7. The Encounter
The Encounter
Larissa
A new set of nightmares arrived the night of Pappa’s story. Even as the days passed, the nightmares remained.
As her eyes refused to open, Larissa knew she was dreaming.
Pain pressed against her chest and cut off her ability to breathe.
Mara , Halla would say. Superstition, Larissa would retort, but the mental argument did nothing to lessen the paralysis in her limbs.
Besides, ever since Pappa’s story, Larissa had been less certain of her stance on the gods and magic.
Although she clung to the warmth of Halla’s unseen body beside her, Larissa slipped back into the darkness.
T here were no windows.
The room was well lit with a modern, electric glow that contrasted against the ancient loom sitting in the middle of the room. Larissa tried to examine the rest of the room, but fog obscured the walls, blinding her to what might lay beyond.
A girl appeared at the loom, but her hands and the shuttle rested in her lap.
She fiddled with a strand of golden thread hanging from the shuttle as a door opened.
An older woman walked in; her hair the color of starlight and her eyes a vivid green.
Her gown was elegantly cut and made of the finest material.
It dipped low in the back with pearls laced across her bare shoulders.
“Practicing your weaving?” the woman asked.
The girl didn’t answer.
The woman sat on the bench. “Do you want to tell me what’s on your mind?”
“I want to go outside.”
“We could go for a walk in the gardens.”
“That’s not what I mean, Móeir.”
A pause. “I know.”
Larissa stood in the corner of the room, watching the girl shake off her mother’s hand. She’d had this dream before, but could never remember the ending. Only the fear.
The woman’s head turned, her eyes locking on to Larissa’s with enough intensity that Larissa stepped back, bumping into the wall. Then the woman stood before her, grasping Larissa’s hands in her own. Shocked by their warmth, Larissa yanked her hands back, but the woman was unbothered.
“You have to wake her,” the woman said.
“What?” Larissa asked, before reminding herself to not interact with the dream. The more she interacted, the harder it was to wake up. A hot sensation burned at the top of her spine. A warning that initiated the start of each nightmare.
“You have to wake her,” the woman repeated, her hands wrapped around Larissa’s arms with enough strength to hurt.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She tried to shake free from the woman’s grasp, but to no avail.
Blood leaked from the woman’s nose, gathering at the corner of her mouth. Her teeth were stained with it. “Then all is lost.”
The woman transformed, her eyes blackening until no white remained. A crown of diamonds dripped from her head. A new face snarled, revealing rows of sharpened teeth. The creature lunged, and Larissa was devoured.
L arissa’s shout was smothered in the cotton pillow.
Shudders cycled through her body, expelling the paralysis that had held her limbs hostage, but the nightmares remained.
Over a week had passed since Pappa’s story, yet Larissa’s dreams were more vivid and memorable than ever.
She dreamed about the Perle Princess, or about Rúna.
Sometimes her nightmares tortured her with shadowy visions of the Empress.
Or at least, Larissa assumed it was the Empress.
It wasn’t as if Larissa had ever met these figures or had any idea what they looked like. All images of the Kings and Queens of Old had been wiped from history. She wondered at the green eyes that supposedly belonged to Queen Stjarna in her dream, so similar to Halla’s.
Not that she would ever tell Halla, who could speak of nothing else. Every day her sister would ask, “Will you tell us about the goddess you saw?”
And every day, Mamma looked at Pappa and said, “Not yet.”
Larissa turned over, squinting against the sunlight. Well after dawn, another late summer day began. Halla hardly slept in when the sun refused to stay in bed, which explained her absence from the room, but not why Larissa had been allowed to remain.
Sure that Pappa had noticed her absence, Larissa raced through her morning routine. Her fingers were still wrapping the band around the base of her braid as she walked into the living room.
“...they’ll be here before Halla’s birthday at the end of the season,” Pappa was saying. At the sight of Larissa, his mouth clamped shut.
Surprise filtered across her parents’ faces from where they sat on the couch. They must have thought she was out in the fields already. Larissa had thought the same of Pappa.
Larissa raised an eyebrow, her fingers frozen on her braid. “Who will be here at the end of the season?”
“The sentries, of course,” Pappa said, but the lie was evident in his eyes. “They always come to complain about the quotas.”
“How are you feeling, bebe ?” Mamma inserted quickly.
