Thief Eyes

by Janni Lee Simner

  As if I didn’t know that. Ari wasn’t the one Svan had tried to claim as a gift. The sun touched the hills behind us, turning the mosses to gold. Ari drew his arms around himself—was the air getting colder? In the distance, I saw Svan heading toward us along the beach, his staff in one hand, a second, smaller leather bag slung over his shoulder atop the first one. He whistled as he walked.

  “Well. You two took your time waking up,” the sorcerer said as he drew near. The smaller sack was wriggling. What on earth?

  “For the spell,” Svan said at my puzzled look.

  “What do you mean, for the spell?” From inside the bag I heard a squeal.

  Svan stared at me like I was a puzzle he was trying to figure out. “Does my kinswoman truly know so little of sorcery? We must go through all the steps of Hallgerd’s spell if we wish to break it, only differently. And if Hallgerd used the spell that I believe she did, it required the blood of a white fox.”

  “You have a fox in there?” I felt sick and angry at once. Freki, I thought, but of course it wouldn’t be him. We’d left Freki back in the mountain. Some other fox, then. That wasn’t any better.

  Nothing’s as important as hurting Hallgerd, I thought. “How much blood?” I asked.

  Svan seemed startled by the question. “All of it.”

  “Wait—you’re going to kill it?”

  “Of course not,” Svan said. “You are.”

  “No,” I said. Ari moved closer to my side, nodding his agreement.

  “I don’t think you understand,” Svan said. “This is no small spell Hallgerd cast. If I’m reading the runes on that coin right, my niece intended to send her spirit—and yours—through time. She offered gifts to the fire realm to do so. So great a spell cannot be broken by a few drops of blood or a handful of pretty words. The breaking requires as much power as the casting. That power will be strongest if the spell is cast by Hallgerd’s target. By you.”

  I shook my head. “There has to be another way.”

  “Of course. Human blood works as well. Would you prefer that?” Svan’s face turned unreadable. I couldn’t tell whether he meant it or not. A nose tried to push through the bag.

  My stomach churned. I wanted to work with animals one day. How could I kill one?

  “Mom,” I whispered. Hallgerd killed her. Hallgerd has to pay.

  The fox squealed once more. “You’re hurting it,” I said.

  “Indeed. It is time to end the creature’s suffering.” Svan set his staff aside and handed the larger bag to me. “There’s a knife inside, and a driftwood bowl to hold the blood. Take them. I will teach you all you need to do.”

  Svan reached into the smaller bag and pulled the fox out by its legs, which were bound together with a length of rough rope. The fox was smaller than Freki, little more than a pup, more gray than white. She writhed in Svan’s hold, then looked at me, just for a moment. Her eyes rolled back in her head, but she kept struggling.

  I wanted to throw up. I thought of Freki, lapping at the mead I’d offered him, following me through the tunnels, digging his claws into my shoulders to give warnings even though he wasn’t supposed to interfere. Offering his companionship when I was completely alone, without even my own memories for company.

  I thought of Mom in her vet clinic, patiently setting an injured dog’s leg, giving a trembling cat its shots. The clinic was the one place where Mom never yelled.

  I’d watched Mom put pets to sleep, too. I wasn’t stupid. I knew not every animal could be saved. Sometimes there was no choice.

  “Haley,” Svan said, “it is only a fox.” He glanced at Ari. “Surely even you know that, Ari, Katrin’s son. Tell her. Only a woman—a girl—would be so sentimental.”

  “Actually, I’m rather fond of foxes,” Ari said, his voice flat.

  “What is this small life against the fate of the world?” Svan asked.

  I reached out to stroke the fox. Her teeth snapped at my fingers. She wasn’t wholly helpless, even now.

  The sun was very low, its orange glow casting just a few rays of light on the water. The hills were turning to shadow. Soon it would be too dark to see.

  Mom. I reached into the bag, knowing what I had to do. My hands shook as I drew out a wooden bowl the size of a cereal bowl. I set it down, then drew out a knife with a smooth bone handle, its blade encased in a leather sheath.

  “No,” Ari said.

  I unsheathed the knife. Svan looked at Ari. “Hold the bowl,” the sorcerer said.

