Page 23 of The Source of Storms

“Gods above, how did that happen?” Ruby asked.

“I was taking a shortcut through the woods when I had the bad fortune of meeting a nuckelavee. I ran, and managed to escape across the river, but I took a tumble from my horse and hit my head. I didn’t make it far after that. If Byrgir hadn’t come along when he did, I would’ve died from exposure.”

“That’s Byrgir.” Ruby reached across the table and squeezed his arm affectionately. “Always there to help when someone’s in need. And always shows up at just the right time. How lucky you were so close to Eilith’s, the best healer for miles around. She keeps this whole town alive and healthy. Has for many years. About time she had some company out there.”

“It’s nice out there, but I do miss being around others sometimes,” I said. “Eilith is good company, just not a lot of it.”

“Well, you’re welcome at my home any time for dinner or a cup of tea. Any friend of Byrgir’s is a friend of our family.” Her smile was warm and genuine. Just like Byrgir’s.

“Thank you, I’d love that.” I looked down at the spread of glinting jewelry on the table. “Did you make all this?”

“I did,” she said.

“These are lovely.” I picked up a tall hair bead carved with knotwork patterns wrapped around a flower, then another decorated with bindrunes. They looked similar to the ones Sigurd had given me.

“Thank you,” she said. “Feel free to try things on, if you like.”

“I didn’t call you over here to try to make you buy something from my mother, you know,” Byrgir said jokingly as I eyed a pair of earrings set with shimmering tourmaline.

“I know, but you can’t stop me from doing it,” I said, picking up a stack of braid rings. I had thrown my old set into the mud at Sigurd. It would suit me to have a new set to match my new life.

I bought an assortment of bronze rings and beads to contrast my light hair and braided them into it. Two more potential customers stepped up to browse Ruby’s wares, so Byrgir and I cleared off to wander the now busy market square.

“So, how has it been out there?” Byrgir asked.

“Good! Strange, but good,” I said, and he chuckled knowingly.

“Eilith is an eccentric of sorts. How is your head doing?”

“Recovering well, thanks to you. I would be dead without your help, you know.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “I know, I know. But I’m no hero. If I didn’t save you, I’d be the ass who left a girl in the snow to die.”

“So your first concern was maintaining your upstanding reputation?”

“Like my mother said, always ready to help those in need. If folks found out I left you to die, this whole hero persona I’ve worked so hard to build would be gone like that.” He snapped his fingers.

“Reluctant hero persona,” I corrected.

“Dying girls in the snow can’t be choosers.”

“Let me buy you some sweets in thanks?” The smell of baked goods was getting stronger, and I followed my nose.

“That is a gift of gratitude I would accept,” Byrgir said. “There’s a bakery stall over there that sells spiced buns. I get one at every market.”

I bought us two large spiraled buns baked with cinnamon and nutmeg and filled with melted sugar and butter. They were divine. I made a mental note to buy a few more to bring back with us when we left.

We walked slowly through stalls together. As I stopped to peruse the stand of a woman selling dyed yarns in muted, earthy tones, a voice carried over the general murmur of market shoppers. It grew louder as we neared the center of the square, and I could no longer stifle my curiosity. I made my way toward it. Byrgir followed.

On the wooden platform in the open center of the square stood a short man with a balding pate, wearing a tabard of deep maroon emblazoned with a radiant gold sun. He was preaching with fervor, his arms waving, his voice rising and falling in pitch.

“… of progress, of civilization! He will guide us to the future, advance civilization to our glowing destiny. All are welcomed in His golden Light!! By committing yourself to the way of the Light, you are already in it. It has already begun. His divine aura will bless you through the darkest of times, and ho, the darkest of times do come!”

“What’s he on about?” I mumbled to Byrgir as we approached.

“He’s one of the Paragons of the Light. Worshipers of the new god, Enos.”

“I’ve heard of them,” I said. “Some passed through Skalmarnes a few years back.”

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