New Story: Lost in the Dark Chapter 1-2

Ihr Lieben,
die Geschichte wurde auf fanfiktion.de gesperrt, weil sie dort wirklich und ausschließlich deutsche Geschichten anbieten. Ist ja auch gut so, hilft gegen Kuddelmuddel.
Ich werde jetzt einfach abwechselnd mit Worlds Apart hier updaten, ich hoffe, ihr fühlt euch nicht gekuddelmuddelt :)


Beste Grüße und viel Spaß mit den ersten zwei Kapiteln


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Prologue

When I opened my eyes very carefully there was nothing but darkness around me for a few brief moments. Suddenly there were voices not too far away and I flinched. I tried my best to sit up on the cold floor, throwing a gaze around the almost black room. My hands were tied together and I felt bile rising in my throat.

How long had I been here? It seemed that every bone inside my body was hurting and my head was spinning. Carefully I turned into the direction of the voices and pricked up my ears but the language was definitely foreign. Listening closer I even shut my eyes again to catch only a few more words. It was men speaking, three, maybe four. They kept the sound of their voices very low but after another few intense seconds I suddenly realised that the language was not as unfamiliar as I had thought at first. They spoke Norwegian, at least it sounded similar.

To my relieve I heard one of them say something that sounded like “no harm to be done” and I was praying that he was talking about me. Another man laughed and I heard heavy steps moving further away. “Father will decide.” Then a door was closed and the room fell silent again. Even though the language sounded familiar, I didn’t get every word. I had learned Swedish and Norwegian as a child and later even took Finnish-lessons. By now I made a living of it by being a tour guide for Scandinavians that came to Ireland and explore the country their ancestors had once invaded so brutally in the ninth and tenth century.

A weighty item was suddenly pulled over the floor behind the thin wall of my prison. I heard another man sigh lowly. He mumbled something that sounded as if he was mocking the man that had just left.

Father will decide.

Whose father?

Cold and scared to the centre of my very soul, I simply remained sitting. I put my forehead to my knees, thankful that I was still wearing my warm rain overall because I was shaking like a leaf.

My heart was beating in my ears by now and if I had not been too scared to even make a sound, I would have cried and maybe screamed at the top of my lounges. Frightened out of my wits I stayed where I was, almost jumping out of my skin when the door was yanked open. As quickly as I could I crawled backwards when a man approached.

He carried a plate and a candle and I felt blinded by the sudden light, however small it was.

Squinting I stared into his face that was weirdly illuminated by the candle, somehow expecting the worst already. He was young, maybe in his mid-twenties. The small beard on his chin was thin even though he had decorated it with three wooden pearls. There was blood on his face and his lip was chapped.

Putting down the plate in the middle of the little cell, he raised his hands in my direction, mumbling soothingly. If I had not already been at the peak of my fear, I would have felt like a shy horse or a fearful little child by the way he spoke to me. He didn’t come any closer, only put down the candle next to the plate on the floor. His blood-caked fingers pointed at me again and he made a gesture towards his mouth.

“Share my food.” He repeated over and over again and even took a piece of bread and started eating. Maybe to show me that it wasn’t poisoned.

“Eat, eat!” he insisted, cocking his head to watch me closely. The small smile he gave me showed two missing front teeth.

But right at this second I was too distracted by the leather cuirass he wore, the axe he carried on his back, and the black tattoo of a raven that covered his entire forehead.

Chapter 1

“Mate, tell me you’re kidding!” exhaling in annoyance, Sami took the mobile from Raul’s hand. They had installed this stupid app only this morning but it seemed to lose the GPS signal every few minutes.

“Sorry, mate, maybe that shitty fog is simply too thick!” Raul put down his backpack and fetched a few maps from its front pocket. “Let’s do this the old fashioned way, okay? Nah!” quickly he shook his head and lowered the map Riku was reaching out for. “You got the sense of direction of a boiled sausage, give this to Osala!”

Grumpily Riku did as he was told, sipping his water bottle.

The four of them had been hiking for over ten hours by now and they were all tired and in desperate need of some rest. But somehow they had gotten lost in the fog.

It was the 30^th of April and the weather forecast had been excellent. But right now they were running around like a bunch of headless chickens because soon the night would start falling and they hadn’t found their meeting point yet.

“Maybe you should call Samu again.” Riku suggested while Raul and Sami were busy fighting over the best way to continue and pointing in opposite directions.

“His cell is still off.” Raul grunted back. “That bastard is taking his week off quite seriously.”

“How ‘bout a tent then?” Riku suggested carefully, knowing Raul and his temper. “Here and now. We wait for the morning and hopefully the fog to disappear.”

Sami gave him an affirmative look, nodding at Raul. “Maybe it’s for the best. Come on, mate. We have been lost for hours and I am tired. Let’s rest for a bit and see ‘bout that meeting point tomorrow.”

