by Julia Ember
My kinsman had a small barn behind his cottage. The crew was to share accommodation with a pair of shaggy, dun ponies. Halvag offered me a pallet in the cottage by his smoky fire, but I wanted to keep an eye on the men. I didn’t trust them not to steal.
As we bedded down with fresh, sweet-smelling straw, Halvag brought us a kettle of thick porridge. We all tucked in greedily, slopping up the mixture with our hands. It wasn’t seasoned or topped with honey, the way Mama would have made it, but the hot gruel stuck to my bones nonetheless. We sat in the soft, warm straw and ate until our stomachs hurt. It was the most comfortable I’d been in weeks.
Ersel did not eat. I scooped porridge into a wooden bowl for her, but she wrinkled her nose and insisted that a mermaid could not eat mush made from land-plants. She would find a stream or a lake as we travelled. There had to be fish somewhere. While we ate, she fussed over the ponies. Whispering softly to them, she stroked their velvet muzzles and braided their ivory and black manes.
When I had finished, I wiped my hand on clean straw and went to her. At sea, it had been easy to forget just how little Ersel knew of our human world, but here, her astonishment was plain in the grin stretching her face. I ran my hand down a pony’s flank and lifted his rear hoof.
Ersel crouched and peered at the metal shoe on the pony’s foot. She laughed and tapped the metal with her knuckles. “You told me about these!”
When we had tested my skiff after the shipwreck, Ersel had brought a collection of her human treasures to my boat. She’d searched through decaying hulls of old wrecks for years and hoarded the goods she found, never knowing the purpose of most of the items she kept hidden. One of the things had been a rusted horseshoe. I remembered the look of horror on her face when I had explained how they were nailed to the animal’s foot. She had envisioned horses as huge, vicious creatures, like white bears, that we humans tortured into subjugation.
I pressed on the frog of the pony’s hoof. He turned to eye me curiously, then butted his head against my rear.
“He doesn’t seem to be in any pain,” Ersel said. “Were these like the horses your mother raised?”
I tried and failed to stifle a giggle. Her cheeks warmed. “My mother bred warhorses.” I straightened and gently scratched the pony’s withers with the tip of my hook. His lower lip wobbled with pleasure. “These ponies pull carts and ploughs.”
“Still,” Trygve said. He stood and walked over to us. “It might be better for you to borrow one of them, rather than walk to see the jarl. You don’t want to arrive exhausted.”
“That would be a disgrace,” I began, but Ersel grabbed hold of my arm.
“Boost me up!” she demanded excitedly. “I want to see what it’s like to ride one!”
“You’re hardly steady on foot,” Trgyve protested. “You don’t just sit on a horse. You have to keep your balance.”
Ersel stuck her tongue out at him. “If I feel I’m about to fall, I can always shift forms and grip with my tentacles. It can’t be harder than riding the stemposts.”
“I’m sure the pony would love that,” I drawled and rolled my eyes. I could imagine the little horse’s reaction to Ersel suddenly shapeshifting into a kraken and grabbing at him with her long, aquamarine limbs.
“Lift one of your legs and bend your knee,” Trygve said. She did as he instructed, and he boosted her onto the pony’s back.
Ersel wrapped a lock of the pony’s long mane around her hand. “He’s beautiful. I’d love to know what it’s like to ride them when they run. I bet the wind is amazing.”
“Nothing like it, lass,” Torstein piped up. He lay flat in the straw, his eyes half-closed. Most of the crew had finished their porridge and gone straight to sleep. “You should ride tomorrow. The old man won’t miss these two for a few days. It’s nearly winter. The ground is frozen. No ploughing to be done.”
I shot him a glare. Of course, Torstein would love for me to look ridiculous when I met our potential allies.
“Please?” Ersel asked.
I hesitated. We had already lost our ship. Our clothes were dirty and smelled of fish and mildew. Mama would say that riding a cart pony to meet an important contact was a disgrace, but she was gone and my Fjara was a hundred miles across the sea. Other than our magic, we had nothing to offer the jarl.
