Bloodmoon

Part 1

The clatter of carts between the shanty wooden buildings of Kattegat signaled that the day's trade in the busy market was done. Merchants with buggies piled high with unsold goods started off, heading for home or back to the ships tied at the bustling docks. Women were busy, cooking over outdoor fire, filling the streets with the smoky smell of meat. A welcome mask to the odour of livestock huddled in small pens between buildings and the suspended lines of drying fish.

Half the town was cast in the shadow of the hillside. The sun was setting fast as the guards trudged through the dusty streets, plowing through playing children and bumping into those hurrying home for the second meal. Barking ahead to clear the way, they guided their captive, careful not to allow the cover to slip.

Queen Aslaug sat on her decorative chair, overlooking the half-empty hall. Elbows on the armrests, her hands were clasped around a bronze goblet. Her eyes were glassy, and her gaze seemed focussed on images a thousand world's away.

The commotion at the open doors of the great hall snapped her from her daze. Two guards pulled a covered figure forward between the tables stopping a short distance from the base of the stairs that lead up to the throne. Squinting, she tried to make out the disproportionate shape covered with burlap; assuming the gender was female by the narrow feet that protruded from under a long black robe.

Straightening in their chairs, Ubbe and Sigurd sat on either side of their mother. Without looking away, Ubbe nudged Hvitserk who was leaning over the side of his chair, chatting with a young slave girl.

"My Queen. We, ah.... discovered something at the edge of the forest. It reports that it is here to speak with you."

"It?" furrowing her brow, Aslaug lifted her chin, elongating her elegant neck.

"My Queen," the guard cleared his throat. "It would appear to be a girl... of sorts".

"Of sorts?" Ubbe asked raising his eyebrows. Aslaug glanced over to Ubbe and back to the awkward lump of burlap before her.

Unfolding his legs, Sigurd cleared his throat. "Let us curb the dramatics and see why this girl has you so affected."

Hesitating, the men eyed each other and looked back at the Queen. Lifting her hand, she motioned for them to proceed.

"My Queen, we must prepare you," the second guard added, looking apprehensive.

"Please, do not take up any more of our time?" Ubbe scowled, exhaling loudly.

Casting the other a glance, the two guards slowly pulled the cover off the bent captive. Before, was a heap of black. The Queen and the princes squinted, shifting their heads side to side attempting to decipher the features of the dark form.

In a whirl of texture, the girl straightened, opening and lifting broad black feathered wings from in front of her, sweeping them up and around, contracting them behind her back. Their sheer size leaving them tall above her head and the length nearly touching the floor.

Gasps filled the hall.

The girl, herself, was average height, not statuesque like Aslaug and many Northern women. Her hair was thick and as dark as a moonless night, hanging freely to her elbows and parted down the center. The contrasting black of her hair, long lashes, and brow illuminated her smooth, pale skin which seemed oddly iridescent in the windowless hall. Her clothing was simple, a black fitted wrap dress with openings behind the shoulders allowing for the expansion of her folded raven-like wings. Her features were refined and feminine and her dark eyes skipped from person to person in front of her, distrust obvious in her suspicious glare.

The hall was still. The attention of every person fixed on the young foreign creature with their mouths open in wonder. The young girl lowered her eyes, fluttering her long dark lashes and looked back up to the queen with an expressionless face.

"Queen Aslaug. I must speak with you in a private setting."

"No", Ubbe shook his head, jolting to his feet, stepping partially in front of his seated mother. "You can say what you need to say here. Now. In front of us."

Whispers and murmurs bloomed in all directions.

"Ubbe," Aslaug pushed on her armrests to stand, placing her cup onto the seat, her blues eyes never leaving the visitor. "You are surely here with a message from the Gods, no?" Aslaug stepped around her eldest son and descended two steps. Ubbe and Hvitserk followed, stopping to stand on one side.

"I am My Queen and to deliver you this," reaching behind her waist, she withdrew a gold dagger from a sheath on her thin braided belt.

Aslaug's mouth fell open and her eyes narrowed. "Sigurd's knife" she whispered, turning to look to Ubbe astounded. "My father's knife."

The young girl lifted the dagger in her hand and stepped forward.

The guards reacted, one grabbing her shoulder and the other her throat. Screeching, she struggled to free herself from their grasp, expanding her broad wings and flapping frantically.

"Stop! Release her!" Aslaug yelled, pointing a thin finger down at the guards.

Dropping their hands, the girl shot into the air; fast, small flaps keeping her suspended in place, her feet just above the heads of the guards. Reaching up, Aslaug offered her hand with a look of reassurance.

The girl snapped her wings and with a swish leaned forward stretching her hand out, still clutching the dagger, towards Aslaug.

"Mother no!" screamed Ivar from the floor just inside the hall doors where he had entered. Like lightning, he raised his bow firing an arrow towards the levitating winged woman, striking her high on the left side of the chest. Embedding deeply into the soft tissue below the collarbone.

The girl crashed to the wooden floor and a noiseless flash illuminated from her body, causing a powerful, invisible blast to spread out in all directions. An ethereal current of air and pressure spread outward in silent waves like a rolling sea, instantaneously freezing all those it passed through. People silently lurched, weapons and drinking horns dropped, and every person's breath was knocked from their lungs. People toppled to the floor as it moved through and out the other side of their bodies.

A shrill grating kraa echoed through the utterly silent hall as a large raven landed overhead on a thick wooden beam. Crouched forward, its raspy croak screamed at the dark-haired girl who lay slumped on her back, wings spread and bent.

Her head snapped up and her furious narrowed eyes.

"Father," she hissed. "Ivar does not know it is me."