He laughed when he spotted them.
“Ah, I wondered where you were, young misses!” He winked.
Sylja meandered over and smiled coquettishly. “Need help with anything?”
Orm sighed heavily. Hirka felt for him. He could get in a lot of trouble with Sylja’s mother if she found out he gave them wine in exchange for help, but who could say no to Sylja? So the two girls moved a couple boxes of spices, some pork sausages from Smále, ten pairs of boots, and a box of books. Nothing much, but they were rewarded all the same. Orm took them aside and gave them a green bottle that had been almost completely hidden in his fist. He claimed it was the best wine from Himlifall’s south-facing slopes. He pinched Sylja’s cheek, then told them to get going before they got him into trouble.
Sylja tied the bottle to her waistband, letting it hang inside her skirt. Then they ran as fast as the bottle permitted up the rise between the quay and the blacksmith’s house. They sat on the “bench,” a depression in the rock that water and wind had carved out through generations, laughing and gasping for breath. Hirka removed the cork using her pocketknife and took a mouthful before handing the bottle to Sylja. The taste of preserved berries washed across her tongue and she closed her eyes. Orm hadn’t been lying. It was good wine. Last time he’d given them something so sour it was barely drinkable, but that hadn’t stopped them from drinking it.
Hirka smiled as warmth spread through her body. This was what the earth tasted like. Just like tea. This is as close as I can get to binding.
She took another swig that was even bigger than the first. Sylja was giggling already, gushing about the arms of one of the men on the quayside.
Hirka watched her. Sylja was the flower to her stone. The harp music to her washboard rattle. Sylja curtsied where Hirka beat a hasty retreat, and where Hirka would sweat, Sylja always came out smelling like flowers. No wonder she always got her way.
With Rime too?
Sylja had spoken to him, with that same smile and that same scent of flowers. Had he helped her? A weight settled like a stone in Hirka’s stomach, and she could feel it growing. The wine certainly didn’t help. She couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Have you spoken to Rime since he—”
“Did I not tell you?!” Sylja interrupted, her eyes bright with scandal. “He came for dinner the other day. Mother was shocked that Ilume didn’t come, but it didn’t really matter. He’s so handsome!”
Hirka couldn’t even bring herself to nod. Sylja continued obliviously.
“But he’s so peculiar, and so stubborn. Quite awkward, really. I don’t think I could be interested in him. And he wouldn’t leave me alone all evening!”
Hirka’s breath hitched.
“It was really quite embarrassing, Hirka. You should have seen it!”
“Seen what?” Hirka heard herself ask. Why? She really didn’t want to know the answer.
“You know …” Sylja brought a hand to her shapely breast and laughed.
Hirka swallowed.
“What’s the matter with you?” Sylja took the bottle from Hirka and drank the last of the wine. Hirka stared out across the black sea. If you traveled far enough, you came to Brott. Beyond Brott, there was nothing. How far would you have to travel to get to where she came from? Was it even possible to travel there?
“We’re leaving.” The tears started the moment she said it. She knew it was true, and it was as if it hadn’t been true until she said it out loud.
“Huh?” Sylja slurred.
“We’re going away.” Hirka hugged her knees, making herself as small as she could. Her throat tightened, and suddenly her tears were soaking through the knees of her trousers.
Sylja sat up straight. “You certainly are not!”
Hirka couldn’t help but laugh, even mid-sob. She dried her tears. It was so typical of Sylja to expect reality to bend to her will. As far as she was concerned, if she said they weren’t leaving, they weren’t leaving.
“We have to.” Hirka knew the conversation was taking a dangerous turn. She couldn’t answer the questions she knew were coming.
“Why?”
Hirka tried to get up. She needed to get out of there. She couldn’t stay. She was a child of Odin. And she had lied to Rime. Her legs wouldn’t cooperate. She took a couple unsteady steps before tumbling over. She lay on her side, looking at the empty bottle on the ground in front of her. Sylja asked again.
