Asvald rose quickly. “What is it you want?” he asked in the low, silky whisper he used with others.

“I’ll take those herbs,” the second man said.

These weren’t the men we had spoken to earlier. Both of these men had icy beards and wore packs on their backs, as if they had traveled here from elsewhere.

“They said you’re a mystic whose magic cures men,” the man holding me said. “You will come with us, or I will kill your bitch.”

I was perfectly still, my thoughts flashing between my twins and the desire to smash these people like Batu would.

“I will go with you,” Asvald said. “Is someone ill?”

“Come.” The second man bent and slammed the trunk’s lid down before snatching it up.

“We need those!” I exclaimed.

The captor with the knife at my throat pressed the edge against my skin, drawing blood.

“Do not worry, Yosee,” Asvald said. “Do not fight them.”

“Listen to your mystic, bitch,” the second man said.

“Leave her. I will go with you,” Asvald addressed the men.

“Come, if you want her to live!” one of the men snarled.

The man holding me dragged me away, towards the forest.

I didn’t resist, sensing it would be futile anyway. These men had the herbs we needed to hopefully bring down Liev’s fever. I wasn’t about to return empty handed.

Asvald followed us. With his hood up, his features were hidden, and I couldn’t read him. Would he fight these men? Poison them? Bribe them?

Help them? Of all the options, I thought he might try to help first, harm second. He did not kill unless necessary, and in his heart, he wanted to make a difference, or he would have never followed a career path that demoralized him for who he was. He did nothing for himself.

With luck, we’d help these people and walk away with the herbs we needed. I trusted Asvald.

I glanced at the sky. It would be dark soon. I didn’t mind walking home at night with Asvald to guide me, but I didn’t intend to be gone longer than the day. My twins had milk; I made a habit of pumping extra when they slept in case we needed it. Sigrid stored it in the bank of snow behind the house. If anything happened to Sigrid, if bears or wolves attacked, if Bjorn got lost in the forest trying to be the man of the house, if another blizzard blew into the region …

The scenarios in my mind added to my fear about the strangers and their intentions.

The two men led us into the forest, around the fjord and to a cave at the base of the rise leading up to the top of the cliffs. The cave’s warm fire was visible through the darkening forest long before we reached it. My nose wrinkled as we crossed the threshold into the area. It smelled like … death. Mounds marking the burial places of the dead lay beyond the members of what I guessed were three families. Several women, children of various ages, teenagers …

It had to be the empathic memory chip that sent alarms swirling through me. It was the strongest signal of danger yet. The whisper it emitted around the men who took us hostage had turned to an all-out scream.

But it was the mounds in the cave that had my attention riveted.

I froze, recalling a time when I had been in a similar cave, where people had been buried. Fighting Badger, the Native American who was Taylor’s grandfather, had lived in exile in a place like this. He murdered people and buried them in his cave, because he wanted to talk to their spirits when he was lonely.

I hadn’t thought of him in quite a while, but the similarity of this cave to his made me dizzy, sent me into the place between times, when my mind floated away and my senses filled with confusion, where I no longer understood where I was.

I slid to the ground. Someone caught me, and I struggled out of the side effects of temporal displacement.

“Yosee,” Asvald’s whisper was concerned.

See me, feel me, smell me. Batu’s chant rattled around my mind.

I drew a deep breath and focused on the sensations around me: the warmth of fire, the scent of disease, Asvald’s scarred features, hidden behind his hood.

“I’m fine,” I told him with a weak smile.

One of the men snatched him and yanked him away.

It took me another moment to fully integrate to where I was. Sitting up, I looked over the people in the cave. They were gaunt and showing the signs of malnutrition. Compared to the residents of our cabin, everyone here appeared ill or starved. Not for the first time, I was grateful for how hard Asvald and Sigrid worked to ensure we had food.

I folded my legs beneath me and sat against the uneven wall, observing the people. Asvald was pushed to the area of the cave between the death mounds and the living, where he knelt. One of the men dropped his trunk beside him with no concern whatsoever about the delicate nature of the herbs inside.

