Teeth (The Icefjord Saga #1)

by Zaya Feli

  Karel shook his head. No. He refused to finish the thought. He had a plan and a goal and he'd follow the plan to reach the goal no matter what. He stood, distancing himself from the sleeping boy. Ylva would wake up and Torvald would praise Karel for his intelligence and bravery. Karel would earn his name. He'd make his father proud if it was the last thing he did. Turning away, Karel drew his cloak around himself against the cold and headed in the direction of the Fenrisborg camp.

  * * *

  Pounding. Throbbing. Aching.

  Pain was the first thing Isa felt, even before he was fully awake. He stayed still, tried to swallow but found his throat was too dry. Fuck, his head hurt. What a wild night. He dragged his tongue across his teeth and felt it stick. His neck was stiff and his hand prickled uncomfortably from having been squeezed between his side and something hard. A tree root, it turned out – he was on the ground, not a sleeping mat, and there was a tree behind him.

  He rubbed his eyes, letting out a breath. Some tea would be nice. He shook out his hand and stretched his toes. His calf cramped and he groaned, turning his face into the blanket he couldn't remember draping over himself. Where was Skygge? With Rakki, he remembered. He'd left her with Rakki. That put his mind at ease. Rakki had never been to a Great Sacrifice before, and Isa had seen first-timers cut loose so much they nearly killed themselves. Not that he was one to talk, apparently. He felt half dead.

  Isa leaned his head against the tree. He lay for a little while with his eyes closed and listened to the sounds of the waking camp. People talking. Animals. He could feel the morning sun's weak rays on his legs, warming them slowly.

  Footsteps approached; rough hands grabbed him by the elbows and pulled him upright.

  Isa yelped, squinting against the harsh sunlight, vision blurry until a pair of angry faces came into focus. “What the fuck?”

  “Get up!” one of the men barked, pulling Isa up. “On your feet!”

  Isa panted, mind and body struggling to prepare for a fight. His heart pounded in time with his head and he grabbed for his belt until he remembered he wasn't carrying his axe. The men twisted Isa's arms behind his back and Isa stomped the heel of his boot onto the right man's toes, making him yelp. Isa managed to twist free of his grasp, but the other man tightened his hold, yanking Isa off balance.

  “Stop struggling, boy!” the man on the left snarled, pulling Isa against his chest.

  People around them stopped what they were doing and stared.

  “Care to tell me what the fuck is going on?” Isa snarled, or tried to. His head was spinning.

  “You're being accused of a crime,” the first man said. He was an ugly, bald fucker. He rubbed his foot before limping back over to grab Isa by the other arm.

  Isa gawked. “What crime?” He reviewed the previous night's events in his mind. They'd been at the temple. Watched the sacrifices. Eaten and drunk. Karel had joined them and passed around mushrooms. After that, Isa's memories were hazy. He'd spoken to Rakki, or maybe Karel. One of them; they'd been down by the water. That was all. He hadn't done anything wrong.

  “If you come with us, you'll find out,” the bald man hissed in his ear, shoving him forward.

  Isa gave up resisting and let them drag him deeper into the camp. All around them, people gawked. Isa avoided their eyes.

  They reached a group of people gathered near the Ulfheim camp. The men let go of Isa's arms. Isa steadied himself and tilted his chin up to scan the crowd.

  Eskal pushed through the group and Isa nearly choked on his own tongue, but schooled himself, jaw clenching. “You again. You've got to be kidding me. Do tell me what I did this time.”

  Eskal regarded him coolly, arms folded over his chest. Behind him stood Torsten, Steinar, Alma, Karel, and a few more people Isa didn't recognize.

  “You're accused of breaking the peace of the Great Sacrifice,” Eskal said, unable to hide the smugness in his tone. “You've broken one of our most vital rules.”

  Whispers swept through the gathering crowd. They formed a circle around Isa, watching him like he was a caged wolf.

  Isa copied Eskal's posture. “Oh, did I eat too much chicken for dinner?”

