Song and Sword (Viking Masters #3)

Prologue

Beginnings

Twenty-two years ago

Brynn paced back and forth, wearing a trench in the snow in front of the dwelling.

“Loki’s balls, Huw!” he burst out, gesturing at his friend who was leaning against the wall by the door. “How can you possibly be so calm? Your wife is in there, too, you know!”

“The fact had not escaped me, old friend,” replied Huw dryly.

For all that he seemed to be leaning casually, his hands were closing into fists every time that his wife Astrid cried out from within.

“But it is also true that Greta is the most skilled midwife on this side of the Baltic Sea. Our wives could not ask for better care.”

“Greta certainly knows little of fear! Thor’s goats, I thought she was going to freeze my innards when I told her I wanted to stay by my Kasia’s side,” said an exasperated Brynn.

“I heard all three of them shout at you to get out,” chuckled Huw.

“Who knew our wives were such traditionalists?”

There came a pair of long cries, drawn out and painful.

“That’s it,” announced Brynn, stopping his pacing. “I’m going in.”

“If Greta doesn’t cut your throat, your wife will murder you once she feels up to it,” observed Huw.

The cries abruptly stopped and were replaced by the furious squalling of newborn babies.

Huw made it inside a fraction of a second before his bulkier friend. Within the dwelling, Greta the midwife was using a cloth to clean off two babies, with the assistance of her apprentices. The midwife’s glare softened as she saw the anxious faces of the two Jomsvikings.

“Two mothers healthy, two new humans in the world,” she announced. “Brynn, you’ve another son. Huw, you’ve a daughter. Give them a look, then let us swaddle them and get them fed.”

“A son!” said Brynn, stunned. “Two boys, Huw! My Gunnar, and now little Hakon! Two boys!”

“A daughter,” murmured Huw, a smile creeping across his face. “A little girl to raise.” He moved over to Astrid, gently wiping perspiration from her face. “We have a daughter, my love.”

“A daughter?” repeated Astrid faintly, looking up with loving eyes at Huw. “Oh, my love. Let me see her.”

Huw carefully took the furious baby girl from Greta and gently lowered her onto his wife’s chest. Astrid smiled. “She’s beautiful.”

Behind them, Huw could hear Brynn saying earnestly to Kasia, “He’s got two arms, two legs, and a magnificent cock, my love! A perfect little warrior! He’ll be dropping foes in no time! And his brother can teach him and look out for him while he’s still learning…”

The sound of Brynn’s chatter receded into the distance as Huw focused on his wife and newborn daughter. “Such golden hair…” he murmured, stroking the wisps of hair on the tiny head.

“Then she shall be Sif”—smiled Astrid—“after Thor’s wife, Sif of the Golden Hair.”

***

In the gathering hall of the Ironwood Witches, the sightless Lady Brede lifted her head and turned it slightly, as if sniffing the air.

“You felt it, too, then,” observed Baedi, who sat beside her.

Brede nodded. “For good or ill, things have been set in motion,” she said.

***

Fourteen years ago

Astrid’s ears caught the change in tone of the noise generated by the children’s play. She set aside the dough she had been kneading and walked swiftly outside, catching the eye of her friend Kasia, who had clearly heard the same thing and was also moving to find out what had happened.

Gunnar, the leader of the children by virtue of being the oldest, was sitting on his bottom in the dirt, trying not to cry as he held onto his own palm and swung his right hand back and forth.

Hakon and Sif stood a small distance away, looking at him with a mixture of surprise and worry.

Sif’s chin had a stubborn tilt to it. A broken tree branch lay next to Hakon.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” asked Astrid briskly, her floury arms folded.

“She didn’t mean to do it,” said Hakon quickly. “It was because of me anyway.”

“I did mean to do it,” said Sif stubbornly. “Gunnar was being a bully, and that branch was much too big to use as a sword. He could have really hurt you!” Her voice had a small tremble to it.

“So I think we have where things began,” said Kasia, raising an eyebrow. “But where did they end, I wonder?”

“Sif, what did you do?” asked Astrid sternly. As Hakon drew breath, she said, “I’m not asking you, young man. I’m asking my daughter.”

Tears welled up in Sif’s eyes. Whatever had happened, the shock was wearing off.

“I didn’t mean to, Mama. When Gunnar struck Hakon with that big branch, I just told Gunnar to stop, and it was like the air twisted the words as they came out of my mouth.

He cried out, dropped what was left of the branch, and he’s just been sitting there! He won’t even let us look at his hand!”

