Icefall (4 page)

“The girl had grown fond of it,” Bera says. “The only piece of home she had here.”

No. She was not a piece of home. She was my friend, and I was hers.

“Go on, all of you,” Bera says. “Give us some privacy.” And I hear feet shuffling away.

“I hate them,” I say.

“Solveig, child, they didn’t know.”

I look up at Bera, sputtering. “You didn’t stop them!”

“I didn’t know of it, or I would have.” She shakes her head. “She was a fine goat.”

“She was …,” I start, but in my mind I see that red thing hanging in the larder, that carcass, and a gag doubles me over.

“Come now,” Bera says, and pats my back.

I cough a bit until the nausea subsides. Then I sit up and look around. Everyone in the yard is staring at me. I glare at them all, each and every one. Hake is the only one who doesn’t meet my gaze.

“Here, dry your eyes,” Bera says, and lifts the hem of her apron. She wipes my face and makes a sh-sh-sh sound. “Enough of this, now.”

She doesn’t understand. “Where is Per?” I ask.

“Per?”

Per. He told me to come to him if the warriors ever showed me disrespect or hurt me.

“He’s out back, splitting wood with Raudi,” Bera says.

I pull away from her and stumble down the side of the hall. Per will make it right. I don’t know how, but he will. I round
the corner and he and Raudi are there, halved logs spread out around them. Per looks up, sees me, and drops his axe.

“Solveig?”

I rush to him and throw my arms around him, and then I’m sobbing all over again.

He puts one of his hands against my head, the other on my back, and holds me.

“What is it, girl?”

“Hilda,” I start, but I stammer and can’t get it out. Raudi stands nearby, looking confused.

Per sighs. “Oh. That.”

It takes a moment for me to understand the meaning of what he has said. When I do, I shake his hands off and pull away. “You knew?”

He looks away from me, at the ground. “Not before it was done.”

“But afterward? And you didn’t tell me?”

“Solveig, I didn’t want to upset you.”

I whisper, “I thought you …”

“You thought I what?”

But I don’t know what I thought. I can only stare at him, the cold anchor of disappointment in him dragging me even lower into my grief.

“Solveig?” he says, and when I don’t respond, he throws up his hands. “For pity’s sake, it was just a goat.”

When he says this, Raudi steps forward, and my stomach
freezes over. Per doesn’t understand at all. Hilda was mine to care for, and she needed me. Without her … “You aren’t any different from
them
,” I say, and then I run, a sparrow’s flight.

I don’t know where I’m going, I just race away from the hall, across the field, into the ravine, up the mountains. I have to get away from everyone, even from Bera, Asa, and Harald. From the berserkers, those foul, violent, cruel men. And from Per.

The snow is deep but I press on, higher and farther, and the steading grows small behind me. When I finally stop, I am standing under the glacier. It rises up white and blue, as if it has frozen some of the sky within it, and from somewhere deep inside, it groans. Water runs out over the rocks underneath, and I stoop to drink from the stream. It is so cold it hurts my teeth, and then I splash some on my face to wash away the tears.

I sit down. I don’t want to cry anymore, so I keep my thoughts away from Hilda and listen to the ice. It speaks to me of scouring winds, of cloudless nights, of endless cold. It measures its loneliness by the weight of its layers, the years and years of snow falling unobserved. I’ve been told its lament is loudest at the beginning of winter and the coming of summer, as if it knows that is the closest it will ever come to warmth and thaw. As if it yearns for its own demise. But it can and will only be what it is, bleak and alone, until the breaking of the world.

I
remember that Ole spoke of a cave up here, near the base of the glacier. A place of safety where we could hide. I need a place of safety right now, so I begin to search for it. It must be a secret cave, or else it wouldn’t make a very secure place of hiding. I scramble up the sides of the ravine, looking under outcroppings and studying the rocky ledges. And then I feel a warmth on the breeze and smell the tang of sulfur. I turn to find its source and see a billow of steam rising from the stones, the breath of the earth, or perhaps of a dragon sleeping deep underground. The steam marks an opening in the troll mountains. The cave.

I cross over and pause at the mouth before climbing through, imagining sharp fangs and glowing, serpent eyes
waiting for me. I inhale some clean air and then enter, my shadow sliding ahead of me. Once inside, I wait a moment for my eyes to adjust. I am in an empty room with rough walls. A few empty sacks are piled in one corner, and there is an unlit torch close at hand. The air is warm, like a hall with a full fire in the long pit and cauldrons steaming over the hearth. The smell is unpleasant, but bearable.

Farther in, the walls narrow and fall into the mouth of a shadow, then down the mountain’s dark gullet. I could light the torch with the flint I carry at my brooch, but I have no desire to go any farther. I am no Sigurd, and I have no Gram. And with the warmth in here, I need no fire.

I sit down against one of the walls and lean my head back. I think of Hilda and feel like crying again, but no tears come. It is odd that she came to mean so much to me in so little time. I know I took to Hilda in an unusual way, but I’ll miss looking after her. I won’t ever milk her again. She won’t ever rub up against my skirts, letting me know she wants her ears scratched. And I won’t help her settle down to sleep outside my bedcloset anymore. I feel empty.

