Kirstie

On the third day of Kirstie’s stubbornness, Inga herself brought a small morning meal. Chief Birger, Captain Kerga, and Mother Vrya walked up to the short ridge above the docks that separated the fishing boats from the actual village. It was the place people came to look out on the fjord in search of the sails of loved ones. They talked about the exiled chiefs and the men with them, and what they could do about the Vanlil invasion. Knud and the others might have found men willing to turn to them against the harsh rule of King Harald Fairhair, but they made a grave mistake in attacking the outlying farms to feed their men. Some could not get over the killing of women and children. Instead of supporting those chiefs, the men were angry and ready to fight against those chiefs. Chief Birger sent men north and the word he got back was that the same raiding happened in Varnes, Oglo, and all the way up the Frosta peninsula.

Inga and Kirstie knew none of this. They had a pleasant breakfast filled with small talk and not too much gossip. Inga began to clean up. She just reconciled to the idea that Kirstie would sit there and wait for her father if she had to wait a month or six months, when suddenly the sea began to boil in that spot. Kirstie stood and stared at the churning water. Inga stood and took a step back. She quickly looked but saw no one around in the immediate area.

The water began to lift into a waterspout that slowly shaped itself into the watery figure of a twelve-foot giant. Kirstie blinked. Inga took a couple more steps back but stopped when the giant spoke.

“Kairos.” The giant spoke to the girl as if speaking to a good friend. “Traveler.”

“Njord,” Kirstie named the giant and then shocked Inga with her next words. “Once Grandfather.” Kirstie offered the slightest bow as if the Lord of the Seas deserved no more. “But why are you here? Did you not cross over with the others, ages ago?”

“More than eight hundred years ago,” Njord said.

“Yes, and I bet Old One Eye wasn’t too happy about it,” Kirstie said.

“Frigg had to drag him,” Njord admitted with a slight grin, and Kirstie giggled. Poor Inga did not know what to think.

“But what are you doing here?” Kirstie asked again.

“Where the Waters are, my Spirit will always linger and never be far away,” Njord said. “But I am not really here. I am just reacting to the fire still loose in the world that is seeking to harm my grandson, though at the present you happen to be my granddaughter.”

“I don’t understand,” Kirstie looked down.

“Kairos. I can tell you this. You father will not be coming home. He fought bravely in Normandy and died a hero’s death. I am sorry, but now you have greater concerns.” He whispered and directed his words to Kirstie’s ears so Inga would not hear. “That Abraxas who should have gone over to the other side has sent emissaries to all the coasts. He awaits only an invitation to return to the continent where you forbade him to go. His schemes must be ended. His days are over.” Njord appeared to clear his throat and spoke up again. “I am here to give you a gift. It will be enough.”

“But grandfather. What gift are you talking about? Enough for what?”

“Just open your mouth and close your eyes and you will get a big surprise,” Njord said, and she did, trusting him with a complete trust. Njord changed into a mighty river, then a roaring stream, and last a gentle fountain of water that filled Kirstie, entering her mouth, and vanishing away.

Kirstie opened her eyes and saw that Njord was gone. She panicked and called to him. “Njord. Grandfather.” She took three quick steps and dove into the cold water. They were fully into spring, but the water was still cold with some ice in places along the shore. Inga worried when she did not see Kirstie come up right away. She began to panic.

“Kirstie,” Inga called, thinking the girl must have come up behind a skiff or fishing boat where she could not see. “Kirstie.” She got ready to jump in to look for the girl, but Kirstie popped her head out of the water right where she jumped in. She stood and walked back to shore, dripping wet.

“That was warm,” Kirstie said. “But the air is cold.” She had a blanket and wrapped herself. Poor Inga did not look like she knew what to say, do, or think. Kirstie let out a sigh. She sniffed. “We might as well go to Mother Vrya’s.”

“What about your father?” Inga asked.

Kirstie sniffed again and lifted her head as high as she could. “He won’t be coming back,” she said, and collapsed in another fit of tears. They passed another night of no supper and Kirstie crying herself to sleep.

Yasmina

Yasmina walked in the garden with her friend, al-Rahim. He was her guardian even as he guarded her father when he was a young prince, but in his way, he was also something of a grandfather figure. He always watched out for her.

Yasmina loved the garden. She drew in the sweet aroma of the flowers before she had to sit. She began to cry, though it was not as bad as when Kirstie lost her mother.

Al-Rahim knelt beside her. “Are you well? Do you feel ill?”

Yasmina shook her head. “I’m fine. It is my friend Kirstie.”

“The one with the yellow hair,” al-Rahim clarified, though he knew who she was talking about. When she was five, he followed her all around the harem looking for the girl her age who had yellow hair. She wanted to go out in the street to look for her, but of course that was not allowed.

“The one I can only meet in my dreams,” Yasmina affirmed and sniffed to hold back her tears. “First, she lost her mother, and her sister, her thralls, and her puppy. They were killed by men from over the mountains come to invade the great fjord. But her father was not there. He sailed off in his longship in search of trade and adventure, but now it seems he got caught in a fight in a foreign land and got killed. Kirstie is all alone. She is an orphan, like Inga. I wish I could be there for her.” She cried some more.

Al-Rahim thought it through and came up with a valid question. “How did she hear about her father? What evidence did she see? Maybe it isn’t so.”

Yasmina shook her head. “She was told by the ancient god Njord, the god of the sea in that place. Njord would not be mistaken about a thing like that, and he certainly would not mislead her, her being something like family and all.” Yasmina did not explain what she meant by all that, but al-Rahim caught something in what she said and quickly looked around to be sure no others might have overheard her.

“Princess. You must not talk about the ancient gods like that as if they were alive. They are dead stone and wood to be destroyed. They are not to be worshiped. If others should hear you, you might be accused of being a pagan and an infidel. Such idolatry is to be condemned by all.”

Yasmina looked around even as al-Rahim looked and she nodded her head that she understood, but then the tears came again.