The Incursion Of The Nøkken

Chapter Two, The Birth of Their Death

Tara was the woman's name. She had revealed a quite bold personality to Frida, she seemed to be the type of person who could influence and destroy with just the wink of the eye, and the curve of the lips. Frida and her father followed Tara into the chieftains quarters, simultaneously watching over Klog and his cat.
"I haven't got all night woman, say what you wish to say already," mumbled Arnhaldr. Tara crouched onto the wooden floor, and began to stroke the sweaty palms of Frida's father.
"You must not rush the tides of life, my lord." Retorted Tara. "For it will only attract the vessels of death to our lands!"
"My land," argued Frida's father. Frida sat on a stool, counting the brown spots on the white dropped cowhide. Tara began to laugh hysterically, "Your land, my land, his land!" Tara replied as she waved her fingers at the ceiling, "What difference does it make?" She added.
Tara produced a stone bowl with jagged edges, containing a mixture of spices and herbs. Tara reached underneath Arnhaldr's chair grabbing a petite pitcher of water.
"W-what are you doing?" Questioned Arnhaldr as he tried to stay in his chair.
"You'll see."
Frida leaned closer to her father as Tara began to pour the rest of the water into the bowl: Tara, with the tip of her thumb created a dimple in the mixture. The wise woman folded her hands around the bowl and began breathing into it, "Guld og sølv, sand en jord! Samle stykker af vores! Træ." Tara chanted. She then poured the remains down her throat, shaking her head wildly.
The cowhide began to retire back to the floor, as Frida observed Tara with large eyes, "Why did you do that?" asked Frida.
Tara threw the empty bowl past her shoulder "So that I can show you the unseen of course," answered a dizzy völva. "Chief, I've dreamed many dreams of a great battle that will occur right here in the grounds of Hinbjerg. I see hundreds of men and women, dressed in armor with torches. . . So many torches." Tara's childish behavior had exfoliated into a character of sadness. She grasped the lines of her forehead with several fingers, stroking them down to the end of her chin.
Arnhaldr inserted his hands through the opening of his tunic, pulling out a small scroll with runes written on the ends. The chieftain pressed his hands against the paper examining his schedule closely, "No, you're wrong. I have not planned any raids this season, Hinbjerg is roughly a difficult village to cast assault on regardless. . . When will this happen again, wise one?"
Tara looked up from her palms, glancing at Arnhaldr closely with her sea-green eyes, "This is happening, now!" Bellowed Tara. "I do not have the ability to see the future, nor the past. This is the present Arnhaldr, this is fate."
Frida attempted to soften the darkening mood, "Do you know where this assault is being planned?" Asked a concerned Frida.
Tara pressed her palm against her eyelids, pressing for more information, " I see a sign. Literally. I believe it says Sigtuna on it, the village is premature; construction is present in all directions. Regardless of the youth of this town, it still has an assembly of ships Frida, and lots of warriors."
Arnhaldr trembled as he lifted himself from his chair, reaching for the nearest wall. "Then it's settled, we shall take up course and bring the fight to them. Tomorrow, when the sun rises Frida will find our ship master and we will assemble many boats," promised Arnhaldr as he rushed to Tara's side. "And we shall conquer."
Frida awoke to the rapping of her door, "Yes?" Asked Frida holding her door open with the sides of her left foot. Erik had appeared in the doorway struggling to catch his breath.
Erik, still wearing his night shirt put his hands on his hips looking at Frida excitedly in the eye, "Its, it's. . . Er, look for yourself!" Cried Erik as he stepped outside of the doorway, allowing Frida to step outside. Frida covered her eyes as the sky repeatedly attempted to strangle them. Above her cabin and the rest of Hinbjerg, flown a sea of illuminating purple and green. Frida was amazed at how elegant the lights moved across the mountains and into the east, it was like watching a hypnotic stream of sea serpents.
"The lights do not travel this south of Scandinavia, it must be an omen of some sort. A message." Erik told Frida in awe.
Frida noticed that more and more villagers left the warmth of their homes to see the lights of the north. All except Tara, who gazed only for a few moments before retreating to her sleep.
Erik cautiously nudged Frida's shoulder, "Well? You haven't said a word. . . Are you ill?" Questioned the fisherman's son. Frida relaxed from the view of the night's sky, casting a new glance towards Erik.
"No. I am not ill, nor am I of health."
"And what does that mean?" Asked a curious Erik.
Frida looked down at her feet, leaving a faint smile upon her face. She then returned to Erik's reddening face, when a surge of doubt and fear showered upon her. She cringed at the sky exhaustedly "I don't know, I just think that I daughter of Arnhaldr must break the-." Erick pressed his shaking hands over her mouth.
"That won't be necessary." Said Erik. He then crouched onto the snow to grab his bag of God's knows what, and left the scene.