The Light Keepers Read online

  "I need a moment to rest."

  Pressing forward, Astrid wrapped her arm around her mother, trying to guide her to a hay-filled mattress that lay atop a plank against the hut's wall. Isla weakly swatted at her daughter; her limbs seemed too heavy for her to handle.

  "Leave me. Send Balin to me when you depart."

  Astrid hesitated, but her mother yelled, "Go!"

  The young woman crossed to her bed and picked up her fur-lined mantle and sword as she watched her mother labor. Isla eased herself into bed, huffing air as she slid downward to meet the blankets. Astrid considered covering her mother up, or brewing herb tea for the woman, but she knew her efforts would be met with reproach. Instead, she swung on her mantle, fed two logs to the fire pit, and left the hut.

  Balin had propped himself against the outside wall of their hovel, an unflinching sentinel dressed in chain mail. As Astrid exited, she jerked her chin toward the dwelling, signaling for the warrior to attend to her mother. Although the man wasn't her father, he shared a bed with her mother, and had done so for as long as Astrid could remember. When she was younger, their intimacy had infuriated her, but over the years she had come to accept his presence. Balin had taught her skill with the sword, and made seasonal journeys to the nearest villages for supplies. They remained isolated from society, because of her. Astrid did not fully understand the constant need to be hidden away—because of what she was, because of what she possessed inside of her—but she knew it wore her mother down. Though Balin bore a savage scar on his right cheek, and enough hair and muscle to cover a bear, the man tended to her mother with the tenderest affection. Astrid remained angry at his constant confinement of her, but she had to admit silent thanks to him for reducing the pressures her mother bore.

  The warrior acknowledged her with a tight nod then entered the hut. Astrid circled the wood structure; its roof bowed from the heaviness of winter's snow. Ice crunched under her boots as she walked. The cold bit at her lungs, but she took succor in how it enlivened her—awoke her pores and roused her senses. She understood the chill of winter—much like her, winter was also withheld from the life of spring.

  Astrid drew her sword, the slick sound of metal exiting her scabbard as arresting as her mother's song. She whirled the metal in a series of figure eights—a display Balin would have called foolish. The whir of her iron against the air soothed her, and she stopped, gripping the hilt. She fingered the fine scrollwork shaped like an ash tree on the handle and wondered if she would ever meet Hallad in the waking world.

  "Lower your voice or the girl will hear." Balin's gruff tone seeped through the chinks of the hut's logs.

  Astrid stilled, stretching her head around to listen.

  "I care not if she hears," replied her mother. "She risks us all with her selfish, stubborn behavior."

  "Her skill with the sword excels daily. She nearly bested me this morning. I am sure in time her ability with song—"

  "I heard the Mother's song before I could even crawl! She has had seventeen summers! There is nei more time!"

  "Per chance—"

  "What?"

  "Are you sure of your vision? Per chance the girl has nei touch of the Mother."

  "Oh, Balin," Isla's voice sunk, "I wish it were so, but I know. I have seen her future…the future of our worlds…and if she does not open to the Mother, if she does not sing, the Shadow will devour us all."

  "Come love, you tire. You must rest your head. There will be time to try again when your strength returns."

  "I fear my strength all but fades."

  "Hush. Do not speak so. You will recover."

  "Nei, my separation from the heart of the Mother has wrought havoc on my body and mind. The insults of surviving in this land wear on me—fires, killing, pillaging. I can barely hear the Mother here, like a distant whisper on the wind. It is as if my blood leeches from my limbs. Perhaps Astrid's failing is my fault. She may have heard the Mother's song if I had returned to Alvenheim."

  "You did what you thought would keep her safe."

  "Maybe I should have never separated her from the boy. His presence might have given her the extra will she seems to require."

  "Before she managed to ward herself? You would have risked Hallad's protection as well. Settle your thoughts, my heart. You could not have done more."

  "I do not mean to take my ills out on you, Balin," Isla hesitated, "or on Astrid."

  "What can I do to ease your pain, love?"

  "The only comfort to ease me is to hear my daughter's song."

