Page 6 of The Girl the Sea Gave Back

“They’re dead, Espen.” Freydis’ voice faltered under the words. “All of them.”

I watched their faces, the silence falling heavy between us. If it was a band of raiders, the deaths would have beenminimal. Whoever marched on Ljós had come for blood, not wool or grain orpenningr.

Espen’s jaw worked as he thought. Once, the Nadhir had been two clans, both bigger and stronger than the Svell, who had been nothing more than a distant people in the eastern forests. They’d survived by avoiding notice. It was after the Herja came and our clans united that the Svell gained their strength and advantage. Now, they were finally ready to use it.

“They’ve sent a messenger,” Freydis said. “The Svell.”

“A messenger?”

“Their leader, Bekan, wants to meet. In Ljós. He wants to make an offering of reparation.”

Espen and Aghi looked to each other silently. Whispers of war had traveled across the valley for years. It didn’t make sense that their leader would make an offering of reparation after their first attack on a village. Unless attacking Ljós wasn’t Bekan’s act of war.

“It wasn’t Bekan,” I murmured, thinking aloud.

“What?” Freydis’ brow wrinkled.

I turned to Espen. “Bekan’s men moved without him.”

Mýra’s head cocked to the side. “How do you know?”

“I don’t. But we’ve known for a long time that their leaders are divided. It’s the only reason they haven’t moved against us before now. I think Bekan’s men acted without him and he wants to put out the flames before he has to call the Svell to war.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s too late for that.” Latham spoke through his teeth.

The oldest leader among us, Latham had never shed his taste for a fight. And he’d never forgotten just how quickly you could lose everything. He’d been the first to urge a strike against the Svell when the first rumors made it to the fjord.

Freydis’ hand tightened around the hilt of her sword. “I can have every Nadhir warrior ready to fight in three days. We can take them village by village. The losses will be—”

“Too great,” I finished.

Mýra’s eyes cut to mine, her mouth pressing into a hard line. I stood a whole head taller than her now, but she was still as ferocious as the day I first saw her marching into our village with a sword in one hand and a shield in the other. “It’s a trap. They’re counting on the fact that we don’t want war. They’re trying to draw us in before they push to the fjord.”

“I’ll go,” I said, avoiding her gaze.

She stilled, her hand absently drifting to the axe at her back and her voice rising. “What?”

“I’ll meet with Bekan. They’d have taken at least two more villages by now if he was moving through the valley. He doesn’t want war any more than we do. I think he does want reparation.”

“You’re not giving ordersyet,Halvard.” Latham spoke from where he stood beside me. His face was still engraved with the jagged scar from the battle that had crippled his entire village. He’d spent the last ten years rebuilding it. “Forty of our people aredead.Blood must answer for blood.”

The leaders had been in agreement when they summoned me to the ritual house two years ago and told me I’d been chosen to take Espen’s place as chieftain of the Nadhir—the once warring, now allied people of the mountain and the fjord. Since then, my days had been spent preparing for it. But I’d never seen war the way my elders had. I was among the first generation that didn’t live to fight in a blood feud. And now, a wound that would never heal had been torn back open. I’d grown up the son of a healer, but no one could mend a break like that. And no one doubted me more than Latham.

“He’s here to speak like the rest of us,” Espen rebuked, reminding Latham of his place. He was the last person to hesitate drawing his sword, but he knew I was right. War with the Svell meant the same kind of losses we’d suffered ten years ago. Maybe more.

“Let me go,” I said again. “It will take at least three days to gather and ready our warriors. I can make it to Ljós and back in that time.”

Mýra glared at me from across the fire, her green eyes sharpening. “If he’s going, I’m going.”

“You’re staying here,” Aghi grunted. He was the only father either of us had, but Mýra wasn’t one to take orders. “I’ll go with Halvard.”

She opened her mouth to object, but Espen spoke before she could. “So will I.”

Freydis looked to Latham, stiffening. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Her voice turned wary.

“We’ll take twenty warriors. Latham and Freydis, you will call in the villages. Ready our people for war. Mýra will do the same here in Hylli.”

But Freydis didn’t look sure and neither did Latham.

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