We disappeared behind the tree line and didn’t stop. We pushed toward Hylli, running with light feet over the tree roots and rocks that tangled in a maze on the forest floor. The familiar sound of Mýra’s footfalls stayed close beside me as we ran faster.
The rumble of Herja came when we reached the eastern valley. As the first morning light shined through the trees, we could see them in the distance. Coming after us.
FORTY-SIX
I pushed harder into each step and picked up my pace, pumping my arms at my sides as we flew across the valley on foot. Behind us, the Herja followed in a chaotic mass. Ahead, the Riki waited in Hylli.
Fiske and Iri waited.
I measured my breaths carefully, my eyes toward the sea. I could smell it on the wind. The smell of home. It found its way around me, driving me forward. It carried me.
The sound of the Herja grew behind us and the sword swinging from my hip was beginning to bruise my leg. But I ran faster. I pushed harder. I dug down deep and found her again. The Eelyn who had fought and survived more times than she could count.
I rooted out every memory of battle and replayed them in my mind. Iri, by my side, an axe in each hand. Mýra, running before me, a roar in her throat. I reminded myself of who I was—an Aska warrior who’d lost everything. A girl with fire in her blood. I told her to keep running.
They moved in fast, gaining on us. The scorched rooftops of Hylli came into view and a whistle echoed over the hills. The Aska cut sharply right toward the cliffs where seabirds hovered, gliding on the wind. I let my head fall back, trying to find the last of my strength to take me a little farther.
We didn’t slow. We flew toward the drop-off, where the blue sky met the rock in a hard line and the water churned white foam below. The momentum of the hour’s run carried us toward it. My clansmen disappeared over the edge in front of me as I spotted heads popping up from their places in the village. Archers. The first arrows hissed through the air, soaring over us in an arc as Mýra and I reached the cliff.
We counted our steps, throwing our weight forward as the ground slanted down in front of us, and I landed on my side, sliding down feet first with my hand dragging out behind me. My body glided over the loose rock until the cliff cut out from under us and then we were falling. The wind whipped around me and I straightened my body, my hand clamped down over my sword at my side, and I sucked in a breath, filling my lungs as the jeweled blue of the sea came closer.
I hit the water, the surface slamming into me hard. Bubbles raced up around me in wavering trails as more bodies fell into the water and I broke the surface, looking for Mýra. She drifted toward the shore, struggling to carve through the water with one arm. I kicked toward her, my lungs burning and the cold water seizing my fatigued muscles.
I broke back through to the air, pulled in every direction by the current. Mýra dragged herself onto the rocks, slumped over as more Aska slid over the cliff above and dropped into the water. In a few moments, it would be Herja coming down around us. Near the village, the dock reached out over the water and I scanned the faces, looking for Fiske and Iri. When I found them, their eyes were already on me. They stood, waiting to pick off the Herja in the water one by one. I let out a long breath at the sight of them before I ordered my thoughts back into line. The sharp corner of a rock scraped across my back as I clawed my way onto shore to where Mýra was trying to get to her feet.
“Mýra!” I called to her and she dropped to her knees, clutching her arm.
She looked up at me with a pale face. “It’s out. My arm.”
I knelt beside her, pulling the shield off and reaching beneath the armor vest to feel the bones in her shoulder. My fingers pressed until they found the soft indentation at the top of the arm and she cringed, moaning. She was right. It was dislocated. I pulled my knife free and cut the fasteners of the armor vest beneath her arm. There was no time. I yanked it over her head and she arched her back, crying out.
The Aska climbed up out of the water around us, headed toward the village. I sat back, fitting the heel of my boot into the ribs under her arm as the waves crashed around us.
I took her wrist into both hands, meeting her eyes, and waited for her nod. She sucked in a breath. “Go!”
I slowly leaned my weight back, carefully pulling the arm as she growled deep in her chest. I waited for the joint to slide back into place, keeping my grip on her tight and even. It popped and Mýra’s eyes shot open as she gasped. She looked over me, her eyes going wider.
