Outcast
Today I will die.
Ailia stirred in her sleep, trying to awaken herself from this recurring maredream she had come to fear even more than the most ruthless barbarian.
Helpless to stop the events from unfolding, she carefully peeled back the distressed linen curtain of the humble two-room longhouse, and glanced out the window.
It is just a dream.
A trail of black smoke followed the Surtorians, the Empress of Darkness’s, agents. The dark, billowing clouds transformed Whiteheim’s normally peaceful surroundings to a battlefield of ashes and bones.
Empress Eiess’ longships had arrived at the harbor right after dawn, and she would burn the city to the ground unless Ailia surrendered herself. No one but Ailia’s family knew who Ailia was, and most did not even know that such an evil being as the Empress of Darkness existed.
Eiess found us again.
No, it is but a dream!
Ailia had been hiding out in Whiteheim with her husband, mother and daughter for the past few months, but now it became clear to her, that no matter where they hid in Midgard, Eiess would track them down.
“They’re almost here! You must leave! Leave now, with Freydis before the Surtorians find us!” Ailia yelled to her mother, Edna. Ailia’s heart hammered like rhythmic thunder, as if it was threatening to burst through her chest.
“Oh, may the gods be merciful today!” she whispered. Her husband should have been back by now, and without him here, they had little chance of survival.
Suddenly, Ailia woke up with a gasp. It was still dark in the longhouse, but she could hear her aunt, Unni, working in the kitchen. She breathed a sigh of relief, realizing she had awoken before the worst had come to her. However, she could not quite shake the thoughts and feelings she always had after this maredream. And even though it had ended so abruptly, it had a little more earthly weight to it than the other times she had dreamt it.
I must keep myself hidden from The Empress of Darkness. I need to find this man who was my husband, so we can… What was it they needed to do? It had seemed so utterly important just a moment ago. The feeling of urgency began to dwindle as the details faded away.
She shook her head to try and get any remnants of the frightful vision out of her mind. The fear of a horrible empress pursuing her always seemed to be the hardest feeling to shake, even though she knew it was not real.
Ailia flung the heavy reindeer fur off her slender body and sat up in bed. Her white underdress had bunched up to her hips, so when she rose, she wiggled her body until the skirt fell back down to her ankles where it belonged.
She went to the wooden basin, splashed some water on her face, and patted her skin dry with the frayed linen towel. After she had pulled on her pea-green, wool overtunic, she threw the rust red wool shawl over her narrow shoulders. Fall was officially here and in the past few weeks the mornings and evenings had turned unreasonably cold, so she needed to bundle up inside as well as outside. The brutal northern winter was approaching all too quickly.
“What would you have me do?” Ailia asked, entering the small kitchen. As always, the room was stocked with pots, pans, ladles and various types of fruits and vegetables. She grabbed her white work scarf and secured her waist-length auburn hair with it.
“Good morning,” Unni said. Her strawberry-blond, gray-streaked hair was also tied up in a scarf. “The carrots need cleaning.” She pointed to a heap of the dirt-covered vegetables on the oak countertop.
Unni looked much better after having gained some weight over the summer. She had become terribly thin last winter when their food storage ran out a month before the last of the snow melted. But as spring turned into summer and summer surrendered to fall, yielding a bounteous harvest, Unni’s cheeks grew rosier, her breasts became fuller, and her smile returned.
“Yes, Aunt Unni,” Ailia said, picking up the first carrot.
“I couldn’t have asked for a sweeter girl than you.” She hugged Ailia generously, like she always did at the start of a new day.
‘Fiery, but too kind,’ were the words Uncle Brander frequently used to describe her. “Ailia needs to stand up for herself more,” he had also said once. She had hated how he had said that because she felt he was calling her naïve, and being naïve was the same as being obtuse—at least as far as Ailia was concerned.
“Do you think I am naïve?” Ailia asked.
“Heavens, girl. Where did that question come from all of a sudden?” Unni asked.
“Uncle Brander says I’m fiery, but too kind.” Ailia frowned.
“You are kind, not naïve, and just the right amount of kind. And the fiery side of you helps balance you out.”
