my mushrooms…” Lifting her hand, she pointed down the shadowed slope to where a basket had rolled until it came to rest against a bush, the mushrooms she’d been gathering spilled.
“He’s not my husband,” I muttered. “Go fetch her things, Bjorn. You shouldn’t have been riding so fast on a narrow trail.”
He made no argument, only growled, “Stay with her,” at the wolves, then headed down the slope to retrieve the basket and mushrooms.
Once he was out of earshot, the woman said, “I’ve never seen a man so beautiful.”
“Baldur incarnate,” I said. “But he’s also a lying traitorous arsehole, so don’t let his looks fool you.”
“I see.” She straightened her skirts, and I noticed a piece of hide tufted with fur hanging below the hemline. Not a garment I’d ever seen worn, but who knew what was common to Nordelander women. “I think your underskirt has come unfastened.”
She gave an embarrassed chuckle and reached down to tuck it under her skirts. “Thank you.”
We watched Bjorn gather the mushrooms, and the woman said, “You’re angry with him?”
“That’s an understatement.”
“Was he unfaithful with another woman?”
It was such a pointed question that my whole body twitched. Yet the woman did not seem to notice, her eyes all for Bjorn as he hunted in the shadows for the rest of the mushrooms. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no.”
“Do you desire him?”
“No!”
Her eyes flicked to me, and at my side, Hati gave a soft growl as she said, “So you don’t love him?”
I loved him so much that the emotion set my body ablaze. But I also hated him in equal measure. “You should not ask strangers these questions. It is not right.”
The woman sighed. “I am sorry. I do not spend much time in conversation.”
Bjorn chose that moment to return with the basket, once again full of mushrooms, and he handed it to the woman. “You shouldn’t be out here alone this late,” he said. “It’s not safe.”
“You are thoughtful.” She gave him a beaming smile that made me want to punch her in the face. “But set aside your fears. I will not be alone when darkness falls.” Then she stepped off the path. “Safe travels.”
Shaking my head at the strange forwardness of the woman, I mounted my horse. Bjorn drew alongside me. “There’s a camp not far from here. We’ll stay the night and head out at dawn.” Nodding at the woman, he dug in his heels and cantered down the road.
I followed, noting that both wolves pressed between me and the woman, Hati biting at my horse’s heels to make him go faster.
Bjorn didn’t stop until the darkness was fully upon us and he had to use his axe to light the way. The camp was a small clearing with a firepit that showed signs of use, although not recently given the thick carpet of grass and wildflowers. There was also a worn rope tied between birch trees to serve for picketing horses, and in the distance, water gurgled. Tension thickened the air as we saw to our mounts, then began the task of setting up camp. Neither of us spoke a word, but I saw everything Bjorn did. Heard every breath he took. It was as though the woman’s strange questions had brought to the forefront of my heart the magnetism between us, for jealousy was a fierce emotion and I had ever been victim toit.
In his typical haphazard manner, Bjorn lit the fire by dumping an armload of wood on top of his axe, while I extracted from the bags the supplies we’d been sent with. He took the pot I handed him and disappeared into the trees without comment, and my lip quivered at the silent rhythm because the comfort of it did more to fill the gulf between us than the groveling Gyda had suggested ever would.
Except I didn’t want that gulf filled. I didn’t want to forgive. Didn’t want to step onto that slippery slope that would only see me hurt again. Or worse, used again.
Bjorn returned and handed me the pot. As he did, our fingers brushed together and the feel of his skin against mine sent a shiver through me. Jerking away, I began filling the pot with ingredients to make a stew.
“You need to take care of your hand, Freya,” Bjorn said softly, watching me work. “Gyda repairing your sword won’t matter if your fingers won’t bend enough to grip it.”
“My hand is fine.” My eyes stung, but I blamed it on the smoke as I put the pot over the fire to cook.
“Freya, you hurting yourself doesn’t change—”
“Fine!” I interrupted him because I didn’t want a lecture on my irrationality. Going to my bag, I retrieved a pot of lanolin that had been included and began rubbing it onto my scarred hand. Not half as good as my old salve made with Liv’s recipe, and it smelled like sheep, but it eased the tightness of the skin. And forestalled the need for Bjorn to tend to my scars, as he so often had. I could not bear his touch. But above all, I could not riskit.
Bjorn said nothing, only silently watched the flames while I returned to stirring the stew. A sliver of moon rose slowly in the sky and Hati tipped back his head and howled mournfully.
“Is it really them?” I asked, needing to break the silence. “In his endless collection of the divine, has Harald found Fenrir’s children?”