“Eelyn!”
I let go of her, finding my knife in the sand. A Herja woman was coming toward us, her legs kicking up the water as she ran. I sprang up from the ground and threw my body into hers, taking her down under the water. She struggled against me until I shoved the knife blade into her stomach and the water turned red around us as her blood spilled out. Her body was picked up by the next wave and I looked up to see more Herja falling over the cliff, some with arrows sticking out of them. They fell into the water like boulders, arms flailing and legs kicking.
Mýra was already on her feet when I made it back to the beach. I worked fast, picking her scabbard up from the rocks before I slung it over her head and tightened it diagonally across her chest so that it held her arm in place. I shoved the sword into her other hand and we ran toward Hylli as more Herja plunged into the sea.
Another swarm of arrows soared overhead, hitting their marks behind us, and we found the smooth part of the beach that led up to the ritual house. My eyes went back to the dock. It was still covered with Riki, but I couldn’t see Fiske and Iri anymore. We moved toward the main path that led through the village and the Herja that didn’t follow us over the cliff came down the hill, just like my father had planned.
Another whistle sounded and the first line of Riki pushed toward them. They met on the slope in a loud crash and Mýra and I darted through the abandoned houses, headed for the bare ground where the ritual house once stood. The Herja would push in. And we would be there to meet them.
The sky grayed with clouds rolling in over us and I kept my eyes on Mýra. She ran with her arm pinned to her side, carrying her sword in her left hand, and when we reached our mark among the other Aska, she sunk down onto her heels, breathing through the pain.
I pushed through the bodies and came down beside her. “Alright?”
She nodded with gritted teeth. “I’m fine.”
I looked behind us, down the beach to the cove I knew lay tucked behind the rock.
When I turned back to her, she glared at me, her eyes hot as coals. “Don’t you dare say it,” she barked.
She would never forgive me for telling her to hide. I knew because I’d feel the same way. She would never retreat. Especially if I was still fighting. I pulled her up by her left arm and helped her stand beside me. She straightened, pulling in a steadying breath and steeling herself.
The Riki were tangled with the Herja on the beach. A swarm of fighting warriors covered almost every inch of ground, blades flying over heads and screams roaring up over the sound of the waves. As bodies parted, I could see the Tala, spinning around with an axe overhead. She swung, years of battle evident in the way she moved. She came over a fallen Herja and held his head up by his hair so she could slit his throat. As she stood, she flicked the blood from the blade, looking for the next one.
I held my place, waiting, and when another group of Herja came over the slope above the village, we leaned into the wind and ran for them.
I matched Mýra’s pace and found my first mark. A fair-haired Herja with the deep grooves of a sword blade etched into the silver armor on his chest. When he saw me, he locked his eyes on mine, adjusting his course to collide with me. I ran straight for him, grunting as my feet hit the ground and then I pivoted, letting my axe swing over my head to propel me to the side. My feet lifted off the ground and I curled my arms in, the blade finding his hip, and then I hit the ground and rolled.
A boot caught me in the shoulder and I cried out. When I
spotted him, he was lying on his back with his arms out to his sides, looking at the sky as feet ran past. I came over him, pulling my axe from his flesh, and the blood ran freely, pulling the light from his eyes.
Mýra freed her sword from a body nearby, hobbling with her right side sinking. Two more warriors were headed for us. I took the shield off a body on the ground and sank into my heels, lifting my axe. I waited for the first woman to come close and crouched, toppling her. She flew over the shield and I swung my arm, my axe driving into her back.
Mýra was on the ground below the other Herja. He was about to bring his sword down on her.
“No!” The panic ignited in me like the earth breaking open under us.
I jumped over the woman bleeding out on the ground and dropped the shield on top of Mýra. She curled up under it and I turned to face the Herja. His sword came down between us and I lifted my axe to stop it. It caught the blade with a force that made my axe slip through my fingers, falling to the ground beside me.
