Skuld decides to take one of the newly vacant homes that wasn't destroyed as her new base of operations, and some of her things are brought in by a clansmen. Bronze bowls that appear to be for mixing potions or elixirs, animal skin pouches of various ingredients and talismans, and a few extra furs that have been laid out here and there. I can't help but wonder who's home this really is, if they are still alive, and if they realize that someone is just taking it over like this.
Sorcha, Iona, myself and the rest of the young girls watch in bewilderment as Skuld rummages through her bowls and pouches, muttering to herself while grabbing a handful of seeds here, or uncorking a skin of a fowl smelling, fermented goo there and dumping it into a bowl. A few of the girls have been put to work, feeding more wood into the fire, sweeping the hard, packed dirt floor and helping Skuld organize her wares. A fire blazes from a fireplace in the center of the home, and outside the sun is starting to descend closer to the horizon as evening approaches. Cluck Norris is waddling around near our feet, not the slightest bit concerned about the preparations taking place and what that might mean for him.
"Is she mak'n a potion?" Sorcha whispers to us. I rise an eyebrow and shrug, but Iona nods.
"Whatever it is, it smells terrible," I say.
"Well, unfortunately for you little flame, you are the one drinking it," Skuld shoots at me from the other side of the fire. Oh, hell no.
"I'm good, thanks," I say with an awkward smile.
Skuld gives me that slow, unnerving grin she's fond of, exposing her teeth and looking at me above the flames with wild eyes as she drops in another ingredient into the bowl. Munnin croaks and flaps his wings from his perch in the rafters.
"Do you think I am not aware of your injuries?" The cuts on my knees and hands? The endless bruises coating my body from that roll down the hill? They aren't that bad...but...I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little bit worried about getting an infection in a world without penicillin. "It is a potion for healing Beatrix. Come now, you must learn to trust me sooner or later," she waves a finger in my direction before grabbing a pestle and mixing the concoction together. She pours water from a skin into the mixture, then continues to press in the pestle, and repeats this process a few times.
I literally just met you today, I want to retort, but I hold my tongue. Skuld is probably the closest thing to a pharmacist in this world, and she seems to genuinely care about my future, for some reason. Also, the fact that she noticed I was hurt and cared enough to do something about it touches me. Maybe this world isn't so bad. A bit rough around the edges for sure, but there is some good here, somewhere. I know it.
Once satisfied with her mixing, Skuld comes around the fire and approaches me with the bowl.
"Drink," she says, holding the bowl out to me. I eye it for a few moments, but then decide, fuck it, and toss it back. It definitely tastes worse than it smells, and it takes me everything not to gag as the chunky mixture rolls down my throat. I blink a few times as my eyes water, but I manage to keep it down.
"Good, now we prepare for the Blót."
"The what?" I croak, even though I know that blót means sacrifice. Run, Cluck Norris! I try to subtly nudge him with my boot to the doorway, but it does no good as he wanders further into the home. I sigh.
"The ceremony. In a few days time, we will present an offering to Odin for Vernal..."Vernal, or Spring, "and I will consult with the gods once again about your future, as well as our Jarl's to ensure his success in his...endeavors." Wait, Frode? What do I have to do with him?
"Whatever yeh need us to do, we shall do it, mistress Skuld. Where shou' we start first?" Iona asks. Trying to stay on her good side, not a bad idea.
Skuld grins at her. "We'll need at least one horse the clan can part with, bowls, a ceremonial branch, and a feast must be prepared. But first, I shall teach you the ritual song."
We spend the next hour or so learning a chant that is hauntingly beautiful, the pitch rising and falling with an airy tone, calling on the wisdom of the gods to guide us towards insight of the future. Once we get the melody and the words, Skuld pulls out a drum and mallet made out of wood and animal skin and beats a steady rhythm that almost mimics a heartbeat, pacing back and forth in front of us. Then, she hands the drum to Iona and shows her how to replicate it before circling the fire and conducting us with her hands. We sing and sing until the song vibrates through our bodies and it no longer feels like music anymore, but part of our souls.
Our voices are starting to get hoarse when Torsten ducks his head in to the home, and nods to Skuld.
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"Seeress. I'm here for the lass. Can yeh part w' her now?" He says, looking at me. I look outside behind him and note that it's close to sunset.
"I suppose," Skuld answers begrudgingly.
I get up from the fur I was sitting on on the floor, and note that my body isn't as stiff and sore as it was earlier. Curious, I glance down at my hands and see that the cuts on them from my falls yesterday have mostly healed. What the?! My gaze snaps to Skuld, who plops down on a fur next to the fire winks at me.
