Her lips parted in a grin. “Thora has her eye on you, Aska. I could see it the first time I met you.”
“I don’t serve Thora,” I reminded her. “I don’t care about her will and I don’t want her favor.”
She smiled wider. “Neither did Iri.”
My eyes drifted back to the house. The defenses in me readied.
“Inge told me this morning.”
I felt my mouth drop open and my heart soured inside me. Inge said she wouldn’t tell anyone.
“When we returned from the forest, I could see it. When you came through the door. I feel foolish for not seeing it sooner, really. You look just like him, Eelyn.”
I tried to pick apart the tone in her voice. I tried to line it up with the calm look on her face.
“You don’t have to worry about Iri.” She waved a hand at me. “We’re beyond that now, I think. I’ll speak to Vidr. You’ve earned our trust. Now maybe we can earn yours.”
My eyes narrowed. “Why would you want my trust?”
“You’re a warrior. And something tells me we will need every warrior from here to the fjord on our side if we are going to keep the Herja from coming back here and finishing what they started.”
“The Aska?” I laughed. “On your side?”
“Depending on what you find in Hylli, there may not be two sides anymore.”
I looked over my shoulder, to the door. “How did you know I was going to Hylli?”
“They’re your people.” She looked at me, and a bit of that warmth I’d seen her give to the others, she gave to me.
I could see it in her eyes. She thought the Aska were gone. Or close to it.
“In the morning, we send the Riki souls to Friðr and then we leave for the next village. If you want to go to Hylli, we can take you as far as Möor.” She reached out to me, setting her hand on my shoulder, and I tensed, looking at it.
“Fiske and Iri are taking me.” I lifted my chin.
Her eyes jumped past me, toward the house, and I wished I hadn’t said it. She rolled a thought around behind her gaze before it settled into place and her look turned knowing.
“Maybe you’ll find your way back up the mountain after you find what you’re looking for.” Her hand squeezed me gently before it dropped.
The fury reared its head inside me again. She couldn’t just give me a smile and offer me kindness and expect me to give the Riki loyalty. Or trust. I wasn’t Iri.
“Tell me.” I held her gaze. “Tell me about the dream you had.”
The sparkle ignited behind the green in her eyes again and she glanced back to the house.
“I saw you.” Her eyes squinted, considering it. “With a bear in the forest.” Her head tilted to the side again. She was trying to read me.
I kept myself still, trying to keep my face from giving anything away. Anything she may be looking for.
“You don’t know.” She reached into the neckline of her dress and pulled out a bronze pendant on a long chain. She opened her hand flat, holding it out to me. It was etched with the head of a bear, like the one on the doors of the ritual house. “The bears are sacred to Thora. Before she made her people from the melted rock of the mountain, she created them.”
I waited.
“They are her messengers.”
“If you believe Thora favors me, then why did you leave me in the forest that night? Why did you just walk away?”
She looked up to the sky, thinking. “It was the only way I’d know for sure if I was right about you. And I was. Thora preserved you.”
“Fiske saved my life, not Thora.”
She smirked. “Believe what you like, Eelyn. The bear is an omen.” The words came slowly on her thin lips. “And omens often bring change.”
THIRTY
The Riki stood together in the early morning, gathered against the bite of cold as the snow fell softly, floating down from the sky. The little flakes swayed back and forth as they made their way down, where they were eaten by the great fire that burned in front of the ritual house.
I listened to the Tala pray for the fallen Riki, asking Thora to accept them. To keep them until their families joined them in the afterlife. There was no emotion on her face as she spoke. The light in her eyes was dim, but there was still a surety thick in her voice. She was steady and firm. And I could feel each of the Riki holding onto her strength, eagerly looking to her to keep them from flying away on the wind of grief.
The heat of the fire pushed against us and the roaring sound of it found the bitter cries of the mourning, swallowing them up too. I’d heard that sound many times. Usually when we came home from fighting and families searched for the missing faces of loved ones.