“No,” Bjorn answered. “Just orphaned wolf pups that he adopted. He has a fondness for rescuing damaged or unwanted things.”
“Like you, apparently.” I tasted my stew and deemed it ready. “Guthrum told me.”
“Like me.” Bjorn hesitated. “Guthrum doesn’t know the full truth. Do you wish to hear it?”
Yes.
“I’ll hear it from your mother,” I muttered. “Odin’s children don’t lie, so I’ll know her words are the truth. I can’t say the same for you.”
“I have no reason to lie to you now.”
“But you had reason to lie to me before?”
He exhaled slowly. “I wish it were otherwise, but yes. My reasons for lying to you were honorable. But my reasons for making you mine while telling you lies had not a measure of honor to them. I wanted you from the first moment I set eyes on you, Born-in-Fire, so I took you. Now I pay the price for my greed because I have lost the woman I love more than life itself.”
My teeth clenched so hard that I swore they would crack, but it was better than allowing the words rising in my throat to fill the air. Though my stew was cooked through, I stirred it again. Stirring and stirring until I was finally able to swallow my maelstrom of emotions.
I ladled our dinner into two bowls, then tasted a mouthful. It was quite good, but I reached for the salt bag and added a handful to one bowl. Stirring the contents, I handed it to Bjorn. “Enjoy.”
Looking me straight in the eye, he took a large mouthful, then smiled. “Delicious. Thank you, Freya.”
Arsehole.
He ate the entire bowl, then seconds, to which he added another handful of salt of his own accord, eating with gusto.
I ate with no appetite despite the fact my stew was excellent. Nor did I argue when Bjorn took my bowl and the pot down to the stream to wash. He returned with clean dishes and a pot full of water, which he set on the fire to boil.
“I’m going for a swim.” He extracted a chunk of soap from his supplies. “The wolves will stay with you, and I’ll take my time so you can do what you wish to do in privacy.”
I watched him disappear into the darkness, the idea of needing privacy from him feeling so foolish given that he’d seen every inch of me. Touched and tasted every inch of me. Just as I had him.
Every part of him is yours, Hel whispered, and I made a face and muttered, “I do not know if it is truly you or if I am talking to myself. But if it is you, perhaps you might tell me something I don’t already know. Preferably something helpful.”
Whoever it was speaking in my head, they did not give me clarity. So I removed my clothes to wash away the sweat I’d accumulated during the ride. Using a cloth, I cleaned myself with the water warmed in the pot. A welcome comfort given the chill of the night air, all while the wolves sat with their backs to me, watching the darkness.
Yet still Bjorn did not return.
Feeling ill at ease for reasons I couldn’t identify, I tidied up the camp. Checked the horses. Laid out my bedroll. Added more wood to the fire. Examined the etchings Gyda had made in my father’s sword.
Still no Bjorn.
“One of you go look to make sure he hasn’t drowned himself,” I said to the wolves, but while they both turned their heads to regard me with intelligent eyes, neither moved.
My skin was crawling and, unable to sit still, I walked to the edge of the firelight and shouted, “Bjorn! I’ve been decent for over an hour! Get your arse back here!”
No answer.
Unease turned swiftly to fear, for while Bjorn seemed keen to test my patience, this was not how he’d do it. What if he had fallen and drowned? What if he’d been dying while I trimmed my fingernails and cleaned the camp?
I drew my sword and picked up my shield, the silver metal gleaming in the firelight. “Hlin, grant me your strength.”
Silver magic flowed over my featherlight shield, illuminating my path as I trotted toward the sound of running water.
The stream was nearly large enough to be called a river, black water running fast and frothy, the far side of the bank hidden by darkness. I found Bjorn’s haphazard pile of clothes, boots discarded next to it, but looking up and down the banks, I saw no sign of him.
“Do you hear him?” I asked the wolves, who had not left my side. No sooner did the words leave my mouth did I hear a woman singing. Hati growled, and as I glanced down at him, it was to see his hackles were up, teeth bared.
Tightening my grip on my sword, I started in the direction of the singer. Whoever it was had a voice to rival Steinunn’s, the wordless song seeming to curl around me, beckoning me closer. The wolves circled around my legs, trying to drive me back, but I pushed past them until I saw two figures.
Bjorn’s distinct broad shape.
And a woman, who swayed and danced.
Bjorn stood waist-deep in the running water, staring up at the woman on the bank. The clouds covering the moon abruptly shifted, light illuminating the face of the beautiful woman we’d met earlier.
