Broken: Book 2 of the ShadowLight Saga Page 4

  His green eyes swam with an unspoken refusal, but Emma prodded, "Please, Erik. They are gentle creatures. Nei harm will come by them."

  He squeezed her hand tighter. "I’ve seen a deer stomp a man to death. I don’t trust them."

  Emma smiled back at him, her voice still no louder than a coo. "Do you trust me?"

  He stared at her for a moment. The muscles in his neck loosened as his gaze switched back and forth, searching her face.

  She stretched onto her toes, and placed a kiss on his cheek. She shook her hand from his, and sought his eyes, sending him a silent promise to stay safe.

  His body tensed as she disengaged from him. He stepped backwards a few paces, but not so far that he couldn’t reach her if need be, and she stepped toward the herd.

  Thank you, said the doe.

  Sometimes, Erik can be overzealous, but his heart is in the right place. In that, you won’t find a better man.

  The girl stretched out her hand, offering her scent to the doe. The creature elongated her neck toward Emma, expanded her shiny nostrils, and took in Emma’s smell.

  I’m Emma. What’s your name?

  My clan calls me Livli.

  Are you hurt, Livli? asked Emma.

  The deer blinked back at her.

  It’s just that you seem so sad.

  I fear for my offspring.

  Emma smoothed her fingers over the doe’s muzzle. The fur tickled her palms.

  Summer does not come. Our callers moved us from Everfrost because the land refuses to thaw. All who carry young have lost their wee ones this season. All but me.

  You’re with child? Emma started, but the doe’s sagging belly made the answer obvious; she smiled. Of course, you are. But surely, there’s nothing to fret over here. The songvaris in Glitner can aid you to carry to term, can’t they?

  Nei, songvaris are few and far between. Many have fled the Palace and hide for fear of the unrest between the Palace and the Conspirators. Those who remain have been able to do nothing, except keep the pasture green and our food stuffs plentiful.

  A full belly and warm nights will do much to keep your baby safe.

  Emma worked her way over the doe’s head, rubbing the creature’s ears. Livli complied by sinking her head downward and grunting. All the while, Whitefoot remained perched on Emma’s shoulder, switching his head back and forth between the two. Then the polecat yawned, bored with the exchange, and snuggled back into Emma’s hair.

  You don’t understand who we are. Livli groaned blissfully as Emma’s massage worked down the doe’s neck. We are the offspring of Eikthrynir, the one who helped the Mother create the rivers. Where our ancestor stepped, became the waterways—even the ones you see in the Palace. Where our herd walks is sacred. But if deer walk nei more, then what will happen?

  "Impressive," interrupted a man’s voice.

  Erik pressed up behind Emma at the same time the stranger spoke.

  A young man sauntered to them from out of the herd, positioning himself on the other side of Livli. The sun peeked from the austr, as a pinkish orange hue tinted the pasture. Emma realized that men and women mingled with the reindeer. She could barely tell their forms apart from the creatures, except for the growing light revealed their knee-length, blue belted tunics with bands of bright colors trimming them. She wasn’t sure how she missed them, but Emma was better at sensing animals than humans.

  "None without our lineage can speak with the sacred ones." The man’s pale eyes—so light their bluish-whiteness caused Emma to hold her breath at the sight of them—drifted over Emma approvingly, as his permanently reddened cheeks spread to accommodate a ready smile. She figured him no older than Erik, but the young man’s skin spoke of a lifetime suffering the cold as lines marred the ends of his mouth and eyes, and his brown hair—the length of his head hair plaited down his back, brows, lashes and facial hair—bleached with streaks of white. His coloring reminded her of the doe—a mix of earth and snow—though his eyes seemed like ice with a ring of a spring sky encircling them.

  "And yet, here you are, speaking with my charge. Have you always had the power?"

  "As long as I can remember."

  "Even in Scandia?"

  She nodded.

  "Interesting. Some callers can only manage images. Some can only connect with one species. But you seem to speak with both images and words, and with many species."

  Emma shrugged. "I don't know. I guess."

