* * *
In the dark, making a slow tour around the group of pine trees, Diaz’s mind played tricks on him. He heard voices on the wind, the clink of metal, the whistle of a spear, the color red in the night, faces in the shadows. Or half faces, like that of Lara, the Silent Twin, standing motionless in the wind in her long black veil. Waiting. Like he was. It was only a matter of hours before the warriors would close in on them. And then? Perhaps they should all fight and die together. A fitting end to their journey. Or perhaps he should wake the twins and guide them out of harm’s way before the morning came. But would they go with him? He wasn’t sure. And could he condemn the others to death? Stand by, like Lara, and watch? And if the warriors came upon them stealing away, who was to say that Gobann would spare Diaz and the twins? All he had were the words and promises of his father. Would Gobann respect that, even believe him? Unlikely. He sighed and started another round in the opposite direction, his footsteps tracing a circle in the snow.
The tide should be low enough for them to pass over the stone causeway, ancient and broken down, to the isle. They needn’t wait longer to cross. The foot of the island itself had emerged from the sea to stand tall in the midst of a wilderness of sand, cut through with wide and shallow tide pools where the wind chased ripples over the black water’s surface. And then? If they made it across, Owen would die to remake the Living Blade. And Nora? With her brother dead, what would she do? He stopped and rubbed his numb face, trying to knead the tiredness away, perhaps the confusion, too. He could wake Bashan now, while the others were sleeping. Perhaps he could persuade the prince to switch back to Shade as the sacrifice instead of Owen. But could he live with himself after that? Knowing he had saved one life by condemning another? Was Shade’s life of less value than Owen’s? How could he justify that under the code? He couldn’t, other than the weight of his own oaths that bound him. Besides, Owen wouldn’t stand for it. The young man hadn’t revealed much to him, but Diaz hoped he had some sort of plan. To not die, preferably.
He spent the night arguing with himself like that, not sleeping nor meditating, his mind in a strange state of heightened awareness while straining to hear the approach of the warriors. But he knew when they came, death would be soundless.
Two hours before dawn, he crawled back under the pine trees and woke Owen. They talked until Nora stirred, then woke the others. It was time.
Chapter 13
In the cold dawn of day, the island stood against the gaining light, a raised shelf of black. The winter storm had abated, and for now it wasn’t snowing, though the clouds hung low, full of threat. Nora splashed through the icy brine, every drop a needle of pain, gasping from the physical blow the seawater dealt again and again. She stalked, legs high, through the sound, behind her the gulping breaths of Owen and Shade, farther behind them Bashan, and behind him, the rearguard, their best warriors, Garreth and Diaz. She heard Bashan swear and curse. But they were close to the island now. Not much farther.
The tide was turning back. This was lucky, though it pulled against their tired legs, because on the other shore, where they had camped the night before, the wight warriors were forming a line. Diaz shouted a warning, and suddenly the small company’s weariness fell from them and they started running and splashing the last stretch to the island. Diaz pointed Nora in the direction of the island’s southeastern cliff and told her to make for it. At first, she thought of protesting. A straight run to the southernmost end of the island with its shallow bay seemed to be the better option, as it was slightly nearer. But as she eyed the southeastern cliff, its slopes nearly sheer, she saw fallen rocks had accumulated at the base, making it climbable. There also seemed to be a narrow cleft they could squeeze through. Squeeze through and defend if necessary, without dying on the killing ground the bay would prove to be. That half-wight sure knew what he was doing. Or maybe he just had fucking night vision.
Nora climbed, slipping off the algae-covered rocks with her wet boots, scrabbling to get into the cleft, where her hard gasps echoed off the close walls. She pulled herself up despite her burning arms and stood in open ground, on a cliff overlooking the bay. She peered over to the other shore, clutching her aching side with one arm, trying to breathe normally again. But the wind blasted through her soaked clothes. She shivered and moved out of the way to let Shade pass through the narrow opening, and they both reached down to help Owen, who nodded his thanks, breath coming in shallow hitches.
Bashan came through next, then Garreth and Diaz.
“Lucky they don’t have archers,” Bashan panted, waving a dismissive hand at the warrior wights parted from them by the incoming tide. “Gods, that was cold.”
“We won’t stay lucky for long,” Diaz said, one foot resting on a stone as he gazed over to the far shore.
“Think they’ll come over with the next low tide?” Bashan grimaced.
“No. They won’t have to. They know we won’t be able to stay on this island forever.”
“Then we get the Blade as soon as possible.”
Diaz pressed his lips together tightly. He looked back at Bashan.
“First we need to get dry and warm. Then I’ll go scouting for the Blade’s dormant form. We should rest up a bit tonight before we wade into a fight with trained wight warriors, Blade or no.”
“With the Blade there would be no fight.” Bashan looked around and saw the blue lips and pinched expressions on the others’ faces. “Fine. One night. But we need to set a watch. I’m not having those sneaky fuckers change their minds while we’re sleeping.”
They made camp in a small valley of sorts, shaded from the wind and the water by high crags of rock. A small grove of thinly spread fir trees dotted the valley, and in its midst a small fountain bubbled forth out of a rock.
