Sky in the Deep

by Adrienne Young

  I looked back at them. “What?”

  “We need a new net made. Can you make it?”

  I looked back out the door, remembering. Sitting on the dock with salty rope in my hands. Tying knots and repairing broken strands while Iri cleaned fish beside me. I nodded.

  Another scream rang out and Iri shot to his feet and froze. Listening.

  Then another. And another.

  I knew that sound. We all did. Screaming in the middle of a clear night. Wood breaking. Metal clanging.

  They were the sounds of a raid.

  TWENTY-SIX

  As soon as I thought it, the warning bell sounded in the ritual house and Iri and Fiske moved like one person, going for their weapons on the wall.

  I pulled the door, leaving it cracked open just enough to peer out. The only thing I could see was the warm glow of the fire in Gyda’s house across the path. When I turned back around, Fiske was holding my weapons in his hands. They hovered in the air between us. My sword and my axe. My knife.

  I stared down at them, my mouth falling open.

  “Fiske?” Halvard’s sleepy, wavering voice came down from the loft.

  He pushed the weapons into my hands and I clutched them to my chest as that still quiet poured into me. That sure, steady thing I knew. The fight inside of me. The whistle sounded again and the bellowing grew, getting closer. Fiske looked at the door and then back to Halvard.

  “Go.” I dropped the scabbard over my head, tightening the straps. “I’ll stay with him.”

  He looked at me and then back up to Halvard. “Get across the path to Gyda’s when it’s clear.” He waited for me to nod.

  Iri went to the door, sliding his knife into his belt and taking an axe into each hand. I swallowed hard, turning back to the fire, and they slipped out into the dark, where more wailing echoed in the village.

  I fit the axe onto my back and it centered me. Brought me back into myself. The familiar weight of my sword at my hip was an anchor.

  Above me, Halvard peered over the edge of the loft. “What’s happening?” Tears glistened in his eyes.

  There was no point in coddling him. He knew what a raid was. “Where are your weapons?”

  He disappeared over the ledge and a few minutes later, he came down the ladder with his scabbard fit to him. He went to the trunk against the wall and pulled out a belt with a knife in it.

  He handed it to me. “It was my father’s.”

  I pulled it around his waist, tying the leather into a knot because it was too big to fit him. But it would do. He could reach it and that was all that mattered.

  I knelt down in front of him, looking up into his eyes. “Have you ever killed a man?”

  He shook his head skittishly.

  “Do you know how? Where to strike?”

  “I—I think so.”

  “Show me.”

  His small, shaking hand lifted, pressing to my neck. I nodded. Then he dropped it down to my stomach, my side, my lower back.

  “That’s right.” I tried to smile. “Are you better with a sword or a knife?” I knew he wasn’t very good with the axe. I’d seen it.

  “Sword.” He lifted his chin and tried to pull the nerves back inside.

  “Alright. Take a deep breath and listen to what I’m about to tell you.”

  He obeyed, inhaling slowly and standing up straight in front of me.

  “In a moment, someone will come through that door. They will try to kill us or take us, but I’m going to kill them before that happens.”

  He nodded.

  “If they kill me, or they take me, it will be your job to kill them. Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  I uttered the words that had once been said to me, the night my mother died. “You run into the forest. You don’t stop until morning. No matter what.”

  The sound of screaming echoed in my head, taking me back to that night in Hylli. Running barefoot in the trees. Iri before me. My father’s deep, grinding voice behind me.

  Run!

  Halvard’s eyes danced over my face. “Alright.”

  “You don’t try to help me. You don’t come back for Inge or Fiske or Iri. You run. You leave them behind.”

  The night Iri pulled me into the forest was the same night I’d become a warrior. If he survived, this would be that night for Halvard too.

  The tears smarted in his eyes again.

  “Don’t cry,” I ordered, standing. “If you die tonight, you’ll see your father in Friðr. Right?”

  He smiled, sniffing. “Right.”

  The door creaked and Halvard’s face fell, his eyes going wide. I turned to stand in front of him, sliding my sword from its sheath slowly.

