Return from Afar: A Viking's Fate

By Susan Schaffner

With the onset of spring in Sudrland, alliances of love and loyalty have shifted and settled. Eirik resides with his wife, Asta, at Cairnby Manor, but keeps his consort, Alisondream-traveler from the twentieth centurytucked away at a nearby cottars cottage. While Asta understands her husbands relationship with Alison, Eiriks brother, Sigmus, accuses Alison of witchery. And despite his own betrothal, Sigmus not so secretly covets and pursues Asta. Circumstances are further complicated when matriarch, Britna, proposes that her sons return her skraeling lover to his desert homethe surprising condition, that she goes too. As sails are set for another voyage, betrayal and desire become undercurrents aboard the ships, and when seas turn stormy the arduous journey threatens to be their last great adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 26, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504916882

Susan Schaffner

In a four-book series, Susan Schaffner merges the mythology and lore of Medieval Vikings and the tribal peoples of Sonora, Mexico, sweeping readers off on a journey through eight hundred years of adventure and romance. From the placid waters of the Sea of Cortez to the storm-ridden North Atlantic, the two cultures collide and intertwine to create a compelling saga.

Book preview

RETURN

FROM AFAR

A VIKING’S FATE

SUSAN SCHAFFNER

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© 2015 Susan Schaffner. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 06/23/2015

ISBN: 978-1-5049-1689-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-1688-2 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Characters

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

CHARACTERS

CAIRNBY MANOR, SUDRLAND 1108

Eirik Sigmusson

Asta Haroldsdóttir - Eirik’s wife

Alison MacGiverson - Eirik’s courtesan

Sigmus ver Sigmusson - Eirik’s brother

Britna Macquoid - Mother to Eirik and Sigmus

Ktamyu- Skraeling Chief, lover to Britna

Hamish MacLeod - Britna’s uncle and clansman

Kaithren - Hamish’s daughter

Geir Hakonsson - Kaithren’s husband and Cairnby factor

Shipmates and friends,

Arn- Foster father of Sigmus

Gunnar, Leif, Ketill, Valdi

BHARRAICH CASTLE, SUDRLAND

Aedh Macaoidh- Clan leader

Margaret - Aedh’s daughter

VINLAND CAMP

Blix Sorrensson -Dead leader of the camp

Bohr Magnusson -Friend of Eirik and Sigmus

TIBURON ISLAND 1908

Mark Linwood, Friend of Alison’s

Don Esteban Ortiz- Seri shaman

Maria, Turtle Clan Mother - Esteban’s wife

Carmella - Esteban and Maria’s daughter

From Afar

Across the wide waters beneath the blue sky,

I sailed to my lover before I should die.

With wind in my sails and course set to roam,

endless days that I spent took me farther from home.

Then to shores that glistened with sunlight and sand

and tall swaying palms in a magical land,

I arrived at the place laced with silver and gold

to begin a new life—how clever and bold

To think that it mattered the land of my dreams,

life is just life in everyday schemes.

‘Tis the heart and the soul which truly abide

and steers our journey against the heaviest tide.

So, look to yourself and the heavens above.

Find eternity waiting in the one that you love.

Alison MacGiverson

CHAPTER ONE

Sudrland—Scotland’s Western Highlands, 1108

A lison MacGiverson was drenched in blood. Rabbit blood. The sight of it infuriated her.

Damn. Damn. Damn it! She cursed as the knife cut another vein. The poor creature’s entrails oozed over her skirts and she regarded the mess with a pragmatic detachment. She’d never known such a small animal had so much blood. Undaunted, she tried again.

It’s this dull blade, not my skill at skinning, she justified, blowing the hair from her eyes.

As the limp animal lie tortured in death, she grimaced at her feeble attempt to prove her hunting prowess. She had barely snared the rabbit in the first place, so why did she think she’d have better luck preparing the damn thing for Eirik’s dinner? Such a joke! Trying to impress him was ridiculous. He’d merely mock her efforts, then settle himself before the hearth and insist on more stories from the future.

She didn’t mind his curiosity, but twentieth century reminiscing proved taxing, and sweeping nostalgia often left her choked with regrets. Eirik never commented on her noticeable conflict nor offered any sympathy. He would, however, manage to artfully change his questions—those that left her wondering the purpose of her dream travel when she’d lived a rich life working at the museum. Even in her isolation at the cottage, she was an intruder. One whom half the citizenry at Cairnby held in disdain.

She studied her bloody hands and the rabbit whose body she had mutilated. Was there one situation over the last year that wasn’t wholly steeped in fate gone awry? Self-pity though did not engender answers to why she’d gone to Sonora, Mexico, met Don Esteban and began dreaming the Seri myth, Came from Afar Man. However noble her intentions to rewrite Seri mythology and reshape the myth’s tragic outcome, the results were catastrophic to those she’d loved, and still loved—to Eirik and Asta.

