by Julia Ember
From the water, the men shouted and thrashed. I drew my frozen leg back onto my skiff. My calf tingled with cold, but a slow smile spread over my face.
The sailor who had beaten me swam through the water toward my skiff. As he laid a hand on the boat, I plunged the dagger into his flesh. He withdrew his hand with a scream, and I kicked away from him, farther out into the open sea.
When I was twenty meters away, I stopped paddling to watch the chaos I’d created. I knew that I needed to keep going until I reached land, but I allowed myself a just a minute to watch my kidnappers die.
It’s not enough, I thought as they kicked through the water, only to be pulled down by a force beneath the waves. My smile slowly vanished. My rush of happiness faded. These men would die, but what of Haakon and all his thegns? These men were just brutes. They hadn’t given the order to sack my town. Watching them die didn’t bring me the kind of resolution I’d expected. Until Jarl Haakon himself paid for what he had done to my home—to my brother—it was never going to be enough.
* * *
The waves had carried my skiff to the ice shelf. My foot had gone numb from hours pressed against the hole in the bottom of the boat. A tingling sensation worked its way up my cramped calf. The Arctic sun beat down relentlessly. I was thirsty, but I forced myself to conserve the little fresh water I’d managed to steal.
When my skiff had bumped against the ice, I’d scrambled out and dragged it onto the ice behind me. If I was going to make it to the continent, I needed to find a way to repair my boat. The shelf was a vast expanse of desolate white. There were no trees for shelter or firewood. Gusts of wind blew cyclones of ice-dust, sharp as broken glass. I pulled my hood over my hair, then tied a rope to the skiff’s rowing bench. Wrapping a length of rope around my stomach, I began to trudge inland against the wind.
I walked for hours before I collapsed on the ice. I took out my water flask and allowed myself a few cautious sips. My throat burned, and I wanted to chug all of it, but until I found fresh snow and wood to make a fire, it was all the water I had.
I turned the boat upside down and crawled under it for shelter. As the space began to warm with my breath, I fought the urge to sleep. Those who slept on the ice didn’t always wake up. When I’d planned to sink the ship, I hadn’t expected the shelf to be so large. I thought I’d find solid land after a few miles. Impossibly heavy, my eyelids tried to drift shut. I pinched myself hard.
Cradling my arm in my lap, I focused on my tattoos. Surely my magic could show me a path. But when the map shifted and my surroundings came into clearer view, I had to bite my fist to stifle a scream. The ice shelf extended for miles in all directions. The map indicated that I should walk back the way I’d come and set sail again. But with the hole in my skiff, I’d never make it to the continent. The land beyond the ice-shelf was tundra; it would be harsh and freezing, but I might be able to use the sparse trees that grew there to repair my boat. I could build a fire and melt snow to refill my water flask. If my supply lasted long enough for me to get there.
The wind on the shelf had grown so strong that a draft blew through the hull of my skiff. I turned the boat over again and was nearly blown down by the strength of the Arctic gale. My lips were cracked and bleeding. I uncorked the bottle of fish grease and, pinching my nose, managed to swallow a few sips.
I trudged on, my whole body aching. The sun slowly dipped behind the horizon and left me in near darkness. Overhead, waves of green and purple light danced across the black sky. When my legs buckled, I flipped the skiff and climbed inside. I slept there until dawn, not sure I’d wake again.
In the morning, I devoured the stripped beef and swallowed a hasty gulp of fish grease. The endless ice stretched on ahead; the horizon was a continuous white cloud. An opening appeared on the ice. I squinted, wondering if I had started to hallucinate. Tiny, rippling waves appeared over the lip of the opening. A spray erupted, and, a moment later, the inquisitive face of a beluga whale popped up. I stumbled toward the hole in the ice. The beluga peered at me over the edge of the ice shelf. Three other whale-faces joined it.
One whale would yield more than enough meat and blubber to see me to land. I didn’t relish the idea of eating raw meat, but it could sustain me. I grabbed the hunting spear from the bottom of the skiff and crouched beside the hole in the ice.
