The Rise of Runes and Shields: The Seidr Saga Book 1

By J. M. Stephen

“a story fueled by passion and energy that will attract and delight young adult fantasy readers with its special brand of coming-of-age and magical transformations” – D. Donovan, Midwest Book Review

Witchcraft need not be evil.
Twins Freyja and Bjorn live in a time when Viking magic, called the Seidr, is deemed witchcraft and forbidden. When their home is attacked by men sent from the tyrannical local earl, who accuses their mother of a murder she did not commit, the twins are forced to flee into the night and onto an adventure to not only prove their mother’s innocence but also set to rights the ills created by the misuse of the Seidr.
Along the way, they both make new friends, reunite with lost allies, visit hidden worlds, and learn the true ways of the Seidr, until they find themselves caught in the middle of the never ending war of the Fire and Frost Giants. Bjorn must learn the ways of magic and Freyja the life of the shield maidens if they are to survive.

About the Author:
J. M. Stephen is an author and educator with a penchant for mythologies and history. She loves the woods, secluded places, reading Virginia Woolf and being out in nature. She has taught writing, literature and publishing at The Gotham Writer’s Workshop and The New School. Her articles and short stories have appeared in numerous publications. Aside from her young adult series, she is also the author of the adult biblical fantasy, Nod and four works of literary fiction. She now writes for the newspaper, The Deerfield Valley News in the southern Vermont town where she lives with her family.

• Language: English
• Publisher: DX Varos Publishing
• Release date: Jan 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9781955065511

J. M. Stephen

J. M. Stephen is an author and educator with a penchant for mythologies and history. She loves the woods, secluded places, reading Virginia Woolf and being out in nature. She has taught writing, literature and publishing at The Gotham Writer's Workshop and The New School. Her articles and short stories have appeared in numerous publications. Aside from her young adult series, she is also the author of the adult biblical fantasy, Nod and four works of literary fiction. She now writes for newspaper The Deerfield Valley News in the southern Vermont town where she lives with her family.

Book preview

The Rise of Runes and Shields

The Seidr Saga Book 1

J.M. Stephen

Copyright © 2022, Jessica Sticklor

Published by:

DX Varos Publishing

7665 E. Eastman Ave. #B101

Denver, CO 80231

This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

Book cover design and layout by, Ellie Bockert Augsburger of Creative Digital Studios.

www.CreativeDigitalStudios.com

Cover design features:

Brooding atmospheric mountain landscape by XtravaganT; Crossed Medieval Old Antique Axes with Wooden Handle. Isolated on White Background. by tatevrika; Wooden medieval round shield, viking shield painted, isolated on white background, 3d rendering by koya979

ISBN: 978-1-955065-50-4 (paperback)

ISBN: 978-1-955065-51-1 (ebook)

Printed in the United States of America

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

This book is dedicated to

Linsey Abrams

And

Felicia Bonaparte

Two Women Who Taught Me About Writing and Literature

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

About the Author

Chapter One

Freyja held the hilt of her sword firm at the grip, just as Aunt Astrid had taught her. The hilt dug into her skin, but Freyja grasped the heavy iron sword tightly with one hand. She held the wooden shield Aunt Astrid had given her four years ago when she was still small, clasped firmly in her other hand. She grasped the circular shield, painted yellow with red lined markings, by a strip of wood nailed into the circular iron boss at the center of the shield to protect her hand from oncoming dangers. Not that the posts to the sheep fence posed much of a threat as she practiced. The sheep, for their part, bleated and wandered aimlessly as usually, unaffected by the play-fighting around them.

The sword and shield had been gifts, though Freyja had been too young to wield them the last time she'd seen Aunt Astrid before she’d disappeared one day to live high up on the Seventh Mountain.

I was gifted this shield when I was a girl. My father fashioned it from the great Ashe trees. We aren’t supposed to use raw materials to make shields for young girls anymore. Not since Earl Harald disappeared have women been allowed the dignity of battle. Only men and boys are allowed to fight now. But I can see it in you, even if the law does not allow it, you will be a great shield maiden, Aunt Astrid had said that day.

Aunt Astrid had run with Earl Haakon’s shield maidens when she was only thirteen years old. They’d fought Frost Giants and Trolls in the mountains. When she grew up, after Earl Haakon’s passing, Aunt Astrid and Freyja’s mother hid battle against the earl Cnut, who had taken lands from Earl Harald, Earl Haakon’s oldest son and heir. That had been their last battle, as Earl Harald went into the woods in the mountains and was never seen again. After an exhaustive search he was presumed dead and his brother, Olafur, took over as chieftain. That’s when Aunt Astrid left to live in the mountains. That’s when the shield maidens had been disbanded and it was said that magic was outlawed in their village.