“Why?”
Everything looked green through the bottle.
“The Rite. We need to leave because of the Rite.”
“Travel, you mean? Everyone travels to the Rite. Wait till you see my tail rings, Hirka! Pure gold and shaped like butterflies.” Sylja beamed.
Hirka wiped her nose on the sleeve of her tunic. “Not travel. Leave.”
Sylja seemed to realize that Hirka was being serious. She lay down beside her. “When?”
“I don’t know.”
Hirka watched Sylja’s face distort through the green glass. Her nose had been pulled all the way up to her eyes and her mouth was half-open in a grimace.
It was as if she’d started to rot.
BETRAYAL
Hirka lifted her clothes out of the chest and laid them on the bed. She didn’t have a lot. Two tunics, a shirt, and trousers. Some underwear and socks. Even a green dress Father had bought in a moment of weakness, but Hirka had never worn dresses.
Kuro’s claws scraped against the wooden floor as he investigated the empty chest. The raven had never ventured inside before, but the conditions on this particular evening would have made any living creature seek shelter. Rain lashed at the cabin as it groaned under the onslaught of the wind. The oil lamps flickered, proving that not even Father could make walls keep out weather like this.
Hirka looked around the empty room. Everything she owned could fit in the big chest, but she was still going to leave a few things behind. She ran her fingers over her collection of stones. Large and small. Some of them rough against her fingers, others as smooth as Kuro’s beak. She gathered them all up into her arms and went out into the hearth room. Father was sitting in his chair, waving a stick around in an attempt to close the roof hatch properly.
“I’m not taking these.” Hirka put the stones down by the hearth. The embers danced in the draft from the chimney.
Father put the stick down and wiped his hands on a rag. “Shall I put the soup on?”
Just then Hirka thought she heard something. She didn’t reply to Father. She looked up at the roof hatch, but it looked secure.
There it was again! Someone was knocking on the door. In this weather? Hirka felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Something was wrong. She could smell it.
She met her father’s gaze. They looked around, both seized by the same thought. Their lives had been packed into chests and sacks. The walls were bare. Any idiot who came in would realize they were on the move. Hirka grabbed the sacks, getting ready to chuck them into her room, but Father stopped her.
“Wait, Hirka …” The knocking was more insistent now. Father glanced at the long chest they used as a bench. That was where they kept the things they rarely used. Like his sword. Hirka’s mind started to race. Could they climb out the bedroom window? No. The shutters were closed from the outside because of the weather. The roof hatch? She could manage it, but Father …
She reached for her pocketknife without knowing what she was afraid of.
A woman’s voice called from outside. Father wheeled himself over and opened the door a crack. A brown-clad figure squeezed through, along with a blast of wind and rain. Father closed the door and it was quiet again.
Their visitor lowered her hood. Hirka knew she ought to be relieved to see Ramoja, but her heart was still racing.
Ramoja took a couple steps forward as she pushed her braids out of her face. Her cloak was saturated with rain, stretched taut across her shoulders. Kuro cawed from his perch above the door. Ramoja smiled and nodded to the raven before speaking to Fathe
r or Hirka.
“I thought I was done for out there,” she said. Father laughed, even though it wasn’t particularly funny. Ramoja eyed the chests and sacks strewn around the room. The empty shelves. She closed her eyes for a moment, as if to collect herself. Then she turned to Father.
“I don’t know where you’re going, Thorrald,” she said. “And it’s none of my business either.” Her words were slow and clear. It was like she was speaking in code. Trying to say something without actually saying it. “But if you’re intending to avoid the Rite, there’s something you should know. The Council already knows you’re leaving.”
Father stared at Ramoja, his eyes narrowed doubtfully. Hirka suddenly felt cold. She stepped back into the shadows. Ramoja glanced at her but carried on mercilessly. “If you’d hoped to slip away unnoticed, you’re too late.”