I close my eyes, and now the tears do come. I squeeze them out and they roll down my cheeks. I sniff and cover my face with my hands. I am nothing.

I discover that I have fallen asleep when I wake and see it is dark outside. I know I should go back to the steading, but I
don’t want to. I don’t want to face any of them, even though I feel bad for what I said to Per. He is nothing like the berserkers. But why can’t I stay here? It is warm, and small, and safe, and it doesn’t matter that I am only Solveig the plain, second daughter, friend of goats.

I close my eyes and slip back down the dreamroads.

I am standing at the cliff watching enemy ships sail up the fjord below,
drekars
with leering mastheads and shields down their lengths. They bristle with spears and swords; the warriors on deck rattle their weapons and scream battle cries. The wind carries their vulgar threats up to my ears, and my body recoils.

I flee to the safety of the steading walls, but find the gate broken wide. The yard is littered with the pale bodies of the berserkers. Their mouths hang open, their tongues loll, and their eyes dry in the air for raven food. None show any sign of hurt or wound, as though they simply fell where they stood by some witchcraft. In the sky above the steading, a cloud leers in the shape of a wolf’s head, a maw opening over us with dagger-teeth.

The enemy’s cries are closer. Somehow I know their ships have landed; they are climbing up to the steading. I dart into the hall, close and bar the doors. I struggle to catch my breath, my eyes darting around the room. Asa clutches Harald in a far corner, her eyes wild with the panic of a wounded deer. Harald
cries for the mother he never knew and I barely remember. He is no warrior now. He is a frightened boy.

At the cold hearth, Bera stirs a wooden paddle inside an empty kettle, her face blank. “Your father knows my cooking,” she says. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

Raudi sits on the ground next to her, staring at me with eyes like the burning timbers of a funeral pyre. “This is your fault,” he says. “We are all dead because of you.”

“No,” I say. “Where is Per? Per will save us.”

Asa pulls Harald closer. “Per is gone,” she says.

And it feels as though the ground has collapsed beneath me, and the fire is not in Raudi’s eyes, but every where. The walls burn around us, the pillars blacken, the carvings of vines and animals twist in the blaze. The heat scorches my cheeks, and the smoke chokes the air from my lungs. Then I hear a deafening crack and the sound of a thousand waves crashing on the shore. The glacier has finally heaved its bulk down the mountain. I feel the ground shake with its rush toward our steading. In a moment it will fall on us and smother the flames, smash the hall, crush our bodies, and drive the splinters into the sea.

Yellow light flickers off the cave walls. I blink away the dream and realize the cave is not on fire. Torches move outside, then voices. One of them is close, and I recognize it to be Ole. The others are more distant, their words sounding as if they range across the ravine. I think about calling out to Ole
to let him know I am here, but before I do, he sticks the torch into the cave and pokes his head in after it.

“There you are,” he says, grunting as he climbs into the chamber.

“You found me,” I say.

He nods once, a quick jerk, and crosses the room toward me. I think he is going to help me up, but he doesn’t. He stands over me, and I notice he is holding his bone knife.

I climb to my feet. “I hope I haven’t caused too much trouble.”

He says nothing, just stares at me. His eyes are cold, like the eyes of the berserkers in my dream, and his mouth is a hairline crack across his stony face.

“Ole?” I say.

And then Per climbs into the chamber. “Solveig!” he says. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I say.

“I found her,” Ole says. He gives me a narrowed glance, and he leaves. I watch him climb out of the cave, and then I become aware that I am alone with Per. We are both quiet for a few moments.

“I should have told you,” Per finally says. “Hilda was not just a goat. I should have told you.”

Hearing him say it makes me feel a little better. “I’m sorry I said those things to you. You’re nothing like Hake and his men.”

He shakes his head. “My king’s daughter has no need to apologize to me.”

“But I do apologize.”

“Does this mean we are friends again?”

“We are,” I say. I think about sharing my dream with him, but I hold my tongue. He would only think me more foolish than I’m sure he already does. “We should return to the steading.”

“Yes,” he says. “Everyone will be relieved to see you.”

He leads me from the cave, out into the night. The glacier looks like a wedge of fallen moon, and thin silver clouds race across the black sky. Torches float over the hills around me, across the ravine, flickering specks of bobbing light. Every one has come out looking for me, and suddenly my cheeks are not red from the cold. I hang my head in embarrassment.

“I’ve caused so much trouble,” I whisper.

“Do not worry yourself.”

Per calls to the others, announcing that he has found me, and the lights all pause a moment before moving as one back down the ravine. “Watch your step on these rocks,” Per says, and takes my arm. His kind and reassuring touch warms me.

A short while later, we walk into the steading. Bera paces the yard and rushes me into a hard hug when she sees me.

“Oh, you reckless thing,” she says. “Don’t you go running off ever again.”

“I won’t,” I say. But it feels good to know she cares about me.