Bahhh, Bahhh, the sheep bleated in their wooden pen. Freyja grasped her aunt’s sword, the one her mother told her never to play with and thrust it at a fencepost. She shuffled around the pen as she practiced her footwork. She held the hilt and the blade with her gloved hands half-swording at the post as Aunt Astrid had taught her. Everyday her mother asked her to watch the sheep, to make sure they didn’t knock over their trough of water or get loose from the pen. But it was a tedious job and Freyja had climbed up into the roof, and dug around the rafters, to find the sword and shield.

Remember to hold the sword tight in your right hand, Aunt Astrid had instructed Freyja. Little Freyja had held the sword as tightly as she could, but it had been heavy then (not that it wasn’t heavy now) and she’d dropped it to the dirt floor of their house. Despite her need for adventure, Freyja loved her home, which stood near Lake Svartediket, in Alrekstad, a Viking village at the foot of the Seventh Mountain in Norway. Always thrust out, away from your body. Hold the shield at your side until you need it. Do not cower behind it, Aunt Astrid would instruct her.

Her mother always looked at Aunt Astrid as if she were crazy, teaching a young child such things. You’re going to give her big ideas the world can’t possibly deliver on, her mother used to say as she sat running a needle and thread through the cloth, they made in one of the looms in town. When she wasn’t sewing or chopping vegetables or stirring the stew for supper, her mother might be mixing one of her potions that she used for healing the sick. An old man might be too weak to get out of bed or a woman, heavy with child, might be in so much pain that she screamed into the night and only Mother’s medicines helped.

Freyja stopped thrusting her sword as her twin brother, Bjorn approached. Bjorn was large, with thick shoulders and a warrior’s thin, muscled waist, though unlike Freyja he never played with his father’s sword, the one he also kept close to the roof in their small wooden house. Bjorn held a pole with a long string at the end, something he said he used to catch fish. This was just silly, catching fish with poles tied with string from the loom! Only nets caught fish in Viking villages. Once he’d tied a piece of metal to the end of the pole and caught a bunch of seaweed, but that was it. And yet, Bjorn always played with the contraptions he made, like the flat rock with a piece of metal that cast a shadow attached to it that followed the sun to tell what time of day it was. As if you didn’t know the time of day simply by looking up at the sky.

Still playing with that shield, Bjorn said as he approached. Freyja’s long white-blond hair, the same pale color as Bjorn’s, hung down her back and lifted up when she fought. The braid near the side of her face was the only part of her hair holding steady. Though they were different sexes, people said the twins looked like they could be the same person. Both were tall for their age, though Freyja was slender, even if she did have muscled arms and legs, and Bjorn was thicker, though not fat like Earl Olafur. The twins were pale, people said this came from their mother, whose face also resembled the newly full moon that burst from the sky near the end of every month. They had blue eyes and sharp, nearly angular, features; their high cheekbones, the people of the village said, came from their father.

Horick sent a message for Mother, Bjorn said to his sister as she thrust and parried at the pole like it was her mortal enemy. Earl Olafur’s wife is ill. They’re afraid she and the unborn child won’t survive the night.

Is she bringing one of her potions now? Freyja asked. Is that why she went to the village?

Don’t call them potions, you know Mother hates that. They are medicines, Freyja, medicines.

Horick is crazy, all those wild ideas. I don’t know what Earl Haakon saw in him. Freyja thrust her sword again. This time she actually hit the pole and the fence shook for a second. One of the sheep bleated and Bjorn shook his head, laughing at it.

Horick is still a wise elder, Bjorn said when his sister finally held her sword at her side. Unlike his twin sister, Bjorn liked talking with Horick, the town elder, who explained science and weather to him. They talked about how to get the plants to grow better and how to better build a house that was strong and steady. Alrekstad’s taxes were raised higher and higher every year, though Earl Olafur did little with the money to strengthen the village’s buildings and public lands or protect or care for the people. The earl’s home, however, had gotten larger, and nicer, and he and his men drank more and more often. Mother will be so upset if she sees you’ve taken the sword and shield out.

