The Girl the Sea Gave Back

by Adrienne Young

  It had to be about Tova. And Kjeld. Both of them, somehow. “Yes.”

  But if they’d come for more than the girl, we were ripe for the taking.

  I looked down at Eelyn, running a hand over her hair. Her fair skin was more ashen than I’d ever seen it, the exhaustion glazing over her eyes. She didn’t fight against my mother’s hands anymore. She didn’t have the strength left for that. I took a new bottle of ale from the shelf on the wall and opened it. Her shaking hand lifted to take it from me and she tipped her head back to drink.

  The village was almost silent when I pushed back outside, walking up the path to the ritual house. The Nādhir were already dragging the bodies of our people down to the beach and the Svell that the Kyrr found in the forest were lined up on their knees at the top of the hill, their hands bound behind their backs. Three lines of warriors looked out over Hylli, their muddy faces watching the serpent ships that filled the cove, anchored in the calm water beneath the clearing storm clouds. A few of them already lay dead, facedown in the slick grass.

  “Halvard.” Freydis called to me from where she stood on the beach, her eyes reddened beneath a bleeding gash on her forehead.

  Latham lay at her feet, his hands folded over his middle and his eyes closed. The wound that killed him was splayed open across his chest, his woven leather armor vest torn and unraveling in a diagonal line. I swallowed back the pain in my throat, sinking down beside him.

  “The others?” I asked, wiping a streak of mud from his face with the back of my hand.

  “We lost Egil, too,” she answered quietly.

  I set my hand onto Latham’s shoulder, squeezing before I stood. I hoped it was the quick death he deserved. I hoped he was in the afterlife with my father, meeting faces of long-lost friends and telling the story of what had happened. He’d been ready to die, but I hadn’t been ready to lose him. Now, I would look to Freydis and the others who were left to guide me.

  The doors to the ritual house opened in the distance and from where I stood, I could see Kjeld’s blond hair as he stepped into the sunlight. His eyes found me down the path before he made his way toward us.

  Asmund appeared in an open doorway as I passed and I stopped to take his arm, clapping him on the back as he leaned into me. “Alright?”

  “Alright,” he answered, his attention on Kjeld. Together, we walked to meet him and he stopped in the middle of the trail, waiting for us.

  “What is this, Kjeld?” I watched his face, looking for whatever he may not say aloud. But he looked me in the eye, standing tall before us.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I had to be sure.”

  “Of what?”

  He rubbed the place between his brows, putting the words together. “The girl—Tova—she’s the daughter of the Kyrr leaders.”

  Asmund took a step backward, staring at him. “How did you know?”

  “The marks,” Kjeld answered. “I knew by her marks.”

  I remembered the way he reacted when I told him about the girl in the glade and the eye inked onto her chest. The way he’d changed his mind so quickly about coming with us to Hylli and the way he’d stared at her in Utan. As if he’d seen a ghost. “You went back to tell them their daughter was alive.”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “And what is she to you?” My hand went on the hilt of my sword.

  “What?”

  “Did you use her to set right whatever made you run from the headlands?”

  “She is the reason I left the headlands. Tova is my sister’s daughter,” he said, swallowing hard.

  Asmund cursed under his breath, half-laughing as he looked between us.

  “What are they doing here, Kjeld?” I lifted my chin to where his people were still gathered by the hundreds.

  “They’re here for her. For Tova.”

  “What else?”

  I could tell by the way he pressed his lips into a flat line that he knew what I was asking. It didn’t matter why they’d come. The only thing that mattered was what they’d do now that they were here.

  Kjeld shook his head, looking at his boots. “The Kyrr aren’t like you.”

  “What does that mean?” Asmund narrowed his eyes at him.

  “They see the world through the omens and the runes. They don’t have Talas or councils or elders, they cast the stones to consult the Spinners. There’s only the stones.”