Hearing Eirik’s horse steadily clomping toward the cottage raised her spirits, but when he kissed her hello the sweetness would quickly turn bitter. Her conscience ached, she was cursed. After drowning on Tiburon, her soul failed to make its final transition and linked itself to Asta’s. Despite the years apart, their separate lives and personalities, they were bound together—the soul of the same woman—the woman who loved Eirik Sigmusson.

With a soft rustle of dried foliage, Eirik’s horse stopped—she assumed it was Eirik. He came twice a week, stayed the night, then rode home to Asta who waited patiently back at Cairnby. The routine had been the same for two months. Spring was slowly creeping across the Highlands, life bursting anew, but her status as mistress to the lord of the manor had not changed. And the lord’s brother, Sigmus, had twice ridden to the cottage to proclaim her a harlot who’d corrupted Eirik’s honor and marriage vows. Why would he think differently?

She felt the same. The trysts, while romantic, were illicit. Her return had only caused pain. Still, she couldn’t let go of the thin thread of life that, Gruoch, her benefactor, had bequeathed to her. The power, through her own will, to dream her body into corporal form. Regrettably, Gruoch had died. In her stead, she left Gille the cat, her familiar, but thus far he hadn’t communicated to her as promised. How could she keep abiding the situation with no one to console and guide her?

You have a wistful look, bonny Alison.

She turned and smiled. Eirik dismounted and grinned. He ignored the bloody mess on her lap, stooped and kissed her before she could comment. His lips tasted of ale as his beard brushed her cheek with familiar feelings of love and resignation. Circumstances were as they were. Perhaps she should ride the tides as Eirik’s ship, Wind Serpent, had done on their voyage to the Seri lands and back. Asta had accepted the duality of their roles as wife to Eirik. Why couldn’t she practice the same faith? Faith, however, was something easier to proselytize than embrace.

Hungry? she asked as they pulled apart.

Nay, for that bloodied carcass. There be plenty of fine food for you, packed by Asta and Britna’s hands. He smiled, grabbed the rabbit and tossed it aside. Tell me, why do you think it necessary to prove yourself in my time? There be nothing to prove to me. He rose and stood her on her feet. A wave of irritation rippled up her spine and she stiffened.

"I was not trying to prove myself in your light. I merely craved some hare pie!"

Eirik laughed. With the meat shred in wee bits, you think there be ample hare for your pie?

Indeed I do. Huffing off to retrieve the rabbit, she glanced back. Eirik’s mouth was broad with a grin as he’d gone back to his horse and grabbed his rucksack. She had to admit she was hungry for the fresh bannocks, cheese and berries, Asta usually packed. While she did not quaff ale to excess, she did enjoy a tankard before bed. With a low growl in the stomach, she stomped back and took the ale skin from Eirik.

A change o’ heart, lass?

How is everyone at Cairnby? Switching the subject, she smiled through gritted teeth.

Good, he chuckled. Ready for spring. The men grumble to be gone. Especially Sigmus. He be impatient to sail to Sigmusbudir, then beyond for the timbering.

Did you not bring enough timber last time?

They walked lazily from the byre to the cottage, speaking of mundane matters.

Aye, but much coin can be made from it. While timber may not be a necessity at Cairnby, it makes our coffers swell by the trading of it. Eirik pushed open the door and Gille scampered to meet him. The orange tabby loved Eirik and though Gille remained an enigma to her, Eirik doted on him, admiring his feline form and animal spirit.

Gille, let Eirik walk to the table before you beg for treats.

She and Eirik exchanged smiles as Gille’s greeting rendered Eirik unable to move. Gille wove his body through Eirik’s ankles, then in one graceful leap landed on his shoulder, purring loudly in his ear.

There be plenty of salted cod for my wee lad. Has Eirik forgotten you yet?

Eirik set the pack of supplies on the table, then in one stroke slit open a parcel and hand-fed Gille a hunk of dried fish. It was a ritual between the two, and a display of affection that she enjoyed watching. A simple, domestic exchange that brought a benign normalcy to the truth of their complicated relationship.

I do believe that someone needs a good wash, Eirik commented, sniffing the air. He was not smelling the dried fish nor Gille, but looked askance at her.

God, what I must look like, she thought, glancing down at her bloody clothes. Do not eat all the fish, she remarked, then bolted out the door. The stream water would be freezing, but she had no other choice but a good dunking.

I will wash your back if you want, Eirik called after her.

Just stay away, or I shan’t be back at all!

Where have I heard that ploy before, Eirik muttered. He looked at Gille and laughed. When the cat replied with a high squeak and jumped to the floor, he laughed again, then unpacked the rest of the supplies. So, wee lad. Has your mistress been keeping out of trouble?

Gille blinked once and sauntered to the bed.

