Page 15 of A Curse Carved in Bone
“But not much sense, I’m afraid.” I gave her a lopsided smile. “But we all have our flaws.”
“It’s a good thing you are pretty, then.” Tora’s laughter slowly faded, and I noticed her glance to where Harald stood talking with Steinunn. “I’m sorry for what happened in Grindill, Freya. I…” Her throat moved as she swallowed hard. “I don’t like to hurt people. Thor chose poorly when he gave me his blood, because I don’t relish battle the way one of his children should.”
“Harald ordered you to do it, then?”
Tora didn’t answer, but the merriment was fully vanquished from her face now. “War is war,” she finally said. “But I will try to repay my debt to you as best I can, Freya Born-in-Fire.”
Harald’s eyes moved to us, and beneath his scrutiny, the other woman fell wholly silent. Minutes passed, then longer, but Tora only watched the passing trees as she incessantly touched the scars on her face. Haunted, I thought, but while it made sense that it had been Harald who’d ordered her to turn my shields against my own people with her lightning, my gut told me it was something deeper. It made me wonder if Thor influenced Tora the way Hel often tried to influenceme.
Darkness fell on Nordeland, and I pulled a sealskin around my shoulders as wind bit into my skin. It moaned through the trees,smelling of frost and pine, and on the far side of the river, I watched a brown bear come down to the water. It stared at me, two cubs behind it. One was injured and walking on three legs. The fourth leg was mangled with wounds that would never heal, the cub already skinny and mangy compared to its sibling. Not long for this world.
As I watched, the mother waded into the water and began to swim. The healthy cub followed while the other cried from the bank, knowing its fate. A slow death. I prayed it would be ended by a merciful predator.
It was as Bjorn had said: Nordeland was the same as Skaland, only colder. Harder.
Motion caught my attention at the rear of the vessel. Bjorn had retrieved a bow and was nocking an arrow. I’d never seen him use the weapon, but he lifted it in a way that spoke to some expertise. He let the arrow fly.
A merciful predator.
My heart ached as the river fell silent again, but my eyes remained dry as stones.
Feathers rustled. Kaja landed on the bow, which was carved in the snarling visage of the wolf Fenrir. She stared at me with her too-canny eyes, but it was a splash alongside the vessel that caught my attention. Tora sighed and reached over the edge, hauling a dripping Guthrum onto the ship.
“Any sign of pursuit?” Harald called. Guthrum shook his head, sitting next to me and eating a piece of jerky that Tora handed him before she retreated to join the others at the rear.
I had gathered that he was a child of Jord, which made him at one with the land, most especially the bird that was his familiar. Yet that was the extent of what I knew. I’d never met one of his blood before, nor heard many stories, but he was the only person on this ship besides the thralls who had not caused the death of someone I loved. “You see what Kaja sees, then? Hear what she hears?”
“If she’s of a mind to share,” he answered. “Kaja takes what is confided to her seriously, so she’ll not betray words intended for just her.”
My cheeks warmed, for I had spoken to the bird after the battle and confessed my misery before realizing the extent of their connection.
Guthrum pulled the tunic he’d abandoned earlier over his head. His hair stood up in all directions and made him appear rather feral, for his beard was also unkempt. A man who belonged in the wilds, who belonged to the land, and I sensed that being around so many people was uncomfortable to him. And while I was not uncomfortable around people, the discomfort I felt in this vessel full of enemies made me reach for the small piece of solidarity, so I said to Kaja, “Thank you.”
She only ruffled her feathers and turned her head to watch the passing trees as dusk settled further.
“How did you come to be in Harald’s service?” I asked so as to steer the conversation away from myself. And to possibly learn more about the man who now held me as a pseudo prisoner.
“As a boy,” Guthrum answered, breaking off a piece of the jerky to offer it to Kaja. The bird turned her beak up at it, and he laughed. “Before Harald was king, he was jarl of Hrafnheim. The village I lived in with my mother was on the edge of his territories and deep in the wilds where beliefs in the older ways are strong. My father had left years prior for he held resentment toward my mother. She held desire only for women, which he witnessed when she invited a woman to couple with them.”
“The goddess Jord?”
He nodded, chewing. “We knew not of the nature of Jord’s children, for skalds never ventured to our village and stories of the Unfated were few. My father believed me to be a foundling. A fae child left to stir trouble. A boy more beast than human.
“My mother cared for me on her own and the village paid little mind for my feral nature or my father’s parting words. My familiar then was a dog, so no one thought twice when I spoke to him. A big mastiff whom I loved with all my heart.”
My chest tightened, for I knew the tone of a story about to turn to tragedy.
“My father came back when I was perhaps ten,” Guthrum said. “Hedemanded that I go to serve the jarl so that I might honor him. When my mother refused, he set to convincing her with methods other than words.” His throat moved. “The next day he was found mauled to death by a beast of tooth and claw. The village blamed me. They believed that I had set my dog on him, and all those accusations he’d once cast upon me reared to life. They came for blood, and when my dog defended me, they killed him. And when my mother barred their path, they killed her, too.”
“I’m sorry,” I breathed, horrified at his tale.
“Jarl Harald, as he was called then, came to the village as it was the season of collecting tithes. He and his warriors intervened and heard my story. It was Harald who told me the truth of what I was. The son of a goddess and bound to the land. He berated my village for their ignorance and executed those who’d killed my mother, then offered me an opportunity. A home in Hrafnheim when I wished it in exchange for a promise that I watch for others such as me who were mistreated by those who were ignorant of the gods and their children. He believed it his destiny to raise the Unfated up high, as their blood deserves. I accepted his offer and have often brought word of others who suffered as I once did, so that he might aid them. Bjorn included.”
I tensed, it taking all of my willpower not to look to where Bjorn stood at the far end of the ship, out of earshot. Curiosity rose in my chest because this was at least part of the explanation for Bjorn’s loyalty to Harald. For all I claimed that I didn’t care and that his story didn’t matter, the quickening in my heart spoke a different truth.
“The burns Bjorn suffered were severe and had fouled. He was near death when he arrived on Nordeland’s shores and Saga had to leave him to search for aid. She found my familiar, who told me what had happened. I was able to bring Volund down the Rimstrom to heal him. Saga then found Harald, and he came immediately. He was the first person Bjorn saw when he finally awoke.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I whispered, hating the feelings twisting insideme.