  I waited, trying to read him, but Kjeld never gave anything away. With him, everything was always hidden. But he’d never struck me as a liar. “What does it have to do with Tova? Why did you say she isn’t supposed to be alive?”

  “When my sister cast the stones and said that Tova was fated to die, I told her that I could change it. That I could make sure her future was rewritten.” He paused. “It was a promise I couldn’t keep. Tova drowned in the sea when she was six years old and the Spinners had their way.”

  The bite of cold over my skin returned, remembering the way she’d appeared to me in the forest. “Then how is she here? How did she end up with the Svell?”

  “The Spinners? The gods? I don’t know. When we sent her body out on a funeral boat to the sea, she was dead. I saw her. I held her in my arms, Halvard.” He swallowed past the tears in his eyes. “She was gone.”

  “And you left the headlands.”

  He answered with a nod. “When you told me about the marks on the girl in the glade, I knew you were talking about Tova. But I had to see it for myself. I didn’t think it was possible.”

  “And now?”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Now?”

  “The entire Kyrr clan is on the mainland. In my village. What happens now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I took a step toward him. “What do you mean you don’t know? You just said your sister is their leader.”

  He looked up at me, almost apologetic. “I told you, Halvard. They only listen to the stones.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  TOVA

  Svanhild set a pail down between us and dipped a clean cloth into the cold seawater. I watched her drag it down the length of my arms, cleaning around the knife wounds above my elbows and washing away the dirt and blood. As the beat of my heart slowed, the pain rose, reaching all the way down into my fingertips, the throbbing pulse of it making my stomach turn.

  Hylli sat untouched outside, as if the blood of countless Nādhir hadn’t just been spilled for it in the forest. It wasn’t the first time many of the same warriors had fought for their home on the fjord and it likely wouldn’t be the last.

  I studied Svanhild’s face as she worked, wondering if she planned to be an enemy or an ally. She rinsed the cloth and wiped down my arm again, until the marks that stained my skin were all visible.

  “Did you do them?” I asked, trying to place her in the vision I’d had when I took the henbane smoke. I could almost feel the warmth of the fire on my bare skin and hear the sound of a woman humming as her hands worked the bone needle over my back.

  “I did.”

  “And they all have meaning?”

  “Yes.” She smiled. “Some of them are prayers, some prophecies. Some are the sacred stories of our people.”

  She let go of my wrist and I traced the symbols with the tip of my finger, stopping on an intricate stave below my elbow. “What does this one mean?”

  Svanhild came to sit beside me, craning over my arm. “It means safety for the journey.”

  “And this one?” I pointed to a set of circles within one another on my shoulder.

  “Blessed by Naðr.”

  I studied their shapes, their messages almost seeming to make them change. They were wrought with meaning, each one, but they had only ever been secrets to me. Mysteries written across my body in a language I couldn’t read.

  She watched me from the corner of her eye. “You still have them.” Her eyes went to the opening of my tunic, where the string that held the rune stones showed.

  I reached up, pulling at it until the
purse was free. Its weight landed heavily in the palm of my hand.

  “I made them for you when you were only a baby. Every woman in our family is a Truthtongue. All the way back to the child that the Spinners gave as a gift to Naðr as an offering. We put the stones into the boat with you when we sent it out, so you’d have them in the afterlife.”

  I let one stone fall into my open hand, the firelight dancing over the rune. Othala.

  “Kjeld says you were casting the stones for the Svell,” she said, leaning forward to see my face.

  My fingers closed over the stone and I stared at her feet, swallowing hard.

  “It’s alright, Tova.”

  I blinked as fresh tears burned behind my eyes. “You would be ashamed if you knew what I’ve done.”

  She folded her hands into her lap, waiting.

  “I knew the runes,” I said. “I had a sense for them even when I first came to Liera, and when I saw that they kept me alive, I used them. But the Svell used me, too. I led them to attack the Nādhir in the glade and then Utan. I was the reason they came to the fjord.”

  “Ah, yes. It seems that way, doesn’t it?”

