Page 59 of A Light So Blinding
“Bjorn,” his mother said, “my advice to you, if you wish to hear it, is that you should try. She is a good woman. You are a good man. The match that was made in that blood witch’s hut was intentional.”
He shook his head. “It was a mistake. She does not wish to be bonded to a troll.”
“Are you certain of that?”
“As certain as I can be. She is a priestess to her people, and is used to a life I cannot give her. I have not made jewelry in her honor. I cannot even make her clothing. You should have seen her before all this.” He took a deep breath, remembering the glimmering outfit with all those stones. “She was dripping in pearls, Mother. She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. All golden and gleaming.”
“And yet, you say she must leave you because you have not proven yourself to be a worthy husband. You haven’t even made her clothing, so you say.” His mother shrugged. “Then make something for her.”
“What?”
“Make a dress for her, Bjorn.”
Anxiety burned in his chest, and on the tail of it came the rage that always ruined everything. “I have not sewn or even thought of making clothing in years. Ten years of pain have burned away my memories.”
“Those memories are still there. You just have to awaken them.” She looked him in the eye, peering into his soul. “I will care for your troll wife while you relearn what it is to be a troll husband. This is what I have seen in the smoke. You will do it.”
He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t deserve this chance. Astrid should find someone who would take care of her better than he ever could, and some part of him wanted to argue with his mother. So he shook his head, denying the words.
“I have no money. No ability to pay for anything that is necessary.”
“You will figure it out,” she replied. “Don’t come back until you have something worthy of her, my son. And if I might suggest a path for you? Perhaps you would find yourself in thefarthest part of the forest to the north, as you did when you were a boy.”
She headed back into the house, and he wasn’t all that certain what she was talking about. His memories weren’t entirely there. He didn’t know what was in the northern forest, but if that was where she wanted him to go, then that was where he would go.
He didn’t wait to see Astrid, although every part of him wanted to peer in through the window of the second bedroom just to see her sleeping. To make sure that she was all right.
The grotto wasn’t far from many of their resources, so it wouldn’t take him long to get to the northern forest. Bjorn put his feet on the path, and started out. He followed the cobblestones until they stopped, and then continued going, keeping the moon on his left so he was headed in the correct direction.
Throughout the short journey, he reminded himself that it was all right to take his mother’s advice. She still believed in him, somehow.
The forest appeared in front of him as the sun rose on the horizon. The streaks of pink and hues of bright lavender filled his vision along the darkness of the trees. They were so thick it was hard for him to wander among them, pushing aside branches that were as thick as his arm and ducking underneath leaves that were larger than his head. It was a vibrant barrier to the woods, but then it was so dark even he had a hard time seeing what was in front of him.
Why was he here? His mother had said he’d been in this forest before, but the memories were so thin. He didn’t know what reasoning he would have needed to be in the forest. And if this was supposed to get him some form of money to pay for fabric for Astrid’s dress, then maybe there was a treasure here for him to find.
Then he heard a sound above his head. A creaking groan that made memories flood through his mind.
He froze, listening to the noises of the forest as the birds went silent and all the bugs stopped their chirping. He stared straight ahead of him, watching in horror as what he had thought was a fallen log, moved out of his way.
That wasn’t bark. It washair. And that log had been the leg of a legendary monster.
He ducked, remembering the stories of creatures who lived in these woods. Massive spiders, orbweavers, who had grown larger than horses. These were their lands, their world, and he’d only come here once when he was a young man on a dare.
Bjorn made sure he was far beneath the canopy of the trees where the beasts lived. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like any of them had realized he was here yet. Their webs were farther above his head, and he was lucky that he hadn’t stepped on any of the points where they stretched nearly invisible to the ground, waiting to catch prey.
Suddenly, he could hear them speaking as well. Their words were so easy for him to pick out, as though he had always heard them speaking.
“Scarce food lately,” one of them said, her voice deep even for a female. “We must hunt, soon.”
“There will be food that wanders into these woods. There always is.”
“Humans hunt now. Trolls hunt. The lands grow sparse.”
The other voice snorted. “Then humans or trolls will wander into the woods. They seek food, then they become food.”
Why had his mother sent him here? Just to awaken the magic inside him even more? Perhaps that was the lesson she wanted to teach him. He could pay for the fabric of his troll wife’s dress if he remembered how to use his own power.
He needed to leave. That was the only choice. Bjorn turned, then froze as a leg longer than he was tall lowered onto the ground in front of him. The orbweaver heaved itself out of the trees, the heavy abdomen dragging down a nearby tree so hard that it stripped the bark from the trunk. Her body was black obsidian, so dark it gleamed even in the meager moonlight that barely filtered through the leaves.