As a girl, when I’d imagined myself captaining my own crew and sailing across the world, I’d always been well-dressed, respected, important. But many of my men would need new weapons and clothes. Our experience at sea was nothing like what I’d daydreamed for so many years. What was one more embarrassment if it would please the mermaid peering down at me with such beseeching, beautiful eyes?
“Fine!” I said. “But if you get tired on the road, don’t blame me.”
* * *
Halvag woke us at dawn. The old man rapped sharply on the barn door and then pushed it open without waiting. He wrung his hands and glanced toward the house while I sat up and rubbed my eyes. Pressed against Ersel’s soft body, warm in the dry straw, I’d had my best sleep since I was captured months ago. Waking didn’t come easily. I blinked at Halvag in the orange morning light.
“The jarl has sent messengers.” His words cut through my grogginess, and I was on my feet in an instant.
“What kind of messengers?” I asked, my body tensing with fear. A young courier was different than a cohort of warriors sent to arrest us. If the jarl had sent an army, we weren’t in condition to fight. A glassless window at the rear of the barn led to the forest beyond. If we could make it into the cover of the trees, armed horsemen would have trouble pursuing us at speed. But the forest was across a pasture. If the horsemen saw us flee and gave chase, we would be cut down as we ran.
Had Halvag alerted the jarl we were staying here? The thought made my chest hurt, but maybe everything he’d said yesterday about being my kin had been a ruse. If this Jarl Honor had been allied to Haakon, there might be a price on our heads. I’d been a fool to trust Halvag so easily. Without thinking, I raised my hook like a knife. Halvag took a step back. Behind me, the men clambered to their feet.
“The jarl’s húskarl.” Halvag raised a placating hand. “They were here yesterday, passing out bread to the children. It will be all right. They are alone.”
I lowered my hook. “Sorry. It’s been a long journey.”
Halvag squeezed my hand. “I’ve found a part of my family. I’m old and I don’t take that for granted. It’ll take more than that to scare me off.”
“Stay here,” I said to my men.
Ersel rose from her straw nest and took my other arm. She didn’t bother to cover her hair. The long blue locks gave her away instantly as someone not of our world, but, unlike raised steel, there was nothing overtly threatening about her, for all she was the strongest weapon I had. I’d seen the gleam of the húskarl’s polished sword dangling from their belt as they dismounted. One did not rise to be a jarl’s second-in-command without cause. There was a chance the warrior could best five of us with a blade, but I doubted they would have trained to face a kraken’s powerful limbs.
We followed Halvag through his weaving workshop at the rear of the cottage. The pile of thick, unwashed wool, discarded combs, and the wooden loom leaning against the wall all reminded me of my grandmother. The room smelled faintly of dyes and vinegar. I wanted to run my hands through the wool and sit beside Halvag while he worked. I would comb the wool fibers until they were as soft as kitten’s fur, as I had done as a little girl with my grandmother. I averted my eyes to keep the memories at bay and marched into the cottage.
The húskarl sat on Halvag’s lone chair, warming their hands on the open fire built in a pit in the middle of the room. Halvag gestured for us to sit on the bed, while he busied himself with a pot suspended over the flames. Today, the warrior appeared in more casual clothing, without the jarl’s official tunic and sigil. They wore a simple, brown wool dr
ess without a chest-binding. A thick, black leather belt that bore a set of sharpened daggers encircled their waist.
“I am Aslaug.” They smoothed a crease in their dress. They stared openly at Ersel. “Húskarl to Jarl Honor of Dalsfjor. The jarl’s scouts reported your ship’s landing at the beach. We have kept watch over you and your men since, and the jarl is curious about your purpose here. I have been sent to bring you to the city as our guests.”
“Bring us?” I demanded. “Are we under arrest?”
Aslaug pursed their lips. “No, but we would prefer that you come as asked. The jarl will grow suspicious if you refuse our invitation. You have nothing to fear.”
Halvag passed each of us a steaming wooden bowl, filled with more of the hot porridge he’d offered us last night. A night of hunger must have changed Ersel’s mind about waiting for food, because she accepted the bowl from Halvag, albeit with a discontented sniff.