  Chapter 3

  Astrid waited for her mother to sleep, and for Balin to attend his chores. She double-checked her mother's state, holding her hand above the woman's nose.

  Shallow, as if she scarcely lives. Her shoulders slumped at the thought. I keep a terrible secret from you. I'm sorry I am angry that you and Balin isolate me from the world, but I understand. You love me, Mamma. I could not bear to lose you. You are all that I have.

  The young woman resisted the urge to caress her mother's frail cheek and set about her business. She dug into a pouch that lay on the covers near her mother's feet, retrieving the algiz rune stone.

  The door squeaked. Astrid hid the rune stone in the folds of her tunic and turned. Balin's bulk lumbered into their hut, his arms laden with chopped wood. He eyed Astrid suspiciously as he laid the logs next to the fire pit.

  "When I was young, I fought for kings and chieftains," he began in a hushed tone.

  Astrid planted the stone in her palm and squeezed her fist tight around it as she crossed the room to her own mattress. She gathered her mantle, slipping the object into her pocket. She swung the cape over her shoulders, intending to exit, but Balin continued.

  "I murdered men for the glory and riches of rulers. I took lives to satisfy another man's greed. All of it was meaningless. Until I met your mother, and learned of you, I had nei purpose. I stumbled along performing mindless brutalities for others, but your mother gave me a reason worthy of fighting for."

  Astrid started at his words.

  Balin reached underneath the bed he shared with Isla and pulled out a wooden box. He opened the lid and shuffled through his belongings.

  "You will need this in the days to come."

  The warrior retrieved a lamellar breastplate and handed it to Astrid. She didn't reach for the armor, so Balin crossed the room and pressed it into her hands.

  "Not to worry, I resized it to fit you." He chuckled. "I realize women care about their looks, even a woman a tough as you. I would not have you fighting in armor too loose for your form."

  She took the gift and fingered the leather squares, noting the breastplate was lined with intertwining iron rings joined with wire. Chain mail dangled from under the shell intended to cover her upper limbs and stomach. The garment weighed down her arms and she wondered if she would ever manage to wear such a heavy piece.

  "I do not understand how the song works. I am Scandian and ignorant of the ways of Alvenheim. But you are strong, and you will learn it because you must. I have never known you to back down from a challenge."

  Astrid couldn't determine how to acknowledge Balin's speech. She laid the armor on her bed and strutted toward the door.

  "The boy, Hallad..."

  Balin's mention of the young man caught her attention and she stopped, listening.

  "Everyone needs a champion, a guardian, someone that is devoted to the survival of the other. I am that soul for your mother. I know the boy is the one for you. But you need to be worthy of him, because as much as your mother needs me, I need her too. It will be the same way for you and him."

  Astrid met Balin's gaze, his eyes heavy with warning. With that one look, she realized what she must do.

  ***

  Astrid wrapped her fingers around the algiz rune stone, as she leaned her back against the trunk of an evergreen. The mighty giant's branches caught the snowfall leaving the ground bare where Astrid sat. She chose a tree situated far away from the hut that s
he shared with Balin and her mother, requiring solitude to complete her task.

  I cannot fail…for my mother... for Balin…for Hallad…

  Rolling the stone in her palm, Astrid closed her eyes. She steadied her nerves, and listened for the heart of the Mother. Branches cracked, giving way to the weight of the snow. The breeze whistled between the trees.

  Astrid gripped the stone tighter, but the rock lay dead in her hand. Lifeless. Unmoving. She forced her thoughts inward, but met the fear of blackness, the fear that somewhere inside, the power she possessed was tainted by the Shadow. A barrage of thoughts attacked: her inability putting them at risk, her mother's sickness, Balin's talk of the young man's safety, and above all, her mother's desire to hear Astrid's song.

  She reached up and rubbed the heel of her hand across each eyelid, trying to clear away the jumble hiding inside her mind.

  My head refuses to be silent, but I must find a way.

  She thought of her mother's song—her voice like a blanket wrapping her away from the storm. "Sleep, sleep, little one sleep," Isla would sing when Astrid was a child.

