It wasn’t until they were scaling down the snowy ridge that I knew what I’d done. I’d spent every waking moment trying to get back to them and now I was sending them off without me. If there was a last chance, this was it. But my feet stayed planted where they were.
“Two days.” Fiske tried to calm the unease he could see coming to life in me.
“What did she say to you?” I asked, watching Mýra disappear over the hill.
“That she would kill me if anything happens to you.” He laughed. “I believe her.”
A soon as they were out of sight, we got to work. I listened to Fiske and Inge talk. About plans. Supplies. Traveling to Aurvanger. I ignored the feeling of my heart being pulled down the mountain and let the sound of his voice brush up against me and touch that place in the center of me that was still soft. It made me tremble, thinking of his hands on me. Remembering the way his mouth tasted on mine. I couldn’t undo the tether between us. And I didn’t want to.
We prepared everything Inge and Runa needed to treat the wounded. We checked weapons, riggings on the horses, we filled saddlebags and wrapped bread. When we were packed, we went to Runa’s and helped her family. Her mother was going to fight for the first time in twenty years. She pulled her scabbard from a dust-covered trunk in the shadows of their house and I sat outside, mending the hole in her armor vest. I watched the others load up their horses, feeling truly invisible among them for the first time. As if they’d forgotten me.
We headed down the mountain the next morning in one long line, trailing the path, and I walked beside Inge’s horse with Halvard. Fiske looked back to keep his eye on us from where he rode ahead with Vidr and Freydis. Inge looked at them from the corner of her eye. I’d noticed her doing it after the attack, when Vidr and the Tala seemed to keep noticing Fiske. How they kept singling him out. I didn’t like it either. And I didn’t like what it may mean in battle.
We camped in the forest, huddling together around small fires to keep warm, and Fiske took a turn scouting with a group that went out with Latham. The Herja still lingered below, at the foot of the mountain in the northern valley. The light of their fires showed how big their camp was and I was glad we couldn’t see their numbers. I didn’t want to know how many there were when I stepped onto the battlefield. I wanted to fight the way I always had. Without thinking about odds.
Inge, Halvard, and I slept side by side on the forest floor and I woke in the middle of the night to Fiske sliding beneath my blanket in the dark. His face went into my hair, his arms winding tightly around me. I dreamed until he was pulling free again to meet with Vidr and the others in the very first light of morning. He kissed me between the eyes and I listened to his footsteps fall quiet as he moved back into the trees.
I rolled over to see Inge buried in a bearskin, facing me. Her tired eyes were half opened, looking at me over Halvard’s sleeping body, and my heart twisted in my chest. I waited for fear or disapproval to find its way onto her face, but it didn’t come. Instead, her hand reached for me. When I took it, she lifted up the bearskin and pulled me closer to Halvard’s side, tucking its edge around me. She smiled before she slipped back into sleep and I watched them breathing in and out peacefully, until the camp broke up to move again. Halvard stretched, his feet finding mine beneath the blankets.
We took the long way around the lake because there were so many of us. I kept my eye on Runa, staying close to her as we walked through the second night. When we came around the last bend of the mountain, the Aska were visible in the eastern valley, gathered behind the switchbacks. They looked so small compared to the Herja camp.
They were the last of us. The last of my people.
Fiske stopped beside me at the edge of the drop-off, looking down at them. We stood there in silence for a long time as the line of Riki passed, the wind rushing over us in big gusts. The sound of it roared in my ears.
“What are you thinking?” He took my hand.
“I’m thinking I don’t want to fight anymore.”
His fingers tightened around mine. It seemed so foolish now, all the fighting. All the death and loss and mourning. The feud between our clans was nothing in the shadow of the heartbreak that had befallen us.
“What will you do?” he asked, his voice low. “After.”
I looked at him, but his eyes stayed on the camp, not meeting mine. “My father and Mýra are in Hylli.” It was the only answer I could give him. I tried to imagine going home and leaving him in Fela. But there was no point in trying to imagine what may never come. We could both die fighting the Herja.