She asked me to tend the sheep, Freyja said. She knows when she gives me boring work to do, I can’t sit still.

I wanted to ask Mother about the stew tonight, I thought maybe some of my fish-

Stop it with your fish. Your fish are disgusting. We get better fish near the village, Freyja replied. If Mother is with the earl’s wife, she’s deep in the village by now.

The sheep bleated again, and Freyja leaned her sword next to the post she’d just been attacking. Are you finished with the sheep? Bjorn asked. Want to head into the village?

I’m always finished with the sheep, Freyja said. I should check to see if she’s bringing the juniper and mustard seed from the Cullens.

Did you tell her to get dill? Bjorn asked after his favorite spice. Dill would go nicely in the stew tonight.

Mother knows how to make a stew, Freyja replied and both twins laughed. Mother’s cooking was decent, but not as good as most of the other mothers in Alrekstad. She can make medicine but not a stew.

Not a good one, Bjorn said. He felt instantly bad. Mother was not the best cook, but she could do other things, like help the sick. She was able to strip the meat Father brought home and she sewed the most beautiful tunics and dresses, not just for the family but for other villagers as well.

Let’s see how Mother is doing with Helga, Freyja offered, seeing the guilt on her brother’s face. Freyja checked the fence as they moved out. She left her sword and shield out near the posts; sure, they would be safe. We’ll be back before Mother and Father.

They lived between the mountains that loomed in the distance only a mile or so away from the house and village. The house faced, Svartediket, a large mountain lake on the west side. They had to walk along the lake to get to town, since the woods between their home and the village were dense and there was no point in stumbling there when a long strip of sand and dirt near the lake was always clear. Aegir, god of the sea, made sure of it. It was a short trek into town and the twins could smell the village before they saw it. The scent of meat roasting on long spits and logs burning, of pigs in pens and chickens running around muddy side streets wafted in the air well before the sharp wooden or straw roofs of the homes and outbuildings came into view.

When they reached the village of Alrekstad, Freyja noted the men and women marching about in their summer linens, which were still dirty and a bit smelly from winter. Not everyone had had time to wash their clothes since the long, cold Norwegian solstice. Two children skipped in front of them, chasing a large brown chicken. They laughed at the twins, looking up at them and smiling. The children here could not remember Aunt Astrid, who’d left Alrekstad without many friends, and so they did not stare hard at the twins like some of the older people in town. While no one had told Aunt Astrid to leave, but Mother used to say that the people in town were not upset to see her go. Freyja had heard whispers that Mother’s entire family had a cloud over them, a cloud the town did not speak about since Father was such a respected fisherman and boat builder, and Mother had saved Gunhild, the mother of Earl Harald, who’d almost died giving birth to Earl Olafur, her second son. Gunhild had always respected and protected Aunt Astrid and Mother. That was, until the Queen died of old age a year before her husband’s demise.

The twins passed the house of Hemdal and his daughter Nadia, Freyja’s friend who sometimes helped her at the shared loom in the center of town. Nadia was a very thin girl of medium height. She ate as well as any Viking in the village, and that wasn’t well at all, but she was much thinner than most.

Freyja! Nadia called and the twins walked over to her as she swept the entrance to her family house. My father is at the public meeting. He had another meeting last night about Earl Olafur, Nadia whispered almost under her breath. Your father was there. There is talk of another meeting, maybe a whole insurrection. They cannot live under Earl Olafur’s control anymore. He charges too much in taxes and last night he beat a lame man in the street and told his drunken cronies to let him die.

Earl Olafur is awful. But Mother likes his wife and wants to save her, Freyja said. She always got nervous when there was talk of overthrowing Earl Olafur. She knew he was a terrible earl, and everyone missed his brother, Earl Harald, but at the thought of overthrowing the earl, a lump formed in her throat.

Insurrection is illogical, Bjorn said to Nadia. I hope your father is careful. With that they waved to Nadia, who returned to sweeping as they walked to the earl’s house.

Freyja made it to Helga’s first and stood at the threshold. She held onto the side of the door as Bjorn walked into the house. The earl’s young wife was lying in a bed, near the back of the room, but still in sight of the kitchen and wooden table and chairs. Helga held her bulging stomach and made aching noises as she lay in bed. It’s too much, too much, she said to Mother as the twins watched, unseen even though they were standing in the room. I can’t have this child. I wasn’t meant for children.

