Teeth (The Icefjord Saga #1)

by Zaya Feli

  Isa's raven dove into the arrow's path with an shriek. The force of the impact sent the bird spiralling through the air to land at the Varg's feet. Behind Karel, the platform creaked as Isa writhed, his cry making Karel's ears ring.

  The Varg stopped, paws slipping on the sodden ground. It lowered its head to sniff the raven.

  “No!” The heavy table rocked when Isa threw himself against the chains. “Don't touch her!”

  The Varg paid Isa no mind. It closed its teeth around the shaft of the arrow and pulled; the freed arrow broke between its teeth like a twig. It raised its head and snarled, eyes fixed on Eskal.

  Another arrow struck the Varg in the neck and it looked up. The next hit its shoulder. The beast growled and launched itself towards the platform, but a third arrow through its front leg sent it to the ground, its heavy body sliding through the mud into the platform's supports with so much force the wood cracked.

  Torsten nocked another arrow.

  Karel lunged forward, closing a hand around his wrist. “Don't kill it. Don't—”

  Torsten's face shifted from concentration to surprise.

  Karel turned. On the ground where the Varg had been lay a young man. He was naked, bleeding, and covered in mud. Karel wouldn't have recognized him if not for the curls that shone like gold against the grey mud.

  Rakkian, the western boy.

  It made no sense. Karel had been so sure... “Get him inside,” he said, before Eskal could decide to execute Rakkian like he'd been about to do to Isa. “Both of them. Now!” he added. Most of the people around him were too shocked to process what had happened, but it seemed Karel's voice carried enough authority to break them from their trance.

  Karel tapped the handle of his axe against Eskal's elbow. “We need to talk,” Karel said, drawing Eskal from his shocked state, He hoped he could rein in the situation to a point where he could control it.

  * * *

  Isa lay curled under blankets in the darkness of his hut when the door opened. The sound of several pairs of footsteps was replaced by Torsten's voice, gentler than Isa had heard it before.

  “Come on, son. The seer is here.”

  Isa didn't move. His muscles trembled, though not from the cold. He couldn't seem to stop.

  His hand ached where his finger had been severed. His head throbbed just as much, but for a different reason. He couldn't make sense of anything. He carried the Varg's curse on his body. Karel had said he had the creature itself inside him, but the Varg had burst free from Rakkian, not him. How? The sunken ships, the Jættedahl attack… He remembered reaching out with his magic when he was strapped to the platform in the gods’ circle, searching for anything that could help him. What he'd found had filled him with terror.

  “Isa.” Torsten wrapped a hand around his arm and pulled him upright.

  Isa didn't resist when Torsten draped a blanket around his shoulders. Kjartan was there, too, wringing his hands nervously.

  “Is Skygge still with Ingrid?” Isa asked, trying to catch Torsten's eyes as they walked outside, the edges of his blanket dragging through the mud. It was dark again. He must have lain in bed all day, but he could hardly recall the passing of time, despite not having slept.

  “Ingrid's taking good care of her, I'm sure,” Torsten said.

  A caw made Isa look up. A raven sat on the edge of the jarl's hall and another in a nearby tree. Neither was Skygge, but Isa felt their eyes on him as he followed Torsten and Kjartan into the light of the jarl's hall.

  Eskal sat in his chair at the end of the hall with his arms crossed, but for once, he had no sharp words for Isa. He had enough respect to keep his eyes downcast.

  A few others were in the hall. Jari, Signy. Karel, too, and Isa wasn't sure whether to thank him or punch him in the face. None of them looked at him, their attention on the double doors as they swung open behind Isa and a hooded figure stepped in.

  The seer supported herself with a walking stick, its surface beneath her bony fingers delicately carved. When she drew her hood back, her braided white hair fell around her face and revealed bits of bone and tiny skulls of mice and birds holding the weavings together. Her face was wrinkled and her right eye milky white, although she still seemed to see straight into Isa's soul when she looked at him. Isa bowed his head.

  The seer didn't speak until she reached him and placed a hand on his shoulder, her grip surprisingly strong. She studied his face, then turned away from him. “I've seen the Varg's vessel.” Her voice was nothing but a hoarse whisper. The hall was silent as everyone strained to hear. “Who would have thought so soft and small a boy could be a beast so terrifyingly massive.”