And her entirely naked body.
Vicious anger flooded my veins and, extinguishing my magic, I prowled closer to listen, for the song had turned to conversation.
“I want you to take me,” the woman crooned. “I want to feel you inside of me.”
Bjorn took a step closer to her.
“I’m the only woman for you, am I?” I growled under my breath. “You love me more than life, do you?”
That I’d told Bjorn I was through with him didn’t matter, and I cared not whether that was hypocrisy.
“I’m going to kill you,” I muttered, ignoring the hollowness growing in my belly. “I’m going to kill you very slowly.”
The woman stepped into the water, taking Bjorn’s hand in hers and trying to guide it to her full breast, but he pulled away.
“No.” His voice sounded strange. Like it was a struggle for him to speak. “I love her.”
Next to me, the wolves growled, and my own hackles rose. Something about this wasn’t right.
The woman pulled insistently on his hand, and while I couldn’t hear her words, I could hear the invitation in them. An invitation made clear as the woman lay back on the bank, spreading her thighs wide and stroking her sex with her fingers.
Bjorn only shook his head, pulling from her grip. “No.” He pressed his hand to his temple. “I…I don’t want you. I only want her. Only Freya.”
I gave myself no time to think about what his words meant to me, because he was shaking his head as though disoriented.
What was wrong with him?
What magic was at work here?
“Bjorn!” I shouted his name, but he didn’t so much as twitch.
But the woman’s eyes shot in my direction, and she scrambled to her feet with a hiss. “You said you didn’t want him!”
“That doesn’t mean you get him!” I shouted. “Hlin!”
My magic poured once again over my shield and turned the night bright as day, allowing me to see clearly.
My stomach flipped.
Because the woman had a tail.
Long and fleshy with a tuft of hair on the end, it twitched angrily as she rounded on me. As she did, Bjorn jerked as if slapped, his eyes going wide.
Fury filled the woman’s gaze, and she whirled around to face him, revealing to me a back that belonged to no woman. Instead, it looked for all the world like a hollowed-out tree, the tail below it twitching angrily.
Huldra.
The name rose from my memory, a barely forgotten myth heard in stories of my youth. Creatures that seduced men. Bedded them.
And then killed them.
“You saw,” the huldra shrieked at Bjorn, then, to my horror, began to grow. Taller and taller, her body twisting into a monstrous creature with skin like tree bark, the hooves and tail of a cow, and the teeth…
The teeth were unlike any creature born of this world. Long as my hand and curved into needlelike points.
“Freya, run!” Bjorn shouted, axe appearing in his hand. But a heartbeat later, the huldra’s tail lashed out with swift violence. Bjorn tried to move but the deep water slowed him down. The tail struck him, knocking him back into the deep flowing current.
I can’t lose him.
My anger rose, wild and vengeful and half at myself for still caring, and then I dug deep and screamed, “Hel take your cursed soul, you foul creature!” because if anything deserved to be cursed, it was this beast.
The ground beneath my feet quivered, my divine mother hearing my call, but no black roots rose to drag the huldra down.
No soul, I realized a second before the creature attacked.
I barely managed to lift my arm in time, but its mammoth arms slammed into my shield rather than my body. Hlin’s magic sent it staggering away, but I also lost my grip on my sword, the glowing runes winking out. Skoll and Hati attacked its legs, and the huldra screamed, lashing out at them and driving the wolves back.
Howling, I drew the seax, slicing at the creature. Gyda’s knife was as sharp as she had claimed, and the blade cut deep into barklike skin. The huldra tried to strike me, but its hooves rebounded off the magic on my shield.
My next blow took off its wrist, the huldra screaming in pain, but before my eyes its wooden flesh knitted together, hoof re-forming. It attacked, hoof slashing through the air and forcing me to duck. I swung at its legs, but it was too quick and dodged effortlessly, striking again. Its hoof struck my arm, agony spiking up to my shoulder. I bit back a cry, nearly losing my grip on the seax.
I needed my sword. Where was my sword?
The huldra’s eyes glittered with triumph as it pressed its advantage. My right hand was growing numb, and I struggled to keep on the offensive, my movements growing sluggish.
The huldra lunged, its maw reaching for my throat. I dropped to the ground and rolled away just in time. Before I could get to my feet, its tail wrapped around my leg and dragged me to my stomach.
I kicked desperately, managing to free myself, but my shield slipped from my grasp.
The huldra loomed over me, eyes glowing with a deadly light. I reached desperately and caught hold of my shield, gasping Hlin’s name just before its hooves slammed against the glowing surface.