Raul nodded defeated, carefully folding his maps. “There was an accumulation of rocks only a few steps away.” He pointed into the fog. “Let’s go there, it should be a protected place for a tent.”

Lying on his back in his sleeping bag, Riku listened to the sounds of their surroundings. Slowly he sat up between his two friends after a while, listening closer.

There was nothing. No wind in the trees and bushes, no rustling or cries of animals. There was nothing.

It felt like a pressure in his head, a vacuum.

He knew that he didn’t have the best sense of direction, but he had always had something his mother used to call his “special sense”. And right now this sense told him that there was something fishy about their situation. Something was very wrong here. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it was there.

Very carefully he crawled over to the zipper of the small tent, pulling it open. Still there was no wind outside, not even a breeze, but somehow it felt cold. Shivering he slipped into his hiking boots and his bright blue outdoor jacket. What the hell was wrong with this place?

His flashlight didn’t seem to illuminate the surroundings, but he left it on even so, trying to be courageous. Most probably there was nothing, only thick and annoying fog that would be cleared tomorrow morning. Still listening to the almost unbearable silence, he kept walking forward carefully.

The fog seemed to become even thicker and Riku felt like he could almost taste it with every breath. He had to get back into the tent, this simply didn’t make sense. What was he looking for in the dark?

“Riku?” he suddenly heard Raul’s voice somewhere close by and turned around.

“Over here!” he didn’t dare yelling, but Raul had seemed nearby already. “Sorry, mate I didn’t mean to wake the two of you up as well.”

“Waking us up?” Raul sounded angry and grabbed the other man’s arm. “We have been looking for you for almost two hours now! Sami!” he yelled into the fog, still pulling a completely puzzled Riku along.

Two hours? He had not left the tent for more than two minutes, that was something Riku was completely sure of.

“Raul, calm down!” he tried, but his friend turned around to face him with a frown.

“Calm?” he whispered in a harsh tone. “Being out here alone in the dark is life-threatening! There are rocks, steep slopes and maybe also a few wolves around so don’t you dare telling me to calm down!”

A little guilt-ridden Riku lowered his head. Of course Raul was right as usual.

But Riku was sure that he had not left the tent for more than a few minutes, so this time Raul was completely overreacting. He didn’t mean to upset his friend even more and simply shut up, following the cursing and grumbling Raul through the wet heathland.

“Thank God, you’re here!” Sami’s voice was heard suddenly and he came running through the darkness with his own flashlight. “This place seriously gives me the creeps, maybe we should leave.”

“Leave where?” Raul tried to be reasonable. “We don’t see fuck and by now it can only be a few hours until the break of dawn. I say we stay and wait. All of us!” he emphasized, grabbing Riku’s arm again. “Let’s rest and wait for the morning!”

Back inside the tent and listening to the low snoring from Sami, Riku closed his eyes. Suddenly he felt Raul moving next to him. “Where the hell have you been, mate?” he whispered, obviously sleepless as well.

“I have no idea!” apologetically Riku shrugged. “To me it seemed that I had only left for a few minutes.”

“Get some sleep.” Raul patted his arm. “We’ll see about the rest tomorrow.”

He awoke with a start. Obviously he had actually fallen asleep. The tent lay in dim light and Riku breathed a sigh of relief. It was morning, hopefully the fog had cleared and they would soon be able to leave this place.

Shaking his head he tried to dispel the last few pictures of his dream. Disturbing pictures of large fires and fighting warriors. Maybe his subconscious mind was now playing wild and providing him with some imagines, their tour guide would soon tell them about on their planned Viking-tour around Dublin. They had made plans to go on this trip for many years but they had never found the time. Now everything was booked and they were supposed to meet up with Samu and their tour guide in Dublin today.

Excitedly Riku sat up and rubbed his tired face. Vikings had always been a passion of his since he had been a little boy. Their ships, strong warriors, fearless and fierce. He was excited about the tour that the woman from the travel agency had suggested for them. Their guide had sounded nice on the phone. Very enthusiastic and definitely well informed. Well, she should be. Besides being half Norwegian herself, she had spent the last eight years studying the influence of the Vikings on different cultures. When he had asked her why she had become a tour guide she had laughed bitterly.

“You can’t make a living with a passion like this. I work, study and write books. But to pay my rent I also teach Viking fighting techniques to children and work as a private tour guide. But since it is my passion, I don’t mind at all.”

Now he was finally here and he couldn’t wait to meet her. Elida Alvarsdottjer. What a name that was!

Full of excitement and impatience he crawled outside again. The fog had cleared, at least that. Breathing a sigh of relief, Riku stretched his back. He looked around the wild and moist heathland and the tiny groups of trees that stood between rocks and bushes.

How lost were they? Putting his hand on his forehead, he walked a few steps towards the edge of the rock face. There should have been a sign of Dublin from here, maybe it lay in the other direction. To his surprise he didn’t see any streets, turning around when Raul came over to him.