  A figure stood in the open doorway.

  And I knew right away. My sword almost fell from my grasp, my heart stopping. A wildfire of fear ran over me and I tried to pull air into my lungs. I blinked.

  Slick, shining furs. The glint of silver. White, dead eyes.

  Herja.

  My eyes ran over him. His long stringy hair fell down around his face and he stared down at me with no expression. I eyed the sword in his hand and stepped back slowly.

  “It’s just a dýr,” he called back over his shoulder, his eyes on the collar around my neck.

  Another man came into view behind him, glancing inside, and then disappeared.

  “Stay back, Halvard,” I said calmly, my heart finding its rhythm again.

  He obeyed, moving toward the wall on the other side of the fire, his small sword in his hand.

  The Herja took a step toward us and the blood ran faster under my skin. Reaching every muscle. I watched his movements carefully, sinking into my feet and finding my balance. He looked around the house, his eyes taking stock. What he wanted to take. And who he wanted to kill.

  I watched, waiting for it.

  One breath.

  He pulled his knife free.

  Two breaths.

  He took another step.

  Three breaths.

  He leapt toward me and I reached for the pot on the fire, taking it by the handle and flinging it toward him. It hit him in the chest, knocking him over, and he howled, the hot stew burning his dirt-smeared skin. He slid on the wet stone, looking up at me with shock lighting on his face.

  Then he was moving again. I tightened my grip on my sword and pulled my axe free as he stood, using the momentum to swing it around and catch his armor vest. But he was still standing with his sword rising up over my head. I swung again, this time for his legs, and he barreled into me. I hit the floor, losing the sword, and the axe slid, hitting the wall next to Halvard. I scrambled after it as more screams rang out in the dark.

  Maybe Runa. Maybe Inge.

  “Eelyn!” Halvard yelped behind me and I rolled as the sword came down on the stone next to me, sending sparks flying out around us. I grabbed the axe, sitting up, and snapped it down over my head. The hot pain in my shoulder erupted again as the axe flew, cutting through the air and sinking into the man’s thigh. His sword dropped to the ground, clanging.

  I sprang to my feet, getting to it before he did, and reared it back before piercing it down into his side with a shriek. He coiled in on himself, crying out, and the other Herja appeared in the doorway again, looking from me to the man writhing on the ground.

  He ran toward us, his sword ready at his side, and I lifted the axe from the man’s leg and threw it. It spun in the air until it plunked into his ribs. It was a bad throw, but it hit him. He fell to one knee, trying to stand, and I ran to him, taking up the sword on the ground and running it through his middle.

  He grabbed onto me, blood pouring from his mouth, his gnarled fingers pulling at my tunic as he fell forward onto me. Halvard ran to the door, slamming it closed, and came to help roll the man to the side. I stood, my chest heaving and his blood dripping from my hands.

  I took up my axe and sword.

  “You alright?” Halvard looked at me with wide eyes.

  I nodded, goi
ng back to the door. The village was alight with fire, roaring up where it consumed the houses below. Across the path, Gyda’s door was still closed. The forest was dark as pitch, but I could see the tree line. I tried to think. I could run into the trees and get to the river. It was dark, but it was worth a try. No one would come after me. No one would even notice.

  Terror paled Halvard’s face as he looked out over the fires burning in the homes down the path. He’d probably make it to Gyda’s. He was small and hard to see in the dark. Maybe they wouldn’t even see him. But the thought made my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth, a chill running up my spine. I growled, my hand tightening around my sword. Even if Halvard made it, Kerling couldn’t defend the others.

  I couldn’t leave now.

  “Come on.” I wrapped one arm around him and held him against me as I flung the door open and we ran out into the dark, swords drawn.

  The firelight from the house spilled out onto the snow before us and a shadow came from the trees. I broke off from Halvard, shoving him toward the light coming from Gyda’s. I let my arm swing back and snapped it forward, bringing my sword in front of me. I drove it into the Herja, shoving her to the ground as I passed, one eye still on Halvard.

