Chapter Eight #3
The march continued as the sky lightened somewhat.
In more ordinary times, they would be able to see the dawn, but the thick clouds still hung heavily across the entire sky, and so all the group experienced was a lessening of the darkness rather than an arrival of the day.
The grey dreariness seemed to have an effect on everyone.
Conversations were hushed, and there was no enthusiasm or laughter to be heard.
“We’d find more cheer at a funeral,” Gunnar muttered.
“Especially if it was Jarl Birger’s,” replied Hakon. “Gods! What an odious man. If I ever get that suspicious and cold, do me a favor and put an axe in my heart.”
At the head of the column, Gunhilde called for a rest stop, and there were relieved murmurs all along the line as people set aside their burdens.
Gunnar trotted off to make sure that Thorulf was coping with his injuries, and Hakon gave Sif a kiss on her forehead before making sure she drank some water from his canteen.
“You don’t have to fuss,” said Sif, both embarrassed and pleased.
“Maybe I want to,” returned Hakon.
They were interrupted by Baedi, who had travelled down the line. “Well done in your learnings,” the Elder witch said warmly to Sif. “Now we must put your powers to the test once more.”
“She’s tired,” interjected Hakon.
“As are we all. But this is important. We cannot rely solely on Eirik to ask for aid. We must see if Sif here can break through and communicate with the Jomsburg and let them know how dire our situation is.”
Sif nodded. “I will try. I’m ready, Baedi.” She glanced at Hakon. “With your permission?”
Hakon tried to hide a smile and nodded.
Sif closed her eyes and centered herself in the way that Baedi had taught her. Within her mind, she chanted the words of the song that would allow her mind to travel, and send her thoughts questing over land and sea.
She gasped. Even within the world of sorcery, the clouds had grown thicker, and darker.
It was like travelling through the woods on a fog-shrouded morning, where even familiar ground seemed alien and strange.
Finally, she passed from land to the ocean and knew that she had left the island of Gotland and was striving for the Jomsburg.
It was then that Sif felt something new. A foreign presence, an echo of a wolf’s howl from far away. She immediately thought of the wolf she had seen trapping Freyja in Folkvangr.
It’s searching for me. Sif did not know why she was so certain, but she had no doubt. She tried to increase the speed of her travelling, to cross the ocean and reach the Jomsburg, but every step dragged, and the thick fog seemed to pull at her, slowing her.
The howl sounded again, much closer this time. Sif could hear the sound of a steady loping run.
She panicked, uncertain of her direction in the choking cloud of fog. She ran but still felt as if her travel was agonizingly slow. Suddenly, there was land beneath her.
Land! I pray this is the Jomsburg. Please, Freyja! Aid me!
Once she had left the ocean, the clouds seemed to clear, and Sif moved with increasing speed.
Wharves and buildings flashed by, and she gave a sob of relief as she recognized the settlement that surrounded the great fortress itself.
There was a flash of movement to her left.
Sif did not dare look but knew in her heart that it was the wolf, pacing her, hunting her, getting ready to leap.
There! She saw her parents’ dwelling and passed through the wall even as the snarls of the wolf grew louder in her ears. Mother! Sif cried as loud as she could, and saw her mother sit up in her bed in shock.
“Sif?” her mother said in confusion, but there was no time. Sif knew the wolf was outside the door, preparing to smash its way in, and that all of their lives were in danger.
On a deeper level of her mind, Sif stopped the song. She cried out in pain as she felt her spirit stretch to the point of snapping. The pain was unbearable.
Then she opened her eyes.
“Sif!” shouted Hakon, his hands on her shoulders. “Sif, are you all right?”
The young witch shuddered and sheltered against her warrior’s broad chest.
“Sacred Freyja,” she whispered. “That was horrible.”
“She’ll not be doing that again!” said Hakon, glaring fiercely at Baedi.
“Easy, young warrior,” said the Elder witch. “I hear you. First, let us try to discover what has happened. Slow your breath, girl,” Baedi said soothingly to Sif. “You are here, and safe. When you are ready, tell us your tale.”
Slowing coming back to herself, Sif related her experience to Hakon and Baedi. They listened without interruption until she was done.
“Well, one thing is clear,” said Hakon firmly. “This sort of spell has become too dangerous. The wolf will be waiting for her. Sif dare not risk this sort of communication again.”
“I agree with you, young warrior,” said Baedi. “At the very least, not until we know more. I must tell my Elder Sisters of what has happened. One thing though.” The Elder witch examined Sif closely. “Do you think any kind of message got through?”
Sif shuddered. “I—I’m not sure,” she admitted. Baedi put a hand on her shoulder. “Whatever the result, it was bravely done. Now I must speak to Gunhilde and Sigrid. Let your young man take care of you, Sif.” Baedi smiled at them both and walked swiftly towards the front of the column.
“Oh, Hakon,” said Sif and pressed her face close to his chest, breaking down into sobs. “It was horrible. I was so terrified, that awful thing was hunting me like—”
“Shhh now,” said Hakon soothingly, cradling her with his strong arms and rocking her gently back and forth. “It’s done now. You’re safe. Nothing can harm you here. I will stand between you and anything that threatens you, and nothing will get through. It’s alright, my love.”
They stayed that way, Hakon gently soothing her, until the call came down the line that the march was to resume.