The belugas were trapped in a space the size of a small pond. It was the only hole I’d seen in the ice for miles, the only place they would find to breathe until the shelf began to melt. I had never hunted a whale before. On the open ocean, it would have been impossible for me to land a whale alone. But maybe here, I would only have to kill it. The salt in the water might make the carcass float. I could pull it closer and then cut off what I needed.
I waited until a juvenile whale surfaced to breathe. When the dark gray calf drew near, I lunged forward and thrust my spear into the water. The whale ducked beneath the waves, unscathed. Tears stung my eyes. I knew nothing about hunting whales, but something inside me knew that this was my only chance. I was already so thirsty, so hungry. If I couldn’t do this, I’d die.
Wrapping my fur around my face to create a mask against the wind, I knelt beside the ice. My fingers curled around the freezing lip of the shelf. The water wouldn’t be much warmer than the ice. If I fell in, I wouldn’t get warm again.
One of the whales floated just beneath the surface. It watched me warily. I thrust my spear down. Just as the point broke the water, something grabbed it from below and tugged. I lay down on the ice and wrapped both hands around the spear’s shaft. But the pull was impossibly strong. One of the belugas must have grasped the tip of the spear in its mouth. I tried to hang on, scrambling to find purchase on the slick ice.
A blue-scaled hand emerged from the ocean. I dropped the shaft and crawled backward. What was that? My breath caught.
A girl pushed herself out of the breathing hole and onto the ice. Her long turquoise hair hung down to her waist. She was naked, but blue scales wound up her voluptuous body. She sat on the edge of the ice and swung a luminous, cerulean tail onto the shelf.
I rubbed my eyes. Mermaids were not real. Everyone knew that. They were fantasies, carved onto the bows of ships by sailors missing home. And yet, she stared at me with such intelligence in her bright, topaz eyes. Delicate freckles covered the bridge of her nose. Her shocked expression mirrored mine: curiosity and fear mingled. She watched me, not moving. I let out a shallow breath, as she slowly lay back on the ice and closed her eyes. I began to scoot across the ice toward my skiff. Without legs, I didn’t think she would be able to chase me. I didn’t want to be this close.
Her body began to glow. Her scales changed color from deep blue to pale sea-green. Light emanated from them and cloaked her in a halo. She spread her arms. A smile dimpled her cheeks as she bathed in the low, Arctic sun. Around her, the ice started to melt.
I took a sip from my flask and settled down to watch her. The glow in her scales receded. She sat up and stretched. Her eyes locked on mine. Behind her, two white beluga faces popped up from the water. The mermaid bent to stroke them and whisper.
A shiver that had nothing to do with the Arctic wind ran down my spine. Her voice was soft and rolled like waves. She spoke like the ocean and yet, I understood her words.
“You’ll be safe,” she murmured to the whales. “I stole the harpoon.”
I bit my lip. Maybe she had just hastened my death, not caused it. Even if I had been able to kill one of the whales, I’d be stuck on the ice shelf with no way home. The days would grow longer and the beluga pod would break free of their icy prison. But the way she looked at me—curious and a little bit playful—gave me another idea. I needed wood to make a fire and repair my ship. But if I could convince her to help me, I might survive. She could show me how to get to the ocean.
I crawled toward the mermaid. My arms were leaden from days of hauling the skiff across t
he ice. She could push me into the sea and drown me. What if mermaids ate people? Maybe that was why we all thought they were a myth: Anyone who had seen one had been devoured. But before I could reach her, she dove through the hole in the ice. Her topaz fins waved jubilantly in the air, and she disappeared into the black sea.
Five
Gormánuður
The Slaughter Month
October
After Ersel went ashore to scout, we dropped anchor in a natural cove and waited for her return. So close to the beach, the air lost its bite. A warm breeze rustled the sails and toyed with my hair. The ship hardly swayed on the calm waves. Most of the crew had drifted to sleep beside their benches. They’d huddled together, giving me a wide berth. Trygve and I kept watch.