“What a view!” the other man exclaimed and rubbed his cold hands.

“Where the hell are we?” Sami hat left the tent as well and walked along the rim of the rock. “Where are the streets for Christ’s sake?”

Riku threw another look around and shook his head. “Not only the streets are missing, look around.” He pointed ahead into the green and grey wasteland. “Where are the electricity pylons?”

Something in Sami’s face changed, when he gazed along the landscape. “You are right!” in bewilderment he turned around. “This part of the country should be well provided with electricity.”

Always the voice of reason, Raul walked back into the direction of their tent. “Underground cables maybe.” He suspected, waving at his two friends. “Now come on, I checked the maps and from here I see a few mountains. Since we are hiking in Wicklow Mountains National Park, I assume that I found the right direction, so let’s get going!”

Chapter 2

“Xxxss.” Someone tapped my forehead and I flinched.

“Up.” My tooth-missing-guard gave me a smile and tied the end of my rope together with another one that he had brought.

Had I fallen asleep throughout this long afternoon? I had not slept during the last night with all the bad thoughts and fears on my mind. Everything was back within a split second. I was still here, this wasn’t some kind of a bad dream. Only yesterday I had been out on a little hike because I was expecting clients for a 10 day tour around Dublin and Wicklow. But somehow I had gotten lost in the fog, something that had never happened to me before. I knew the woods and heathlands like the back of my hand, but nevertheless I ended up stumbling across murky paths without any sense of direction. I remembered falling down from some rock. I had not seen it coming.

Where was I now? The young man with the tattoo didn’t look like an actor or some kind of fantasy role player. He was dirty, his axe definitely real and he smelled so bad that I felt like covering my nose when he moved closer to tie the knot on my bonds.

Again he made his little xxxs sound through the gap between his teeth und pulled me into an upright position. “Come, come.” He gestured towards the door and pulled me along when my stiff limbs did not react fast enough.

There was obviously a fight going on outside, I heard loud voices and bellowing. Maybe there was also a song or orders in between, I couldn’t tell. Someone was complaining, others laughing. My guard suddenly stopped and raised his hand for me to remain still. I saw his fingers gliding towards the axe on his back and he cocked his head. With another xxxss and a tug he pulled me along to the backdoor of the room and away from the voices and yells.

Carefully he opened the door and grabbed my neck, his index finger in his lips. Then he nodded and guided me outside into the light rain, still holding me by the neck.

I smelled smoke and for a reason I didn’t understand I also smelled all kinds of garbage, rotten foods and dead animals. The small street between the tiniest wooden homes was covered in mud and dirt, the houses destroyed. When my guard forced me around another corner, I almost stumbled across the slaughtered body of a man. In complete shock I let out a piercing shriek, but the young man by my side was quick to react and pressed his dirty hand on my mouth.

“Stay silent!” he whispered close to my ear and I felt his warm breath on my neck. “Silent! Shsht!” he hushed me down and shoved me ahead.

There was a town square at the end of the little street we were walking along and I tried not to look too closely at all the bodies that lined the former homes, workshops and stables. It was horrifying. My eyes were by now half shut and I stared down into the mud underneath my feet, letting my guard guide me.

All of a sudden I heard someone barking something and looked up carefully when my guard stopped. Two men walked in our direction. I saw one of them pointing at me with an axe but my guard simply grabbed my neck again and drew his own weapon. He said something but my heart was beating so loud that all I understood were the words “Mine” and “Father”. The tall blond man lowered his axe and grunted something before he turned away and left, soon followed by his friend that still threw interested gazes at me.

My guard tied me to the metal rim of an old well and pulled a bucket of water up to wash his face and hands. “Drink.” He simply said and took another handful of water to drink it himself before he offered his hand to me.

My guts churned at the smell of it but I was too thirsty to refuse. Even though he had just washed his blood caked hands in that bucket I grabbed hold of his long sleeve and drank as if my life would depend on it. God, I was so thirsty.

Breathing heavily, I lowered my gaze again, feeling the young man patting my arm.

“Yorick.” He suddenly said, squirting water into his face again. Carefully he touched the crack in his lip and ran his wet hands over his long hair and to the back of his neck where I spotted another minor injury. Plaiting his hair, he cocked his head, looking at me questioningly. “Yorick.” He repeated slowly. “Yorick Havarsson.”

It took me another second to understand that he was telling me his name and I managed to croak: “Elida.”, after clearing my throat a couple of times.

He nodded again and started to roll up his sleeves to wash the blood from his forearms and neck.

From the corner of my eye I suddenly saw a woman leaving one of the houses. She had a round shield fastened to her back and dragged a group of very young children along that were tied together with a rope.

“Litli!” she yelled and broke into laughter. The young man by my side blushed when she approached. He bowed his head in her direction and signalized me that I had to wait where I was. Well, where else would I go, tied to the well and completely terrified from the events of the last few hours?

