by Julia Ember
His small brown ears pricked up when he heard me coming. Honor’s stallion reached into his trough to steal a mouthful of his hay. The jarl had offered to let me choose a new warhorse, but I had wanted a creature I trusted. The golden mare had not run back to her stable in Djalsfor. For all I knew, she could have been eaten by real wolves. I didn’t mourn her loss. My leg had been healing well, but it still wasn’t at full strength. Even though it would take another week to make the sea voyage, I didn’t want a difficult horse who would exhaust me before the battle even started.
I slipped into his stall beside him, then sank down into the straw at his feet. Vaskr dipped his head down and blew sweet breath into my face. When I’d first seen him in Halvag’s barn, I had dismissed him. Why was I always learning the value of things so late? I ran my hand down his cannon. He lifted his foot obediently, holding it up for me. I traced the metal shoe with my finger.
I missed Ersel. Now that I was back at sea, her absence left an ache. Since the day she’d come aboard my ship, I’d treated her like a weapon, an object to scare my men into submission. Our time together was full of stolen moments spent hiding below deck from the crew. Even then, I’d used her as a respite, so wrapped up in my own thoughts of revenge that I’d never even asked her if she missed her home. Coming on land for the first time should have been wondrous for her. It was a culmination of a dream she’d treasured since childhood. Had I ruined it? Had I really betrayed her out of love for Yarra? Or had everything, since the very beginning, been all about my revenge?
The pony slowly lowered his hoof. He nuzzled my hair. I took hold of his halter and pulled his face to my chest. I hugged his soft muzzle, and his warmth brought tears. I sobbed until my throat was raw and my stomach cramped. Vaskr stood still and let me hold him.
* * *
I stayed with Vaskr until I heard barrels being rolled across the deck. To keep the ale and water we had with us fresh, the crew would only open a few barrels at a time. If I missed this chance to drink, I’d have to wait until the next opening. I patted the pony’s neck and then went to find the jarl.
Honor’s sailors had fashioned a makeshift table for their jarl by pushing benches together and covering them with a white cloth. The table had been spread for three, with bread, strips of beef, and apples. At sea, most foods could be eaten without a knife or plate.
Honor held a clay bowl filled with strawberries in her lap. She balanced a goblet filled with what looked like wine in her brown hand. Aslaug sat on the bench at her feet holding a serving plate of dried meats. The húskarl didn’t eat. Aslaug’s pale skin had taken on a greenish hue, and they had purple rings around their eyes. I wondered when they had last sailed. The waves did not seem to agree with them.
Honor passed the bowl of berries to me. “We try to eat well on our voyages. We’ll eat the fruit in the first days before it spoils. The styrimaðr says berries help us conserve water.”
I took a handful of the strawberries. They were filled with juice and stained my palm red. “I can see that. When I last sailed, we only had salt fish, pork, and bread. I wasn’t sure how long we’d be at sea, and our ship wasn’t large enough to carry excess. When we lost a few of the water barrels, it was a disaster.”
Aslaug pointed up to the knarr’s enormous sail. “Have you ever been on a ship so large?” They sighed and clutched their stomach. “I’m finding the motion on this larger vessel does not agree with me. It is less bouncy than a drekkar, but the constant slow sway…”
Their voice trailed off and they ran to the ship’s rail, leaving Honor and me to devour the rest of the food.
“We will need to decide where to land,” Honor said, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. “We have enough warriors, I think, to storm the town head-on and win. But I don’t want to waste lives if we can help it.”
I nodded and peeled back the sleeve of my tunic. The jarl bent down for a closer look. The ink had darkened, almost to black. The markings had never changed color before. Our route to land extended from my forearm up my bicep. The waves surrounding our ship were oddly still. It was as if my desire to go home was so strong that the markings had become unchangeable, as if the magic were unwilling to show any other place until I achieved my aim.
Honor tapped a natural harbor shielded by a rocky mountain with her finger. It was a perfect location for our landing. She opened her mouth to speak, but then raised her head and beckoned Aslaug. The húskarl stumbled over on shaky legs. Their cheeks still looked green, but their eyes had come alive at being summoned, at being needed. They knelt beside me. The jarl pointed to the map on my skin again, then guided Aslaug’s hand to the stretch of beach just above the obvious harbor.
