Nightshade: Chapter IV
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IV – The Lightning and The Visitor
Noë hurriedly removed the grain and stored it on the stable pantry shelves before pulling out blankets from the dusty cabinet. She heard Hrim shiver from the growing cold. "Going as fast as I can, buddy." She said as she swiped the new powder match she had traded for with Geran. She hummed her approval as she lit the candles and stored the rest. She hadn't believed him when he said they had discovered how to put dry fire on wicker sticks in Vertan, but she was glad she was wrong.
After a quick ride back to town, the first of the storm blown over, she was surprised to find still no one around, shop windows and homes still shut tight as if all had moved away but them.
She hoped they too were taking the proper precautions. This storm felt like no other that had ever touched their shores.
Wings beating brought her attention excitedly to the open far window facing the sea. Black wings spread wide the length of the stable grew closer over the waters, a giant raven on the darkening horizon.
She pet the bird's black head as it perched on the stable gate. “There you are Huginn. I’ll put out some maize for you. We got it fresh yesterday.” She took a fistful from the bag of grain and a handful of hay, fluffing a spot on the blanket shelf for him to settle into.
Noë smiled as he chirped happily in return. Diseased and malnourished, she had cut the netting from Huginn’s body and nursed him back to health. They had become close friends ever since.
At the extra attention to the bird, Hrimfaxi neighed in disapproval.
Noë smiled and walked closer to him to touch his glistening mane. “Jealous.” She cooed as she pet his snout and hugged it against her face.
She dimmed the lantern by the door. “I’m going inside. Promise me you two will play nice tonight?” As the horse and bird looked at each other wearily she gave them a final wave. “Goodnight.”
Noë locked Hrim's gate again, wishing him good night as he laid in the pile of blankets.
Lightning crossed the dark blue sky.
It came in quick succession, one after the other before striking the ground in front of her, scaring her backwards into the mud from the heat of the blast.
Noë covered her head as thunder vibrated the air and prayed it would not hit her.
As the thunder clapping ceased she looked up and saw a tall nordic girl with wild red hair flying in the storm coated wind. Red Valkyrie armour on her form as anger, fear, longing, pride corrupted her mind, filling Noë’s with her emotion.
Inside of her, Noë heard peaks and valleys of resentment and… familiarity.
Did she… know her?
Noë sat up as the girl's tears trickled down her own cheeks. Panic and tears began to fill her body, hearing the red woman's questioning–her lust for vengeance as she looked down at Noë in the sand.
With the next clap of thunder and red flashing light, the woman was gone.
Noë didn't know how long she sat there–minutes or seconds–she began to feel pain in her palms. She lifted them from the ground, as pebbles fell from her tan skin and jagged rocks stayed embedded in her soft flesh.
“Noë!” Dahlia called as wind and lightning blew in the back door. Seeing its red tinge, hearing whispers and feeling the nearness of one once loved, Dahlia instinctively grabbed a kitchen knife and wrapped her own head to shield her from the rain that had begun to pour.
“Noë!” Dalia shouted again into the night as she saw her on the ground. Dahlia concealed the knife in her cloak and went to her in the pouring rain.
Painfully, Noë helped herself up as her aunt ran to her, her cloak falling, exposing her milk skin to the moonlight.
Dahlia held her waist as she helped her walk back to the cottage, stepping over where the lightning had hit a small patch of sand, turning it to silver glass.
Dahlia sat Noë down on the wooden chair by the bed. The cold building around her as she fought for control of her mind–the voices too loud, Dahlia signed with her hands instead:
‘You're okay darling, deep breaths.’
Noë felt herself losing control as her palms stung and blood began to slip between her fingers. “Auntie…” she whimpered as she felt the cold air of the void in her heart, clouding her mind, and squeezing her throat.
Dahlia held Noë's face as the roots of her hair began curling black.
‘You're safe. You're alright. You're in control.’
She assured her, her hand movements firm as Noë’s skin began to dull, warmth being pulled from her body.
