Obsidian

by Suzie Wilde

  Do you?

  ‘I’m learning. Hefnir has reckoned without me. I know the winds and tides here better than he does and I can predict the weather.’

  Her skern raised an eyebrow.

  ‘All right, I can’t. But whatever happens, I’m taking Obsidian home.’

  Home? Where did that thought come from?

  ‘It’s right, though, isn’t it? I have to protect Obsidian until I take it home. The only trouble is, I don’t know which home. Or whether it’s the glass’s or mine.’

  Bera picked up the oars and doggedly rowed, hoping she could find her way into the bay. She could not remember this bit of coast when their little party arrived and supposed the Raven had gone further out to sea and come in past the skep islands. There were some outlying rocks off the headland that must be skirted and she used the tower and what she could see of the mountain to steer a rough course between them.

  When she was clear, Bera could no longer ignore the feeling of sorrow when she thought of Home. Her sadness came from something inside, not a particular place or building. There was her childhood home, marked by loss, and then marriage to Hefnir in richer but crueller Seabost. So to the homestead on Ice Island, which she had vowed to save.

  You can be honest here.

  ‘Out of duty, then, not love. Not home.’

  That’s it.

  It was a place to live, where she had brought them to start again in safety. It did not diminish her need to protect them; in fact the weight of duty was greater.

  ‘I don’t have a home, unless it’s a boat.’ There was a hole inside her that nothing so far had filled. ‘So if I’m to take Obsidian home – does that mean I’ve already done my duty?’

  The skern smiled. You’re travelling more in hope than expectation.

  She had tried to deceive herself after having the baby and perhaps her delay had made things worse. But then Bera lost sight of the tower as a sea mist enveloped her and she had to listen hard for steerage.

  The rhythmic splashing of waves against rock grew faint in the smoky mist until there was stillness. She must be inside the next bay. Now where? Bera shipped oars and told Fate to reveal where she must row. This may have begun as an ordinary sea-fret but it was trapped by fumes from the earth’s upheaval and smelled like rotting sea creatures. Bera turned to look towards where she thought the shore should be and gave a long, low whistle. A small breeze parted the smog enough to make her heart leap. She was proud of her instinct to find the boat she loved, which had kept them safe in the worst storm: the Raven. There was no mistaking the beauty of an Ottar-built ship and she was truly special once more; a skilled craftsman had restored her to a proper sleek longship, without the rushed, rehogged midsection.

  It gave her strength to pull hard and when she tied up to a boarding-rope she ran her hand along the longship’s timber. Just the feel of wood was special. Even wet, it was warm and alive. Not like stone. This wood was a deep amber, smooth as silk. She fancied she could see beneath the surface the exact marks of her father’s work, as distinct as fingerprints. If only she had made more of him when he was alive. If only… Regret was as useless as guilt, when you could change nothing. He was dead, and one day the Serpent King would pay for it. The blood debt could wipe away guilt and regret. Instead of fearing the Serpent’s arrival, Bera was determined to find him, even if it meant going to Iraland with Hefnir.

  The Raven made her stronger. She touched the wood and iron of the hull, meaning to tame Obsidian; to make it work only for good.

  She wondered why no one had appeared at the rail. They must have heard her tying up, the hulls booming, but no familiar face came and peered down at her. Where was Heggi? Or Egill? Bera grabbed one of the ropes and tried to climb but her leg would not take her full weight. She knocked furiously on the side, hating needing help and desperate to be aboard.

  ‘Hey! Heggi!’

  There was no reply, only drips as the fog turned to water on the rigging. Where was Hefnir? This boat had a small crew, too. Was everyone dead? Perhaps they were waiting for her on the shore. Bera got the oars back in place and began to row but the brymstone smog kept deceiving her. Long before she found it, her scalp flamed. Her instinct told her it was Heggi and he was in danger.

  ‘Where?’

  Her shivering skern pointed. There were shouts and the splashing of distant oars. She waited impatiently, trying to peer through the murk; then the fog rolled away and she saw a dragonboat lying further inside the bay. Sea-riders! No one was on deck, so where had the shouts come from? The smog closed in again. At first Bera was frustrated by losing her senses. But then her bond with Heggi made her inner vision strong. She pictured a rowing boat coming away from the beach, heading for the dragonboat. Bera rowed hard and fought down the terrible worry that she was going round in circles.