The knife in his other hand swiped toward me and I tried to slide back, but the blade cut into my side, below my ribs. I looked up from the blood pouring out from beneath my vest and took my arms out wide, tackling him at the waist. We rolled until the sword left his hand. When I fell onto my back, Mýra was standing over us with the shield. She lifted it up and brought it down on the man’s head with a guttural scream. His bones crunched beneath the weight of it and his body went limp next to me before I crawled to my axe.
The warriors left standing were headed to the beach, where the last group of the Herja were pinned on the rocks between the village and the water. We headed toward them. I ignored the sting at my side, the blood pumping through my body so hard that I could barely feel it. Mýra took the first Herja in our way and I took the second, my eyes landing on the water, where bodies were floating, knocking into each other in an ocean of red.
Aska. Herja. A tall, broad Riki with dark hair pulled back into an unraveling knot.
The howling wind of a hole opened up inside of me and I ran into the water, grasping hold of the body and turning it over. But it wasn’t him.
I reached for another.
And another.
My heart stopped beating in my chest and I forgot the sound of the fighting around me. I forgot the smell of blood soaked into my armor. I searched frantically, turning bodies over in the water around me until a sob broke from my chest.
Mýra pushed her way toward me.
“I can’t find him,” I stammered. A Herja came into view behind her and I wiped at my face to clear my vision. “Down!”
She obeyed and I pulled the knife from my belt and threw it. The blade sank into his neck. I pushed through the water and left him clutching at his throat.
“Eelyn!”
I heard his voice and everything stopped. The water. The fighting. The wind. I looked to the beach, trying to find him, but saw Iri first. He brought his axe down in an arc, landing on a Herja on the beach.
“Eelyn!”
And then I found him. Fiske stood at the water’s edge, looking at me, his chest heaving up and down. His sword hung at his side heavily, the glittering red of wet Herja blood dripping from its edge. His eyes met mine and my sword sank to my side in the water. My body suddenly felt weak. Heavy. The relief unwound every straining, aching muscle. And then his eyes changed. His lips parted, his face twisting. And I knew that look. I remembered it. From the day we saw Halvard tied to the horse, blood running from his nose.
The weight of a body crashed into me, knocking me off my feet, and my sword sank to the sea floor. I was underwater, sunlight breaking through the clouds and lighting the red water like a pink veil around me. Legs appeared beside me and hands plunged down, taking hold of my throat and squeezing. The bubbles erupted around me as I screamed. The man was a blurry outline above the surface, his face gnarled up, teeth bared. I thrashed beneath his weight, kicking, trying to find a foothold. But there was none. The sand and rocks shifted beneath me, giving way as my fingers clawed at his arms. I could feel myself growing weaker.
I writhed, trying to slip free, but the Herja was too strong. His hold was too tight. And when I stopped moving, I watched my hands float up in front of my face, my hair lifting in golden streaks before my eyes. The thoughts slowly left my mind, my face relaxing, and I set my gaze on the sky, past the man’s face, as the cold seawater poured into my lungs.
The sunlight gleamed on his silver armor and the bright light widened and grew until it was everything. It swallowed me.
Something rocked me in the water, and the hands unclenched, leaving me. I blinked slowly, and the man was gone. There was nothing but wavering sky. I came up out of the water and I could see his face. Fiske. The square line of his jaw widened as he shouted, looking into my face. I couldn’t hear him.
And then the water rushed up out of me, the salt burning in my chest and throat. He pulled me to him, and the sound came back. The water, the village, the warriors. He lifted me up, with both arms around the middle of me as I coughed, choking. I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding on so tightly that the wound at my side seared with pain.
He let go of me, his hands coming to my face, turning it from side to side. They moved down my arms, checking my skin. He looked over me carefully until he found the gash below my ribs. I hissed as he spread the skin to see how deep it was.
“I’m alright,” I panted, pulling him back to me.