  Nei. I cannot sleep before drawing the ward. I must focus on feeling the Mother.

  But her memories pushed in on her. Astrid mouthed the lyrics along with the recollection of her mother's lullaby until she heard herself singing the song inside her head.

  The sound of her own voice startled her. Her thoughts had always consisted of jumbled words and spoken phrases, but they never possessed an audible tone. She marveled in the melody, the vibration spreading throughout her skull as if her voice had awoken after years of slumber. It reverberated out in all directions—clear, high, and lilting.

  When Astrid opened her eyes, a gray-shifting landscape spread before her. Her tune echoed, resounding from far away.

  Where am I?

  She thought the words, but they rang out into the air, each syllable chiming like a bell in the breeze. She spun in circles to catch the tone from every direction.

  "You are here."

  The voice caught her off guard, and she swung around to find the source. A man stood before her, his onyx-colored hair slicked back from his forehead. Pale skin contrasted his dark hair. His body was thin and well-toned. He possessed a fluid quality as if his limbs flowed with liquid, while his face bore unreadable expressions as if in a constant state of change.

  You heard me!

  Her voice resonated throughout the landscape again.

  The man smiled, showing a row of dazzling white teeth. The grin softened his face, transforming him into a stunningly handsome man.

  "Of course I did."

  Do I dream?

  Murky smoke swirled in all directions. The man appeared closer, yet his legs had not moved.

  "Nei, this is real." He spread his arms in a welcoming gesture. "My domain."

  Do I shadowwalk?

  "You've walked before?" He cocked his head, sounding surprised.

  Ja, but always to a place—or rather a particular person, never here.

  "A person? Who would that person be?"

  A warning signal tapped at the back of Astrid's brain—her mother's years of schooling on the dangers of the Shadow. She shifted. Her eyes darted from space to space, seeking an exit. The scenery around her transformed as the fog rolled, creating various forms. One moment the horizon appeared as a forest, the next rolling hills, and then a village.

  The man drew closer, floating through the distance to land directly in front of her. She realized his eyes shifted in shades of grays like the landscape around him. His hand extended outward as if to seek her cheek.

  "You are so beautiful, and your voice," he said as his gaze devoured her, "I assumed it would be extraordinary, but I never imagined…"

  His eyes glossed. He hesitated, frozen in place. Struggling with the effort, he pulled back his hand and glanced downward, clearing his throat. When he returned his gaze to her, his expression was, once again, indecipherable.

  "I've waited so long, and you come to me at last."

  Astrid tested her voice once more.

  How do you know of me?

  Her speech broke loose, escaping around her. Her body lightened as if she had found wings, as if she soared along with her words.

  "Everyone knows of you." His smile spread wider.

  The flesh on the back of Astrid's neck pricked.

  The man edged forward until his chest nearly touched her breast. His exhale heated the skin of her face.

  "I would love you like nei other, if you let me."

  His intimacy frightened her. Her heart knocked at his proximity.

  "I could teach you how to sing. Release your voice to the world," he offered softly as his hand caressed her cheek. "Wouldn't that feel wonderful?"

  The familiar twinge returned to her throat as she shuddered, unable to tell the man no. The touch of his fingers tickled like feathers as he moved across her skin to cup her chin in his hand. He tilted her face toward his, locking his smoky eyes upon her. Then he guided her head to his own, his lips parting.

  Astrid strained—her throat aching to find words, her limbs fighting for the resolve to push him back.

  Who are you? She managed to force the thought forward.

  "You do not know?" he whispered as his lips brushed against hers.

  She shook her head, but the action caused the plumpness of her mouth to catch his lips again, and again. His touch sent a shiver throughout her body, urging her to open up and claim that dark place lurking deep inside—the place she fought so hard to keep locked away.

  "I am your future," he assured her as he closed his mouth over hers.

  Astrid’s eyelids sunk shut, welcoming the uprise of desire. She longed to meld into him and connect with another in a way she had never been able to do.

