Sky in the Deep

by Adrienne Young

  “Eelyn!”

  The sound coiled around my heart as I swung toward the cliff wall and something caught my boot, sending me spinning until more hands slowed me. When I stopped, my father was shouldering his way through the crowd.

  My hands shook, reaching for him as I still hung from the rope. The cry broke free from my throat and I clutched at the air until his big hands found me and pulled me to him. I wept into his shoulder and he shook against me, a cry slipping from his lips as the others unclipped the rope from around me. I squeezed him tighter. He lifted me up and a piece of the fractured world inside me settled back into place. When I came over the ridge to see Hylli burned and broken, I’d been so sure I would never see him again. But he was here, back from the dead, like Iri. Like me.

  He pulled my face to look at me, his hand running over my hair. The tears in his eyes fell down into his thick, bushy beard and landed on the laugh bubbling up from inside of him. I had only seen my father cry twice. Once when my mother died and once when Iri died.

  The truth seared inside me.

  “I knew you were alive. I knew I’d see you again,” he choked out. “The Riki took you?”

  I nodded, sniffing back the rest of the tears. But it only took him seconds to see the thing I hoped he never would. His fingers dropped from my face to my neck, running along the skin beginning to scar from the burns.

  His breaths came harder, his eyes going wild. It crashed over me, violent and angry. Because I’d never seen my father look at me like that.

  Shouts rang against the rock and I tore my eyes from my father, trying to find Fiske. But there were only Aska in every direction, pushing in around us. I lifted up onto my toes, letting go of my father and shoving into the bodies around us as panic rose up inside of me. When I broke through the crowd, Fiske was standing with his back against the cliff face, surrounded. His hands were down by his sides, pumping into fists. I hoped the murderous instinct beneath his hardened face was invisible to the others. His eyes shot from left to right, looking for me.

  My father pushed through and I reached out for him when I saw the look on his face. But he broke from my grip, going for Fiske.

  “Aghi.” I ran after him, trying to stand in his path, but he was too strong. My boots slid on the sand as he pushed forward.

  He took Fiske’s armor vest in his clutches, slamming him back into the wall. A growl erupted between his lips as he pulled his sword from its sheath.

  I wedged myself between them, my back pushing into Fiske’s chest and my hands pressing against my father. “Don’t!”

  His breath was angry in his chest, the hatred in his eyes shining.

  Espen appeared behind him with his axe in his hand. “What is he doing here?”

  “Listen, please,” I said, Fiske breathing against me. The tension in his body radiated out of him and bled through my armor vest. “He’s not here to fight. He helped me get off the mountain.”

  My father took a step back. “What is he doing here, Eelyn?” He echoed Espen’s words, but they were bloodthirsty in my father’s mouth.

  “The Riki…” I tried to get it out. But I could see in their faces they were all waiting for the chance to rip Fiske to pieces. “They’ve all been raided. Like Hylli.”

  The crowd went silent, the Aska turning toward each other. Espen lowered his axe, setting it against his leg, and looked to my father. They didn’t know.

  “The Herja came to Fela. The village suffered losses, but not as many as others did. I saw Möor before I came here. It’s almost gone.”

  “They’ll come back to finish us.” My father turned to Espen.

  His eyes were on the sand, thinking. “We’ve had scouts running to their camp. They’re at least eight hundred.”

  My stomach dropped.

  “They have a group raiding on the mountain. At least fifty of them after their losses.” Every head snapped up at the sound of Fiske’s voice.

  Espen bit his lip. He turned and the crowd opened up to let him through. “Bring him.”

  We followed, weaving through the Aska. They snarled and spit at Fiske as we passed, curses riding under their breath. When we made it out from under the overhang, I finally looked up. The cliff came over the sandy bank sharply, like a roof, and the water ran past in a fast, white-capped current. We followed the rock wall until we reached a line of huts made of bowed branches and grassy tops. Fire pits sat beside each one, dug out of the sand, and the howling wind hit the wall with the smell of mud and wet stone.

