Chapter 22 #2
The sun had long set by the time they finished, a thick sheen of sweat clinging to Elara’s brow. Her entire body shook, her mind aching nearly as much as her limbs.
This time, Hlif allowed her to stay on the ground.
She had no idea how she was going to make the trek back to the longhouse, fearing her legs would give out on her.
Hlif patted Elara’s shoulder, handing her a mug of sweet-smelling boiled herbs.
“Drink.”
Instantly, Elara obeyed, her legs curled under her as she sat on the floor by the smoldering fire.
With each sip she took, her muscles unclenched a little more, her mind clearing until she recognized herself once more.
“That is enough for today. Tomorrow, we will try again.”
Days passed, Elara spending much of her time with Hlif, mastering the ability to call upon her light. It came easier now, finding the golden ocean and conjuring flames in her hands that kept the draugar at bay.
Even so, Elara didn’t understand how that light would fix the damage done to the veil, but now she could only focus on one thing at a time.
And with how exhausted she was, her mind drifted to Njáll.
Still, he didn’t come for her, giving her the space she now regretted demanding.
Brielle stayed nearby, hovering like an overprotective mother.
Elara appreciated it, not wanting to be alone after the draining sessions with the Volva. Leif left at dawn and returned at nightfall, offering her a smile but otherwise leaving her alone.
Her hands tightened around the broom handle, needing something to keep busy.
The sunlight hit the floor at an odd angle, and for a moment, the dust motes looked like grey ash raining from the sky. The smell of the hearth vanished, replaced by the cloying scent of decay.
Cold seeped into her bones, and the phantom sensation of nails trailing over her skin made her squirm. Voices didn’t taunt her. No, this time all she heard were icy laughs that made her blood freeze.
“Come back,” a high voice demanded, making the ash turn to mist and the longhouse spin back into focus.
The broom fell onto the floor with a dull thud.
After a moment, Elara’s vision cleared and she met Brielle’s uncertain stare.
“I’m fine,” Elara lied, flashing a tight smile. “A dizzy spell. I should rest.”
Brielle watched her with knowing eyes, but didn’t push, simply dipping her chin.
“Go lay down. I’ll bring you something to help with dizziness. You must take a break. No more training with Hlif for a few days. Not until you’ve regained your strength.”
Nodding, Elara passed out in the furs before Brielle returned, her body feeling as though it had run for too long and too fast.
In the morning, she sat by the fire, poking the embers with a stick, trying not to ruminate on the visions and what they meant.
Alruna sat dutifully by her side, Brielle and Leif unaware of the panther’s stoic presence in the shadows.
Leif had not left this morning as he had with all the others, whittling away on a piece of wood in the corner. Elara couldn’t help but think his presence had something to do with her. That Brielle had told her husband something was wrong with the little foreign girl.
That she was to be feared.
That maybe she had succumbed to the draugar, and they would soon be upon all of them.
And it’d be her fault.
Elara rubbed her sternum.
Njáll.
He still hadn’t come, and she’d been too stubborn to go to him.
Unknowing what to say or how to start.
She missed him. She had made a mistake.
At night, she craved to feel his arms around her, to feel the press of his lips to hers, to find common ground once more.
She could be his thorny rose.
A shadow moved in front of the fire, and Elara looked up to see Brielle standing there, a bundle of furs in her arms and a wide smile.
“Njáll came by before you were awake.” Elara’s heart leapt, a smile splitting her cheeks. “He did not wish to intrude. But he did ask me to give you this.”
Slowly, she peeled back the layers of fur.
A breath caught in Elara’s throat, and she jumped to her feet. Nestled in the swath of blankets slept a tiny, soot-grey kitten with jet black paws.
It was barely old enough to be away from its mother.
Slowly, the creature opened its eyes, and two wide irises the color of sea glass stared at her. It let out a pathetic, high-pitched mewing sound, trying to burrow deeper into the furs.
“A kitten?”
Elara reached out, stroking the velvety fur around its ears, grinning more than she had in days.
“Freyja’s blessing. They bring luck. They are sacred. The only creature as fierce as it is gentle.”
The tip of Elara’s tongue pressed against the points of her teeth, imagining Njáll picking up this little bundle to gift to her.
Something so soft and sweet, yet with teeth and claws sharp enough to draw blood.
A duality.
Like them.
The meaning wasn’t lost on her, and it shattered the last piece of uncertainty she clung to like a lifeline.
Brielle shifted the kitten into Elara’s arms. Elara nuzzled the cat’s soft belly, giggling as it pawed at her head.
“Leif gave me one not long after we wed. Runa. Remember, úlfr?”
Looking up from his woodwork, Leif grimaced, and Elara failed to stifle a laugh.
“How could I forget? That beast hated me. She’d wait in the rafters for me to return, only to pounce on me. I’ve killed warriors with less bloodlust than that cat had.”
The kitten licked Elara’s thumb, the feeling like sandpaper against her skin. It was strange that something so sweet existed here. That one harassed a mighty Konungr, and the other was cradled in her Jarl’s arms earlier.
Purrs vibrated her hand as Elara ran it along the kitten’s spine.
Perhaps Njáll could be the blade wrapped in fur, and she could be the rose lined with thorns.