Page 5 of Into the Isle

“You’re right,” I said, leaning back to blink away from the fire. There were yellow spots behind my lids from staring at the damn flames for so long. Seemed Korvan had been right about that too. “I should be more gracious.”

Korvan tilted another smile under his beard. “I know it’s difficult when someone like Damon Halldan is the target of that graciousness.” His eyes lifted past my shoulder. “Ah. Looks like I sat down too soon.”

I sat up, glancing back to follow his eyes.

Damon approached, looking sullen. He had a slight limp. Maybe I twisted it sweeping his legs out. He also favored his left side from his bruised rib.

I made ready to stand, but Korvan beat me to it. He drained his mug, winked at me, and stomped off. “Enjoy,” he said to my half-brother, gesturing to where he’d been sitting.

Damon took his place across from me. My lax stance tightened. He looked angry, of course.

My brother would have been handsome if he smiled more. Isn’t that what the boys here always say to me?

“Where are your friends?” I asked. “Hope they haven’t abandoned you.”

“After my abject failure?” Damon eked out. He scoffed. “Fuck you, Rav.”

I smirked at him. Just like I had during our duel.

“Wipe that shitty smirk off your face,” he drawled. “I get it. You had my number. I should have trained harder. Blah, blah—”

“You still wouldn’t have beaten me, Damon. You broadcast your every move with your footwork. No amount of training over the past week or month would have prepared you for what I’ve been training years to do.”

He snorted. He had a habit of sounding like a boar when things didn’t go his way, all that scoffing and snorting.

I knew his pride was wounded, more than his body. Scratching the back of my neck, I swallowed my own pride. “You fought valiantly, brother. I commend you for even stepping into the Sticks to face me.”

“Eirik would have fucked you up.”

I shrugged. “Maybe. You’re not Eirik.”

Damon bowed his head, chin against his chest. “I’d have been called a coward and fool if I hadn’t. Stepped into the Sticks, I mean.” He ran a hand through his mop of greasy black hair. “Though you did the fool-making rather well on your own.”

I let out a soft chuckle. We both had expectations here.

Then his eyes twinkled darkly—

And he reached his hand into the center of the fire.

I inhaled sharply, neck lurching.

My half-brother broke into a twisted grin. His hand didn’t burn, he didn’t scream. He lifted his free hand next to his face, curling his fingers. Firelight brightened his fingertips, burning with the yellow brightness of a blacksmith’s forge. He had transferred the fire’s energy from the hand inside the pit, to his free hand.

He snapped his fingers and sparks sizzled, the light snuffing. He pulled his hand out of the fire, unmarred, and dusted his palms off.

“You still can’t do that though, Linmyrr.”

With the insult, he guffawed and went to his feet. My younger brother made sure to check me with his hip on the way out, nearly bucking me off my log. He murmured something about me being a bitch before disappearing toward the pub.

Shame filled me more than anger. I’d already won. He was getting his frustrations out, understandably.

He wasn’t wrong, either; I couldn’t summon like he could.

Standing from the fire, reminded of my inadequacies, I shook my head and ambled toward the longhouse. Feeling dejected, but only momentarily.

My summoning will come to me. In time.

I was ready for sleep and the big day tomorrow.

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