  Espen stood with my father and the village leaders in front of a large wooden table at the end of the small bank, waiting.

  “How many Aska are left?” I’d been dreading the answer.

  My father looked as if he didn’t want to respond in front of Fiske, his eyes skipping between us. “Two hundred and ninety able to fight from all the villages. How many Riki?”

  I looked at Fiske. The number was low. Too low. All those Aska. Gone.

  He met my eyes. “We aren’t sure. When we left, the other village leaders hadn’t come together yet. I would say a little less than three hundred from Fela and Möor together. Maybe five hundred including the other villages’ survivors.”

  My father’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.

  “Are you speaking for the Riki then?” Espen leaned into the table.

  Fiske relaxed a little, still keeping an eye on the shadows down the bank. “I am. The Riki leaders want you to join with them to fight the Herja.”

  Espen and my father looked at each other.

  “They are too many for you and too many for us. But together, we may be able to win.”

  “And then?” Espen crossed his arms over his broad chest.

  “That’s for you to figure out with the Riki. I’m not a leader.”

  “Then why did they send you?” My father’s fists rested before him on the table. “How do we know we can trust you?”

  “You don’t.” I stepped forward, meeting my father’s eyes. “The same way they don’t know they can trust us. But we need each other. If we don’t come together, our people are finished. Our way of life is gone.”

  They were quiet.

  “I saw Hylli,” I added quietly. “We don’t have a choice.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  The men questioned Fiske well into the night and it was a long time before they finished talking. I could see that he was uncomfortable giving them the answers they wanted, but he gave them anyway. They were things that compromised the Riki’s defense against the Aska. Things that couldn’t be unsaid.

  “I’ll go.” My father was the first to agree.

  But Espen looked uncertain. “We can’t send others with you, Aghi.”

  “I’ll go with them.” Mýra’s eyes were pinned on me, from where she stood shoulder to shoulder with my father.

  Fiske still stood apart from the rest of us, keeping his back to the cliff face. He wasn’t going to give anyone the chance to catch him off guard.

  “You’ll speak for the Aska, then,” Espen agreed. “And we will meet in Aurvanger.”

  I ran a hand through my hair, unsettled. For generations, we’d met in Aurvanger. The Riki and the Aska. But it was to draw each other’s blood. This time, it would be to save us all. I wondered if we could be warriors fighting alongside each other. If it would make us weaker or stronger.

  When they dismissed us, my father led us through the sleeping camp to a place along the cliff wall that was separated by an outcropping of rock. Down the bank, the Aska leaders continued to argue in the torchlight. Their bent, exhausted whispers rose up over the sound of the water.

  “You can sleep here.” My father handed Fiske one of the rolled woven mats he was carrying. “We leave at daybreak.”

  He turned to leave and I followed him around the sharp section of rock that cut into the water. “I’m staying here.” I swallowed, trying to sound sure. Calm.

  He turned on his heel, facing me. “What?”

  “He can’t sleep alon
e out here. He’ll be dead by morning.”

  His eyes moved over me slowly. Reading me. He, Iri, and Mýra were the only people who could do that.

  “I’ve been travelling with him for days. He’s not a threat to me. And if he becomes one, I can take care of myself.”

  He hesitated. “What is this, sváss?”

  “We need him to get back to Fela. To meet with the Riki.” I sighed. “Trust me. Please.”

  His hand reached out for me and I saw his eyes drop to the scars on my neck again before he pulled me into his arms. “Alright.”

  The angry throb in my shoulder swelled as he tightened his hold. I leaned into his big frame, letting the familiar smell of him fill me. It made me think of the fighting season, hunkered down together in our tent every night in Aurvanger.

  He handed me the other mat rolled beneath his arm. And then he walked into the dark, toward the huts, without looking back. He’d always trusted me completely. But I could feel that faith wavering, threatening to give way to suspicion. I came back around the outcropping and unrolled the mat on the sand. The silence that had fallen between Fiske and me since the night we stayed in Hylli was still there. Every glance and unspoken word echoed within it.