The woman was obviously in a good mood, despite being covered in blood and bleeding herself from a wound on her leg that even made her limp a little.

Yorick gestured towards the children and asked something and she nodded immediately, patting a little girl’s hair. “For the one I lost last year.” She told him, without taking her eyes of me. Her strong chin pointed towards me and she said a few things I didn’t need to understand because she was gesturing quite obviously and obscenely.

Yorick shook his head and pulled me closer by the rope around my wrists. Pointing at me he started whispering to her and obviously gave a vivid account I barely understood. He sounded thrilled and the woman’s brows furrowed.

She had called him Litli and if I wasn’t mistaking, it meant something like “my little one”. Maybe she was his sister?

It had taken me a bit of effort, but I realized after a few sentences they spoke to each other, just how similar their language was to the Norwegian I knew. It relieved me to understand them at least, even though it wasn’t easy.

Again and again I let my eyes travel over the unfamiliar sight of the woman with an axe and a short sword with dark leather around the handle and a shiny white gemstone at its handhold. Her hair was blond and plaited wildly across her whole head with small ribbons to hold them back together with a brown hair band.

She was a warrior.

This woman, standing right in front of me, talking to my toothless guard and making fun of him for not screwing me and keeping others from doing so, was a real Viking warrior. Every instinct of a scientist inside of me wanted to grab her, talk to her, take pictures and write an article about her life. But the look she suddenly gave me, made me shiver and I lowered my gaze, realizing that I had been starring at her quite inappropriately.

“Make sure father won’t give her to Aevarr, my husband doesn’t need an Irish whore.” She said, stepping closer to watch me with narrowed eyes. “What’s all that stuff she’s wearing? You sure there’s a woman underneath, Litli?”

He laughed in surprise. “She has the face of a woman and since I found here I fought seven men that insisted to hump her right there and then, so I am pretty sure.”

The woman giggled. “How brave little Yori is!” she patted his cheek, suddenly grabbing his chin to lift his upper lip. “Lost some teeth in battle, Yori?” she sounded teasingly and he turned away with a low harrumph.

“Fighting Hjalkarr and Eyolfr about the lady.” He answered grumpily. “But I still got them in my pocket, maybe Oddgeir can put them back in place.”

When had all of this happened? I looked at my young guard that had obviously defended and protected me for hours. What had happened, when and most importantly why?

The woman only nodded, examining his mouth again. “You were always the ugly brother, doesn’t make any difference.” She stated and dodged a blow with a giggle.

Then her gaze travelled over me again. “Does she understand you?” she suddenly asked and I felt an ice cold lump somewhere deep down in the pits of my stomach.

Almost half of the night I had weighed up the pros and cons of my linguistic advantages. Yorick had not even tried to talk to me properly, simply assuming that I was a local woman he had somehow captured.

This woman now asked the right questions.

But if I now told them that I understood almost every word they spoke, they would stop speaking openly in front of me and I would never manage to find out where the hell I was, who they were beside the obvious, and how I had gotten here. Swallowing hard, I quickly made up my mind. If I told them the truth, but only admitted that I spoke and understood the fundamentals of their language, I could ask them questions at least.

Scared stiff I managed to look at Yorick that was scrutinizing my face astounded.

“I… I don’t know.” He said after a few seconds of silence that was only broken by the low sobbing of a little boy next to the warrior woman.

Without removing her eyes from my face, she patted his head, softly ruffling his hair. “All’s good, all’s good.” She mumbled in the direction of the kid, nodding at Yorick. “Go ask her.” Her chin pointed at me again and he cocked his head, pulling me closer.

“Do you understand me?” he asked very slowly and held me at arm’s length, still scrutinizing my face.

I swallowed and nodded. “Little bit.” I answered carefully and his eyes widened in surprise.

“You do?” suddenly his nose was almost touching mine and I started back.

“My father… my father was from Norway.”

The woman let out another giggle. “The bastard of a Northman!”

Surprised I looked at her. Of course! This was the easiest explanation for it. Now they would assume that my father had just been another Northman, plundering and raping his ways through the coastlines of Ireland. And the fact that my father might one day live and not give a hoot in hell for me, well, that was a different story.

“Not a bastard.” Yorick grabbed my chin and forced me to look into his eyes. “He liked the girl well enough to teach her some words.”

“Where’s your father now, girl?”

Girl? A little puzzled I looked at the other woman, surprised to be called a girl at the age of almost 28. From what I had assumed she was about my age, maybe even younger.

“Dead.” I said and looked straight into her eyes. It was true. If this wasn’t some sort of role play or theatre – and I was pretty sure of that because of the dead bodies and the smell around us – he was at least not alive the present day.

“What was his name?” the woman insisted and I held her stare, knowing that she was testing me.

“Alvar.”

“Alvar what? Where was he from?” she insisted even more firmly and I threw in the name of the only town that came to my mind and that was perhaps old enough to exist.

