Infinite 01 - Infinite Sacrifice

stomach is getting large when she tucks her body around me, and we fall asleep with my arm across Borga.
    ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
    When Rolf returns, he carries a dirty sack behind his back and yells for Thora to come out. Inga is home by then, and she comes out wondering why he didn’t say her name as well. Rolf bares an oversized grin, opens the sack wide, puts his long arms in, and pulls out the strangest bird I’ve ever seen. It’s a shiny shade of purple-blue, delicate, with a tiny, undersized head. The strangest part is the trailing, thick tail it has, twice its body length. He puts the scared thing on his hand, holds it up like a falcon, and cries, “A gift for the wife of my first child!”
    Inga goes back inside as Thora walks unsure, toward the strange creature. She holds her hand out to touch him and laughs. “What am I to do with it?”
    “This fine creature will grace our farm with its beauty and provide you with the richest feathers for your decorations.”
    She thanks him as he lifts the creature in the air; it flaps down to the ground and steps away like a chicken but meows like a cat. Borga immediately dislikes the intruder. She puts her beak flat on the ground, runs as fast as she can after it, sending it flapping off into a paddock.
    Rolf turns to me. “If that goose gets that peacock, she’ll be turning on my spit.”
    Thora motions to me to take her away. Borga isn’t the only one who doesn’t like the peacock. Inga seems to do all she can to drive the bird away. When Rolf isn’t around, she throws water and plates at it, and once she tries to catch it in a blanket. I don’t blame her; the eerie thing sneaks up and appears like a ghost in a tree beside you.
    The baby’s born at the end of the winter. Thora lets me come in to see her one morning, and there, lying on her featherbed is a little honey-eyed girl. I smile, and Thora says, “Her name is Erna.”
    I go to touch the dark fuzz on the top of her head and see a little white mark on her forehead. Thora sees me touch it with my thumb and says, “I think that’s a sign that she will be special.”
    I nod and hope that Thora will still have some time for me. Thora pulls me to her and whispers in my ear, “We are now a family.”

Chapter 5
    Rolf is away for harvest time, which means that Thora has to take the goods to market. She asks one of the older thralls to take her into the village. Erna stays with Una and Hela while we venture in. I haven’t been to Hedeby since that warrior pulled me by my scruff out of the chest. We take Army Road that leads right into town but have to pay a good sum in order to use the new bridge over the Eider River. I can’t remember what the village looked like, and I’m surprised when I see the huge hills surrounding the village in a perfect half-circle.
    “Those are the ramparts built to protect the trade center,” Thora explains.
    I see the break at the end of the road where two narrow towers stand menacingly, protecting a massive, wooden gate. On top of the towers lay two giant shields of iron, horizontal to the sky.
    Thora points. “They light those and all of the others on the shore and across the hilltops to warn us of an attack.”
    When we draw closer, I see the towers are carved with pictures of horses, hawks, and warriors fighting a dragon. Guards stand on the towers with their weapons, inspecting our wagon, and studying us as we pass through. The road changes from gravel to wooden-planked streets, and the noise of the wheels and horseshoes on it sound musical. The village is vast, stretching from the towers all the way to the sea. We pass houses with small fenced yards and trading posts with wide windows to prop up to sell one’s goods. I stare at the different-looking people; all sorts of people come here to trade from around the world. We ride by the largest building, the Great Hall, where the chieftain resides, his bodyguard army meets, and the festivals take place. It has the most amazing woodcarvings on all of the posts, every animal you can imagine. Runestones carved with exquisite words and pictures ornament the streets. I wish we could’ve stopped at each one so that Thora could’ve told me what they said.
    There are people of every class—rich noblemen and women in bright shimmering silks with gold embroidery, and others dressed like Thora, with silver brooches on their pinafores over colorful soft linen shift dresses. Then there are those who look like