“She did find the cave,” Per says. “She looked like she’d been sleeping.”

“Oh, by the gods.” Bera rolls her eyes. “Sleeping? While the rest of us have been stewing and pacing, thinking you were going to freeze to death out there. You wicked child.”

“I’m sorry, Bera.”

Asa and Harald come out of the hall, and Harald runs at me. He throws his arms around my waist and buries his face in my dress. Asa looks at me with an expression I can’t read.

“I’m fine, Harald,” I say.

Harald pushes away. “I knew you were. I told Asa.” He looks at our sister. “Didn’t I tell you?”

Asa nods, and I wonder if she was worried about me, too.

“Now let’s all go inside where it’s warm,” Bera says.

We allow her to usher us into the hall, and then I sit down on one of the benches. Alric is seated nearby, and he nods to me. Asa comes over and places a bowl of fresh skyr in my lap.

“You must be hungry,” she says.

I am, and I eat the sour milk quickly.

Gradually, the warriors come in, ruddy-cheeked and stamping their feet. I feel ashamed and only steal furtive glances at them. They look at me with scowls of confusion, anger, and open hostility.

Alric clears his throat. “Would anyone care for a tale?”

No one answers. He turns to me. “What about the second daughter of our king? What does she fancy?”

“Please,” I say. “Lift the mood.”

Alric bows his head, but does not raise it. He lets it hang on his chest for several moments as if asleep or contemplating his lap. Then he stands, and a hush spreads like hearth-glow over the audience. He looks out across the hall, meeting the eyes of all who watch him. He opens his mouth and he speaks.

“High up the cloud-paths, you will find Asgard, the realm of the gods, where one day Thor, Thunderer, master of lightning and all that is in the heavens, awoke to find his mighty hammer, Mjollnir, missing.”

Alric’s voice has the warmth of a hot spring, and I try to settle into it. This is a familiar story, a humorous tale of gods.

“Without Mjollnir, the mountain-crusher, Thor could not defend his realm. He and all the gods were vulnerable until the hammer could be found. And so he called upon the god Loki, who took a feathered cloak and flew whistling across the land in search of what was lost. Loki traveled far and wide, until he came upon a giant sitting on a barrow. The giant laughed at Loki and said, ‘I see that something is amiss in Asgard.’ And Loki told him of the missing hammer.

“The giant then confessed to stealing Mjollnir and said he had hidden the weapon eight leagues beneath the earth. He would restore the hammer to Thor, but only if he could have Freyja, the goddess of love and beauty, for his wife.

“Loki flew back to Asgard and reported what he had learned. Thor thundered and raged, and split the earth open
with lightning. He carved fjords and leveled mountains, but could not find the hammer’s hiding place.

“And so he went to Freyja, and told her that she must put on her bridal headdress. And Freyja … objected to the marriage.”

Here, Alric pauses and lets a smirk crawl across his mouth.

“Her indignance and her anger shook the very halls of Asgard, and Thor was forced to flee from her. Without her, he knew not what to do, until Loki suggested that Thor wear the bridal headdress himself. And so the thunder god put on a dress, and jewelry, and all the trappings of a bride, and went down to the thieving giant.”

I laugh at the image Alric has conjured, at the giant so easily fooled.

“And so began the wedding celebration, attended by many of the giant’s kind, and at which Thor forgot himself and ate two whole oxen. When the giant remarked on his bride’s appetite, Loki said, ‘She is hungry, for in her anticipation, she has not eaten for eight days.’ When the giant wanted a kiss from his bride, but saw the fire burning in her eyes, Loki said, ‘She is tired, for in her eagerness, she has not slept for eight days.’ The giant, flattered, accepted both these explanations.”

Again I laugh.

“Then the giant called for Mjollnir to be brought forth. ‘My wedding gift,’ he said, and laid the weapon in Thor’s lap. The Thunderer looked down upon it. And he smiled. He grasped
the hammer, threw off his disguise, and leapt into battle, the sound of which shook the earth. With Mjollnir in his hand, Thor destroyed the wedding party, and slew the giant who had stolen his hammer from him.”

This is where the story normally ends, and I am about to clap, but Alric holds up his hand.

“Having obtained his weapon and his victory,” he says, “Thor rode back up to Asgard in his chariot, which was pulled by his two powerful goats, Teeth-Barer and Teeth-Grinder.”

I swallow at the mention of goats. The beginning of the story had helped me to forget about Hilda, but now it reminds me of her, bringing back the pang of loss.

“In their flight across the sky, they stirred up the winds and trampled the clouds, and as Thor coursed over a lonely fjord, he spied a single nanny goat below. Though old, he could see she was a noble beast, and had given her long life in service to her masters. And as her reward, berserker men were about to slaughter her for meat.

“Thor descended in his chariot, but did not reach the warriors in time to save her. So the Thunderer waited until after she was butchered and then gathered up the nanny goat’s skin. With it, he flew to his father Odin’s great hall. And there he laid the skin upon the ground, and with Mjollnir restored to him, he used the hammer’s power to fill the skin with flesh and bone and bring her back to life.