Kasia strode forwards and went down to one knee in front of her oldest son, whose face was red with the effort of not crying. “Open your hand, Gunnar,” she said softly.

“It hurts!”

“I know. But we can’t fix it until we know what’s happened to it,” said Kasia, keeping her voice calm and low.

Slowly, Gunnar uncurled his fingers. Most of his hand appeared unchanged and undamaged, but on the meatiest part of his palm was a raised weal that looked as if the boy had been marked with a tiny brand.

Kasia forced herself not to gasp and said in an artificially calm voice, “Astrid, come and have a look at this.”

The flesh was raised and an angry red in the shape of a z that had been reversed and placed on an angle.

“Eihwaz,” murmured Astrid in disbelief. “She marked him with a rune.”

“Gunnar, my dear, let me take you inside,” said Kasia soothingly. “I have a salve that will make your hand feel better.”

“Wait,” said Astrid. “Sif owes you an apology first.”

Sif looked to the left and right, paused then finally stepped forwards. “I’m sorry, Gunnar,” she said. “I didn’t know that was going to happen. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s okay, Sif,” replied Gunnar, his voice a bit shaky. “I shouldn’t have hit Hakon with the branch. It looked so much like Father’s battle-ax, and I got carried away.”

“Alright, children,” said Astrid, “let Kasia tend to Gunnar. Hakon, Sif, if you two behave, you can help me with the pies, and we can all enjoy them together once they’ve cooled.”

***

“She’s powerful,” said Astrid. “More powerful than either Kasia or I were at that age.”

“Or older, really,” added Kasia. “Sif did that without any instruction of any kind. She just thought it up and did it.”

“So what would you have us do?” asked Huw, a shade gruffly. “We agreed that the Ironwood was to be by her choice only, and Sif’s too young to make that choice.”

“I know,” sighed Astrid. “Maybe if we fostered her with Ignetha and Thorulf? They’ve two children of their own, now…”

“I’m not sure how that would make sense,” observed Brynn. “She’d be as likely to have some sort of accident there as she would here. And Ignetha and Thorulf are homesteaders. It’s a little more dangerous, farther north, even if they are close to Visby.”

“I just thought Sif might be less prone to magical accidents if she wasn’t near Hakon,” explained Astrid. “She always seems more agitated and less focused around him…”

She was surprised by the laughter of the other three. “Have you not figured out why that is?” asked Kasia, bemused.

“No…” said Astrid, disbelievingly. “Sif has a crush? So young?”

“Only since they were old enough to walk,” scoffed Huw. “They both do. Honestly, my love, how have you not seen it?”

“Hmph. I just thought they were close because they were the same age,” mused Astrid.

“I mean, I wondered, but I put it down to wishful thinking on my part, I suppose. Well. I agree with the three of you that she’s too young to be sent away.

But we all have to keep a watchful eye on her!

Another magical accident could end up much worse. ”

Six years ago

Huw and Brynn regarded the figures of Gunnar and Hakon standing in front of them, knees slightly bent, each with an unsheathed sword in one hand.

“Well, I think we’ve found them,” said Huw in a dry tone.

“Hakon, Gunnar, don’t be ridiculous,” said Brynn curtly. “We don’t want to hurt the girl. For Odin’s sake, she’s Huw’s daughter!”

“You want to send her away,” said Hakon.

“Hakon, lad, listen to me,” said Huw calmly. “I’d sooner lose my hand than see Sif hurt. But surely you can see that she needs help. That boy was what…seventeen?”

“Old enough to know what he was about,” shot back Gunnar. He turned to Brynn. “Alvar was going to rape her, Father! If Sif hadn’t killed him, I would have!”

“I know, Son, I know,” replied Brynn. “Nobody is disputing that the boy was in the wrong. There were witnesses who saw him seize the girl. His parents are not even demanding were-gild,” he said, referring to the payment that could be demanded in the event of a wrongful death.

“Nor should they!” said Hakon hotly. “What Alvar did was unthinkable! They were friends, though I never liked him. There was a darkness in him, even when we were children. Sif did nothing wrong ridding the world of a person like that!”

“You won’t find any disagreement from us, lad,” said Huw.

He took a step forwards but stopped as both Hakon and Gunnar lifted their swords in Huw’s direction.

“Careful, the two of you. Let’s not see anyone else hurt.

We’ve been worried about all of you, understand?

Your mother has been weeping with grief for the past two days! ”

Brynn also took a step forwards, pretending not to notice as Hakon’s blade shifted his way.

