Chapter 10
Erik spent the next few days doing his regular daily task while he waited for the water to dry out in the salt pans. He taught at the school, gave extra lessons to Ainar and the older students, made a couple of primer books for reading , writng and doing sums. He taught Sven archery and horse back riding on his trusty mare Luna who was now pregnant. He made sure she was carrying twins and kept them all healthy and strong.
'I could just clone her' he thought 'but I don't want to go such extreme measures yet. One thing I have in abundance is time as canon events are centuries away''
He also experimented with making armor using a combination of materials like spider web, carbon firbe, resins, bones, sea shells and leather. So far, the results were unsatisfying but he kept trying.
Every other day he would venture out into the surrounding forests where he would spend some quality time bonding with his animal companions, foraging for edible seeds that he would enhance and plant in the village and look for interesting new animals to add to his group. He'd added an owl, a pair of snow leopard and some elks during the past week.
A few days later, they gathered again at the beach to see the fruits of their efforts
One eyed Korb whistled looking at the salt "That's more salt than any we've traded form the Crows at Eastwatch castle."
Erik nodded toward the beach. "We'll make more. Enough to last us through winter."
Runa stepped beside him, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear with deliberate grace. "If this continues, my father will insist you've enchanted the sea itself."
"It's knowledge, not magic, Runa," Erik laughed. "Tell him the sun does the work."
She gave him a sidelong look, lashes half-lowered. "Mm. If you say so. Though you have a talent for making the impossible look routine." Her tone turned velvet-smooth. "You're rather… impressive, Erik. Irritatingly so."
"Brilliant, am I? "Erik tilted his head, a slow smile forming. "Careful, Runa. Keep praising me like that and I'll think you're trying to charm me."
Runa's lips curled slyly as her violet eyes shone wickedly in amusement "And if I were? Would that really be such a terrible fate for you?" Her voice was teasing with the confidence of someone who already knows the answer. "Would that truly bother you?"
"It won't bother me at all" He said as a faint grin tugged at his mouth. "In fact, I'd say it's easy to look brilliant when someone like you is watching so closely."
They held each other's gaze—hers sharp, challenging, but undeniably warm.
A moment later, One-eyed Korb cleared his throat loudly. "Ahem! But what will we do with so much salt, Life-Weaver?"
"Now that we have salt, I can teach you the numerous ways it is useful" Erik replied
"But that," Erik said with a small, knowing smile, "I will show you tomorrow. For now, let's store this bounty. We don't want it sitting out her in the open for too long."
Runa lingered in front of him, her voice dropping to a soft, dangerous murmur. "If you're promising wonders, then don't disappoint me." Her violet eyes glittered. "Tomorrow, Erik."
She turned away with a swirl of her dark braid, leaving Erik smiling after her.
The villagers packed the salt happy to have so much and marveling at the ease of acquiring it.
Salt—clean, free, theirs.
Later that evening, as the last baskets of salt were carried toward storage, Erik found old Hrolf the master fisherman untangling a net. The fisherman was muttering to himself about torn nets and no one helping him fix them.
Erik crouched beside him and began working the knots loose as he started a conversation. After exchanging some pleasantries, he got the topic he wanted to talk about.
"A few days ago, I heard you telling Runa about great black shapes you'd glimpsed two days prior" Erik asked
"Aye big monsters the lot of them all black and white" He groused "Tore one of my nets clean through to get at the fish. Curse them."
"Dou you remember where you saw them?" Erik asked he last knot came free, and he let the net drop to the ground.
Hrolf looked up, squinting. "Near the Black Shoal. Why?"
"Because I need to go there," Erik replied. "Tomorrow. And I want you to take me along with your whole fishing team"
"Lad, they're predators. Not something you row toward," Hrolf snorted. "Besides, no one hunts them. If you try to kill one, they just dive deep and vanish. And even if you used your powers to kill them, they're too damn big for our boats."
Erik's expression didn't waver. "I'm not hunting them. I need to meet them. You know these waters better than anyone. And bring your widest nets."
"The big nets?" Hrolf blinked. "For what?"
"You'll understand when we get there," Erik said. "Trust me, Hrolf."
The old fisherman sighed, shook his head, even as he pushed himself upright. "Fine. You're the Champion, and the Chief's told everyone to help you when we can. But if we die, I'm haunting you."
Erik grinned. "I'll take my chances."
The next morning, Erik joined old fisherman Hrolf and his team of aboard four narrow fishing boats.