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The crackle of the fire had nearly lulled her to sleep. She lifted her head from Eirik’s shoulder and he smiled down at her. Gille was asleep on the bed, and she was grateful that they had not rushed to dethrone the furry monster from his blissful slumber. After her guilty musings earlier in the day, she wanted a chaste interlude with Eirik—no physical contact below the waist. He had seemingly read her mood. With a hearty meal of roasted venison devoured, they curled before the hearth and idled away the afternoon.

I cannot stay the night, he said suddenly, surprising her.

She sat up, knowing her chin must have fallen to her knees. She didn’t want to see him go so soon. Reasons flew through her mind, but one conclusion remained suspect—Asta had bid his hasty return. Possibly the true wife’s patience had melted away, like winter snows thawing under the summer sun. Could she blame her? Not at all.

Asta bid you to return? After the question popped from her mouth, she was sorry and hoped there was no bitterness in her voice. There was none in her heart.

Nay, Britna. Aedh Macquoid arrives tonight. He comes to fetch Margaret back home. Will be a feast in his honor, though I doubt Margaret will depart with her father on the morn. Britna expects trouble. She wants me near to intercede if conflict arises between Sigmus and Aedh.

Sigmus feels an attachment to Margaret?

He nay kens his heart for sure. Margaret has made plans though, one-sided in nature. But ‘tis uncertain if Aedh will consider a disinherited Northman for his daughter’s husband. A match as that would not be justified in his mind … seeing the bad end of our father.

You go where you are needed, Eirik. But I will miss you overly much.

Asta asked that I bring you back. Will you come? He glanced down, then brought his eyes levelly into hers. She could not read whether it was a request he truly wished, or a promise he’d made to Asta. Either way, she would not go to Cairnby.

I cannot. Please, understand. I am seen as the mistress. Asta the tolerant wife. Although I blame no one for their assumptions, I cannot go to Cairnby and face the clan, even if Asta and you know the accusations are false.

When will this change, Alison? I grow weary of this duplicity. I lie to come here. Sigmus and Margaret ken I ride to see you and they think me a lout and Asta a fool, or blind to the truth. Britna ignores the situation. She and Ktamyu be enough of an oddity.

Suddenly she became alarmed at what Eirik insinuated. Did he want her gone? Was it time to let go of her dreaming body and join with Asta? Then cross the last hurdle? Death. Final and absolute. She wouldn’t ask for fear of the answer, but a tear slipped down her cheek.

Matters will change … I cannot say when, but …

Think you that I want you gone!? He took her in his arms. Ne’er, but alone—you and me, Asta and me—we are incomplete. If I understand, you wait to gather your courage for the next step, but courage would nay be needed if your heart recognized your other self with me. You should experience how it once was. How it could be again …

The three of us living together? He nodded. What does Asta say to this idea?

‘Tis not something that I have asked her. We do not oft speak of you. She fears that I love you more than her …

Well I certainly know where your true loyalties and love abide … Eirik snatched her hand, twisting her wrist. . . . where they should, with her. By his stony face, she regretted that she’d misspoke. Never would she allude to jealousy, not when she honestly felt the opposite.

You think so, eh?

Provoked by her words, Eirik stood, pulling her to her feet. In a long stride, he yanked her toward the corner. With a sweep of his hand, Gille jumped from the bed and scurried under the table. Astonished by his strength, she hit the bed, bounced into the pelts and instinctively brought her arm across her face. Eirik looked angry enough to strike her—she recalled he’d been angered once before with her—when she’d first explained to him who she was. He indeed had a temper when crossed.

You want me to say it? To break trust with Asta?

He dropped a knee on the bed and covered her body with his own. Pulling her arm back, his eyes pierced into hers. Less afraid, she read his face. He was consumed with feelings denied for weeks and she’d reacted as if he were a villain. She had not meant to goad him, then he pressed his cheek gently next to hers.

I love you … more than …

Please, do not say it. Do not think it! Even though her voice was sharp, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him as if the wretched loneliness of her past would have to be relived again.

I must say it this once … you must ken?

You have said enough to make my conscience cry …

But I cannot deny my feelings … you be the one … my great love …

"I am the one driving a wedge between you and Asta. Do you not understand? She is your wife. Here, now!"

I know what you say, what she has said. Now hear what I feel with my heart. I love you more every time we share even the simplest, briefest of moments. For the sacrifices you have made for me and Asta. I love you for breathing life into me, for saving my soul as much as your own. I live because of you.

Oh, Eirik. I should stop your confessions …

Part of me loves Asta still. But I have yearned for something …

She is changing. Desperate to defend Asta, she added. The voyage made her strong and able. More worldly-wise. Is she not a different young woman than the girl you married?

Eirik shook his head. For months you resided in her mind. She changed because you began dreaming and interceding in our lives. From the beginning, as you explained, you dreamed and observed us. Then you became her and she let you have that control. At times I wondered at her boldness. Once I understood who you were and why you had come to us, then I knew the reasons for her behavior and my confusion to it.