I fought the urge to roll my eyes as the jarl said, “We haven’t decided where to land. What do you think about here?”
Aslaug bit back a smile. They traced lower, to the cove. Their fingers brushed Honor’s again. “What about there? It would give us more shelter and, if we disembarked at the right time, the mountain would hide us from view.”
I pulled my arm back against my chest, no longer willing to function as a living game board for their flirtations. Aslaug must have told Honor about their feelings after all. From the look of things, they were reciprocated. At least some of us would be happy—if we survived the battle ahead.
“I’ll inform the styrimaðr,” Aslaug said. They rose to their feet and motioned to me. “You should come too, so we can show him. Is there anything else you need, my lady? I can fetch it for you?”
Honor raised her wine goblet to us. “I’m satisfied to watch the waves.”
“You told her,” I said as soon as we were out of the jarl’s earshot.
Aslaug’s cheeks colored. “Yes.”
“And?” I made a beckoning motion with my hand. “It seems to be going well?”
“We decided to discuss it further after the battle,” said Aslaug, but their wide smile betrayed them. “We will have more warriors, but with Loki’s creature in the battle, we don’t know what the outcome will be. The jarl will be heavily guarded at all times. But if I don’t survive, I don’t want her to think she owes me anything.”
Shaking my head, I followed them to the rowing benches. The knarr’s styrimaðr stood before the rest of the crew, barking orders at them. He was tall and lanky, boyish still, despite his age. Eirik was an experienced seaman who had been captaining Djalsfor ships longer than I’d been alive. My markings intrigued him, but he didn’t trust magic alone to guide his ship. Everything I said had to be carefully verified on the vellum maps stretched out on a wide table below deck. Even then, he preferred to chart his own course where possible.
I presented my arm to him. Eirik studied the harbor, measured the distance to the town with his fingers, then grunted his approval. “Seems as good a place as any. But will it be deep enough for the knarr? I don’t want to run her aground.”
“At this time of year, it should be,” I said.
“I’ll confirm the location and send rowers to the other captains.”
The knarr had two small skiffs suspended on ropes along its hull. They allowed Eirik to communicate quickly with the other ships in the jarl’s fleet. All the other captains took their orders directly from Eirik. As soon as they saw the skiff in the water, they dropped their anchors.
“What should I do?” After only a day at sea, I was already growing bored. When I had captained my own ship, every moment had been an adventure. My status as the jarl’s ally granted me a reprieve from the oars, but I had no crew to command. There was nothing to worry about, and after months spent constantly on edge, the lull made me even more anxious.
Aslaug wrapped their arm around my shoulders. “You rest your leg, practice with your weapons, and help me keep the jarl entertained. Her temper sours if she sits in a chair too long.”
I laughed, pleased by the gesture of comradery. Aslaug would always be loyal to Jarl Ho
nor first, but I valued our friendship.
Eirik moved to signal the messengers, but I held up my hand. “Wait. I want to add a note to Torstein’s missive.”
“Commands for your crew?” Aslaug asked. “Do you think Torstein has undermined you already? Surely, he wouldn’t be so stupid.”
“No.” I called over my shoulder as I trotted toward the messenger. “I just want to tell him to keep his eye out for blue scales.”
Four
Mörsugur
The Bone Month
December
Eirik needn’t have worried about the depth of the harbor. The weather in Brytten was uncharacteristically warm for winter. As we’d neared the island, I’d shed my fur cloak in favor of a lighter woven tunic. The snow on the mountain that overlooked the cove had started to melt; the edges of its white peak were bare and gray. The sea level had risen; the rocky beach was entirely submerged, and the waves crashed into heather. The trees still had their amber, gold, and pink autumn leaves. From afar, it looked as if the hills were blanketed in jewels.
We dropped the anchor. At the knarr’s helm, the jarl stood with her arms held out while Aslaug draped chain mail over her wool tunic. The crew hauled an iron chest full of helmets, swords, and axes into the center of the deck.
