Iced Earth

By Samantha Grey

Part 1 of an epic tale following Hannah, a Viking Shieldmaiden discovering her destiny. She struggles through immense odds thrown at her from all sides including the frozen Scania landscape, warring tribes and the ever obscure Gods themselves. Hannah is found by sweet old Adrianna in the forest. She suffers post traumatic stress disorder and amnesia. She is swept along through slavery, love, loss, war and hope and through it all she finds the light within her and shines brighter than she could ever imagine possible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Samantha Grey
• Release date: Feb 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215588369

Samantha Grey

Born 8 March 1984, in Pietermaritzburg, South Africa and still there, I enjoy baking, writing, music, art and animals.I own, or rather am owned by, 4 cats, 2 dogs, 1 budgie, 1 tarantula and a plethora of mice who take up a large majority of my time. They say pet owners live longer, perhaps it just feels that way.I play guitar and keyboard although not very well. I have played and sung on stage, at local concerts and in church.I live with my mother and my brother and together we bake novelty cakes such as birthday cakes and wedding cakes incorporating two of my favourite things; art and sweets.I have been writing from the moment I could hold a pen and it has always been a dream to turn a hobby into a career. My first poem at the age of 6 was entitled "There once was a man called Fred." It was well received at a school talent show, however my public speaking has much to be desired. Since then my passion for writing has flourished and I have written much although published very little. This will change.Samantha Grey - 2023

Book preview

ICed Earth

Samantha Grey

Copyright

Iced Earth

Samantha Grey

Copyright Samantha Grey 2023

Published at Smashwords

1st Edition

ISBN 9798215588369

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without prior approval of the author. For permission to use contact Samantha Grey by email at [e-mail]

The sun, the sister of the moon, from the south

Her right hand cast over heaven's horses;

No knowledge she had where her home should be,

The moon knew not what might was his.

The stars knew not where their stations were.

Vӧluspá: The Vala’s Prophecy; 5, The Poetic Edda

Prologue

Blackness.

The first thing she was aware of was the callused kiss of frozen earth against her face, the crunch of icy sand clawing at her cheek. Heaviness pressed against her back, driving the wind from her lungs and hammering her face against the rocky soil again and again until her cheeks were raw and bloody. Gasping for air, blackness closed in around her once more.

Sharp bolts of pain exploded between her thighs and forced her from the bliss of oblivion and she was wrenched panting to consciousness. All that existed was the molten white agony, driven deep within her body. She tried to scream but a hand was clasped over her face. It was a filthy hand and stank of rotting flesh and she heard the harsh sounds of grunting, hot stinking breath on the back of her neck.

Shut up, you whore! You want the others to hear you crying like a baby? They’ll all be up here for a taste, slut!

The voice was gritty with lust and punctuated by vicious groans. Flecks of spittle dotted her cheek. Bile rose to her throat and she choked, as the realisation of what was happening hit her. Pure fear drove the pain away. She struggled, kicking and clawing at the cold ground, but it yielded no grip. It was hopeless.

I’m almost there, be still or I will slice your pretty throat, he pressed harder on her face, smothering her and pounded faster, tearing the tender flesh mercilessly. She felt the trickle of sticky blood down the inside of her thigh and gurgled a hopeless scream.

She was pinned to the unforgiving earth and losing consciousness again when the frigid air was sliced by a sound she could only describe as an arrow leaving a bowstring followed almost instantly by a sickening thud.

The pressure on her back jerked and was still, the dirty hand fell away to clutch spasmodically at the frozen earth and then ceased. Silence settled over the clearing.

She glimpsed pale leather boots approaching, crunching over the snowy gravel before she sighed and slipped into blessed nothingness once more.

Adrianna muttered to herself as she sheathed her bow and kicked the dirty corpse off the girl.

What’s this? she murmured. Oh, dear. Such a waste.

Her eyes quickly scanned the broken girl, smeared in blood she made a remarkably vivid contrast against the white and grey snow covered landscape around her.

Her whole life Adrianna had spent in this ruthless wilderness, so many winters she had lost count ages ago. She had worked her fingers to the bone to coax some semblance of life from the frozen earth, constantly beating back the cold and the ice just to survive, and for her efforts had still been forced to consign two children to the flames of the funeral pyre. With all the hardness and calluses life had thrown her, she surprised herself with pity for this little naked wretched girl, this wasted life.