Father tightened his grip on his chair and hunched his shoulders as if he might stand up at any moment. “We have nothing to hide,” he said hoarsely. “People travel all the time. What business of the Council’s is it if ordinary people—”
“But she’s not ordinary, is she?” Ramoja took a step closer to Father as her words burrowed into Hirka’s chest. What was never supposed to happen, had happened. What no one was supposed to know, was known.
“It’s too late, Thorrald. Don’t leave unless you really have to. It might be the death of both of you.”
“Why? Tell me what you know, woman!” Father growled.
“Kolkagga.”
Father slumped in his chair. Hirka couldn’t move. It was only a word, but it was weighted with fear from stories she could no longer remember. Kolkagga. The black shadows. Assassins. The Council’s secret weapon. Specters that drained all life from those who defied the Seer. The already dead.
Nonsense! Tall tales used to frighten children!
But they were tall tales capable of making Father cower before her very eyes. Rumors Sylja had whispered about only a few days ago. Hirka pressed herself against the wall. The shadows suddenly seemed alive and listening. She felt trapped. She couldn’t breathe.
Kolkagga.
Ramoja put her hood up again.
“I’m telling you like it is, Thorrald,” she said. “The Rite is a point of honor for them, this year more than ever. They will send the black shadows.”
“Why are you telling us this?” Father’s voice was choked. Hirka stepped out of the shadows. Ramoja’s face softened when she saw her.
“To settle a debt,” she said.
“We can look after ourselves,” Father replied. “No one will lay a hand on her. No one.” His voice was unrecognizable. Hirka felt a sudden warmth blossom in her chest amid all the despair.
Ramoja’s gaze swept over his wheeled chair. “I know you’re strong, Thorrald. Other men would have withered away in their beds long ago. But that chair and your will are all you have to protect her with. It wouldn’t be a fair fight, even against ordinary men. And Kolkagga are not ordinary men. You can’t run from them.”
Hirka waited for an outburst from Father, but it didn’t come. He knew she was right. His lips pulled down into a grimace. “So there’s nowhere we can go.”
Ramoja had turned to leave, but hesitated. “The enemy of your enemy is your friend, Thorrald. If it means so much to you, there’s only one place to go. You know that.”
Ravnhov. She doesn’t want to say it.
It occurred to Hirka that Ramoja was risking her own safety to tell them they were in danger. Hirka ran over to her. “Ramoja!”
Ramoja turned and Hirka searched for words, but she didn’t know what to say. Nothing came out.
Ramoja smiled and nodded as if she’d said it anyway. Then she opened the door and disappeared out into the storm. The door didn’t close properly behind her. It banged in the wind.
Hirka felt the rain on her face. She stared out the door as if all the monsters in the world had gathered outside. How could Ramoja know that they were leaving?
The ravens. Of course. She had access to the Council’s letters.
But how could the Council know?
Ilume.
The wind knocked the broom over. The lamp on the table went out. Hirka slammed the door shut and drew the bolt. She stood leaning against it. There was only one way Ilume could know about her: Rime had realized what she was and told his grandmother everything.
Because I lied. And in the grand scheme of Rime An-Elderin’s life, I am nothing.
Hirka rattled the bolt and kicked the door. Then she kicked it again. And again. She kicked and kicked, wanting Father to stop her, but he didn’t.
THE MIGHT
It was a gray morning. The storm had worn itself out during the night, but the occasional gust of wind still tore at Hirka as she made her way up Vargtind, as if to demonstrate that nature wouldn’t give up that easily. The wind grew stronger the higher she climbed. The slope seemed steeper than before, the thicket pricklier, but she didn’t care. She was fuming and needed to get up there. To get to Rime. It occurred to her that it would always be like this. He would always be elevated. She would always have to climb. She was Hirka. That was all. Hirka, Thorrald’s girl. No. She wasn’t even that. She was a child of Odin.
She climbed over the final crag and collapsed onto the flat ground. No one was there. Bushes grew around the foundations of the ruins, where the castle had once towered above Elveroa and the sea. That was all.