  People laughed here and there, but Eskal silenced them with a glare. He stepped forward, gesturing for the people behind him to do the same. Isa frowned. Three men and a woman stepped up alongside Eskal, staring at Isa with accusing eyes. He didn't recognize any of them.

  Eskal went on. “You attacked Ravsø travellers during their sacred journey to Jættedahl.”

  Isa stared at him, wishing he could have faced Eskal and his accusers with a clear head. Not that it mattered, since they had nothing on him. “That was you,” he said slowly, his smile fuelled by disbelief. “You can't blame me for your bad decisions, no matter how much you hate me.” He spread his arms wide. “By all means, prove your accusations.”

  Eskal pointed at the people around him. “These four were present during the attack. They saw you cut down Ravsø villagers before they escaped.”

  Isa's jaw fell open. He'd seen a ship – after the attack on Ravsø, a single ship had managed to escape. They'd come here to get justice for the attack on their people and now Eskal was trying to push the blame on him. It was suddenly infuriatingly clear. “You were there, too. You killed Ravsø villagers. You led the attack, Jarl Eskal.”

  “But you started it,” Eskal said, stabbing a finger at Isa. “Forcing me to defend my own people and cut down good Ravsø citizens. What else should I have thought, when they made land at Tornlund, other than that they were coming for revenge? You turned me into a killer, Isarin.” Twisting around, he waved to Alma. “Come forward.”

  Isa looked at Alma. She wrung her hands and wouldn't meet his eyes. She was tall and broad-shouldered, but at that moment, she looked like a child. She took a reluctant step forward.

  “Hold up your hand, Alma,” Eskal said.

  She held a rune pressed against her palm. Laguz. Truth.

  “Did Isa not confide in you that he travelled to Ravsø and killed a man?” Eskal asked.

  Alma's eyes darted to Isa. She mouthed an apology before saying, “He did.”

  “In the dead of night.”

  “Yes.”

  “And told no one except for you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, you piece of sow shit!” Isa clenched his jaw. “That is not the whole truth. The man I killed attacked me. He—”

  “And yet.” Eskal raised his voice over Isa's. “It is the truth. Thank you, Alma.” He gave her a smile before turning back to Isa. “You journeyed to Ravsø, a village that was not our enemy, and killed a man in the dead of night, starting a conflict between our villages that led to the battle I did not wish to happen.”

  “That's not true!” Isa shouted. He tried to move, but the two men gripped his arms and held him back. “You led the attack! Take Laguz yourself, you coward! You wanted their ships. You’re so blinded by power that you didn’t even care to find Hjalmar’s murderer, you fucking—”

  Eskal's voice carried over the crowd. “Isa is marked by the curse of the Varg. His curse has caused havoc in Ulfheim.”

  The forest fell into eerie silence. Isa stared at Eskal, for once at a loss for words. He swayed, head pounding like he'd been kicked by a horse. The curse was a secret. Hjalmar had made it so, and everyone in Ulfheim knew to keep quiet. Now all of the Icefjord knew. Isa's stomach twisted in a way that had nothing to do with the previous night's mead and ale.

  “He's a stain on our reputation,” Eskal continued. “We've tried to control him, but to no avail. He opened the Ulfheim ward and let the Varg into our village six years ago. He never paid for his transgressions thanks to my father's soft heart.”

  Isa's eyes widened. He hadn't told anyone about that. Except... He looked at Alma. She stood with her head lowered, hands clenched into fists.

  “His powers as a Runik keep me from condemning him to death or exile, but he needs to atone for what he's done, both now and in
the past.”

  Isa looked at the people around him. They watched him with caution, some nodding at Eskal's words. Isa saw Rakkian elbowing his way to the front of the crowd. He stared at Isa, chest heaving. Skygge was perched on his shoulder, but when she saw Isa, she flew over to land at his feet and caw at Eskal with her neck feathers raised.

  “We'll sever a finger on each hand, two toes on each foot, and the shell of one ear as payment for what he did to these poor people's families,” Eskal said, gesturing to the Ravsø villagers. “Is my judgement satisfactory?”

  “Aye,” the Ravsø woman said, and the men nodded.

