by Julia Ember
Loki reached for me and tilted my chin up to look them in the face. “You remind me of Sigrid. Not in the way you look, but your bearing. Your speech.”
I flushed. Sigrid had commanded one god’s love and another’s respect. I dreamed of becoming a leader like that. “What was she like?”
“Fearless,” Loki admitted. “Talented. She won many battles. Even against my own worshippers.”
They cleared their throat. “So, you know what I want of you. And I know what you want of me. To save your mermaid friend, will you make a deal?”
I pulled away from them. Everything they said had the ring of truth to it, but it was so much to take in. Loki was the Trickster. There had to be an angle to what they were telling me, something I wasn’t seeing. If I died, Loki would have to wait another generation for their salvation. But if I made a deal, I might be trapped by some impossible loophole in the god’s wording, the way Ersel had been. I might spend my life enslaved to the god, never able to get to Yarra. A chasm of guilt opened inside me. Whatever we were to each other, I couldn’t make that sacrifice.
“No. I won’t make a deal with you. But if you help me now, I won’t forget it.”
“You would let her die?” Loki snapped. “I’m watching her now. Her breathing is getting shallower by the minute. I thought you cared about her.”
“Why do you watch her? Is it all about me?” The god’s eyes flickered to the grass, and I pressed on. “I think you still have plans for her. I don’t think you’ll let her die either.”
“You think I care what happens to mortals? I’ve been alive for millennia. Ersel’s entire lifetime is a moment for me.”
“You gave her magic. You wanted her to come back to you.” Part of me expected Loki to kill me where I sat for speaking to them like this, but I continued, voice trembling. “You’re asking me if I can let her die. Can you?”
Loki started silently at me, nostrils flaring. Then they waved their hand, and, in a cyclone of cyan, both of us were transported to my room in the guesthouse. Trygve had fallen asleep in a chair by Ersel’s bed.
“It’ll break her heart, you know,” Loki said as they sat on the bed. “When she realizes the god she hated was more willing to help her than the girl she loves.”
I glanced down at Ersel’s sleeping form. She had settled, for now, between her mermaid and her human form. She had a human body, but her scales covered her hands and feet. Would she ever forgive me for this? Would I forgive myself?
Whatever control I’d had over my emotions disappeared. “You think I want it to be this way?” I hissed at them, as angry tears forged hot trails down my cheeks. “You’re making me choose between my home—my family—and her.”
Leaning forward, Loki collected my tears on their finger. They brushed the tears across Ersel’s lips. “Salt water,” they explained while I stared at them. “A very temporary measure, but that should see us to the coast.”
Their dismissal just made me cry harder. Ersel’s scales receded, and a fraction of her color returned. I reached for her hand. She gripped my fingers as her eyes fluttered open.
Her gaze flitted to the god sitting beside her. She gave a resigned sigh and pulled her hand back. “You summoned them.”
“There wasn’t another choice,” I said, clinging to the small hope that Loki wouldn’t tell her there had been, that the god wouldn’t tell her that I refused to make a deal to keep her safe. I had not been able to do what she had done for me, that day she saved me from being drowned by Havamal. The magnitude of my failure made me feel nauseous.
Ersel nodded. “What did you have to promise them?”
“I—”
“The deal is between us,” Loki interrupted. They bent down and carefully scooped Ersel up in their arms.
“I’ll find you once I’m recovered,” she said.
Loki carried her through the window and into the night. I couldn’t decide what I hoped. To see her again? To stop being too selfish to love her? Or that the god would take her far away, and she would never come back, so I would never have the chance to betray her again.
Part 2: The Navigator
And now my spirit bursts
from my chest,
my soul soars
over the whale-road
to all the reaches of the world.
It returns
eager and unsatisfied,
a wanderer screaming,
for the route unexplored.