  “Be a beast?” Eskal leaned forward, hand braced against the lion armrest of his chair. “What does that mean?”

  The seer drew a parcel from inside her cloak and set it on the bench by the fire, unfolding it. Several curved blades glittered in the light. “The boy and the god have shared a body so long as to become two threads in a single cloth.”

  Karel made a soft sound that caused both Isa and the seer to turn their heads. He averted his eyes, retreating into the shadows.

  “You are right to be wary of this young man,” the seer said, pointing at Isa.

  Isa swallowed, folding a hand over his chest. “You've told me all my life the curse was no danger to anyone but me.” Gasps echoed through the hall and Isa flinched. “Most respected seer,” he added quickly.

  She didn't seem fazed by his attitude, but turned her misty eyes on him. “I was wrong,” she said plainly. “It is not a curse, but a gateway that opened when you touched the vessel.” She looked at Jari. “I need a sacrifice.”

  “A gateway?” Eskal asked. He'd stepped off the dais and waved at Jari, who darted for the doors.

  The seer looked at Isa. “Your clothes.”

  Isa tugged his shirt over his head, standing bare-chested in the light of the fire. He didn't need to look at the mark to know it had grown, crawling over his shoulder and down his chest. So close to his heart. He looked anyway and wished he hadn't.

  The seer reached out, but stopped with her hand an inch from his chest. “The Varg made a grave mistake,” she said, the crackling of the burning logs mixing with her voice. “Weak and dying, it sought the only refuge available to it: the body of a Sjaelir boy already offering it his power.”

  Isa's eyes widened. The attack six years ago returned to him in a flash. Rakkian thought he'd stumbled upon a dog. He'd tried to help it the same way he'd helped Skygge. Digging through the fragile section of the ward must have weakened the Varg – Isa remembered how it had looked, curled up and panting in the form of a dog in the leaf litter. His knife through its ribs might have really killed it, if it hadn't been for Rakkian. A flow of energy from Rakkian's soul to the Varg. An irresistible invitation.

  “How was that a mistake for the Varg?” Isa asked, voice rough. “If it saved its life...”

  “The boy's body became its prison. The mark it left on you was its saving grace.” The seer's gaze weighed on Isa's, making him feel out of breath. “A Runik, channelling the power of a Sjaelir out into the world. All the Varg had to do was to let its own energy follow.”

  “Fuck,” Isa spat. It had been his fault after all. He'd given the beast exactly what it wanted. Remembering himself, Isa bowed his head. His voice shook. “Apologies.”

  “No,” the seer sighed, tilting his head up with two cold fingers. “The gods have not been kind to you, Isarin Eiriksson.” She shook her head. “So long as the Varg has a door to freedom, it cannot be stopped.”

  “What do we do?” Eskal asked, shaking Isa from the darkness that threatened to creep towards the centre of his vision. His voice was hard and his expression grim. He looked just as tired as the others. Signy hadn't said a word. She stood next to Eskal's chair, sadness shining in her eyes.

  Jari returned, arms wrapped around a chicken. The seer gestured to him and Jari placed the chicken on a bench, sliding his axe from his belt and severing its
head in a clean cut. The seer pointed to a bowl and Jari let the dark blood flow into it.

  “We close the door,” she said finally, bones cracking as she rolled her head from side to side.

  Isa opened his mouth to ask what does that mean for me? but stopped himself. It didn't matter. The Varg remained dangerous so long as the gateway was open – whether that meant killing him or not, Isa had no choice.

  The seer reached for the pouches dangling from her belt and added ingredients to the bowl of chicken blood. She murmured spells in the old language. Some of the words, Isa recognized: the names of runes and words of warding and protection. He closed his eyes. This was all his fault. If he hadn't opened the ward and sealed it wrong, the Varg would have never come through. He wouldn't have destroyed Rakkian's soul. He wouldn't have killed that poor woman's husband. And Steinar. Fuck. Steinar.

