A Selkie, A Viking, and an Ice Cave

Read the first two chapters of Storm Tide

Apr 30, 2022

Well, Monsters, I did it. I sent Storm Tide off to my beta readers, which means it’s getting closer and closer to being ready to publish. I gotta tell ya, there were times I didn’t know if I was going to finish this one, so I’m very excited to finally be on the editing home stretch with it. As springtime progresses, life is pretty much a whirlwind of activity at my house, what with my kids’ last few weeks of school underway and my daughter graduating. I’m sure you have your own brand of busyness taking place right now too. This time of year seems to demand a lot of us, doesn’t it? Mixed in with the hustle and bustle though, I find there’s always an undertone of excitement in the air as we move into May. What awesome projects are you undertaking this month? Are you in the middle of any new book or show obsessions? Do you have any epic quests planned? Tell me, tell me…

1

Iceland, Present Day

The Sword of Ice lay across his chest, wrapped in a leather scabbard and woven in the Norse style. His left hand rested on the hilt, frozen in time. His right resided lower down on the sheathed blade. The warrior’s awareness stirred like an unsettled wind blowing through a long-still forest, bringing with it bad omens, but his body did not move. When the witches of Elder set their curse upon him centuries ago, he’d felt each inch of his physical being freeze into lifelessness. They’d dragged him into the ice cave, placed the sword upon his chest, then left him in the icy tomb for all time. Alone. Forgotten. Eventually, his reasoning mind went as numb as the rest of him. He accepted his cold fate of death by black magic, then let his consciousness slip away in order to meet with his brothers in Valhalla.

Odin and Freya were to welcome their fearless champion. It was what he expected. A tankard of ale should have been placed in his hand, and a grand banquet with all the warriors that had passed before him should have ensued as soon as he entered their hall. But Valhalla hadn’t come for Karr Völbrok, only darkness. And now, somehow, after all this time, he felt the cold once more. Sounds of wind and sea frosted the edges of his ears the way they hadn’t in many an age. Had the witches of Elder returned for him, set on torturing him anew?

A strange breeze drifted into the cave. He tried forcing his eyes open, but they refused even as he registered a shadow falling over him. Someone came. Water droplets fell from above, freezing instantly on his cheeks and lips. The abrupt sensation set a fierce storm raging inside him, clamoring to be let out. Odin! Save me, father! He cried out in his mind. But no sound broke through his frost sealed lips. Set me free from this prison!

The shadow deepened. Air, subtle as a breath, frosted on his face as more droplets fell on his eyelids and lips. This time, a chill brush of wet fingertips smoothed the salty beads over his skin and on his mouth. The touch sent a spark of heat racing through Karr’s chest, straight into his heart. All at once, that stone-cold organ started beating again. Agony struck him as the muscle, so long unused, began to pump against the frozen cage that imprisoned it. He couldn’t scream to release the pain. Try as he might, it was no use. In the midst of this torment, the softest sensation hovered on his lips. Soothing warmth then the sweetest pressure ever sent even more heat coursing through his cursed form.

As soon as the feeling had come, it left, replaced by the small tug of a delicate hand on his wrist. A burst of wind filled the air as the leaden weight on his chest gradually lightened.

His sword!

No!

That thought and the warmth from the kiss on his lips roared through him. A thousand fissures cracked through the ice in his veins, muscles and internal organs. The shield of cold on the seams of his eyes shattered. With great pain, he finally opened them. The top of the cave he’d been cursed to remain in for eternity filled his vision like an ocean of bright white crystal. Blue and white stalagmites hung threateningly above. Willing more movement into his bones, Karr flexed the tendons in his neck, cracking more ice there. With effort, he turned his head, barely an inch, and beheld the most beautiful creature in all the gods’ great creation. An icy fall of hair, pale white skin and amethyst eyes sparkling with sea water stared back at him. This being he saw had freed him from the curse! His eyes went to the full, pale lips that had just touched his own. They’d been what had sent life back into his heart.

He tried to smile, but the ice had yet to break free from his lips. The muscles in his hands sprang to life, however, tendons and bones stretching with the need to touch her, to feel. The female’s eyes widened with fear. More heat spread into Karr’s arms as he flexed his fingers and moved his hands. The urge to reassure her warred with the intense pain he felt as he tried to rise off the stone slab he’d lain on for so long. Before he could move, the ethereal being wrenched the sword completely off his chest. She held it aloft, her purpose clear as she made ready to stab him through the heart with his own weapon! When Karr blinked, the water maiden stopped. She stared at him wide eyed, a strange and sorrowful look coming over her face. Breath escaped her lips in several cloudy puffs before, finally, she shook her silvery head, clutched the sword to her chest, then slid down beyond the edge of the slab. A great splash followed her descent, water spraying up into the air, landing on Karr in a shower of droplets. He managed to roll onto his side in time to see his sword and the selkie slip into the cold sea through a ragged circle on the floor of the cave. Dark gray water lapped at the ice in her wake, erasing all sight of her. The heavy weight of his frozen bones dragged him off the stone slab, pulling him toward those fathomless depths.