Ailia smiled. She could always count on Unni to know what to say to make her feel better.
“But remember, we love you no matter what,” Unni said.
Ailia sat down and started to clean the carrots. The hearth’s flames burned eagerly in the center of the floor, heating the chilly room and warming her cold body.
“Where is Sigrid?” Ailia asked. Usually their thrall was up by now, busy cleaning.
Brander and Unni had bought Sigrid from a group of Nomads when she was twelve years old, and years before Ailia had been adopted. Although Sigrid was their thrall, they treated her more like a family member, allowing her to sleep inside the longhouse, eat at their table, and even speak at will. Sigrid had never married, probably due to her limp leg and labored gait caused by her left leg being significantly shorter than the other. Ailia thought Sigrid would make a wonderful wife and mother, being the caring person she was. Perhaps it was God’s will she be nothing more than a slave girl, just as it was God’s will Ailia’s never know her birth parents.
“I sent her out to fetch some more water for the stew,” Unni said, glancing up at Ailia.
As Ailia kept working in silence, her thoughts wandered back to the maredream. Why had she started having them the day she turned seventeen? Was God punishing her for something she had done or failed to do? Were the old gods punishing her for betraying them and investigating the Christian faith? Was she going mad? The last thought frightened her more than she dared to admit.
Unni started placing potatoes into a wicker basket. “You look worried. Is everything all right?”
Ailia sighed. “I had a maredream again last night.”
“The same one you have had before?” Unni asked as she wiped the sweat off of her forehead and onto her ivory linen sleeve.
“Yes,” Ailia said. “Thankfully I woke up before the worst of it this time.”
“Describe it to me. Sometimes God sends us messages in times of great need.”
Ailia hesitated for a moment. She had expected the dream to vanish on its own, and fearing she would be branded insane, she had never shared the entire dream with anyone. However, it had not disappeared, but only become more frightening with time.
“I am afraid if I share it with you, you might think I have gone mad,” Ailia said.
Unni laughed a little. “Your uncle and I have known you ever since you were brought to us by Ivar on a winter solstice day seventeen years ago,” she said. “Indeed, you are a special girl. But never have I seen a speck of madness in you.”
Perhaps Unni could help decipher its meaning.
“All right.” Ailia picked up another carrot and sighed deeply. She recounted the dream, and after she had done so, said, “It’s so terrifying that I wake up trembling.”
“You’re still trembling,” Unni said, chopping the vegetables for the stew. “Make sure you get all the dirt off the carrots. Was that the whole dream?”
“Yes,” Ailia said, trying to stop her hands from shaking.
“And do you die at the end every time?”
“Yes,” Ailia said, pausing from cleaning the carrots. “Except for today when I woke up early.”
“Keep cleaning. You are thinking too much on the dream. Today is the Late Summer Festival and if this stew is not ready in the next two hours, we will be the laughing-stock of the town,” Unni said slightly mockingly. “We need to have the festival meal prepared before the day starts. I don’t want to be cooking in this kitchen when we could be listening to stories or participating in the festivities. And Uncle Brander gets home soon and he’ll want breakfast right away.”
Ailia picked up her pace again and continued. “I actually did not know the empress’ name until this last time. Her name is Eiess.”
“Interesting,” Unni said.
“She always tells me how glad she is to have finally found me and that now I only have one more life to live.” Ailia sighed.
“Hmmm…”
“Have you ever heard of Eiess?” Ailia asked, watching her aunt’s expression carefully.
“No.” Unni wiped her hands on her rough linen apron. “Potatoes next,” she prompted.
Ailia started cleaning the potatoes, pondering on another unusual dream. “Iluxia told me I have lived before.” She held her breath, worried what Unni might say, worried she might have shared too much.
“Who?” Unni raised an eyebrow.
“The leader of the lightelves, Iluxia. He told me in a dream a few weeks ago.”
The dream where Ailia had met Iluxia had fortunately not been a frightening one. She had spoken to him outside the Alvheim entrance—one of the other eight realms she knew little of—and had told her she needed to hurry and realize who she was. It confused Ailia more than anything, because recently she had started believing more in the Christian faith. And the Christians didn’t believe in nine realms. Only one heaven and one hell.