“At least we have sweet water,” Owen said, nodding at the gurgling spring as he fastened the buttons on his dry woolen tunic. “We could last for days if the wights don’t come.”
“If,” Shade said, peeling his wet trousers off and wringing a bucketload of salt water out of them.
“No food, though,” Nora said, numb fingers fiddling with the belt on her dry woolen trousers. She’d seen and heard no trace of animal life on the rock isle.
Diaz had started a fire, his clothes still dripping wet, and they gathered around, worn out by the frigid toll the seawater had taken, while Bashan stood off at the edge of the small grove, one arm leaning against a slender trunk, looking out to the far shore again, his eyes unfocused on the distance. He wore a shaggy silver fur across his shoulders, and his breath misted before his quivering lips. Nora turned her head to the other side and watched as Owen carefully planted his spear into the hard ground and unfastened the belt that girded his hips with a short sword. He laid it neatly beside him and knelt down before the spear on the soft star-shaped moss that grew under the fir trees.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Praying,” Owen answered, closing his eyes and opening his hands, palms raised, on his thighs.
“Now?”
“If not now, when would be a better time?”
Nora considered this for a moment.
“But to whom are you praying? I thought Scyld killed the gods with the Living Blade? The old gods are dead.”
“To whoever may listen, Nora.”
Nora shrugged and turned away to find someone who was less devout. There weren’t that many left. Shade and Garreth had pulled out a leather pouch that turned into a game board when rolled open; their pieces were black and white stones formed like drops and shiny from use. Diaz rose from setting up hot water to boil tea and announced he would start scouting. Bashan didn’t hear him, though. Or if he did, he didn’t let on that he had. Garreth looked up from the game shortly, offering to take the first watch later on, and then he cursed that Shade had cheated while he wasn’t looking. Nora met Diaz’s eyes as he glanced over to where the twins had made camp. The lines of his face were drawn. He broke off his gaze and turned, walkin
g away, his wet clothes clinging to his body, accentuating the hardness of muscle laid over his back…and lower. Her fingers still tingled with the afterglow of the cold, prickling in the heat of the fire. She snuggled deep into her own sleeping furs and closed her eyes, his lean frame imprinted on the back of her lids.
* * *
Hours later, Nora woke with a start. The wind swept its icy fingers down her back, creeping under her shirt through a gap by her neck. She sat up, hand grabbing her knife, while her legs were kicking at their entanglement in her sleeping furs. A thick fur slapped against her face, smothering her. She yelped in muffled surprise and heard Owen curse softly beside her.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Owen?” She pulled the fur out of her mouth and realized that her brother was trying to cover her with it, not suffocate her. The tenseness eased out of her shoulders a little.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, patting her side as she turned her back on him in a huff to get back to sleep.
“What time is it? Is it our watch?”
“Three hours after sundown. So, sevenish? We have some time.”
A yawn cracked her jaw, and her stomach growled. She had missed lunch and dinner and hadn’t eaten since before the crack of dawn that day. She sat up with a sigh and knuckled the sleep out of her blurry vision. Garreth and Bashan stood outlined at the rim of the cliff on guard duty, stomping their feet occasionally against the cold, voices low. Diaz hadn’t yet returned, she suspected, not seeing him anywhere, his things untouched, and Shade lay undisturbed to her right, sleeping deeply. Nora rummaged around in her backpack for something edible while Owen brought her some hot tea.
“So,” she said between bites. “We stick to the plan?”
Owen looked at her, alarmed, then relaxed. No one was there to overhear them. He nodded.
“We’ll have to adapt it to the new situation with all those wights waiting for us out there,” he said. “But essentially, yes. Before dawn comes, you’ll be on watch duty with Shade. Garreth will wake you. You need to convince Shade to run away with you. If he doesn’t yet know that he’ll be the sacrifice to the Blade tomorrow, then by all means tell him. Wait for me, and together we’ll get off this island.”
“How?”
“I’ve been thinking about this. There are cracks and fissures in the rock base of this island. If we keep moving from one to the next over the course of the day, we might remain hidden when the other three come looking for us. I suggest we go to the northernmost corner of the island and then work our way around to the southeastern end where we came up today. There we’ll have to wait for the next low tide to make our way across the causeway and reach the mainland.”
“But…what about the wights?”
Owen held the rim of his steaming mug to his mouth and looked into the flames before them.
“Hey? Are you listening?” Nora nudged him, and hot tea scalded his lips. He drew in breath audibly and gave her a dark look, wiping the back of his hand against his trouser leg. “I said, what about the wights? There’ll be nothing to hide us while we’re splashing toward them.”
“So, first we need to create a diversion, something that will draw their attention away from us.” Owen pursed his lips. “Here’s my idea: we have to go down to the wide bay first, maybe even into it, so that Diaz will spot our tracks leading to the causeway. He will assume that we ran across under cover of the dark. The Blade thus being out of Bashan’s reach without a sacrifice, Bashan will hopefully go ballistic and perhaps do something really stupid like try to cross to get us back.”