“What is your plan here, boys? Take Sif and live the lives of outlaws? You’re too young, and I’m hoping that you’re both smart enough to know it.

I won’t have my sons lose their lives to the first band of ruffians they come across, let alone give my best friend’s daughter up to that same band’s cruelty! ”

Huw took another step forwards. “You know that your mother was raised by the Ironwood. You’ve known that your whole lives, just as you’ve known that Sif’s mother was raised in the same place!

They grew up healthy and safe, and knowing how to use their powers.

Sif needs to learn how to use hers. Lads, my daughter’s magic is stronger than anything that Astrid or your mother have ever seen.

If she doesn’t learn how to use it properly, who knows what could happen?

Sif’s already shown that she is going to cast magic, whether she wishes to or not.

Doesn’t she deserve the chance to learn how to use her gifts safely? ”

“My father is right,” came a voice from above, from the branches of the great oak tree Hakon and Gunnar stood in front of. “I can’t risk it. I don’t want to hurt anyone by accident.”

Hakon was warrior enough not to take his eyes from his opponents, even as he spoke to Sif. “I don’t want you to go. They won’t let me come with you, Sif. They’ll split us apart,” he said.

Sif descended the tree and stood behind Hakon, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I know they will,” she said softly, “but only for a time. If the Fates mean for us to be together, there is nothing that can stop us.” She moved her hand to place it on Gunnar’s forearm, gently pushing his sword arm downwards.

“Your father is right,” said Sif, “we are too young. Go, and strengthen your abilities, while I go and strengthen mine. If our destinies are what we imagine them to be, no one can stop them, they will unfold. Fate is fate.”

Hakon gave a deep sigh and sheathed his sword. “Fate is fate,” he echoed. Gunnar followed his lead and sheathed his own sword.

Brynn stepped forwards and put his huge arms around his sons’ shoulders. “So it is, my sons. It’s a hard rede to follow, but there’s none truer.”

***

When the slender figure on the outgoing longship could no longer be seen, Hakon turned to Huw, his uncle in all but blood. “I know I should tell myself that she will be coming back, but I have a confession to make, Uncle.”

Huw raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yes?”

“Yes. I don’t want to think or act reasonably or logically. I want to get drunk until I don’t feel anything at all.”

Gunnar grunted. “You rarely act with your brain where Sif is concerned.”

Huw laughed and clapped a hand on his nephews’ shoulders. “Come with me, lads. If your father tries to stop you, I’ve a few stories I can unleash from the treasure chest of memory. That being said, something tells me he will not be trying to stop you tonight.”

The three walked towards the old-timers’ favorite inn, the Wanderer.

***

The salt water hit Hakon’s face like a ringing slap. “Gods above and below!” he cursed. “What in the nine worlds was that for?”

Gunnar set the bucket down, grinning at him. “You don’t remember, do you?”

Hakon pushed his soaking hair out of his face. “Remember what?”

Gunnar laughed and gestured to their father, who came walking up. “That’s a silver piece you owe me,” he said. Hakon was becoming uncomfortably aware of his surroundings, noting the abundance of hay beneath him and the smell of manure. His mouth was terribly dry, and his head ached.

“Best make yourself ready, my boy,” boomed Brynn, and Hakon winced. Had his father always been this loud? Sensitive to the pounding in his head, the young man murmured, “Ready for what, Father?”

“We’re shipmates, you and I,” said Gunnar as he grinned. “Got a place in the longship of Thorfin Sigurdson.”

Hakon stood up, trying to settle the lurching in his belly. He blinked in confusion as he tried to process this information. “But Thorfin goes…”

“That’s right!” said Gunnar. “Thorfin takes the Long Road to Miklagard.” He helped his younger brother walk out of the barn and into the sunlight. “Last night, you swore an oath to join Thorfin and serve a term with the Southern Emperor’s Royal Guard.”

“Sacred Odin,” breathed Hakon. “Why didn’t anyone stop me? I must have been drunk out of my mind!”

“It’ll be good for you, lad,” rumbled Brynn. “Save you from moping around the docks, looking for a certain someone who’s not likely to be back for a while. And besides, your brother’s going along with you.”

“You signed up as well?” blinked Hakon.

Gunnar laughed again. “I wasn’t going to let you go on your own, was I? You don’t get to claim all the glory. I don’t care how good you are with a sword, you’re still my little brother!”

Hakon began to feel a little steadier on his feet then suddenly stopped. “Oh gods. Does Mother know yet?”

Brynn gave an evil grin. “That’s your first battle, Son. Face it bravely.”