Page 6 of Song and Sword
Sif flushed and briefly looked down. “Truth to tell, they make a fuss over me, Mother. The Elder Sisters say that they have not seen a talent like mine for generations. They tell me that they want to make me agaldr-songvari.”
Both Astrid and Kasia sat back in surprise. Huw glanced at Brynn, who shook his head then asked, “What, pray tell, is agaldr-songvari?”
Astrid provided the answer. “It’s the old tongue, Huw. It roughly translates into ‘spellsinger.’” She took a deep drink of her mead. “No spellsingers have been seen or heard of in the Ironwood for generations.”
“Well that sounds very good!” said Huw encouragingly. “We always knew that magic ran strong in your veins.”
“It would be a high honor, Father,” answered Sif. She hesitated then added, “It would mean many years of training.”
Huw’s expression seemed frozen then passed through anger and finally into sadness. Astrid put a hand on his arm, and he covered her hand with his own. He looked at his daughter appraisingly. “Ah,” he said finally. “Your return to us here at the Jomsburg is only a visit. You are here to say goodbye.”
“What they are offering is a high honor,” murmured Astrid.
Kasia was looking at Sif with awe. “This could mean a new golden age for the Sisterhood,” she said.
Although Sif heard the words of her mother and aunt, her eyes had not left her father’s face. He seemed to have aged years in a matter of minutes. Her breath caught in her chest.
Then, slowly, a smile crept across Huw’s face. It began at his mouth then climbed up to his eyes, until the aged warrior was beaming with pride. His daughter allowed herself to breathe again.
“My dear daughter,” said Huw, his voice heavy with emotion, “I owe my life and happiness to Freyja, the goddess of the Ironwood. For you to have the opportunity to serve the goddess, and your Ironwood Sisters, in such a way…it fills my heart with pride, and joy. I could ask for no more, though”—he rubbed at the corners of his eyes—“I will miss you terribly.”
Sif could not hold herself back anymore, and with tears running down her cheeks, stood to embrace her father and mother. After a moment, Kasia joined them in their embrace, and finally Brynn, after pausing to rub at his own eyes, enveloped them all in his massive arms.
They all held each other for a long moment, until they were interrupted by a young man flinging open the door to the Wanderer, and announcing excitedly, “Thorfin and his crew have been spotted off the point!”
“My boys!” roared Brynn, disentangling himself from the others. He leaned down to give Sif a kiss on the top of her head. “Well done, lass. I’ll want to hear all about this spellsinging of yours. But for now, I want to clap my eyes on my boys, and see what Miklagard has made of them! Come, Kasia, our sons have come home!” Sweeping his cloak around his shoulders, he half dragged his wife along with him, rushing out of the tavern.
“No matter how old he may get, he’s still a thunderstorm in human form,” laughed Astrid, shaking her head. She turned and looked at her daughter. “Do you wish to go, Sif? No doubt they’ll go straight from the docks to the Hammer. You could meet him—I mean,them—there.”
Sif shook her golden head. “I think I’ll take a walk. Get some fresh air.”
Huw and Astrid smiled at each other as their daughter left the tavern.
***
Sif stood at the railing by the dock, letting the sounds of the evening wash over her. The raucous noises of laughter and celebration drifted from the doors of The Swinging Hammer; clearly, the welcome party was in full swing. The background of the sounds of human cheer mingled with the quieter but closer sounds of the water lapping against the shore, coupled with the occasional splash made by seals playing in the harbor.
“You remembered,” came a voice from behind her. Sif straightened, and was about to turn, when the voice said, “No. Don’t move. Keep your hands on the railing.”
A thrill ran up her spine as she gripped the wooden railing tightly. The voice was familiar to her, as familiar as breathing, but the years had given the voice depth and timbre.
“I wasn’t sure if you would come,” Sif said, and she hated how small her voice sounded.
She heard footsteps behind her, and then she could feel his presence; his warmth, his nearness, the scent of him, which, while it had changed in subtle ways, was undeniably him.
“Hakon,” she said, and lifted one of her hands from the railing as she began to turn for a second time.
“No,” said the Viking. “Stay exactly as you are.” He moved closer and placed his hands on hers, pressing himself into her back.
Sif arched as she felt Hakon’s body against her own. Even through the layers of clothing that separated them, she could feel his hard length pressing against her ass. She gasped. Before she could even think about it, she was pressing backwards, pushing her bottom against his groin.
No, no, no! This is not how this is supposed to go. I need to tell him my decision. But how can I think clearly?
Sif needed space, room to recover her wits and tell Hakon what she had decided after their long years apart. She tried to move yet again.
Hakon’s hand struck her bottom with a firmsmack. It was as if he had lit a sudden fire in her nether regions. Unbidden, Sif let out a whimper that had far more to do with surging desire than any kind of pain.
“Naughty girl.” Hakon’s lips were brushing against her ear, and she shivered. “Do you need a lesson in obedience?”
