by Marian Gray
My breath caught in my chest. “For me?”
“Yes.” She nodded.
I climbed out of the boat, and my boots met the wet timber. “Thank you,” I whispered in disbelief as I took the spear from her grip.
“Take care of my love for me.”
“I will.” I turned to leave with my eyes still glued to the weapon, but Hetla grabbed my wrist and yanked me back around.
Her face loomed close to mine. “Just so we’re clear,” she hissed. “If you think this is your chance to escape, you’re wrong.” Her voice was low and meant for only my ears. “If that man doesn’t come back alive, and you manage to somehow disappear—I will gather this city, we will hunt you down, and I will flay you before feeding you to the beasts. There’s no place on this earth that you can hide from me.” She released my arm. I could still feel where her fingers had been. “I have taken you into my home, clothed you, fed you, and kept you alive when others wanted to kill you. Don’t forget that.”
“I won’t,” I whispered in disbelief. Was she really threatening me? I tried not to let my anger show. I understood Hetla’s intent behind her bark. Svotheim may not fear for his life, but Hetla did. I was just another danger to her. However, I wasn’t going to scamper off with my tail between my legs. “And don’t you forget that I have cared for your home, worshiped your gods by your side, and fought for you.” While my voice was not as threatening as Hetla’s had been, I tried to put strength behind my words.
Hetla’s face broke into a small smile. “Fare well, Derethe. May the gods watch over your voyage.”
I marched back to the ship and hauled myself over the boat’s lip. An ugly taste lingered at the back of my throat from the abrupt encounter. What had I done to make Hetla believe such nasty thoughts?
I would never kill Svotheim, and running was a death sentence. I had experienced once before what life as an exile was like—surviving outside of society’s help. It was impossible. I starved most days and froze during the nights. If it wouldn’t have been for my twin, Mithe, I wouldn’t still be on this earth.
“Ready?” Svotheim’s fingers tied one last knot.
I shrugged. “As ready as I can be.”
He nodded and strutted to the boat’s stern. A small crowd had already gathered to see us off. Ark Ulfur stood with his wife, Nilska, at his side. His stern gaze met Svotheim. There was some pride behind those old blue eyes as he looked at the young sailor. “Go with the gods and return to us triumphant.” As usual, the Ark’s voice was powerful and rang with courage.
The crowd cheered as Svotheim hopped onto the pier. His long fingers gripped the bright white rope by his foot and unraveled it from the metal cleat. When it was free, he hurled the bundle of twine onto the deck. The boat broke from the dock as soon as it was released, pulled out by the current.
Before the gap had a chance to grow too wide, Svotheim lunged onto the vessel. His boot met the deck with a trained ease.
“Grab the oar.” He dashed to the rower’s bench and grasped a wrapped wooden neck. “We’ve got to fight the bay’s tide if we want to make it to the sea.”
I did as he requested, sitting on a plank that ran through the center of the boat. My hands wrapped around the oar as it rested in the ring lock. I had never done this before.
“On my mark, you’re going to swing the paddle forward, drop it into the water, and pull back with all your might. Keep your back straight, head up, and shoulders relaxed.”
My arms trembled. I didn’t want to mess up in front of the Ark of Varund and the others. They would never see me as an equal if I couldn’t row out of the bay. And If they didn’t consider me an equal, chances were good I’d never gain my freedom. This warpath of mine was all about proving myself.
“Nice and steady.” He breathed in soft and rhythmic pulls. “And paddle down!”
The oar’s blade dipped into the glittering water. I reeled back. The resistance from the sea was greater than I had expected.
“There you go. Relax your shoulders.”
I drove my oar forward in time with his, and again, sank it into the water’s grasp. My feet pressed against the raised floorboard in front of me.
“Strong on the legs. Very good.”
Strike after strike, we rowed ourselves out of the bay, slicing through the water with an easy speed. The sea breeze beat against the ship’s sail as it attempted to catch against the cloth.
My heart raced right along with the boat. Each time my oar slid through the air, my thoughts fled from me. The cold water splashed on my face, and I was overcome with a surge of confidence and exhilaration. My body hummed from the work. Goose bumps rose across my skin as the fire below teemed, blooming to life. The rush was so strong, it practically pained me to contain it.
My fingers burned as my palms tingled, but I withheld. I grinned when the wind filled the sails. We flew across the water’s surface, and I felt so alive.
My powers had returned.
VI
Oceanic
The earth was hidden, but the sky was dotted with the fires of a thousand torches. Their glow reflected off of the sea’s crystal surface, creating a world of black glass and floating lights.
My legs stretched out in front of me, and the ocean’s wind flitted through my woven hair. It blew the thick braids away from my face, allowing the slapping waves to splash against my exposed skin. My arms and chest stung with an acute intensity. Every time I lifted my body, my muscles cried out with a burn. All I could do was lie across the deck, motionless. I hoped the morning would bring some relief.
Svotheim draped himself along the wet boards opposite me. A large jug of wine lingered next to his thigh, and every so often, he’d lift the immense container and drain a bit of the contents into his belly.
“So, what do you think of your first day at sea?” He broke the silence. We hadn’t spoken throughout the voyage, other than to call out orders.