  The smog parted and she glimpsed Heggi, who was staring at the shore, not at her.

  ‘Help me!’ he cried, and then was lost again.

  ‘I’m here!’

  The fog smothered her voice. Bera swung her head this way and that, trying to catch any break. The dim shape of the dragonboat appeared and she groaned. The small boat was nearly there and she could never outpace the oarsmen. She wanted to keep facing Heggi, so she swung her boat and shipped oars. Perhaps he could jump overboard if he could see her. But could he swim? How could she not know? A real mother would. His small face was a white slash of fear – still fixed on the shore. He was held by a sea-rider, battle-hardened, with an ugly helmet. Any disturbance might cause Heggi’s death.

  Boykin! She silently willed her son to look in her direction.

  At last he did. He held out his arms to her but she was too far off. No matter where he was going, she would find him and she prayed he would know that. She held one hand over her heart: to keep it in her chest and so he might know how much she loved him.

  The helmet also turned to see what Heggi was looking at, but gave her no more regard than a gull floating on the water. And then they were alongside their vessel and Heggi was handed up to some others waiting on deck. Her son twisted away and leaned out to look for her. Even at this distance she sensed Heggi giving his sweet, brave smile and the knowledge made stinging tears flow. No time to wipe them away and through blurred rage, she set to rowing for the beach. Where was Hefnir? Who had let Heggi go? Egill? Surely Hefnir would not let the sea-riders take his son? Did he know?

  Only when she neared the shore did Bera think her husband must be dead. There was his body, spread-eagled on the shingle. Even when the boat crackled against the pebbles Hefnir was still, his sightless eyes staring upwards. It explained why Heggi had been taken but she could feel no grief for Hefnir with their son in so much danger.

  Egill met her in the shallows and quickly said, ‘He’s pole axed with grief. Hefnir. He had to trade for his own life.’

  ‘He should have paid with it!’ Bera spat. ‘I almost mourned him.’

  They quickly beached the boat beside Egill’s curricle then Bera marched up to him.

  Hefnir raised his head slightly. ‘It’s all right.’

  Bera wanted to punch him. ‘All right? Heggi’s been taken off to a dragonboat by strangers and you say it’s all right?’

  ‘See – they’re not strange,’ put in Egill.

  Hefnir sat up. Bera took one look at his expression and knew that what she had feared from the very beginning had come true.

  ‘He’s claimed him, hasn’t he?’

  ‘He is kin, Bera. He will care for him – and it pays the blood debt.’

  ‘Not my father’s! You didn’t have the guts to collect that!’

  Egill said quietly, ‘See, the Serpent blames Hefnir for his sister’s death.’

  Bera turned on her. ‘I know that, you fool! Stop interfering and leave us alone.’

  Egill’s face had the wiped look that came before tears.

  Bera made a great effort to lower her voice. ‘All I can think about is Heggi. I’m sorry I spoke roughly, Egill.
You are not the enemy.’

  ‘You’re afraid, Bera.’ Egill smiled through tears. ‘You always shout, then, at the ones you love. Sigrid says—’

  Hefnir spoke over her. ‘His captain brought the message. Sea-rider. I don’t know them, or their boat. The Serpent King stayed aboard, knowing I’d fight him.’ He got to his feet, as if from a long sleep. ‘It’s over now, Bera. We can safely return to Iraland together with untold wealth.’

  She wanted to slap his slack face. ‘Safe because you gave away our son! You coward! You wouldn’t fight the Serpent if he’d come, would you? Not without Thorvald! It was one sea-rider! How could you?’

  Egill sniffed. ‘The oarsman was armed too.’

  Bera was fixed on Hefnir. ‘He’s your own flesh and blood!’

  ‘And Heggi’s mother was the Serpent’s sister, remember, and he loved her. That’s the only reason I let him go. He will be all right. We shall see him again soon.’

  ‘Love? He’s vile! I want Heggi out of there. Now. They’ll be leaving any moment.’

  ‘That’s just it.’ Hefnir’s cold laugh never reached his eyes. ‘They’re staying at anchor until we give him Obsidian. Then he’ll hand over Heggi.’

