Page 2 of Rune

The clan, however, worshiped Tova for a different reason: the brown mark in the shape of three intertwined triangles on the nape of her neck. She’d been born with it, and none could deny Odin himself had marked her.

Our clan had never had a child marked by the gods before, and they never let Tova forget how special she was, usually in hopes of being blessed by the gods through her.

I had a mark too, an alarmingly long scar webbed down my left arm that seemed to expand every year since I’d fallen from a tree as a child and the branches tore my skin. It was strikingly obvious and the bane of my existence, along with my troubled breathing.

Sometimes I pretended it was my own mark from the gods. But if it was, all it symbolized was I was destined for mediocracy.

Still, I wouldn’t trade my place with Tova for anything. I saw what others did not. The constant praise made Tova feel lonely, like an isolated idol that wasn’t allowed to breathe—only be. Be perfect. Be strong. Be our beloved gift from the gods. Until she was with me, the one person who let her be whoever she wanted. I was seen by her, and she by me. We were each other’s safe harbors, and the bond between us was tight.

At Tova’s words, I lifted my chin. “I’m eager to join the winter raids if you’ll have me.”

Jarl Hakan’s tone was disregarding. “We shall see.” He stepped beside his wife, but not before he leaned towardFaðir. “Let us speak soon.”

Faðirstraightened. “It’d be an honor. I’ll seek an audience when I return.”

“No need,” Jarl Hakan whispered. “It’ll be best if this were a private conversation.”

Faðir’sjaw ticked with worry, but he bowed his head, then led us under the arch and onto the sacred ground.I tried to put thoughts of the chieftain’s disapproval behind me as I entered the worship ritual and searched amongst the thick smoke, but I couldn’t see where Trig had gone.

There were about twenty altars in sight right now, but Njord’s was undeniably the most popular amongst my clan. Settled on the fjord in the region of Danmark, we had much to ask of the god of wind and sea.Móðirwent to him first, dropping her shield to kneel on as she recited her prayers.

My family came with a long list of blessings we hoped for: a plentiful harvest, healthy family, and a kind winter.Móðirstill prayed for a son, but she was past her years of receiving one. I wouldn’t ask for these things, though. I had only one request.

“Jarl Hakan seemed impressed with you,” Tova whispered at my side.

“He hardly looked at me and we both know it,” I muttered back. “It’s no matter. I’ll impress him when I fight.”

Incense burned, creating a poignant scent stinging my chest. The seer’s black lips peeled back to grin at us through the smoke. I gave hima wide berth as I passed, partly because his raspy voice and long, bony fingers unnerved me and partly because the smoke got caught in my lungs and made my breathing worse.

“Welcome, chosen one,” he said in a scratchy voice as Tova passed. She bowed her head in respect. Even the fearless Tova had a glint of nerves in her eye when around the seer. His hungry gaze seemed to catch that, and his smile deepened.

“Odin watches you.” The terrible sound of his voice slithered through the evening. “Soon, you will have the eye of every god.”

She flinched. Little did he know it was the eyes Tova hated. But she took the unprovoked prophecy in stride as she said, “I hope to please them.”

The curve of his brow said she would. Then his eye flicked to me, darkened, and he retreated.

I pushed thoughts of him away and swung my gaze around.

Before Njord’s altar, my sisters were presenting gifts at the foothold of the golden dais as heatwaves from the fire clouded the air around them. I didn’t look long before turning away. They’d learn someday just as I had—small tokens weren’t enough to make the gods listen to our mundane prayers.

I stepped into the taller grasses that snagged on the fur of my boots. By cutting through the trees, I’d find the tucked-away altar of the one god I still spoke with.

“Rune?” Tova followed me, catching me by the hand. The torches illuminated the mass of freckles across her cheeks, the only feature that proved we were cut from the same cloth. The wrinkle in her brow cut deep. “Maybe just once, put your offering before Hariasa, ask her to bless your efforts to get a shield. Perhaps then you’ll find your strength.”

I choked on a bitter laugh. “If the gods saw fit to give me strength, it would have been years ago.”

“Ask Thor then. Show the gods you still care. Perhaps they are testing your faith to see if you stand true.”

“I do not need those gods,” I reminded her. “You and I have trained together every day for our shields. That will be enough.” She opened her mouth, but I stepped away.

That was the idea I hated the most—the gods were testing me by giving me this illness in my lungs. That somehow, they’d seen me as an innocent babe and decided the helpless child needed something to make her weak, so she had no choice but to rely on them.

I clutched my satchel tight and slipped further into the overgrowth. I would not rely on the major gods any longer. “Go pray to Odin, sister. I will pray to Aegir.”

Perhaps when listing my sister’s great attributes, I left one off. She saw the best in the world. It was an easy thing to do when the world had given you the best it had to offer. When you had comfort to fall back on, it was easy to walk through the little fires life threw at you. A great optimism still stirred in her, one that crumbled to ash inside me long ago.

“I will pray to them for you,” she said. “Someday you will be healed.”

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