  The strange static energy between him and Rakkian made sense now, the rush of power mixed with pain when he touched Rakkian's skin. In his mind's eye, he saw the Varg greedily clawing its way from Rakkian to him, to the gateway. When Isa had used Rakkian's energy, he'd only helped it.

  Isa opened his eyes again to find the seer holding a blade under his nose. He flinched instinctively, but forced himself to stay where he was.

  Jari leaned closer, but Eskal grabbed the boy by the arm and pulled him back. Signy turned her face away. Only Karel remained unmoving in the shadows, watching.

  Bringing the blade to Isa's arm, the seer opened the old bleeding-cut there. Blood welled to the surface and spilled thickly into the bowl. She handed him a cloth and Isa wrapped it around his arm as she stirred the bowl. She dipped two fingers in the concoction of blood and ground herbs to draw a border around the edges of the curse and trace runes over his heart. Sowilo. Nauthiz. Ansuz, rune of the gods.

  “Can you carve these runes?” the seer asked, looking at Eskal.

  Eskal nodded.

  “You must carve power into the path of the blood to seal the gateway.”

  “Lie down,” Eskal said to Isa, accepting the seer's blade.

  “First, drink this.” The seer handed Isa the bowl.

  Isa swallowed, bracing himself. He brought the bowl to his lips and tipped his head back. The taste of blood was one he could handle, but whatever else the seer had added to the mix was hard to get down. It clung to the inside of his mouth, thickening the blood so it felt like a creature trying to claw its way back up his throat. He groaned when he lowered the bowl, swallowing convulsively against the way his stomach tried to force it back up. Then he closed his eyes and sat on the narrow bench. It wobbled when he lay back, digging into his spine and his right shoulder blade. He focused on that nagging discomfort instead of the bite of the blade on his chest.

  * * *

  Isa staggered from the jarl's hall, one hand on the bandages around his chest and shoulder. The icy rain dulled some of the pain, although it quickly served to make his muscles tremble instead.

  He'd promised he'd go straight to his hut to sleep, but he had somewhere else to be first. Not that any of them cared much for his well-being, so Isa couldn't feel all that guilty about defying Eskal's orders. He was tired enough that the mud by the side of the road seemed as good a bed as any, but he forced himself onwards until he reached Ingrid's hut near the forest's edge. He knocked on the door and ended up leaning against it on the final knock. When Ingrid opened the door, Isa all but fell into her arms.

  “Isa! Are you hurt?” Ingrid's voice was full of concern and the bit of genuine affection in her tone was almost enough to make him cry. Ingrid was always nice to everybody – even him.

  “Not hurt. Just tired,” Isa said, cringing at how rough his voice sounded.

  “Come in. I figured you'd be back for her tonight.” Ingrid wrapped a gentle arm around Isa's shoulders, sliding it lower when she noticed the way he winced at her touch.

  “How is she?” Isa asked, searching for a little black bundle. He found Skygge wrapped in blankets by the fire with a bowl of water and another of meat untouched beside her head.

  “I've healed her wounds, but she's very weak, Isa. I can't get her to drink or eat. I was hoping she might perk up once she saw you.”

  “Hi, girl,” Isa whispered, sitting next to her. She didn't raise her head when he stroked a gentle hand down the fire-warmed feathers of her back. “It's okay now. I'm here.” He took a small lump of the meat and held it against the side of her beak. “Come on, Skygge.”

  She blinked slowly, focused one beady eye on him, and closed it.

  Isa bit his lip. “What's wrong with her?”

  Ingrid sighed. She sat opposite Isa, crossing her legs. “I can heal her wounds, but I can't give her back the strength she's lost. That's up to her. And you.” She reached out to give his arm a squeeze.

  Isa looked down, brow furrowing. “You don't mind touching me? After all the darkness I've let out into the world?” He swallowed against the lump in his throat.

  “You were born with your mother's heart, Isa, and she was brave and kind. I saw it so clearly in you when you were a child. You and everyone else believe that heart is gone, but it isn't.”

  “I don't know how to save Skygge.” The words came out shaky and rough and Isa wiped a hand over his mouth to steady himself.

  “Keep her warm.” Ingrid rose to her feet. “And keep offering her food and water.”