Asta is me and I am her. You look at me and forget that …

I forget willingly. He smiled. You be as bonny as she, but beyond that … do you think that I say this with no regret in my heart? My words will haunt me on the days to come. I will return to Cairnby. She will sense a change. But I could nay continue, leaving her, coming here. Coming here and leaving you … without telling you the truth.

So now you are unburdened, but I must suffer the guilt of your confession. Though she spoke softly, her tone was steely.

That be what a wife does for her husband. Listens to his heart, gives comfort in strife. He ran his finger gently down her face. And you be my wife. The one of my dreams, Alison. Do you nay feel ‘tis right when I say I love you?

Your words change nothing … I mean, I will leave when the time comes and she will stay. That is our destiny. You must resign to that fact as I have done. Say no more. Let your emotions return to where they belong, to Asta. She will be the one to give solace when I am but a memory, pleasant to remember.

Do not mock my feelings! Eirik rolled from the bed and rose. Pleasant memories be for children! Though it dishonors my marriage, I do not make this declaration lightly.

Eirik, she said, rising. Your words have given me the greatest gift, but I am unworthy. For months I watched you and Asta with envy, yet not once did I think you would forsake your vows with her. Now it seems Asta’s fears of losing you were not without reason. I never meant that to occur. All I wanted was to share my life through stories, not have you suddenly in my thrall.

His face softened. Alison, ‘twas nay your tales, but you. Just you.

No, it was the stories. They bewitched you into believing that I am more than she. I am not. She has faith and courage. An unselfish heart. Me, I am the opposite. The one who cannot leave, who lingers and causes mischief with your emotions. Our time together has filled my heart with what was lost. She touched his cheek. But I see clearly that we should curtail your visits. Asta must come in your stead so that she and I can prepare for the joining.

That will ne’er happen as long as you be here and I still breathe. I will not let you leave! Eirik’s eyes flared; he grabbed her hand. "For weeks, I foolishly thought that I could reconcile my feelings. That if you came to Cairnby, we could abide the comments and stares. That I could separate my emotions for her and you. I do love her, her sweet goodness. But what lays between us ‘tis not the same. What I experience with you … well, I have waited long enough for this reunion. I will nay stop coming, upon my word I swear!"

Resting her forehead on his chest, she sighed. She was to blame for the debacle. Damn her enthusiasm to relate her life in Minnesota, her years of study and books. The maps she’d drawn, the long explanations of navigating, of places and people. The future inventions and wonders of the world to be. She had charmed him away from Asta as if she’d cast a spell over him. An accusation from Sigmus that was unfortunately ringing true.

Eirik, my love. I do not want to be hurt nor do I want to hurt you, but I am. I must lose my body and return to Asta. The temptation … for our hearts to become more attached … will be torture and too cruel to Asta, who loves us both.

For you to go would be the worse torment. To see me only through her eyes. You might not find the key to the dreaming and be trapped for months, years. And have you considered, if you pass to your death, we too might perish? What about the skraeling myth? Do you want Ktamyu’s death on your hands as well, killing Britna with your selfishness?

Her pulse quickened, blood rushed to her ears. Asta had expressed the same fears. With the dreaming, the potions and spells, anything could happen. Providence’s convoluted-nature was anything but certain. When she let go, she’d have to be sure Asta and Eirik survived. Ktamyu too. Because of the Seri myth, Gruoch did not know the outcome of the joining. She’d deferred to the wisdom waiting on Tiburon. To Don Esteban. But it was impossible to connect with him, or was it?

Slowly, over the weeks to come, your love for me will kill Asta.

Eirik glanced away. Then we will hide what be hurtful to keep her alive … and us. His eyes returned to hers. ‘Tis nay a lie, but rather a means to survive.

A sixteenth century poet, William Shakespeare, wrote: ‘I weep to have what I fear to lose’. Perhaps we should part before we weep too much. There is more responsibility here than just our feelings for the other.

I cannot let you go from my life.

When she saw the anguish well in his eyes, she had no recourse but to acquiesce.

Then for the present, it will be as before, but Asta must come more frequently.

So, you will accompany me back to Cairnby? His eyes twinkled. Would be pleasant to recall on lonely nights, your arse bouncing upon my lap.

She shook her head no, but chuckled nonetheless. Males were so adept at relentless persisting once the upper hand had been gained.

I will wait here. You bring Asta after matters are settled between Sigmus and Margaret. I am sure Asta will be full of news. The gossip at Cairnby must be rife after the odd couplings within the manor walls … and without. She smiled.

More seriously, he pressed. If you come, we could allay the doubts in Asta’s heart.

She is not so easily tricked. She would look at us and see our guilt.

He leaned over and took her chin. I will miss you. Think of me?

Likely I will think of no one nor anything else.

Eirik’s face colored with pleasure. And I will do the same.