Adrianna sighed. She went to frisk the dead bandit, filching a small purse of silver coins, a thick cow-hide belt from around his ankles and a pair of ratty leather boots. The rest of his attire was not worth salvage. She then retrieved her arrow, keeping an eye and an ear on the woods around her for any signs of the bandit’s friends. As she slowly teased the iron tip from where it had lodged in the marauders head, she heard the girl whimper.

Blessed be! she exclaimed, rushing back to the prone child. Appearances can be deceiving after all! Well, Odin preserve us, the girl breathes. All that blood! I would have thought not a drop left in her, sweet child…

She carried on chattering away as she wrapped the unconscious girl in her leather coat with the care only a gentle woman can give a child and lifted her over her shoulder as if she weighed nothing.

Daft, Adrianna, you are daft. Why do you now think to check the child’s vitals? Pulse weak, but present, breath shallow, but alive! She is alive, you daft old woman.

She cleaned the arrow on a bundle of pine needles, re-quivered it, readjusted her herb purses and more tightly secured the mushroom pouches to her belt before purposefully marching into the snowy gloom of the tundra forest.

The fire crackled merrily in the stone fireplace. Hannah woke quietly, unaware of anything but warmth. She instinctively knew that to keep warm, all she had to do was not remember. Remember what? Icy tendrils crept through her heart. Her name. Just remember her name. My name is Hannah, she thought. It filled her mind, pushing the darkness and pain back into the recesses, the cold black corners of her soul.

The panic receded.

My name is Hannah.

The warmth stayed and glowed within her, cuddling her tight within its soft, pain-free embrace.

My name is…

She drifted off to dreamless sleep again.

Chapter 1

Adrianna hummed a raunchy pub ditty to herself as she perched on a small wooden stool by the fire casually stirring the mushroom soup. It would have been a stew were it only her to feed but with the extra mouth she had decided to extend it with some rabbit meat stock and a few shrivelled white carrots.

When she had returned to her wooden cabin hours before, she had cleaned the girl up with fire-warmed water as best she could, patched the worst of her, including a nasty gash on the side of her head, with some dried meadowsweet poultices, and tucked her into the only bed in the little single-roomed house, wrapping her snugly in her best bear pelt. She had noticed the softness of the girl’s hands and lack of calluses on the girl’s feet. This child could only be of noble birth to lack the trademarks of working the harsh land of the arctic tundra.

She guessed the child couldn’t have seen more that fifteen winters, remarkably pretty with waist-length pitch black hair, dishevelled and matted with blood now and pale ivory skin, where it could be seen between the angry scratches and purpling bruises. She also suffered marks of malnutrition, her fine cheekbones were too prominent and her long-lashed eyes too sunken although she seemed somewhat healthy still being in possession of all her teeth. She was Nordic certainly although the dark hair was unusual.

The girl hadn’t stirred throughout the administrations despite meadowsweet having a reputation of stinging open wounds.

Now Adrianna sat and waited, hoping that the hearty warm smell of seasoned forest mushrooms bubbling gently in the small cast-iron three-legged pot would bring her around.

Big bosoms fair, she sang quietly, sitting on your chair. Lady come home with me, I promise we’ll make quite the pair. And in the morn I’ll have you back, safe and sound in your husband’s lap.

Hannah! the girl screamed herself awake, the shrill, fear-sodden screech shattering the quiet of the cabin. Adrianna started with alarm nearly overturning the fat-bellied pot and hastened to the bedside to calm the distraught girl.

Easy, easy, there child! Quiet now, calm yourself.

She took the panting, shaking wild-eyed girl in her arms and held her tight. Hannah sobbed in panic and trembled uncontrollably, clawing at the furs tucked around her and gasping painfully for air. She seemed unaware of Adrianna’s presence or concerns as if she were unable to escape the nightmare that had woken her. She pushed aside Adrianna’s reaching hands but the old woman would not be deterred and pinned the girls fluttering limbs with an ease that bespoke wiry strength. She held her that way until the struggling child tired and sagged, sobbing into Adrianna’s arms.

You’re safe here, dear. No-one will harm you. Adrianna cooed and muttered gently in her soft sing-song voice, rocking the terrified child and stroking her raven hair until Hannah’s breathing finally eased and she quieted into trembling sobs.

