Quest - Book 2 of Queen's Honor - YA + Adult Fantasy Romance and Adventure (11 page)

The warrior gripped her shoulder.

Astrid sloughed off his touch and stalked off.
 
The frigid air whipped around her, causing her
long ice-white hair to lift from her mantle and extend into the wind as if
reaching for the comfort of another human being. But none would be found. None
ever were, except within the
shadowwalk
, which she
knew was forbidden. For as long as she could remember, her mother and the
warrior had been her only companions. Others were not permitted in her
presence.

"I do not speak lightly, Astrid," he called at her
back, "you would have bested me today. That is a valiant
accomplishment."

She bristled at his compliment, continuing toward the huff
of wood smoke smudging the horizon.

"Your mother is expecting you for your lessons in song.
Do not make her wait. She tires easily these days."

Astrid sheathed her sword as she marched. Their hut appeared
in the distance, a vague outline in the morning's mist. The pain in her throat
increased as she approached.

I'd rather wrestle a
wolverine than battle through one of my mother's lessons.

"Concentrate."

Astrid lay on her back with her eyes closed, listening to
her mother's command.
 
Isla's voice
drifted above her.
 
The older woman's
speech still held a melodic quality, like a fine tune sung over a summer
breeze, yet the tone waned, as if her vocal chords wilted inside her throat.

"You must stay completely tranquil. Empty your thoughts
and feel for the Mother."

Frustrations from the morning's instruction with
Balin
still raged. Her pulse quickened at her mother's
demand for inner stillness. Her head spun with her desires for companionship.
The young woman's inability to communicate her needs clenched her muscles, like
a noose tightening around her neck.

"
Nei
, my child."

Her mother grabbed hold of Astrid's shoulder. Even Isla's
touch had weakened over the seasons—still firm, but lacking the inner strength
Astrid feared since childhood.

"Calm yourself and listen."

The young woman drew in a breath, trying to obey. Isla's
voice turned melodic and her touch sent a vibration through Astrid's shoulder.
The sensation spread throughout her limbs, and her mind quieted. Astrid
suspected her mother used the touch of the Mother in order to calm her. She
melted at the timbre of her Isla's words and the softness of her fingers upon
her, drifting, nearly to the point of sleep.

An image flashed behind her eyelids.
Hallad
,
the boy her mother often spoke of as Astrid's future—now a man—appeared in
front of her. He sat upon a plank, watching two younger men squabble across the
room from him.
Hallad's
muscles bunched under his
linen tunic as he fiddled with a green bow in his lap. His hands were broad,
like his shoulders. His legs and arms overpowered the short bench, like a tree
reaching for both the depth of the earth and the height of the sun at the same
time. Light from the longhouse's vent holes shone down upon him, illuminating
his tousled hair and skin with a golden wash. While the young man observed the
others as they bantered, Astrid realized
Hallad
stayed apart from them—wanting to join in, but unable. When she had viewed him
through the
shadowwalk
before, jealousy for his life
full of companionship sprang up inside her, but now she understood his
connection to others was merely an illusion. For whatever reason, he felt
alone—like her.
 

"Astrid!" Her mother's voice hit like a slap. The
vision disappeared. "You are not sleeping, are you?"

Astrid shook her head.

I wandered into the
shadowwalk
without the ward, and with mother watching!

"What is that look upon your face?"

The young woman realized her lips had formed a smile. She
pressed them back into a straight line.

"You do not enter the
shadowwalk
without shielding your whereabouts! You know how important that is, Astrid. I
have lectured you time and time again. You must always guard against the Shadow
before you sleep, and you never willingly go into the walk. You understand
this, do you not?"

Astrid nodded, unable to admit her guilt. Even if she
managed to control the
shadowwalk
, she would never
purposely cut herself off from the only solace to her loneliness. Viewing
others through the walk wasn't the same as seeing them in the flesh and blood,
but it was the only window to life she had.

Isla huffed, drawing out her breath. "I've schooled you
on the dangers of the Shadow since childhood. I've warded you for your entire
life to keep you safe. It is high time you learn for yourself."