There was no sound like that—like the soul tearing.
“Heill para,” she called out, looking up to the sky.
“Heill para.” The words repeated on the lips of every Riki and Fiske’s deep voice sounded at my back.
Safe travels.
The Tala walked across the front of the altar, to a man who was weeping with his shoulders hunched over beneath a thick fur. She whispered into his ear and the choking sobs slowed. He quieted and she looked up into his face before letting him go again and moving to the next person.
I was glad I didn’t know what he’d lost. Who he’d lost.
The bodies of the Riki burned, sending black smoke up into the air. The souls were headed for Friðr, on their way to see lost loved ones. I closed my eyes, trying to push down the dread that was still lingering in my mind. Wondering if I’d be weeping for my father’s soul in two days’ time.
People peeled off from the crowd and I looked for Iri. He stood with Runa, who stared into the flames, her cheeks red on her ashen face. His arm touched hers as her little sister wrapped her arms around Iri’s leg, holding tight.
More Riki fell away, slowly walking down the path back into the village, and I made my way to them. The sharp light of the flames reflected in Runa’s tired eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I said, still thinking of my father.
She nodded, swallowing, before she bent down to pick up her sister and followed her mother down the path. Iri watched them.
“You should stay.” I said.
Iri shook his head. “I can’t.”
“I can make it to Hylli. Your place is here, with her.” I nodded toward Runa. “You’ll have to fight. Soon. You may not have much time left with her.”
He looked down at me, his eyes scanning my face for what I wasn’t saying. “What is it?”
I wrapped my arms around myself, now cold away from the fire. “I don’t know what they will do to you—the Aska. I should talk to them first.”
He nodded, understanding my meaning. There was no way to know how they would react to the truth about Iri. “Alright.”
* * *
I waited for Fiske and Iri outside of the ritual house, watching the last embers of the fire smolder on the altar. The bodies were nothing but ash now, their spirits and flesh gone from this world.
The warriors had gathered to hear Vidr’s plan, but when I tried to go in, two Riki shut the doors on me. I sat against the wall, my fingers hooked into each other, and listened. I could hear them, piping up to argue or calling out in agreement, but it was mostly quiet and I didn’t like the feeling that had fallen over the village. The Riki had always been a capable enemy. They were strong. If they were unsure of what direction to take it meant that they were afraid.
When the doors finally opened, I stood, falling into step beside Iri as he and Fiske came through the doors. “What did he say?”
He was tired and it was beginning to show on his face. It leaked into the grinding of his voice. “They’re going to meet the other village leaders to find out how many we’ve lost. How much help we might need.”
“From the Aska,” I murmured under my breath.
He stopped. “The Herja are too many, Eelyn.”
I turned back to him, my throat constricting. “You know that will neve
r happen.” I shifted on my feet. “Maybe they will leave. Like last time.”
“This isn’t like last time,” he said, almost sadly.
And I knew it was true. When the Herja came before, they only came once. And there hadn’t been so many dead. There hadn’t been so much destroyed. This was different.
We walked the rest of the way in silence, the weight of it sinking in. The Herja that came to Fela could only be a small group of them. There were probably many, many more than either clan knew.
Fiske opened the door, going inside, and he was talking to Inge a moment later, leaving Iri and me alone.
“What did he say?” I asked. Fiske was sitting on the table next to Halvard, checking his nose again.
“He’s going to go with you.”
I breathed, “Why?”
“Eelyn, does everything have to be hard with you?” He shook his head. “You need him to go. He’s going.”
He stepped around me and Inge touched his arm as he passed. She looked at me as I came in and then her eyes went to Fiske.
“They’re gathering. We should go.” He stood.
I picked up my weapons from the bench and fit them into place. Halvard jumped down from the table and ran outside, his feet slapping on the stone.
“You’ll be careful, sváss.” Inge lifted Fiske’s chin to look at her. “And then you’ll come back.”