To watch him ride away suddenly elicited panic. She didn’t want to be left alone. Maybe she should go? She hesitated, then Gille strolled to her and clawed at her skirt. Stay at the cottage, he spoke through telepathy. Surprised he’d interceded, she reluctantly agreed. Only distance could clarify the emotions coursing through her heart.

Be safe.

You too. No more rabbit skinning. You nearly ruined your tunic and apron.

Then the cleaning of it will keep me busy and my mind from matters of lying and honor.

He frowned. You do not think my conscience heavy with conflict?

No, I believe you will ride back filled with guilt. And I will be here sitting before the fire, missing and longing for you … my own conscience ravaged by remorse.

Ravaged by remorse, eh? After a long contrite look, he turned, snatched his pack and strode to the door. Lifting the latch, he paused, then silently walked outside to the byre. Heart sinking, she raced to follow, but he had mounted and was trotting down the road before she could bid him a proper farewell.

Dejected, she walked back into the cottage. Looking around the lonely space, she wondered why she always turned happy moments into ones of conflict? She loved Eirik more that her own life. She’d given everything up to be with him. Yet she felt as if she’d sacrificed nothing. Eirik had become that important to her. But Asta would be the right wife for him. Asta could give him what she could not.

With a sigh she went to the hearth and placed dried wood chips on the fire. Flames blazed and she put her palms to the heat. Turning, she then saw a small rolled parchment on the table. The string around it was tied into a bow. Curious, she picked it up.

Eirik had left her a note. Heavyhearted she untied the knot to read his scrawl scratched over the tanned animal skin. In his own hand, he’d written a poem for her, and her eyes watered at his sentiments.

You come to me in the soft

new light of spring,

in the zenith of our time,

and our love renews itself,

like the heather on the moor.

We cling together,

watching the blooming of the bud.

And our souls smile,

knowing that there be no barrier

to the trueness of our hearts.

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Alison stared at Gille. She’d spent the last hour unburdening her heart to the feline and the dissertation left her pining for a horseback ride across Eirik’s lap. Why hadn’t she gone? Gille, his eyes flashing in the firelight as he preened his fur, ignored her and she felt like an absolute idiot, rehashing the same old fears and self doubts to a cat. Then as tears of frustration welled in her eyes, Gille jumped from his perch and climbed onto her lap.

"It be time to take action, Alison. Stop being consumed wi’ doubt. Eirik loves ye. ‘Tis what ye wanted, eh?" Gille began kneading his claws gently into her thighs, carefully so he did not prick her skin. Mesmerized, she gazed into the cat’s eyes.

Why do you not speak to me more often?

"‘Tis nay my task to entertain ye, but offer assistance when ye canna find yer way …"

Then help me. I am surely lost.

"Indeed ye seem to be, because ye brood on the wrong matters. Eirik’s feelings be clear. His emotions hae circled back to ye which had to be. Now direct yer time to the cures of plants, and when Eirik brings Asta, tutor her in the art of healing and dreaming. Concentrate on dreaming. That be essential. There be little time until ye sail for the island. Once aboard ship ye must rely on yerself for counsel." His eyes gleamed.

We sail back? Can’t be, she mused to herself, then addressed his other comments.

We have covered most of what I know … those cures I learned from my father and through my studies. She shifted Gille’s weight and he arched his back in response. But never once did you or Gruoch speak about Asta stepping into my dreams.

"Then I tell ye now. The study of plants and cures was but a way to open her mind for the dreaming. A way for her to learn to concentrate. Asta’s faith alone will nay help her fulfill her part of yer destiny."

Do you purposely try and confuse me?

Gille’s eyes danced in the light. "Nay, on purpose, lass. But ye question providence, as if it be accountable to ye. ‘Tis merely that which be unknowable in the present, but should be prepared for as if training for battle. Asta trusts in what she doesna see. Ye trust in only what ye can see. Prepare yerself. Strengthen yer will to dream the conclusion of yer fate."

I struggle vainly against what is out of my hands to change …

"Nothing be in vain, Alison. Yer need to understand, to seek explanations has given yer spirit its light and thirst for knowledge. Asta be faithful and good, but waits for answers that will ne’er come because she engages not her spirit to know. Knowledge doesna come from the outside. It comes from within, and‘tis the calling of each soul. Take her into yer dreams. Help her see what she has nay considered before."

How did I impact the skraeling myth then?

"The will, in the midst of a dream, be powerful. Yet when outside forces cause matters to turn course, then predestined events suddenly cloud wi’ no clear outcome other than the strength and direction of the dreamer’s will."

She thought for a moment. But I was told that providence sailed firmly on its own course … a ship with an iron-cast rudder and accountable to no one?

"True enough, but mated souls have extraordinary powers to realign destiny …"

Asta and me?

"Ye be one spirit, only fractured by catastrophe. I speak of ye and Eirik."

My coming has caused Asta heartache … and I take no pleasure in knowing that Eirik and I bring her anguish and pain. What she has feared from the beginning has become fact.

"Fears will fade as she experiences yer life in the dreams."