  Ari shook his head. He looked as angry as he had back at Thingvellir. “I’ll have no part of this. Haley—”

  Svan laughed derisively. “Haley, at least, does not lack courage.” Svan knelt in front of the bowl. He took the fox’s head in his hands, bracing the body between his arms. The fox went limp. Svan pulled back her head, exposing her neck.

  “Be quick,” Svan said. “If you’re quick, there will be less pain.”

  Ari scowled. I knelt in front of Svan, knife clutched tightly, and leaned forward.

  I sliced through the fox’s bonds so fast that, for a moment, Svan didn’t notice. In that instant I dropped the knife and threw myself at the sorcerer, knocking him off balance. We tumbled to the sand. The fox slashed at my sleeve, then leaped away and bounded across the beach. Ari let out a breath.

  I thought of Mom bringing home one stray cat after another. My eyes stung. Mom would never have wanted me to kill an animal. Not to avenge her, not even to save her life. I’d wanted to, though. Some part of me had wanted to.

  “You stupid girl!” Svan grabbed my arms and hauled me to my feet. “You’re more of a fool than she was. This is no mere game—the very land beneath our feet is at stake!”

  I fought, but the sorcerer was too strong. His fingers pressed into my shoulders, bruising me, hurting me. Ari ran at him. Svan shoved him away with one hand, then grabbed me more firmly. Ari fell dazed to the ground as Svan began shaking me, dragging me down the beach. I fought harder. Anger and fear rose in me, and the fire in me rose with it, coals bursting into flame. A wind blew, carrying the scent of hot ash. Svan howled, and I knew my fire was burning him, but he didn’t let go. I tried to kick him instead. The ground gave a sharp lurch, knocking us both off our feet. I wriggled out from under the sorcerer. The ground shook harder, and I heard tumbling rock.

  I thought of water thrown over a campfire, of red embers sizzling to gray. The fire in me flickered down to a few sparks. The ground’s shaking slowed, then stopped. Svan stumbled to his feet. I stepped back from him, gauging whether I could run before he grabbed me again. In the distance Ari stood, too, and ran toward us. The last rays of sun disappeared behind the hills.

  Ari’s jacket turned to liquid and began to flow. My breath caught. The change was much faster than before—Ari didn’t stop, didn’t fall to his knees. In moments he turned into a huge white bear, loping on all fours.

  A bear that roared and kept running, right at Svan.

  Chapter 10

  Even as the bear began to leap, Svan pointed at Ari and chanted:

  May you shed this form and show

  Your true self.

  I will fear no bear-kin!

  Fur and bearskin melted away. It was a human boy who knocked Svan to the ground and landed crouched on top of him. Sweat streamed down Ari’s face. “Leave her alone.”

  Svan chuckled. “So you’re a berserk, are you? I underestimated you, boy.” The sorcerer got to his feet, dumping Ari roughly to the ground. Ari scrambled up, shoulders tensed. I hurried to his side. His legs wobbled, and he grabbed my arm for balance.

  “That’s the thing about the berserks,” Svan said. “You’re strong enough during a change, but not much use afterward. Even so”—he grinned, as if he hadn’t attacked me a moment before—“you could do worse, Haley.”

  Ari and I took a few steps back. “Just stay away,” I said.

  Svan held out his hands as if to say, Whatever. His palms were burned and beginning to blister. He hardly seemed to n
otice. I did that. The thought didn’t bother me as much as it should have.

  Svan looked at Ari. “So whose line are you through? Skallagrim, perhaps?”

  Ari eyed him warily. “Mom and I are through Hallgerd’s line, actually, just like Haley.”

  “Indeed?” Svan stroked his beard. “What of your father’s people?”

  Ari drew his arms across his chest. “My father has nothing to do with anything. He ran away before I was born.” Yet he glanced at his jacket, as if uncertain.

  Svan reached toward the jacket. Ari growled at him, and Svan stepped back. Score one for us.

  “My dad left it behind.” Ari switched to English—words for me, not Svan. His wary gaze never left the sorcerer, though. “I found the jacket in Mom’s closet a few years ago. I do not know why she didn’t get rid of it. I do not know why he didn’t take it with him.”

