“How did you die?” I asked.
“Trying to protect you. Another wolf leapt onto me as I stabbed the wolf who bit you.” He shook his head. “I sound like I’ve lost my mind, but it was like… It didn’t feel like the stories of Ragnarök. The entire world wouldn’t have ended from their attack. But it was devastating to me because everything in my world ended.”
“Did you see what happened after you were killed?” I didn’t know how, but I knew he’d seen it all.
“They just… left. Once everyone was dead, the pack of wolves raced back across the fjord and disappeared. I’m not sure how I knew that, because I was already dead. Maybe my spirit watched them.”
I stepped in front of him and met Hodor’s eyes. “I won’t pretend to understand what happened with Tor, and I know how much you loved him. He’d been yours since we lost Oskar. But… I do know that wolves cannot run on water. I think the dream on the eve of Winternights was a bad omen, but you cannot let it shake you so thoroughly. Father is watching, and you’ll have to face him tonight.”
He nodded. “You’re right. As usual.” Hodor finally smiled. “And you will have to face Mother,” he reminded.
“And a seeress. Father told me she asked for me by name.”
Hodor’s brows pinched.
I hated that she’d asked for me. Why couldn’t she just visit the Jarl like all the others and bestow her wisdom upon him?
Hodor traded places with me and I sat on the boulder as he braided my hair back and out of my face. He and I had been close with Oskar, but after he died, the two of us became inseparable. There was a silent vow between us that both knew and never spoke. He and I would fight back to back if another attack occurred. Neither of us would let the other fall. We should have made such a plan before… and included our brother. Then he would be here with us. He would watch us battle tonight and have a nervous stomach as he waited for his chance to fight for his shield.
There was a huge age gap between me and Hodor and our three younger siblings. Mother gave birth to three dead sons between Oskar and Gunnar. She claimed to have been cursed during the attack and worried she’d never have another child to replace the one she lost. But she eventually conceived and then bore Gunnar, Ingrid, and Solvi. Three living children to erase the luck of the three born without breath.
Hodor and I were the only ones in our small village who were of age to fight for their shields. Most had grown up and moved on before us; many left the village for larger towns, or were too young, like our siblings.
“Good luck tonight,” he said, finishing the final of three plaits.
“You too.”
“At least Father’s somewhat predictable. Mother… you never know what she’s thinking or what she’ll do next. She adapts moment by moment. She’ll attack when you least expect it.”
I blew out a breath. He was right. Father was straightforward. He just tried to cleave you in two. He was strong, but tired easily these days. Hodor just had to outlast his strong offensive.
Mother was a raging storm, and I was the only thing in her path this evening.
More than being worried that I wouldn’t best her and earn my shield, I worried that I’d shame my parents. I’d sparred many times with her before and hadn’t won once.
Hodor came close to beating Father a few times, especially when his back ached, but by now, Mother and Father were on their second or third cups of mead and feeling limber and more than ready to enter the sparring ring.
Father had shaved the sides of Gunnar’s head and painted runes over the exposed skin. He was only six, but his small chest was puffed up. Father had tied a tiny shield onto his back and fastened his training sword to his hip with a piece of leather cord. “You look ready for battle.” I nodded proudly.
“I am,” he replied resolutely.
I raised my arm and he gave me a quick hug before straightening his clothes.
“Where are Ingrid and Solvi?”
“Mother is braiding Ingrid’s hair. She wants you to tame Solvi’s.”
Ah, Solvi’s pale, wild curls. The bane of Mother’s existence.
Hodor walked to the pen holding the animals he would have to slaughter tonight, a length of rope coiled on his hip. He would lead them, one by one, to the celebration where he would end their lives quickly and collect the animal’s blood for the seeress.
Hodor loved animals, even the weakest among our herds. But he knew his duty and would honor it well.
I walked inside our home and spotted Ingrid with her knees curled into her chest as Mother stood over her, working her hair into tight braids. Ingrid shot me a shy grin. She loved having her hair combed and toyed with.
Solvi leaped at me from the tabletop. I hadn’t even noticed her climbing her way up onto it. I caught her and spun her around, then pretended to drop her into the hearth, catching her at the last minute. She squealed in delight. “Let’s tame your hair, hmm?” I carried her across the room to her bed where she flopped down onto her knees and turned toward the wall. Her comb and leather ties were already laid out.
“Mother said the völva wants to speak to you,” she whispered, her wide, blue eyes looking up at me.
“Seeress,” I corrected. Some women, and men for that matter, were gifted by the norns who wove every living thing’s past, present, and future. Seeresses could see and sense things we could not. They were sought after, respected, vital to a chieftain who wanted to plead to the spinners to allow his people to thrive.
A völva was something altogether different. The völva were witches, called by the norn Skuld. They were wed to their wands and their wands could spin the fates of humans. They were much more dangerous than a mere diviner. I’d heard they wore blood and read futures with the bones of animals. That they could kill with a look or raise the dead with a rune.
“She is right,” Mother said from across the room, warning in her tone. “It is a völva who wishes to speak with you – after we spar.”
A shiver scuttled up my spine like a millipede, each of its legs tickling my skin.
Her eyes locked with mine, hers flinty and filled with warning. “I cannot go with you to see her. She asked for you to come alone.”
“I don’t need you to come.”
She gave a sliver of a smile. “I cannot go easy on you, either.”
I gritted my teeth. I would never ask her to let me win. I’d rather return home ashamed. “I will earn my shield.”
She nodded and assessed my clothing, clothes I’d borrowed from her. “You very much remind me of myself at your age, Liv.”