Her father walked her to the edge of the forest, tears pouring down his cheeks as he said goodbye for the last time.
“Make the best of your new life, my child,” he said, holding her tightly against him. “Remember to always do good and you will get by. I pray that life is kind to you.”
He let go of her and she mounted the horse that would take her far, far away. She looked back until her father was lost to sight in the dense forest. Never had she felt so alone and helpless.
CHAPTER 3
M any hours later, they reached the edge of the village of Myrkvior Fjall. They had travelled all night to reach it and Eira was tired, hungry and frightened. The warriors pulled the horses to a stop.
“Get off!” one of them ordered. “This is where we leave you.”
“But you were told to take me into the village!” she protested.
“There is no one here to make us,” the other one sneered. “You are on your own, evil witch.”
“We have no more time for your stupidity. Or your wicked deeds. Good luck with your new life,” the first soldier said sarcastically, ignoring the tears pouring down her cheeks.
They wheeled their horses around and galloped back into the forest, leaving Eira standing there all alone.
She knew she had no choice but to go into the village by herself. She picked up her things and tried to look confident as she approached the first group of buildings. This was no time to break down. Her father had told her to remain strong in order to survive what she might face. She had no idea what the future held, but whatever it was, she would face it with bravery, as befitted the daughter of the great clan leader, Bjarni.
As she stood near the houses, a man walked towards her. He was wearing the clothing typical of a farmer but his shoes were good quality and he was well-fed. She guessed that he was wealthier than the average villager. Although she was wary, she sensed that he wasn’t the type to take advantage of a defenseless woman.
"Excuse me, sir,” Eira called to him as he approached. "I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of Taft Havardr."
The man looked up and gasped in shock. Then his expression became bland and inscrutable as he examined her from head to toe. Eira was puzzled by his reaction to her. She had only asked for directions.
"And who are you?" he asked her.
"I am Eira, daughter of Bjarni, chief of the Ottarsung clan of Thvengr. My mother, Astrid, is a sister of Taft. She sent me here to him." Eira watched as the man's puzzled look changed to something else that she couldn't decipher. She sensed a mixture of resentment and anger in his heart. Topped off with just a touch of curiosity.
"Did you say Astrid?" he asked as he moved closer.
Eira took a step backwards. "Yes. You know her?"
The man stopped in his tracks. "Wait. There's no need to be afraid of me. It's just that things are not the way you think they are."
"What do you mean?"
"Maybe Astrid did not tell you this but there is a disagreement between your clan and ours. And it all began with Taft and your mother." He watched her keenly, hoping she would understand what he had just told her.
Eira looked puzzled for a minute before she raised her head and looked beyond the tall man standing before her. "I need to find Taft,” she said. “If you will not help me, I shall find him myself."
The man smiled dryly. "Wench, you have no idea, do you? I have only one piece of advice for you. Leave while you still can." He turned and walked away without another word, leaving her standing there wondering what she had done to deserve such rudeness.
"What a rude and inconsiderate man!" Eira muttered as she walked into the village.
The village layout was almost the same as her own village. The houses were built side by side, adorning a large expanse of land. There were big fireplaces out in the open where meat was skinned and preserved. Some of the houses looked larger and more prosperous than others but all were constructed in the same style as the houses in her village. Several longhouses accommodated multiple families at the other end of the village. Children ran around, their happy laughter a pleasant sound. Eira could smell the cooking pots and her mouth watered. She was so hungry. Many of the men were absent, presumably out hunting or working on their farms. A stream bordered one side of the village and Eira could see several women bending over the clothes they were washing in the stream.
Eira walked up to a woman who was crouched beside her fire, stirring a cooking pot.
“Excuse me, would you be kind enough to point me to Taft?” she asked.
The woman gestured for her to take a seat on the other side of the fire. “You have been on a journey, haven’t you?” the woman asked, looking at Eira’s clothes. Her coat had dirty marks on it from where the horses’ hooves had flung up mud and her blonde hair, worn long and loose to show that she was unmarried, was knotted and untidy. The woman handed her a jug of water and a dipper.
"Yes,"