—Adaptation of from The Seafarer
One
Ylir
Odin’s Month
November
After a fortnight in Dalsfjor, the crew and I had settled into a routine. We rose at dawn and spent the early morning running laps around the field. We sparred with swords and axes until the afternoon, took our lunch, and then practiced mounted skills until the evening. By nightfall each day, most of the crew were too tired to even speak at dinner. I fell into my bed with dreamless exhaustion.
Daily, I noticed improvements. They sat straighter on the horses; their arrows consistently found their targets. And each day, Aslaug came to help us. The húskarl arrived first and left last, never complained, and approached each warrior with the same quiet patience, no matter how long it took them to learn. By now, I was sure that Jarl Honor knew what we were doing and had given Aslaug her approval.
With every lap we jogged together, or loose horse I tracked down, my relationship with my men started to improve as well. When we had set sail from Bjornstad months ago, I had acted the part of a commander, not quite believing in my own performance, scared that at any moment my crew would stop believing too. Now, command was starting to fit like a pair of new boots. It still pinched a little, but I was breaking it in, making it mine.
I structured our days to spend as little time in the guesthouse as possible. When I was alone in my bedroom, I noticed Ersel’s absence the most. I thought about how she had laughed, and how it made it her eyes come alive. Then, I thought about her convulsing on the four-poster bed, and how I betrayed her. I trusted that Loki would bring her home, if only to hold it over me later. I was the only one in this generation who could lead Loki to the fragments of Heimdallr’s dagger. Now that they were so close to their desire, I doubted the Trickster would want to wait until another navigator was born, even if they did send a creature to guard the rest of the bloodline.
I had told Aslaug and the jarl that Ersel had recovered enough to travel, but had decided to return to the sea until we sailed. I didn’t mention Loki at all. Ersel will meet us, I’d insisted. She would watch the seas and find our ships once we sailed for Kjorseyrr. The mermaids had a way of sensing the ships, I’d lied over dinner with the jarl. Ersel will be ready. We will not go unprepared against Loki.
On the second Odinsdagr, Jarl Honor sought me out. I was sitting cross-legged on the wet grass, watching Steinair maneuver one of the horses around an obstacle course we’d constructed from firewood and bales of hay. The jarl wore a rich, burgundy dress, trimmed in white bear fur. Aslaug walked a reverent step behind her with a great wooden shield in their hands. I didn’t miss the way the húskarl’s eyes never strayed from the jarl as they walked.
I scrambled to my feet and tried to brush the wet grass off my trousers. I had been waiting for an invitation to dine with her again, to plead our case further and stress that my men were ready. Of course she would come to see us when my clothing was a mess and I hadn’t prepared the crew. “Jarl! We weren’t expecting you. I could have brought them down for you to inspect.”
Honor smiled. “I wanted to see how you were getting on without something so formal as an inspection. Aslaug says it’s been going well.”
She kept walking, hugging the perimeter of the field. I trotted after her and glanced at Aslaug for an explanation. The húskarl pressed their lips together and turned their head. I scowled. I had come to think of
Aslaug as an ally, but they were the jarl’s thegn first.
When we had walked the full length of the field and the jarl had seen all the men at their practice, she turned to me. “They’re coming along nicely. I have a test for you. Pass it and we will set sail next week.”
Another test? She had said that winning my crew’s loyalty was the test. Did this mean I had passed?
“Wasn’t this the test?” I blurted.
“They do seem more at ease, and I am impressed by the work you’re doing with them,” said the jarl. “But commanding a practice field and fighting wooden targets is easy. I’m curious to see how they will react when they have to fight real enemies.”
“Do you want to see us spar against your thegns?” I asked and instantly regretted the offer. Practice or not, if all the jarl’s thegns moved like Aslaug, we didn’t stand a chance. If she wanted us to attack one of the neighboring earldoms, I didn’t like our odds either. With only twenty men, we would be restricted to unarmed hamlets. I wouldn’t let her turn us into raiders.
“Oh, no,” Honor said. “If our warriors are to work together, I don’t want to set up artificial rivalries between them.”