Dahlia cleaned her niece's palms quickly, removing the pebbles in her cuts and the sheet rock stuck between her fingers.
‘Everything is well. I'm right here for you.’
Noë closed her eyes as she tried pushing the dark thoughts out of her mind. The death, the cold, the void, she pushed it all away as Dahlia began to hum. Dahlia took Noë's hand, pressing her fingers against her throat to feel its vibration. She breathed in her aunt's soothing melody allowing it to make her calm.
Dahlia finished wrapping Noë’s hands in bandages as her eyes returned to cloudless silver retracting the deep frozen blue, the black of the void fading from her hair back to its natural white.
She exhaled with her in relief.
“That was close. Too close this time, Noë.” Dahlia chided as she stood. Noë needed guidance from someone of divinity. As a physical spirit, there was much that Dahlia could not teach her, and soon it would be time to allow her into the arms of someone who could.
Noë felt her Aunt hold her cheek and breathed in the last of her calming energy. “There was someone out there, Auntie. A woman with red hair–a Valkyrie, and the lightning–I swear it tried to strike me.”
Dahlia let concern flicker in her eyes for only a moment before she dismissed it. She was not ready to learn of Tihala yet.
“Lightning strikes sometimes, Noë. You must do better to control the darkness of the void within you. I cannot do it for you.”
Noë couldn't accept this answer. “But what about the woman? She… I swear I knew her.” She hesitated. “I know you said not to, but… I read her mind. The hatred–the mourning–”
Dahlia exhaled deeply and spoke. “Noë, you know you cannot give in. Linking to another–even minutely–is dangerous until you can control yourself.”
“Stop dismissing me!” Noë screamed over her, frustration boiling over as the cold returned.
Dahlia watched as Noë stood panting, her eyes shifting again as she tried to regain control.
Under her unwavering gaze, Noë felt the cold pull away, regaining control as she rubbed her head and sat again. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry. But if I’ll never be good enough for you to trust me–trust my word–”
“You are good enough. More than good enough, and I do trust you. But we must remain focused and not allow these things to sway us.” Dahlia took to her side and bent down once more as she comforted her on her knee.
Dahlia fought with grief as they sat together, wishing for more time. There was so much left unsaid, unpromised that she wished for her. How much would she miss out on if she never got to see Noë again?
She longed for Aztrit. She would know what to do–what to say.
Noë read Dahlia's fear–her sadness as she turned away to the kitchen. It was the same melancholy her aunt felt whenever Noë asked about her mother and father.
Two centuries after Aztrit’s death, the loss of her sister was still a large marr on Dahlia’s heart, one that she hid under a brave face, but Noë knew it lived within her, forever struck with pained absence.
After dinner, with her aunt resting by the fire, Noë brought the books and thread to the bench where Dahlia lied.
She sat on the floor beneath her as Dahlia began combing her hair for the night.
Noë twirled the new silver thread around her fingers, plotting the next design she would sew. She tilted her head left and right as her aunt's fingers combed through her dense white hair and began to twist it.
Dahlia focused on braiding as her niece hummed. "Did you buy more parchment darling?"
Noë nodded and reached underneath the cushioned bench for her journal. Its worn front was creased and ragged, reflecting just how often she used it. She opened it up and threaded more paper into the binding.
As she finished, Noë flipped through the previous pages, with songs, poems and illustrations on each tan sheet. She flipped to the front where a drawn depiction of her mother was etched into the paper, with a song describing her to her side and beneath her sandaled feet.
Noë dragged her fingers along the lines of her mother’s face, the upturned nose, her full lips, her almond eyes, her twisted brown hair gilded with gold. She wondered if her mother's eyes were as bright as her aunt had said they were. She closed her eyes, longing for an impression of her–just one.
Dahlia watched her linger on Aztrit's page. Noë truly took after her, but her cheeks and her eyes were of her father, jovial and full. Although Dahlia couldn't remember seeing Kirk ever smile or laugh.
