Page 109 of Rune

Her reply came just as slow as mine had. “I’ve dreamed of raids my entire life. I’ve trained to kill. I’m Viking through and through. But that?” She licked her lips. “That was not like a raid. It was like killing family while others laughed.” She tightened her grip on her axe. “It will weigh heavy on me for a while.”

That was understandable. It would weigh heavy on me as well. I still planned to make altars for each of the fallen and wish them safe entry into Valhalla. They deserved that much.

Tova straightened her spine. “Those who return from the Beckoning are always broken people. I will not be one of them.” From the determination in her voice, she wouldn’t be. Tova would get through this. And so would I.

As we trekked through the thick brush, the sword on my back grew heavier, and my feet were like stones I could hardly move. But worse was the throb in my chest, burning as I continued. By the time we could see the low slopes of our family’s roof, it was clear what was happening.

I didn’t have the gods’ protection over my sickness anymore. The ailment was back.

I tried to hide the raspy breathing from Tova as we stepped up to the door. It was midday here, whereMóðirmight be preparing a stew and our sisters working on lessons, none of them prepared for our return. Two candles burned in the window.

Tributes to us.

We paused outside the door with our toes against the wooden sill to give each other a knowing look that transferred the meaning seamlessly. Whatever we’d just gone through, whatever we felt—it didn’t come through those doors. The burden was ours. They would get nothing but the shiny story of our conquests there, and need not share in our heartbreak.

With a heavy breath, Tova plastered on a smile. “The heroes return.” And she threw open the door.

Wind came in with us, rattling against the bottles and pulling at the clothes hung by the fire. One by one, eyes snapped up to us, first fromMóðirby the hearth, with needles in hand. She dropped her stitching to the ground with a shriek. That alerted the others—two of our sisters by her side. All needlework stopped. Our other sisters were by the beds with little carved toys that clattered on the ground as they threw them to run at us. Their screams pierced our ears and hugs were deathly tight, but it was enough to turn our smiles into real ones and somehow made the tightness in my chest ease.

“Where have you been?”Móðirasked, wrapping her arms around us all. “They are home!” Her shout drewFaðirin from the back door, his axe in hand. He dropped it and ran.

We huddled together, a cluster of tears and laughter and questions that went without answers untilFaðirbroke free and ushered us toward the hearth. “Put your feet up. Gods, what are you doing in this weather without shoes?”

We both laughed. After the Champion Games, there hadn’t been time to put them on again. “It’s warmer in Asgard,” Tova said.

The mention of Asgard quieted them all. Our sisters gathered at our feet, Sigrid close to my side and allowing me to stroke her hair as they absorbed our story. Tova went first, telling how she had been selected for the Beckoning and went to compete. Telling how a fight broke out on the first day, and how she succeeded in beating all others. At the end, she held up her axe. “I caught it in my hands as he threw it,” she said. Our parents gasped. “And killed him with this blade. If you look close, his blood is still on it.”

The youngest two squealed, but Sigrid wanted to get close to see it. Her eyes were filled with wonder.

“We knew you could win,”Móðirsaid. Her gaze shifted to me, and a tender hand stroked my cheek. “We knew you both could.”

The unspoken question hung in the air then, untilFaðirdared to ask it. “How did you both survive the Beckoning?”

I swallowed hard. “I wasn’t there as a competitor,” I replied. “I was there as a guest of the gods.” There was as an audible intake of breath. The air in the room buzzed with each passing moment, as the story unfolded and the tale lit up a fire in each of their eyes. There was jealousy there, elation, and awe. It bounced back to me, until I was able to look at what happened through their eyes and find the excitement inthe tale. “I dined with the gods, gardened with Frigg and stood at Odin’s right hand. I trained alongside them. And I was welcomed amongst their presence. Then, when Tova fought, I was able to slip amongst the mortals and fight at her side.”

“Mortals,” Sigrid repeated. “You speak as if a god.” Her hands were tight against mine, and she bounced on her knees. “What of Thor? Did you fight him?”

“I did not,” I told her. “But I spoke with him. He is just as large and terrifying as the statues. Bigger, even. I saw him eat an entire lamb leg in one bite.”

My sisters laughed. Tova cut in. “Trig was there too. He came to fight Odin for me, and was captured for it, forced to watch me fight. He is home with us now.”

Faðirbeamed. “The gods have blessed you with a fine match.” From the corner of my eye, I spotted Sigrid’s gaze on me. Last I saw her, I was heartbroken over him. It seems being heartbroken over a man was a common occurrence for me. I straightened. Never again.

“And the gods will bless us for years to come, thanks to Tova’s victory!”Faðiradded. This time, both my and Tova’s smile was faked.

“If the gods wish it,” Tova whispered. It was just as likely Odin would burst through these doors any moment and remove my head from my shoulders, but saying so didn’t quite fit the tone of the moment.

Móðirhad fallen quiet, and was looking at me oddly. Her brow bent low before she asked, “But how was it you were a guest amongst them? We’d heard,” she hesitated, “you’d renounced the gods and run away.”

I grimaced. It was true, but I hadn’t realized Trig had shared that with people. What would they think of me now?

My grin was strained. “The gods are very much real. I don’t doubt it.”

“But how?”Móðirpressed. “How were you in Asgard?”

My stomach felt tight. “That part is funny. I met a god in the sacred vineyard, and he saw the scars on my arms that matched some goddess who’d gone missing a while ago. He thought me to be her. So he took me to Asgard.”

Faðirhad been grinning before, but now his smile sagged.Móðirwrapped her bony fingers around her linen apron to twist it into impossibly tight knots. “How strange,” she said, but the voice was far away.

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