With her gills, Ersel could stay under the water until she reached the harbor. From there, it would be easy to assess the layout of the town, as the outer walls only extended as far as the shore. She could report on where the sentries were posted and where they kept the remaining children—if there were any left alive. Despite the lie I’d told when the sailors had taken me, I wondered how long Haakon’s men would wait to see signs of magic before they started killing. Keeping live prisoners was a risk. Months had passed, and they would be anxious to sail home.
While we waited, I attempted to clean my axe. I used my knee to grip the handle and rubbed a cloth over the edge, keeping my eyes trained on Torstein’s slumbering back. He hadn’t said anything since our duel, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t plotting. I was sure my words had made an impression on him and the crew, but I still couldn’t decide if sparing his life had been a good decision. He would resent me even more now, and, once his fear had faded, his mind would turn to rebellion. If he hid his thoughts, I might not see mutiny coming until it was too late. My position on the ship would have been safer with his corpse in the sharks’ bellies.
I sighed and scrubbed harder at a smear of dried blood. It was too late to change my mind now. The axe slipped from my leg. Cursing under my breath, I picked it up. While I could still fight, some things had gotten much harder since I’d lost my left hand. Sometimes, I struggled to do everyday tasks, like lacing my boots or cutting my own meat. I was learning to do things in a new way, but it was taking time.
Trygve plucked the axe from my knee. “If you need help, all you need to do is ask. It has to be hard, adjusting…”
I glared at him, then seized my axe. “If you want to touch my weapons, you need to ask.”
He looked down at the deck; a flush stained his cheeks. “I’m just trying to be helpful.”
I felt a twinge of remorse. He was always trying to be helpful, but that was the problem. Since the day I’d landed on the beach behind his fishing hut, Trygve had done his utmost to be useful to me. He gave without hesitation and asked for nothing in exchange for his loyalty.
But he never asked me what I wanted him to do. He just started doing whatever he thought was best for me. Before I’d lost my hand, I hadn’t minded his impulse, but afterward, his “help” had become more insistent, more constant, more oppressive. Hadn’t I just proved myself in fighting Torstein? If one of the men awoke and saw him cleaning my axe because I was unable, I’d lose what little respect I’d gained through the duel. I could command anyone to clean my clothes or a horse’s saddle without losing face, but weapons were sacred things. If a warrior bloodied a sword or axe, the warrior cleaned it. It was a belief instilled in every warrior I had known. I would learn to do it myself, but only if I practiced.
“I know.” I rested the axe at my feet. “But they can’t see you doing that.”
Trygve sighed. “I hate that we sail with a crew neither of us can trust. We’d have been better off with just you, me, and the mermaid.”
“We can’t take the town back without them.”
“And after we take it back? What then? You could give the command to Torstein and let them leave. Good riddance.”
“I promised them gold. They’re not going to forget that.”
“They’re not going to forget a lot of things.” Trygve scooted closer. He pulled a small flask of ale from his cloak and passed it to me. “If you want these men to fight with you, we have to forge a peace.”
“We can’t,” I hissed, then glanced around the deck to make sure none of the crew had woken. “You know what Jarl Haakon and his sailors did to my family—to me. I sail with these men because I need them, but as soon as our bargain is fulfilled, I never want to see any of them again.”
“None of these men have been to your home,” Trygve said.
“Neither had Haakon. They’re still from Bjornstad.”
“They’re mercenaries.” Trygve took a long swig from his flask, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “You know yourself, they were leagues away when your town was raided. They fought for Haakon because he paid them. Haakon is dead.” He slung his arm around my shoulders. “I thought some of your anger would have died with him.”
I lifted my hook so the silver caught the moonlight. “I’m never going to forget.”
