Curse Of Blood: Gods & Monsters

Chapter XVI - Aila

Völva — a female shaman (a seer) in Norse mythology.

Valkyrie — one of a host of female figures who choose those who may die in battle and those who may live.

The child's eyes were large and steady as she watched Aila peering over her mother's shoulder. They were perfect pools of golden rye, lambent in the firelight, and what was more, Brenna seemed wholly untroubled by the noisy chatter filling the cavernous mead hall, their former abode, her young gaze entirely captivated by the tall woman looming overhead.

It seemed that each family member of every household in Harald's clan had congregated here tonight in contrived good cheer and anxious palaver — the overall belief being that the morrow might herald the advent of their husbands, sons and fathers.

It was now the start of summer and the men were past overdue. This feast was as much a chance for the people to stave off the worriment permeating the community as it was to reassure themselves and their neighbors that naught was awry. Aila endeavored, therefore, not to think on the uncertainty of Orvar and Harald's safety. She glanced towards young Eirik and thanked the gods again that he was such a comfort to her, standing there beside their father who was fortifying morale with his questionable jesting. At least I do not have the added trouble of agonizing over their welfare besides.

Aila smiled uneasily and focused her attention on the bairn recumbent on its mother's lap. "She is, in sooth, a pretty babe, Epona, but her eyes transfix me quite. How extraordinary they are; so like the color of sun-kissed barley!"

Epona grinned proudly as she nuzzled the child's soft brow. "Aye, she has her father's beautiful eyes. I have no doubt she will have his dark hair as well."

Ahh yes, the beloved and unrivaled Fáelán. Aila bit her lip, loathe to have invoked his memory so thoughtlessly, yet, except for the ice thawing in her eyes, she seemed otherwise serene.

Epona had spoken of him often enough and she feared that the young woman might never recover her poor heart again. 'Twas an irrefutable truth that there were those that loved seasonally — perchance too easily — and those that surrendered perpetuity for the love of a soul-match. The latter were indeed the rarest breed and only exceptional love would inspire them to leap in at all; their sole purpose in life the recognition and merging of spirits. But therein lay the tragedy: if one half perished, the other disposed its heart evermore thereafter.

Aila wondered if it might be too cruel to be consumed so completely only to lose the life that gave such meaning; or was it kinder to sustain one's wasted heart on mediocre fare the entire length of one's life.

Nay, not I. Aila decided that she should much rather know the pain of crippling loss than exist so insipidly. It struck her then — and not for the first time — that she should never have married Harald. Instead she had perforce allowed a father's pride and a childish infatuation to fuel her everlasting remorse. Theirs had never been a soul connection and her heart now beat for another. No earthly being could hereafter induce it from its otherworldly, unrivaled captor.

"I am glad of it," Aila replied softly, pushing Loki reluctantly from her thoughts as she steered her attention back whence it belonged. It was right that Brenna should resemble her father.

They were quiet some moments thereafter. Aila, for her part, did not wish to further excite Epona's painful memories and so they were both content to be still, soothed by the variegated voices ebbing and flowing around them in chaotic incoherence.

When the door opened at the opposite end of the hall, admitting a gust that disturbed the flames momentarily, Aila did not think to remark the emergence of the latecomer until that person was right beside her.