She repeated the words, looking at the woman next in line and setting the garland onto her shoulders. After the Tala had blessed her with the blood of the sacrifice, Fiske came to the front. She touched his face, speaking to him softly. “We honor you, Riki, as you have honored Thora. Lag mund.” He looked down at her, coming low so she could set the garland on him, and she painted him where the collar of his tunic opened. Instead of going back to his seat, he stepped aside, letting Iri come forward.
The Tala’s smile pulled wider, looking up into Iri’s fair face. “We honor you, Riki, as you have honored Thora. Lag mund.” The sound of it shot around inside of me like a flying blade, cutting deep.
Because Iri wasn’t Riki. He was Aska.
He wasn’t hers. He was mine.
I held my breath, wringing my hands together in front of me until the skin burned.
I remembered the way my father looked at Iri and me when we held the funeral rites for our mother’s soul. I remembered the way his eyes said that we were everything. We were everything until Iri was gone. And then the sun of my father’s world grew dimmer again, still rising and setting on me. I’d become both his son and his daughter, carrying his name and honor. It was a heavy mantle, but I was the only one to bear it. And I knew that though he’d never say it, some part of him held me responsible for Iri’s death. Because I was.
I was his fighting mate and that made him my responsibility. It was my job to keep him alive. I should have given my life before his could be taken. The guilt haunted the shadows of my every dream. He was there, in every nightmare. I’d gone into the fighting season, ready to avenge my brother. But Sigr was waiting for me in Aurvanger, ready to pour out his wrath upon me. And now I was being punished for my weakness.
I had failed. I knew that the moment Iri went over the edge.
The Tala brushed a strand of hair from his face before he turned back down the aisle. I watched him, the pride spread over his face like sunlight. I brushed a tear from my cheek, and a feeling like a finger dragging over my skin made me blink. I looked up to where the Tala stood, and for a moment, I thought her eyes were on me.
FIFTEEN
The ceremony broke and the Riki poured into the hall at the back of the ritual house like fish spilling from a net. Inge came to get me, positioning me beside a barrel of ale, and leaving me to serve. I kept my eyes down, trying to stay invisible as they lined up in front of me. Whatever pride I’d had within me felt unreachable. I took their cups, filling them and handing them back in a repetitive motion and ignoring the curses on their lips.
Voices filled the room as the Riki sat at long tables before spreads of roasted venison and stew, eating together. Iri sat with Inge, Fiske, and Halvard along the far wall. Runa sat at the other end of the same table with a man and woman who looked to be her parents and three younger children.
“Hello.” The Tala stood before me with her cup in her hand, her gaze set heavily upon me. “You’re the Aska they brought back from Aurvanger, aren’t you?” Her head tilted to the side curiously.
The others stood nearby, listening, and I watched them draw closer, their hands going to their weapons. I stiffened.
“You’re very beautiful, even with all of that.” She waved a hand at the healing bruises on my face, a smile curling on her lips. “What’s your name?”
I shifted from one foot to the other as I took the cup from her hand, not answering. Her eyes studied me as I filled it. When I handed the cup back to her, she stood, unmoving, still watching me.
“Tala.” A large round woman came to her side, whispering in her ear, and the Tala nodded, her concentration on me broken and pulled in another direction. She glanced at me one last time before she stepped away. The Riki standing nearby were still staring.
“Aska.” Halvard broke through the bodies before me and handed me a cup, smiling wide. “Did you see Fiske and Iri?”
My attention was still on the Riki watching me.
“When I’m old enough to fight, I’ll be honored too.” He folded his arms up on top of the counter.
I had said those very words to my father. When Iri and I were children, we sat at the entrance to our village and watched the Aska go off to fight. We couldn’t wait to join them. We were eleven and twelve when we finally got our wish. In only five years, Halvard would get his.
He took the cup from me and ran off, sloshing the ale as he went. When he reached his table, he climbed up onto the bench beside Fiske and whispered in his ear. Fiske’s eyes shifted to meet mine across the room as Halvard handed him the ale. He took a long drink, looking at me over the rim of the cup.