There, there. There’s a good girl. Adrianna pulled away to meet Hannah’s eye. She was struck by the exquisite colour; brilliant pools of icy blue as if they had been painted with the same brush as the giant glaciers that rumbled slowly over the earth. It confirmed to Adrianna the child’s Nordic heritage. But there was also fear in these eyes. It spoke in dark circles and red tinged rims. Fear… and pain. Adrianna tutted gently and wiped the tears coursing down her cheeks. The girl didn’t mind the salty liquid streaming down her face although it must be burning her injured cheeks now that the medicinal poultices Adrianna had wrapped there had dislodged with the frightened girl’s struggling. She stared at the old woman, a shuttered mask of pure distrust.

Are you hungry sweet girl? You must be famished! Why, you look as though you’ve barely eaten more than a sparrows share your entire life.

Hannah flinched at the kindly old voice and shook her head, emphatically rejecting the offer.

Come now, how do you expect to heal if you don’t give your body something to heal with? This here is my favourite meal. Adrianna moved to the pot and spooned some of the steaming chunky liquid into a wooden bowl, saying proudly, Hearty Brunsopp mushroom and carrot broth, seasoned with centaury root to strengthen the heart, banish chill and fever and summon sleep, and burdock leaf to thicken the blood and ease pain. You must eat. You barely have any meat on your bones as it is. Don’t think you will be leaving Adrianna’s cabin looking like a half-starved sewer rat. My, my, what would the neighbours say? If I had any neighbours. Why, they’d be up in arms at how poorly I feed you. ‘Takes a child in?’ they’d say, ‘and promptly starves her!’ Pfft! Adrianna continued almost to herself now, Odin help me, I can’t abide by nosey neighbours and their snotty ways. She waved a dismissing hand in the air. But you must eat dear, put some muscle on those scrawny bones. Firewood will run low before winter is in full bloom. How do you expect to chop wood with arms like toothpicks, I ask you? Adrianna squeezed Hannah’s slim shoulder and smiled reassuringly at the girl, offering her the hot bowl.

Adrianna’s pleasant but longwinded monologue soothed Hannah’s distress, but confusion and bewilderment blanketed her pretty albeit bruised features. She was afraid. Of what, she didn’t know. But she struggled with herself to trust this seemingly kind old stranger. Her stomach was a solid ball of rock and the dull ache of betrayal in her abdomen begged she bolt for the door. She had been so hurt although at this point in time she refused to acknowledge neither the details nor the extent of the hurt, but she was loath to place her trust in anyone else lest she be hurt again. She wanted nothing more than to flee the intensely kind gaze of this sinewy old woman and hide in the dark somewhere to die alone.

Suddenly the ball of lead that was her stomach uncoiled like a great serpent and roared into ravenous life. Her traitorous stomach growled as if in protest of the thoughts of abandoning the food. It echoed loudly in the quiet confines of the cabin and the grizzled old woman giggled and offered the bowl more insistently. Hannah gave in and took the bowl, scalding her tongue in the haste to spoon the hot fluid down her throat. Hannah almost melted with pleasure. The rich earthy flavours of mushrooms tinged with the centaury root bitterness and supplemented with the meaty sweetness of carrots filled her nostrils and made her taste buds sing. She ate with gusto, pain and fear forgotten.

Slowly child! Mercy, I didn’t scrounge my knuckles raw for that soup just so that you would choke on it. What a waste that would be! Of food and girl! Adrianna admonished with a smile in her eyes. Once she was satisfied that her charge was eating at a comfortable pace and wasn’t going to choke or vomit or do anything else unsavoury, she busied herself with her herbs.

Found you in the forest, I did. Adrianna responded to the unasked question in Hannah’s eye, while she selected some mysterious smoky jars from a high shelf. She saw the panic creep over the girl. Her small frame began to tremble again as memory of the vicious attack returned. With gut-wrenching horror, Hannah abruptly understood the pain in her abdomen and what had caused it.

Adrianna smiled kindly. Don’t worry, my dear, she purred. That dirty mongrel is dead.

Hannah ate a little more slowly, digesting this piece of information. She was not as horrified, she suddenly realised, as she should have been. Using remarkable acuity she chalked her numbness to shock and not a little to the effects of the herbal ministrations of the old woman. With grateful ease she tucked away the pain for another day.

Now where in the nine worlds did I put my mortar and pestle? Adrianna tutted.

She rummaged around near the back of the cabin where baskets and buckets and an assortment of other dark shapes sat in the gloom and accumulated dust.