Oh, silly you. You’ll be fine in a few days, Mother said. Freyja watched her mother’s face. She could tell that Mother didn’t see anything wrong with the earl’s wife, she was just a little nervous about her first child. It’s only growing pains. The child is safe. I believe this will be a girl, Helga. You are a lucky, lucky woman.

How do you know it will be a girl? Helga asked. Freya saw her mother run a hand through her dark blond hair. Her mother was usually very good at predicting the sex of the babies she delivered, but she was always careful not to give away too much information. The stain of witchcraft hung over Mother’s family and so whenever she got too close to the topic, Mother stopped talking. Midwives had been able to predict the sex of babies for generations, but Mother knew to be careful with such things, lest they are considered magic.

"Everything is going to be alright, Helga. Your baby will be well. You will be well. Here, take this, it will make you better." Mother handed Helga a glass vial of one of her potions that she called medicines.

Thank you, Helga said, taking the vial. She put it to her lips and drank it down. Mother’s medicines usually worked. They helped cure the elderly of their pains and the sick of their ailments. One time, there had been a woman whose sight went blurry, who Mother cured. The woman could still see, but not well, and Mother mixed something for her that made her sight normal again. This was all a little strange, usually medicines made by other healers did not have the power to restore sight, even to someone who’d not gone stone blind, but as long as Mother’s medicines worked, the people in the village did not question her. If they ever stopped working, the twins knew to be wary, as did their parents.

The twins saw that their mother had spotted them as Helga drank her medicine down. There you are, Helga. Freyja, how are the sheep?

They’re fine, Mother, Freyja replied.

We were just wondering if you needed help with anything, Bjorn added.

Did you get the juniper and mustard seed? Freyja added. And Bjorn wants dill.

Their mother laughed. She knew as well as anyone that Freyja just wanted to get out of watching the sheep and Bjorn loved his dill. Everything is fine. I’m just going to go home and make sure those sheep are well taken care of

They are, Bjorn added. Really, Mother. They’re fine. Though he wondered if the sheep were at all traumatized by the way his twin sister had been attacking their fence with a sword.

Thank you, Bjorn, Mother said. I assume you’ve caught enough fish for dinner? Even with that silly pole and string?

I caught five fish for dinner. I could’ve caught six, but I remembered what Father said; taking too many fish could lose all the fish. Then we won’t have enough to salt for winter.

That’s silly, Helga said. "Lose all the fish. Whoever heard of saving for later when Odin will provide more. My husband, Earl Olafur, is always able to get more out of the village." The twins looked knowing at Mother. They all knew the earl’s young wife was completely oblivious to how cruel and selfish her husband could be.

Mother smiled at Helga to appease her before turning to the twins. I’m just going to stay a little while longer with the Earl’s wife.

Is that because I’m really ill? Helga asked, a little worried.

Mother turned to her and smiled soothingly. You are perfectly well, Helga, I assure you. When have I lied to an ill person? The twins watched Helga think for a second, but no one could ever accuse Mother of lying to the sick. She was always honest, even when the prognosis wasn’t good. Mother turned to the twins when Helga did not answer. Why don’t you two make sure your father’s coming back from the council meeting soon?

Yes, Mother, the twins said in unison. Helga laughed at the way the twins spoke. The twins still did things together. They took their lessons at the table, either with Mother or Father, depending on what they were studying. Father liked to talk about the history of their people. He spoke about how the Vikings had ruled this land, called Scandinavia, for hundreds of years. He talked to them about Odin, the All-Father, king of the gods, and his wife Figga, who spun the clouds each day. There was the mighty Thor, who could kill a Frost Giant with his hammer, Mjolnir, or Freyja, the goddess of love and beauty and war, who rode in a chariot pulled by giant cats. He told stories about King Ragnar Lothbrok who used to go raiding in faraway lands and his wife Aslaug, who was the daughter of the shield maiden, Brynhild. Mother liked to talk about recipes, not just for cooking, but for medicines. They both talked about sheep. Raising sheep and spinning their wool were important topics, but Father liked to talk about how to fashion metal to make weapons, while it was Mother who gave them the best pointers on how to fish in the lake near the house.

The twins were getting older, they were nearly sixteen, and they knew that they were going to stop doing everything together, like eating, playing, and hanging out with the other children from town, soon. But for now, when the twins spoke in unison, anyone within a couple of feet of them laughed. Sometimes this embarrassed the twins, but other times, they knew to just play along.

Where is Father?