  “Seems?” I wiped the trail of a tear from my cheek. “It was my rune cast that brought them here.”

  She smiled again. “The fate of the Svell was carved into the Tree of Urðr long before you cast the runes. And so was yours.”

  “Then which comes first? The carving in the tree or the acts that shift fate?”

  She laughed. “They are the same moment. We do not understand time, sváss. Mortal minds cannot comprehend the Spinners or their work.” Her hand unfurled before me and she waited for me to set my own into it. “Before you were born, I knew that we would lose you. I didn’t understand why Naðr would give you to us only to take you away. But the Spinners already knew your fate. I told Turonn that we would have you for only a little while, but my brother Kjeld—”

  “Kjeld?” My eyes widened. “The Kyrr with the raiders?”

  “Yes. He thought he could change your fate. And when you died, we didn’t only lose you. We lost him, too. But the Spinners are much wiser than we are. They are expert weavers. And when the time was right, they brought you back to him so that he could keep his promise to us.” She lifted a hand, catching a tear at the tip of my chin. “We gave you to the sea, Tova. But the sea gave you back.”

  I tried to make sense of it, looking for the pattern in my mind. But it was too knotted up. Too tangled. Something had turned the current that day. Something had woken me from death. All I thought I had understood about the Spinners and the runes was like the trickle of water from the whole of the sea. It was only now that I realized how little I knew.

  But one thing was clear. It was as sharp in my mind as the sight of my mother sitting before me. I’d made a promise to the Spinners and to myself to protect Halvard and his people. And even if it meant going against the Kyrr, I’d keep it.

  “What will you do now?” I asked.

  She rested her head on the wall at our backs, looking down at me. “Ah, that’s for the stones to decide.”

  “What?” The knot in my stomach tightened. If the Kyrr wanted the fjord, all they had to do was reach out and take it.

  “Every moment is a possibility. The Spinners brought us here to find you. But we don’t know yet what other purpose they have for us. We won’t know until they tell us.”

  “Purpose?”

  “Mortals and gods cannot be trusted to obey the warnings of the Spinners. The Nādhir should know that.” Her voice trailed off.

  “What do you mean?”

  She sat up, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees as the firelight caught her eyes. “What do you know of the Herja, sváss?”

  “That they were a demon army.” The sound of the bones knocking above the gate returned to me.

  “They are darker than demons, Tova. The Spinners warned Sigr and Thora that the time had come to end their blood feud. But they did not listen. So the Spinners rewrote the fate of their people on the Tree of Urðr with their blood.”

  The truth of it sank deep in my gut, making me feel like I was going to be sick. The Herja had almost wiped the Aska and the Riki from the earth. They’d filled the land and the water with the dead. I’d known the Spinners to be ruthless, but I had never imagined this.

  “So, you’ll cast the stones,” I whispered.

  “You will cast them,” she said, standing.

  I stared up at her, my lips parting to speak before the heavy doors creaked open and Kjeld appeared. His hair was combed back, and the sharp edges of his face looked like Svanhild’s in the low light. Again, that feeling of remembering lit in the center of my chest. I’d been alone for so long, and suddenly, an entire family surrounded me.

  “What is it?” The sunlight coming through the door fell on Svanhild’s face.

  Halvard stepped in behind him and I stood without meaning to, my fingers tightening around the small stone in my hand.

  “Their chieftain wants to speak with you.” Kjeld looked to Halvard.

  Svanhild tilted her head to the side, eyeing him as he moved toward us. “You’re quite young to be chieftain.”

  Halvard didn’t respond, coming around Kjeld to stand before us. I waited for his eyes to meet mine but they didn’t. “I want to know what you plan to do with the Svell you captured in the forest.”

  She picked up the bucket and poured the water into the corner of the fire pit, sending up a cloud of steam. “You want to kill them.”

  “I want you to release them,” he said.

  Her eyes snapped up, studying him, and Halvard returned my mother’s gaze with an unreadable expression.

