Nena by Ann Boelter (digital book reader txt) 📕

watching her die. She fought back the nausea, refusing to succumb to it—pooling all of her strength whenever he would come to show her something or ask her advice. She would not let him see how weak she was becoming. How fast it was happening now. When he returned to his work, she would collapse into her furs, exhausted by the effort.

Sigurd worked like a man possessed. He loved what he did. Loved that they were taking on this enormous project together. He wanted desperately for her to see it to completion. He carried her to see each of the dragon scale carvings up close as he completed them—her visions brought to life with his chisel, blade, and rasp.

Jarl was often waiting for them at the cabin at night. Sigurd didn’t like it, but he didn’t complain, not after seeing Leila eating the special things Jarl brought for her. She seemed stronger to him. Whether it was the fresh air, or the excitement of the shared project, or the extra food she managed to eat so as not to offend Jarl, he didn’t know, but he was not about to risk changing anything.

Sigurd held her up to show her the latest scale he had completed, a raven’s eye.

Leila nodded. “It is good. It will give the ship the protection of raven’s sight.”

“That leaves only one,” he said. “Will you show me your idea now?”

She nodded again. “I have the last sketch back at my furs. Can you guess it?” she asked as he carried her back up the hill. “I’ll give you a hint. It is the most cunning, powerful animal of all.”

“Surely we have not missed an animal with such power,” he said “And you say the most powerful? More powerful than the dragon?” He could see she was enjoying stumping him so he continued to guess long past when he had tired of the game.

“Do you give up?” she finally asked.

“Aye,” he smiled.

“It is man.”

He frowned as he gently positioned her back in her nest of furs. “But men will be on the boat. What have you drawn? A sword? A shield? A battle-axe?” He reached for the sheaf of paper, but she pulled it tight against her breast.

“What is the most important power the gods have bestowed upon man?”

He shook his head as she handed him her last sketch. He balked. “This?” he asked.

“It is love. More powerful than a man’s battle-axe. More powerful than his sword or shield. More powerful than even his mind. It is so powerful, it can make him do things his mind tells him are impossible or foolish. It can give him resolve or courage when he has none. It is his greatest strength, and it’s the true essence of man—like the raven’s eye, or the crab’s claw, or the scallop’s shell. We have added all the great animal powers to make the ship stealthy, fleet, and strong, in order to protect her and to make her invincible in battle. We have ensured all of those things. Now we must ensure that this ship is blessed not only to find the physical riches that her captain seeks, but to make sure he finds the greatest treasure of all.”

Sigurd stared at her, shocked by the profoundness of her thoughts. “I would so easily give up everything I ever had and live the poorest pauper, if it meant spending more time with you.” His face twisted with the pain that he was normally able to hide.

She smiled as she touched his cheek. “I know. And I you. Which is why this one is the most important. It will capture the essence of that love, our love, and be the most powerful blessing of all.”

He nodded and brushed his eyes.

“And the position of the last scale?” she asked. “Where is it?”

“Where you requested—just above the waterline on the starboard side.”

“Over the dragon’s heart,” they said simultaneously, sharing a smile.

“I’m not sure what Jarl will have to say about it.” Sigurd frowned.

“If you do not think he will want it, or is ready for it, then don’t tell him.”

Sigurd glanced back at the sketch of the two figures entwined in a loving embrace. No details, easy to carve, but so clear, as were all her drawings, capturing and expressing the pure essence of whatever it was she had drawn.

“I will do it.”

“And if Jarl notices it and complains, then tell him you were only honoring the fancy of a dying woman. He seems very serious. Driven. I don’t think he would understand or appreciate the truth. It will be our secret. And Sigurd, I have one last request, if you agree. We did not build this ship for coin. Jarl has paid enough already with his deposit to more than cover any costs. Do not accept the remainder of what is owed. Instead, tell him when he no longer feels the drive to seek riches, he must give the ship to someone else. Someone worthy. No coin or favor is to ever change hands for her. He must swear to that and agree to make subsequent captains swear to it as well. That way she will always end up in the hands of someone deserving.”

“I like that,” Sigurd agreed. “The idea that something we created will go on forever, enriching the lives of good men.”

“And women,” she added.

“And women,” he agreed, then paused. “I have finally thought of a name for her,” he said quietly. “What do you think of The Treasure Huntress?”

Leila smiled and nodded. “It is a good name. May she provide her captain with all the physical riches he desires until she is able to seek out the true desire of his heart.”

She was weakening. For the past weeks Sigurd had known and had focused on finishing the ship’s bow. She had fought so hard against the coming of the end, as she had fought by his side when they were younger. She was the strongest person he had