When I felt well enough, I stood and crossed to them under the sharp gaze of two of the other men. The women and children were quiet, huddled around the fires. Not one of them would meet my eye.

Three people were stretched out on the ground, a little girl, a teen boy and a woman. They were pale to the point of dead, their breathing ragged, their eyes closed. My heart went out to them, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the fastest way to ditch this creepy cave.

“They are diseased, Yosee. This is the illness Liev suffers from,” Asvald said, glancing at me.

“Tell me how to help,” I replied. It was not the time to tell him I was immune to diseases. Kneeling beside him, I watched him remove the items from his trunk.

“I need water,” he told one of the men.

A teen boy seated beside the fire scrambled up and brought him a wooden cup of water.

Asvald began selecting and grinding herbs. His hands trembled, and I frowned. I had yet to see the mystic fearful or shaken. Was he ill and didn’t want to tell me?

Was something else wrong? Had he already figured out what my instincts were trying to tell me?

One of the men paced while another remained vigilant, his weapons drawn in case we ran.

“They’ll let us go, once we’ve helped, won’t they?” I whispered.

Asvald’s gaze settled on the man with weapons. “Notice anything about this cave?” he asked rather than answering directly.

I looked around but could see nothing of interest or to explain what he and my instincts had picked up on. The few possessions of those living here were piled into open trunks on either side of the cave. Makeshift beds stretched out around the fire. I spotted weapons throughout the people, which was no surprise, given who they were. A barrel of water was located beside the entrance.

“Nothing strange,” I replied. “What is it?”

Asvald lifted his chin towards the mounds at the back of the cave but didn’t have the chance to answer.

“Quiet!” One of the men said and smacked him on the back of the head. “You better have the favor of Odin, mystic!”

“He does,” I replied quickly. “He’s the most gifted mystic in the country.”

A hopeful murmur went around the cave.

“And she speaks directly to Freyja,” Asvald added. “Together, we will save your people.”

It was an unusually confident statement from the king of understatement whose hands trembled.

The two men who kidnapped us almost smiled and looked to the women I assumed were their wives at the fire. For the first time since we entered, a couple of those people at the fire peered in the direction of Asvald and me, while several of them whispered.

“Do not leave my side,” Asvald hissed as he shifted to attend to the youngest of the diseased.

I didn’t understand what he saw that I didn’t but tried to find it once more. Not from this time, I wouldn’t view these people the same way he did. I saw a group of starving people in need of more kinds of help than we could possibly give. They definitely didn’t have the grain we wished to find.

Perhaps, if he saved these three, they’d let us go.

Asvald handed me a wooden cup and motioned to the woman. I knelt beside her, propped her head up, and placed the cup to her lips. She stirred. Her eyes were glazed, her skin almost blue; she was near death.

Fear fluttered through me. Could Asvald cure the near dead? Were his herbs that strong? He had helped me after the accidental poisoning, but an antidote was different than reversing an illness.

Asvald went to the teen boy and helped him drink as well before standing.

“Are any others ill?” he asked one of the men.

“Two others.”

“There is a chance you are all ill,” Asvald said with a frown. “If I cure them, more may still fall ill.”

“Then you will cure us all,” was the firm response.

There was no way in hell Asvald and his small trunk of herbs was going to save everyone in this cave. And no way I was sticking around to ensure everyone lived when my children were alone in the forest half a day’s walk from here.

As if Asvald were thinking the same, he hesitated.

One of the men snatched my arm and placed the knife to my throat again.

“I will do it!” Asvald said. “You cannot hurt her. She holds special favor with the gods. She will pray for blessings while I cure your people.”

The man lowered the knife an inch.

Asvald stretched forward and took my arm, pulling me away from him. “Do you have more cups? More water?”

The man moved after a moment and motioned for the teen boy who helped earlier to act.

“Stay with the ill. Give them all another sip of herb water,” Asvald told me. “Pray for them. Use your special connection to the gods.”

I had no idea what he was talking about, but I nodded. He sensed a threat I didn’t understand. It had to be something in addition to the armed men who seemed ready to snap at any moment. My empathic memory chip tried to warn me without revealing what the danger was.