Ahah! the wiry old woman exclaimed from the darkness. She returned triumphant dusting cobwebs from her stringy grey hair and waving the offending items in the air.

She began to hum cheerfully as she took spoonfuls of the dried herbs from the jars, and plucking a few leaves from bundles of herbs hanging from nails in neat rows along the wall, she began to pound and grind them into dust expertly in her mortar. Obvious to Hannah this was a well-practiced art.

Adrianna then added a little clean boiling water from another small pot sharing the fire with the stew and mixed until she was satisfied with the consistency before pouring the concoction into a tin mug and placing it down on a wooden table.

Now we leave that to steep a little.

Wiping her hands, she turned to Hannah, How’s the soup, dear?

Hannah started having been caught with a mouth full of mushroom and managed only an emphatic nod and some appreciative noises.

That is good. ‘Twas my great grandmamma who taught me the ways of herbs, Freyja rest her soul. Roots and leaves and flowers and seeds all hold amazing magic in them. Even the wings of flying creatures or the scales of snapping fish have this magic. Magic to heal or to hurt, to make something grow or wither, to summon butterflies or expel fleas, to help a suffering man sleep or keep a watchman awake. Adrianna collected Hannah’s empty bowl and refilled it, now exhausting the contents of the pot. She handed the bowl to Hannah who accepted it with a grateful smile.

Winter is nearly upon us. Snow blizzards are on the breeze, I can smell it. ‘Tis a fortnights journey to the nearest town of Glacier’s Rest. A journey we will not make before the snows block the Jerall Mountain pass. You are welcome to share my cottage for the winter, and perhaps in the cold dark hours I will teach you the ways of the herbs as my grandmamma taught me. ‘Twould certainly stave off the wearisome boredom of a winter spent alone. You would think one would become use to it after all these winters. But ‘twould make an old heart sing to have some company through the long icy months ahead.

Adrianna opened the cabin door and frigid cold wind whipped gusts of white powdery snow through the crack making Hannah shiver under her furs. The old woman packed some snow into the now empty cast iron pot, and began to scrub it with a bunch of pine needles. She paused and looked intensely at Hannah.

I have enough stocks frozen in the earth basement to tide my livestock and I through and we have perhaps six days to gather enough if you are to survive too. ‘We must eat comfortably and have enough wood to keep the fire going throughout to stave off sickness.

Adrianna finished cleaning the pot and after storing it, she retrieved the now cooled herbal tea and brought it over to the cot. Hannah sniffed it experimentally and grimaced.

Well, what do you expect? Milk and honey? Adrianna laughed warmly. It’s bogbean tea. It helps torn muscles knit themselves together, heart and body. As Adrianna talked, Hannah reluctantly gulped down the bitter tea as quickly as she could and yawned enormously, a full stomach and the effects of the centaury root calling her back to blissful sleep.

Before you sleep, dear, let’s have a look at those poultices, hmm?

Adrianna had already prepared some replacement meadowsweet poultices. She gently but swiftly changed the soiled, bloodied dressings, nimble fingers expertly bathing the wounds with some warm, sweet-smelling water. She chirped happily that no sign of infection was present, no excessive swelling or inflammation. Hannah flinched slightly when the fresh dressings were applied but was too deep in centaury root fog to feel much.

After a good night’s sleep and when the morning comes, you will be as good as new. You will need to be strong, child. You must draw strength from wherever you can. You are going to need to be stronger than you have ever imagined possible. She rose and moved off, whispering, You will need it, with the trials ahead. Or perhaps Hannah imagined those last words.

Hannah slept to spider web strands of Big bosoms fair echoing through her head.

Chapter 2

The watery winter sun glowed half-heartedly over the frosty Scandinavian mountains. Hannah felt extraordinarily refreshed upon waking and eagerly tucked into the small breakfast of raw chicken eggs, dried fruit and handfuls of last winter’s pecan nuts. After assisting Adrianna with seeing to the single goat, solitary horse and trio of chickens that Adrianna owned, Hannah was tasked with firstly collecting some fresh clean snow to melt by the fire and then chopping wood while Adrianna donned her bow and left to hunt the forests for any animal or bird that had not yet migrated to warmer climes for the winter. Perhaps her luck would yield a hibernating hare or squirrel fattened with autumn fare to sleep out the long winter.

Hannah found the snow collecting fair going and was done in a matter of minutes. Then she tackled the woodcutting. Her