He didn’t answer her, instead looking into her eyes wordlessly as she held onto his shoulders, praying under her breath. When she was finished, he tried to smile at her. “What are you thinking?” he asked.
She smiled back at him, but it was slanted. Sad. “I’m thinking that you always surprise me.” Her eyes flitted to me again before she let him go and Fiske went to Iri, hugging him. Iri was talking to him, his voice low.
“Ǫnd eldr.” Iri let him go.
“Ǫnd eldr.”
They were words I’d heard before. Breathe fire. The Riki said them to each other on the battlefield.
Inge came to the door, pulling my hair out from under the strap of my axe sheath. “Can I?” she asked from behind me.
A chill ran over my skin as I nodded, sitting down onto the stool in the corner. The one I’d eaten on, watching them at the table together. As a family.
She pulled the length of my hair down my back, working it into thick sections, and braided them down over my shoulder, tying the end. The feeling made me shake, the hazy memories of my mother bubbling up from the depths of my mind. Memories I thought I’d lost.
I stared at the floor. “Is there anything Fiske wouldn’t do for Iri?”
“He loves Iri more than he loves himself, but this isn’t about Iri anymore.” She looked down into my face for a long moment before setting her hands softly on my head. She was praying again.
I held the breath deep inside me, because I knew what it would bring up when I let it go. A hot, stabbing pain in my chest. I wiped at my eyes as she finished and stood, walking toward the door without looking back. Halvard had the reins of the horses, holding them on the path. He didn’t look up to me as I went to him.
“Are you going to come back?” he asked, kicking the snow with his boots.
I took the reins of Iri’s horse, running my hand up his snout. “I don’t know.”
“You could. You could come back if you want.”
I reached into my armor vest and took his hand. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He looked at me, his face changing.
“For being kind to me.”
I dropped the gift into his palm, a simple idol. I didn’t know what his father looked like, and I wasn’t a talented carver, but I’d used the rest of the wood Inge gave me to make it for him.
“Is this my father?” he asked, his voice small.
I nodded, pulling him by his tunic and wrapping my arms around him. He buried his face into my vest, squeezing me, and I tried to push the hair from his face, but it was too wild. The dark purple bruises under his eyes made the blue in them look brighter.
Iri, Fiske, and Inge came from inside the house and Iri stopped in front of me. I stared into his chest, the Riki armor no longer strange to me. Now, the Aska leathers wouldn’t look right on him.
“Elska ykkarr,” he said, and the warmth of the words wound around me.
I love you.
I leaned into him, letting him hold me. I loved him, too. More than anything. But I wondered if I would ever be able to admit it to him again. I wondered if a part of me would always be angry. “What do you want me to tell our father?”
He sighed. “The truth.”
I didn’t want to tell him about Iri. But I could never lie to him.
He kissed the top of my head and held the reins as I lifted myself up onto the horse. Down the path, the Riki were already waiting. Again, I didn’t look back as the bend of the trail took us out of sight. I kept my eyes on Fiske’s back, Iri’s horse following his. I’d thought more than once that I’d seen my brother for the last time. I’d been sure. I didn’t want to feel that feeling again.
“How many days?” I asked, winding the reins tighter around my fists.
But before we’d even reached the ritual house, Fiske was dismounting again, dropping to the ground and taking my horse by the riggings.
“What are you doing?” I tried to pull back but the horse followed him.
He didn’t answer, leading me off the main path, away from the others, until we stopped in front of the blacksmith’s tent. The forge blazed in the shadow.
My brow pulled. “What are you—”
The blacksmith stopped his pounding and looked up at me, a hammer in one hand and his dark leather apron wrapped tightly around his waist.
He looked between the two of us.
“I want you to take it off,” Fiske said. “The collar.” He spoke to the blacksmith, saying something I couldn’t hear over my thoughts.
The blacksmith shrugged. “Alright.”
I held onto the saddle, my fingers white.