The jarl took my arm and walked me to the easternmost edge of the field. She pointed beyond the city walls to a barren, gray mountain half-hidden by clouds on the horizon. “There’s a village about six miles from here, at the base of that mountain with the bald face. They’ve been reporting livestock missing at night and last week a child. I think there must be a wolf’s den near it. Clear that out for me and report.”
I had to bite my cheek to stop the gleeful laughter. She wanted us to hunt down a pack of wolves? Two archers could easily take down a pack. But if Honor thought this was a worthy test, I wasn’t going to challenge her. The faster we got it done, the sooner we could set sail. I molded my face into neutrality and said, “Of course. Consider it done.”
“I should say,” the jarl said. “That the villagers have mentioned that the wolves are of abnormal size…”
How big could they be? At the market back home, I’d seen wolf pelts brought from the continent. They had been from creatures little bigger than dogs. In the north of Brytten, we had wolves the size of ponies with brilliant white fur like the coveted ice bears. Since I was twelve, I’d been sent to kill ice wolves that raided the town sheep flocks. With twenty men, this pack wouldn’t stand a chance.
“Of course,” I said again. “We’ll leave at once.”
The jarl smiled and motioned to Aslaug. The húskarl held out the wooden shield they had been carrying. “A gift,” they said. “The jarl had it made for you. We hope it will protect you while you perform this service to her. I believe it will be your size.”
I didn’t like the word “service,” but I stepped forward and took the shield anyway. I wasn’t the jarl’s sworn thegn. I would accept the gift as tribute, a gift between allies, not as payment.
Aslaug helped to adjust the red leather straps at the back. It fit perfectly on my arm, but I wasn’t used to fighting with a shield. Before I’d lost my hand, I had delighted in using two axes. But that had been the showy method of a silly child and had cost me. Afterward, I’d been so determined to fight as before, to display my hook defiantly, that I hadn’t even thought about purchasing a shield. I raised it experimentally and was surprised to find that it wasn’t as heavy or cumbersome as it looked, despite the polished brass fittings.
“It suits you,” said Jarl Honor. She brought her fingers to her lips and whistled. Her stable boy emerged from the trees leading a tall, golden mare. She wore a new saddle, made from the same red leather as the strap on my shield. Her flaxen mane blew wildly in the wind. I covered my smile with my hand as the boy walked her straight to me. I slung the shield across my back and took her reins. My men clustered around to get a better look.
“Pack your weapons and enough food to see you through tomorrow,” I said. “We’ll leave in an hour.”
To my delight, no one asked questions. The crew nodded and trotted off in the direction of the guesthouse.
“For just one day?” the jarl asked.
I raised my arm. My tattoos were already rearranging themselves to show the terrain around the village beneath the distant mountain. “The tracking will be easy.” I flashed her a confident smile.
* * *
The jarl must have sent an emissary to the town, because every soul in Eyerfall seemed to be at the wooden gate to greet us. It seemed excessive to me as a reception for wolf-hunters, but I supposed the jarl wanted me to believe my “service” was valued. Children rushed up to us with flowers and fresh fruits. Women handed us stitched favors and pebbles carved with blessed runes; merchants gave us trinkets and charms from their stalls.
The attention made me uncomfortable. It was so overdone and clearly contrived by the jarl to make me grateful to her. My new mare shied when a blonde toddler darted between her legs. But my crew and the two ponies we’d brought along as pack animals seemed to be relishing the attention. Smyain held a fresh apple in his hand and went as red as the fruit when a buxom girl kissed his cheek. Torstein cupped a runestone reverently in his hands. One of the ponies nuzzled an elderly man, who fed him carrots from a market cart.
I had hoped to stop in the village, water the horses, and let the men have an hour’s rest before we proceeded into the forest. But there was no way we would get any rest with all these people swarming us. We might as well finish the jarl’s mission and get back to Djalsfor.