I do not understand what she will learn … about her fears?

"That be her lesson. Her fears were once yers, only ye overcame them."

Seeing my life will confuse her. Time has wrought unbelievable change to daily life and …

"Then let her be confused. Perhaps she willna be as baffled as ye think. Eirik seems eager to hear every detail of the future. His hunger to know matches yer own. Do what I advise and guide Asta. She has idled while ye hae diligently sought the exploration of yer mind. Know now that yer time of solitude be over. Ye deserve the love ye lost."

I am unworthy …

"That, Alison, is nay for ye to judge."

CHAPTER TWO

W ith a scowl on her face, Alison gave Eirik a small shove toward the door.

You have no kindling, Alison, Asta commented, her back hunched over the wood box. She had no notion that Alison silently implored Eirik to depart the cottage. Eirik, go find some wood chips to feed a fire?

"Yes, Eirik. Would you just go … do that?"

Asta glanced over her shoulder, hearing the acerbic tone in Alison’s voice.

I will have to splinter a log, Eirik said, seemingly oblivious to Alison’s suggestion.

Then do so … here … Alison strode to the hearth, picked up a small log and offered him the hunk of knotted oak. There is a small hatchet hanging outside the horse byre. Shall I fetch it for you? With a raised brow, she did her best to make him aware of her request—she wanted the time alone with Asta.

Aye, if you please, Eirik responded, unaware of the byplay. I can chip away while Asta and you unpack the stores.

You will make a mess, Eirik, Asta said, hands on her hips. Go outside and give Alison and me a chance to speak of domestic matters. I am sure that she is starved for a bit of gossip.

Eirik shrugged. When may I return and take sanctuary against the night?

I will send Gille to fetch you. Until then, busy yourself elsewhere, Alison huffed, striding to the door and swinging it wide for his departure. Asta chuckled as Eirik walked outside.

What has you biting the head of the man we love? Asta asked with a smile.

He knows that we have had little time together, still he lingers when we want our privacy.

Perhaps he enjoys listening to our conversations …

The conversations of women!? Alison cracked sarcastically.

Maybe he fears that he will miss one of your fantastic stories.

Yes, well I grow tired of storytelling.

What has you troubled, Alison? Asta stepped closer and extended her hand. You seem worried. Has something changed, something that I should know?

No … only the three of us together has never been a situation in which I feel at ease. Do you not feel the strain? She took Asta’s hand and squeezed. How could you not?

Asta’s face remained passive, while her own emotions welled and bubbled as a geyser about to blow. Since Eirik had declared his love, she’d been torn between glee and guilt. Surely Asta had to sense the shift of alliance within Eirik and her own nervous energy. Yet Asta appeared serene.

We have had little contact … the three of us. I was actually surprised when Eirik suggested that we come to see you, and that I should plan on staying a fortnight. He said it was essential and that you had been very specific in asking me here. Is that right?

A lump came into her throat. Well … yes. I did say that you and I need time together, time to prepare … for the inevitable.

And do you believe we are closer to that time?

Honestly, I do not know, but to delay is imprudent. Gruoch was adamant that one day we would return to the skraeling island. As improbable as that seems, we might. But why would Eirik and Sigmus want to repeat a dangerous voyage? So, we must proceed as if Gruoch only suggested that we dream of the island. Perhaps through dreaming, we can find the secret of joining the light between us. Would you be willing to dream with me?

I suppose … yes, of course, but am I not part of your dream already? ‘Tis your dream that keeps Eirik and I alive, is it not?

Same refrain, and for it she had no definitive answer. Had she altered the past? And Eirik and Asta, Ktamyu and Sigmus lived only because of her dreaming? Or had she dreamed them into the safe sanctuary of reality by the love she possessed? The point was moot, according to Gille. The cat was quite insistent that she take Asta into her dreams and those forays would be, for the sake of a better explanation, dreams within dreams. Layers of her unconscious mind, for want of a better interpretation.

Asta, we should not dwell on questions that have no clear answers.

Aye, but ‘tis an important point to clarify before we proceed with the joining.

I agree, yet for you to begin dreaming with me does not require us to come to any conclusion for the present. Whether I am dreaming you into a safe existence, or I rescued your body and soul from death, has no bearing on our dreaming together. Are you not a bit curious about me and my life? Weeks ago you expressed that desire as a means to prepare yourself.

But I have heard the stories from you, and Eirik repeats them oft.

I am sure … however, this will be different. You will see, sense and feel, just what I did before I came back to you. I would enjoy sharing my life with you—that is if you are not afraid to come with me? Questioning Asta’s bravery was a ploy that Asta and Gruoch had used with her. Tit for tat, she chuckled to herself as Asta sucked in a deep breath.

Afraid? Why should I be frightened with you as my guide. The irritation in Asta’s voice crackled. You have my complete trust.

Good! Alison replied, ignoring Asta’s pique. Since Eirik is off on his errand, let us begin.