“Skirringssal-kaupangen.”

“Kaupang.” The two of the exchanged a quick gaze, then the woman nodded.

“Jarl Styrbjörn.” Yorick nodded and started playing around his lip, cursing lowly. “I need to find Oddgeir, take care of her. She’s mine until my father decides otherwise!”

“What am I, your servant?” indignant about his request she folded her arms over her chest.

He was quick to grab her forearm and bowed lightly. “I’ll be back in no time, lady Idun.” He promised, handing my rope to her as well.

“Nah!” she pushed him away. “Go, you little fool, I gotta pick up some of the goats and take them to the ships. Meet me there. And don’t be afraid, I will not let anyone harm your precious bastard lady.” Clicking her tongue she pulled all of us away from the large town square and into smaller alleys.

I followed her slowly, after a few steps taking one of the little girls up on my arm because the kid was stumbling across its own feet.

The warrior woman gave me a strange look but then she sighed, untying my hands. “If you try to run I will break your back with my axe and kill all of them.” She warned me quite convincingly and I simply nodded, holding the kid on my arm as close as possible.

“Where do you take them?” I asked carefully and the woman – Idun, I reminded myself – turned around.

“Home.” She plainly stated. “They’ll all be siblings and cousins to our children, taking the places of the stillborn or lost if their fathers and the Jarls accept them. As to the rest, we always need a helping hand in the stables or with the household duties.”

I nodded slowly, softly rubbing the little girl’s back. I knew that this practice had been common, but seeing those tiny children all tied up, dirty and scared to their bones made my guts churn even more than the sight of the dead alongside the alleys.

In silence I followed Idun and a small herd of cattle to the border of the little town. There were horsemen waiting and also a few very simple and open carriages. With the help of a few men, Idun put the sheep and goats into one of the carts and waved at another woman that drove some horses into our direction with a sword and a whip.

Then she reached out her hands and it almost broke my heart when she pulled the little girl from my arm. “Take them to the ships and set sail for Wales.” She told one of the other warriors. “I hold you responsible for the children, Arnufr Guthrimsson! If a hair on one of their heads is touched the wrong way, I will personally kill you.”

The man gritted his teeth and bowed, before he yelled her orders at his men.

“How ‘bout the woman, Lady Idun? We would only harm her a little bit.” He asked with a broad grin and reached out his hands towards me.

Idun sighed in annoyance. “She’s Yorick’s swag until Havar decides otherwise, stay away from her.” Still grinning Guthrimsson took another bow. “Let’s hope Jarl Havar shows generosity with his men.”

Grabbing my arm, Idun only grunted something vulgar and pulled me along. “Don’t dawdle!” she grumbled. “I need to find some food, you come with me.”

She took me to the house of the villages elder, a flat house that reminded me of an African rondavel with its flat conical roof thatched with straw. It was warm and almost dry inside and I let Idun pull me through the crowd of men and women that were sitting or standing around, drinking and eating.

The atmosphere was quite relaxed, at least for a gathering of warriors. They were sitting together by different fireplaces, talking, laughing, some of them fighting or at least discussing heatedly. Estimate based on their behaviour told me that they had taken over this place about two days ago. Most wounds were bandaged and there was almost no sign of the original occupants of the homes. Well, maybe a handful of women the Vikings had kept as slaves or servants. I lowered my eyes when we passed by a few scenes I wanted erased from my memories right away.

Idun didn’t seem to care. Smiling and greeting she made her way through the crowd and headed straight for a blond man with a half shaven skull and the fur of what appeared to be a boar around his shoulders.

“Mylady!” The man toasted in her direction and grabbed her neck to pull her in for a kiss. “Finally you are joining us.” He said in a very deep voice, offering his drink to her.

She took it with a low sound of annoyance, pointing at me. “Had to take care of Yori’s latest and most precious toy.” She stated ironically and the blue gaze of the remarkably tall man ran over me again.

“Yori took a woman to keep her?” he asked astounded. “She’s not even… did he…” his blond brows furrowed. “What kind of dress is that?” he asked lowly and pointed at my rain suit in confusion. “What is she, woman? A servant to their Gods?”

Idun shrugged, chucking him under the chin. “Your little brother might not be the strongest but he is intelligent for all that. He defended her and he…”

Suddenly Yorick stood between us, taking Idun by her arm. “You brought her here?” he hissed and threw a look around but nobody seemed to have noticed my presence.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Yorick put his arm around my shoulders and nodded at the older man. “Aevarr.”

His brother cocked his eyebrow in amusement. “A serf, for you only?”

“She’s no such thing!” Yorick shot back but he lowered his voice immediately. “I’ll find her some normal dress to wear, when will father be back?”

“He’s only been gone for a few hours, not even a day. Get your weird looking slave dressed properly and then come wait with us and have a drink.”

