Dawnmaid

Chapter one-2

Gunnar sighed at this, and turned away.

Arvid stirred in his basket and Gunnar went to pick him up. Dawa beat him to it, and cradled the baby carefully in his arms. He looked down on the tiny face and smiled. “Your boy Arvid is a fine-looking fellow. Like his brother Jakob.”

Gunnar’s eyes went wide at this casual statement. Not only did Dawa know the names of the twins, but he had been able to tell them apart, something that Gunnar did not always feel confident doing. Dawa met his eyes and said seriously, “You love them. That is very good. All sons need the love of a father.” Gunnar nodded firmly, wondering to himself if the old man before him could read his mind. He did love his sons, more than anything.

Dawa laughed. “No, no. It shows on your face.” But his words did not reassure Gunnar. Then the old man said softly, with his eyes on Arkady. “I loved that one as a son too.” Gwenn stood and brought Jakob over to Dawa, and exchanged him for Arvid, who wailed hungrily.

As Gwenn made her way back to the fireplace, she asked, “Why did Kadya need to come back here, Dawa? He begged me not to let them bury his body at Starruthe. Is he truly dead?”

Dawa nodded and Gwenn’s face fell. He said solemnly, “Griffon wanders now in the Vastness and it is beyond my power to call him back to the living world.”

Gwenn said sadly, “I thought, perhaps, you know... His heart stopped beating quite a while ago, weeks actually, but his body still looks... fresh. Are you sure?” She looked hopefully at him, and Dawa smiled and stroked Jakob’s cheek.

“If Griffon practiced Firemma,[1] as he was taught, then there may be a way. But it would be dark and dangerous for the one who undertakes it. Hana gives only a very few fortunate ones the ability to cross the heavenly plane between the living world and the Vastness. Fewer still are allowed to return.” Dawa looked over at Gunnar, but he said nothing else.

Eagerly Gwenn said, “I will go to the Vastness and bring Kadya back. I am not afraid.”

It came from his mouth before he could bite it back. “You cannot! I won’t let you.”

She stared back across the room at him and shrugged. “What would you have me do, Strong Arm? I must help Kadya if I can, after what he did for me.” Gwenn looked down at Jakob, now sleeping with his mouth still firmly attached to her n****e.

Gunnar asked quietly, “Even if it meant that your children would lose their mother?” He would not beg her to stay for his sake, not in front of Dawa. The flash of anger made him feel suddenly very weary, and Gunnar stood and stretched. He did not wait for Gwenn to reply, because he knew her answer already. “Is there a place for us to sleep in your house?” He looked expectantly at Dawa, who nodded.

“Come upstairs. I will show you the sleeping quarters. You have had a long and wearisome journey, and there is no need to go any further this night or for many days and nights to come.” He turned to leave the room through a curtained doorway leading to the stairs.

Gunnar put Arvid back in his basket and said to Gwenn, “I am going to lie down for a while. Are you coming?”

She answered quickly. “Not yet. I want to talk to Dawa some more. I must find out everything I can about this journey to the Vastness before I undertake it.” Gunnar sighed deeply but did not argue further with her. Instead he walked over to study an intricate silk hanging on the wall, of a beautiful green-skinned woman. Dawa joined him.

“My friend,” he said softly. “She understands. When the time comes to choose, she will help you.” Gunnar had no idea what he meant, and did not feel like asking. He followed as Arkady’s teacher took the steep, uneven steps quickly, two at a time. He led Gunnar along a narrow hallway to a small side room. Romping red beasts colorfully decorated the door curtain. “They keep bad dreams at bay,” said Dawa, smiling. “Will you like to bathe before your rest?”

Gunnar nodded and fervently hoped that there would be hot water. Weeks of traveling had left him heavily bearded and filthy. He allowed himself to be led into an alcove off the bedroom. Dawa bustled in and out with steaming buckets of water, and soon the deep, blue-tiled bath was full to the brim. Gunnar undressed and settled back contentedly, only wishing Gwenn would come and join him. After soaping his skin thoroughly, he took his knife and scraped the reddish-blond bristles from his face and neck. Dawa took his clothes away and promised to have them washed by the morning. He provided a soft woolen robe for Gunnar to wear in the meantime, along with some slippers with curiously pointed toes.