The drekkar rocked sharply. A few of the crewman sat up and looked around. I scrambled to the bow as Ersel hoisted herself onto the ship. She stayed in the kraken’s form; her tentacles splayed across the deck. Muttering, the crew moved toward the stern. None of them would approach Ersel when she was in her monster’s form, and I liked it that way. Their fear of her gave us privacy to speak. We could have gone to the hold, but I suspected that they sometimes listened at the door.
I stepped over her tentacles and sat on the rail. Ersel looked at the water and wrung her scaled hands. “We’ll never take the town back with a handful of men,” she said.
My chest tightened painfully. “What?”
Ersel pushed a lock of her blue hair behind her ear. “Every adult from the town is dead. All of the houses were burned right to the foundations.”
I had seen the town on fire on the night the invaders took me. I had suspected that everything would be gone, but still, I wasn’t prepared for Ersel’s words. How could a whole world and so many lives just be burned away? Everything I’d once cared about had been reduced to ash in the wind. I licked my dry lips and clutched the ship’s rail tighter. “And the invaders?”
“They’ve built a wooden fortress with walls and spikes. I got as close as I could, but there were at least sixty men in the new feasting hall. They know Haakon is dead. They had a flag above the fortress, but it wasn’t Haakon’s red sigil.”
Sixty men? I remembered the day the raiders had come with painful clarity. The ship that had taken me had been an ocean knarr—a study, thirty-oar ship, built to withstand long sea voyages. It had been bigger than the ship I captained now, but still couldn’t have carried more than forty men. Only a small group from Haakon’s force had remained to watch over the town’s children while the rest had returned to Bjornstad. If their numbers had swelled, they had been recruiting and organizing. My hope of an easy battle turned to dust.
The crew was wide awake now. They stared at Ersel and me and strained to watch our lips as the ocean swallowed the sound of our voices. What was I going to tell them? If they heard about the fortress’ strength, they might defect. They would know we couldn’t win against such numbers. Some of the more experienced ones, like Torstein, might even know some of the men on the beach from other campaigns. They were mercenaries. If there was gold on shore to pay them, then they would fight against me. And even if they didn’t fight against me, they could easily dump me in the ocean and sail for home with Torstein as their new captain.
We were so close. Dawn was breaking. I could see the outlines of familiar hills and mountains on the horizon. I knew those mountains as well as my own hand and missed them almost as much. In the valley beyond, a trail of white smoke rose. Vengeance beckoned. Angry, helpless tears formed in my eyes.
“Did you see any of the children?” I demanded. The
easy thing would be to set sail, find burial mounds full of gold to satisfy my crew, and then try to make a life for myself somewhere far away. But if there was any hope that Yarra was still alive, I couldn’t abandon her. Everything I knew about fighting and sailing, I owed to her father. And the guilt I felt over Lief’s death was still fresh and raw, but if I could save one person from my family, some of the pain might start to go away. Yarra and I could start over together.
“No,” Ersel said. She sighed, and her brow furrowed. “Not directly. But when I swam under the docks, I heard a couple of the warriors talking about a child who had been sick at night.”
I exhaled slowly. My lie had kept them alive. If any of the children could survive, it was Yarra. She was resourceful. She was strong.
Ersel dangled her arm over the side of the boat. Trailing her fingers through the water, she said, “Maybe if we sail back to the North Point, I can get some of the merclan—”
“To do what?” I snapped. “If we were waging a sea battle, they could help us, but these children are inland. What will they do? Swim to the harbor and toss seashells at the enemy?”
It wasn’t a fair thing to say, and I knew it. Ersel had come to my aid more times than I deserved, and I’d seen firsthand how vicious the merclans could be.
Her dark blue eyes flashed. “I was just giving ideas. If you don’t want my help, I can always go back to the sea.”
The threat hovered between us. I shook my head and slid closer to her. I wasn’t sure yet what we were to each other, but I wasn’t ready to see her go. She and Trygve were the only friends I had, and still I pushed them away. Ersel watched the emotions play on my face, and for a moment, I thought she would dive into the ocean and disappear without a trace.