  Bera fell to her knees.

  Egill crouched beside her. ‘Let him have the stone, Bera. It solves everything.’

  Bera pushed her away. ‘It solves nothing! I have to protect Obsidian… and something else; I must scry in it again. But the Serpent is the last person in the world I’d give it to!’

  ‘He will have seen you, Bera.’ Hefnir loomed over her. ‘He is only waiting for Obsidian. It’s only ever been your choice. You either hand him the stone and get Heggi back or leave our son with the Serpent King. He’s setting sail for Iraland on the ebb.’

  25

  Bera was wracked. Perhaps Obsidian only made her feel more confident when doing its bidding, whilst in fact it weakened her own powers. She scrambled to her feet and set off along the beach, needing to be alone, to hear advice from her skern, her mother, Valla ancestors, even the ravens; anyone. Anyone but Egill, who immediately followed her.

  ‘Go away.’

  ‘Heggi will like Iraland and he will be safe with his uncle. All right, he looks bad with all those tattoos but he did love his sister, or he—’ Egill stopped.

  ‘Or he wouldn’t be claiming the blood debt from Hefnir. Egill, listen to yourself! The Serpent came to kill him in Seabost and my father paid the price! You know all this!’ Bera took some deep breaths. ‘Heggi knows his father doesn’t want him and now he’ll think the same of me!’

  Egill kicked the sand. ‘I didn’t think you wanted that old black stone as much as them.’

  ‘Hel’s teeth, Egill! I’d give it away in a heartbeat if I could be home safe and warm with my son and baby.’

  Home again?

  Then she remembered. ‘I’ve left it lying at the bottom of the boat!’ Her carelessness made Bera’s stomach heave. ‘What if it’s gone?’

  They headed back to the boats.

  Egill said, ‘You would see the theft of Obsidian.’

  ‘If I was any good at prediction I would have killed the Serpent years ago when I had the chance.’

  ‘I meant you would actually see it. There’s only us three now.’

  ‘Tell Hefnir I need time. If it’s there, I will look into the looking-glass and decide what must be done.’

  Egill touched her arm. ‘I thought you knew already, dearest.’

  Bera shook her off. ‘I’m not your dearest. Go and hug Hefnir. He’s the only thing you truly value, unless at last you’ve realised that all he cares about is himself.’

  ‘As you would know, Bera.’ She ran off.

  What did she mean?

  The dragonboat was hidden in the yellow smog. Vile trails of sulfur curled along the beach, making Bera choke, but the ebb had not yet come. Her skiff was there but no sign of Egill or Hefnir. Had Egill betrayed her and stolen Obsidian? Were they taking it to the Serpent King? Her head and heart split in two about that. But suppose Hefnir went back to Iraland with Heggi? Egill’s curricle was still on the other side, so they were hiding it here.

  Bera leaned over the rail, picked up her heavy shawl and breathed again. Safe.

  Still your choice alone.

  ‘Then I must face Obsidian again.’

  She took it where she would be unseen, with a rocky spit at her back. She lay the glass on her lap but it was blurred by tears.

  Her skern nestled against her. Dear one.

  ‘I would die for Heggi. If Egill meant that all I care about is me, she’s wrong.’

  It’s our duty, you and I, to stand alone.

  ‘Folk never see that! I’ve had to do it all without my mother.’

  Still angry with her for dying.

  Sobs hurt Bera’s raw throat. ‘She never said she loved me, even when she was dying. I was only six! Nor did Ottar…’

  You have the Raven, now.

  ‘True – and my father put his love into her.’

  Egill is thinking about her father, too. Perhaps he taught her how to build a curricle.

  ‘Perhaps we are more like sisters. She makes me so angry.’

  Yet you also understand her. You both want to escape.

  ‘The difference is, I stay.’ Her black bead was a fiery reminder. ‘I do my duty.’

  But, oh, it hurt. She did not want to look in the stone again and perhaps she didn’t need to. She could hand it over and save Heggi, who she owed so much. Her boy had made her a better person. His belief and trust made her strong… and so the Serpent King must not have Obsidian, for it would double and redouble his blackness. Without it – who knew? Perhaps he might one day be restored to the person she had seen once in a dream, who brought the smaller Heggi a wooden horse and laughed and kissed the woman who looked so much like him then.