"Where did you see them last?" Erik asked "let's go there"
"Last I saw'em was out past the black shoal," Hrolf muttered as he pushed one set of oars while his daughter Runa pushed the other set "Two days ago. Big shapes. Real big. A pod of them"
"Orcas?" Erik asked
"Aye" Hrolf muttered.
They rowed until the cliffs faded into a thin grey line behind them and the water grew cold enough to bite through skin. Hrolf lifted his chin toward a stretch of unusually calm water.
"Here, they passed here last."
"Now we wait for them "Erik stated and so they waited.
Hours slipped by with only gulls crying overhead and the rhythmic slap of waves against the hulls. The sun climbed higher and higher until it hung directly above them at midday. Erik sat still, eyes half-closed, letting his senses sink beneath the surface. His new powers, gifts granted to him when he became Champion of the Old Gods reached outward like a living radar, searching for the sparks of life. He could sense every living thing for at least a mile around him and there was no sign of large killer whales.
And then just as he was about to quitm something new popped up on the radar.
He felt it: many ripples of presence, curious and enormous, brushing the edge of his mind. There was intelligence in these aquatic minds—and curiosity. His eyes snapped open.
"They're here," he whispered.
Sure enough, a couple of minutes later Shadows slid beneath the boat—smooth, dark, and impossibly graceful. Hrolf swore under his breath and reached for a harpoon. Erik gesture him to stop, stood and peeled off his cloak.
"Lad, what in the gods' names—?" Hrolf shouted in surprise.
But Erik didn't answer. He stepped to the edge, inhaled once, and dove.
With his power Erik easily created the webbed hands and feet along with gills to breath underwater.
The cold water should have hit him like a hammer, but the sea welcomed him all the same. Before the old god's gift, he might have been uncomfortable and wary. Now? Nature which included the waters felt familiar almost welcoming. He didn't feel the cold as much as he'd expected. He mentally reached out to the orcas sending warm and peaceful feelings.
The orcas circled him—not with the hunger of predators, but with the gentle caution of creatures unsure whether he was man or something more. They felt his gentle presence in their mind but their natural instinct told them not to worry. They felt something in him that was not entirely mortal, and their instinct told them they need not fear.
The lead mother approached, vast and powerful, her eyes turning toward him with unmistakable intelligence.
Erik reached out.
Peace, he sent—not a word, but a feeling shaped by thought and will.
The matriarch rumbled back, a deep vibration he felt more than heard. Curiosity. Recognition. Respect.
He pressed his palm to her rubbery skin. The world steadied.
You hunt here, he thought. Teach me how. Let us help each other.
Images flowed into his mind—circling fish, shimmering silver clouds, the tight spirals of a carousel hunt. The pod driving the school upward in perfect formation, timing every surge and dive with the precision of a warband.
He sent his own image in return: fishermen holding nets, pushing the trapped fish toward them, giving the orcas the first strike, the richest pick, the fattest catches.
A long silence. The mother's vast black eye blinked once.
Agreement.
She clicked sharply, and the entire pod reacted at once— a shifting wheel of motion and purpose. They dove, re-formed, and began to gather the first school of fish into a spinning, tightening cylinder of silver.
Erik surfaced just long enough to shout to Hrolf.
"Ready your nets! All four boat form a square and spread your biggest net a wide as you can"
"How will that catch fish?" one of the young fishermen asked in disbelief "The fish are deep in the water, not on the surface'"
"Idiot" Hrolf mutter bonking the speaker in the head "Just do as the Life weaver says"
The men scrambled, ropes flying, nets stretching wide atop the water. Then they watched—first skeptical, then stunned—as the sea erupted into organized frenzy as the killer whales herded fish directly toward their net, exactly where Erik had shown them.
"By the old gods…" Hrolf breathed.
And when the nets were full—fuller than any he had hauled in his entire life—the matriarch surfaced beside Erik pushing into him, her blow a gentle push. He touched her again, gratitude flowing between them like warm current.
the matriarch surfaced beside Erik. Her blow was soft, almost affectionate. He laid his hand on her again, gratitude flowing between them like a warm current.
"The first pick is yours," Erik murmured. "We have a pact"
The pod dove in, feasting on big mouthfuls of the fattest, richest fish at the heart of the school, exactly as he had promised.
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When they returned in the afternoon, their boats heavy with fish, the villagers erupted into cheers.
When the final tally was measured, even the elders—stone-faced grumpy men who had seen countless long winters and mercurous raids stood speechless. Piles of gleaming fish covered the stony beach, more than the village had ever harvested in a single day. Enough for a feast. Enough to trade. Enough to push winter back a few paces.
Someone shouted, "Bless the champion of the old gods!"