  “Release them? When we set foot onto this shore, they were trying to kill you. They were trying to kill my daughter.”

  “They’re our enemy. I’ll decide what’s to be done with them.”

  Svanhild looked amused, a bit of wonder curling on her lips. “Why would you let them live?”

  “I’m not going to kill warriors with their hands tied behind their backs,” he said, simply.

  “Then what will you do with them?”

  His chin lifted. “Let them go.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ve seen what blood feuds do. Generations of our people gave their lives for one.” He paused. “That’s not how we live anymore.”

  I watched his face, the feeling of pride blooming in the center of my chest.

  She thought for a moment before she looked to Kjeld. “Let him do what he wants with his prisoners. The rest is up to the Spinners.”

  Kjeld nodded in answer and Svanhild touched my arm softly before she slipped outside with Kjeld behind her. The door closed, the sunlight gone, leaving Halvard and me standing beside the fire.

  “You need those closed up.” His eyes fell to the cuts on my arms and the pain of them suddenly returned, coiling around me until I was trembling.

  I pulled the sleeves of my tunic down to cover them. “I need to ask you something.”

  “What is it?” He looked apprehensive, his hand drifting to the hilt of his sword.

  “There’s a body in the forest that I want to burn.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Who?”

  “A Svell man. He was … my friend. I think.”

  A question passed over his face like a shadow, but he didn’t ask it. “Alright.” His gaze went back to the door.

  I knew what he was thinking. He wanted to know what the Kyrr planned to do. He wanted to know if the Nādhir were done fighting yet. “I don’t know,” I answered his unspoken question honestly.

  I pulled in a deep breath, steadying myself as I looked up at him. The mud from the forest had been wiped from his face, but it still crept up and out of his tunic, reaching around his throat like fingers. In the firelight, I could see the pulse moving beneath his skin.

  “You were right,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting. “We’re not dead.”

  The pul
l of the same smile awoke on my lips and I felt the heat come up into my cheeks. “No, we’re not.”

  “I was going to thank you.” His voice dropped low.

  “For what?” I asked, confused. I’d only brought darkness to him. I’d only cursed him since the day I first saw his face in the glade.

  “For coming here. And for what you did in the forest.”

  He took a step toward me and my heart kicked in my chest, the blood running faster through my veins. I traced the shape of his eyes and the curve of his jaw with my gaze. I tried to carve into my mind a memory I’d never forget.

  He came closer and I pulled the smell of him into my lungs and memorized that, too. He leaned down, hiding me in his shadow as he pressed his lips softly to the corner of my mouth. His hand wound around my waist and for a moment, I melted into him, the warmth of him flooding inside me and filling me up. And when he pulled away, the blazing fire of his touch still burned on my skin.

  “You’re welcome,” I whispered.

  He smiled, his eyes dropping to the floor, and the rough, rigid parts of him fell away, revealing a crooked smile on his lips. He turned without looking at me again and stopped before the door, his hand on the latch. And just as I thought he would speak, he pushed it open, disappearing into the light.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  HALVARD

  One hundred and twelve warriors lay on five pyres as the sun sank down the sky, disappearing behind the violet sea’s horizon. The Nādhir gathered on the rocks before them were waiting, a deafening silence engulfing the village.

  Iri and Mýra stood beside the docks, the water at their backs. I hadn’t been here to see the village burn ten years ago, but they had. The same look that had been on their faces after that battle as there again now—the ashen weariness of bloodshed and the dreaded unknown of what was coming.

  Our people had fought for the fjord and the mountain and they’d won. But it seemed we would never be free of enemies. My eyes went to the glow of the ritual house, where the Kyrr were gathered with their leaders. Behind us, their boats filled the shallows.

  They’d wait until the fires were finished burning before they cast their stones to decide what to do with us. But before then, we had souls to send to the afterlife and for the first time, I would lead the funeral rites for the Nādhir.