“Who I am?” Ailia had asked, thinking she was just a girl living in Bergendal, trying to do her best in fulfilling her duties as a peasant and in honoring her family.
Iluxia had smiled. “You have a grand purpose in life, Ailia. Much grander than just being a peasant,” he had said. “And although you might not have a complete recollection of it, I do not believe I am mistaking when I say your spirit senses this is not your first life.”
How did he know? He was right, of course, but it shocked her. Something told her she had lived before, although it made no sense. She had wanted to find out what he meant and what he knew, but she had woken up before she could ask.
Unni smiled. “But our new faith tells us that humans live only once and that is it. You know that, Ailia.”
Ailia did not know what to believe and she remained silent for a long time. Finally she said, “I hope I never dream of Eiess again. Just thinking of her makes me feel as if I’m going to die at any moment.” She moved on to cleaning the next gnarly potato.
“Will you fetch me the ladle over there?” Unni asked, pointing toward it.
Ailia went over and picked it up. Perhaps Unni did not understand how vivid these dreams were and that is why she so easily dismissed them. “These dreams are not like other dreams. They are visions revealing I have a very important purpose in life.”
“We all have an important purpose,” Unni said. “And to please God is the most important.”
Ailia smiled. “I know. But there’s something more to these dreams, something I cannot explain.”
“Maybe you’re having them because of the Vik attack,” Unni said.
“Maybe,” Ailia replied. The Vik people had recently raided Bergendal. Fortunately the city was the largest in the Northlandic Kingdom and the king’s guard had managed to fight them off before they plundered too much and caused grievous damage. “I cannot say those attacks have not affected me.” But Ailia knew Unni was not grasping what she was trying to explain. And how could she? There was no way she could describe to her aunt exactly what she had seen or what she had felt.
“And with Queen Maud’s funeral yesterday, the mare demons have certainly been active around here,” Unni said. “Those mare demons…” She shook her head and huffed. “I wish they would just leave us alone.”
Unni had always said that maredreams came from mare demons whispering frightening words and conveying evil thoughts into peoples’ ears while they were sleeping. Ailia doubted the mare demons were to blame for her dreams.
“How did Queen Maud die exactly?” Ailia asked, dumping her carrots into the stew. No one had really spoken of it, and the only thing Ailia had heard was that all the neighbors were saying that unless the queen received a proper Norse burial, her spirit would continue to haunt Bergendal and be cursed forever. She felt sorry for the queen, the king, and especially for princess Lucia. People should show more concern instead of spreading lies about the deceased.
“I heard she fell down a set of stairs, and since she was expecting a child, it had been so much worse,” Unni said.
“You met her once, didn’t you?” Ailia asked as she sat down on a wooden stool Brander had just finished making.
“Yes,” Unni said, stirring the pot. “She came to our farm exactly one year to the day after you had been brought to our doorstep. She said she had lost one of her dogs, and asked to search our farmlands for him. After some time, she knocked on our front door again. I brought you out with me because you had started crying the moment the queen arrived and would not stop no matter what I did. She asked if she could hold you and I said yes. Even after all these years I remember the keen look in her eyes as she cradled you in her arms.”
Ailia had heard this story so many times but never grew tired of hearing it. “And then what?”
“The queen asked me when you were born. I told her the gods had blessed us and that a guard had brought you to us on winter solstice day. She said her daughter, Princess Lucia, was born on the exact same day and that she was looking for a friend for Lucia. Yet, she never returned.”
“I don’t remember meeting her at all,” Ailia said.
Unni added the potatoes to the cauldron. “Of course you don’t. You were only a one-year-old then. That was the only time I ever met her. She seemed like a sad person, like she had some deep, dark hidden pain buried deep inside.”
“Why do you think she was so sad?” Ailia asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Unni said. Then she smiled mischievously. “Maybe she was worried she would never get her daughter married off!”