  "Some say calling is a type of the Mother's Touch, and you connect with her creatures instead of her. Others say callers touch on the dark magic—it's a way to see between like a shadowwalker, but instead of seeing between realms, you commune with other minds. I believe the power is pure and we are tapping into some type of primordial communication."

  Erik pushed up beside Emma. "And you are?"

  The doe’s hide trembled at Erik’s abruptness. Though the deer remained between Emma, Erik, and the stranger, the young man laid his hand over her rear end, and her tremors subsided.

  Emma kept her hands on the deer’s neck, but she stopped rubbing—stillness provided better communication through both mind connection and body language, and she needed to pay attention.

  "I am Daidu, Clan Leader of the Palace Callers." Daidu stood a head taller than Erik, and gave him a dismissive once-over before returning his attention to Emma.

  "I’m Emma, daughter of Avarr from the Village of Steadsby and this—"

  "I’m Erik Sigtriggson."

  Erik reached out to clap the man’s shoulder in a Scandian greeting. The man reeled back as if Erik would punch him, but Erik enforced his grip. Daidu laughed when he realized Erik meant no harm—a jovial sound—and clapped Erik back. His smile spread and encompassed them both, lending charm to his otherwise imposing demeanor.

  Erik added through tight teeth, "Emma is my betrothed."

  Daidu confidently grinned back at Erik.

  Your companion is like a buck in rutting season, said Livli.

  Emma rolled her eyes and replied, So it seems. Please, forgive him. Recent happenings have him on edge. He doesn’t normally act like this.

  He has reason.

  Emma squeezed the doe’s hide beneath her fingers. What do you mean?

  Daidu’s interest goes beyond your ability.

  A hot blush rose in Emma’s cheeks. I am for Erik.

  In the herd, the female gives over to the strongest male. That way, we ensure our young will be born with the strength to survive.

  But I am not a doe.

  Nei, but Daidu is Eikthrynir lineage. He possesses the instinct. And he likes your smell.

  But Erik and I— Emma sucked in a breath as her mind worked. Wait. You’re speaking with Daidu right now?

  Ja.

  And what does he say?

  That you must consider using your ability for the clan.

  How is it that you speak with both of us at the same time?

  It is how it is.

  An idea formulated in Emma’s mind—a hope, an uprising. Then you can speak with others at the same time as well?

  Of course.

  Her heartbeat doubled in time. How far away?

  We use the herd to transmit information over distance.

  Could a deer speak to a wolf?

  Livli shuddered. Why would any deer want to do such a thing?

  Please, Livli, it’s important. Is it possible?

  Ja.

  Could you help me speak to my friends?

  Livli sent Emma flashes of different species of deer spread throughout Alvenheim, showing her how she’d use them to transmit across the distance.

  Emma returned mental images of Svol and Arvak, of the Broken Lands, and Grimnear.

  The doe stiffened at Emma’s request, but the young woman communicated her worry as well, and the doe finally complied.

  "Emma? Are you all right? What’s going on?"

  But Daidu held his hand up, shushing Erik. "Wait, the two are speaking." He gestured between Livli and
Emma.

  Erik tensed beside her. His muscles tightened to the ready, but he held his tongue.

  Then Emma’s awareness of him faded as images washed her mind: jaws lathered with foam, guttural growls, wolves running, their hearts pounding. Run! Run! Arrows flew through gray, clouded skies. Metal slashed into the black wolf hide. Bright-red blood gushed from open flesh. Pain! Hurt! Help!

  Livli quivered, unable to keep hold of the violent connection, and the images vanished.

  "Svol!" Emma cried.

  "Incredible," said Daidu. He gazed at Emma as if spotting a newly formed rune stone.

  "Emma, what happened?" Erik guided her upward.

  Emma’s limbs jelled. She forced herself upright with Erik’s help. Tears burned the edges of her eyelids as water streamed like flooded rivers over her cheeks.

  Erik escorted her away from the doe and Daidu, suspiciously eying the two.

  "What’s going on, Emma? Tell me."