“Come on, then.” He tossed the hammer onto the table.
I slid down off the horse as he picked up a long-handled tool with a hook on it. “Here.”
I stepped into the tent and he grabbed hold of the collar, lowering me down to hook one side of it onto an iron bar driven into the trunk of a thick tree.
“Stay still,” he grunted.
He secured the tool into the other side of the collar and took a deep breath before he leaned back, pulling against it with his weight. The collar widened slowly and I stayed still, trying to keep it from touching the burns. When he stood and leaned back to pull again, I pinched my eyes closed and it scraped against me.
He slipped the ring from around my neck and dropped it to the ground in front of me, a broken black circle sunken into the snow.
My fingers ran over the skin on my neck, freed from the weight and the cold of the collar. “Why did you do that?”
“If you’re going home, it won’t be as a dýr.” He uncrossed his arms, going back to the horse. The blacksmith went back to his work and the pounding of iron on the forge rang out around us.
“You don’t owe me anything.” I could hear the Riki down the path starting to move. “You saved my life. More than once. We’re even.”
He glanced down at the ground and I waited for the words building behind his lips.
“We’ll never be even.”
THIRTY-ONE
We rode in a long line through the forest, and I finally understood what Fiske meant when he told me that I’d never find my way off the mountain alone. There was no clear path in the snow. We cut left and right down buried trails and around cliff faces in erratic patterns that made no sense. It took me half the day to realize that we were avoiding the overhanging slopes of the mountain that were packed with a threatening avalanche.
Every movement was specific. They kept their pace slow, staying quiet when we were out from under the cover of the trees. Far ahead of us, Vidr led the group, looking up around us a
s we moved, studying the rise of the mountain.
The Riki ignored my presence and that was better than noticing me. Many of them had been the ones to watch me pluck the eye from the Herja. I shuddered, remembering the hot, soft thing clutched in my shaking hand. Maybe they knew I’d saved the Tala. Maybe I’d earned their trust, like she said. But none of it mattered to me now. I wanted off the mountain. I just needed to get home.
We travelled well into the night and I sat up straight, trying to stretch my back and my tender shoulder. It was still sore and stinging where it was trying to heal, but I kept reinjuring it. I lifted the arm up slowly, gently stretching the muscles, and glanced back at Fiske, where he’d fallen back to ride behind me. The winter moon rose early in the sky, huge and misshapen. It hung over the forest like a buoy floating in the water and the cold hardened around us as the sun went down. With every turn in the path, the dread buried beneath every thought grew heavier, my imagination running wild with what waited for me in the fjord.
A whistle sounded ahead, long and low, and the horses slowed to a stop. Fiske’s boots hit the ground and he waited for me to dismount and tie my horse beside his.
“We’ll sleep a few hours and start again.” He pulled the saddles from the horses and slipped the bearskins from under them.
“Sleep out here?” There was nothing but deep snow.
He pointed to the rock face behind me, where the Riki were disappearing. I hoisted my saddlebag over my good shoulder and we headed in the same direction. Slipping into a wide crack running up the rock from the ground, I recoiled, feeling the need to take my knife into my hand.
The strike of fire-steel lit the cave as someone started a fire, and then another lit behind us. They popped up one by one until I could see the inside of the cavern, aglow with the orange light. It was huge, with a ceiling reaching down in points of dripping stone, like fingers coming to snatch us up and pull us into the belly of the mountain. And it was quiet. So quiet that I could hear the scrape of every boot on the dirt below us.
Fiske moved us toward the fire at the back of the cave and I stepped around the Riki already settling down for sleep. I leaned into the wall, sliding until I was sitting on the ground, and looked around me. The Riki gathered around the other fires, leaving Fiske and me on the edge of the group. It was still strange to see them this way—tired and weak. Heartbroken. The spirit in them was sleeping somewhere deep inside, but it was there. It was like the stillness of the air before an angry storm. And I didn’t like the idea of sleeping in the middle of it.
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