That was a strange thing to say, Ailia thought. “Yes, that would be something to—“ Suddenly realizing what, or rather who her aunt was talking about, she huffed. “You’re talking about me.”
“If you would just accept one of the suitors we have introduced you to, I would die of happiness,” Unni said with a sigh.
Lately, and to Ailia’s great dismay, their conversations always ended on this subject.
“I don’t want to get married to just anyone,” Ailia said. “I have someone special waiting for me.”
“Oh really? So you think you have a say in whom we choose for you to marry?” Unni asked, looking at Ailia, raising her right eyebrow.
Ailia leaned across the wooden counter top. “Of course I do. I will let you know when I meet him, my soul mate,” she said.
“And what do you know about soul mates?” Unni asked.
“Plenty.”
“Do enlighten me,” Unni pressed.
“For starters, I know that I have one,” Ailia said. “In my dreams, I get the distinct impression that I need to find him so we can join together to…do something important.”
Unni laughed. “Just let us know when you meet him then. We will want to be included in the dramatic marriage. But, if we find you a proper husband before then, you’ll be marrying him.”
Ailia grimaced. This past year, several suitors had tried to win her heart, but none of them had interested her in the least. Most of them had attempted to impress her with their brute behavior, showing off how great their hunting and fighting skills were. Ailia saw nothing noble with that type of conduct at all. It reminded her too much of the Vik men who had pillaged their city. She was beginning to think that she was being too particular, especially since nearly all of the young women her age in the neighboring farms had been married off years ago.
Thankfully, Unni and Brander had not forced her to marry anyone yet, but Brander had started to seem a little impatient with Ailia and had even introduced her to three different men this last week.
* * *
After all the preparations for the day had been made, and after she had eaten the late summer festival meal at Brandersgaard, Ailia was allowed to go to the festival. She had not told Unni how her friends had distanced themselves from her after she had become interested in the Christian religion, and even more so after she had hinted about her maredreams. Maybe they didn’t know how to treat her, thinking she was a little crazy. And she couldn’t truly blame them, since even she thought her dreams were crazy. However, she decided that these dreams were not going to prevent her from having a good time and living her life to the fullest. And if she didn’t mention her dreams anymore or her fascination with Christianity, her friends would probably forget about them and everything would be back to normal.
Excited to get out of the longhouse, she slipped on her fine hunter green wool tunic and grabbed her sheep mask on the way out.
“I shall be there shortly!” Unni hollered after her.
The first place Ailia wanted to go was to the masked dance at the Fest Hall. It was the town’s largest longhouse, and their communal place for meetings, governing assemblies, and festivities. It looked like a gigantic dome-covered longship with a straw thatched roof.
Ailia loved to attend dances, and she had not missed one since she had turned twelve, the age where all young maidens were allowed to participate in their first official festival.
When she arrived at the Fest Hall, fiddlers and musicians with falster pipes, lures, and drums were at the end of the hall warming up their instruments. To her surprise, the entire room was empty except for three other people. One of them was wearing a goat mask and the two others were wearing cow masks.
She sat down to wait on one of the benches that lined the eastern wall, hoping her friends would arrive soon. A small part of her feared they would oust her from their circle or ignore her completely, but she pushed the thought aside, telling herself she was being unreasonable. She had known these girls her entire life. Surely, they wouldn’t discard her that easily.
Noticing how the three other attendees were glancing over at her, she smiled and waved. They turned their backs without even acknowledging her.
Strange, she thought. Most Bergendalers were very warm and welcoming.
“Are you the girl who’s cursing Bergendal with all these mare demons?” a young redheaded boy, wearing a dog mask asked.
“What?” Ailia said, feeling her cheeks turn hot.
“My big sister says you are a bad omen, and she says you are cursing Bergendal by bringing all these mare demons here,” the young boy continued.
Now she recognized the boy. He was one of Ailia’s friend’s younger brothers—Siri’s brother. “I am not cursing Bergendal with anything,” she said, a knot growing in her stomach. She folded her arms across her chest and frowned.