“We will disembark and climb the western summit of the mountain,” Honor said. “Our force will storm the town head-on. We will lure the bulk of the enemy force to us. Ragna and her men will seek out the keep.”
I swallowed. Jarl Honor and I had made the plan last night. She would lure the enemy from their keep and fight them in the open field beyond the town. Their keep was made from wood. The structure would keep out the wild animals that roamed the mountains, but they couldn’t barricade themselves inside without risk of being burned alive. Most of their force would rush to meet Honor’s warriors. They might leave a guard or two behind to keep whatever prisoners still lived from escaping, but we could handle them. But Loki’s creature would be in the keep too. It was up to me to figure out how to kill it or entice it to our side. If I failed, everything would be lost, even if Honor won on the field.
I prayed that Loki would decide to intervene.
As the jarl’s men selected their weapons, I readied one of the skiffs. I would board the snekke with Torstein, and we would land it together. The small boat was eerily like the one I’d used to escape the shipwreck. I thought of Ersel floating on her back in the water beside me, watching as I rowed. She had been so at ease that day, with a bemused smile on her lips, cheeks flushed, and rich cerulean hair fanning out around her face.
Aslaug freed the ropes binding the skiff to the deck. It splashed into the water below. I paddled the distance between the flagship and The Sea Witch. The waves were shallow and gray. A few dirty-looking seagulls bobbed beside me.
I longed to see the glimmer of Ersel’s lilac fins, but my own sea witch was nowhere to be seen. She wasn’t going to come back. And for now, I had to forget her. We had a battle to win.
When I reached my ship, Torstein pulled me over the rail. The men were equipped and ready. Each of them wore a new tunic, designed by Halvag. It bore the same black axe as my sail.
Torstein clapped his hands, and the rest of the crew lined up for my inspection. I smiled and paced in front of them. They all looked strong and well-fed after the voyage. After a week at sea, my leg gave only the slightest twinge when I walked. We were as ready as we could be.
At my nod, the men rowed us to the shore. Unlike Jarl Honor’s heavy knarr, my little snekke had a shallow berth. We could anchor right off the beach and disembark without skiffs or rafts. The jarl’s forces would take time to cross the mountain. By the time they arrived, we needed to be in position to infiltrate the keep.
The ship ploughed into the sand. I leapt over the rail, landing knee-deep in the water. My new shield was strapped to my back. I carried a freshly forged battle-axe, light enough to be used one-handed; its blade had been sharpened to a dangerous gleam.
We left Trygve behind to make sure the ship did not drift. One of the jarl’s crews would stay in the cove, their duty to protect our ships at all costs, just in case some of Haakon’s men ventured over the mountains. Trygve only had to mind the tides.
Vaskr already waited for me on the beach. Despite his long journey, the pony stood still and quiet beside the raft the handler had used to bring him to shore. His eyes were wide, taking in the new world around him as his handler stroked his neck. Although I wouldn’t ride him into the town itself, Vaskr would carry me over the mountain to save my leg. Pain brought its own kind of exhaustion. I wanted to be alert when I embedded my new axe in my first enemy skull.
I bent my knee, and Torstein boosted me onto Vaskr’s back. Over the mountain rolled a dark thunder cloud, purple with its rage. Fog clawed up the rocks. From the south, the mountain would be almost entirely concealed. They would never see us coming. I smiled and patted Vaskr’s neck. At last, I was going home.
* * *
At the base of the mountain, my town lay in ruins. All the houses were gone, burned to ash. The fields, once so carefully tended, lush and green, were a tangle of charred stubble and bones. Haakon’s men had constructed a wooden longhouse in the town center, where a forge had once stood. A wall surrounded it, made from stolen stones, daub, and rotting timber. Two sentries paced in front of a crooked iron gate. A funeral pyre smoldered at the center of the town. From a distance, it was impossible to see the body that lay upon it, but I imagined my cousin’s small frame and had to choke back a sob. The air still smelled faintly of smoke and burning hair.