I yawned. “Tiring. Monotonous. The water’s cold and constantly trying to touch you.” But I didn’t mind it too much. Every time the icy droplets met my skin, heat raged behind the thin layer that separated them. It was an odd sensation but invigorating as well.
His chest belted out a light chuckle. “Sounds about right. There’s a nice calm to it, though, no?”
“Yes.” There was something about being out on the ocean that lifted my spirits. Despite my fatigue, I felt invincible, as though I could go anywhere and do anything. Worry, fear, and shame ceased to exist within me. It was nearly the same sensation I had experienced in Askaden.
“Enjoy it. Life rarely hands you a moment of peace.” His words swayed with a slight drunken rhythm. “I like it.”
I did enjoy being able to just let my bones sink and not have to worry about someone barking at me to get water or stir the fire. There were no expectations on board this ship, other than to just sail and do it well. “Is that why you became a shipbuilder? You like the open water?”
“No. I became a shipbuilder because I can read the trees. I know which ones will bend for the boat and which will snap under pressure. It’s a familial gift.” He gave a sniff, wiping his nose. “What did you do back home? What was your profession?”
That life seemed so far away now. “I was a hunter. My twin and I went after highly desired game for trade.”
“A twin? So, there are two of you running around?”
“Aye.” I sighed. “I have a twin sister. But we are twins by birth, not by appearance. She’s taller than me and thinner too. Her hair is a tad lighter and less curly.”
“Did she…” He shifted in his seat. There was a marked discomfort and difficulty in his voice. “Did she—uhm…”
“Did she survive the attack?” I finished the question for him. “Yes, she did. She sprinted out the door before anyone reached our home.”
“And left you?” He scoffed. A loud scrape sprang out into the quiet night as Svotheim dragged the wine jug closer to him.
“Well, that’s a matter of p
erception. It appears she left me, but it was really I who abandoned her.” I bit my lip to hold in my emotions, tasting the thin layer of sea salt. “I stayed behind to protect our home even though she begged me to leave with her. And then, I was hauled across the ocean to a new land.”
He took a quick swig from the jug before bringing it back down to rest on the wet deck. “What do you think she’s doing now?”
“I have no idea. I don’t even know if she’s still alive. I have every confidence that she could survive on her own, but I just don’t know for how long she could go on. She was never one to grin and bear it.” I felt the sharp needle of sorrow prick my stomach. I swallowed hard to halt the tears from forming. The subject was more unsettling than I thought it would be. “Why aren’t you and Hetla married?”
“How do you know we’re not?” The bright glow of a million stars allowed me to see the smirk on Svotheim’s face.
“I’ve never heard anyone refer to her as your wife or to you as her husband.”
He sighed. “Well, that’s rather observant of you.”
“So? Why do you not want to marry her?”
He snickered. “You have it switched. It is she that refuses to wed me.”
A pang of indignation struck me on his behalf. “What? Why not? What else does she want from you? You provide for her. You go without if it means she gets whatever extra she wants.”
“It’s not as simple as that.”
“How is it not? What else is there?” I would never understand why they allowed relationships to be such an abstract and trivial thing here. Defined rules eliminated misunderstandings and situations like these. “Is it love? Does she not love you anymore?” Not that love should ever play that large of role when choosing a partner.
“No, it’s not that.” He sipped more from his jug.
“Well… then what is it?”
“It’s difficult to explain if you don’t know the story.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s long.”
I sighed. “It’s not as though I have anywhere to be anytime soon.”
The light howl of a growing wind breezed past us before he spoke. “When Hetla was a young girl, she caught a sickness. One that the spade said would kill her.” He rubbed his nose. The cool air was clearly getting to him. “However, she also knew a spell that could save Hetla. The spade took her away into the mountains, and for a week, she murmured chants, made her eat special herbs, and burned the sickness out of her. But in the process, Hetla’s womb dried and shriveled into nothing. The spade said it was the price of life.” The man’s lungs drew in an unsteady air. “Hetla refuses to marry me because she cannot bear me children. But I refuse to leave her because I cannot bear to be without her.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond, and a quiet settled over the ship. I felt bad for them but knew pity was the last thing he wanted.
“One day it will come,” he whispered. “The spade says the fire still burns inside of Hetla, spreading throughout her limbs. That’s why it takes her so long to heal. One day, the flame inside of her will take her life.”
My lips pursed into a frown. “And then what will you do?”
He laughed again. “Drink too much, get fat, and die in battle.”
I rolled my eyes. “The dream of every Varundian.”
“No.” He shook his head. “If you add women into that splendor, then you have the dream of every Varundian. What’s the point of living if you can’t stick your cock inside of a pretty girl every once in a while?”
His brazen speech forced a laugh from me. I had forgotten how good it felt.
The wine in the jug sloshed around as Svotheim raised it to his lips. “I’ve tried to be patient and mind my own business, but I can no longer starve my curiosity. What did the spade talk to you about when we visited the hovve? Why did she want you alone?”