Another dýr took my place when Inge asked me to clear the tables and I took an empty basket, filling it with dirty bowls and spoons. I moved carefully through the room, making sure I didn’t touch or look at anyone. When I came to clear Iri’s table, Fiske was sitting alone with his empty cup, leaning against the wall.
I gathered up the mess, dumping the meat bones into one side of the basket and stacking dishes into the other. Iri stood down the wall beside Runa and I stopped as soon as I saw him, freezing with a bowl clutched in my hands. He stood so close to her that her skirt brushed against him. My widened eyes traveled down and I swallowed down the burn of bile. His hand was dropped by his side, his fingers winding into hers.
I looked down to the table, the sight stinging inside my head like the hot dýr collar against my skin. When I looked up again, Runa was laughing and I dropped the bowl into the basket, letting it clatter against the others.
I shoved off the table, stalking across the hall and weaving in and out of the Riki. I burst through the doors and dropped the basket into the snow. The dishes tumbled out onto the ground and I pinched my eyes closed, trying to stay balanced as the world spun around me. The cold air burned in my dry throat, my muscles twitching.
I’d wondered what could break the bond between an Aska and his clansmen and cause him to turn against his people. What could make him leave his own family behind. I’d always thought of Iri as strong. Wise. But my brother was a fool. He’d given us up for a Riki girl. And if Iri could do a thing like that, then what was I doing here? I’d followed him into the forest. I’d gone after him. Risked everything. For this.
He hadn’t just become one of them. Iri was in love with one of them.
“What are you doing out here?”
A Riki man stood at the entrance of the ritual house, his hand gripped around the handle of his axe. Snowflakes fell, catching in his red beard, and I looked down at the basket toppled over at my feet.
“What are you doing out here, Aska?” he snarled.
I crouched down to pick up the dishes and bones, setting them back into the basket carefully. His boots crunched in the snow, coming toward me. I stood, holding the basket between us. When he took another step, I had to step backward.
He looked down to the buttons on my dress. “Didn’t know there was a lady under that armor vest.”
I tried to step around him but he moved, blocking me. My eyes landed on the knife at his hip.
“If I’d known, maybe I would have bought you myself.” He smiled as his fingers tightened around the axe handle. “Maybe Fiske would take a good price for you.”
He dropped his face next to mine and when I felt his hot breath on my skin, I reached, snatching the knife from its sheath and finding his neck with its cold edge. I pressed the tip of the blade beneath his jaw and looked him in the eye, the twitching in my body slowing. It brought me back to the fight that filled me. I listened to the sound of his breath bursting in and out in surprise and pushed the blade a little farther.
The amusement in his eyes was gone, his hands going up and his body stiffening against the knife. Calm flooded into every dark place within me. I wanted to press until the soft skin gave way to the blade. Until I felt the warmth of his blood on my numb skin. I wanted to feel anything but the betrayal of my brother. This is where I belonged. Spilling Riki blood. And Iri was Riki now.
“Aska.” My eyes snapped up to see Fiske standing in the archway of the ritual house. His eyes moved from the man to me and back again. He stalked toward us.
The Riki’s eyes were boring into me, his breaths still heavy. He clenched his teeth, his face turning red as Fiske reached us. His hand clamped down hard onto my arm, and he wrenched the knife from my grip. He dropped it to the ground before he yanked me toward the trees.
SIXTEEN
I stumbled, trying to keep up with him, but he didn’t slow. Fiske’s grip on my arm sent a shooting pain into my shoulder, making me dizzy. When we were far enough into the forest that I could no longer see the ritual house, he stopped, releasing me.
“Do you want to die? Stay away from the other Riki.”
I held my arm to my side, glaring at him. “If you wanted me to stay away from them, why did you make me come here?”
He looked back the way we came, his voice dropping lower. “What was the Tala saying to you?”