2

Isdra shot through the water like a torpedo, the sword of legend clutched to her chest. She had it! It had been so easy to get. Aside from the distracting sight of the warrior, that is. But that was just… she didn’t know what that was.

As soon as she’d risen from the water’s surface inside the cave and saw the Norseman lying there, she’d forgotten her purpose for being there. She’d been unable to think. Under her selskin, her body had reacted in a way that made her squirm even now, swimming away through the ocean’s depths. Her mind raced back through everything that had just happened. As soon as she’d pushed up out of the water in the sea cave, her legs had manifested—that was one ridiculous thing the humans’ myths had wrong about mermaids and selkies, no Selkeen worth their skin would lie about, floundering on rocks by the sea with their fins still on—then she’d stepped up to the slab and looked down on the warrior.

His chiseled features had stunned her. Perfectly preserved since the days of the Vikings, the Elder Witches’ curse hadn’t diminished his good looks. A thin layer of ice had coated his skin and clothing. He wore leather armor, a dark muslin tunic and a fur cape clasped at the top with some sort of metal symbol like the ones Isdra remembered seeing in her Earth friends’ museum in Reykjavik. She couldn’t have recognized the style or what it denoted if she’d tried right then though, because she was so struck by the beautiful man wearing it.

He was big, as big as any Selkeen warrior she knew. She spent her days around fighting men, their bodies honed by training and warfare. She never looked at them with anything more than admiration for their fighting prowess. In Seaverse, there was no time for silly infatuations, no energy to waste on courting or relationships. For many years, the tribes of the Underwater Realm had fought one another beneath the magic shield that hid them from the rest of the worlds. Erected to stop the spread of a disease that had been weaponized against them by their mutual enemy—an alien race known as the Lorna—the shield kept them safe from outside forces. It hid their location on the seabed in the precarious in-between dimension of their realm, but it cut off their supply of water from Seaverse’s sacred mountain. The disease had infected mainly the females of their kind, killing and leaving many a child motherless, as Isdra had been. Without the free flow of their world’s rivers, Seaverse’s inhabitants suffered still more anguish. It all caused the three main tribes of the Selkeen that remained in the plague’s aftermath to war with one another. The citizens of the Arelani, the Borai and the Oontoi turned their thoughts to battle with little energy for anything else. Most of the time, their rulers dictated their couplings to create alliances and provide offspring to continue the fighting. In all her nineteen years, Isdra had never looked on a man with anything other than either respect for his skill or disdain for his lack thereof.

But her first glance at the golden-haired man on the stone slab proved a different experience altogether. When she’d first arrived at the cave and slipped up out of the ice floor’s opening, she hadn’t been able to resist inspecting him. His broad chest didn’t move with breath in his frozen state. The witches’ curse must have kept his heartbeat interminably slow. His faint pulse probably only occurred once every few hours, and barely at that. The stillness of his body did nothing to diminish the look of fierce strength the warrior must have possessed in his day. His long hair rested below his shoulders, warrior’s braids woven into its shining strands at his temples. His muscled build had withstood the test of time under the witches’ enchantment. Even a thick layer of ice and his thick Viking leathers couldn’t hide that. The skin on his hands and his handsome face shone with a mix of sun, gold and wind. His bearded jaw jutted with pride even in repose, but his lips were what had held her entranced.

As she’d stared down at him, her tongue darted out to lick cold droplets from the ocean off her own lips. Her selskin kept her body safe from pressure and from freezing temperatures, but in that moment, she’d felt too hot inside it. That was something that had never happened before. When she’d leaned over the warrior for a better look, her heart had pounded fast and hard. She’d given her head a vigorous shake to clear it, sending icy drops of water flying throughout the tight space of the cave. Some landed on the man’s cheeks and lips. Again, her tongue had darted out. After that, she didn’t know what came over her. She’d desperately needed a taste of those salty beads. Before she could think about it, she’d leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Warmth spread from her mouth, down into the rest of her, melting away the cold from the northern waters she’d swam through to reach the cave in an instant. As quickly as she’d kissed him, Isdra had pulled back. She didn’t know what had come over her to make her kiss a stranger like that. And a sleeping one at that! Someone who was as good as dead! She’d never kissed anyone before. Her body’s reaction hadn’t been at all what she’d expected. The heat…

Then, when she’d pulled out her dagger and cut through the knot of rope that tied the sword to the warrior’s body, a blast of wind had whooshed through the cave from out of nowhere. Before she could wonder about it, the Viking had moved. Then he’d opened his eyes.