  Eskal raised his voice again. “Do we all agree?”

  The crowd murmured assent and Skygge cawed again as if to scold them.

  Isa reeled. How could this happen? Eskal's case was weak. He had no proof, yet he'd somehow turned all of Jættedahl against Isa in the span of a few breaths.

  Isa saw Rakkian try to approach, but the men who'd dragged Isa to judgement blocked Isa's line of sight and grabbed him by the arms, dragging him towards a large tent with the sides rolled up. Someone had fetched a low table from the temple and they hauled Isa up to lay him on his back.

  Isa's heart pounded against his ribs, and this time it really did feel like his stomach would empty itself. “You're wrong. Let me go! Just listen,” he snarled, kicking at the hands that held him. He freed one arm and planted his fist in the face of the nearest man. The table nearly toppled as Isa struggled, but the bald man wrapped his hands around Isa's throat and forced him back onto its surface.

  “Stop! This is madness! You haven't let me speak. I deserve to speak!” Isa forced himself upright. Eskal stood in front of him with an axe in his hands, light reflecting off its newly sharpened blade. The sight made all Isa's muscles tense involuntarily.

  Strength surged in Isa, the instinct to protect himself manifesting as power that rippled through his body. Unprompted, his mind sought out Sjaelir. They lit up around him like beacons: potential solutions to the pain he was about to endure. Some of them were guarded by Fehu, but not all. He could stop this. He could...

  No.

  Jættedahl was a sacred place. There were nearly as many Runiks here as Sjaelir. If he fought back, it would be all over. A dead Runik was better than a rogue one.

  “Are you going to accept our verdict, little Isa?” Eskal came forward and Isa closed his eyes. They were just fingers and toes. One ear, not both. He'd live. He'd live and he'd get revenge on Eskal. He'd make Eskal wish he'd killed him instead.

  Isa opened his eyes.

  Something passed between them and for a second, Isa thought he saw something in Eskal's eyes. Uncertainty. Fear? No, Isa wouldn't go that far.

  A tight grip on his wrist brought Isa back to reality. The bald man uncurled Isa's fist and straightened out his ring finger, pushing a stone block underneath. Isa thrashed, but the man's hold was like an iron manacle.

  “Stop!”

  Isa twisted his head to the side. Rakkian stood near the edge of the tent, face pale. He started towards them, but Alma threw her arm across his chest and held him back. Isa tried to school his expression to blankness. Maybe it was a ridiculous thought at the moment, but he didn't want Rakkian to know he was afraid.

  A clang of metal against rock announced a blinding pain. Isa cried out, then stopped the sound in his throat, twisting away. The table rocked and hands pressed him back down. I wasn't ready. Almost instantly, his hand went numb, pain replaced by a hot, throbbing sensation that crawled up his arm. Isa closed his eyes and tried to cling to the numbness, to force it to last, but the pain was already returning. He dropped his head back against the table with a thump, sucking a deep breath between clenched teeth. The cold air chilled his lungs.

  That was one. One finger, four toes, and an ear to go. Focus, Isa. Don't shame yourself. Not in front of Eskal. Fuck, he wouldn't give that asshole the satisfaction. He swallowed against the bile rising in his throat. A rough bandage against his exposed bone sent a tremble he couldn't control through his arm.

  The block scraped against the table as they moved it to his other side. One more finger. The fingers had to be the worst, right? The rest he could handle. The rest would be easier. The curse on his shoulder ached and burned from his strained muscles.

  Isa pulled back his tongue and clenched his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Nothing happened.

  Still nothing.

  What the fuck was taking so long?

  Isa opened his eyes to demand an answer to his unspoken question, but the words died on his tongue. Everyone was quiet: the crowd, his captors, even Eskal.

  Then Isa heard it too. Deep, echoing howls – the first distant, the next much closer. Another joined in, nearer still, until it sounded like they were right at the edges of the camp.

  Isa looked at Eskal, who turned to the others. Drawing his wounded hand protectively against his chest, Isa sat up. The howls were coming from all around, now. Circling them.