  "Wake, Astrid, now!" Isla's command jarred the inside of Astrid's head, but the heat of the man's mouth upon hers begged her to ignore the demand. Her pulse quickened, but she finally obeyed, forcing her eyes open—the man and the landscape vanished.

  Isla kneeled over her daughter, panic twisting her features. Balin's hands remained on Astrid’s shoulders, ready for more shaking should she require it.

  "What have you done?"

  Astrid stared back at her mother, unable to respond. Her throat clenched tighter as she remembered the warmth of the man upon her.

  I spoke! He heard me!

  "Did you sleep without setting the ward?"

  The ward!

  Astrid nodded her head, as she drew her legs to her chest, trying to temper the chill that spread throughout her body.

  But I sang, Mamma! I sang in the shadowwalk!

  "Did you see the Shadow?" Isla demanded with a mix of rage and dread tingeing her question.

  Astrid stared back at her mother, her senses numb with realization. Her fearful expression confirmed her mother's suspicion.

  Isla stood, balancing on her warrior's arm.

  "Ready our packs, Balin. We flee this instant!"

  Astrid grabbed her mother's skirts.

  Isla turned to scrutinize her daughter, her voice quavering as she spoke.

  "I have given up my entire life to protect you. Now your foolishness has exposed us all!"

  Chapter 4

  Balin supported Isla with his arm around her waist; the woman pulled tight to his ribs. He would have carried her like a straw doll, but she refused to allow him to bear both her and their supplies. Astrid followed in their wake, the layer of frost crackling as her boots hit ground. She wore Balin's gift under her mantle, layered over her tunic, along with a pack strapped to her back. The added weight of the armor unbalanced her, and she struggled to adjust to its mass.

  Isla slipped, but Balin caught her before she fell. The warrior whisked her along, lifting her for lengthy strides so she hung at his side, toes barely touching ground, until he announced, "We rest, Isla. You cannot keep this pace."

  Balin guided Isla to a rock that was tucked beneath a rowan tree.

/>   "We have not traveled far enough."

  Despite her protests, Isla allowed the man to ease her downward. Air heaved in her lungs as she sat. Her breath turned into a wheeze.

  "We have journeyed nearly a league. The Shadow could not have dispatched slayers so quickly."

  "Nei, Balin. Within a heartbeat he would have sent them through the shadowwalk to ambush us. We must move fast and cover our tracks. The frozen Wettersea should obscure our crossing. Then we can gain the concealment of Kolmården forest. Perhaps we will lose them."

  The sky tinged pink with the fall of the sun. The temperature plunged. A meadow, blanketed with hard-packed snow, stretched behind them. They had stayed to the riverbed where rowans and whitebeams sprung up to provide cover, but the leaf-bare branches—shriveled berries still clinging for a last bit of life—extended little shelter.

  "Stay here. I will check the perimeter and hide our passing."

  Isla nodded. She bent over at the middle, hanging her head. She inhaled in short huffs, a hollow whistle sounding in her chest.

  Astrid fought with the idea of comforting her mother, while Balin hurried out of view. Her mother had not spoken to her since they abandoned their home. The young woman feared any action on her part would further incite her mother's anger and cause her more distress.

  "Time has come." Isla broke their standoff, motioning for Astrid to come forward. She searched her mother's face, but Isla kept her gaze downward. Her mother slipped the algiz rune stone from her pouch—Isla had retrieved it when they found Astrid in the walk—and handed the stone to her daughter.

  "You must set the ward."

  Astrid removed her mitten and reached for the stone. As her fingers touched it, the cool, slickness of the rock sent shivers up her arm, punctuating her skin with goose bumps. Astrid snatched her fingers back. She motioned toward her mother, imploring Isla to sing the ward first.

  "I will show you one last time, but then it falls on you alone."

  Isla inhaled, but her chest constricted. Her mother fought back a spasm of coughs. When the attack receded, she cleared her throat and sang, but her voice rattled and the melody expired, dissolving in the chill of evening. She tried again, this time completing the tune, but the rune stone lay dormant in her palm—neither a glow nor a blanket of protection sprang forth.