  “You should go with him.”

  I reached into the back of my belt and pulled his knife from where it was tucked under my tunic. I held it out to him.

  He looked at it. “Am I going to need this?”

  “I hope not.” If something happened and Fiske killed an Aska, it would be my responsibility. And it would be the end of any hope to join together.

  He stepped toward me but instead of reaching for the knife, his hand landed on my wrist. His fingers wrapped around my arm and my pulse quickened. “You need to be careful.” The fever building under my skin burned where he was touching me. “If the Aska think you’re protecting me, they won’t trust you.” His fingers pressed deeper. “You need them to trust you, Eelyn. We both do.”

  I looked down at his hand on me and then up to his face. It brought that moment in Aurvanger back so vividly. The moment I first saw him, standing in the fog, his sword drawn.

  “Why did you come?” I whispered, asking again.

  “The same reason you just told your father that you were sleeping here.” He took another step closer and every muscle in my body tightened, waiting. “You don’t really want to know why.” His hand slid down my arm to the knife and he took it, reaching behind him to tuck it into his belt. “And right now, it doesn’t matter.”

  He was right. I wasn’t ready to hear him say it. I wasn’t even ready to let myself think it. I didn’t have the room in my thoughts for trying to figure out what it meant and all that it would bring. Because we could all be dead in the next few days.

  “You didn’t tell them about Iri.” He looked back out at the water as I settled onto my mat.

  “I couldn’t.”

  “You’ll have to.”

  “I know,” I whispered.

  * * *

  Little faces peered over the rock at me as I turned over, waking. When I looked up, they hopped down, running down the bank and kicking up sand around them.

  Fiske crouched down, splashing water onto his face and looking up and down the shore. The water was calmer this morning and now I could see that the river was wide. Wider than any I had ever seen. On each side, tall cliff faces rose up above small sandy banks.

  I sat up and leaned forward to see that the stretch of overhang was actually longer than I’d thought it was and every inch of the sand beneath it was in use. Shelters, nets, fires, worktables. A large rectangle had been chiseled out of the wall and bows, arrows, swords, and knives hung side by side in orderly rows. Farther down, small wooden boats were suspended from the ceiling by rope systems that ran back to the wall and were staked into the ground. It was hard to find, and anyone trying to attack would either have to cross the river or come down over the cliff. It was a perfect hiding place.

  And that thought was painful. The Aska were hiding. A strong and fierce people, now reduced to the shadows.

  “It’s impressive, what they’ve done here.” Fiske wiped the water from his face, looking up at the overhang. He stood, holding a hand out to pull me to my feet.

  Down the bank, a group of women walked up the shore dragging lines of fish behind them with their eyes on us.

  “We should go,” I said, my voice still hoarse with sleep.

  My father and Mýra walked down the edge of the water toward us with Hagen and two others when we came around the outcropping. A man with long hair braided away from his face smiled, holding out a small loaf of bread. I took it when Fiske didn’t, breaking it in half and giving a piece to him. He hesitated before he took it from me.

  “How long?” my father said.

  “Two days. Maybe three, depending on the snow,” Fiske answered.

  Behind us, Espen and Hagen were already pulling a boat down from the riggings on the rock ceiling.

  “You’ll meet us in Aurvanger.” My father met my eyes before he turned toward the boats.

  Fiske bristled.

  I fell into step beside my father, speaking lowly. “I’m going with you.”

  He peered down at me, his forehead wrinkling. “Why? You just came from there. You just got home.”

  “This isn’t home.”

  “Mýra will go. You will stay.”

  “I know the leaders. I know the village. You need me there.” I held his gaze, trying not to let him see too much. But he could. He always could. And whatever he caught a glimpse of, he didn’t like. “Please.”

  He looked out at the water, thinking. And then over his shoulder, to Espen. “Alright.” He chose to trust me. I wondered if it would be the last time.

