The Viking Witch Mysteries: Books 4-6

Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

I thrust my feet into my boots and grabbed my parka from its hook, but went out the door without putting it on or even tying my laces.

The night was colder than ever, my breath forming a thick fog that trailed behind me as I pushed my way past my garden gate and out into the street.

But then I stopped. I had no idea which way to go. Everything around me was so quiet and so still. No one else was coming outside to see what had happened. Had I imagined it? Had I touched on some magical thing while I had been drawing the rune?

No, that made no sense. Nothing about Fe suggested violence, and that scream had clearly been panicked. Then there was the fact that it had been cut off so abruptly. Someone had been hurt, or worse.

Suddenly I heard the slap of feet running. I stepped further out into the street, trying to pinpoint the direction.

They were running away from me, or at least from where I was standing, because the sound was definitely getting farther away, but I couldn't tell which way they were running. The echo up and down the house-lined streets just wouldn't let me even guess where the source was.

And then that sound, too, was gone. And I was alone, slowly freezing in the icy air. I pulled on my parka, then took my hat and mittens out of its pockets.

I had no intention of going back inside until I knew what had happened, but where to start looking?

Suddenly there was a streak of motion, an inky black shadow racing against the backdrop of snow and icy cobblestones.

"Mjolner!" I cried. But he just ran past me without a glance, heading towards the square at the center of the village. I zipped up my parka as I ran, slipping on the ice and nearly tripping over my own bootlaces. I caught up with him at the well. He was walking all around it, rubbing his body against the stone sides and yowling loudly.

I gave him a reassuring pat on the head, then leaned over the side to look down into the well. I had never looked into it before, but I knew it was still a functioning well. There was water in there, but I had no idea how deep it had been dug to find it.

Even now I couldn't tell how deep it was, but I could see something reflecting starlight back up to me. Ice or water, it was too far away to be sure which.

Or if someone was down there in need of help. Or worse, beyond help.

I cast the one spell I knew best, a little spell to create a ball of light, then threw that light down into the well.

The glow from the light reflected off the icy sides of the well, then off the ice below. The ice was broken into floating pieces with water pooling on the tops of the larger pieces. Actively pooling; something had broken that ice just moments before.

There was also a dark shape down there, a shape that wasn't reflecting the light. A body? I couldn't tell, but it didn't seem to be moving.

And near the place where the ball of light had settled, there appeared to be a darker smear on the ice, already dissipating in that pooling water. Blood?

I straightened up and looked down at Mjolner, who was still behaving as if deeply upset.

"We need more help," I said to him, and he meowed back. I felt like he was telling me he was too shaken up to go on any missions. "It's okay, Mjolner. I've got this one."

Then I performed my second-best spell, the one that amplified my voice. No one else had heard that scream, apparently, but everyone was going to hear me.

"Villmarkers! Trouble in the commons!" I called out. I might have overdone it; I could hear the glass in the windows all around me rattling as the enhanced decibels of my voice shook them.

But it did the trick. Almost at once front doors were thrown open and people flooded out into the streets, all running to join me in the square.

"Ingrid! What is it?" a voice said behind me, and I spun around to see Thorbjorn and his brother Thorge at the head of the crowd coming down from the north end of town.

"Did no one hear that scream a moment ago?" I asked.

The two of them looked at each other before shaking their heads.

"We were awake in our kitchen, but we heard nothing," Thorge said.

"Where did you hear this scream?" Thorbjorn asked.

"I was at home, but I think it came from here," I said. "I think there's someone on the ice down in the well. But the ice is broken. They might sink before we get down there. How deep is it?"

"Deep," Thorbjorn said, and the two of them leaned over the side to look for themselves. I could see the silvery light of my spell on their faces as they leaned in a lot farther than I had tried to.

"She's right," Thorbjorn said, and Thorge nodded.

"Lower me down," he said, reaching for the rope tied to the winch over the well. Thorbjorn wrapped the bit closest to the winch around his waist, then handed the other end to his brother. Thorge bound it around his own waist, then threw both of his legs over the side of the well.

I almost yelped aloud, fearing he was going to plummet to the body, but he caught himself. He paused like that for a moment, hanging onto the stone lip by his fingertips. A look passed between him and Thorbjorn, and then he started climbing down, his body quickly blocking out the light from my spell.

"It's a woman," Thorge called up to us from the darkness below. "Blonde. I can't see her well enough to recognize her. There's a lot of blood."

"Is she alive?" I asked.

"Not breathing," he said between grunts. Thorbjorn braced himself more firmly, and I guessed Thorge had picked up the body. "I'm coming up," Thorge said.

The crowd around us was growing by the moment, but no one was coming closer. They just watched, some holding each other, a few whispering together. I scanned for familiar faces but didn't find any.

It was hard not to imagine that for at least one of them, it was because they were the one slung over Thorge's shoulder as he climbed. Could this be someone I knew?

Then someone else emerged from the crowd, pushing past the shocked villagers to reach us by the well. It was Thorbjorn's father, Valki. He gave me a solemn nod, then reached into the well to help Thorbjorn take the woman off of Thorge's shoulders.

They laid her gently on the cobblestones. Her blonde hair was loose but plastered to her face by icy water and blood. I dropped to my knees by her side and peeled off my mittens to touch her.

She was so cold already, and not breathing, and my fingers against the side of her neck felt no pulse.

I shook my head, although no one around me had asked if she was okay. I could feel that question just hanging over all of us, and I felt everyone's despair at my silent answer even more acutely.

I brushed the hair back from her face wet strand by wet strand. Thorbjorn was on his knees on the other side of the body, and his father and Thorge stood over us.

Thorbjorn must have recognized her first. I could hear the sharp intake of his breath, but before I could ask, I saw the freckle on her cheek.

"Sigvin?" I said, my hands shaking as I brushed back the last of her hair.

"No, not Sigvin," Thorge said. "It's her sister, Nefja."

He was right. My heart clenched in my chest. I had spent all last night in her company. She had been merry, laughing and teasing her sister, her cheeks bright in the too-warm mead hall, so full of life.

What was laying before me was like a shell of that woman, cold and empty. I wanted to find whoever was responsible for doing this to her, to make them pay for what they had taken out of the world.

But had it been a murder, or just a tragic accident?

I remembered the sound of feet running away, the only other person who had been around when I had first come outside.

I couldn't rest until I knew who that had been running away. And why. Had they fled the scene of a horrific accident? Or had they run to evade punishment for their crime?