Chapter 2
Annika sat by the fire, the blade she polished seeming to hum to her gentle caress. Each loving swipe of the cloth brought both pain and pleasure to Annika’s heart. The blade was her father Gunvar’s, and thinking of him brought tears, pain, and anger, each teardrop creating a halo of color on the silver surface.
“Father,” she whispered, moving the cloth to and fro. Her motion driving the pain she felt further into the blade, strengthening her resolve to use its power to cut down those who had killed her father. The blade hummed louder, letting Annika know it would do what it was made for.
“You treat that blade like a lover,” Peder observed, placing his hand over Annika’s, stopping her motion.
“It is the instrument of my revenge,” she corrected him.
Softly, Peder spoke, leaning in closer to this woman who had become the daughter and son he’d never had, “Annika, they are just soldiers, like you and me. Two sides of the same coin.”
“No,” Annika countered, her anger drying her tears. “They are all devils, murderers.”
“Your loss has twisted your logic,” Peder responded, hoping to deflect and redirect her anger. He feared her rage would overcome her common sense, her sense of fairness and honesty. Yes, it had been difficult for her to lose her father, the man she loved and idolized.
Peder missed his friend, also. It was out of love and friendship that Peder took Annika in, gave her the sword he’d rescued from where her father, Gunvar, had fallen, in that land far away from his home. The story they told of Gunvar did not match the reality of the man he had known.
When the stories were carried back, Annika had become withdrawn, then she’d approached Peder saying, “Teach me the way of a warrior so that I can avenge the death of my father and put to rest the lies they tell about him.”
Peder tried to dissuade her, questioning the idea of teaching her, but her determination won out. Now, Peder followed his young charge, fighting and guiding her as best he could.
Of all those on the march, only Peder could speak to Annika this way. Stall her anger and unreasoning determination when it grew too strong. Any of the others would’ve found themselves on the ground, the blade’s point at their throat.
“They are all not evil, Annika,” Peder continued. “Yes, we kill each other in battle, but we are not all killers. Many who fight on the field of battle would be friends with his foe if circumstances were different. Yes, those who die in battle are rewarded at the table, but not all are meant to be warriors ’til death. Some are meant to be part of and have families.”
Annika stared at Peder, then at the blade. She knew he spoke the truth, but how she missed her father. Tears threatened again as she softly said, “There was only one, one who was kind, he would not...” she trailed off, remembering as she replayed the day so long ago. The young boy walking into her path from out of the sun’s glare.
“Are you with the traders?” he’d asked in her own language.
So happy to hear those words, her heart had immediately opened, bringing a bright, golden light of joy that must have shown in her eyes. She’d nodded then asked, “How come you to speak my language?”
“We’ve had traders before and I listened, but you’re the first near my age.”
Shaking her head at the loss of that precious time, Annika heard Peder ask, “Would not what?”
“He would never be so treacherous. But that was long ago and far away. I will never see him or his like again,” Annika spoke, the longing in her voice a living thing.
“There could be others like him,” Peder said gently. “Fight your fight, continue to be brave on the field, but save your hate for the true enemy, whoever they may be,” Peder advised, squeezing Annika’s shoulder, smiling his sad smile.
The blade vibrated to the truth of Peder’s words. So far, it had not failed her on her quest for the truth, nor on the field of battle. She knew if she listened to it, she would find what she was seeking Yes, she’d lost her father and now was in danger of losing her way.
Exhaling, her shoulders relaxing, Annika sheathed the blade, placing it down next to her. She’d no fear of it being taken, for no one could hold the blade but her, once Peder had placed it in her hands. Many had tried, for it was the envy of countless warriors, but it burned their hands. Some, despite the pain of the heat, persisted only to have the sword swing of its own accord, nicking the holder and drawing blood if they did not loosen their hold.
Peder remained by her side. There was an easy silence between them as Annika took in Peder’s words. They had been together since the news of her father’s death. It was then she put aside thoughts of settling down, marrying, and having a home, and chose the path of justice. It was one thing for her father to die in battle, it was another to be cut down without warning and be branded a killer.
“It happened too quickly for you, did it not?” Peder quizzed gently.
Annika nodded. She knew what he referred to. One moment she was on a trading mission with her father, and the next, she was alone in the world. That last trip was the first time her father had not wanted her with him.
“Stay here, little one,” her father had told her, “this will be a short trip.” That had hurt, even more now that he was gone. Perhaps if she had been there, she could have done something, or could have died with him.
Shaking her head, she answered, “Yes, but perhaps it was just life’s cruel joke.”
“Annika, never believe that those loving years with your father were anything but special,” Peder chided.
They had talked around the subject since Annika had begged him to train her after the blade had come into her possession. She would always change the subject. She knew her father would be proud of her desire to find his killer, but she also knew he’d be sad that she was forgoing the joy and love she’d had for the world.
“It still hurts, and will continue to do so until...” Annika stopped, for fear that her words might not be the truth. What if finding and punishing Gunvar’s killers did not stop the hurt, the loss?
“Annika,” Peder said, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder, “I know you trust the blade, but know that you will always miss your father. Have faith it will find and punish his killers. Your father had faith, and with the winter season coming upon us, it may take still longer to find the truth.”
Peder continued to watch Annika, praying in his own way she’d take his words to heart. He’d watched her grow from a sweet child to a determined young girl and into a warrior worthy of the honor of being called a Shieldmaiden. There were few who could do what she did on the field of battle, and still be capable of reaching into her own humanity. He had stayed by her side, guiding and, in his own way, becoming a surrogate for the father she had lost.
Pulling the older man close, Annika said, laying a hand on his arm, “Thank you for always being with me, Peder, and continuing to keep me true,” she finished with a sad smile.
Peder covered her hand, nodding his assent to her words. “Now,” patting her arm, “who knows what tomorrow may bring, and we need to be ready. Our enemy knows the winter is upon us and of the need to win.”
“True,” Annika said, moving away from Peder’s arm to prepare for the night’s rest, for they both knew everything could change in the blink of an eye.