Another joined in, "Erik brings the sea's bounty!"
And then came the chanting—half-joking, half-serious:
"Erik! Erik! Erik!"
"Life-Weaver! Life-Weaver!"
Even Erik had to laugh as a group of children tried lifting him by the legs.
Chief Frode approached, scratching his beard. "A blessing… but too large a one. We can't eat this before it spoils."
"You're right" Erik nodded. "Then we'll preserve it. Properly."
Frode raised an eyebrow. "How? We don't; have that many smokehouses."
"We don't smoke this fish" Erik stated "We salt it"
"What do you mean salt it?" Forde asked
"Salting a fish is a methods that preserves a fish far longer than smoking it" Erik explained "Here I'll show you"
Erik clapped his hands sharply.
"Bring knives. Buckets. Clay jars. Wooden barrels. And all the salt. We work together."
They gathered tools while he chose a big flat rock as a table and lifted the first fish.
"Watch," he said.
He slid the knife cleanly from gills to belly, opened the fish with practiced ease, and removed the organs. The villagers leaned in—Runa right beside him, her arm brushing his.
"Rinse it," he instructed. A boy hurried forward with a bucket of water which he used to cleaned it thoroughly before drying it by using his powers to make the flesh let go of the water clinging to it.
"Now we use salt. lots of it" Erik explained
He grabbed a handful of coarse crystals from the drying pit and rubbed them inside the fish, firm and thorough, coating flesh and skin.
"I've used my powers to dry it after the rinsing. You'll have to let it dry a bit before salting it." Erid said " Salt draws out water. Keeps the fish from rotting for a year."
Runa nodded, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. "Efficient. And for once, not overly dramatic. I'm impressed."
"Next," Erik said ignoring Runa's sarcasm, placing the fish inside a clay jar, "we layer it."
He scattered salt across the bottom, placed the fish, and then poured more salt on top, burying it completely.
"Air is the enemy. Keep it sealed." Erik said "Now everyone please do as I say we'll have all this fish salted in no time"
Soon the villagers had formed a chain—gutters, cleaners, salters, packers, sealers. The beach transformed into a bustling workshop.
Children carried small bowls of salt. Women cleaned fish with swift, sure hands. Men hammered lids onto barrels.
Runa worked beside Erik the entire time, smiling whenever their hands brushed; he didn't miss the way some of the older women smirked knowingly.
By evening the shore was lined with rows of filled jars and barrels, each packed tight with salted fish. The villagers looked at their work with pride bordering on awe.
"We have enough for winter," someone said.
"Not just one winter. For two," another added.
"By the gods," Hrolf muttered, "we're rich. We'll never starve in the winters again"
"How long will it last?" someone asked
"It can last for several months, sometimes over a year" Erik replied "when properly packaged and stored."
Chief Frode stepped up beside him, crossing his arms as he surveyed the rows of preserved food.
"You've given us what no raider, no king beyond the Wall, no wandering merchant ever has," the chief said quietly. "Food security. Let this be a lesson to the naysayers and disbelievers."
Erik didn't answer. He only watched the villagers, laughing, working, thriving.
Now they have plenty of food to eat, store for winter, and trade with other villages, Erik thought, warmth rising in his chest. 'Hopefully that will convince the stubborn ones to be more accepting of the changes' he though before spying one of the villagers picking up a salted fish with two fingers and giving it a dubious look ' maybe not'
"I'm trying to help," Erik finally said to the chief. "This surplus of fish, and the salt we harvested, means we can salt and save even more. For winter. For lean days. And for trade."
"I know." Frode clapped him on the shoulder. "Just be ready. Many fear what they do not understand… even when it feeds them."
"You're right. I've tried to help here. But many people here don't like the change. They are too set in their ways. That's why I need to leave," Erik replied quietly. "The village is stronger than ever. It doesn't need me hovering around anymore. But there are others out there—villages, clans, families—who desperately need the help I gave here. I need a place where I can work and improve our lives freely"
Chief Frode's gaze drifted out toward the sea. He said nothing for a long while, weighing the words like stones in his palm. Finally, he exhaled.
"Aye." He nodded, though the movement was reluctant. "You're leaving this village in better shape than it has ever been. And… it will solve the problem I mentioned before."
He stroked his beard, lost in thought.
"Very well. Make your preparations. I'll see who I can convince to go with you. I'll start the old codgers. Either they die of old age in a couple of years or join you and you can make them young again"
His eyes sharpened. "But it won't be for free. You're taking working hands, people with trades even of their backs aren't strong enough anymore for hard work. That weakens us. I want something in return to even the odds. Especially when raiders come in the winter, when all the food on land is gone and they look to the coastal villages to raid"
Erik dipped his head respectfully. "I'll see what I can offer. Thank you for understanding."
