Chapter 23
“Shall I carry the dress for you?” asks Ari.
“Just keep going,” I reply, panting.
The woolen dress is heavy, but I’m not complaining.
Not out loud, anyway. We must be there soon.
We’re almost at the end of the woods, where the higher levels of the mountains become sparse with vegetation.
No more fir trees, only birch surrounds us.
Surely the Volva would have set up camp within the shelter of the forest.
“Are you sure it’s this way?” I manage to huff out.
“Uh, not really. I was expecting us to have found the camp by now.”
By the gods, here I am following this man, and he has no clue where we’re headed. He seems so confident in his movement and speech that he had me fooled. I’m dying to take a break, rest for a minute. But giving Ari the pleasure of me asking to stop? No chance.
“Let’s rest for a second,” he says, like an answer to my prayers.
“If you insist,” I reply, laying down my dress and backpack.
I sit on a rock, breathing deep and hanging my head between my knees.
My legs ache, heavy as wet wool. The mountain sure is steeper than it looks from afar.
I had pictured strolling up soft slopes as I absorbed the beauty of nature.
Instead, our ascent has been a grueling task.
No time for looking at birds and plants or enjoying the view.
“I’ll be right back.” Ari walks a few paces.
He pisses against a tree, unbothered. Bastard. So fortunate, he can just untie the cord and whip it out, relieving himself with ease. I need to pull down my pants fully over my rump, keeping focus so I don’t stain my new leather.
“You could have gone a little farther,” I shout at his back.
“Sorry.”
I raise my gaze, observing my environment. Above me is the massive waterfall, roaring down the cliffside. The Volva won’t be farther up, I’m sure. It’s probably downhill. A plume of smoke catches my eye. Not far—just down a little and to the side.
“There it is!” I say, laughing.
“It’s rude to laugh. I didn’t mean for you to see it.”
I shake my head at his ridiculous joke.
“Not that, fool. Over there!”
I turn to him—he shakes before tying his pants again. Must be a blessing to be a man. A simple life. A simple life for simpletons.
“Oh, there it is,” he says. “Well done, Kilda, eyes like a falcon.”
I don’t know whether he’s serious or teasing. The smoke would be easy to see for a blind man. But I don’t care what the skald thinks. Grabbing my gear, I walk eagerly toward the Volva’s camp.
Two lavvus are pitched. One larger tent, and another smaller one a stone’s throw away. A fire burns in a firepit by the larger one. Finally, some rest. We have arrived. Victory.
A tall and slender woman steps out of the bigger lavvu, wearing a blue robe, a dark braid lying on her chest. I’m surprised to see she has nothing on underneath.
Her nipples and hips show through the thin fabric, making me toss a glance at Ari to see if he also noticed.
She can’t be more than ten years older than me, a few years older than Ari.
His head is bowed in reverence, as one should before a woman connected to the will of the gods. I follow his example, averting my eyes from her expression of blatant female sensuality.
“You arrive,” she says in a dark tone. “At last. I thought you had been pulled to the depths by dwarves.”
“Forgive us,” says Ari. He is surprisingly humble. None of the intolerable attitude he usually points in my direction.
“Don’t worry,” she replies. “A rolling stone can only land where it’s meant to.”
“My lady,” I start. “I would like to—”
“Elof!” shouts the Volva into her tent. “Elof! Come out.”
The Volva smiles as she looks me up and down. Her eyes judge every inch of my body, piercing my skin. A sharp gaze that peers into what I carry within. She is surreal. The air around her vibrates, I can feel it—waves of energy washing over me. Groa never exuded power in this manner.
“You must be Kilda, then,” she says.
“Yes… yes. I am Kilda.”
“Well spoken, this one,” she says as she winks at the skald. “And you are Ari.”
“Yes, my lady of the staff,” he replies.
“My staff is inside, just call me Ylvin for now.”
The Volva raises her nose and sniffs the air, like a wolf that has caught a scent. She breathes deep, releasing a sigh. Her eyes land on Ari as she grins. What a strange woman.
“Ylvin,” I say. “I am ready to—”
“Elof!” she shouts again. “Come out, by Odin’s beard.”
A grunt comes from inside as Elof prepares himself to join us. Ylvin turns her eyes to me again. They shine like a lake in the summer sun, an unusually bright blue that hints at the powers coursing through her body.
“Kil-da,” she says slowly. “Meaning the source?”
I nod, proud that she recognizes my mother’s choice of name.
“I like it,” she says. “But leather pants? That’s an interesting choice.”
“They are easier to—”
I’m interrupted by Elof finally stepping out.
He is a full head shorter than Ylvin, with muscles bulging in an almost unnatural fashion.
Squinting, he stretches, like he had been sleeping, or drinking perhaps.
Elof is also wearing leather pants, hanging low enough to expose his pubic hair. Very permissive.
Ylvin must have noticed me staring at his crotch, because she slaps the stocky man on the chest—covered in a pattern of red and black paint.
“Pull up your pants, by the gods. We barely know these people yet.”
“Oh, sorry,” he mumbles as he tightens the strings around his waist.
“Forgive my husband,” says Ylvin. “We had a late night.”
What a great start. At least no one can claim Ylvin isn’t open-minded.
“Uh… no need,” I say.
“Enough entertainment,” she announces. “We all need to eat.”
Finally, food. Ari and I had brought some bread and cheese, but not enough for a trek of several hours up a steep mountain. My stomach is rumbling, and I am ready to bite into whatever this mysterious woman has prepared.
“Elof killed and butchered a deer yesterday. The gods provide,” she says. “Ari, you will part one of its legs. Kilda, you will fetch us water.”
Fetch water? More carrying? Fuck me. The meal isn’t even cooking yet, let alone ready to eat.
“I can fetch the water,” says Ari. “If Kilda would rather cut the deer leg.”
Sounds better, not that I have the skill to part an animal. I’m sure I can figure it out. Chopping meat into chunks can’t be that hard.
“Nonsense, Ari,” says Ylvin. “Though I appreciate the gallantry, I have given my orders. After you have prepared the meat and filled two buckets with water, you will cook a stew. Then we will eat.”
Odin’s beard. This woman and her man have just been lying in bed all day, probably rutting like animals. I can smell the odor of sex escaping the tent from here. They could have cooked already, but now I have to cook for them?
“Yes, Ylvin,” says Ari. Gone is his usual defiant wit, replaced by the conduct of a submissive pup.
The buckets are next to the tent. Struggling to control my temper, I walk over and grab them by their ropes.
“Is there a stream nearby?” I ask in my sweetest voice, to mask my irritation.
“Just the waterfall. I’m sure you noticed it on your way up,” replies Ylvin.