  “I will.” Isa slid his hands underneath Skygge's small body, wrapping the blanket around her and bringing her to his chest. She was asleep again, beak buried under her wing.

  He carried her back to his hut, lit a candle, and started a fire in the hearth to keep them both warm. He held her under his coat until heat filled the small space. Then he undressed, crawled under the blankets, and placed her over his heart. His chest and hand still ached, but they hardly seemed important.

  Isa didn't sleep. He watched Skygge, an anxious part of his mind demanding he check every few moments to see if she was still breathing. Isa didn't know what he'd do without her. She was his only friend – his true family. Skygge had never been anything other than his best friend. She'd never lied to him. Never let him down.

  The Varg was alive.

  In his head, Isa played through all the moments he'd spent with Rakkian. Alone in the forest by the tree, sitting together on the bridge. Their talks in his hut. In the temple. That had all been the Varg staring back at him, every time, waiting for its next chance to use him. He'd taken Rakkian's hand in the temple and felt its power rush through him. The thought of it sent shivers down his back. He'd been so close to the creature this entire time and hadn't even known it.

  He tried to get Skygge to drink, but by the time the sun rose, she'd still barely raised her head.

  A knock made Isa jump and he placed his hands protectively over Skygge before letting out a breath. “Come in.”

  The door opened and Alma poked her head in, hurrying to close it when Isa gestured her inside.

  “How is she?” Alma asked.

  Isa looked down. “Not well.”

  “Isa...what happened in Jættedahl—”

  “It wasn't your fault,” he said, hearing how tired he sounded. “I should have known Eskal would use anything to get to me.”

  She sighed. “He forced me to take Laguz and questioned me about you. When I didn't answer, he knew he only had to push. He threatened me. Isa, I'm so sorry. Your hand—”

  “I'll be fine.”

  “Did you sleep at all?”

  “No.”

  She pulled the stool over by the bed and sat. “I think things are going to be all right, Isa. The seer assured Eskal that the Varg has no power now that the thing on your chest has been blocked. He seems to trust her judgement.” When Isa didn't answer, she asked, “Have you been by to see Rakkian?”

  “No,” he said, voice stony.

  She sighed softly. “Maybe you should.”

  “Why?” He turned a glare on her. “He's the fucking Varg, Alma. He killed my parents. He ki
lled Steinar. He nearly got me killed.” He'd been a puppet, a tool to the beast. It turned his stomach.

  “He wasn't the Varg when it killed your parents,” she said firmly. “He's the Varg because you let it through the ward.”

  “Don't you think I know that?” Isa snarled, frustration curling inside him. “I didn't sink those ships. I didn't release those wolves, he did! He's been lying to me this entire fucking time! He looked me dead in the face and called me his friend, Alma!”

  “Think about it. You've seen the kid,” Alma pressed. “He's gentler than a newborn kitten. Do you honestly believe he'd have done any of those horrible things if he was aware he was doing them? I don't think he knew. I don't think he had any idea.”

  “He has to have known. You don't just go around with a Varg inside you and not realise.”

  Alma crossed her arms over her chest. “How would you know? You didn't even know what that curse was – nobody did. And he still wanted to be your friend despite it.”

  Isa clenched his jaw and turned away. He didn't want to listen to her logic. She was right that it was his own fault, that none of this would have happened if he hadn't opened the ward, but he wasn't the one with a killer god in his soul. It was Rakkian's fault for coming back to Ulfheim.

  “Think about it,” Alma said. “You said he helped Skygge. Maybe he can do it again.”

  “I don't want him anywhere near Skygge,” Isa snapped. He didn't say anything more and he refused to look at her. After a moment, he heard the door open and close.

  Isa sighed. He was starving and exhausted, but he didn't want to let go of Skygge. She was awake, looking up at him with sad, trusting eyes. “Fuck.” He owed it to her to fix this. All he ever did was hurt people and destroy things. If he didn't take this chance to do some good for once, he'd be no better than the Varg.

  Alma was right. Rakkian could fix her.

  Isa pulled on his boots and wrapped his coat around Skygge nestled against his chest before venturing outside. It was no longer raining, but everything was soaked and Isa stepped carefully to avoid slipping in the mud by the side of the road.