“Which would lead him directly against the wights, who think he must have the Blade.” Nora tried to visualize Owen’s strategy. She didn’t see it working. “There are far too many unpredictable things that could happen with this plan. If one doesn’t go right, nothing will, and we all end up dead.”
Owen gave her another look.
“When has that ever stopped you?”
She lifted a shoulder as nonchalantly as she could. “Never, so far. We’ll play it by ear.”
Owen scrunched up his forehead. “I expressly told you not to improvise,” he quoted Diaz, trying to give his voice the same deep roughness, and failing.
Nora’s eyes widened in recollection, and she chuckled.
“And I thought he’d simply made a suggestion.” She flashed a grin at Owen.
His own grin spread, then died as he sipped his tea, staring into the flames. The shadows played on his face, making the dark rings under his eyes look deeper than they actually were. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot, and his shoulders sagged as he sat cross-legged in front of the fire. Nora cocked her head and narrowed her eyes.
“Did you even sleep yet?” she asked.
“I…tried.” Owen’s voice broke and he cleared his throat. “Had a nightmare.”
“Saw us dying while battling the wights?”
“No, nothing like a battle.” He turned his head away and stared out into the night. He wouldn’t be able to see anything, though; the light of the fire made them blind in the darkness.
“Bashan was so mad at us escaping, he threw one of your books into the fire and made you watch while he cackled?”
Owen’s mood didn’t lighten. He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair, even longer than hers was now. It hung in lank strands in front of his face.
“I saw you fall.” He spoke so softly she almost thought she had imagined it.
“I fell?”
“You went overboard.” He talked haltingly, not looking at her. “I saw a huge wave come cresting toward you, but I couldn’t reach your hand. One moment you were there. And the next moment, the water had taken you. One moment there, and the next…I knew I’d never see you again.”
“So I fell. What happened then?”
Owen shrugged. “I made myself wake up. I couldn’t keep staring into the black water. You were gone. And I—I couldn’t take it.”
She bumped into his side.
“I’m still here, you know.”
“First thing I checked. That’s how I woke you.” He ran a hand over his face again, massaging the stubble on his chin.
“It was just a dream, Owen.”
“Dreams can be real. More real than anything in this world. It’s the intangible ideas of the night, the concepts we dream up, the beliefs and fantasies that truly last. Stone crumbles and wood rots. People, well, we all die. Even the wights. Even the gods. But these things, as fragile as a thought or dream or story, they can go on and on, change the way people think, the way they live, the way they see themselves, and the world around them. Change the story, change the world. Just a dream, you say? That’s what I fear the most.”
Nora thought about this in the silence that followed, turning it this way and that like the blade of her knife.
“Why?” she asked finally.
“Because.” Owen turned his head and looked at her. “That means we can’t change it.”
Chapter 14
Nora woke again before dawn, when Garreth shook her by the shoulder.
“Rise and shine, girl.” He stood straight, grimacing, and pressed his large fists against the crick in his back. “Your turn.”
Nora nodded and pulled her sleeping furs tighter around her for a moment, savoring the warmth before she sat up and started moving. Garreth shambled over to his sleeping spot, looking every bit the old man he was. He had done a double shift as lookout while Diaz was scouting the exact location of the Blade. Garreth’s first shift had been with Bashan early in the evening, then with Owen during the last stretch of night. Next to Garreth and Bashan, on the outer edge of their sleeping circle, Nora could just make out Diaz. He had returned while she slept and now he sat cross-legged, sword unsheathed across his knees. His back was to a slender tree trunk, his eyes closed. Meditating, she guessed. Stick so far up his butt he couldn’t even slouch when resting. She scratched her scalp, a smile stealing over her face.
/>
Her brother collapsed next to her, and she passed him a cup of hot peppermint tea.
“And? All quiet?” she asked, sheathing her knife.
“Looks like the wights are settling in on the far shore,” Owen said, yawning.
His face was ashen, and he looked rumpled.
“Try to get a little more sleep,” she told him. “Today’s the big day.”
“Where we all die?”
“Yep. Pretty much.”
He nodded and burrowed into his furs. As she made to leave and take up her lookout post, his hand snaked out and clutched her ankle.
“Don’t die, Nora.”
She rolled her eyes at him.
“Go to sleep, Owen. You’re showing emotions.”
He hesitated a moment, as though he wanted to say more, but then let go of her ankle and closed his weary eyes.
Nora walked over to where Shade stood, a tall, black outline before the early morning darkness. To the east, across the expanse of the Ice Sea, the sky blushed a pale gray. But night still held the world tight. She joined him on the edge of the sheer cliff, facing toward the coastline of the mainland where the campfires of the wights glowed orange. She pressed a steaming mug of tea into his hand, which he took gratefully.
“Sleep well?” she asked by way of greeting.
“Actually, yes.” He blew on his tea. “It’s funny. Whenever I usually lie down and close my eyes, my brain is like, hey, you want to sleep? Nya ha. Forget about that! Let’s relive some of the worst moments of your life for the next few hours. But on days when I know shit will be going down and I should be sweating apprehension and fear all night, it’s like, hey, let’s just switch off.”
On the Wheel Page 17