His lips parted, as if he might speak, but he didn’t. His arm came around my shoulders to pull me close.
The sun was setting by the time we reached the valley, and the Riki made camp across the river. The leaders agreed that keeping the clans separate would give us the best chance at avoiding complications. The Aska stood in a line at the edge of the water, looking out to us. But this time, not for battle.
I made my way across the river and walked the path through the white tents, searching for my father and Iri. Hagen pointed in the direction of the meeting tent and I found them sitting around a fire with Espen. Iri stood, coming to meet me. The sight of him standing among them, still wearing Riki armor, was strange and unfamiliar. But that’s what it would look like in battle. Aska and Riki together.
“Runa?”
“She’s with Inge.” I nodded. “Where’s Mýra?”
“Helping Kalda prepare for the wounded.” He nodded toward the healer’s tent, where shadows moved against the canvas in the firelight.
“Vidr wants to meet in the morning. Tonight, they’ll make camp and watch the edge of the valley to make sure the Herja don’t know we’re here.”
“We won’t have much time. Maybe a day before we have to attack.” Espen spoke behind him.
My father nodded. “I agree.”
The sun finished sinking as I walked with Iri back to the river. We found the shallows and when I stopped, he turned to wait for me.
“I’m staying here tonight.”
The Riki camp across the water in the distance was beginning to glow with night fire. We stood shoulder to shoulder, looking out at it.
“I’ll tell Fiske.” His deep voice was delicate. Careful.
I tried to read the look on his face, but he was doing the same to me. “I don’t know what to do.” I’d already made a choice, but I didn’t know if it was one my clan could live with.
“Yes, you do.” He looked at me again.
“I can’t leave the Aska,” I whispered. “Not now.”
“Maybe you won’t have to.”
But Fiske living among the Aska the way Iri lived among the Riki was something I’d never ask of him.
I stood, watching Iri cross the river as night fell. When I scanned the water’s edge, I spotted Fiske. A silhouetted outline standing on the bank of the river. He looked out over the water toward our camp and I wondered if he could see me in the darkness. If he could feel me watching him.
“Eelyn.” My father’s voice found me and I took one last look over my shoulder to where Fiske stood before I went to him. I ducked into the tent where he and Mýra were waiting for me. Her hair fell over her shoulders, reaching down to her hips. She looked just like she did when we were young. I sat on a stool and she tilted my face to the side, dragging her blade carefully over the shorn part of my scalp, beneath the length of hair on the right side of my head. When she finished, I reached up, running my fingers over it.
“What happened in Fela?” She wiped her blade against her pants. “Before you came to Hylli?”
My eyes drifted to my father, but he was bent over his sword, sharpening the blade. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve given your heart to that Riki.” There was nothing in her tone that revealed her thoughts.
I wasn’t going to deny it. Mýra knew me as well as my father did. But he’d had the sense not to ask what he didn’t want to know. “You won’t unde
rstand,” I whispered. And I pinched my eyes closed, remembering Iri speaking the same words to me.
She slid the knife back into its sheath and looked down at me. “I don’t need to understand.” She offered me her hand and I took it. “You’re alive and you’re with us. That’s all I care about.”
They settled down onto their knees and I found my place beside them, pulling the idol of my mother from my armor vest. Beside me, Mýra held the idols of her entire family in both her hands. Her mother, her father, her sister, and her brother. I could still see their faces in my mind and guilt, hard and solid in my throat, made it difficult to breathe.
I let out a long exhale, warmed in the familiar sound of the prayers. Their whispered words lifted in the tent and I stayed quiet, listening to their voices. I closed my eyes, pressing the idol to my heart, but I didn’t cry. The unsteadiness was gone, being near them and knowing that Iri and Fiske were on the other side of the river, safe. Inge, Halvard, and Runa too.