Her mother firmed her grip upon Astrid's shoulder.

If she knew I went
into the walk every night, after she'd sung the ward, what would she do?

"Listen, my light, listen for your heart."

I've seen him, Mamma,
the boy you call my destiny, and I long to go to him.

"Do you hear your heart beating?"

A thump resounded within Astrid's chest. She nodded. Her
throat tightened another notch at the thought of slipping back into the walk.
She struggled to focus on her mother's words, but a rush of images pushed at
the corner of her mind.

"The Mother's life blood beats along with yours."
Isla patted her fingers against her daughter's collar bone, matching the rhythm
of Astrid's heart. "Now, set the ward by saying the word
algiz
."

Astrid twisted her lips, trying to form the first
syllable—her mouth awkward, unruly, and unwilling to comply.

With my eyes closed it
would be so easy to slip away and see him again.

"Al…
giz
." Her mother enunciated
the rune name, drawing out the vowels as if speaking to a child.

Astrid squeezed her eyelids tight, grimacing, forcing back
her thoughts of the young man as she tried to speak. Her tongue thickened as
she twisted it inside her mouth. She bit her lower lip in frustration, and shot
upright, opening her eyes.

Isla struggled to stand from where she knelt by her
daughter's side. Her frailty startled Astrid. With her eyes closed, she could
imagine her mother as she had once been, a striking, towering figure,
resonating with quiet power.
 
But now her
mother's legs wobbled as she straightened, and her body wasted and thinned.

Isla's amber eyes shone with concern; the color matched the
low-lights of her blonde hair. Even though her face retained a peculiar
agelessness, the sickness wore through, hollowing her cheeks, as if eating her
away from the inside out.
 

Astrid reached out to steady her mother, but Isla backed up,
unfolding her hands to reveal a stone marked with the
algiz
rune.

"Watch me, then, but do not give up." Her mother's
voice fell, heavy with effort. "You must learn to fight the darkness. I
will not always be here to ward the Shadow for you and my strength…"

Astrid's brows knitted with worry at her mother's inference.
She reached toward Isla, but once again, her mother stepped backwards.

A rumble started in the back of Isla's throat, as if
clearing a pathway. Then, her song blossomed, filling their one-room hut.

"
Algiz
," sang Isla, but
the word took on multi-layered intonations as her mother weaved a melody
throughout the two syllables, drawing them out. The room buzzed. The rune
floated from Isla's hand. The round stone hovered above her palms, glowing
white, casting beams on Isla's thin cheeks.

In an instant, a cocoon
snugged
around them, like a layer of invisible down-feathers. The once dead space
vibrated with energy. Astrid stretched her arms outward to revel in the
sensation.

"Some hear her as a pulse. Others hear a hum, or a
song, or a whisper within them." Isla cocked her head, studying her
daughter. "See? You can feel the Mother. You just need to open to
her."

Astrid stared up at the gleaming figure of Isla, stunned by
her power. She could not imagine anything inside her could be as beautiful. She
knew darkness lingered in the corners of her being. Why else would she be so
willing to risk the
shadowwalk
when her mother
preached against its dangers? The young woman shook her head to argue
.
 

I cannot.

"You must learn!"

The demand struck Astrid like another blow.
 
A sharp note escaped her mother's lips, and
the rune stone dropped back into Isla's hand. The light extinguished along with
the energy that had saturated the room.

"These are not games we play Astrid! You possess more
power than anyone who has ever lived, save perhaps, the Mother herself. I know.
I have seen it. Much rides on you. And you sit here in your stubbornness,
refusing to try."

But I've tried for so
long and I don't know how!

Astrid's neck constricted again, until she registered a
sharp pain in her throat. She pushed down a swallow as her mother glared at
her.

Then Isla wobbled, reaching for the hut's center pole to
steady herself.

Astrid scrambled to her feet to help. Isla held her off by
raising her hand and waving her daughter away.

"I need a moment to rest."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Astrid stilled, stretching her head around to listen.

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

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

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

"Per chance—"

"What?"

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

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

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

"I fear my strength all but fades."

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

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