My husband has called a meeting of the Council. He says the food collected isn’t enough and each farmer must give at least a tenth more, Helga said.

The harvest hasn't been enough. They say there’s a Queen up north causing the frost. The frost has been bad for our crops, but Earl Olafur isn’t helping by asking for more and more from the people. He’ll starve us all.

He may starve us all. Earl Olafur is nothing like his brother, Helga said. The twins looked at each other. They’d never heard the earl’s wife speak this way about him. Perhaps he had alienated her as well. Helga gave Mother a look like she had just made herself sick, she was so terrified. Don’t tell my husband I said that. You know how he gets when we mention his brother.

It’s all right, Helga, we all know how Earl Olafur gets Earl Harald, Odin rest his soul.

We’ll find Father at the Council. Thank you, Mother, Freyja said, as she ran off down the dirt path along the house.

Bjorn grabbed Freyja’s hand and they departed together. The twins rushed up the dirt paths, past the children, who were still playing with that large brown chicken. Bjorn the fixer, Bjorn the fixer! they cried as they tried to follow him for a few paces before he sped away. He had fixed one of their toy carts once and now they believed he could do anything. When Bjorn fixed the wheel, one of the little boys had said, You’re magic like your mother! and Bjorn had walked away quietly. He knew to be wary of such sayings.

The twins stopped dead, their faces pulled long and terrified. An old woman stood near the entrance to the meeting hall wearing a long-hooded shift that covered more of her face than usual. They’re in the mountain, the Seventh Mountain! Old Woman Yrua called, pointing to Bjorn and Freyja.

What are you talking about? Freyja asked, standing her ground in front of the old woman, who was known to shout at anyone she saw.

"Your mother knows. Her sister knows. You know!"

Stop talking about our mother, Freyja said, as Bjorn grabbed his sister’s hand to get her to go. You’re just a silly old woman! No one wants to listen to you.

In the hills, the hills. The Hidden People live in the hills. Death resides there as well. You have to watch out for her.

Death is in Valhalla, and it is glorious, Freyja retorted.

When they come out, all hope is gone. They will take from us. They take and take. They have hidden death there. There is no life when death is held captive!

Take what? Hidden People? Such a silly woman, Freyja said. She eyed Bjorn, who pulled her along, too thoughtful to engage.

She always talks. I don’t know why you bother responding, Bjorn said.

I don’t think people should get away with bothering everyone, even if they’re old and crazy.

The fact that she’s crazy means she can do whatever she wants because she’s just going to do whatever she wants anyway. There’s no point in arguing or trying to stop her. Unless you’re planning to fight her. Are you planning to fight her?

Shield maidens don’t fight old women, Freyja replied, indignant. But we shouldn’t let her get away with talking like that. Hidden People in the mountains, death held captive, what does that even mean? She’s going to scare the children!

Bjorn walked more quickly toward the entrance to the Great Hall. Inside there was a picture of Thor’s hammer Mjolnir and another image of Loki having to stand under an acid shower because he had angered the gods. Also, inside were some of the gold treasures Earl Olafur had stolen when they last raided across the sea. Father had told them all about these lands. He said that they possessed many more riches and worshipped only one god instead of many, which didn’t make sense. How could it be better to have one god when there were in fact several to choose from?

The men spoke loudly in the Great Hall, though it took a second to make out their words. The fire raged in the large, long pit. It was a great trough full of rocks and wood and fire that illuminated the faces of the men as they stood around it, gesturing wildly as if they were in an argument. Bjorn noted that though this was the Earl’s meeting hall he hadn’t bothered to show up yet. The large empty chair with wooden spikes and many furs draped over it was a reminder that the man in charge was absent.

We cannot have any more frost, Einer, one of the men who’d lived in the village for ages, said. If there is more frost, we won’t have food stored for winter.

But it won’t matter anyway, Hemdal, Freyja’s friend, Nadia’s father, said. The Earl takes and takes from us. We don’t have nearly enough livestock or crops to give him. We will all starve this winter no matter what frost comes. The earl wants too much. His brother would never have treated us this way.

We must do what we can for the earl. He’s sending us raiding next spring. We must shore up our supplies for him, even during winter. Then, when the time comes, he will give us many gifts from the raids. Torsten, Sten, Earl Olafur’s greatest advisor, looked to the twins’ father. He was a short man with a large stomach, who was always pocketing someone’s food. Do you not wish to go raiding with us next year?

You know I don’t raid, the twins' father replied.