Surprisingly, Gwenn appeared just a few moments later, and sighing, joined Gunnar in the tub. He looked at her with concern. She seemed very upset about something, but when he questioned her she only shrugged. After a long soak and a wash they left the bath together and dressed in identical loose-fitting robes of sky blue, which tied at the waist with silky knotted cords. In the bedroom Dawa had left a tray with two bowls of barley soup. Gwenn sat on the bed and started to eat, but still did not speak. Gunnar sat beside her and ate his own portion, wondering what Dawa had said to upset her so.

Later, as they lay together in the double bed waiting for sleep, she said unhappily, “I cannot go to the Vastness. Dawa says I do not have the ability to cross the heavenly plane. Then he told me that he doesn’t know how to cross it either. He says there might be someone who can, but we cannot ask him if he is willing. It is so unfair, Gunnar.” She began to cry quietly, and Gunnar, never able to remain annoyed with her for long, put his arms around her comfortingly.

He stared up at the low ceiling, and the ornately carved, dark beams. More than anything he wished that Gwenn could somehow let her old lover rest, and give her heart solely to him. He asked more because he knew she expected it, rather than from any real desire to know, whether Dawa knew the name of this person who had the ability to cross the heavenly plane. He felt Gwenn’s nod in the darkness.

She said vehemently, “But he will not tell me who it is! Dawa says that they must come to their own decision.”

Gunnar could think of nothing to say to this, but an uncomfortable feeling pricked at the back of his mind that he might know who Dawa meant. But that thought died as Gwenn left his arms and turned away from him, facing the wall. He stroked her back tentatively, hoping she would respond. Gunnar had been patiently waiting for many days for a chance to make love to her, but the frantic journey across the steppes of Ruboralis had given them few opportunities. Now, as the babies slept quietly in their baskets, and he and Gwenn shared this warm and comfortable bed, he wanted her very much.

But she merely shook his touch away and said, “Not tonight. I have too much on my mind. It wouldn’t be any good for either of us.”

He withdrew his hand, sighing, and rolled over. Gunnar knew it would be of no use to argue. Though the room was very quiet and dark, he thought his need would make it difficult for him to get to sleep. Nevertheless, he found himself dreaming almost right away. A beautiful green-skinned woman stood before him, smiling tenderly. She said, “The time has come for you to find yourself. Will you undertake the journey?”

Gunnar shook his head, saying, “I don’t understand. What journey?”

Hana laughed merrily, like the sound of many small bells. “To the Vastness, of course. To bring back Griffon. He is my Seed Bearer and I need him here in the living world. And you have work to do of your own.”

He stammered, “Me? How can I go there? I am but an ordinary man, Hana. Surely Gwenn should be the one to go. She knows much more about Goddesses and the uncanny.”

“You are the grandson of the Numen. She is more powerful than any Goddess. Have you not always known this in your heart?” He thought about this, and then nodded. Gunnar had lived with his grandmother Eydis until age twelve. To his young eyes, she had been a witch — benevolent and wise — practicing her gentle magics among the people of the village. Only in the last weeks of her life did Gunnar begin to glimpse the real depth of his grandmother’s power.

“I cannot cross the heavenly plane. I don’t know how.” He tried to make his voice firm but it sounded doubtful, even to his own ears.

Hana laughed again. “Why don’t you try it then? Prove me wrong, Cousin of Fyn.”

He started to ask her how to make the journey, but to his chagrin he realized that the answer was there in his mind, and had been all the long — a small step forwards and to the left would carry him across the heavenly plane. Grinning at her sheepishly, he tried, and found himself in the profound silence of the Vastness. Another step to the right brought him back again. Hana still waited at the foot of the bed, watching Gwenn as she slept. Gunnar stood beside her and asked quietly, “Why do you need him?” He pointed to Gwenn. “It has something to do with her, does it not?”

Hana nodded. “Griffon must join with her so that the Dawnmaid may be born. She will be the savior of my people, and the Guardian of the West.”

He stared at her in amazement. “Holy Lutyond, woman! Are you proposing that I risk myself to rescue that sniveling Southerner so he can father a child with the woman I love? You must be completely mad.”

She nodded sadly. “I know it is a lot to ask of you. But you must understand. Gwenn gives her heart to you both, but when the time comes for her to decide, she will choose you. Until then, can you not share her for a time with your brother Griffon? The future of the whole Yrth may depend on it.”

Gunnar growled, “He is not my brother. I tried to kill him once. Did you know that? I might do it again. I don’t like him, and he certainly doesn’t like me.”

But Hana seemed to know the story already. “Ketha convinced you to, did she not? I don’t believe you would kill him now. You owe him much, for he died to give Gwenn life again.”