I touched the face of my mother’s idol. I pressed my lips to it and prayed. The same prayers I’d prayed to Sigr since the day she died.
And then I did something I’d never done in my life.
I prayed to Thora.
FORTY-FIVE
Those who weren’t fighting set out for Virki in two separate groups, mostly the elderly and the children. Halvard was given to Gyda, who had her baby strapped to her back. He walked behind Kerling’s horse, looking back at us as they crossed the valley. He didn’t argue, but he didn’t like it, and neither did Kerling. They wanted to fight. It blazed like an inferno on their faces.
I helped Inge prepare bandages and waited for Fiske to come, but he didn’t. And when the Riki settled down into their tents, I stood outside, waiting. The smell of the altar fire was in the air, riding on the wind across the river from the Aska camp. They were making sacrifices and asking Sigr to bless our battle.
Fiske didn’t come down the path until after dark. He stood in the tent’s opening, his face drawn and tired, watching me.
I braided my hair for war, letting it fall down my back in long woven strands. I checked all my armor and weapons one last time, and looked up from the top of my gaze to watch Fiske do the same. How many times had we both done this before, preparing to fight one another?
I pulled his hair back into a tight knot and took the kol from my saddlebag so I could rim his eyes with my thumbs. Then I sat on the cot and looked up at him so he could paint it onto me. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes as his calloused fingers dragged over my skin.
“Will it work?” I asked.
His hands stilled on me and I opened my eyes. “Yes,” he answered.
But I wasn’t as sure. I’d come close to death too many times. Whatever favor Sigr had given me was probably running out. “If I die tomorrow”—I swallowed—“you’ll take care of Iri.”
He nodded. He wasn’t going to say it wouldn’t happen because we’d both seen enough clansmen fall to know it could. “And if you don’t?”
“What do you mean?”
He looked down into my face, putting the words together in his mind before he said them. “If you go back to Hylli, I want to come with you.”
I twisted the corner of the blanket in my hands. “What about your family?”
“I’ll go where you go.” This time, the words were unyielding.
I nodded, trying to suck in a breath past the tears coming up in my throat. I didn’t want to cry. I reached for him and he came down onto his knees in front of me, between my legs, and he let out a long breath as he leaned into me. I held his weight, holding him tightly. “I didn’t want to ask you,” I said in a cracked whisper.
He set his head onto my shoulder. “You didn’t have to ask me.”
I smiled, my lips pressed to his ear. Because Fiske lived in lockstep with his heart. He did what he believed in. It was the reason he hadn’t left Iri in the trench and the reason he’d taken me home.
He climbed up onto the cot beside me and tangled his legs into mine. I pulled the blanket over us and watched him fall deep into a dream, his face relaxing and the lines that creased his forehead smoothing. I kissed him there and looked at him until my eyes were too heavy to stay open.
And then I followed him into sleep.
* * *
A distant whistle sounded and my eyes popped open. Fiske was already rolling onto his feet, rubbing his face with both of his hands and pulling his boots on. I sat up slowly, finding mine in the dark and standing so I could fit my scabbard to me. I crossed my arms over my chest, hooking my fingers over my shoulders, and let Fiske tighten the clasps. He tucked the idol of my mother inside, against my chest. I’d hoped the ache in my shoulder would be better.
The rest of the camp readied outside as I worked at his armor, checking everything twice. When my hands went back a third time, he caught them with his and waited for me to look up at him.
“Left side, near the dock.” His voice was still waking. “I’ll be there with Iri.”
I nodded. I’d been right about Vidr’s plans. He’d made Fiske head of one of the groups.
He pulled my hand up and opened my fist, pressing his lips to my palm, and the feel of him ran through me, grounding me. Then his lips found mine in the dark, soft and warm, molding against mine.
“Ǫnd eldr.” I whispered his people’s battle cry against his lips. Breathe fire.
He smiled, taking the back of my head with his hand and kissing my cheek. “Ǫnd eldr.”