In that moment, she’d been unable to move. It wasn’t out of fear that she’d frozen. She feared nothing, certainly not a cursed human. She despised the wars going on in Seaverse and never wished to join in the killing of other Selkeen, but that hadn’t stopped her from training in her father’s military ranks, though the king ignored her efforts. His thoughts about females on the battlefield didn’t suffer any antiquated mores, none of the Arelani’s did, unlike the other Selkeen tribes. King Morar’s disinterest fell more in line with the idea that Isdra was a second child. All his energy had gone toward honing her twin brother Farrel for the crown. Until a marriage of alliance that would benefit the kingdom presented itself, she was of no use to him, try as she might to prove herself. Until the day of Farrel’s death, she’d been as good as invisible to Morar.

The warrior in the cave had seen her, though. When his amber-colored eyes had opened as she’d tried to twist the sword out of his hands, she’d stopped. Despite the cold, the heat inside her had intensified, spreading through her chest, deep down into her middle. She hadn’t been able to tear her eyes away from the Viking’s stare. Irises like dark gold jewels held her in a trance for several moments and she’d ceased breathing. That small lapse had nearly cost her everything.

She’d ripped her gaze and the sword away from the warrior, holding the weapon in the air above him. The Spirit Assassins’ instructions were for her to stab him through the heart with The Sword of Ice. She’d meant to carry out that task. Then the warrior had moved, just barely—a blink of his eyes—and she’d stopped. As if in slow motion, she’d watched the shadow of his long black lashes fall over his cheekbones. Then they’d opened, and he’d stared at her again. Something had lurched within her, punching the inside of her chest until she’d gasped. Every ounce of strength drained out of her arms at once, and all she’d been able to do was leave as soon as she could before she lost all control. Clutching the sword to her chest, she’d plunged back into the water through the hole in the cave floor.

She hadn’t completed the Spirit Assassins’ deadly assignment, but how would they know? Their leader, Viggo, hadn’t come with her, had he? He certainly hadn’t put on a wet suit and joined her on this dive himself. He’d tossed her selskin to her, then told her to bring him back The Sword of Ice or the mercenaries he led who hunted otherworlders would kill her.

She thought back to their meeting a day ago when he’d produced her skin.

“How did you get this?” she’d sputtered.

“Your fish skin suit, you mean?” He’d drawled. “Don’t worry about the how, darlin. Your only concern now is what you’re gonna use it for.”

“And what is that?”

“I came across a relation of yours. The name Morar mean anything to you?”

“Father,” Isdra had gasped.

“Mmhmm. Daddy has a proposition for his little lost girl. How ‘bout it? You ready to go home, princess?”

“Home?”

“Back to Seaverse.”

Hearing the word “home” lifted Isdra’s hopes like nothing else could. She’d been unable to help the way her eyes lit up.

“On one condition…” Viggo had lifted one finger up in the air, “well, make that a couple.”

“He’ll lift my banishment?” Isdra barely heard the Assassins’ leader in her excitement.

“Conditions, like I said.” Viggo had smiled, the expression sinister looking on him.

“What do I have to do? I’ll do anything.”

“I know you will, darlin. There’s an ancient artifact I need you to get… a sword.”

“What kind of sword?”

“Well, now you know it couldn’t be just any old sword.” He’d winked one of his beady eyes at her. “This one’s special. That’s all you need to know.”

“How does my father fit into all of this?”

“He has a special interest in our operations, as a matter of fact. But that’s none of your concern.”

Isdra could only stare at Viggo then. Why would Morar have an interest in people that hunt and kill Selkeen?

“All you need to worry about is bringing me the sword.”

He’d then explained its location, hidden deep within a cave under the cliffs about an hour outside Reykjavik.

“Morar’s giving you this one last chance, honey. I suggest you take it and don’t ask questions. Otherwise, you’ll most likely end up in some common grave of spirit people… freaks like you, others.”

He gave her a few more details after that. Mainly, that she had to stab the one who guarded the sword through the heart with it, once she had it.