He pushed his palm into it firmly, and my blood spilled out between his fingers. “You’re alright.” He repeated the words, almost to himself.
I pressed my cheek to his, trying to catch my breath, and his other arm lifted me up. We pushed through the water toward the beach. Mýra was making her way toward us from the side, a gash on her forehead bleeding freely. Behind her, Iri stood on the rocks and the final whistle sounded. The one that signaled it was over.
I looked at the village. My village.
It sat crippled on the shore. Lifeless bodies littered the paths and floated in the sea around us. But Hylli still stood, filled with the Aska and Riki left standing.
FORTY-SEVEN
I took Runa’s dark, shining hair into my hands, combing through it with my fingers. She sat, looking into the fire in Inge’s home, and when a single tear fell slowly down her cheek, she wiped it with the hem of her skirt.
It had only been five weeks since her mother died in the battle in Hylli. I knew what it was to lose a mother. And I knew what it was to find one again. I looked up to where Inge sat across from us, weaving a crown of early spring wildflowers for Runa’s head.
The journey back from Hylli had been a long one. When the fighting was over, we went back to the Herja camp where the captured Aska and Riki were waiting. We brought the wounded Riki back up the mountain and those that couldn’t be moved stayed in Hylli under the care of the only two Aska healers left. But the thaw had come a week early, and as soon as the snow began to melt, Runa said she didn’t want to wait to have the wedding.
I wound the intricate braids up on top of her head and Inge fit the crown over them, yellow and white blooms floating up above her like butterflies. She wore the dress her mother was married in, a pale blue wool with golden trim. She looked like a goddess, standing against the snow-covered mountain in the meadow.
The pain settled deeply into her eyes was matched by the love that also lived there. She looked up at Iri as they stood together before the Tala and recited the sacred words, with the Riki watching. Fiske stood beside me smiling and when he caught me staring at him, he leaned into me, his hip against mine making my long skirt sway around my ankles. The black dress I’d worn to Adalgildi covered almost all my healing wounds and scars, but it didn’t erase them.
We followed the procession back to the ritual house and feasted, but this time my father and I sat with Inge’s family. Iri’s hand found mine under the table as he leaned over to kiss me softly behind my ear.
I remembered the way he looked, lying with eyes
staring into the sky that day I’d left him in the trench in Aurvanger. The broken boy bleeding in the snow beside my brother. I wondered if the gods had a plan then. I’d thought about it almost every moment since it first struck me, standing in the sea after the battle in Hylli. That if Iri and Fiske hadn’t found each other on the battlefield that day five years ago, he would never have been left. He would never have been found or loved by the Riki. He would never have joined them and I would never have seen him that night. I would never have been taken prisoner or been there when the Herja came. The Aska never would have joined with their enemies. We would all be dead or surviving on the fringes of what was once our lives.
And it wasn’t because of me. I wasn’t special. But Iri was.
My throat tightened, watching him hold Runa’s little brother in the ritual house. Her siblings would now be Iri and Runa’s responsibility. And just like Inge had become a mother to Iri, Iri would become a father to them. It was all too much for my heart to hold. It was still finding a home within me, replacing what had once held only hate for the Riki.
And now my heart belonged to them. In so many ways.
* * *
The water in the fjord transformed into a brilliant blue, like it knew we were coming home. But the image of the gleaming red water in battle was still seared into my mind.
Inge and I each held a side of the door while Fiske set it on its hinges.
When we told her that Fiske was coming with me to Hylli, she laughed and said she’d known long before we did. But the smile on her face was heartbroken and lonely. It was months before she agreed to come with Halvard and live on the fjord with us. The Aska from other villages went back home, leaving Hylli bare and without a healer. Before the next winter fell over Thora’s mountain, one Riki in Hylli became three.
Inge had watched the house grow smaller behind us as we set out on the trail. We traveled down the mountain and I could feel everything still undone between Iri and me. It would take maybe the rest of our lives to understand what had happened. But maybe we had time now.
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