But I trusted Asvald with my life. If he said to treat his patients and pray, I’d call fervently upon every one of his gods.

Kneeling beside the woman again, I lifted her head gently and helped her sip more water. One of the men stayed with me, staring at the back of my head hard enough for me to shiver.

Asvald went to the teen boy, who had collected all the drinking receptacles and was filling them with water. The mystic knelt beside the cups and began sprinkling herbs into them. He paused twice to crush more herbs.

When finished, I stayed beside the little girl, no more than five, whose breathing rattled in her chest. She reminded me enough of Liev, my eyes watered. He had not been much different when I left him. Did he even have a chance at this point? Asvald and I had no choice but to leave to try and find herbs, whose abilities I wasn’t completely convinced of. In this place and time, however, they were all we had.

I rested a hand on the girl’s hot forehead and bowed my head to pray. If there were a god, or gods, I hoped they heard me asking them for help.

When finished, I couldn’t help looking towards the mounds once more. In Fighting Badger’s cave, I had been able to read the last memories of the dead, thanks to the malfunctioning empathic memory chip that almost caused my head to explode. Even Carter hadn’t known how powerful the chip was when he committed illegal brain surgery on me without my permission. The chip had ultimately malfunctioned but not before it revealed to me the terrifying capability of hearing the dead.

You’re an asshole, Carter, I thought, angry with him again.

I was tense, waiting for the memories of the dead to haunt me again. Part of me wanted to venture closer to the burial mounds, to test the chip, while most of me wanted to run away as fast as possible.

“You must not drink too much,” Asvald was telling the others. “These herbs are powerful, and they must last until each of you has taken them.”

The man watching me shifted towards the others. Several of the people stood eagerly to be the first to take their medicine. Asvald shook his head and asked to see the sickest of them first.

Turning away, I walked away from the diseased and towards the nearest mounds. There were twenty of them. In Fighting Badger’s cave, I had been able to read their memories within a foot or two of them.

I heard nothing this time and started to relax. I moved further into the burial place until I stood in the middle and closed my eyes, listening for any whisper from the dead.

Nothing. Carter’s solution to the malfunctioning chip – a two by four to the back of the head – had apparently worked. The subtle whisper of danger remained but no horrid memories poured into my mind.

Turning away, I started back towards the injured people. Everyone else had gathered around Asvald, who was dutifully refilling the cups with water and a sprinkle of herbs as they became empty. The sight of him showing the world how good he truly was left me misty eyed. I smiled, despite his conviction we were in danger. Once they saw Asvald working hard to save them, they would be grateful enough to let us go. After all, keeping us here would only give them two more mouths to feed, which they clearly didn’t need.

Barring another snowfall, we’d be home by dawn with the leftover herbs and in time to help Liev.

And then I noticed what was strange about this place.

At the cabin, the furs of those animals we slaughtered for food were either drying out or being used for bedding or to keep the wind from breaching the slipshod walls. The bones suitable for use as tools or sharpened into knives were dried out near the fire. What we didn’t need, we walked as far from the cabin as possible to toss into the ravine. Our spit was outside the house for easy access, and we had a secondary, much smaller spit over the fire inside, where we could cook up small pieces of meat when the weather didn’t permit us to build a fire outside.

There were no furs in this cave, no bone utensils, no spit or cooking utensils over the fire or any other signs of how they cooked their food. They had much more room than we did in the cabin. Why wouldn’t they cook their food here, where everyone could access it without hauling meat in and out of the cave?

Perplexed as to what threat Asvald found in these oddities, I surveyed the cave from this new angle.

My eyes slid towards the front of the cave – and stopped at the natural shelf above the entrance.

Human skulls lined the shelf. Dozens of them.

My smile faded.

It couldn’t be. Could it?

No furs, no animals. Was this enough for Asvald’s gut to warn him?

Was this a common enough occurrence in this age that he knew exactly what it meant when he realized there were no signs of what these people ate visible in the cave?

Of all the questions I’d been asking myself the past few months, this was one I didn’t want to know the answer to.