Now? Asta asked, her voice wavering."

No time like the present. Shall we sit together in the quiet and see where my dream takes us?

She smiled and grabbed Asta by the hand, maneuvering her to the soft pallet of furs she’d already prepared. She sat and pulled Asta to the pallet, positioning her opposite, then rested her palms, face up on her knees, and motioned for Asta to place her palms face down over hers. Asta nervously complied.

We will not go far, I promise. Relax and silence your thoughts.

Asta sighed and closed her eyes, attempting to follow Alison’s directive, but her clammy palms prompted Alison to pull her hands back. To dream required concentration and patience. Alison sensed that Asta would require more time to unwind. Hadn’t Esteban primed her with song and drink? She would do the same with Asta and avoid beginning prematurely, which would only rouse her fear.

To begin hastily will only foster your fear …

I am not afraid …, Asta ruffled.

Well, I am a tad apprehensive. Alison rose, grabbed two cups from the shelf and a flagon of mead. Esteban had used cactus spirits to induce her dreaming. She would utilize the local spirits fermented with honey. A touch of mead will put us in the right frame of mind.

Asta seemed to have no objections, taking a cup and holding it up to be filled. Alison quickly poured. After Asta quaffed the mead and motioned for more, Alison anticipated that their journey would proceed smoothly. Asta’s shoulders immediately slackened and she smiled.

I am ready.

Alison began humming. Her off-key rendition of Down in the Valley made her chuckle to herself. Asta’s face, however, took on a serene expression that undoubtably mirrored her own when her mother sang the melody at bedtime years ago. The song in her mother’s sweet, thin voice, was a memory found on every gentle wind that blew through her heart— "Hear the wind blow, dear. Hear the wind blow." Maybe their first dream would take them back to Minnesota, to her home and the family she loved.

Still humming the tune, Alison settled back on the pallet and faced Asta. Asta placed her palms gently across Alison’s with no prompting. Surprisingly, Asta had calmed sufficiently that Alison felt compelled to let go of her own inner turmoil and focus thoughts on the silent center within. Closing her eyes, her breath became slow and even. She wondered momentarily if the light would emerge in its blinding brilliance. Then thoughts evaporated and quiet pervaded the cottage …

She saw herself on the bed in her room, a notebook resting on her knees. The room was just as she remembered—her cluttered sanctuary. Her bookshelf bulged with more volumes than it could hold. Clothes were thrown over the chair in a pile that appeared ready to topple to the floor. Images of her youth, long past but somehow frozen in time.

Then the scene changed suddenly when her father entered the room. Though his appearance was heartening, she studied him with eyes that already knew every whisker on his chin. And the glow that emanated in the room was not a trifle to the love radiating in her heart. Oh, how she missed him. He’d guided her life. Encouraged her to learn, to be and do, all that she imagined. To her, his love had soothed away many desperate hours of loneliness.

Why had she begrudged him a new life with Ingrid? How could she have acted so selfish and petty as a spoiled child? She was no child, but a grown woman off in the world on her own. He had been lonely too for years and deserved a chance for happiness. Had she not felt the same emptiness without Eirik? The hole in her heart?

Asta whimpered and moved restlessly on the pallet. Her thoughts of Eirik had transferred to Asta, causing her distress. But not to think of Eirik, not to remember the hollow feelings that had haunted her life until that fateful day on Tiburon, was impossible. She squeezed Asta’s hand and the spell of the dream broke. The soft honey-colored light of her bedroom changed into bright, blaring sunshine …

To shield her eyes, she cupped her hand over her face. She was lying on the ground. The smell of loam and dandelions tickled her nose. She was not alone. Beside her sat White Raven. On winter days in Washington, she had often daydreamed about White Raven. He had aroused the first flutter of young love in her heart. She could not forget those times with him and his people.

You leave tomorrow? White Raven asked.

"Yes, but Father and I will return in a week. He has patients north of here …"

"But the ceremony and the gathering … can you not wait to leave?"

She rolled over, grass clinging to her skirts. White Raven’s dark eyes met hers—eyes that were blacker than bituminous coal. What had he thought of her? Were his feelings guarded, because nothing would come of a white girl and an Ojibwa boy? She knew her father would leave as planned regardless of her fascination for Indian rituals.

Alison!

In the distance, she heard her father call. She turned away from White Raven.

Come quickly! His voice was urgent and hoarse in tone. He had been attending White Raven’s grandmother. Perhaps the old woman had taken a bad turn. White Raven grabbed her hand as she bounded to her feet. She struggled briefly and he released his grip.

Ask if you can stay for the ceremony.

She nodded, then ran to answer her father’s call …

The sensation of her feet hitting the ground reverberated in her rib cage. She could feel her boots striking the stones, her skirt whipping around her ankles. She and Asta were in the midst of a dream, but the unfolding events were more real than sitting on the pallet in Gruoch’s cottage. Did she recall the scene from her early life? She couldn’t remember, and yet it felt as if it were happening in the moment …

Alison, over here!