  Fiske slung our saddlebags over his shoulder and followed him to the boat, where Hagen stood knee-deep in the water, holding it in place as we climbed in. Mýra watched me, biting the inside of her cheek. I knew that look. She was worried.

  I gave her a small smile, but she didn’t look reassured. Her eyes moved to Fiske and then back to me, in a question. One I didn’t answer. Because I could never make her understand something I didn’t understand myself.

  My father took her hands and pulled her inside.

  “You don’t have to come,” I said, sliding over to make room for her.

  She took an oar into her hands, sitting down as the boat rocked. “The only family I have left is in this boat.”

  We floated out into the deep, away from Espen and Hagen standing on shore. Espen looked to my father and something silent was exchanged between them. When my father’s eyes skidded over me, toward the river, my heart twisted. I could feel him pull away from me. I knew when he was hiding something.

  I looked back to Hagen and Espen, but they were already gone. Fiske studied my father. He hadn’t missed it either.

  We watched the cliffs as we floated through the gorge, the river stretched out before and behind us. Mýra kept one paddle in the water, steering us against the current to keep us from the rocks while my father used the other to direct the front of the boat. The river went around bend after bend until we reached a shallow stretch and my father got out to guide the boat to shore. Fiske and I jumped into the water, helping him pull it up onto the sand of a little bank at the bottom of another cliff, and Mýra climbed out behind us.

  Rocks skipped down the side of the cliff as a rope ladder unrolled above us. The end of it slapped against the wet ground as three men leaned over the edge above. Fiske climbed first and when his feet went up over the top, my father held the ladder. I fit my hands and my boots onto the frayed rope rungs.

  His eyes still avoided mine.

  “What are you planning with Espen?”

  Mýra came up from the water and handed a bag to my father. She looked between us.

  He looked up to the cliff’s edge where Fiske had just disappeared. “Our loyalty is to the Aska, Eelyn. You know that.”

  “She knows, Aghi.” Mýra
squared her shoulders at me, standing behind my father.

  I searched his face. “I do. But we need the Riki. You see that, don’t you?”

  Above, Fiske’s head reappeared over the cliff.

  “Let’s go.” My father dismissed me.

  I pulled myself up, wincing at the sharp pain in my arm, and when I reached the top, Fiske took hold of my armor vest and lifted me up onto the ground.

  He looked at my shoulder. “Let me look at it.”

  “Later.” I turned back to watch my father and Mýra at the bottom.

  Fiske leaned over beside me, his words low so that only I could hear. “I won’t take your people to Fela if I can’t trust them. You need to tell him about Iri.”

  I knew he was right. But I knew my father. “It might break him.”

  Fiske caught my eyes. “It might sway him.”

  FORTY

  We followed the sea cliffs back in the direction of Fela. Mýra and my father walked together behind us, leaning into the wind coming up off the water, and Fiske led, walking ahead without looking back at us. My father and Mýra didn’t say anything when I gave Fiske back his weapons, but I could tell by the way they watched him fit his scabbard around his waist that they didn’t like it.

  The mountain came into view as the fog burned off the land. The shadowed outline of it loomed over us, looking down as if it could see us. As if Thora was watching us. Listening. Fiske looked small before it and I imagined what we must look like from up there, four tiny figures moving against a winter sea.

  Me between Fiske and the others.

  Between Aska and Riki.

  We made camp before we reached the valley and no one spoke as we built the fire and laid out our cloaks onto the ground. The nights were getting warmer every day but they would grow colder again as we made our way back toward Fela. Remembering the cold made me shiver. I could still remember the blue, night-shrouded forest that had almost taken my life the night Thorpe tried to kill me.

  I slid my saddlebag from my arm carefully, trying to keep the pain at bay.

  “Let me.” Fiske reached for my arm but my father was already stepping forward to stand between us. Fiske dropped his hand, lifting his chin toward my shoulder. “She’s torn it open.”