Aatos
From clay, man was made.
And from woman, came all of existence.
Aatos stepped cautiously on the ground.
He didn't know that forest. He knew nothing of those lands, in fact. He didn't know—and didn't dare predict—what kinds of demonic creatures might be lurking.
He couldn't even pray for Odin's protection—he doubted his powers reached the territory of other gods.
He had crossed the North Sea with his father, a merchant, for the first time. He hadn't done it before because, as the firstborn, he had the obligation to take charge of his father's business while he was away. His father, Birger, was already aging, and therefore, he insisted on reversing roles while he was still alive to help him.
He had come solely and exclusively for his obligations. Nothing about the southern lands attracted him—no matter how much more developed they seemed, or how much less cold it was. He was a suspicious man. In his view, adventures were only good if they were short-lived.
And his return trip to Scandinavia, his home, was scheduled for a few months from now.
‘I’ve barely arrived and I already want to go back.’ He concluded mentally.
He remembered Astrid, the woman he had known throughout his childhood: her golden hair, always braided, her sharp laugh, the freckles on her face. Their families were close ties; he knew she expected a marriage proposal from him soon.
He had nothing against Astrid; she was beautiful and pleasant company—though ridiculously short. What Aatos didn't have was a hurry to solidify an engagement so soon.
A damp breeze brushed against his face. Startled, he looked around with triple the attention. He couldn't explain exactly what, but something in that place gave him the impression that he should flee as quickly as possible. A dense energy, perhaps. “Everything here gives me the creeps.”
He hurried away so he could get out of there at once. He needed to gather more dry leaves to pack the perishables for his father’s business—soon to be his own business.
There were those who sold leaves for this purpose at the market, but according to old Birger, “Why buy something I can get for free?”
Aatos rolled his eyes. “You say that because you’re not the one who has to venture into this sinister forest.” And to his despair, the proximity to the coast forced him to explore further into the woods to find the dry leaves.
The sun was beginning to set, further limiting the already rare light among the tall trees. Sharpening his ears, Aatos managed to hear the sound of a nearby river flowing—the water lapping against the rocks was music to his ears. He sighed with relief, for he was dying of thirst.
He walked with long strides, approaching the water source.
It was then that she heard a female voice singing.
She felt adrenaline rush through her veins. She pressed her ears violently, closing her eyes. “Mermaids! Damn it!”
‘I can’t die now!’ He convinced himself. ‘My father needs me! My family! Who will support Astrid?’
Covering her ears, however, wasn’t enough to completely block out the sound. Gradually, he allowed herself to pay more attention to the voice. It was sweet, melodious, and soft.
He felt his steps being guided towards the riverbank – if not by magic, then by curiosity. He crouched down and hid among the plants so that the beautiful song wouldn’t be interrupted.
He spotted, on the other bank, a woman with her back turned. ‘Probably Celtic...’ He concluded. She was standing with her arms raised to the heavens, in front of what appeared to be an altar she had built. The young woman's long, curly brown hair cascaded down her entire back. He saw no one else accompanying her.
Several candles were lit on the altar—which Aatos considered slightly dangerous, given they were in a forest. But perhaps this forest was so damp that even thrown torches wouldn't be able to set it ablaze...
‘And the damned dry leaves... I'll tell my father to give up and buy them all at once...’
From atop the altar, Aatos saw a deer skull. Its antlers were large and branching, indicating they belonged to an alpha male in life.
Aatos scratched the back of his neck. ‘Celtic gods are definitely strange.’
The woman turned, surprising him. Her translucent white silk dress didn't cover what should have been covered—and it was open in the front.
Aatos felt his face burn at the sight of the woman's nakedness—though shame wasn't the only thing he felt. He had to make a conscious effort to raise his gaze to the Celtic woman's face.
And his eyes couldn't look away so easily.
She might not have been a mermaid, but he was enchanted.
And with great ease, he completely forgot about Astrid.