The huldra exploded backward and landed heavily in the brush. If the beast was injured, it didn’t show it as it clambered upright. But I’d gained enough time to snatch up my sword from where it had fallen in the water.
Back and forth we warred, and for all my magic, my strength faltered.
The wolves kept up their attacks, biting and tripping the creature.
Knock it down, I willed them, and as though they could hear my thoughts, they flung themselves at the huldra’s legs.
It stumbled and fell. Blocking a swipe from its tail, I let go of my shield to lift my sword. With two hands, I brought the blade down as hard as I could.
Severing the neck.
The head rolled toward me to stop near my feet. Teeth gnashed and an awful scream exited from between its fangs. The headless body staggered upright, lashing out at me as though it could yet see out of its awful eyes.
I did not know how to kill it. Didn’t know how to put down something that grew back all its parts. That could fight on even with its head severed.
Snatching up my shield, I braced for an attack, wondering if it might be better to run. Better to race downstream and pull Bjorn from the water before he was lost tome.
Knock it down, then run.
Bracing, I stepped into the huldra’s wild swings. The impact of it striking my magic caused it to soar backward—
And a flaming axe exploded through its chest.
Like the driest of tinder, the huldra burst into flame, dancing and screaming. A macabre parody of how it had tried to seduce Bjorn.
Then it dropped to the ground and exploded into ash.
Bjorn stood on the far side of the stream, breathing hard, his hair loose and dripping river water. He was also naked as the day he was born, every inch of hard muscle and tattooed skin illuminated by the light of my shield.
I love her.
His words to the huldra filled my head, and with a curse, I vanquished my magic.
Darkness fell, rendering Bjorn and his muscles just a solid shadow in the night. “You’re an idiot!” I shouted. “You’re the one who is supposed to know the ways of these wilds, but you allowed yourself to almost be seduced by a monster that was half cow and half tree!”
Almost.
“In my defense, she did not look like that at first,” he said, and though I couldn’t see his face in the dark, I could feel his grin.
“She had a cow’s tail, you arse!” I shrieked. “Or could you not see beyond her massive breasts?”
“There is only one woman I cannot see beyond, and it is not the huldra.”
I only want her. Only Freya.
I made a rude noise because I didn’t trust what I might say. Spinning on my heel, I stumbled up the riverbank. Not wanting to risk another look at his bare skin, I did not use magic to light my way and only found the path leading back up to camp when I tripped over Bjorn’s boots and nearly fell face-first into the dirt.
I followed the faint glow of the dying campfire, adding more wood to it immediately and holding my hands over the flames, as they were icy despite my exertion. My heart hammered, my stomach a twist of panic and anger, but when Bjorn appeared, he had a faint smile on his face.
“What have you to be happy about?” I demanded.
“You saved my life, Born-in-Fire,” he said. “Which was only possible because you were worried enough about me to come looking.”
“Do not flatter yourself.” I fussed with my bedroll knowing that the rush of blood in my veins would give me little sleep tonight. “I saved you because I do not know the way to your mother’s home. If you had died, I would have had to go back to tell Harald that his beloved son was killed because he let his cock do his thinking. Then I’d have to wait for him to bring me to your mother, to whom I’d have to relay the same story. I was merely sparing myself.”
“Of course.” He hooked his thumbs on his belt. “How foolish of me to think it might be residual sentiment.”
“Very foolish.”
I rested my head on my rolled-up cloak, pulling the blanket over my shoulders. One of the wolves lay down at my back, his weight pressing against me. Welcome heat against the cool mountain air, but rather than bringing me comfort, I only felt the sorrow of loss for the time when it had been Bjorn at my back. A time when I had absolute trust in him, with my heart and my life.
I knew he cared for me. Loved me. Wanted me. Knew that for all my rage and grief, I felt the same for him. All those feelings refused to be extinguished even though logic demanded that I vanquish them from my heart. But his betrayal hadn’t just harmed me—his lies had resulted in those I cared about losing their lives, and I couldn’t forgive that. Couldn’t ever trust that he wouldn’t withhold truths from me again that might cause more of the same sort of hurt.
Through the flickering flames of the fire, I watched Bjorn lie down on his own blankets, his face cast in dancing light and shadows. Watching me even as I watched him.
I’d never feel the way I felt about him with another man, that I knew. Would never slip the hold he had on my soul no matter how many years I lived.
But it was over between us. It had tobe.
Rolling over, I buried my face in the wolf’s fur. And for the first time in far too long, I wept.