  Bera dried her eyes, wanting to miss nothing that Obsidian would show her. It might well confirm a course she didn’t want to take but there must be no mistake. Her skern hung limp at her neck. He suspected, too. She took a deep breath and looked. At once she had her answer and it was worse.

  Sacrifice. The ebb would come and there would be no release for Heggi – and none for her.

  As soon as Bera returned to the boats, she called the others. Hefnir launched the skiff and Egill followed in her curricle, back to the Raven. Hefnir looked as wretched as she felt and Bera wondered what he was thinking. He was so much smaller without Thorvald. Well, his cowardice had led them all to this point. And his lust for Obsidian.

  ‘If I offered to give Obsidian to the Serpent King, you’d stop me, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Believe what you like.’

  ‘You should have killed him before handing Heggi over.’

  ‘I told you. He wasn’t on the beach.’

  ‘You’re still not answering.’

  ‘All right, but if I had fought the sea-riders and been killed, how would that have helped you?’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘It’s only ever been about you, Bera. Valla – or Brid – whichever heartless god you claim to be today. I’m your puppet, so use me as you please. You will anyway.’

  ‘It’s not me who pretends belief, Hefnir, but you, for any advantage. You probably used it to make Heggi side against me but failed. You’re no puppet, you always try to escape any blame. I’m the puppet of Fate, not you.’

  Bera wanted to be sick. Her words were full of horror at what Obsidian had shown of Fate. It was all she could do to tie the boat at the stern. Two crewmen appeared – they had perhaps stayed hidden before, fearing the dragonboat. They looked like ermites and were silent and nimble crew, so everything was quickly stowed, the anchor was raised and they set sail. The Raven’s nose twitched to windward and they took up their oars.

  Hefnir was steering to pass the dragonboat’s stern. Bera went to the bow, to get as close to her boy as she could. The Serpent King himself was waiting for them, veiled in fog. She had forgotten how repulsive
his body was. At this distance, he looked black but Bera knew it was not the warm sheen of the Warden’s natural skin but a deliberate disfigurement to make a full dragon body. She understood his purpose now: he was pouring its vile power into himself. Every portion of skin was clotted with soot and ash, pushed into cuts, to mingle with his blood as scales and teeth, spines and claws. The memory of being close to the Serpent’s slit eye in his armpit brought back the foul smell.

  Now he was close, watching them and smirking. He beckoned and the captain pushed Heggi into those foul dragon arms. He thought he had won and Bera was certain that if she gave him Obsidian he would not give her Heggi. His little face was pink with hope when he saw her. He waved – and broke her heart. Her hands were clasped round her throat, almost throttling herself.

  Heggi’s smile faded into ash.

  The Serpent King’s eyes widened in his tattooed face. He thumped his chest with a solid fist.

  ‘You, Hefnir. You gutless bastard!’ he roared. ‘All I want is a lump of black stone and you’d rather keep that than your son.’ He pointed at Bera. ‘And you are worse. Call yourself woman? Your heart is cold and black as Obsidian. You can’t feel love!’

  He was wrong. Bera loved that boy more than life. She would carry the look on Heggi’s face to her dying day and Obsidian had shown her that it must be soon.

  26

  Bera was so hollowed out by grief that even being aboard the Raven gave her no joy. She felt swept along by Fate and unable to make any decision except to go north, and even that was what Obsidian commanded. The high mountains made going by sea the only way possible but cold air dropped from them unpredictably, like a trole trying to drown them. In between, the heavy air made the sail hang limp. They finally took it down and Bera was relieved to simply row and be left alone. Beside her, Egill stayed silent. Only the two crewmen occasionally spoke to Hefnir in a strange tongue.

  Hefnir. Once, she had liked to see him at the helm, competent and strong. She admired anyone who could handle a boat as he did. Now, he looked like a frail old man, deceitful, dishonourable and cowardly. It sickened her to have him with her. But far worse was the guilt that was like a bird tugging at her entrails. Even the empty, scrubbed deck hurt. The last time she had been aboard it had been packed with settlers, heading off at her promise to a new life, to avoid flood and famine. Children played: Heggi! And animals were stowed below decks: Feima. Heartache. It truly squeezed her heart.