Undercurrent by Michelle Griep

Author:Michelle Griep [Griep, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Risen Books
Published: 2011-04-18T06:00:00+00:00

As the beat of the hylsung increased, Ragnar’s breaths filled one hole then another. He moved the panpipe back and forth against his lower lip. How long had it been since he’d made such happy music? His cramped jaw and aching cheeks answered—too long. Focus now, focus. No time for a wandering mind during this fast tangle. One sour note had already earned him a skewed glance from the fiddler, and the blame could not rightly be cast on his finely carved instrument. Kier’s craftsmanship and time spent on this beauty far exceeded the benches he’d slapped together for the event. Hardly a concern, though, when most guests circled and dipped to the lively rhythm.

At the finish of the set, his lungs heaved as much as the dancers’, but what better way to break an honest sweat? He tapped the pipes against his thigh, releasing excess moisture, then tucked it behind between belt and tunic.

“I bested ye then, in that one, did I?” The fiddler leaned close, his breath coming through stubby, yellow teeth and smelling of sausage.

“I knew not ’twas a battle, my friend, but I yield. Your skill on the strings is quite matchless.” His praise elicited a broad smile, showing where the man’s stained teeth ended and barren gums began. “But after a mugful and bite of meat pie, I’ll give it another go if you are willing, ja?”

“Well met. I will be ready.”

Before sampling again of the man’s horrid breath, Ragnar made haste to the food trestle, until a hand on his shoulder stopped him short.

“A word, if you please.”

He turned to face Kier. “Indeed.”

“I…” Kier cleared his throat and looked away.

Ragnar followed his gaze to where Magnus held his bride aloft, spinning her around as she giggled, then set her down and kissed her forehead. Her small palm rested on his cheek, and she turned her adoring face toward his, as though even without sight, he were the most beloved vision she’d ever beheld.

Kier sighed and returned his attention to Ragnar. “Gwenn is happy. Though simple, Magnus is a good man. N’er again will I speak against his character. But there is more I would have you hear.” He gave a sharp nod, inviting Ragnar to follow his lead to the side of a shed where no guests stood.

“Alarik says you will leave by week’s end. So be it. I wish you well. But tell me what the danger is, for my headstrong young brother admits to none.”

Of course not. Life had ever been a game to Alarik. “Your brother would concede to no danger even if clenched in a dragon’s jaw.” Ragnar smiled at his own word picture, until the teeth snapped shut. He met Kier’s gaze with a solemn one. “There is much danger. Alarik’s life will be in the hands of the lawgiver. I cannot say what will become of him or Rogaland, but I suspect much blood will be shed on both accounts.”

Kier folded his arms and remained silent. The fiddler’s strings carried a warm-up call even to this side of the yard.

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