We ducked out of the tent, into the predawn darkness. He squeezed my hand one last time before he took off down the path, falling in line with the other Riki headed to their places. I didn’t look back as I ran in the opposite direction, toward the Aska. Each clan had their job and if we succeeded, we’d see the Riki in Hylli.
Those of us who made it.
I came up on the line, looking for Mýra. I saw my father first and his eyes caught mine as I came to him. He leaned low to kiss me before he pushed me to my place without a word.
Mýra was already waiting for me and we checked each other’s armor again.
Her eyes dropped down to my shoulder. “How is it?”
I rolled it back on itself and it hurt. “I can use it. But it’s weak,” I admitted.
She nodded, pressing her lips together. “Then stay on my right.”
She would have to lead with her left and her left wasn’t her strong side. But I’d done as much for her in the past. It’s what we did for each other. It’s how we survived. And being back on the front line with her was like going home. A home that could never be burned or broken.
I turned toward the blackened eastern valley. We couldn’t see the forest that separated us from the Herja, but it was there. And we knew that forest. We’d been fighting in it all our lives.
I reached into my vest for the idol of my mother and my fingers hit something else. I fished it from where it was tucked against my heart and I held it out before me. A smile pulled wide at my lips, threatening tears. It was a taufr, the talismans the Riki used to protect the ones they loved. Fiske must have slipped it into my vest with the idol. The stone was smooth and black, the words etched into its surface.
Ala sál. Soul bearer.
I returned the taufr to my vest.
Mýra lifted her shield in front of her and I pulled my sword and axe free, feeling their weight at my sides. My clansmen’s prayers began and I joined them, pinning my eyes on the darkness as my heart picked up speed. Each muscle awakened around every bone, calling my body to life.
I prayed to Sigr for my father and Mýra. I prayed to Thora for Iri and Fiske.
The whistle sounded and we started at an even run. Our feet hit the ground almost in unison and we melted into the forest before us, keeping our lines as we wove in and out of the trees. As we came up on scouts, the Aska to our right cut them down, dropping them on the forest floor one at a time. We reached the other side of the forest and the stars still hung over the camp in a clear, cri
sp sky. The Herja who were keeping watch were right where we needed them to be.
We sunk low to the ground and came down the hill, spreading out around the eastern side of the camp. And we didn’t stop. We moved together like a flock of birds and I signaled to Mýra when I picked a tent. She tipped her chin in answer and followed me as I cut left. We stopped at both sides of the opening and I caught her eyes in the moonlight before I slipped inside, my feet silent on the damp ground.
There were two cots, one man and one woman. We didn’t hesitate. We each stood over a sleeping body, knives in the air, and I swallowed a breath as I pressed one hand to the Herja woman’s mouth and dragged the blade over her throat. She kicked back and I leaned into her, trapping the shriek as she writhed beneath me. I waited for her to go still.
Behind me, Mýra was already waiting at the opening.
We ran to the next tent and the other Aska darted in the dark around us. We killed seven more sleeping Herja before the first loud scream rang out in the silence. I froze, standing over the still-warm body on the cot, listening over the sounds of my breath coming fast.
Mumbling.
Something being knocked over.
The whistle. They knew we were here.
I pivoted on my heel as the camp erupted in shouting and a man sprung from the opening of the tent beside us, wielding his axe. I swung my arm over my head and let mine fly. It struck him in the shoulder and he fell to his knees before landing on his face, burying my axe.
I ran and slid in the dirt, rolling him over to retrieve it as another man came from behind us. Mýra ran him through with her sword and clicked her tongue at me. Time to go. I hopped up, digging a heel into the ground to propel me forward, back toward the forest with the Aska. My sword and axe slid into place and I ran.
The panic in the camp spread quickly behind us and the sound of shouts and clanging metal filled the air as the Herja called out orders. I jumped over a body on the ground, looking around us. Our numbers were still good. We could make it.
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