Larissa let her hands fall to her sides. “Fine, why?”
The frown line on Mamma’s forehead deepened. “Halla said you wrestled with mara again last night.”
Now Larissa understood why she had been allowed to sleep in so late. “I’m fine. Halla exaggerates. Speaking of, where is she?”
Noticing her deflection, Pappa raised his eyebrows. “The barn. Halla didn’t sleep in like some,” Pappa quipped, but his heart wasn’t in it. He rose from his seat, replacing his hat on his head. “You should head out, we’ve got work to do.”
It was an obvious tactic to move on from whatever Larissa had just overheard, but it was just as clear that Mamma and Pappa wouldn’t share whatever they were hiding until they were ready.
As the screen door closed behind her, Pappa’s footsteps paused.
Faint whispers resumed, but they were far too quiet to be of any use.
There had been more of that lately, the whispers and hushed conversations.
It had all started after Mamma’s claim that she’d seen a goddess.
Shaking her head, Larissa pounded down the porch steps. She would believe that when she saw it.
The screen door creaked as Pappa rejoined her. “Tucker’s in the southeast field,” he said, not quite meeting Larissa’s eyes. “We’ll join him.”
Larissa didn’t speak as they walked through their fields or as Pappa's whistle mimicked the birds of their surrounding forests.
She knew it was pointless to push. Pappa would share only when he was ready.
They found Tucker bent over the patch of strawberries with several buckets already filled to the brim.
Tucker looked up, a grin spreading across his face. “Wasn’t sure if you were working with me today.”
Larissa rolled her eyes and knelt on the ground beside him. “Morning, Onkel.”
“Someone slept in,” Pappa added, picking up the buckets of strawberries. “I’ll take these back to the barn, check on Halla, and grab more empties.”
Larissa’s eyes narrowed as they watched his departure. She wouldn’t be surprised if it took Pappa longer than necessary to return. No doubt, he planned on returning to his conversation with Mamma now that there were no more prying ears.
Tucker nudged a bucket toward Larissa. “Get going, lazybones. We don’t want to be kneeling in the dirt when Sól is high in the sky.”
She glanced at the sun. Tucker was right; they only had a few hours before it was truly beating down on them.
Tucker and Larissa worked in near silence, their nimble fingers cutting the stems a quarter of an inch above the berry.
Only bird calls and Tucker’s occasional jokes punctuated their work.
Pappa returned, although later than necessary, as Larissa had suspected.
He brought some of Mamma’s famous jelly sandwiches, prompting a short break.
Larissa savored the flavor of tart jelly mixed with sweet cream spread over the homemade dough, licking her fingers once the sandwiches were gone.
“Is Halla coming to help?” she asked.
Pappa shook his head. “She asked if she could spend some time at the creek.”
“Again?”
Ever since Pappa’s story, Halla had worked through her chores in the barn with a new zeal, often finishing them with time to spare.
When she was done, she’d cross over the northwest field farthest from the house and through the field that ran up against a thick line of trees belonging to Barnstokkr Forest. A few miles in, there was a stream that burbled over rocks, forming small waterfalls at certain points.
The family would journey there on special days; it was Halla’s favorite place to be alone.
In the past Larissa had accompanied her, but lately Halla preferred her solitude.
Pappa rose to his feet, brushing the crumbs from his shirt. “Let’s get back to it then.”
With renewed vigor, hours passed, and the buckets filled up.
More rows remained to be harvested, but with Sól’s ascension and the rising heat, they would wait for another day.
Larissa stood, arching her back and popping her neck.
She would be grateful when harvest season was at an end.
Though they’d all taken turns transporting their buckets to the barn, several newly filled buckets remained.
Tucker and Pappa collected them, heaving them into their arms, but when Larissa reached down to grab her own, Pappa stopped her.
“Go get Halla, would you? She’s been gone too long, and we’ll need help packaging these up before supper.”
Larissa cranked her neck toward the forests. “Sure, Pappa.”
Tucker eyed the trees with distaste. “I don’t know how you all stand it in there. Jotnar live in the woods.”
Pappa and Larissa shared a look and smiled. “ Jotnar live under the mountains,“ Pappa said, clapping a hand on Tucker’s shoulder. “They won’t bother us here.”
“Those giants live anywhere outside of civilization,” Tucker argued.