Free The Divining by Barbara Wood Page B

muscle ached—the one with the owl and moonstone circlet came to her side. "Here," she said with a smile. "Mushroom broth. It will give you strength."
         Ulrika rubbed her eyes as, once again, the two elderly women seemed to grow young. In the flickering torchlight, their wrinkled skin became smooth, their milky eyes turned luminous, their white hair was miraculously black.
         "Why did you come here?" the one with the moonstone asked. So far, her companion had yet to speak.
         Ulrika blinked. They were old again. "I came to warn my father's people of the coming invasion. But I was too late."
         Ancient eyes filled with wisdom settled on Ulrika's face and stayed there for a long moment while outside, night birds called and the wind whistled. Finally, the caretaker of the grove said, "That is not why you came here. That was not your purpose. You were brought here for a different destiny, daughter." She pointed to the wooden cross that hung about Ulrika's neck. "You wear the sacred symbol of Odin. You are the servant of the gods, you are doing their bidding."
         "Why would they choose me to be their servant?"
         "Because, daughter, you have inherited a special gift." She paused. "You do have a special gift, do you not?"
         The old woman waited, while her companion sat in watchful silence.
         The bowl of broth stopped at Ulrika's lips. She lowered it to her lap and said, "What special gift?"
         A long bony arm reached out, and for an instant Ulrika glimpsed smooth skin and strong muscles. The old woman touched Ulrika's forehead and whispered, "It is called the Divining."
         The smoke from the sputtering torch seemed to grow stronger. Ulrika's head swam for a moment, and then she said, "Do you mean my visions? But it is an illness."
         The woman shook her head, casting platinum highlights off her white hair. "It is a gift, daughter. You are afraid of the visions. You must not be.

You must embrace them because they came from the gods and are therefore sacred."
         "How do you know this?"
         "You say you are the daughter of Wulf. The Divining is in his bloodline."
         "But my visions make no sense. Nor can I command them. They are like random dreams that come and go and are beyond interpretation. What sort of gift is that?"
         "You will learn to control them and read them."
         "To what purpose? I have no wish to know the future."
         "That is not the purpose of your visions."
         "Then what?" Ulrika set the bowl aside. "What good do such nonsensical visions do for me?"
         "They are not for you, daughter. You must use your gift to help others, not yourself."
         Ulrika massaged her temples. "I still do not understand."
         "Your gift has been handed down to you from a long line of women who possessed it. But your gift is young and undisciplined, which is why your visions make no sense. You must learn to tame your gift, control it. Learn to use it to help others."
         "But what is the Divining?"
         "That you will learn when you learn discipline."
         "Who will teach me this discipline?"
         "It must come from within yourself. But there will be teachers. You will not know them. Only when you have left them behind will you know who they were. That is why you must open your mind and heart to all whom you encounter in your life's path. Sleep again, child. Rest. Tomorrow you must return to where you belong. Tomorrow you begin a new and special journey."
         Beneath the soft comfort of wolf pelts, in the coziness of the forest hut, Ulrika closed her eyes and slipped away into deep, welcome sleep.
         When she awoke to find sunlight streaming through the overhead twigs and branches, her memory of the night before came back. As she bathed in a nearby stream and refreshed herself on a humble breakfast of mushrooms and acorns, Ulrika pondered the mysterious words the old woman had spoken.