“My father says maredreams are messages from the dark realms, and that you are attracting beings from the dark realms here to Bergendal because you are a traitor to the gods. He says you are cursed.” He pointed his finger at her. “Cursed!”
“Stop that!” Ailia said, feeling her pulse rise. “You are embarrassing yourself, and you are embarrassing me!”
“You are cursed!” he yelled, still pointing his finger at her. “Cursed!”
A few others arrived and stopped to stare. Ailia thought it strange that no one came over and reprimanded the misbehaving boy or came to stand up for her. Finally, Siri came over. Her light ash brown hair was pulled up in a braided up-do.
“Is it true? Did you tell your brother I’m a bad omen?” Ailia asked her.
“I thought you knew by now, Ailia. We all believe that,” she said, stepping next to her brother. She squinted her eyes and her lips. “You are a bad omen—and cursed.”
Ailia’s mouth dropped open, but even so, it was difficult to take a breath. Finally, she managed to say, “I cannot believe how shallow you are, holding my dreams against me,” she said. “I cannot control what I dream.”
“No, you cannot. The mare demons do,” Siri said.
Ailia stared at her in disbelief.
“My father has told me to stay away from you and your new crucified god. I should have realized you are cursed sooner. I mean, even your name is so strange,” she said.
“My name?” She knew her name was different, but what did it have to do with her being cursed?
Ailia looked around the hall, and everyone who had arrived was intently listening in on their conversation. Even the musicians had stopped warming up their instruments and glared at her across the murky room.
“Our chieftain won’t be happy to hear about any of this,” Siri said. “He’ll be here soon, and if you stay, I’ll tell him everything you told me.”
Tears burned behind her eyes, and not wanting to continue to make a scene, she turned on her heals and headed for the exit. How could Siri have ever claimed to be her friend? How could she be this cruel? They had known each other for five years, and Ailia had worked so hard to help Siri feel welcome in Bergendal when her family moved here from another town.
“Don’t think this is over, Christian!” Siri yelled after her. “You must turn from your ways, or I will make sure you will be banned from Bergendal for good!”
She ran out the door and set her course toward the Bergendal forest—the shortcut home. She swallowed her tears back again and again as the cool autumn wind streamed across her face. Arriving at the edge of the forest, she followed the thin, snaking path, winding her way between soaring pine trees, moss-covered rocks, and fallen twigs. Sprinting as fast as her legs would carry her, she whipped the branches away as she distanced herself from the festival, wanting nothing but to leave the memory behind. She didn’t care that her lungs burned. She didn’t stop when her legs tired. She had to get away. Far, far away from the humiliation and hate.
Hopping across the narrowest part of the Bergendal River, she stepped on the black and green rocks protruding above the rushing water. She ignored the people on their way to the merriments, and she didn’t even stop when she ran into Unni. She just needed to find a quiet place to think, to clear her mind and find her balance again.
When she reached Brandersgaard, she stormed inside and slammed the door shut behind her. Leaning her back against the dense oak door, she finally allowed her body the rest.
The hearth was still burning in the center of the room, and it smelled of the delicious food Unni and she had prepared earlier. Now she noticed how her hands were freezing, and the tips of her ears numb. Winter was coming, and there would only be a few more warm days left before snow and ice would blanket the land, sending nature into a deep sleep. Northlandic winters were long, cold, and brutal, and most citizens spent the dark months indoors.
Once her heart was no longer pounding viciously in her chest, she sat down in the rocking chair by the loom, and started embroidering on the tablecloth she had almost finished. Sewing usually calmed her.
“Is everything all right?” Unni asked, coming in the front door.
“I’m sick,” Ailia said sullenly, not looking up. “Please, just go to the festival. I’ll be fine.”
Unni opened her mouth to speak and it looked as if she would try to talk Ailia into going. But then she said, “Very well. Are you sure I cannot help you with anything before I go?”
“No, I just need to rest,” Ailia said. “There will be many more festivals like this one for me to attend.” She glanced up and forced her lips to curl upward into a smile. Unni turned around and left. But something told Ailia she would not be attending any festivals for a long, long time.
She stopped sewing, let the tablecloth fall to her lap, and began to sob.