Beyond a Darkened Shore(78)

“And my mind control?”

“Odin is the only one who is capable of something so powerful . . . and you.”

“Do you know much about it, then?” I asked, desperate to know more. My powers were growing and transforming—from being able to mentally control another, to separating my spirit from my body, and finally to calling upon a shadow army. It was frightening and thrilling at the same time.

“Not any more than most in my village—the only seidr we’ve experienced is the ability seers have to divine the fate of the gods, but beyond that, you’d have to ask Sigrid.” He turned to me. “You are the most powerful seidr user I’ve ever known, and it’s these abilities that will make the difference in this quest—I have no doubt about that.”

“If I can master them in time,” I said, worrying my lower lip with my teeth. “I should go speak with Sigrid.”

I started to stand, but Leif put his hand on my arm. “Tonight would be a better time,” he said. “This may be hard to believe, but watching you and Sigrid performing seidr would make the others nervous, and they’re especially superstitious on the water.”

With a snort of disbelief, I shifted so I was pressed against the hard muscles of his side. “Who knew you Northmen were so delicate?”

“We’re as fragile as petals.”

“I can see that,” I said as I watched the men around me doing various disgusting things: everything from nose-picking to urinating over the side of the ship.

I just kept my eyes on the waves, the sun beginning its descent, casting its golden-orange rays over the water. It wasn’t long before my sleepless night caught up to me, and my eyelids drooped. I stood unsteadily, not yet used to the water beneath my feet. “I believe I’ll test out that nest of furs you arranged for me,” I said to Leif.

He tried to pull me back on the bench. “Rest here with me.”

“Tempting, but I’ve never been able to sleep in the presence of others,” I said, with a nod toward the other men on board. Not only was I often plagued by nightmares, but I never felt comfortable relaxing my guard to the point necessary for sleep.

“That could become a problem for you,” he said with a grin, “but go. Enjoy your privacy.”

I smiled back at him as I picked my way carefully to the stern. Forty of my undead men parted for me, and as I passed through them, my shoulders dropped. I couldn’t find my father, but Fergus was among them, his once animated face expressionless.

I stopped to touch his cheek, sorrow biting into me so strongly my breath hitched. “How I wish I could still talk to you,” I murmured.

He didn’t respond, and I didn’t expect him to. I passed beyond the tarpaulin, and the undead men wordlessly moved into place before it, a wall of flesh between me and the rest of the men on board.

I lay down upon the soft furs and covered my eyes with my arm, letting sorrow and regret slam down upon me like waves.

When I woke next, it was so dark I had to blink several times to assure myself my eyes were open. Beside me came Leif’s soft breathing; sometime in the night he had joined me, and I could only sigh at his audacity . . . even as I was secretly glad for his company.

Something had woken me, though, and I lay for a moment, listening to see what it was. The sound came again: my name followed by the pungent smell of sage.

The seer was calling me.

I stood carefully but was pleased to see my body had already adjusted to the movement of the waves. I drew aside the tarp and froze in wonder.

The moon illuminated the ship, falling upon the resting men and joined by countless stars. The light was so beautiful, so pure, and it shimmered silver on the dark waters. I stepped forward, and the men of my army parted again for me.

The Northmen slept in long bags made of leather and trimmed in fur. Not all were sleeping—Arin and another Northman, one who was not much older than I, sat playing a game near the mast. I found Sigrid beside the cage of ravens, and the birds seemed agitated in the light of the moon. Their feathers were so ruffled they resembled blades, jagged against the night sky.

“You wish to know more of seidr,” she said, her voice just loud enough to be heard above the waves.

“I do, but more than that, I want to know how to control it.”

“There is darkness in you,” she said, and I could feel her eyes on me, “enough to destroy everything you care about. You will be a great and terrible queen.”

For a moment, her words cast a spell upon me, showing me what could be. With my own abilities and my army of men, I could rule all of éirinn. Mentally, I pulled myself free from the net of ambition. I would not fall prey to power-hungry visions. “My will is far greater than the darkness within.”

“Tell me,” the seer said from within the shadows of her robes, “is your mind control strong enough to take over the j?tunn’s mind?”

I stiffened. “How did you—”

“You have great powers, but you only use them when you’re impatient and desperate during battle. You have practiced them, but you were forced to do so and reluctant. The number of seidr abilities you have is on the same level as a god’s—mind control, sending your spirit from your body, summoning the dead—and yet you have mastered none of them.”

Then what am I supposed to do? I thought but did not say. My tongue lay limp in my mouth—dumbfounded by the seer’s words.