“Who guards the sword?” She’d asked.

“A man, some warrior of legend. Don’t worry, he won’t give you any trouble. He’s under an enchantment.”

The ancient weapon felt strange in her hands as she swam away with it. It thrummed with age old magic and power that she felt even in the depths of the ocean. Viggo said the sword was the key to her getting back to her world… and back into her father’s favor. Not that she’d ever been in King Morar’s favor ever, but at least she’d get a second chance… she hoped. That Morar had contacted the Assassins and given them her selskin spoke volumes. He did care. He wanted her to come home. Farrel’s death had been her fault. Banishment was no less than she deserved. But if her father wanted her back among her tribe, then maybe he’d forgiven her. Maybe he’d finally let her do more to help her people. Her one desire had always been for the warring in Seaverse to end. She’d been so close to proving that she could be the one to bring about that peace.

A few meters away from the underwater opening of the cave, Isdra felt the water move. It rolled over her body, causing her to pause. Pulling upright on her tailfin, she looked back over her shoulder. Hanging suspended in the sea depths, her Selkeen markings and eyes glowed bright enough to pierce through the darkness. Through a current of bubbles, she made out the Viking’s body plummeting into the deep. He’d fallen through the hole! His heavy, frozen body wasn’t working. Down he sank. Isdra’s heart lurched.

Blinking, she hugged the stolen sword to her chest, swallowed, then set her jaw and turned away. He’d drown and be done. She wouldn’t have stabbed him through the heart per Viggo’s instructions, but he’d be dead at least. That should satisfy the Spirit Assassins enough to honor their agreement… she hoped. A nagging feeling in her gut pulled her back around. The man fell down, down, becoming nothing more than a dark cloud in the vast midnight of the north Atlantic Ocean.

Don’t think about him, Isdra. He’s not your concern.

With a force of will, she turned her back on the plummeting warrior. No sooner did she spin around then flashing red scales blinded her vision. A sharp tug ripped the sword out of her hands, and the blurry red mass vanished.

Her way home!

She whipped around in a circle. But the creature, whatever it was, had already disappeared along with The Sword of Ice. Gods! Which way had it gone? If only she’d worked quicker in that cave and hadn’t wasted so much time fantasizing about handsome, golden-haired Vikings! Now she had to track the relic down… again. This time, in the middle of the blasted ocean!

Just as she determined which direction to swim, something grabbed her from behind. Two hard as iron arms wrapped around her as her back crashed into what felt like solid rock. Gold-blonde strands floated in her periphery—the warrior! She rocked her tail and kicked, to no avail. The Viking man’s arms encased her like steel bands.

She kicked again, then threw her head back hard. A watery crunch battered her skull, but the hard arms around her released. She swam forward. A quick look back over her shoulder presented her with a cloud of blood stemming from the warrior’s nose. It surrounded his whole face.

His arms went limp and his eyes closed as a halo of gold hair floated around him in the bloody water. He hung lifeless in the arctic water for a moment before slipping downward once more. Isdra darted back around, searching the water with her glowing eyes, trying to catch sight of red scales or a flash of the sword. Both had vanished. Her mind filled with all sorts of desperate thoughts. To come so close, then have salvation ripped away by some mindless fish!

A whoosh of bubbles clouded around her. Another nagging twist of guilt gripped her chest as she made to swim off to look for the sword. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the warrior’s form slip down out of sight, beyond where the sea ledge dipped into nothingness.

Blasting through the dark water, she cut through the depths of the ridge. The water turned nearly opaque in its blackness here, hard even for her to see through with her Selkie vision and the glow of her scales. She pushed forward blindly, her arms flattened against her body for greater speed. Finally, she smashed into something hard. She’d found him! Wrapping her arms around the warrior’s solid body, she pulled his immense back to her front, then pushed up with her tail. Dragging him through the thick icy water, she swam toward the surface.

Thanks so much for reading! Stay tuned for more excerpts, teasers and story extras as release day gets closer.

*Note: I’m looking for readers to join my ARC team. If you are interested in reading a pre release copy of Storm Tide and helping to spread the word about the book, contact me at amandavshane@amandavshane.com or in a reply to this email. (If you haven’t read any of the Tides of Atlantis books yet, ask me about the TOA starter pack, exclusive to my read and review team.)

In other news, here’s a look at what I’m reading, as well as some new releases that have had me piling more books onto my TBR:

My Current Read:

I’m about halfway through Brigid Kemerer’s A Curse So Dark And Lonely and I’m really enjoying it. Have you read it?