Raging Sea Read Free

there.
    Foolishly, he began to follow his grandfather’s order and imagined the winds rising and encircling them. He closed his eyes and asked them to warm again.
    And they did.
    The winds swirled around them in a cocoon of warmth, gently at first and then faster when he but thought the command.
    Wider
, he thought.
    The winds loosened their hold on him and his grandfather and swirled in a larger circle, enclosing the cart and the horse. The animal tugged against the bit, whinnying its dismay and fear.
    â€œ
Away
,” Soren said.
    Within seconds, the winds blew wider and wider, softer and softer, until they were gone and only silence filled the area. Shocked, Soren turned slowly and found his grandfather’s knowing gaze on him.
    â€œHow?” he asked him. “How is such a thing done?”
    Before his grandfather could say a word, Soren’s arm stung. Ignoring a possible injury in the face of understanding this weird and strange occurrence, he waited on the old man’s words. A wave of fire shot through his forearm then, forcing Soren to gasp. Pulling the edge of his tunic’s sleeve up, he saw a strange mark on his arm. Something rose under the skin and moved about before disappearing.
    â€œYou carry the blood of Taranis within you, Soren. Worshipped long before the Norse gods arrived here. The god of winds and storm and lightning and thunder. You command it all to do your bidding,” his grandfather said, smiling and nodding. “The power is awakening now. The bloodlines are rising. The battle is coming. It is now your destiny. Do not fail in this as I have, Grandson, for the fate of all humanity is at stake.”
    Soren took in a breath, preparing to argue but his grandfather collapsed against him then. When he could not rouse him, Soren shook the reins and urged the horse to move. By the time they arrived at his aunt’s cottage, the old man seemed even more fragile than before. Soren carried him inside and put him in his bed. Even deeply asleep or unconscious, Einar mumbled those familiar words.
    He sat with his grandfather, listening until no more sounds came. And all the time, Soren’s blood heated and raced and the skin on his arm stung. Questions filled his mind and the only person who could answer them lay asleep. Soren accepted a bowl of stew from his aunt and remained at Einar’s bedside through the night, waiting for him to awaken.
    The next morning, the sun pierced through the small chamber and found Soren still there. He’d fallen asleep in a chair at some time during the dark of night. He rubbed his eyes, pushed his hair out of his face and peered at Einar. His grandfather had not moved since Soren had placed him here, not even when Soren tried to speak to him.
    â€œGrandfather,” he said softly, reaching out to touch his hand. “Are you well?”
    His hand was icy and had lost any suppleness. Soren’s heart clutched as he leaned closer and listened for the sounds of breathing. Placing his hand gently on Einar’s chest, he felt no rise or fall. No movement at all.
    His grandfather was dead.
    Scuffling feet behind him grew closer now and Soren turned to face his aunt. The only other one of Einar’s kin alive, she’d seen to his care even after the death of his son, her husband.
    â€œHe is gone?” Ingeborg asked.
    â€œAye,” Soren said, standing and moving aside so she could sit by the man she treated as her own father. “I did not think he would go so quickly. He seemed . . .”
    â€œIndestructible?”
    â€œImmortal, truly.”
    She leaned closer and touched Einar’s cheek, whispering something under her breath. Then she moved her thumb across his forehead and touched his closed eyes and mouth before bowing her head three times. The mumbled words were similar to what he’d heard from Einar and those he’d repeated. A child’s rhyme? Had Einar passed it down through his