  “Eelyn!” he screamed as footsteps sounded behind me.

  I turned back to swing the axe around me and another woman fell into it, stumbling to the ground as the moonlight reflected off the silver armor. I pulled it free and brought it down again, into her back just as Halvard appeared, almost running into me.

  He ran ahead and when another man came on our heels, I stopped short, bending low to let him fall over me. He rolled across the snow, his sword flying, and another man hit me from behind. I drove my sword behind me, catching him in the gut, but the other man was back on his feet. I didn’t have enough time.

  He ran at me and I closed my eyes, curling in on myself.

  But it never came. The blow. I heard him hit the ground in front of me and opened my eyes to see him facedown on the ground, a knife stuck in the back of his neck. Behind him, Halvard stood, his hand still lifted from the throw.

  “Run!” I yelled, getting back to my feet.

  Halvard turned as a figure knocked into him. A Herja wrapped his arms around his body, hoisting him up and running as Halvard flailed in his arms.

  “Halvard!” I shouted, my feet digging into the deep snow as I ran.

  But the Herja was ahead of me, moving faster. When he reached the trees, I pumped my arms harder. I was losing him in the chaos as more Herja poured into the forest, retreating.

  I turned back to the village, my eyes darting from one side to the other as bodies flew past me. “Iri!” I screamed. He couldn’t possibly hear me. He couldn’t possibly be close enough. “Fiske!” I screamed again, until my lungs felt like they were bleeding.

  Behind me, Halvard’s screams echoed in the dark.

  Something sounded deep inside my chest. Something grinding, breaking against me, like the crack of an avalanche. Something so desperate and angry that it could tear me open.

  Hands grabbed me and I turned, swinging my axe, and Fiske ducked.

  I gulped in a breath, dropping the axe to the ground and grabbing hold of his armor vest. “Halvard—they have him!”

  He looked down into my face, trying to understand. Trying to put it together. “No.”

  I didn’t have enough breath left to explain. I pointed into the trees.

  He picked up my axe and shoved it back into my hands. Without hesitation he took off, and I ran after him. We weaved in and out of the trees, the snow thinning beneath our feet as we went downhill. Behind us, no Riki were coming and I knew what that meant—that whatever was going on in the village was bad enough to let the Herja leave alive.

  We came up on the last of them on light feet, staying low to the ground. Fiske threw his knife, dropping the first man as it stuck in his throat, and I took the second, sliding on the frozen ground as his blade flew over me. I reared back and stabbed him between his shoulder blades. He arched, throwing his head back, and landed on his side. When I turned around, Fiske already had another one on the ground.

  We closed in on the swarm of them moving down the wooded slope a few minutes later and stayed in the thick of the trees, melting into the dark. They walked in a long line, their armor vests shining in the moonlight.

  We stopped, crouching close together behind a fallen, rotting tree, and peered up over it. The Herja were pulling the captured Riki by ropes tied around their necks, like leashes. I cursed under my breath, trying to make out Halvard’s body, but there were so many Herja I couldn’t see him. A horse brayed and my eyes shot to the animal at the back of the line. Three figures were being pulled behind it, one of them limp and dragging. I lifted up onto my knees, my eyes going wide.

  Fiske breathed heavily beside me. “Can you see him?”

  I dug my fingers into the bark of the tree. “I think the small one behind the horse is him. I’m not sure.”

  “I can’t see him.” He swallowed the words. “Maybe they…”

  “If they wanted to kill him, they would have done it in Fela. The Herja take people when they raid. You know that.”

  But he also knew why. If the stories were true. The Herja sacrificed the ones they captured. We’d found the blood-drained bodies in the forest after they came to Hylli.

  He looked at me, the same thought like a storm on his face. A long breath pushed between his lips and he set his forehead against the tree, closing his eyes.

  “We can get to him, but we can’t get the others,” I whispered. “There are too many of them.”

  He looked at the snow, thinking. “We’ll take Halvard. We’ll come back for the others.”