“Let us through, please.” I gritted my teeth and forced a smile. “The sooner we pass, the sooner we can deal with your little wolf problem.”
The villagers laughed. I didn’t think that what I had said was particularly funny, but I guffawed along with them
Unhappy to be marched on so soon, the crew exchanged disgruntled glances. Torstein disentangled himself from a worshipper and gestured for the rest of them to do the same. Even after all our work together, they still looked to him for guidance sometimes. I hated it, but I was growing resigned to it. Torstein observed me closely and seemed to intuitively understand what I wanted from the men. Trygve lacked that skill. As much as I valued my boatswain and trusted him, he didn’t know how to translate my shifting moods into commands the crew could follow. I didn’t like Torstein and still believed he would kill me given half a chance, but he had uses.
I dug my heels into the golden mare’s sides. She shot forward at a canter. Her responsiveness and speed were exhilarating. The men groaned behind us, but obediently broke into a run. I set my jaw and kept up the pace until we were clear of the village.
While I waited for the men to catch their breath, I consulted my markings. The wolf pack had a found a cave in the mountainside to use as their den. They would probably sleep during the day. If we could reach it before nightfall, we could easily ambush them before they woke to hunt.
At the edge of the forest, I dismounted. I couldn’t fight wolves from horseback, so I gave the reins to Trygve. I hung my new shield from my new mare’s saddle. I wouldn’t need it against a few wild animals and I didn’t want it to get dirty. I would anoint it with my enemies’ blood first. Plus, I still hadn’t learned to move without having it bang against my knees.
The trees hugged the mountain, creating a dense forest at its base, but nothing grew on the slick slate-gray slopes. Sneaking up to the wolves’ cave would be more difficult with no foliage to hide us or mute the sounds of our footsteps. My tattoos showed that the cave was almost directly above us, but we couldn’t climb the sheer mountain face.
I pressed my fingers to my lips to signal the men to be silent. The last thing I wanted was for the wolf pack to jump down on us. A wolf might not be able to kill an armed grown man, but it could inflict nasty wounds. The creatures were fast, with sharp claws and teeth. I needed all my men battle-ready when we set sail for my home.
As we crept through the trees, I
crouched against the side of the mountain, hoping that my chain mail would blend with the stone. The crew followed suit, and even the horses seemed to tread with deliberate softness. The woods had an otherworldly silence, so different from my home on the coast, where the sounds of crying seabirds and crashing waves were as constant as breath. When Steinair stepped into a pile of orange and purple autumn lives, the crunch was as loud as a scream.
I led them in a circle around the base of the mountain until we found a gentler slope. The autumn sun was already starting to dip behind the peak. Tiptoeing to the horses, I tied their stirrups into knots to keep them from clanking as we moved. I beckoned the crew and began jogging up the slope.
The den stood beside a shallow pool. A stream trickled down the side of the mountain, feeding into the pool. A few trees grew out of the soil above the cave. It would have been a beautiful, idyllic view, but for the half-eaten sheep that lay by the entrance. The animal’s tongued lolled out of its mouth and maggots feasted on its exposed entrails. My mare’s eyes rolled at the sight of the sheep, then she sniffed the air. Rearing and screaming, she fought to free herself from Trygve’s grip on her reins.
Cursing, I drew my battle-axe. Now there was no way we could sneak inside and slay the wolves as they slept. Their own weapons braced, the crew formed a half-circle around me. We blocked off the cave. None of the wolves would be able to run around us. Smyain reached into his pack and drew out a flint and steel. He rubbed them together until sparks formed. He lit a torch and handed it to me. I threw it into the cave’s mouth.
From deep inside the mountain, I heard claws scratch on stone. A wolf let out a howl, and the men beside me tensed. Smyain tossed another burning stick. We all waited, unsure how deep the cave was.
The scraping sounds drew nearer. A growl sounded. My axe trembled in my hand. The growl sounded too low and gravely for a wolf, more like a bear. I shook my head. The cave would amplify the noises inside it.