bite of her salmon and let her eyes drift to the far door and the darkness beyond. “When I'm out there in the meadow, sometimes I'm overwhelmed by the beauty of this land. The flowers. The food. The endless forests. It's like a paradise, when you compare it to what we left behind in Greenland.”
“Yes,” said Dagmar, sighing, “but it is a paradise already claimed.”
Kiera frowned. “The skraelings.”
Dagmar nodded. “Although it has been over two months since their last raid, I fear that we will soon see them again.”
“I understand the concern of the parents regarding the children's safety, but I feel so sorry for Lorna and the others, not being able to run free in these beautiful surroundings. The meadow in full bloom is almost magical. The children should be out there picking flowers, rolling down the hills, playing games…”
Kiera's voice drifted away, as misty images of such games floated into her mind from another life, an earlier life, a life of carefree joy and happiness. Her skin once again grew cold. She shook her head in an attempt to clear her thoughts. She was now a member of the Svensson family, a slave but treated more like an eldest daughter. She knew Dagmar and Bjorn cared for her deeply. There was no point in thinking about the past.
Dagmar didn't notice Kiera's longing gaze, looking instead at Lorna in the distance.
“You know that's impossible. We don't know what the skraelings would do to our children should they ever meet or capture one. For their own safety, we must keep them within the village.”
“I understand,” said Kiera, “but it is still a shame.”
Dagmar nodded. “Bjorn understands that, too. That's why the elders are gathering tonight in order to discuss the details of another expedition.”
“An expedition? To where?”
“To the southwest. They are hoping to find another land that is just as fertile as here but without the skraelings, or at least with skraelings that are not as hostile as our northern neighbours.”
Kiera's eyes widened. “Do you mean we'll have to move? Again? We've only been here for two years.”
“It simply is not safe here. The skraelings are becoming bolder and more dangerous with each raid. They are not going to leave us alone until we are gone. We have already lost Gardar and Erik to their arrows and harpoons. We must do something before we lose everything.”
Kiera sighed. After two years of back-breaking work, the village was just starting to feel like a settled community.
“But moving further southwest will take us further away from your homeland.”
Dagmar frowned. “That is true. We will be more isolated than ever. But as you said, these lands are plentiful and much more fertile than Greenland, which would be our only other option if we were to move again.”
The thought of going back to Greenland sent mixed emotions tingling through Kiera. It was a barren wasteland, but it also gave her a ray of hope for the future. It was that much closer to her own homeland of Ireland.
“But what about the Stone?” asked Kiera.
“Ah, yes. the Stone was certainly a good omen. After our repairs at Leif's abandoned winter lodging, we found the Stone after a week's sail south. Seeing the Stone, we knew that we were in territory that had been previously explored by the Ancients. Our people have seen the same stones throughout northern Europe, Iceland and Greenland. We knew that if the Ancients had landed here and settled long enough to carve the Stone, then it would likely be a good place for us to land and settle as well.”
Kiera was confused. “Why were the Ancients able to live here in peace and not us?”
Dagmar shrugged and laid the sleeping baby down on a thick blanket of rabbit fur. “Perhaps things are different now. Perhaps there were no skraelings, or they were on friendlier terms with the Ancients. It's hard to say what exactly has changed since that time long ago. If the Ancients had the same problems with the skraelings as we do today, then I doubt they would have had the time to carve such an impressive stone.”
Kiera tried to rub the smoke out of her eyes. The heavy air always made her feel tired after a long day in the sun. Dagmar called for Lorna and arranged the furs into a bed on the wood slats that ran the length of the longhouse.
“It's time to go to sleep. There's no point waiting up for the men. They'll be singing and telling sagas long into the night.”
Kiera laughed as the deep, burly chorus to a well-known Odin legend rumbled through the darkened night. It was a warm, late summer evening. To further heat up the longhouse would be a waste of winter wood, so Kiera walked over to the hearth and helped douse the flames with piles of ash. The embers would keep until morning. The room was plunged into darkness, and a refreshing evening breeze swirled through the sod building.
Kiera was exhausted. Her body ached from the hard labour, but she didn't complain. Her belly was full, and her heart was warmed by the tiny hand that grabbed hold of her hair as Lorna's body curled up next to hers. She caressed the little girl's back. Life could be much worse, she thought to herself. She had a family who cared deeply for her. She was the adopted big sister of this little girl. In the villages of Iceland and Greenland, she had heard of almost unimaginable horror stories from other captured young women. The thought of what those girls had endured had kept her up many nights, and during those moments, she would utter a prayer of thanks for her situation. The whole village, in fact, was like one family. There was no choice. Without such a tight-knit community and full cooperation, survival in such a distant, foreign land would have been impossible. They were, in the truest sense, alone in another world. No one else within a month's sail cared whether they lived or died.
TWO
Kiera wasn't sure how long she had been sleeping when she was wakened by the bleating of a frightened sheep. She blinked in the absolute darkness. Silence. Must have been a dream, she thought, and rolled over. The bleating began again. And then…crackling. Something was wrong. How late was it? From the snoring on the far side of Dagmar, she knew that the meeting had ended and Bjorn had returned. She reached over Dagmar and shook the large shoulders of her master.
“Bjorn,” she whispered, “wake up. I think something is happening outside.”
Bjorn immediately sat up. It never ceased to amaze Kiera that regardless of how little sleep or how much drink Bjorn had consumed, he could somehow rouse himself in an instant. The crackling continued, and a cow now joined in the chorus of uncharacteristic sounds. Kiera heard him slip his dagger out from under his pillow. Moving catlike through the longhouse, he stopped in the centre and lightly clanked his dagger against the rock of the hearth three times. Dagmar then heard the rustling of covers, followed by the snapping on of leather armour and the gentle tinkling of metal as spears, swords and axes were quietly gathered. The men, as a unit, stepped carefully to the low doorway.
Kiera was surprised that she could see their faint outlines at the doorway, since there should have been no light on this moonless night. It was then that she knew something must be wrong. The light against the men's skin and armour flickered with a dangerous orange glow. The Viking warriors screamed with anger and horror as they burst out into the night. What followed was pure pandemonium.
The enraged yelling woke every sleeping infant in the village. The women began to shriek in panic from the confusion, the darkness only adding to their
