DEBTS (Vinlanders' Saga Book 3) (2 page)
His muscles bunched under the weight of water and iron, but he showed no sign of pain.
Annikke released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
Not an Elf Lord, then.
“No. No, thank you, my lord. The herbs are too fragile for such a rush of water. The edge of the yard will do, if you please.”
As Lord Fendrikanin emptied the water and replaced the cauldron on its hook she glanced at his mount where it stood favoring its right front leg.
Ashamed of the cold welcome she'd given, Annikke said, “I am somewhat skilled with herbs and healing, my lord. Would you have me look at your horse?”
“I’d be grateful.” Lord Fendrikanin smiled at her, sending an unexpected warmth dancing through her.
Annikke nodded, trying to hide her reaction. “Benoia, come closer. It’s time you learned something of herb-craft.”
It was nearly full dark by the time Benoia completed applying the poultice to the animal’s leg. Lord Fender, as he asked to be called, held a lamp to see by.
“Well done, girl. Well done.” Annikke rubbed the nervous sweat from her hands. It was long past time to be inside.
Benoia looked at Annikke with a shy smile and pride glowing in her eyes.
Annikke felt a prick of shame.
Is that the first time I’ve praised her?
*
After dinner, Annikke and Lord Fender continued to talk long after Benoia had fallen asleep in her cot. He had refused to take the girl’s bed from her, saying it was too short for him, nor would he accept Annikke’s. He’d declined her offer very prettily, too, and without suggesting she share it with him.
But she was Fey-marked after all. No sane man would want to share her bed.
It was late, long past time to retire, but Annikke couldn’t sleep. She never slept on Midsummer’s night. Lord Fender showed no sign of fatigue either, but continued chatting away. Somehow he teased the story of her silver hair from her. Most of it. She didn’t want to speak of the last part. Maybe this year it would stop.
“I’m surprised you didn’t seek out the Daughters of Freya when the local folk shunned you,” he said when she’d finished her tale.
His words shocked her. She’d seen no disgust or revulsion in his eyes, but now he said this?
“You think me fit only for the company of whores and witches?”
Lord Fender shook his head. “No, mistress. Gossip has wronged the Daughters of Freya just as it has you. I should think you would be less believing of such ugly rumors. For the most part they are women without the protection of family who have come together to support one another. I think they would welcome you.”
Annikke stared. He was a lord, yet he spoke well of the Daughters of Freya? There was a tale there. “How is it that you know—”
A single sharp knock at the door cut off her question.
Annikke gripped the arms of her chair tightly. It was happening again. They’d come back—as they did every Midsummer’s night.
Lord Fender looked at her questioningly. He must have seen the dread in her face because his posture grew alert. “What is it?”
Fear gripped her throat. She could only shake her head mutely.
“Someone must be in desperate need to seek a healer on this of all nights,” he said. “Shall I see who it is?”
Another knock came. Two raps this time.
Lord Fender rose from his chair.
“No!” She flung out her arm to stop him.
Every Midsummer’s night for the last ten years the knocking had come, rapping persistently for entrance. Till the end of their lives, her parents had kept the house closed shut those nights, even in the warmest weather. For all they couldn’t look at her, they wouldn’t let their only child be stolen from them a second time.
Three raps.
Had she hoped that having Benoia here, and Lord Fender, would somehow keep them away?
“I’ll not let any harm come to you or the girl, mistress.” Lord Fender went to the door, his hand on the hilt of his long dagger. “Who seeks the healer?” he called through the closed door.
Four loud reports.
“Speak or depart!” Lord Fender shouted, drawing his blade.
Benoia stirred on her cot, and the fire popped, but otherwise all was still. No further knocks sounded at the door.
Could they be gone so soon? Usually the rapping lasted for a candlemark or more, but then, she’d never spoken to them. Her parents had forbidden it those first years, and later, when she was alone, she’d been too afraid.
Lord Fender looked at her in question, but all she could do was shake her head while clenching her sweaty palms in her skirt. He had just turned to resume his seat when the door reverberated with five sharp blows.