With a nod, Yorick pulled me away from the main fireplace and to the wall in the back of the house. There was a narrow staircase that led upstairs to something that appeared to be a gallery. I saw rumpled up beds and hurled around furniture between curtains and woven room dividers. Single-mindedly, Yorick grabbed two large wooden crates and threw them both open.

“Here you go.” He handed me a few pieces of cloth that appeared to be some kind of full length dress and a waistcoat. With his axe drawn and put on his knees, he sat down on one of the beds, throwing careful gazes around and at the people on the ground floor. “You might wanna stand over there rather than where you’re standing right now, Elida Alvarsdottjer.” He pointed at the wall to his right and grinned.

He looked different with his teeth complete again. Younger. And in some way sympathetic.

“Aren’t they lose anymore?” I pointed at his face and he flashed another purposely toothy grin at me, shrugging slightly.

“Oddgeir told me the Gods liked me and pushed them back up like he wanted them to get stuck in my brains. Maybe they’ll stay. I like ‘em.” Feeling over his jawline, he nodded at the clothes in my hands. “Get dressed so we can mingle.”

“You wanna watch?” I tried to sound confident despite my still shaking knees. This was the weirdest nightmare I had ever had. And for some reason it had become reality.

Yorick chuckled. “I’ve seen women naked, girl.” With a worldly-wise wink he started sharpening his axe.

Completely out of words I stared down at him and he blew out his cheeks. “Little Alfur, I need to have an eye on the stairs and the pathways. I will mind my own business, get dressed behind my back if it suits you but stay close!”

Of course. I felt a blush creeping over my face. He and his kind had other ways to get what they wanted and it was obvious that he only wanted to keep me safe. Throwing a look around me, I opened the fastener of my overall. Yorick’s head spun around and he looked at the zipper downright fascinated.

“I have been wondering all night how this black suit would open.” He said without taking his eyes of my overall. “But I was too scared to touch it.”

I laughed in surprise, cocking my head. “You were too scared to touch it?”

“It could have been sacred!” he retorted, reaching out his hands towards me. “Is it?”

I slipped the overall down my woollen tights and over my feet, handing it to Yorick. “It is not. It is called a zipper and it closes tight and keeps warm and dry. Quite convenient for a long hike.”

He seemed completely baffled, running his still disgustingly dirty hands over the surface of my outdoor suit. “It’s no leather.” He detected and I shook my head, stepping into the grey linen dress.

“It is not as heavy as leather. And it protects better against the rain.” I pulled the dress up that still had the smell of its previous owner.

Watching me closely while I tried to find the right hooks and eyes for the dark brown leather waistcoat, he suddenly chuckled.

“You made a fool of me, girl. Why didn’t you talk to me last night?”

“You didn’t ask anything.” I defended myself carefully but he didn’t even listen. Instead he got up from the bed and stood right before me, cautiously running his fingers through my long hair.

“I’m asking now.”

“What else do you want to know?”

“Did the Gods send you?”

Completely taken by surprise I stared back at him. I had expected many questions but not something like that. Was he joking? Maybe mocking me?

“The… the Gods?” I repeated, not really knowing what to answer, but he nodded affirmatively.

“I was out in the woods and suddenly you fell down from the foggy skies above my head. Oddgeir told all of us to stay away from the fog, but it was so thick and different from everything I had ever seen that I had to see it again. But what I found there was you, you in this … this gown or zipper or whatever you might call it. I don’t need to have the third eye to put two and two together.”

All of a sudden there was a short tumult below us and Yorick instantly turned around and lifted his axe. But only to put it away with a smile.

“My father’s back.” He said and waved at me. “Come on, let’s go downstairs and hear what he’s got to tell us. I’m hungry and I definitely need some Ale before I present you to him.”

“Present me?” I wanted to free my arm, but he was a lot stronger and pulled me along excitedly.

“Don’t be afraid, I won’t give up on you so easily.” He tried to calm me down a little, but I could clearly see that he was immersed in his thoughts and completely distracted.   

My eyes followed his gaze and everything inside of me turned to stone. The Jarl had returned from his gory business and with him and his men more goods and prey.

Yorick was tall and his brother Aevarr had been even taller, maybe around six foot and three inches. The man that now entered wasn’t simply tall; he also had broad shoulders and was definitely well-fed. He wore a dark breast plate and a fur around his shoulders that was similar to Aevarr’s.

Yelling something triumphant in an exceptionally deep voice, he lifted his arm and presented four decapitated heads to the crowd. He got cheers and applause for it and walked over to the biggest fireplace. Handing the bloody heads to one of his comrades, he sat down in a large chair, waving at one of the servants, bellowing for Ale.

If Yorick’s hands had not held me in an upright position, I would have fainted right there and then. Breathing heavily, I felt my head spinning and held onto Yorick’s leather cuirass. He smiled down at me, still pulling me through the crowd.

“Drink up, girl.” He suddenly said, offering a large wooden mug to me. His arm slipped around my waist to support my weight when I almost stumbled.