Where in Slokna’s name was Rime? Had he left? Or maybe it was too early? Hirka looked down at the quay, but the fishing boats hadn’t gone out during the night. Disappointed seagulls circled above empty barrels.
Rime had betrayed her. That was why he hadn’t turned up: because he didn’t dare face her.
Coward. He can rot in Slokna.
“Let me guess,” said a husky voice behind her. She leaped to her feet and there he was. “You’ve worked out you’re better off telling the truth?” He gave her a crooked smile and folded his arms across his chest.
His accusation caught her off guard. She’d stormed up here in a fit of rage. She ought to be the one folding her arms across her chest. She was the one who’d been betrayed. He’d ruined everything. Made it impossible for them to leave.
But she couldn’t find any evidence of that in his face. His eyes were laughing. His smile was genuine. His lips could have belonged to one of Hlosnian’s sculptures. Perfectly chiseled.
Hirka lowered her gaze. Rime hadn’t betrayed her. If he knew she was one of Odin’s kin, he wouldn’t be standing in front of her like he was now. No one would smile at the rot. He still had no idea. The Council had found out in some other way.
So what was she doing here? She tried to slow her breathing, but her lungs weren’t cooperating. The storm wasn’t over. It had just moved inside her. What was she going to do? Rime couldn’t help. No one could help.
They’ll send the shadows after me.
She felt Rime’s hand on her shoulder.
“Hey, take it easy. I’ll try to help you.”
“You’re leaving soon …” was all she could get out.
“Giving up before you’ve started?” he asked. “One point to me, then.”
Hirka looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back.
“No, I didn’t think it would be that simple,” he said.
He asked her to breathe more deeply. Relax. Sit on the ground. Get up again. Run. Rest. Think. Concentrate.
Hirka could see that he finally believed her. That she couldn’t bind. But no matter what he asked her to do, she still felt nothing. If there was a life force flowing through Ym, it wasn’t meant for the likes of her, that was for sure.
Rime paced back and forth with his hands behind his back. “It’s not so much that you’re not feeling it,” he said, mostly to himself, it seemed. “It’s that you don’t even know where or what it is.”
Here he was, an An-Elderin, looking at her as if she were missing a foot. Or a tail. Hirka felt powerless, as if she had lost every contest between them, a
ll at once. As if she’d fallen when they climbed, drowned when they swam, stumbled when they ran. And here he was, pacing back and forth, rubbing it in. What was wrong with her?
It had been a long morning. Rime rolled his head to stretch the muscles in his neck. He clearly wasn’t used to sitting still. “Have you tried with stone?” He came toward her again. There was optimism in his voice, but not in his eyes. “The Might can build up in stone …” The optimism faded from his voice as well. “Like a store. If you lay your palms on—”
“Rime—”
“Do what I do,” he interrupted. And for the umpteenth time, he posed with his hands slightly out to the side, his head raised and his eyes closed. He looked like he was waiting for it to rain. Hirka watched his face relax. He looked like he could stand there forever. A beautiful statue. Filled with peace. He started to bind.
The only thing Hirka was filled with was disappointment. She would have given anything to share in that same peace, that same life. But she wasn’t like him. He stood there in all his glory, elevated by his family’s history and the Seer’s blessings. The entire world embraced him. She had no place here. She was a fool for not realizing sooner. She knew that now.
“It’s not meant for people like me.” It was one of the most honest things she had ever said to him. She felt as if her heart had been laid bare, and it was terrifying. She turned to leave.
Rime gripped her shoulder and spun her around. For a moment, Hirka thought he had struck her. Her body was paralyzed and needed to fall, but it stayed standing despite itself. Suspended. Immobile. Blood pumped through her veins as if the Stryfe were ripping through her. Rime’s hand was locked around her shoulder. Hirka could see the shock in his eyes. He stood as immobile as she did. It felt like her body might be torn to pieces. She was dying.
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