Ah, yes, Torsten stays home with the wife and kids.

Someone needs to protect us in case there is another attack from a neighboring chieftain, Father said very calmly. We have made enemies.

It is treasonous the way he talks of enemies, as if they could harm us! To think that anyone could take us, how dare you? Sten shouted, getting into Father’s face.

I don’t think this is the time to discuss raids, not when the people are starving. It’s spring, we should have plenty of food, but there was so much tax this year and the frost…. Father started. Bjorn felt his sister’s hand in his. She gazed out at the men with her tense, shield maiden stare, as if she would grab her sword and her shield and attack them if she could.

We must bring riches back to our village! Sten called.

This is not the time, Father said.

What is it that you and that wife of yours do so far outside the Village? Why do we protect you at all when you will not live near us?

I could ask why I pay taxes to you, since I live so far away, Father said.

You could. But that would be treason. We all hear stories about that sister-in-law of yours. Odin does not approve of her and the Seidr.

Odin is said to have been a practitioner of the craft himself, Father said. But that is neither here nor there. Whatever happened with Astrid is out of my wife’s hands. And as for us, you know very well all my wife does is help those who are sick, including the Earl's wife, whom she is with right now. Where is the Earl anyway?

The Earl is working or resting. It’s none of your concern. Sten nearly spat at Father.

The sheep! Freyja cried out, looking at Bjorn. I left my sword out! Mother will find it!

No, wait, don’t just— Bjorn called, trying to catch his sister before she dashed off.

Come on, let’s go. We have to go back to the sheep, before Mother finds my sword, Freyja cried. With that she dashed away, running on lithe feet through the village. She rushed away from the children, who were still playing with that chicken, and back to the path near the lake that would lead them home.

Chapter Two

Freyja rushed back to the house. She stopped at the sheep pen where the unconcerned animals still bleated away. Be careful there, Bjorn called as Freyja opened the pen. Don’t let Steg out. She grabbed the sword and shield that had both fallen over near a wooden post. She carefully lugged the shield into the house first.

Watch for Mother, Freyja called back to her brother, who stayed behind to close the pen. Steg, the oldest and largest sheep, was still bleating when she reached the rickety wooden ladder Father had made with the branches of a tree that came down in a storm. It was a young tree, so the branches weren’t that thick, but they had been sturdy enough to fashion a ladder with thick twine. Father was very particular about the wood they used. He only let them chop down certain trees and he only collected branches for kindling that had come from the ground. It is best to work with nature, he always said.

The shield fell twice, clanging to the dirt floor, as Freya tried to put it back in the rafters. After she finally succeeded, she stuck her head out the front door to grab her sword and look around for Mother. She isn’t here? she asked Bjorn, who was sitting on a pile of hay fitting together two pieces of metal he’d gotten from Father a few weeks ago. He was trying to fashion something new for holding fire in the house, but as of yet, the stone hearth worked fine

I’ll tell you when she comes. I won’t let her surprise you. We’re twins. I’m not going to leave you to get in trouble.

Freyja made a grateful face at her brother as she grabbed the sword and pivoted to put it back in the rafters. It took a little while to get the shield and the sword in place, but once the sword was in the rafters, Freyja saw that neither instrument was in the right place. In fact, they’d be easy to knock down, but Mother never checked the ceiling that often.

Freyja finished just in time to scurry outside to greet Mother as she marched up the path along the lake. She carried a large basket with all her herbs in it. Mother looked tired. Whenever she was called on to heal Mother returned home looking like a whole year of sleep had been taken from her face. Especially when she healed the Earl’s wife, who was never really sick, but was always nervous.

Freyja rushed back inside and grabbed the black iron cauldron they used to make stew. She knew that even though Bjorn had caught fish today, there was meat left over from a deer Father had slaughtered out in the woods two nights ago and they needed to finish it before it went sour. It had already been striped and cooked so the meat, seasoned with herbs from Father’s garden and a few berries from the woods, would stay good for a few days, but it would need to be heated in the cauldron if it was to be truly delicious for supper. The seasonings always tasted better after a couple of days of cooking. The heat, Mother said, found more flavors as the days wore on.

I see you’re helping, Mother said as she walked in the door, looking around the two-room house as if she’d never seen it before. Thank you, Freyja. Can you start the fire, or do you need your brother’s help?

He’s better at it.

You can’t just do the things you’re good at, Freyja. We have to work together. Setting the fire is important.