We waited in the remains of a farm cottage at the edge of the town, pressed against a low stone wall, for signs of Jarl Honor’s arrival. Her warriors would make as much noise as they could—I’d seen the wooden drums lined up on the knarr’s deck along with the jarl’s hunting horn—to draw the enemy’s attention. I crouched beside the window, my legs already cramped. A few of the men fidgeted, but one hissed command had them standing as still as statues. We must not be seen. Alone, we would be slaughtered.
The handler hid with Vaskr in a cave just beyond the village. The man had seemed frightened and restless, as though he might flee to the safety of the ships at any moment. So I had told him that, if I returned to find him alive while my pony was not, I would drag him to Norveggr behind the ship like a prized catch. Torstein had chuckled at the now familiar threat, but the handler had gone whiter than milk.
The hunting horn blew in the distance. The sound it emitted was high and sinister, like a valkyrie’s scream. The sentries opened the gate and fled into the fortress. They left the gate ajar. The hairs on my arms stood up. The pit of my stomach dropped.
The mountain roared with Honor’s battlesong. Torchlight flooded through the open gate. Haakon’s warriors erupted from the keep, banging swords and axes against their shields as they raced toward the sound. Loki’s creature did not run with them.
I held my breath until the last of the warriors streamed from the keep. Smyain stepped forward. He hoisted the shield from my back, then secured it to my arm. He placed my horned, iron helmet on my head and buckled the strap beneath my chin. My heart pounded so fiercely that I felt lightheaded, but the shield’s weight comforted me. Still crouching, I beckoned to the men.
We crept out of the farmhouse, hiding in the shadows of blackened buildings until we reached the gate. I put my fingers to my lips. There would still be guards inside. If we were to fight Loki’s creature, none of my crew could fall to human swords.
The gate led to a narrow, winding hall with damp walls that seemed to close in around us. The inside of the fortress smelled of rot and mold. My breath echoed inside my helmet. My crew were as silent as cats, moving a single step at a time, weapons held ready. From somewhere deep inside the keep, the sound of laughter reached us.
“We’re the lucky ones,” a deep voice said. “All we have to
do is sit here and watch the brats. Did you hear those horns? It’s a proper army this time, not those little raiding forces sent by Jarl Thorn.”
“We don’t even have to watch them. Not with the beast here,” returned his companion. “Shall I fetch another round of ale?”
The fortress followed a design that I knew. Several of the jarls in Brytten had holds like this. The entry way wound around the central hold in a spiral before feeding into the keep. The narrow halls kept enemies from rushing in an organized line. Light from the central keep spilled out into the hall, creating shadows. Once we rounded the next corner, we would be in the heart of the longhouse, visible to any straggling enemies.
I pressed my back against the wall, my axe held to my chest. Our footfalls suddenly seemed as loud as shouts to me. Signaling to my men to stay hidden, I peered around the corner.
Two warriors sat playing dice at a table. As I studied them, my blood ran cold. I recognized one of the men. He wore an eye patch over his left eye and had two matching scars running down his cheeks like tears from my nails. He still wore a faded, dirty red tunic, emblazoned with Haakon’s sigil. It was the same man who’d grabbed me the night the raiders came. He and his companion had killed my family in their beds.
I wanted to rush forward to slice open his belly with my axe and spill his guts over the wooden floor. But a long shadow cast on the floor behind them kept me motionless. I peeked around the wall again, looking for the source of the shadow. A large horse stood behind the game table; its head was partially submerged in a feeding trough. It was pure white with a light pink muzzle and electric blue eyes. It had eight legs instead of four, with cat-like paws in place of hooves. When it lifted its head, a man’s arm dangled from its muzzle. Golden rings still decorated the man’s hand. The creature chewed it absently, its great jaws grinding the bone as easily as hay.
The Sleipnir. I recognized it from the stories Mama had told me as a child. Once the valued steed of Odin, the beast had been born of Loki’s own flesh. They had given natural birth to the creature and it was the strongest of their beasts. It had lived for centuries and had survived against powerful enemies. It stood over a trap door. I knew with sickening certainty that was where we would find the children. If I wanted to get to Yarra, I had to defeat a creature that feasted on human bones.