Stoic and broody had been precisely her sister’s type. And still he loved her with the strength of a thousand suns. Their bond had been magnetic, written amongst the stars. She hoped her niece would find someone strong and kind. Someone to love and smile at her presence alone.
Dahlia smiled to herself. “Would you like another song?”
Noë nodded and flipped to a blank page. “Who tonight?”
“Hmmm…” Dahlia pondered. “Tonight we see the hero, Baldur. Without whom your mother would not have Kulda–golden red, her fire breather, and Sif. Whose beauty was legendary amongst the God's.”
Noë marked three pages with each subject; Kulda, Baldur, and Sif. "Ready."
Dahlia began to sing, beginning with Baldur as the coal stick readied in Noë's hand.
With features so fair, and eyes of bright
Baldur procured his knowledge of life
Into the future he did seek
A knowledge from which the wells of fate leaked
With just a sip of heaven divine
He was bestowed with the untellable signs
And so to his home he did return
To tell Allfather for which he yearned
Lies from his lips, but his lover did know
The truth that Odin was not bestowed
That kingdom and realm would not withstand
And the great father’s destiny
was not to keep the land in his hand.
Noë added finishing touches to his image from the picture Dahlia painted with her words. As Dahlia began to repeat her song, Noë wrote it quickly.
Dahlia looked over her shoulder as she finished another section of her hair. “The chin is a little more square. Hair, white. His brows were very strong and proud. He carried the weight of the Gods new and old on his shoulders. All mourned when he ascended. In this song we hear that Baldur, so beloved, his wealth of knowledge so valued and trusted from his prophetic dreams, returned from a journey with tears in his eyes that Odin and Frigg had never seen fall from him before. He discovered something–so evil that not even he dared to extend it to the Allfather.”
She bent down and kissed her face. “He reminds me of you.”
Noë corrected her drawing. Her aunt’s respect for him was clear. What had he seen that had troubled him so immeasurably? “He forged Kulda?”
“Yes. It was a gift to Odin when he learned his father was to have a child with Eir, a sonu.”
Noë squinted, this was a lot of information. “Eir? What’s a sonu?”
Dahlia laughed as Noë continued taking notes, furiously rattling off questions. “We will never get to the other stories tonight if you keep asking questions.”
‘Sorry…’
Noë signed shyly as she continued to draw.
Dahlia paused. It was only right for her to be curious. “Eir was your mother's mother. She was a sonu, a human capable of seeing and healing the Gods through worship. Some say they are Valkyrie not yet born. Odin discovered her one day as he was injured in the Sunlands. Far from home, he sought her out, and was smitten from there.”
Noë started a new page for her grandmother, but she hesitated to write Dahlia's words. “Wasn’t Odin married to Frigg?”
Dahlia paused, marriage was fickle amongst the Gods. “It is… complicated.” She said nervously in the face of the Allfather’s infidelity.
Noë hummed with curiosity. Then she tensed, her vision blurring until her mind was not her own.
“What's wrong darling?” Dahlia paused her twisting as Noë sat straight and stopped breathing.
Noë was overwhelmed with the sun and blue sky. She heard laughter and joyous sweet loving words, then felt tears like rain on her cheeks. Fire and Hel Riders tore through a village with grass huts, and brown bodies piled high as loss moved in.
“Noë?” Dahlia shook her from her vision. “Are you alright?”
Noë nodded. “Yes, I'm sorry. I just felt…” she blinked away Odin's tears. The sadness and devastation took its toll on her mood.
Dahlia examined her.
With the storm progressing, rain pattering at the cottage windows; magic was heavy in the air.
“Okay, enough for tonight. Let us rest, and tomorrow we can make more bread from the maize you picked up yesterday.”
Noë smiled happily and rose as Dahlia fastened the last gold cuff in place in her twists, looking forward to her aunt’s maize bread. She reminded herself that her mind was her own, and that she could not allow someone’s worries and fears consume her.
Tomorrow was a new day.
To be continued...