Page 15 of Rune

“Your betrayal hurt a lot worse.” That was dramatic of me, but I didn’t regret it. Let me have my theatrics. Gods knew I didn’t have much else. I didn’t have strength, I didn’t have my parents’ favor, I didn’t have Trig. I didn’t even have a clear picture of my future. All I had was a chipped heart, aching side, and dulled sparring axe.

Anger had controlled me moments ago, but it was gone now. Now, I just felt lost, and a little abandoned. I needed some time to find my way again.

I’d taken a few steps down the mountain when he spoke again. “In the morning, we plan to worship the gods to bless our future. It’d mean a lot to Tova if you came.”

Ten minutes ago, he said he would have married me if he could. Now, he wanted me to approve his bond to another. A final tear slipped down my cheek. “The gods will either bless this marriage or they won’t. It’s got nothing to do with me.” I tilted my head up to the cloudy, dark skies. “Besides, I renounce the gods.”

siX

TRIG SUCKED IN a breath. “Rune—”

“No,” I swung to him. “Don’t.”

“Revoke your words now.” He stared at the sky and backed away from me. “You didn’t mean it.”

“I did,” I told him. “I renounce the faith.”

“Rune…”

But I was moving away. Soon, his pleas for me to take it back faded, and my mind was too clouded to hear his words anyway. Or perhaps it was clear for the first time. None had ever renounced the gods, but I was the first to see things for what they were. If I needed to be the first to take that step, then so be it.May others follow in my path and be free from empty words.

The gods were known for many things. Strength.Wisdom. Benevolence.

Yet, I knew them for only one: ignoring my voice.

On the slope of the mountainside grew a vineyard consecrated to the gods. It was miraculous for a vineyard to grow in a cold place such as this—much less to thrive as it did—so the clans were convinced it must be our wondrous gods who kept the grapes alive, and as such, the wine was only allowed for healing purposes. It was a waste of good wine.

Those who were truly desperate would come here to pray. They thought they could speak to the gods better here, believing it to be their favorite place to visit.

“Rubbish,” I said as the hillside came into view. Ten acres of vines stretched before my eyes, filled with the plumpest grapes I’d ever seen, bursting with dark purples and the rich scent of wine. “The gods are enjoying their wine in Asgard and have no need for ours.”

The morning was early, with the sun stubbornly set below the mountains and only a hint of dusty pale light in the air, just enough to see the misty cloud that hung low over the vines. I crossed beneath the wooden archway and set foot on the paved path stretching down the various aisles. Above, a sign read,‘Behold, the gods are near.’

I’d never felt them so far away.

That feeling was gone, the sense that they were behind my shoulder, watching over everything I did. That they were always just a prayer away. That they saw everything. That somehow, someday I’d do something great enough to gain their approval. Even that tender wish was gone, and I felt bare without it.

I wrapped my arms around myself, treading through the chilly morning and letting the vines brush against me, feeling the occasional grape break underfoot. The gods would hate that—me trampling on their precious grapes—but if they cared, they’d need to come down and tell me so.

The first time my prayer went unanswered, I’d doubted my faith.If they do not answer, why do we pray?Faðirhad no answer.

It wasn’t the next day, or the next month, but the question clung to me like the thick robes of our seer, growing heavier each day, and somewhere along the way they built a home inside me with the subtle whisper that I could be wrong.

It wasn’t a whisper now. It was louder than a Viking’s battle cry.

“None of this is true.” The words were faint on my lips as I tasted the blasphemy. It tasted like truth. “I see now. All of this—it was never real.” The idea hewed at my heart until it broke into something I didn’t recognize, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to catch the pieces fast enough before they fell out of place. I was too far broken to reassemble the same way as before. However I’d fit back together—I’d be different.

I tilted my head to the sky out of habit, staring through the thin clouds. I yelled out, “What am I to do then? I made you my entire life. What do I believe in if not you?” The skies didn’t darken or rumble in reply, as much as I wanted them to. “If you are there, answer me!” It was a desperate plea, and the sound came straight from my soul. “If you are there, do not leave me alone.”

But I was alone. For the first time, I was convinced there was no one who could answer anyway. The sky was an empty vault holding the broken mutters of prayers, and the clouds would watch and laugh as we grasped at coincidences and claimed them to be miracles.

With my head upward, my feet stumbled, and I caught myself against the trellis of the vines. When I looked down, my fingers brushed against a grape. I hesitated.

What was one more test?

My nerve almost backed down, but somehowit held fast.

“I should not be able to do this,” I said. My heart pounded in my chest. If these vineyards were really the gods’, and the stories of men were true, one bite of the sacred grapes would kill me.Don’t do this. Walk away. If you’re wrong, you’ll die.But I was beyond logic now. I was nothing more than a shell of blinding frustration, and right now my faith lay in tatters at my feet.

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