I clenched my teeth. “She was admiring what you did to my face. I should have taken off my dress and let her see the rest of your work.”
He flinched at the words, moving a step back. “If you don’t start acting like a dýr, you’re going to keep drawing attention to yourself. To both of us.”
“What do you mean act like a dýr?” I picked up the collar around my neck and let it drop back down against my skin. “I am a dýr. I won’t pretend to like it. If you want to punish me so I don’t embarrass you, you can drag me back to the ritual house by my hair and beat me to death. I’m sure your clansmen would enjoy it. It would be a better end for me than knowing I’d spent the entire winter shining a Riki’s armor of my clansmen’s blood because my brother is a fool,” I whispered hoarsely, my chest rising and falling beneath the fit of the dress.
He glared at me, his pulse moving at his neck where the stroke of ritual blood was dried on his skin. The blue of his eyes glinted in the faint light. “You want to go?” He launched me toward the trees. “Go!”
I turned in a circle, nothing but snow-covered trees as far as I could see.
The building fury in the center of my chest exploded and I shoved into his chest with my fists. He didn’t budge. I hit him again, harder, and he snatched my wrists up with both hands, holding me before him as I tried to wrench free.
“I shouldn’t have listened to Iri,” he muttered. “His concern for you is going to get him killed.”
“So be it. He’s betrayed me and dishonored the Aska. He deserves to die.” I spat.
His face changed, a flash of darkness igniting in his eyes. His fingers tightened around my wrist as he pushed me back, pinning me to a tree. His axe slid from its sheath smoothly before the cold blade pressed to my throat.
“Threaten my family again and I will kill you,” he breathed. “I’ll kill you and then I’ll wait for the thaw. I’ll go down to the fjord and kill your father while he sleeps.”
My eyes widened, my mouth dropping open. I looked into his face, trying to measure the hatred there. But it was something else. Something more ferocious than hate.
It was love. For Iri.
“Iri would never forgive you,” I grunted.
“I care more about keeping him alive than I do his forgiveness. I will leave you dead in this forest and tell Iri you ran.” He drifted closer.
“Then do it.” I leaned into the blade, meeting his eyes as a sob broke from the words. And for a moment, I thought he would. I almost wished for an end to the cracking, crumbling ache in my chest.
I lifted my chin defiantly, as more tears fell down my cheeks. I wouldn’t beg for my life. But in the next breath, his eyes lost their blaze, traveling over my face. I held his stare, not moving as he leaned in closer to me. His breath brushed across my skin, making me shudder. I didn’t blink.
“I don’t have to.” The blade lifted from my throat suddenly, and he stepped back. “You’ll find your own end before the snow melts because your pride and your anger are more important to you than your own survival.”
I drew back, the words stinging. Because they were true. More true than I wanted to admit. “I’ll be gone before the thaw.”
“Good.” He looked at me a long moment, his brows pulling together before he turned, leaving me. The axe was still clutched in his fist as I watched him trudge up the hill in the deep snow to where the smoke of the ritual house was rising above the treetops.
I caught my breath, trying to slow the tears before I followed, stepping into Fiske’s footprints until I was standing before the ritual house doors. Thora looked down on me, her eyes hungry.
I went inside with the basket of broken dishes on my hip and made my way to the stone trough where the other dýrs were working. The bowls tumbled into the water and the slave standing beside me looked up. She moved away, watching around us warily.
Across the room, Fiske sat beside Iri at the table with Runa. The Tala was standing over her, her fingers combing through Runa’s hair. By the fire, the red-bearded man stood beneath the hanging antlers and watched me. His fingers were pressed to the trickle of blood trailing down his neck from his beard.
I turned away from them, plunging my hands down into the hot water and scrubbing. Fiske was right. I wouldn’t last in this village the whole winter. I couldn’t wait for the thaw. I had to find a way home.