  She turned to him then, but words wouldn’t come. The image of wolves—of Svol—his black flesh opening, blood gushing, accosted her mind. I should have never left them alone in Grimnear! And instead of facing Erik, she turned, her heart set to hammering, and ran.

  Chapter 7

  Emma fled; her skirts splayed as her feet thumped across the grassy pasture. The violent image—wolf flesh running red with blood—ripped apart her insides. I knew something was wrong! I should have listened to my dreams! Why didn’t I go to them?

  "Emma!" Erik’s voice boomed behind her, but she continued onward, not knowing where she was headed, but realizing she needed to move—take action, go forward.

  What if Erik had done the same to me? Left me to Lothar? I abandoned them like a coward!

  Tears blurred Emma’s vision. She ran blindly until her foot caught beneath her. She stumbled, flailing to the ground. Her palms spread outward, catching her fall. Whitefoot tumbled from her shoulder, woke abruptly and hopped to break his descent.

  Watch it! said the polecat. He turned, but as he spotted Emma’s condition, he froze. His nose twitched in the air.

  Emma?

  The girl pulled her knees tight to her chest where she lay. Her body quaked with her sobs. Whitefoot slunk around her, forced his way into the space between her head and the ground and licked her earlobe.

  "It’s my fault," she murmured.

  Whitefoot responded with a flood of licks.

  "I shouldn’t have left them."

  Then Erik’s hands slid over her shoulder. His heat rushed over her as he eased her head into his lap, dislodging Whitefoot from his alcove.

  The polecat hopped onto Erik’s knee; he wiggled his way between Emma and Erik, snuggling the back of the girl’s hair.

  "Tell me what you saw, Emma," Erik whispered, as he stroked her back.

  She hefted herself upright, pulling away from him, wiping the moisture from her cheeks with the back of her hands. Whitefoot stretched his neck in her direction but remained in Erik’s lap.

  "You have to take me to Grimnear, Erik."

  "Grimnear? How?" His eyes swam with concern.

  "Through the shadowwalk. We have to go right now."

  Erik’s head shook back and forth. "Nei, Emma. It’s too dangerous."

  "Nei?" Emma’s voice burst out of her throat. She didn’t care about its loudness. She sensed the herd’s concern for her, back in the pasture, and realized Daidu watched her in the distance. Livli reached out to comfort her, but she continued focusing on Erik. She had to make him understand. "It’s the wolves, Erik. I was right. They’re in trouble. Terrible trouble. We have to—"

  "Nei, Emma. I won’t put you in harm’s way. Ever. I can’t."

  She rushed upright, standing. "You can’t?" Anger seethed inside her—a fury that she never knew existed, as if all her days spent as Lothar’s prisoner suddenly surfaced with such rage, it burned for release. "Or you won’t?"

  Emma trembled. She squeezed her hands into fists, attempting to control the unfamiliar emotions, but her limbs, her fingers, her lips, her jaw—every part of her—shook without hope for containment.

  Erik’s brows sagged. He reached for her, but she jerked away. "I won’t allow it, Emma."

  "You. Won’t. Allow. It?" She squeezed each word through her teeth, digging her nails into the palms of her hand.

  Bewilderment seeped over Erik’s features as if she transformed into a beast before him. His gaze switched between her eyes, searching for understanding, searching for the Emma he knew. "I mean… Emma… I…."

  "You don’t have the right to allow me to do anything!" Her pitch heightened. "Nei one has the right to contain me!"

  His head swung back and forth. "Nei, Emma. I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I need you to be safe. Going back to that place, it’s far too dangerous." He shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands out. "I love you, Emma. If anything ever happened to you... I’d…" Redness rimmed his eyes, intensifying the green of his irises. "Die," he ended in a whisper.

  She stared at him, the anger still boiling inside her.

  Erik’s eyes rounded, pushing up his furrowed brows. He swallowed hard, his throat grating. His gaze pleaded for her to understand, and in that moment, she realized Erik had suffered just as much as she had when Lothar had taken her—just in a different way.

  The combustion building inside Emma diminished gradually, and she slumped.

  "I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I just…" but she couldn’t finish the thought; the vision of the wolves replayed in her memory.