"I will see you tomorrow, little flame," she calls out as her eyes glitter from across the flames. I nod back, and offer a smile to Iona and Sorcha before heading out the door with Torsten. "Now...I suppose it is time for our night meal. Where did that chicken get off to..."
Moments later I'm back in the Tavern, and it's packed with clansmen and women. More tables have been dragged together to form one long table down the center of the room and it's overflowing with plates of roasted fish, fresh apples, pears and plums, barley and plenty of wooden tankards of mead. Despite the impressive spread, I'd rather be dining with Skuld and the girls. My stomach does a flip when I notice there's one empty seat and of course it's right next to Frode, who sits at the head of the table. Great. He grins at me as I enter, and raises his tankard in greeting.
I take the seat next to him, while Torsten wedges himself into a space further along the table, jumping into a conversation with his neighbors.
"Torsten tells me Skuld has been keeping you busy," Frode says as he pours me a wooden tankard of mead. I nod and pull a wooden plate of fish towards me and scoop some barley with a spoon made out of a carved antler. I look around, and see that the clansmen and women are mostly eating with their hands, though some are using knives and the antler spoons to pick up food. I mimic them with the carved antler spoon to eat the barley, and eat the fish with my hands. It's a white fish similar to cod, and it's flavored with butter and spices. It melts in my mouth.
"We're preparing for...the Blót," I say after swallowing. Frode swishes his tankard of mead, and studies me.
"Has she prepared you for what will happen?"
"This is all...very new to me," I say honestly. "I know that we are making an offering to Odin and that she needs to see our futures again, I just don't really get what any of this has to do with me," I shrug.
Frode snorts and takes a swig of mead, but he eyes everyone around us quickly, as if gauging to see if anyone is listening. But everyone else is loudly conversing with their neighbor, eating or getting drunk on mead.
"Skuld foresaw...our meeting," he finally says. Of me in a heap at the bottom of that hill? "She said I would meet a woman of fire, bright as the flaming color of her hair. A fire that dances and spreads, and moulds the world around her with flame. A fire...I wouldn't be able to turn away from," he finishes as that smirk returns.
Again, I start to doubt the accuracy of Skuld's prophetic claims, and am about to say so when a clanswoman comes by carrying a plate of more roasted fish, and drops it abruptly on the table before disappearing again. So..they do cook their own food. I expected they would force some of the thralls to do the cooking, but maybe they were forced to help and I just haven't seen them yet.
"You don't seem to think much of her prophecy," Frode observes, interrupting me from my thoughts.
"I didn't have much of a flaming spirit where I came from," I say, thinking back to the constant dread I felt before going into work every day. The frustration of not being able to convince my boss that I had value at our company, or even getting him to listen to me for that matter.
"Otherworlder," Frode says, looking at me in a way I could only describe as hunger, but it feels more like eager curiosity than something sinister. He leans in closer to me and raises his eyebrows. "What was your other world like?"
I hesitate, trying to find a way to explain it in a way someone from this world would understand. "My world was...full of people, crowded cities and bright lights that were not flames or stars. It was.. advanced in knowledge and constantly finding ways to make things better and faster. Things like curing illnesses, traveling from one place in the world to another in remarkable speeds, harnessing sunlight and water from rivers to make energy and contraptions that work on their own..." Frodes eyes widen at that. I shrug. "But despite all that, there was still war always going on somewhere. People killing other people and taking things from one another, doing horrific things. I guess in a way that doesn't change from world to world," I say, looking back at him.
"And do you mean to change that, fiery one?" Frode tilts his head and places his chin on his hand, seemingly enjoying this conversation and missing the dig.
I bristle. "I'm just one person. I obviously have no leverage here." I look Frode square in the eyes. "But I don't condone the things I saw today. And if I can find a way to help those people, I will." Frode blinks, and looks at me like he's never seen me before.
"Hmmm..I think I may have just seen your first spark."
I say nothing, and we return to eating our meals.
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After the evening meal, clansmen and women rearrange the benches and chairs around a fire pit and a few of them go to sleep then and there, some of them sitting up. The sun has set outside and it's now dark.
"Come," Frode says as he stands and my stomach drops. How the fuck am I going to escape if they are all sleeping right here in the main room?
I slowly stand to follow him, and with every step I take the more I realize how I've run out of options. Maybe I can catch him off guard when we are in the room and do a sleeper choke hold, then try to tip toe out later when everyone's asleep? But what if someone stays up to keep guard?
We step into a room that has 2 raised wooden beds filled with straw and generous amounts of furs draped over them. Frode motions toward them with his hand.
"Choose which one you want, fiery one, and I wouldn't recommend running off. Though I'm sure my men would love to find you alone in the middle of the night, you will not like the result."
Oh.
Wait. He's...sharing a room with me...to protect me?
Well that's unexpected, given all the things I witnessed today.