The moment she had requested that they leave the two of us alone, I knew this question would come. I had planned an answer, but I hadn’t expected to be stuck on a boat with him with nowhere to run should the interrogation become too intense. “She simply wanted to meet me.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Because you’re a slave.”
I hated to be reminded. “Well, Iver told her about me before he left for Arus. She wanted to see the Daughter of Athiss with her own eyes.” I hoped he would leave it there and believe her visit was spurred by the Temple’s proclamation.
“Iver told the spade about you?” He repeated my words.
“Yes. I was surprised too.”
Svotheim let the conversation rest while he took another drink from the jug. He swallowed hard, and his light eyes drifted up to the star-speckled sky. The tiny glowing dots reflected across his glossy gaze. “It’s not surprising at all actually.”
“It’s not?”
A smirk split his lips. “I know the truth of the situation, and it’s insulting that you think I wouldn’t. How could I not notice something like that?” He grunted. “My own best friend.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Hetla doesn’t, but I do. I can see it, Derethe.” A drunken chuckle bubbled from his throat. “But it’s kind of funny because it’s not your fault. No, you guard yourself well.” He nodded in my direction, and his tone lifted, conveying an air of respect. “The only reason I know is because of him. When you spend almost every day of your life with someone, you notice the slightest of changes. The smallest things, while invisible to others, are so obvious to you. It was him that gave it away. I know him better than anyone else.”
“Svotheim, are you feeling alright?” I sat up. “I don’t understand what you’re going on about.”
“To be honest, I was shocked when I figured it out. He was never one to chase after skirts. Not to mention, he’s as loyal as a dog, despite his resistance to commitment. But you did it. I don’t know how, but you did.” He wiped his dripping nose again. “Don’t worry though. I have no intentions of doing anything. I’ve never seen the man so captivated with anyone. I wouldn’t take this from him.”
My jaw bobbed, terrified of what he expected me to say next. I wouldn’t deny my feelings for Iver, but to hear Svotheim go on about how he believed that Iver was taken by me… It was just unfathomable. My mind couldn’t wrap around the revelation. He had made it very clear that we were simply allies. Nothing more, nothing less. “Svotheim, I—”
“That’s all, Derethe. I don’t want to talk about feelings anymore.” He cut me off. “I just wanted to tell you that I know.”
The waves slapped against the boat with an angry force as rain pelted downward in a slanted dive. The sky was falling on us at an unmeasurable pace. Lightning broke through the black billowing clouds, and thunder clapped close to my ears. My heart skipped from every pounding boom. The brutality of the sea raged around us while our small ship groaned under the stress.
Soaked from head to toe, I knelt on the deck. My cupped hands furiously shoveled the building water out of our boat. Dark gray surrounded me, and fear culminated in my stomach. A burning panic rifled through my chest and sweltered in my throat. It wasn’t working. Nature was trying to rip the vessel apart, and I couldn’t save it.
My power teemed beneath my flesh, begging to be released. But how would a string of light rescue us?
“What are you doing?” Svotheim had to scream in order to be heard over the roar of the world.
My eyes glanced up, but I could barely see him. The rain’s heavy drops blurred the scene around me, and my own hair licked at my face. “I don’t want to drown!”
His hand wrapped around a rope that connected to the collapsed sail. It was the only thing holding him in place. With an outstretched finger, he pointed behind me, and his mouth curled into a laugh.
With my bones shaking from the wet cold, my head whipped behind me to see a massive wall of water. It charged toward us, gaining in size. It was already the height of three buildings.
>
My heart seized in my chest. Even if the mountainous wave didn’t break on us, the ship was going to snap like a twig—unable to curve with the water’s bend.
With a whimper, I dashed to the center of the deck and wrapped my arms around the slender mast. The smooth, slick wood pressed into my chest, rattling in time to my heartbeat. It was that pound of life that thumped heavily in my ears, beating louder than the rain and ocean’s growl.
“Spirits save me,” I cried out, as my cold body shook with the fright of a woman on her deathbed.
Svotheim’s cackle rose over the whipping wind. It spun around my ears as the monstrous wave roared near. Lightning flashed, illuminating all the sea creatures caught in the transparent tide. They were spiky, long, and slithery, locked in the ocean’s angry grasp and charging toward me.
I shrieked as the giant wall of water swarmed the boat. It rivaled the hovve’s tallest roof. The wooden planks were hurled up the sharp slope with an agonizing groan and ferocious speed. Every piece of the ship shook with an unbearable jolt. The incline was so steep, I felt my feet giving out to gravity. My arms tightened as the vessel was carried perpendicular to the earth.
My body dangled in midair.
The boat cried out in horror. Its hull slammed into the wave’s back and mounted the monstrous body for an attack. Planks snapped, and the deck cracked all around me. And yet I could still hear Svotheim’s laugh above the clapping storm, the screaming ship, and the booming wave.
Wind and rain slammed into my back, as my feet smacked back onto the deck. I glanced over my shoulder to see myself standing a hundred feet above the rest of the world. Lightning and thunder smashed the sky around me.
We were being hurled at a merciless pace toward a distant coast.
“Svotheim!” I had to shout to be heard, even though the man stood but ten feet from me. With a trembling finger, I directed his attention to the land.