  “What the fuck?” Eskal murmured.

  Isa looked around, but he couldn't see past the gathered spectators. Fear ebbed higher, mixing with pain and nausea to make him light-headed. He made a choked sound as he let go of his injured hand and gripped the edge of the table. Wolves. Why did it have to be wolves?

  Steinar stepped from the crowd, raising his hands. “The wolves are hunting. They won't attack people.” He looked at Isa. “Do you need a break, son?”

  Isa opened his mouth, but what he meant to say was drowned out by a blood-curdling scream.

  The ring of onlookers broke as people stumbled and pushed, revealing a sight that sent a shudder of fear and revulsion through Isa. A man lay on the ground, his face gone – gnawed off by the wolf that stood above him, teeth red with blood. It raised its head and howled.

  Steinar strode forward, yanking the axe from Eskal's hand and throwing it, but the wolf was fast. It crouched so the axe flew over its head and hit a tree, then sprang towards Steinar with the speed of an arrow and leapt for his throat. Steinar raised an arm and the wolf knocked him to the ground with the force of its strike. A second wolf appeared and latched onto Steinar's shoulder; he cried out, trying to pry their jaws from his flesh.

  Isa couldn't take his eyes off the gruesome sight. Steinar was the strongest man he knew. He couldn't lose a fight.

  Isa tore his eyes away, but he could still hear the sounds. Growls, tearing muscle, squelching blood.

  Isa panted, heart in his throat. There were wolves everywhere. They flooded the camp, latching onto arms and legs and pulling people to the ground until screams mixed with the howls of the wolves still circling the camp. Isa had to get away. He had to—

  One of the wolves savaging Steinar paused and looked up. For one heart-stopping second, it locked gazes with Isa, its raging yellow eyes boring into his. Then it turned to Eskal and snarled. It leapt for him but fell with an arrow sprouting from its side. Karel stood near the tent, nocking another arrow as the remaining wolf left Steinar in favour of the new threat. Karel's second arrow found its mark as swiftly as the first. It spurred Isa into motion and he stumbled away from the table, the world spinning around him. He gasped, shaking his head to clear it. He had to seek safety.

  “The ships!” someone shouted. The fleeing people changed directions and Isa turned, trying to keep up with the crowd running for the piers. Their weapons were on the ships. In honour of the Great Sacrifice, hardly anyone carried weapons in Jættedahl.

  Stupid. So fucking stupid.

  “Skygge!” Isa shouted, throat raw. He spun, searching the branches overhead. Where was she? To his left, a wolf caught up with a running woman, dragging her down and locking its jaws around her neck. Isa flung himself into cover behind a tree, his heel catching on a root as he moved. Falling, he landed on his back on the uneven ground. He groaned, pain radiating from his hand, but he couldn't afford to think about it. Where the fuck was Rakkian? Where was Alma?

 
Isa staggered to his feet, hand clutched against his chest. He turned, searching for anyone he recognized. Instead, his frantic gaze landed on a wolf.

  Isa froze. The wolf stood completely still, staring at him with unblinking yellow eyes. Its coat was the color of snow. It took a step forward and Isa backed away until he hit the tree. He fumbled at his empty belt, making the buckles clink.

  Where are the gods? Why would they let this happen?

  Isa clenched his uninjured hand into a fist. “Kill me, then! Do it, you fucking coward!” he shouted, voice breaking.

  An arrow struck the white wolf in the shoulder and it yelped. Isa turned to see Karel nocking another arrow. He hesitated and Isa looked back. The wolf was gone.

  “Are you all right?” Karel ran to him, sticking the arrow down the side of his trousers. His eyes darted to the bloodstained bandage around Isa's hand and he changed his question. “Did the wolves get you?”

  Isa shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. He took a breath to try. Instead, his stomach cramped and he doubled over, emptying it on the forest floor. He heaved, stumbling, and retched until there was nothing left and dark spots danced at the edges of his vision. When he straightened shakily, Karel had taken several steps back.

  “Have you seen Rakkian?” Isa asked, coughing against the burn in his throat. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this miserable.