One of the men glanced back towards me. I dropped my gaze and knelt beside one of the diseased, lifting the teen boy’s head to give him water once more. My heart beat hard and fast against my breast. Already, I was trying to rationalize what I had seen. Maybe there was some significance in collecting the skulls of the dead. Hadn’t one of Bjorn’s stories been about a Viking who kept his enemy’s skull to drink out of?

Or was that Batu’s story about the Mongols?

It was with a shiver that I admitted I wouldn’t rule it out of either barbaric society’s ability.

The alternative, that these people had resorted to cannibalism, and we were trapped in their cave, was too terrifying for me to consider.

That’d be enough to make even Asvald tremble. My breath caught. The temporal displacement crept up on me. I pushed it away, not about to be unconscious if something bad happened.

After several deep breaths, I glanced towards the mounds and then shifted to the ill woman to deliver more herbs.

Her breathing had stopped. Startled, I paused. I went to the teen boy, then to the girl.

All three of them were dead. I opened my mouth to alert Asvald and then stopped.

I sat back on my heels and peered into the cup. Herbs floated in the murky water. I didn’t dare taste it. It was possible the three diseased people had been mostly dead to start off with. But the idea they all suddenly died at the same time, after Asvald treated them for their illnesses … It couldn’t be coincidence these three died within minutes of meeting Asvald, whose preference for killing was poison.

My gaze settled on him across the cave. His hood kept me from seeing his face. He had finished dispensing the medicine to those in the cave and stood to the side, waiting.

Oh, Asvald. My throat felt tight. I couldn’t bring myself to look at those in the cave, the same way they hadn’t been willing to look at me when I entered. They had already known my fate the second I stepped foot in their home, just as I knew theirs now.

I closed my eyes to what I knew was coming.

The first of them dropped to the ground. Someone cried out. A groan, and a third. The group was thrown into chaos, with several screaming and the two men shouting slurred words towards Asvald and me.

Their deaths were quick. Within a matter of minutes, the cave fell silent. Asvald approached, his soft boots brushing the stones lining the floor of the cave. I felt him kneel in front of me.

“May the gods forgive me,” he said, voice quivering.

I drew a deep breath and opened my eyes. His hood was down again, and he appeared stricken, upset.

“There were children,” he whispered.

A lump was in my throat. I took his hands and squeezed. “You did what you had to. You always do,” I told him.

“I am sorry I insisted we go with them. I am sorry I hurt them.”

We were both quiet, he considering what he had done, and me suddenly struck by the guilt of knowing no god had told him to protect me, but a man. I had never really considered the position Asvald was in. He believed he was earning a place in Odin’s great hall by protecting me. The truth was, he was doing what Carter – a man like any other – manipulated him into doing.

Had I purposely not wanted to think about this? Or had I truly not realized that Carter, and through him, I, too, were using Asvald’s devotion to his religion against him?

“I’m not,” I told him. I was surprised to discover how true these words felt. I was responsible for these people’s deaths, even though I hadn’t killed them directly. My presence was a catalyst for death and destruction in any era.

But I was starting to understand why. Why people killed to protect me. Why I was worth saving. Not that I believed my life to be worth it all, but when I considered my children …

I would slaughter the world for them. Somehow. I’d use a man like Asvald, too, if it meant my children lived.

What was Carter’s excuse? I had two tiny, defenseless children to motivate me. What secret was Carter hiding? Because I began to suspect my journey through time was far more personal to him than I originally thought. It had to be. No one went to this level of effort for a stranger or to exact vengeance against an enemy.

Asvald was studying me, as if uncertain I spoke the words to comfort him or voiced the truth.

“I trust you, Asvald,” I said and rested my fingers on his knotted cheeks. “You did what you had to. We weren’t going to make it out of this cave any other way. You are too good, too honorable, to doubt yourself.” As I said the words, I felt … torn. Guilty and grateful, disappointed in myself and also relieved to be alive.

“We were not,” he agreed.

If there were an Odin or any kind of god, Asvald would be first in line to go to heaven or Valhalla or Fólkvangr, Freyja's magical afterlife field.

