Page 13 of The Source of Storms

“He’s tied to the sled, don’t worry,” Byrgir answered. “Let’s get you inside so Eilith can take care of you. I’ll look after your horse.”

Eilith’s home was a barrage of warmth and strange smells. It was dimmer inside, and although still awash in natural light from the many windows, it was dark enough for me to open my eyes more comfortably. Herbal and floral fragrances mixed with wood smoke and deep spices. Clay pots, bottles, and cloth bags filled every shelf, cabinet, and corner.

She brought me near the fireplace in the main room and pulled back a curtain to reveal a small bed piled in knit blankets and sheepskins; a black cat was tucked atop in a tight ball. I sat down on the edge of the bed and found my dizziness abated if I didn’t move.

Eilith pulled Byrgir’s blanket from me and wrapped me instead in the covers from the bed, which had already been warmed by their proximity to the fire. The cat moved away at the disturbance, stretching at the other end of the bed with a yawn. Eilith examined my head, looking into my eyes and having me track her finger as she drew it back and forth in front of my face. She asked me about what had happened, and listened quietly to my recounting of the events without interrupting.

When I was done, she nodded, seemingly unsurprised. “You have a concussion, and you’re lucky to have gotten away with only that. Not many people survive an encounter with a nuckelavee and live to tell about it. Reaching the river saved you. They never cross flowing water once they exit the sea.”

“That thing came from the ocean?” I asked.

She chuckled, nodding knowingly again. “The ocean, and whatever cursed shadow spawns those demons. It’ll be gone come summer, but I expect it will be back next winter. Here, let me get you something.”

She rose and shuffled through bottles on a shelf. She uncorked one, poured a small amount of brown, murky liquid into a mug, and brought it to me.

“You’ll drink this amount three times a day for the next few weeks. It will help your head heal faster. It will be a long road though. You won’t feel like yourself for a while. And I’ll have to make a lot more.”

It stank of bitter herbs and dank earth. I took it clumsily in frozen hands and downed it quickly. It was not pleasant. Eilith poured boiling water from a kettle hanging over the fire and passed me a mug of hot tea to chase the tincture with.

“Thank you,” I said. “I can’t… I don’t know what to say. I’d be dead without you and Byrgir.”

“Good that he happened to be coming along when he did. That road sees little traffic this time of year, and you’re lucky it was him that found you. Someone else may have robbed you and left you to die. He’s a good man.”

The door opened again, and Byrgir walked in. His cloak and hat shimmered with a glittering layer of frost that caught the orange evening glow.

“The horse has some nasty gashes,” he said. “They won’t stop bleeding.”

He hesitated, glancing at me and then Eilith, as if choosing his next words carefully. My stomach dropped as dread filled me.

“I’ll need all the clean wraps you have,” he finished, looking down. “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.”

Eilith moved around the house, gathering rolled up strips of clean linen and a glass jar with something dark inside for Byrgir. “You might not make any promises,” she said, “but I will. Bring these out and I’ll boil more water. I’ll come help you in a moment.”

As Byrgir opened the door to leave, I glimpsed the large, dark shadow of a dog standing in the snow, just outside the door in the fading light. It was bigger than any dog I had seen before,and it stared through the doorway with an acute intensity in its yellow eyes.

“Byrgir’s good with animals,” Eilith said as she hung a large pot of water over the flames in the hearth. Then she set about pulling bread, cheese, and dried meat from shelves and cupboards. “And I’ve taught him some basics of wound care and healing. Your horse is in good hands.”

I nodded, unable to make the thoughts in my head come out as cohesive words.

Eilith set a plate of food down next to me and put more wood in the fireplace, before tugging on her cloak and retrieving the pot of water from the hearth.

“Eat, Halja. Your body won’t heal without the energy to do it. I’ll go help Byrgir with your horse.”

“Anam,” I croaked.

She nodded, and swept out into the snow and fading light of twilight.

I ate all I could and felt the warmth of the hot tea radiate outward from my center; the stove warmed me from the outside. As I thawed, the numbing cold turned to agony. My frozen hands and feet screamed and throbbed with the familiar, needle sharp pain of nerves that had been too cold for too long as they warmed. My head swam and the thick blankets seemed to pull me down into them.

I awoke to the door swinging open. Eilith and Byrgir came in, followed by the huge wolf-like dog. Large snowflakes blew past the doorway, illuminated against in the dark exterior by the glow of the lamps inside. I sat up, my body stiff and achy.

Eilith’s dog approached me, walking around the small table near the fireplace while keeping its yellow eyes fixed on me intently. It stood taller than the table at shoulder height, and looked more wolf than dog. I reached out my hand and it sniffed it, before snuffling its nose around in my blankets briefly. It thenflopped in front of the fireplace, apparently satisfied with the results of its investigation.

Byrgir hung his snow-covered coat, hat, and mittens on a wooden rack suspended from the ceiling over the fireplace. Eilith filled a large bowl of water and they both washed their blood-stained hands.

“I think he will be alright,” Eilith said as she dried her hands and yet again began gathering food in the tiny kitchen space on the far side of the fireplace. “The wound is in a very difficult place to wrap, but if he can keep the bandages on and let us tend to him, he should heal.” She was quiet for a moment as she cut slices of cheese. “There’s something different about his wounds, something not quite right. They’re turning black, as if they’re infected, but it would be far too early for a normal infection to be spreading like this if he was just injured today. Did it cut you too?”

“No,” I answered. “I don’t think so, at least. Thank you, both, for taking care of him. I can’t afford another horse and he’s...” I hesitated again, feeling foolish for being so attached to a horse, especially so quickly. I feared their judgments would be the same as my father’s. Maybe I was ridiculous for caring. “He saved my life,” I finished, looking down.

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