With winter drawing nearer every day, the sun lingered in twilight. Despite the years spent here, she had never accustomed herself to the midnight sun of summer and the endless half-light of winter. A thin blue light filtered into the hall from the open smoke hole, combining with the hearth fire and oil lamps fluttering in their bowls around the hall. The fishy scent of the oil filled her nose, but would soon disappear after she accustomed to it. Rather than unpin her cloak, she gathered it at her neck and stared at the cleared section of the hall where the man she had rescued now lay by the wall.
His bright yellow hair stood out against the dark wool blankets piled on him. Since his rescue he had shivered from the cold and slept night and day, crying out in his nightmares of a ship going down at sea. The heartfelt terror in his voice elicited Runa's sympathy. She had endured a storm at sea once, and she and Gunnar had nearly been washed overboard. It was that dreadful trip to find help for Ulfrik, where Toki had nearly been killed and Njall, Thrand's brother, had drowned. She shuddered and put the thought aside.
Kneeling beside the man, she placed her cool hand on his forehead. Sweat moistened her palm and she smiled. "You are no longer cold, nor too hot. You are awake?"
The man's hazel eyes blinked open and struggled to focus, but finally fixed on her. The swelling on his lip had decreased, but they had become as black as coal. Cuts and bruises marred his skin, and lumps disfigured the strong shape of his face. Yet Runa recognized the youthful handsomeness beneath the damage. Even in his disheveled state, he had the face of man accustomed to command. Something in the lines between his brows and the clean trim of his beard marked him for a leader. Forming a weak smile, he spoke in a hoarse voice.
"My Valkyrie has come for me at last. I am thirsty."
Runa smiled. He certainly was used to command, but she wanted him to understand who ruled this hall. "Wait a little longer. Drink may not be what you need yet. The healer must see you first and decide."
He frowned, but it faded as if holding it consumed too much energy. "I am Konal Ketilsson, from Ireland. Your name is Runa?"
"So Konal Ketilsson, you have been awake longer than we thought. And what else have you learned in that time?"
"That you don't take me for an enemy, and your son Gunnar shares your kind heart."
Runa stood, disliking the deception and the intimacy this man seemed to presume. She struggled to keep the irritation out of her voice, though she heard a rise in its pitch. "My son felt it was his duty to sit with you during your recovery. Tell me, Konal Ketilsson, where is your real home? Irish monks live in these islands, and they sound nothing like you."
"I went to Ireland as a boy, but my family is from Rogaland in Norway." He raised his head slightly, his brow cocked. "Are you calling for the healer? I am thirsty."
Folding her arms, she sighed. "Elin, bring a mug of water."
After gulping the water, he lay back down and thanked Runa. "My ship was swamped at sea and overturned. A storm from nowhere overtook us. Two other ships sailed with mine. The winds blew us apart into the darkness. The gods sent me a broken section of deck, and I clung to it even as the splintered wood tore my hands. The water was terribly cold. So cold."
Konal drifted into silence and closed his eyes. Runa relaxed her stance, imaging the dark waters foaming madly in the blackness. She had seen it herself, and dreaded the ocean ever since. Konal had suffered her worst fears, but Fate had spared him. She knelt to retrieve the mug. "Rest now, and don't think more on it. You are under a roof now."
"The gods may have allowed me life, but in my sleep they show me the faces of my crew and fill my dreams with their screams. I wonder if rest will ever be possible again."
Patting his shoulder gently, she stood up. "I have seen my share of terrors, and can tell you the horror fades. The gods will eventually tire of tormenting your sleep."
"There are no men in this hall." His eyes flicked open, so sudden and accusatory that Runa put a hand to her neck in surprise.
"My husband is the jarl, and took the men on raids." Recovering from the surprise of his keen observation, she straightened herself and forced confidence into the volume of her voice. "They will return soon."
Konal stared at her, a slight smile on his blackened lips confusing Runa. Did he suspect the lie? She began to leave, but he called her name again.
"Your husband left his sax with you, and you wear it always. I fear the gods have placed me in a different kind of stormy sea."
"You've a lot of questions for a man who should be asking little and thanking more. Have you never seen a woman wear a sword before?" He shook his head. "Then get used to it; I won't be removing it."
Averting his eyes, he swallowed. "I apologize. I behave like an ungrateful child."
"You behave like a man who has no trust in the people who saved his life."
Konal's bruised face reddened, but his smile remained undiminished. Runa understood his mistrust, yet his openness of it bordered on arrogance.
"I have seen men saved only to be taken into slavery."
"And you would be trussed up by now had that been my desire."
Elin stumbled and pushed a bench over. The sudden crash made Runa and Konal jump. She recovered and apologized to both before returning to her work hauling empty casks outside to be returned to storage. Konal and Runa exchanged glances and laughed.
"Please sit with me a while longer. I've been on my back for days and want to sit up. Besides, I wish to amend my ill manners, and tell you more of my circumstances."
Drawing a bench to his side, she sat while Konal struggled to prop himself against the wall. Despite his pain, Runa allowed him to rise on his own. He had a face that did not hide danger, but she did not trust him enough to get too near. After several moments of adjusting position, he settled in and licked his lips. Runa called Elin for more water, which she delivered.
"My brother's name is Kell and he is my twin. See me and you see him. My sister's husband, Hrut, traveled with us from Ireland. We each commanded a ship with forty-man crews."
"Large ships," Runa said, adjusting the sax across her lap so it hung at her side. "You are wealthy, then?"
"My father is wealthy, and he is generous with his sons." He winked, but Runa held her expression flat. Clearing his throat, he continued. "In the storm that wrecked me, even ships so large were like the dry twigs fed to your hearth. Thor saw us on the water, and his anger was fierce. From nowhere clouds gathered and winds roared. You know what happened then."
Runa nodded. As Konal recounted the storm, he seemed to be looking inside himself, seeing the disaster repeat. How well she knew that torment, though Konal had not told her more than she already knew. "Where were you sailing and why were you risking these waters during the start of winter? You must know Thor detests our winters and rages unexpectedly."
He shrugged, then sucked his breath as he reacted to a pain in his side. "We were sailing for home, for the reasons you stated. No one wants to be at sea during the winter in these waters."
"You are in the Faereyar Islands. Did you know that?" Konal paused, a moment of shock showing on his face. "Why would you be here?"
"Our route took us past these islands, but the storm must have pushed me farther north to your land." He rubbed his side again and fell silent.
"Konal Ketilsson, you want me to trust you but you fail to answer my questions. Why are you in these waters? Only traders or pirates come this far north. Which are you?"
He laughed, but his smile faded when he saw Runa did not share the humor. "Some of my father's men had betrayed him and stolen an item of great value. We learned these men had fled to Norway and hunted them there. But we found their hall burned and all the men slain."