I wouldn’t. I understood in that moment I’d do whatever I had to in order to ensure my children survived. If that meant I kept the truth of my situation and the true source of the vision from Asvald, then I would.

“I have upset you.” His voice carried a shaken note.

Always too observant, Asvald mistook the tears in my eyes as being for his actions. “No,” I replied firmly and wiped my eyes. “I am grateful to Odin, Freyja, Frigg, Thor and all the gods that you are here to save me and my children. I would have died many times over before giving birth. You are stronger than any man I have ever known.”

He relaxed a little, though his hands still shook. As if feeling how heavy the silence was, how creepy our surroundings had just become, he stood.

“We must go.”

I rose swiftly, silently vowing I would never, ever set foot in any cave ever again.

Feeling claustrophobic, I left the dead in the cave. Asvald pulled burning logs out of the fire to burn the bodies. When he was done, we left the cave and headed back towards the village.

“I’m sorry we didn’t find grain,” I said in the quiet night. “But I’m happy we found your herbs.”

“Me, too.”

Neither of us spoke again until we had put distance between the cave and us.

“You collapsed when we entered the cave. Are you ill, Yosee?” Concern was in his voice.

I hesitated, uncertain how to explain the memory that surfaced when I set foot in the cave. “No,” I started. “A long time ago, in a different place, I knew a man who buried people in a cave. I went there and could hear them speak to me, even though they were dead.”

“I have always known you were blessed,” he replied.

Or cursed, I thought. Not the good kind of curse, either, but the black magic, voodoo curse that would never lift and destroyed the lives of everyone around me.

That part was way too much for me to explain to Asvald.

“It doesn’t feel like a blessing,” I said aloud.

“To be different is its own kind of suffering,” he agreed. “Do you ever have visions?”

“No,” I replied. “I can feel when someone wants to help or harm me, but I’ve never experienced anything like I did in that cave.”

“Mystic gifts are as fickle as the gods can be,” he reasoned. “I do not have visions every night, but when I have one, it disrupts my sleep. Your gift serves you well, though, if you can sense a threat.”

“It doesn’t make a difference,” I grumbled. “I can’t defend myself. If someone wants to murder me, what good does sensing his intention do when he has a weapon and I can’t fight?”

“Then I will teach you.”

I stopped walking and faced him. Moonlight made his scarred features something out of a horror movie. “You will?” I asked, surprised.

“If you wish it,” he answered. “You were not a good hunter.”

“I know. I’m terrible.”

“Your aim does not have to be as exact when fighting. If you aim for a man’s heart and chop off his leg instead, you still cripple him.”

I laughed, startling us both. Asvald gave me an odd look, and I flushed then shook my head. “You can teach me when Liev is well.”

At the mention of the boy’s name, we both began walking again, this time faster than before.

* * *

Hours later, exhausted and cold, we reached the secluded cabin in the middle of the forest. The moment I opened the door, my hope plummeted.

Sigrid and Bjorn sat over Liev, both sobbing. My twins were quiet and sleeping in a nest near them. Kolfinna appeared confused and sat near her mother, playing idly with a makeshift toy.

My heart sank, and tears pricked my eyes. “We’re too late,” I whispered. Flinging off the cloak, I crossed to the two and knelt.

Liev’s features were pale, cold, his chest still. I touched his forehead, which was still warm.

“How long ago did he pass?” I asked Sigrid.

“At sunset,” she replied and wiped her eyes.

Sunset. If not for our detour, we would have been back in time. With Liev’s lifeless body in front of me, my first thought was that those bastards who kidnapped us deserved what Asvald had done. Sorrow penetrated my anger, and I began to cry, as much for Liev as for the possibility I would one day, possibly soon, cry over the bodies of my own children.

How had Thora done it? How had she survived after losing a child?

Sagging and pale, Bjorn’s gaze was on his brother. I wrapped him in my arms and hugged him against me fiercely, vowing to save one of Thora’s children. The rest of her family had been wiped out, and I couldn’t help feeling the sense again that these people, this place, this time, deserved more than to become a forgotten drop in the bottomless ocean that was history.

Sigrid, Bjorn and I fell asleep clutching one another and crying.