I brought the bowl to my lips and took a sip. “We’re here to seek help. As your scout must have told you, our ship has been wrecked. Halvag is my kinsman. He tells me that your jarl was not a friend of the recently deceased Haakon?”
Aslaug inclined their head formally, but I didn’t miss the way their jaw tightened at Haakon’s name. Whatever relationship Haakon had had with their jarl, it had not been warm. “We were not.”
“Jarl Haakon sent men to my town. They killed almost everyone.” I pushed back my sleeve, allowing Aslaug to see both my hook and my tattoos. They leaned forward and craned to see the markings. The blue-ink trees were blowing nearly sideways, as if bending in a strong winter wind.
“I am alive because Haakon wanted my magic.” I let the sleeve fall back into place. I wanted them to focus on what I was saying, not my tattoos or my hook. “Warriors still guard my town. They have taken children as prisoners. Our jarl is weak and wouldn’t protect us. He won’t attempt to take the town back while fighters remain. I have a small crew—but they are mercenaries. They used to serve Haakon, but defected to me when I offered them gold. We need help. I would prefer to sail alongside allies.”
“Jarl Haakon was not a kind man, neither to his enemies or to most that served him. It does not surprise me to learn that his men defected easily. But if you are not yet certain of your own crew, how can we be certain of you?”
My face went red; I was angry and embarrassed at the same time. They were judging me, when I had made the best of an impossible situation. How dare they? Weren’t they impressed that I’d managed on my own for weeks, despite the hostility of my men?
“Yes, they were Haakon’s men,” I spat. “But I persuaded them this far, and they didn’t drown me at sea. I can keep them in line. We sailed through the Trap.”
Aslaug calmly sipped their porridge, then cradled the warm bowl against their stomach. “You’ll have to speak to the jarl and explain. I cannot make any decision. I am here as escort only.”
I jerked my head toward Ersel. She was noisily draining her bowl, apparently having discovered a taste for cooked oats. “And I have another sort of weapon.”
The húskarl’s gray eyes fixed on Ersel. “Show me.”
Part of me hated putting her on display, as if she really were a weapon and not a person that I cared about. But I had to keep my goal in mind. If getting to Yarra meant making Ersel play a part, then I would do it. She would understand. We were allies. “Show them.”
Ersel’s fingers trembled as she reached for the talisman she wore around her neck. Her eyes fixed on the daggers hanging from Aslaug’s belt. She whispered the incantation, so softly the words sounded like a hiss. Then her body slowly shifted; her legs split open and her dress ripped. From her waist, eight long tentacles grew like vines, knocking her bowl aside as they spread to fill the room. From her pale white skin, scales erupted, shimmering like glass in the firelight.
"Magnificent." Aslaug cleared their throat. “The jarl will be impressed by her, but one shapeshifter isn’t enough to win battles, or you would have taken your home back already. Your own navigation might prove useful as well. Gather your crew. I will escort you to meet Honor.”
Nine
Ylir
Odin’s Month
November
As an apology to Ersel, I kept my promise to ride the ponies to Djalsfor. Aslaug led the way on their black warhorse, with Trygve sitting behind them on the mare. Ersel and I followed on the shaggy, sure-footed ponies. The men had to walk, and I could hear them grumbling.
My feet felt too close to the ground. The pony couldn’t have been taller than thirteen hands, with a belly so round riding him was like trying to ride an ale barrel through an ocean storm. But Ersel was delighted with her mount. She talked to him and stroked his neck and ignored me when I tried to point out new human things on the road.
We took the only road leading from the village. It led us through other towns and hamlets, which became increasingly prosperous as we moved away from the coast. Farther inland, the wind had less bite, and the ground was padded with lush, green grass. Cattle and sheep grazed the fields along the road. As we rode, the cheeks of the onlookers seemed to grow fuller too. Halvag had said that many people were moving to be closer to the capital. I could understand why.