Suddenly Annikke could stand it no longer. She wanted it to stop. It
had
to stop. Now. Tonight. How dared these folk bring fear into her life year after year? She jumped up from her chair and threw open the door. “Begone! Trouble me no further! Have you not tormented me enough?”
Lord Fender jerked her back from the door, interposing his body between her and the visitors. Abruptly he stopped, drew a sharp breath, and sagged against the doorframe, his dagger held loosely at his side. Annikke peered past his shoulder.
“I am Gaelon,” her visitor said. “I’ve come to repay my debt.”
On her porch stood an Elf. Two others waited in the yard, one with his hand pointed almost casually toward Lord Fender. The near one stood tall and slender and strong like a loose limbed colt. His feathery brows arched delicately, and his bright green eyes slanted over high cheek bones. Hair bright as sunlight on water fell past his shoulders. He was beautiful—and Fey.
A splash of shock stole Annikke’s breath. She recognized him.
“What—what do you want here?”
“We have sought these last twelve summers to settle our debt to you. Our honor, and our Elders, require us to make amends for the wrong we did. Your life here among your own people is not what it would have been. We will make a place for you among us.”
“No!” Benoia screeched. She jumped from her cot and rushed forward, throwing her arms around Annikke’s waist.
Startled, Annikke put an arm around Benoia. “It’s all right, girl,” she murmured, though she had no faith that it was.
The young Elf raised an eyebrow in surprise and smiled. “She’s a pretty one you’ve taken in, and her Talent is a rare one. Not many are immune to our glamour. Mayhap she’d like to join us, too.”
Horror cascaded down Annikke’s spine as his true purpose became clear. It was Benoia he really wanted. Another young girl to bedazzle and destroy. Annikke glanced up at Lord Fender. His face was relaxed and he stared out the door as if he no longer saw what was before him. He’d be no help. Him, they had under their glamour.
“You will not take this child.” Annikke held Benoia tighter and spoke as if she really had a hope of defying them.
Gaelon looked disappointed. “Very well. But what of you?”
“You’re the one who stole me! Why? Why did you destroy my life?”
Gaelon actually looked away. She hadn’t thought an Elf would feel shame. Then his clear green eyes found hers again. “You helped me win a wager fifteen summers gone. I—”
“A wager? A wager! What
wager
was worth my life?”
“My companions said no human’s Talent could make an
alarion
seedling grow as fast as one of us could.
I
said you could.” He said it proudly, as though he had championed her.
Annikke stared at him, dumbstruck. For that, for
that,
he’d stolen her life away?
She’d always loved that her Talent, the bit of magic that each person developed at puberty, had taken the form of making things grow. Now it seemed sullied. It was her Talent that had condemned her.
Gaelon hurried on before she could vent her outrage. “Your Talent is strong, and I won the wager. I owe you for that, and for the changes I brought to your life. Life among the
Lios Alfar
is pleasant. You enjoyed it before. Will you return with me?”
Changes? He utterly destroyed her life and he called it
changes
? “Why would I want to return to what I have no memory of?”
“That I can remedy,” he said, reaching out.
She jerked back, but not before he touched the side of her face.
She remembered.
Trees that cuddled her like a beloved child. The sweet, sharp taste of fruit that quenched thirst like a mountain stream. Water that laughed and sang with a friend’s voice. Music that made her heart break with its loveliness, and laughter that danced through the soul. And the Elves. Beautiful, remote, tall, and elegant.
She sighed. “So beautiful.”
“Please, mistress, don’t go!” Benoia’s plea came from where her face was buried in Annikke’s shoulder, startling in its vehemence. Had she so misread the girl’s feelings?
“You could rejoin your family early, Benoia,” Annikke offered, hating the idea of returning her to her brutish father.
“No! I want to stay here. Teach me herb-craft. Teach me to heal. Please!”
“If you stay with me, some will say you are Fey-marked as well. Have you thought of that?” She asked gently.