  Erik stood, Whitefoot clinging to his trousers, and wrapped her in his embrace. The polecat hopped to Emma’s skirts and wriggled his way upward to perch on her shoulder.

  "It’s all right. If anyone understands the need to burn off a little fire in the belly, it’s me, right?"

  Erik’s attempt to make her smile failed, and she squirmed out of his hold.

  "Emma?"

  "I’m all right, Erik. I promise." She turned away and headed to the Palace.

  "I’m here for you. You know that, right?" he pressed.

  "I know," she replied, without looking back. She didn’t comprehend what just happened—the uncontrollable rage blazing through her for escape—but she knew one thing for sure: with or without Erik’s help, she would find a way to help the wolves.

  Chapter 8

  The pinkish glow of morning’s sun lit an array of lingonberry, blueberry, and cloudberry bushes, which spread throughout every nook of the Palace gardens. The waterways escaped from the hallways of Glitner, congregating into a pond in the center of the grounds. Silver fish darted in and out of Astrid’s view as the First led her across the grass, teaming with streams, surrounded by the towering white stone and flader bush buildings of the Palace. Swans, geese, and ducks floated nearby, creating an idyllic scene—if it weren’t for the severity of her escort, and the dozens of Palace Guardians pacing the perimeter.

  Why did I agree to be tested? thought Astrid. As if it’s any of this woman’s business what I can or cannot do.

  But the young woman remembered of the plea for compliance on her brother’s face—logical, reasonable, duty-driven Hallad—and continued along the path, following the First of Glitner.

  Even though the First’s demeanor remained stiff, she glided along as gracefully as the water fowl with her white robes trailing in the breeze. Teams of men, women, and children dressed in emerald smocks tended the grounds. When they spotted Ravenna’s approach, they dipped their chins in reverence as she waved them away. Without a word, they cleared the garden, leaving Astrid alone with the woman.

  Ravenna stopped and faced Astrid.

  "The simplest of all songs is asking the Mother for permission."

  The woman held her hand under a bush heavy with golden cloudberries. She hummed a three note melody. The branch quivered, and a fat berry dropped into her palm.

  "You don’t have to say the words. The Mother knows your intent when your thoughts are clear."

 
; She straightened and faced Astrid again. Waiting.

  She knows I cannot speak.

  Ravenna raised her dark brows at the young woman and switched her gaze to the bush. "Go ahead."

  Astrid folded her arms across her breasts.

  The First’s lips spread into a tight line, but Astrid met her request without budging.

  Ravenna rocked her head sideways and sighed. "Not all that sing with the Mother have the ability in all elements. Come." The woman waved for Astrid to follow.

  The young woman considered kicking her in the backside but didn’t want to disappoint Hallad… again. She clenched her jaw, and trailed after the First as the woman led her to a statue.

  Stone, entwined with blades of green, sprung from the grass below, forming a bowl that sat on top of the ground. A stem spiraled up from its center. The top of the stem rolled outward, creating the head and antlers of a reindeer.

  Ravenna hummed again. This time she waved her hand over a rune stone weaved in the neck of the deer. Water spewed from the statue’s mouth, cascading into the bowl below.

  "The rune acts as a helper for those who are not as touched. They were created by songvaris to act as a focal point for a specific task so that those born with lesser ability could still connect."

  Once again, Astrid folded her arms across her chest.

  "Did you hear the notes?" Ravenna studied the young woman.

  Of course, I heard them. I’m mute. Not deaf.

  "Repeat them for me, one at a time." Ravenna sang each note as if she taught a slow-witted child, stretching each tone out for an obnoxious period of time.

  When Astrid didn’t comply, the First asked, "Can you even feel the Mother?"

  She cocked her head as if examining a chicken for wings.

  I’d like to feel my fist against your face.

  Talking to yourself again, Sister? Hallad’s words interrupted. What’s going on? I sense your stubbornness.

  She knows I cannot speak, and yet she asks me to sing.

  She’s evaluating your ability.

  We should evaluate her intent.

  Come, Sister, cooperate. We need her knowledge to help us discover what we must do.