Aslaug did not allow us to stop in any of the towns, so we reached Dalsfjor by early afternoon. It was a fortified city on the shore of a fjord. The harbor was filled with ships of all sizes, from tiny fishing vessels to vast knarrs and spice ships. A black stone wall framing the city was guarded by archers who stood with their bows nocked and ready. The city was built onto the slope of a mountain. The houses were made from multi-colored stone that glittered like scales in the sun. The streets were paved with small white pebbles that looked like sea shells. At the highest point of the city stood the biggest longhouse I’d ever seen. It appeared to have been made from entire trees rolled and stacked to create a structure that loomed over the rest of the city. It had silver doors that gleamed like eyes.
We paused at the gate, but the guards knew Aslaug and let us pass without questions. Most of the inhabitants, clearly used to foreigners, ignored us, but a few children stood in the doorways of their houses. They pointed at Ersel’s bright hair until she tugged her hood over her head to cover it.
Merchant carts bearing meat, fish, and strange fruits wheeled by us, as did farmers leading sheep and foals. A man leading a full-sized gray wolf passed, making Aslaug’s stallion shy. He held two black wolf puppies against his chest. All around us were the sounds of people: the hammer of the blacksmith’s forge, the steady chop of a butcher’s axe, laughter, bargaining, and hoofbeats.
I’d only been to a city a handful of times. On occasion, I’d been allowed to travel with Mama when she brought our horses to market at Jorvik. I remembered the metropolis’ high stone towers, the cathedral bells summoning worshippers of the new religion, and the muddy brown river that wound through the lower quarters. Lured by the promise of wealth, people of many cultures had lived together there.
The horse market in Jorvik had been a wonder. Every size, shape, and breed of equine had been for sale, tied up in makeshift stalls for inspection. Mama’s warhorses had been some of the most coveted, and people had lined up all day to watch the auctions. My heart had swelled with pride when I led our foals into the ring. I wondered what the market here would be like. My gaze followed the gray wolf until she and her owner disappeared into the crowd.
Aslaug didn’t let us stop to gawk. They led us straight through the city toward the longhouse. The steep incline of the road soon stole the ponies’ breath. I doubted they were used to carrying riders. By the time we reached the garden at the top of the mountain, they were lathered, as was Ersel, from nudging her reluctant mount forward. Aslaug’s mare still looked immaculate; her dark coat gleamed like polished obsidian, and she carried her head proudly, as if she knew how beautiful she was. I sank lower in my saddle; a flush warmed my cheeks. This pony
was, at best, a mount for a child. What would the jarl think of me?
Up close, the longhouse was even more impressive. The silver gates were inlaid with precious stones and sea pearls. The walls were made from a type of tree I’d never seen before, with deep, jewel-red bark. Smaller houses for servants and visitors surrounded it. I could hear laughter and clashing swords coming from the rear of the house. At least some of the jarl’s warriors must be here practicing. After the lack of training I’d seen from Haakon’s mercenaries, it was encouraging to know this ally might have trained, career warriors at his disposal.
I slowly dismounted. In such a short time, I’d already started to lose riding fitness. My knees ached from the long ride and the little beast’s width. Fjara had been much narrower, with a more flowing gait than the pony’s choppy strides. A stable boy dressed in the jarl’s livery took my reins, then helped Ersel dismount.
Aslaug jumped down, but kept hold of their reins. They whispered something to the boy, but I couldn’t make out the words.
“The jarl is expecting you,” they said to me. “You can go in. I will take your crew to a guesthouse. We’ll bring food for them, and you can eat when you have finished with the jarl. You are welcome here as long as you wish to stay.”
I nodded, even though my mouth suddenly felt dry with apprehension. I didn’t like the idea of going into the feasting hall alone or leaving Ersel behind with my crew. But Aslaug had seen Ersel’s power. I doubted they would let me take her into my meeting. My hand clenched at my side, but I stepped forward and fixed Aslaug with a wooden smile.
“Lead on,” I said. If the jarl was willing to give us a whole house, then he must not have thought of me as a silly girl with no experience. We were meeting as equals. I tried to hold on to that thought as Aslaug knocked on the metal door.
The doors swung open, revealing a long, dim hall. Aslaug gestured for me to step inside. I took a deep breath, straightened my back, and walked across the threshold. The doors closed behind me.