Still my eyes were fixed on his father. The mere sight of him nauseated me. He laughed and joked with his men, washing his bloody hands and face in a bowl, one of the servants had brought for him.

After emptying a large drinking horn he got up again, raising his hands. His voice filled the whole room and I tried to hide behind Yorick’s arm, when the Jarl let his gaze run over his men. His speech was short, his words were as dark as his hair and most probably his soul, but his retinue seemed thrilled.

“Any news?” Jarl Havar nodded at his men and I felt Yorick’s fingers tighten around my neck.

“Come with me and be silent.” He whispered into my ear over the now following speech of his brother, that informed the Jarl about the further plans and the shipments to Wales that had already taken place that very morning.

Tentatively I let the young man lead me over to the few seats around the fire. A very old man that had been sitting next to the Jarl listening quietly suddenly lifted his head and looked directly at me through the flames. His gaze was curious, concerned maybe and he nodded at Yorick, quickly waving at one of the men guarding the large doors of the house. Then his watery blue eyes were fixed on me again almost motionlessly. In a weird way I found him smiling at me but I was almost certain that it had been an illusion caused by the fire.

What I couldn’t shake off was the creepy feeling of his eyes, somehow searching my core being for answers. Was he a shaman? A sorcerer of some kind?

He wore a white fur coat and a hat that had been made from the same animal skin and decorated with small pearls and bones. On his wrinkled face I spotted runes, three on his forehead and at least four symmetrically under his eyes. The lines were faded, but visible. When we approached him, he leaned a long and colourfully ornamented walking stick aside and fetched a brown leather pouch from the pocket of his coat.

Next to him, Yorick got down on his knee, whispering to the old man, before he took his very frail hand and put it on my shoulder.

“You stay here.” He ordered and I nodded hesitantly, sitting down by the feet of the shaman that was now carefully shaking the pouch in his hand. The small clicking sounds sent shivers down my spine and I tried my best to focus on Yorick. The young man was waiting by his father’s side for his brother to finish summarizing the latest news, but the Jarl had obviously seen his son with me in his towline and he beckoned him over without taking his eyes off me.

Yorick bowed his head, speaking to his father’s ear. The Jarl let out a chuckle, signalizing his older son to continue.

I averted my gaze, staring down at the floor I was sitting on, but the low voice of the old shaman by my side made me look up again.

“He waited for you.” The sorcerer stated and gave me a smile.

Completely taken aback, I looked up at him. “Who … what d’you mean, he waited for me?” I managed to enunciate after a second of shock without even thinking about hiding the fact that I spoke his language. For some reason, this man knew me already. He had seen me and looked right through me without asking one question. My heart was racing in my chest and the old shaman softly rubbed my back.

“They both have been waiting.” He simply continued without answering my question and I felt my hands getting wet.

Aevarr was still talking and praising the men for their victory, the land and the silver they had taken and the atmosphere around us became more and more boisterous and cheerful.

When the sorcerer spoke again, his words were almost drowned out by the bellowing of so many men.

“Your way has not revealed itself to me completely but your destiny has for some unknown reason been bound to both of them, that’s what I’m sure of.”

I was still staring at him in disbelieve, not sure whether I should start crying or simply die laughing, when suddenly Aevarr nodded at his younger brother with a smile.

“Get yourself another Ale, my friends!” the tall warrior roared into the crowd. “Looks like my little brother has also got some news to share.”

Yorick exchanged another look with his father before he stepped forward and emptied his own drink. “My brothers and friends!” he shouted, whipping his mouth. “This country has been rich and full of life and opportunities so far. But it is also a home of deep spirituals and beliefs we don’t quite understand yet. Since we came to the coasts of this island I have been waiting for a sign and I prayed to Odin for guidance and wisdom.” He pointed at his forehead and suddenly I understood the meaning of his tattoo. Obviously Yorick had hoped for a revelation from Odin, the Godfather and raven master that had even sacrificed one of his eyes to attain wisdom.

“Three days ago we came to this place. We rode through the thickest fog any of us had ever seen in our lives and only by the guidance of bestefar Oddgeir and the Gods by our sides, we managed to cross those fields and leave the intermediate world that had almost captured all of us.”

Bestefar? The shaman was his grandfather? Or was it some symbolic name, was he maybe grandfather to all of them because they worshiped him? I was so captivated by his speech that it startled me when Yorick suddenly pointed across the room.

“And what did we find by the roots of an old ash tree? Him.”

My head spun around and I felt like all my blood was suddenly leaving my limbs. The old sorcerer clutched my arm when I almost fell to the ground.

I knew this man, but … This was simply impossible!

From afar I still heard Yorick’s passionate voice. “And only two days later, she falls from the foggy skies right above my head!”