SEVENTEEN
Inge left before dawn to gather garlic and sage in the forest, leaving me to make breakfast for the others on my own. Halvard insisted on helping, waking almost as soon as I did and making it impossible to search the house for weapons.
“Will you show me now?” He stood close to me, holding out the fire-steel.
I looked past him, to where a bowl of blackberries sat on top of a cabinet.
He followed my gaze, laughing when he realized what I wanted. He retrieved the bowl and set it down before me. “Please?”
I picked up one of the berries and popped it in my mouth. “Like this.” I gathered the kindling into a pile at the side of the pit.
He watched carefully, perched on the stone beside me. “I’ve never met an Aska before.”
I picked up the fire-steel and lifted it up to strike.
“Iri says you live on the fjord.”
The fire-steel slipped, and I scraped my knuckles on the stone.
He fetched it from the floor and handed it back to me. “I’ve never seen the sea.”
I struck it again, this time catching a spark. Halvard cupped his hands around the kindling to protect it from the cold air. Once it was burning, he picked it up and moved it to the stack of wood and I went to the pot. I ate the berries as he tried on his own.
“My father said the Aska hang seashells over their doors.” He struck the fire-steel against the stone.
I stopped stirring, looking up to him.
“Why do they do that?” The third time, the kindling caught and he looked up at me, pleased with himself. He climbed up onto the table and sat cross-legged, watching me stir.
I stared into the pot. “They catch the wind, making music.”
His eyes twinkled as he tried to imagine it.
The sound of blades clanging together rang outside where Iri and Fiske were running through fighting maneuvers as the sun came up. Their grunting and labored breath found us through the open window.
If I were home, Mýra and I would be doing the same, keeping up our strength and skill until the next fighting season or whatever threat may come against Hylli. We spent our mornings on the fishing boats and our afternoons on the hillside running drills. By the time the snow began to melt and I got out of Fela, I would probably be too weak to even swing my sword. I’d always been a skilled fighter even if I was smaller than many Aska warriors. When I got back to the fjord, I would have to start over.
When Iri came back inside, he was alone. He came to the fire and helped cook, turning the grains over on the stone. He watched Halvard and me talking, smiling at the corner of his mouth.
“Do all the Aska
look like you and Iri?” Halvard looked between us.
I turned my back to Iri. “Some. We all look different, like the Riki do.”
“Then how do you tell your people from our people when you’re fighting?”
“Sometimes, you can’t.” I shot Iri a look, hoping he understood my meaning.
And he did. He looked back at me, his face hardening. “The Aska armor is a red leather with bronze metal. The Riki use brown leather and iron,” he answered.
Halvard slid down from the table and took the spoon from me to push the fish around in the pot that hung over the fire. “I promise not to kill you if I ever see you in battle.” He stopped stirring and looked up at me.
I stared at him, unable to help the smile pushing onto my lips. I tried to picture him on the battlefield and then wondered how long Halvard would live. In five years, he’d be old enough for the fighting season. But there was something soft about him. Something that wouldn’t hold up well in a fight. I wondered what I would do if I saw him there, on the other side.
The smile melted off my face and I swallowed.
I set the bowls on the table, taking my own and retreating to the stool in the corner. Iri picked up the fourth bowl, pouring it back into the pot. “Fiske isn’t here.”
“Where did he go?” Halvard looked disappointed.
Iri bent over his bowl to scoop a large bite into his mouth. “Checking the nets.”
My fingers tightened around my spoon, my heart skipping a beat. If Fiske was checking nets, there had to be a river nearby. And rivers ran down the mountain. Into the valley and on to the sea. If I could find the river, I could find home.
Inge came through the door and dropped a large crate on the floor before she went back outside. “Iri, I need you to help Kerling inside.”
He stood, going through the door and walking down the path to where a man with a long blond beard stood beside a pregnant woman. I realized she must have been the woman they spoke of, Gyda. His arm was draped over her shoulder and she leaned into him, keeping him balanced. Iri met them on the path, taking the man’s other arm, and they hobbled up to the door slowly.
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