  “Do you think he knew? About being a bear?” I spoke English, too, while Svan stared at us both.

  “How should I know?” Ari snapped. “It is not like he ever calls.”

  Wind tugged at my sleeves, my strange short hair. “I’m sorry.” I tried to imagine never having known my dad. Angry as I was, the thought brought no comfort.

  Ari shifted uneasily. “He is the one who should be sorry, yeah?” Silence thickened around us, no sound but the wind.

  “So,” Svan said, “if you two are done with your love talk, perhaps we can get back to business?” Tension crept into his casual words. “You felt the earthquake, Haley. That was Hallgerd’s work, of course.” He glanced down at his burned hands. “I did not know Hallgerd’s magic had rooted in you so deeply.”

  Svan didn’t know the fire in me hadn’t come from Hallgerd. The coin remained in my pocket, but its power seemed a small thing beside the fire banked beneath my skin. Would Svan decide he needed to destroy me, too, if he knew I held fire of my own?

  Was it really my fire that had caused the earth to shake? Wouldn’t Dad love that? Earthquakes whenever he wants them. I fought down a hysterical giggle.

  “The earthquakes will only get worse, the longer the coin remains intact,” Svan said. “If you will not destroy it, give it to me. The spell will be weaker if I cast it, but at least I don’t lack the will to do what needs to be done.” Svan stepped toward me. Ari tensed at my side. The sorcerer held out his hand.

  The sky and clouds were dark now, the world around us mostly shadow. I looked toward the overhang. A huge boulder had slid down from the hill above it, half blocking the opening. In the distance, other piles of rubble lay at the base of other hills, sent tumbling down by the quake.

  People died in earthquakes. Had Muninn been right to hide me away, where I couldn’t do any harm? But Muninn couldn’t have known what would happen, not unless the raven could see the future as well as remember the past.

  If I gave the coin to Svan, it wouldn’t do anything for my fire, and Svan would find another fox to kill. I couldn’t let him do that.

  Not even to save the world from Hallgerd’s magic, which I already knew could do as much harm as mine? Mom—Just thinking about Mom opened up a huge empty space inside of me. The sparks within me yearned toward that place. Offered to fill it, to burn the ache away.

  No. I forced the sparks down.

  “The coin, Haley.” Svan’s gray eyes were hard as stone.

  “What if we send the coin back to Hallgerd?” What if we did what Katrin wanted? Thinking about Katrin made me want to dig my nails into my palms—but better that than hurting one of Freki’s kin.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Svan said. “Hallgerd would only gain more power were the coin returned to her. Only your holding it keeps the spell in check, and even that protection will only last so long. There is no telling what Hallgerd will do once her own power is set free. She was very angry when last I saw her.”

  How long ago was that, though? I’m content to live and die by Gunnar’s side. Maybe Hallgerd wouldn’t do anything after all.

  Or maybe she would. I drew my arms around myself. It was nearly full dark now. Through the thinning clouds, a huge yellow moon rose over the water. I still didn’t want to give anything back to Hallgerd, but this wasn’t just about what I wanted.

  Svan stepped toward me. Ari stepped toward him, teeth bared.

  “Stop!” I told them both. “I—I need to think!”

  Svan halted. “I need to get my courage up,” I said, thinking fast. Ari returned to my side. Fire or no fire, neither of us was stronger than Svan. That meant we had to delay him and get away—but how? The knife lay a few yards behind us, by the bowl. I wasn’t sure I could get to it faster than Svan could. All I had in my backpack were some chocolate malt balls, a bottle of water, and—a skin of mead. Mead that wasn’t drugged, but that was too strong for mortals to handle.

  “Let’s have a drink,” I said—too quickly, but Svan didn’t seem to notice. “To help with that courage.”

  Ari gave me a puzzled look, but the hardness left Svan’s eyes. “You did not say you had drink with you, Haley. The world can wait a short time more. Where is this drink?”

  “In my pack.” I glanced at the overhang, lit by moonlight, half-covered by the boulder. I knew it wasn’t safe to go into buildings after earthquakes. Was a rocky outcrop any different?

