Page 14 of A Curse Carved in Bone
“But they risked coming because we were consumed by her.” Skade spat on the ground at our feet. “If we were here to defend our shores, this would never have happened. It is an ill omen.”
“We are here now.” Harald rubbed at his temples. “And Islund has paid a heavy price for their boldness. See the rest of them dead so that they might know the cost of attacking my lands when none of their drakkar or warriors return. Go.”
Skade wavered, and though my concern was the threat she posed to Freya, this defiance was not something I’d ever seen from her before.
“Bjorn is returned,” Harald said softly. “I do not need you at my right hand any longer.”
Skade blanched, her eyes widening with hurt only for Harald to reach out to cup her cheek. “Islund struck a blow against me, my sweet Skade. They killed our people and that hurts me. You are the only one I trust to deliver appropriate vengeance. Islund must taste the ash of defeat.”
Silence stretched and my skin prickled with the certainty that more was being communicated than just the words Harald had spoken aloud, for a slight smile formed on Skade’s face. As always, she saw praise where I saw manipulation, inclining her head and murmuring, “I shall see it done, my king.”
Twisting on her heel, Skade strode up the beach toward the trees, pausing only to retrieve her tunic and mail before disappearing.
“Skade’s fear makes her a threat,” Harald murmured. As I followed his line of sight, it was to discover him staring at Freya. She still sat in the sand, though now she was tentatively petting Kaja. “Better for her to go somewhere she can do no damage.”
Unease pooled in my stomach. For though it should be a relief that Harald was taking steps to protect Freya’s life, there was something off in the method he was doing it. He didn’t trust Skade the way he once had, and the way Tora stared dead-eyed at the sand spoke to yet more conflict. Much had changed during the time I’d spent in Skaland, and I did not think it was for the better. When I’d left, it had felt as though we were all united in our goals. But now I could feel tension and divides between everyone.
Harald stepped away to give orders to his Nameless. Most of the thralls were Islunders, though some were from Skaland and others still from parts of Nordeland. All big and strong, arms tattooed with knotwork and ravens and wolves, yet I knew what unified them were their crimes. The darkest and worst sort of men who delighted in the ugliestof behavior, all tamed by magic and made to wear hoods that obscured their faces for the rest of their lives as punishment. Men without names. They were the only sort of thralls Harald ever took, and though they deserved punishment, I’d always thought death would be more merciful than what they endured.
Shaking my head, I gripped Tora’s arm. “Thank you for keeping Arkyn from blowing a hole through my chest. Inkwork is costly, and I’d not be best pleased if I had to pay to have it done again.”
The faintest glimmer of her usual spirit filled her eyes and Tora said, “I did not do it for you, arsehole. I vowed to kill Arkyn, and if I’d let you do it, I’d never have heard the end of it.”
“Unfortunate you didn’t get to test out his fingers before you put him down, but I suppose some sacrifices must be made to win the war.”
Tora punched me in the shoulder with enough force that I staggered. “You are such an arse. But I’m glad to have you back, brother.”
My stomach twisted, because Tora and I had been nearly inseparable as children. Siblings of blade, not blood, and all the stronger for it, but the gulf between us was wide because of the things we had done. We had stood on opposite sides of the battlefield twice and lost comrades to each other both times. Bodil had earned a place in Valhalla, but I’d never forget how Tora had broken Freya on the walls of Grindill, Thor’s lightning rebounding off Hlin’s shield into dozens of civilians, the smell of burned flesh thick in the air. Never forgive how Freya had been driven to the point she believed her own death was the only way to protect those she cared about. Though it was not lost on me that Tora had been acting under orders, which made me question whether Harald deserved forgiveness.
Harald had sought Freya’s death right until the moment he’d learned just how dangerous she was, and what she’d done today would only have affirmed in his mind what a weapon she mightbe.
Tora’s lips parted as though she had more to say, but nothing came out. She swallowed hard, then squeezed her eyes shut, and I could see the artery in her throat fluttering from what must be a rapidly beating heart.
“What is it?” I asked softly, my hackles rising because some heavy thought clearly preyed upon her. “Tell me.”
She drew breath as though to speak.
But Harald had finished giving the Nameless their orders, and he shouted at her, “Tora, enough chatter! Get my drakkar set to rights!”
In years past, Tora would have retorted with softhearted defiance but instead she lurched toward the listing vessel, the awkwardness of her motion catching my attention. Tripping and stumbling until she finally righted herself and began giving commands for others to help her overturn the large vessel. The strangeness of it had me watching her with narrowed eyes, wondering if the blow she’d taken when the whale had struck had rattled her skull badly enough that she needed care.
“We leave for Hrafnheim without delay.” Harald’s voice drew my attention back to him. “Only my drakkar and the Nameless necessary to row up the Rimstrom. Volund and the rest shall remain here to help with the injured and see to the dead.”
I frowned, and some strange instinct drew my gaze out to sea. Just in time to catch the flicker of sun catching on metal. Lifting my hand to shade my eyes, I saw the faint outline of a sail. Impossible to tell what sort of vessel it was or how close it had come, but it was heading across the strait toward Skaland.
“The fate your mother foresaw has not been altered.” Harald surveyed the bodies his warriors were dragging up the beach to be burned. “A dark cloud looms over Nordeland, and I think Freya needs to speak to Saga before the storm descends.” He exhaled a breath. “And pray to all the gods that it is not already here.”
I felt the shift as Harald berated his warriors and hooded thralls to make his drakkar seaworthy. A growing sense of urgency that infected everyone with a tension that sang through the air. And though the result was us soon continuing down the coast to the mouth of the river Rimstrom, the desperate need for the answers Saga might have for me far outweighed the fear I felt at sailing toward the king of Nordeland’s stronghold.
The beaches we passed were barren but for the occasional village eking out a living from the sea. Villages little different from my own childhood home of Selvegr. A dozen small homes. A market. A handful of rough wooden docks. A few fishing boats. The villagers came out when they recognized the blue-striped sails and Harald’s white wolf banner, lifting their hands in greeting to their king as he passed. The land beyond these villages was dense with conifers. Endless green that covered the sides of mountains, which had white tips despite it being the end of summer. Fjords ran between them, and it was up one of them we sailed. The entrance to the great river Rimstrom, the waters icy cold from the glaciers that fedit.
I kept to the front of the drakkar, away from Harald and Bjorn, who stood at the rear, Steinunn with them. The silent thralls worked the oars, leaving me only Tora for companionship.
The child of Thor touched the burns on the side of her face, then sighed. “Thank you, Freya. For saving my life. You had plenty of reasons to leave me to die, and instead, you risked your own life to save me. I owe you a debt.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” I watched a school of fish swim beneath us. “If I’d let the whale eat you, I’d have lost the chance to kill you myself, so it was worth the fight.”
Tora stared at me for a minute, then a loud guffaw burst from her lips. “For such a small woman, you have a great deal of spirit, shield maiden.”