  I nodded. “And then we’ll kill every last one of them.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  We stayed low, cutting east and heading down the slope parallel to the Herja as they moved deeper into the forest. The cold found its way through my armor as we crept closer and I kept my eyes on Halvard, being pulled by the black horse at the rear. When the line had spread enough that they were falling behind, I stopped, pointing in the right direction.

  The moonlight came through the trees and lit Halvard’s face in a quick flash. His nose looked broken, a stream of blood pouring down onto his tunic. I winced against the sting behind my eyes. Probably his first broken bone. Maybe his first glimpse of violence and the life the rest of us lived.

  As soon as Fiske caught sight of his brother, he tensed, almost launching himself forward. I grabbed hold of his arm, lowering him back down to the ground. But he was all angles and sharp edges, his eyes strained. The construction of his face shifted and pulled, sending my heart into my stomach. He was afraid. And it looked so foreign on him.

  I let my fingers wrap around his arm, squeezing, and he came back into himself, pulling his eyes from Halvard’s shadowed form and setting them on me. He sunk back down, slowing his breaths, and I held his gaze until I knew he wouldn’t fly down the slope swinging his sword.

  We were far enough ahead to see Halvard as he struggled to keep up with the horse, stumbling along the trail with his fingers hooked into the rope around his neck to keep the sliding knot from tightening. If he fell, it would choke him.

  A woman was tied beside him and they walked alongside the bloodied body being dragged over the trail. Whoever it was, they were dead.

  We didn’t move. We didn’t make a sound.

  I searched for a stone on the ground and when I’d found one about the size of my palm, I stood.

  Fiske’s hand caught my wrist, stopping me. “I should go.”

  “I’ve got him, Fiske,” I whispered. I was smaller and faster, less easily seen. As soon as he came out of the brush, they’d spot him.

  He looked at me for another moment before he let me go, and I lifted one foot. I moved slowly, avoiding the patches of light on the forest floor. Fiske followed behind me with one hand pressed to my back.

  The clouds moved overh
ead and darkened the forest again as the horse neared us. Fiske pulled the knife from his belt, sinking down, and I raised the rock in my hand. As soon as the next group of Herja passed, I swung my arm back and flicked my wrist, sending the rock skidding over the brush between the trees, like it was skipping on water. It crossed in front of the horse and the animal reared up, its nostrils flaring.

  Halvard steadied himself against a tree and the horse stamped the ground nervously as the other Herja continued down the path. I slipped my knife from its sheath.

  The two Herja walking behind caught up, one of them taking the reins and clicking his tongue to calm the animal. “Cut that one free.” He nodded toward the dead Riki on the ground.

  I took one step as the second man obeyed, crouching down to saw at the rope with the blade of his axe. The riggings rattled and I cut left, going wide around the horse to across the path still shrouded in darkness. Ahead, the Herja still moved down the slope.

  I came up on the first man’s side fast. By the time he heard me, it was too late. I leapt up, hooking my arm around his neck and pulling the knife across his throat until blood spurted out in a pulsing stream. Fiske dropped the other man beside him and Halvard’s eyes found us in the dark. He instantly began to cry.

  Down the path, more Herja were coming.

  “Shh.” I reached him, cutting through the rope in one motion and shoving him toward Fiske. He picked Halvard up and the boy’s arms and legs wrapped around him as he started back up the slope.

  Then I saw her.

  Standing on the trail, with a rope around her neck, the Tala was watching me. I stopped, looking around us. The forest was still quiet except for the footsteps of three Herja coming closer. And she stood there, like she knew what I was going to do. I wanted to leave her tied to that horse like she’d left me. Until she was the next body dragging over the forest floor. I wanted to punish her. But there was something knowing in her eyes. Calm. Like she’d been waiting for me.

  Before I could think, I turned the knife over in my hand and threw it to her, handle first, and she caught it. Her gaze was still heavy on me as I pivoted on my heel and a few seconds later, I could hear her following behind, falling into step with me as I caught up to Fiske on the slope.