  Svan didn’t seem concerned—he grinned and headed for the overhang, his feet crunching through half-frozen puddles. As he dove beneath the stones, Ari whispered in English, “Do you really think that is wise?”

  “Trust me,” I said, also in English. This had better work, I thought.

  Svan returned and handed me the pack, which was still a little damp. He’d brought the last few pieces of driftwood as well, and he set them down on the beach. He slid a few pieces of papery wood beneath them, made a motion with his hands, and whispered words I couldn’t hear. A small flame caught beneath the wood. The fire in me rose in response.

  With a whoosh the wood burst into brighter flame. I burst into flame, too, into fire reaching for the sky, even as the earth shook beneath me—

  No! With a wrench I forced the flames down, down, down. I staggered back, sweat pouring down my face, knowing that I hadn’t really been burning, not on the outside. Svan’s fire kept going, not so brightly now. The earth was still. Ari caught me as I fell to my knees. “Sorry,” I whispered.

  Svan gave me a long look. “This had better be strong drink.”

  “It is. I promise.” I got to my feet, rummaged through the bag, and pulled out Freki’s wineskin. I pulled out the malt balls, too, inhaled a mouthful, and offered the bag to Ari, who did the same. Somehow we’d have to get real food eventually. I sat cross-legged beside Svan and handed him the mead.

  Ari offered Svan the malt balls as well—less than a handful was left—as he sat beside me. The sorcerer shook his head and uncorked the skin. Please, please let this work.

  Svan drew the skin toward his lips, stopped, and sniffed it. His eyes narrowed. Shit.

  “What treachery is this?” Svan’s voice was low, like Dad’s voice when he got angry. “Do you think me a fool, who does not know what you offer me?”

  “Umm.” Now what?

  Ari looked back and forth between us. “The mead of poetry,” Svan said, answering his unasked question. “Haven’t I rested in Muninn’s mountain long enough, Haley?” Svan’s voice dripped disdain as he handed the skin back to me, still open.

  “Wait—that’s the mead of poetry?” Ari’s eyes grew wide by the firelight. He reached toward the skin.

  “Don’t.” I drew it away. “It’ll make you sleep—”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “But what?”

  “If I could write a decent poem for once—a decent song …” He reached for the skin again, then hesitated.

  “Oh no, you don’t!” I pulled the thing out of his reach. “I need you here.” I turned the skin upside down. No way was I taking a chance on Ari going unconscious on me.

  The mead steamed as it hit the sand. The wind die
d, all at once.

  Svan grabbed the skin from my hands and righted it. The remaining liquid sloshed inside. “You are a fool,” he muttered.

  The earth trembled, ever-so-slightly, less like an earthquake than someone shivering at a too-gentle touch. Svan gestured down the beach. A fog bank moved toward us, silver gray in the moonlight. Within that fog a man ambled toward us with a slow rolling gait. His broad-brimmed hat covered one eye; his cloak was the same color as the fog.

  Do not spill that. My master would not like it. How stupid was I? I hadn’t thought about Freki’s warning, though. I’d thought only about Ari.

  Yet the man didn’t seem angry. He didn’t seem in any hurry to reach us, either. He smiled as he made his way down the beach. Then he saw me watching him, and he winked, though I should have been too far away to see. The trembling of the earth moved down beneath my skin. I started shivering and couldn’t stop. I looked at Ari and saw that he trembled, too, even as he cursed slowly and steadily under his breath.

  My sight blurred, and I saw only fog, but the shivering went on. The fire in me burned hot, hot, hot, even as I shivered.

  Svan corked the mead and tossed it into my backpack. “You must go.” He began putting other things in the pack as well: the wooden bowl, the knife in its sheath.

  Leaving sounded awfully good to me, only—“Wait, if that’s Freki and Muninn’s master, can’t he destroy the coin?” Destroy it without killing anything in the process?

  “Haley.” Svan spoke slowly, as if to a small child. “Muninn’s master does not fear the end of the world. He will fight it, to be sure—he and the fire spirits are old enemies—but he will throw everything he has into that fighting. You hesitate to kill a single fox; to him we’re all less than foxes. He won’t hesitate to sacrifice us.”

  I opened my mouth; no sound came out. Ari got to his feet, reached for my hand, and pulled me up as well.