Frode grunted, then softened. "I've known you wanted to leave for some time now. I've seen you restless and unsatisfied. Just don't stay away for too long. Come visit once in a while" he said before turning to the villagers and spoke loudly "Well? What are ye waiting for? All this fish that ain't salted isn't going to cook itself. Get to it you lazy louts. Tonight we feast and celebrate this bountiful food"
By evening, the fires blazed high. Fish roasted over the long pits, children darted around with greasy fingers, and the air was thick with smoke, salt, and the sweetness of berry wine from someone's "emergency stash."
The entire cliffside village had gathered beneath the open sky, celebrating like a people who believed—for the first time in a long while—that fortune might finally favor them.
Erik sat near one of the fires, sharing a drink with Gertrude and the fishermen, when he heard a familiar voice behind him.
"So," Runa said, hands on her hips, "remind me again how I did half the rowing, but you get all the chanting?"
Erik grinned. "Because you didn't dive into a pod of killer whales and convince them to catch fish. You just rowed… and rowed… and rowed again."
She snorted
She handed him a cup of wine and dropped onto the log beside him with the ease of someone who'd sat beside him many times before.
"Good haul," she said, clinking her cup lightly against his. "Not bad for a day's work"
"You saved my pa and brother a week of bad weather and empty nets," she said, handing him a cup of wine. "Maybe more". she said politely. Her eyes were full of admiration and hero-worship for him.
'Oh boy' Erik thought as he felt her lust for him and in turn he too felt attracted to the pretty brunette.
"The sea has plenty of food, Runa." Erik replied smiling "It wasn't me alone, The orcas—"
"—came because of you, Champion" she finished, her smile and the look in her violet eyes making his pulse quicken.
She stayed beside him the rest of the evening, moving closer as the fire burned low. They talked about nothing and everything—her dreams of seeing warmer lands, his quiet humor, her teasing remarks about how the little ones tried to imitate him by wearing branches and leaves as armor.
When it got late at night and couples drifted into the shadows and into the huts, she leaned in.
"You've done enough for the village today," she whispered. "Let someone thank you properly."
Erik raised an eyebrow, half teasing. "And who would that be?"
She gave him a meaningful look. "Me, obviously."
Before he could answer, she took his hand,lightly at first, then with quiet certainty, as though she feared he might pull away but hoped he wouldn't.
He didn't.
"Come," she whispered. "Before someone else steals you away."
"Doesn't the stealing thing happen the other way around?" He chuckled. "I doubt anyone would be interested."
"Then you'd be surprised," she said, smiling slyly. "Half the girls have been whispering about you for the past month."
She tugged him along the narrow path to his treehouse. Inside, the air felt warmer, heavy with the scent of pine and the lingering smoke from the fires below. Lanterns swung gently from the rafters, casting golden light that danced across her face, making her eyes shine like molten amber.
For a heartbeat, they simply looked at one another. The space between them thrummed with unspoken desire. Runa stepped closer, her fingers brushing his arm—light, teasing, yet deliberate.
"Erik…" she whispered her voice low, almost trembling. "You make hard things easy. Dangerous things… safe." Her hand lingered against his chest, tracing the steady beat of his heart. "You make me feel like tomorrow could be brighter… better… with you."
He caught her hand, pressing it gently to his chest, feeling the warmth of her skin seep into him. "And you," he said, brushing a thumb over her cheek, "make this place feel a little less lonely… and a lot more dangerous."
Runa's breath hitched, and her lips parted slightly. Heat radiated from her body as she moved closer, the soft brush of her hair against his face setting a fire in his chest. "I could stay here forever," she murmured. "Just like this."
Erik's hands traced the curve of her waist, lingering on the small of her back, pulling her just a fraction closer. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him as if afraid to let go.
Their faces drew nearer, breaths mingling, hearts racing in sync. Time seemed to stretch, the lantern light flickering across their skin, casting them both in gold. Slowly, deliberately, Erik leaned in, and Runa met him halfway.
Their lips met in a soft, lingering kiss, gentle at first, tasting and testing, before deepening naturally into something hotter, fuller. She pressed closer, and he responded in kind, wrapping his arms around her as if he could anchor himself in the warmth and desire radiating between them.
The world outside, the laughter, the smoke, the celebration faded completely. There was only the quiet, golden intimacy of the treehouse, and the first, perfect taste of something neither of them had expected but both had wanted all along.