To my surprise I was grabbed and pulled on my feet. But still all I could see was his face. He was pale. One of his eyes was black and swollen but he carried himself straight despite the tied up hands on his back and the rope around his neck. His eyes were locked with mine, when Yorick suddenly put his hand in my hair to pull my head back and in the direction of the fire for everyone to see me.

“I have asked and prayed for a sign of the Gods, I have waited, fought well to make them see my effort and make them proud. And now see what they send us!” Enthusiastically he beckoned the other soldier over to bring his prisoner forth. “A man by the roots of an ash tree and a woman as beautiful and full of secrets as can be. I asked Oddgeir to cast the runes and he has been meditating and praying for the whole last night. And when I came to him today, his answer filled my heart with sheer pleasure. This is the sign we have all been waiting for. The sign for us to finally settle down.” By the rope around his neck he pulled the man closer and stood between us. “I give you Ask and Embla!”

A murmur went to the crowd. Then suddenly someone started cheering, soon followed by the deafening sound of the rest of their voices.

I was dumbstruck, looking up into Yorick’s eyes that were sparkling with enthusiasm.

Had he just said Ask and Embla?

Ask and Embla, the first human beings in the oldest Nordic stories of the Creation of mankind. The first humans, made by the Gods Odin, Hönir and Lodur, carved and formed from trees they had found by the sea. Yorick seriously meant what he said. That was why he had kept me safe, protected me and had not dared to touch me himself.

Did the Gods send you?

Now all of this made sense, but then again, it simply didn’t!

I was lost, lost in time maybe. But I wasn’t Godsend!

Embla.

Jesus Christ!

In a state of shock I felt Yorick’s arm around my waist.

“This is our sign! Our unmistakable sign to finally stay, settle and start over!” he shouted, pulling me closer.

“So what now?” one of the older men stepped forward and pointed at me with his drinking horn, when the first wave of jubilance had subsided. “Will we now all take her and create a new dynasty? Or shall we just watch them creating it?”

A surge of laughter went through all of them, and it was the shaman that slowly got on his feet and raised his walking stick to silence the gathering.

“I cast the runes many times but they did only reveal small parts of our future.” He said in a shaky voice and pointed at me. “But right now they are both here and I will ask you all to be quiet for I need to see them together and feel their spiritual kinship. If Yorick Havarsson is right, this might be the greatest sign the Gods have ever sent us! Be silent and listen.” He nodded at Yorick that stepped away from me, carefully loosening the ties around the wrists of the man that was now standing right in front of me.

The old sorcerer handed me a small bottle. “Drink this, my child, Embla, mother to us all.” He gave me a toothless smile. “He does not seem to understand us, make him drink this potion as well, he will trust you.” Encouragingly he patted my arm. The whole room had fallen completely silent and I heard my own voice that suddenly seemed far too loud.

“He told us to drink this.” I offered the little bottle to him but he only shook his head, his full lips pressed together firmly.

“I won’t!” he only stated with the deep and husky voice I knew so well.

“Samu.” I said softly and he stared at me surprised. Then within a split second he was overcome with realization.

“You’re the guide!” he whispered, licking his dry lips. “Riku, he … he sent me a picture and told me to meet you in Dublin!”

Stepping forward he touched my arm. He seemed surprised, relieved maybe. And I saw a flicker of hope inside his blue eyes.

“Do you know this man?” Oddgeir addressed me directly and I slowly shook my head.

“I … I …” thinking about it, I looked at the shaman, knowing that he would see the truth behind everything I said.

“I heard of him. But we never met. I never talked to him before.” I answered truthfully and Oddgeir nodded.

“He seems to have recognized you as well.”

“He did.” I confirmed, not really knowing how to explain it to him or any other person.

I knew him because he and his friends were supposed to be my clients for a guided tour around the old Viking-towns of the western coast of Ireland. I knew him because he was Samu Haber from the Rockband Sunrise Avenue and I had most probably known this man for the last seven years because I had always had a little crush on him.

Not knowing what to do or say, I simply took a sip of the potion the sorcerer had given me.

“We should drink.” I handed the bottle to Samu. “Right now we are in a good place, try not to act stupid.” I said warningly, waving at Yorick. “Ale please?” I asked, trying to sound humble and he was quick to hand me his drinking horn. He smiled at me almost admiringly and I could tell from the look in his grey eyes that he truly believed every word he had said before. To him I was Godsend. Even sacred.

Still looking at him I forgot to sip his drink, feeling the world around me spin slightly.

Had his eyes always been so grey?

I couldn’t tell.

Samu’s eyes were fascinatingly blue but I didn’t manage to look at him again.

Yorick suddenly cocked his head and stepped forward to support me with his arm.

“Talk to him.” He whispered into my ear and I had the weird feeling that his mellifluous voice was echoing somewhere inside my head. I nodded slowly, taking another gulp of his Ale.

“How did you get here?” Yorick’s warm breath was close to my ear and I tried to shake off the dizziness. “Where did you come from and what is your message for us, Embla?”