Benoia had enough sense not to answer right away. She paused for a moment, then gazed steadily up into Annikke’s eyes. “Let them talk.”
Annikke’s heart threatened to choke her. Benoia would risk so much to stay with her?
“Come back with us, Annikke,” the Elf said. “You were happy among us. We’ll take good care of you.”
It was true. She’d been well cared for among the Elves.
What did she have to keep her here, except Benoia?
Annikke looked down at the girl’s pleading eyes, felt Benoia’s strong warm arms clasped tightly around her waist. She had Benoia. Benoia, who
wanted
to stay with her.
“No. I don’t belong there.”
Gaelon’s face fell. “But I must make amends.”
“You have nothing I want.”
“Mistress,” Benoia said softly. “Don’t be so quick.” She turned to the Elf and swallowed nervously before asking, “Could you give my mistress a husband?”
Annikke choked.
What?
How could the girl have guessed how lonely she was?
Gaelon laughed. “Of course! Will this man do?” He gestured at Lord Fender.
“No! You mustn’t!” Annikke exclaimed.
“He’s very handsome, mistress,” Benoia urged. “He’d give you beautiful babies. And I don’t think he’d beat you, even without the glamour upon him.”
Gaelon raised his hand. “Speak and it shall be so, Annikke.”
“No! You can’t give me another’s life in exchange for mine.”
Gaelon’s hand fell to his side again. “Then what?”
Annikke shook her head. What could she ask for? He must give her something, or he’d be back next summer, and the next after that, rapping on her door all Midsummer’s night until he repaid his debt. What could compensate her for what he’d stolen?
She stood silent for a long time, thinking of what she’d lost, and what she longed for. Gaelon and Benoia held their peace, waiting as the stars glittered overhead.
“I am already known to be Fey-marked,” she finally said. “I might as well have something besides my hair to show for it. I am skilled in herb-craft, but there are many whom I still cannot help. Give me some of your knowledge of healing.”
Gaelon laughed. “Of course! And a touch of the magic that goes with it too!”
“I want only what I can pass on to Benoia,” she said looking at the girl. “If you want to learn.”
Benoia’s smile made her face shine like the sun on a summer’s day. “That would be a welcome gift, indeed.”
*
The sun rose clear and bright, burning away the mist that lingered at the edge of the forest. The poultice had reduced the swelling in the foreleg of Lord Fender’s mount, but it still favored the leg.
“I’ll have to lead him all the way back to Quartzholm,” Lord Fender lamented after walking the bay around the yard. Though he spoke calmly enough, he still seemed unsettled by the night’s events, and anxious to be on his way.
Annikke cast a cautious glance at Lord Fender. “Perhaps not.”
Kneeling beside the horse she drew several runes in the dirt around its hoof. She cupped her hands around his leg and murmured,
“Falle til ro, hest. Dyrkke, hele. Falle til ro og hele.”
Her fingers tingled and her palms grew warm as she invoked Gaelon’s gift. When she’d done, the horse stood on the leg showing no sign of pain and rubbed her with his velvet muzzle.
Annikke laughed. “I’ll take that as a thank you.”
Lord Fender gave her a sober look. “I thank you as well, mistress. But you should be careful whom you let witness that.”
Annikke returned a level gaze. “I’ll be careful, as will Benoia. And we’ll not speak of you or those other—visitors,” she assured him. “I may be Fey-marked, my lord, but I’m not addled.”
Lord Fender gave her a small smile. “That you clearly are not. You made a good bargain, mistress. You’ll be happier with this gift than you would have been with me.”
“Freyr and Freya!” Annikke felt the heat rise in her face. “You heard that?”
“The Elves must have let their glamour slip enough so I could know how my fate was decided.” Fender lifted her chin with gentle fingers. “You are fair, Lady, and the man who takes you to wife will be fortunate indeed, but I thank you for letting me choose my own path. I am in your debt. If ever you are in need, call upon me.”
Annikke nodded. “You are most welcome, my lord. And if ever you travel this way again, you have a place by my fire, just—please—don’t come a-knocking on Midsummer’s night!”