He sighed. “I know that well enough, so don’t remind me. How can I ever make it up to him?” Gunnar meant this rhetorically, but Hana answered anyway.

“By showing him the way back to the living world,” she suggested gently.

Gunnar looked at her gloomily. “I don’t know if I can...”

“Think on it this night. You need not make your decision right away. Tomorrow the way may seem clearer as the sun lights the minds eye. Farewell, my Northman.” The green-skinned woman faded into the darkness and Gunnar started, wondering if he had actually been asleep at all. Turning on his side, he watched Gwenn’s chest rise and fall, her blond hair glowing softly in the moonlight.

Gunnar tucked a stray lock of hair away from her face, thinking back to the day he first met her. Sif of the golden hair, she had called herself, and Gunnar had believed her to be a Goddess. She looked too beautiful to be mortal — then or now. He loved her deeply and he could not imagine, even for a moment, sharing her with another man. But that is what Hana asked of him.

She stirred and rolled over to face him with half-open eyes, and her gaze was unfocussed and sleepy. “Gunnar? Did the babies disturb you?”

He shook his head and smiled. “A dream woke me. Jakob and Arvid are still sleeping soundly. It won’t be time for their feeding for a little while yet.” Suddenly, his need for her became desperate and in order that she might fulfill this need he spoke without thinking further. “Gwenn,” he whispered in the darkness. “I know the name of the person Dawa was talking about. The one who can cross the heavenly plane.”

She raised her head sharply, saying, “Who? Who is it? You must tell me.”

He blinked hard several times in the darkness, but she could not see the tears in his eyes. There was no going back now, though her eager response pierced like the keenest of knives. “I am the one. Hana came to me just now. She told me so.” He waited, holding his breath, wondering if she would believe him.

At first she seemed not to. “You? Gunnar, don’t be absurd. You are just a mortal man.”

A few seconds later she snapped her fingers and said, “Wait a moment! Of course — it does make sense. Because of Eydis. She has given you the power.” Then she lay back abruptly on the pillow. “But you won’t go, will you? Not for Kadya’s sake. You hate him.”

“Not for his sake, no.” Gunnar replied softly. “But for you, I would do anything, you know that. I swore as much to you on the beach, the first day we met, when you spared my life. So you have only to ask me, and I shall go, willingly.”

Her blue eyes filled with tears. “You would do that? For me?”

“Yes,” he said, solemnly. “For you.”

She gave a small cry, and threw her arms about him, pulling him close. Her kisses were grateful, at first, and then more ardent as her fingers struggled to untie the knot in the soft robe he still wore. Laughing softly, Gunnar pulled it off over his head, and then pulled hers off too, with her help. It was not long before she drew him closer still, and he entered the heat of her body with his own. Part of his mind remained somehow detached from this intimacy. It wondered coldly if this lovemaking was worth the price — the dangerous journey to the Vastness to bring back his rival. But as Gwenn cried out in her passion, and sank her nails into the dragon tattoo on his back, the incessant pulse of his own gathering climax drowned out that voice completely. When it ended, and the weeks of frustration drained away, just before sleep he thought, tiredly, that whatever trials he must face, it would be worth it, for her sake.

The next morning dawned bright and clear. After breakfast, Dawa and Gwenn looked on anxiously as Gunnar readied himself for the journey. He wore his own clothes, miraculously washed, dried and mended overnight by their host, and carried a long knife. Dawa instructed him, saying, “Griffon’s spirit will linger somewhere close to this house, for it is still attached to his body by the narrowest of threads. I do not know how much longer the thread will hold, so you will have to make haste. You must pull him back across the heavenly plane with you, close to the place his earthly form rests by the fireplace.”

Gunnar went to stand before Gwenn, who passed the babies up to him one at a time. He stared for many moments at his sons, without speaking, and Gwenn knew then he did not believe he would return from the Vastness alive. After she placed Jakob and Arvid in their baskets she put her arms around him and whispered, “Go gentle, my love. Our boys need their father to teach them to sail. I am useless with an oar, remember?” Her attempt to lighten the situation did not make him smile

He raised his eyes to meet hers and asked quietly, “And you? Do you need me, Gwenn? Or would you rather that cursed Southerner returned alone?” She hesitated only briefly, but it communicated more to Gunnar than anything she might have said afterwards. He abruptly stepped away and a little to the side. Gwenn stared sadly at the blank space remaining, cursing her indecision, and wishing that he would come back to her so she could tell him she loved him. Jakob and Arvid both began to cry, as the first flakes of snow drifted down outside the windows.