From the ridge, her father waved to get her attention. It was as she feared—White Raven’s grandmother was failing. She gathered a handful of skirt and dashed toward the lodge. Karl MacGiverson’s face was somber. He ducked back into the lodge as she approached. In the next instant, she was on her knees by her father’s side. The pallor on the Indian woman’s face had worsened over the morning.

I need your assistance. The old woman’s breathing is barely discernable. Something in the upper trachea is hindering her oxygen. We must open the passage.

"Early this morning, some of the women were attempting to feed her roasted venison and broth. Perhaps strings of meat caught in her throat …"

Did you not think to tell me this?

"I, ah … did not realize her condition warranted only liquids … I’m sorry, Father."

"How could you know what I didn’t convey? Sterilize the scalpel. I’ll find the chloroform," he directed absently, rummaging through his case. Her condition is weak, but maybe we’re in time … at least to alleviate a simple but possibly fatal outcome.

Dr. MacGiverson pressed a chloroformed cloth over the old woman’s mouth, then nodded for her to hold it in place. Taking the scalpel, he made a precise incision into the neck, then inserted a small metal tube. When it was evident the Indian woman was unconscious, she quickly dabbed the residual blood away. After several minutes, color returned to the wrinkled-face of White Raven’s grandmother.

Will she live?

I won’t know for several days, so I think I’ll postpone our departure. We must monitor her progress and stay with her until she rallies back her strength. Let me explain to the others what we’ve done and why.

Her father rose and left the lodge. She could hear him speaking Ojibwa, his inflection of voice serious but hopeful. As she wiped the old woman’s forehead, White Raven came into the lodge and knelt beside her. When he became alarmed by the protruding metal tube and reached out to dislodge it, she grabbed his hand.

Do not. It helps her breathe.

White Raven glanced into her eyes. In the dim light of the lodge, his expression was hidden, but his emotions, palpable. He leaned over and brushed her cheek. His calloused hand caressed her skin, and she responded by covering his hand with her own. He was thanking her, but his gesture meant more. She could almost read his thoughts and they were dangerous thoughts.

We are staying until Grandmother improves, she stated, dropping her hand. She should not encourage him, but it had been so long since she’d experienced a less lonely moment. Yet to salve her feelings of isolation with White Raven, would only cause complications for her father. He’d noticed them playing, hunting and attending the circle dances that blessed the harvest. And the tribal elders had too. Soon she’d graduate and leave Minnesota for college. She must guard her heart and White Raven’s.

You stay … good.

Yes, she said shyly. His eyes brightened and thoughts flashed back to Eirik. Like White Raven’s, his eyes shined with mischief whenever he successfully coerced her into complying with his wishes. Male arrogance, plain and simple, but White Raven’s look was forbidding. Suddenly alarmed, she wanted to end the dream.

Never had she experienced an overtly compromising situation with her Ojibwa friend. It was as if the dream had spun out of her control. Panicked to leave the scene, she felt Asta drop her hands and cold sweep over the lodge. Then White Raven’s eyes turned deep green, richly verdant and familiar …

Alison! Eirik was shaking her shoulders.

Head wobbling, she opened her eyes. Eirik, I was lost in the dream …

I cannot waken Asta! Why? So much for your experiments!

Startled, she sprang to her feet and ran to the bed in the corner. Asta’s rosy coloring and every other indication, meant she’d merely fallen to sleep. Still, Eirik hovered over the bed, his concern evident. In fact, his ardent concern for Asta eased her guilt. Perhaps, he loved Asta just as before, before she’d come interloping into their lives. She prayed that was the case. Her heart, while brittle after years of loneliness, was far tougher than Asta’s.

She is fine, I assure you.

Asta mumbled, turned her head as her eyes slowly opened.

Eirik, what are you doing here? she asked, her tone suspicious.

Eirik went to the hearth and kicked the pile of wood chips, scattering them. I returned and found you slumped over and Alison pale with fear. I forbid this dreaming. It be dangerous and may take you both far from me! Suppose you did not return, either of you!

Eirik’s temper was past the simmer stage. Before she could intercede, Asta jumped off the cot. She swayed and Eirik caught her with a steadying arm around her waist.

You interrupted us. How will we ken if White Raven’s grandmother lives?

White Raven? Eirik looked furious.

Alison’s young skraeling friend. Asta glanced at her and smiled.

He was a boy whom I knew as a young girl …

By your reactions not a boy I would call, friend!

Asta pushed Eirik away. We must dream, Gruoch said so. Right?

Eirik looked ready to pounce as Asta beseeched her help to pacify his temper. From Eirik’s point of view, she understood how he would fear both of them becoming lost in the dreams. Still, Gille insisted that dreaming was necessary for their final joining. That Asta needed to learn about the life she’d