I know, but if he could show me how to use the flint.

Go get him, Mother said. I need to rest my eyes. The Earl’s wife is doing fine, but something happened when I left her. She asked me not to go. She grabbed my arm and told me that she didn’t want to be alone tonight.

She won’t be alone. Doesn’t she have the Earl?

That’s why it was strange. The fear on her face was like someone was going to attack her. But when I left her, she seemed fine. She’s resting and the baby will come along very soon. She’s a healthy woman, no matter what she says.

You’ll have to help deliver, right?

It’s an honor, helping the Earl and his family, Mother said like she didn’t mean it. Her long, dark blond hair fell into her face, and she pushed it back. In the sweep of her arm Freyja could see her mother’s exhaustion. And Helga is a good woman. The Earl may be strict when it comes to taxes, especially after this frost, but Helga has always been kind.

I know. I’ll get Bjorn to help me with the fire. Then I’ll put the stew on. Supper will be ready in a couple of hours.

Thank you, Freyja, Mother said. Then she sat on her bed, which was a large wooden box full of animal’s skins and thick wool blankets. I’ll just be a minute.

You rest, Freyja said, turning from the sleeping part of their house.

Freyja rushed out and back to her brother, who was now making markings in the dirt. The two pieces of metal he’d been playing with lay nearby. I need you to help me make the fire, she announced.

You know how to use the flint. I don’t think it helps, my doing it all the time. Sometimes I’m not going to be with you, Freyja. You’ll have a family of your own.

And I’ll still have my twin brother to call on. You’re not going anywhere, Bjorn. At that her brother set the pieces of metal down and made sure not to step on the markings he’d made in the dirt. What are you calculating?

I know metal burns just after it turns from the red heat to the blue glowing heat.

Any blacksmith will tell you that.

So, I think if I burn it at just a little bit less than blue, I’ll be able to mold the metal into something that’ll hold a fire up, maybe get a stick and burn wood straight up instead of piled together.

The way we use fire is fine, there is no reason to change it.

I hate those winters when it’s pitch black for weeks on end. We can’t do anything. We might as well sleep all the time like the bears, but what if we had something to hold the fire? Maybe we’d have more light.

Why don’t you come up with a way to make us sleep all winter? I’d love that, waking up in the spring when everything is fresh and clean like the bears that hibernate.

You know things don’t work that way, Bjorn said as they left the markings and entered the house. Bjorn looked over at the bed to find Mother resting there. He lowered his voice. I hope she’s okay. I don’t like what some of those potions do to her. They take so much out of her

Don’t talk like that, Freyja hissed back. She makes medicines, not potions. You know we’re not supposed to talk about them, not even at home.

Only because the Earl doesn’t like magic.

Magic isn’t real. Good magic anyway. Bad magic is real, that’s true. But Mother and Father aren’t that.

Here, Bjorn said, grabbing the flint from a wooden shelf. He pushed the striker over the stone until sparks started to fly toward the wood piled in the center of the fireplace. He crouched closer to the ground, where the glowing, still smoldering embers from the last fire gave off just enough heat to start a fire. When there were embers, the fire was much easier to light. Sometimes, especially in the winter or when the wood got wet, they had to start a fire from scratch, with no burning embers. It could take twenty minutes to light a single fire then. I don’t know why you won’t just try. It’s easy when the embers are like this. They’re practically on fire already.

I always mess it up, Freyja said.

You wouldn’t if you tried, shield maiden. You can fight but you won’t start a fire, Bjorn said. Are you still watching the sheep?

No, I’m going to help with dinner. You go back to that metal thing.

I’m not making it yet, I’m planning. I have to get the numbers right, Bjorn said, pulling a hand through his thick blond hair that was sheared in the back like all the Viking men, except men like Father, who wore his hair long.

Freyja helped get the meat stew ready as Mother slept. They’d salt the fish Bjorn caught and save it for tomorrow. Mother seemed more worn out than usual and Freyja didn’t want to bother her. She looked longingly at the rafters, where her shield and sword were still hidden. Usually, the sword and shield were kept closer to the back of the house, in the rafters but away from people, in case they fell. Freyja hadn’t had time to get them back there before Mother returned and so she’d have to glance up all during supper to make sure neither weapon fell while they were eating. That would make a certain mess.

Father stayed in the Village most of the day while the twins waited for supper to finish cooking. Timing never mattered, as long as the food was hot. It took a lot to thoroughly burn the meat stew