C. Brittain - Voima

They were about to push the ship out into the channel when Kardan saw someone coming along the salt river from the direction of the sea: two people, he realized, a man and a woman, walking with hands clasped. The woman was young and dark haired; the man had a full red beard and was powerfully muscled. King Hadros beside him let out a gasp.

“I know I am not yet of age, Father,” called Valmar. It had to be Valmar, Kardan thought, but he seemed both bigger and older than the boy he remembered. Hadros had sprung from the ship to the beach and was pounding toward him, stiff leg or no stiff leg. “So I shall have to ask your permission. I would like to be married.”

Roric and Valmar stood at dawn in a circle formed by all the warriors. Each held a gold ring and waited for his bride.

Men always waited and women always came, to make it clear that the women were not being married against their wills. But Roric thought that Karin and Wigla seemed to be taking their own time about it, having chosen as the starting point for their procession a rock a quarter mile away and coming at a leisurely stroll, talking and laughing with each other.

Hadros, grumbling, had agreed that another day’s delay would make no difference. Now that Valmar was back and the blood-fee paid with the dragon’s wealth, Roric was freed from his blood-guilt, and since Valmar most definitely did not think himself betrothed to Karin there was no reason for the two couples not to be wed at once. Hadros had mumbled that he was not sure he wanted his heir to marry a woman without kin who looked to him like a siren, but there was no force in his objection.

“So you think there will be fewer wars in mortal realms now?” Roric asked Valmar as they watched the women slowly approach.

“There should be. But mortal realms were not remade, only the lands of voima. It may be generations before the change is complete, before humans are able both to follow the wandering paths of glory and to keep hearth and home-theirs and others’-safe and secure.”

“Eirik’s men may have trouble adapting to the change,” Roric commented.

“I’m looking forward,” said Valmar with a grin, “to hearing how my brothers did defending the castle against them.” He paused for a moment, then added, “They will be surprised when we all arrive, married to those they will think are the wrong people.”

“Oh, I think I can keep there from being talk about my wife,” said Roric lightly, tapping his fingers on his sword.

“And I can assure that no one says anything against the purity and constancy of my sister,” said Valmar.

The two women were slowly drawing closer. “Men and women have never been as clearly separated in their abilities as the Wanderers seemed to think,” said Roric thoughtfully. “Why do we men wander far, after all, if not to return at last, at the end of adventuring, to make a secure hearth and home?”

Valmar glanced at him sideways. “I think I figured that out myself.”

“It would be good,” Roric continued, “if more men could have women like Karin along with them, doing the plotting and planning, rather than thinking honor required them to be left at home.”

“And I think you shall find, if you face her in the practice ring, that Wigla’s as good a warrior as most men.” Valmar hesitated for a moment, then asked as though casually, “In your experiences in Hel and in the realms of voima, did you ever learn your father’s name?”

Roric shook his head. “I have renounced knowledge of my father. I had thought it would be hard knowledge to give up, but in fact it frees me. I have kin now and a mother, but I have no father, glorious or inglorious, either after whom I have to mold myself or else whose shame I have to overcome. My identity as No-man’s son will satisfy me well.”

“Maybe you are freed,” agreed Valmar quietly. “I feel as though I have only now truly become myself, yet I still have to go back and live in my father’s castle-with a wife he’ll be wishing was Karin.”

Roric laughed. “You can come help me plot against my new-found relatives if Hadros’s castle wearies you too much. But I do not fear you will return to your boyhood. The last time I talked to the Wanderer, he did not sound as though he would ever agree to joining with the Hearthkeepers. I’m impressed with you, foster-brother. They are making songs about me for coming back from Hel, but the real songs should be for you. Death is easy-it’s life that’s hard.”

Karin and Wigla had finally reached the circle. The warriors stepped aside to let them through, then closed in again. Both women had small smiles, as though still trying to make up their minds whether to accept these men.

Roric and Valmar stepped forward to meet them, rings held out. “If immortal men and women can join together,” said Valmar, “we should be able to find a way to live happily with our wives.”