Page 27 of A Curse Carved in Bone
Why had I ever wanted this life? Why had I ever believed I’d feel good picking the valuables off the people I killed to line my own pockets?
I shoved the entire sack at Gyda. “Take this as compensation.”
The smith opened the sack and examined the contents before turning a discerning eye on me. Silently, she unfastened her belt and pulled off a sheath that held a beautiful seax, which she handed to me. “Never loses its edge. I’ll include it along with the shield to make this a fair trade. Are you content?”
She could have given me a crust of stale bread instead of steel and I’d have called it even just to get the spoils of the dead out of my hands. “Yes.”
The smith gave a satisfied nod, then looked to Bjorn. “It is good to have you back. Less good to find out you’ve been something of an idiot, but hopefully you’ll grovel your way back into her good graces.” Gyda buckled her belt. “May your steel serve you well, shield maiden. My king.” She nodded at Harald, and turned on her heels and rounded the bend.
“The hour grows late,” Harald said. “Show care in your ride into the wilds, both of you. Nordeland isnotSkaland, and she gnaws the bones of any who forget it.” Inclining his head to me, he said, “I will pray to the Allfather to give my wife the answers you seek and for you to return to Hrafnheim armed with the knowledge needed to change all our fates, Freya.”
Bjorn had a strange look on his face.
“I pray for this as well.” I touched the hilt of my sword, every part of me feeling better with it back in my possession. “Thank you for not leaving it to rust. It was my father’s.”
“Family is important.” The king of Nordeland clasped my shoulder. “Please find a way that I don’t have to lose mine.”
I gave a tight nod as I watched him walk away, then turned to find Bjorn crossing the bridge to where a man waited with two horses. The wolves sat with their tongues lolling and I said, “Come!” and hurried across the bridge. I swiftly fastened my bag and shield to the saddle of one of the horses. Bjorn was already astride by the time I’d finished.
“Keep up, Born-in-Fire,” he said. “And keep your eyes on your surroundings, not on my backside.”
Before I could retort, Bjorn dug in his heels, leading me into Nordeland’s wilds at a gallop.
The pace Bjorn set forced me to concentrate on guiding my horse and staying in the saddle, for once we left the main road, it grew rough indeed. The path was narrow and rocky, and it frequently crossed deep streams with treacherous footing. Branches of birch and pine stretched over it, threatening to take the unwary rider out of the saddle at every turn. The air was heavy with the scent of earthy moisture, and it was hard to see very far into the forest courtesy of the thick foliage. Deer and rabbits frequently darted through the underbrush, and the canopy overhead was full of chorusing birds that fell silent as we rode beneath. It would have been a challenging ride on a calm horse, but the mount I’d been given spooked at every shadow, its nerves made all the worse by the wolves that haunted our heels.
Bjorn didn’t stop for an evening meal, only slowed his horse, and dug through the supplies he’d been given, eating while his horse trotted calmly up the path. My own foolish mount nearly caused me to inhale a piece of dried meat when it shied away from Hati for the hundredth time. I was painfully tired, but I’d happily ride through the night in pursuit of the glimmer of hope burning insideme.
Saga was a seer. A child of the Allfather, which ranked her above all other Unfated. He allowed her glimpses of the future as the Norns had woven it, and seers were sworn to reveal the truth of his words lest they face his wrath in the next life. In a world of liars, Saga might well be the only soul I could trust to tell me the truth. Yet it was not lost on me that seers spoke in riddles and prophecy, so truth was not the same as clarity. I would have to glean useful information from what she told me in order to understand Hel’s magic and exactly what she foresaw me doing, because only by understanding the steps the Norns saw me as taking could I confidently walk a different path. Or, at least, not ignorantly stumble off a cliff.
Ahead, Bjorn drew his horse to a sliding stop, the light breeze carrying with it his loud curse. I increased my pace even as I watched Bjorn dismount and leave his horse to wander over to a patch of grass. As the animal moved out of the way, it revealed a woman sprawled on the ground. Bjorn bent to help her sit, and I swiftly dismounted and approached.
Perhaps my age, she had long honey-blond hair woven into a thick braid. She was also shockingly pretty. “Are you hurt?” I asked.
The woman’s eyes moved to me, and her head cocked slightly as she took me in. “No,” she finally answered. “Your husband’s horse startled me, and I fell. But my mushrooms…” Lifting her hand, she pointed down the shadowed slope to where a basket had rolled until it came to rest against a bush, the mushrooms she’d been gathering spilled.
“He’s not my husband,” I muttered. “Go fetch her things, Bjorn. You shouldn’t have been riding so fast on a narrow trail.”
He made no argument, only growled, “Stay with her,” at the wolves, then headed down the slope to retrieve the basket and mushrooms.
Once he was out of earshot, the woman said, “I’ve never seen a man so beautiful.”
“Baldur incarnate,” I said. “But he’s also a lying traitorous arsehole, so don’t let his looks fool you.”
“I see.” She straightened her skirts, and I noticed a piece of hide tufted with fur hanging below the hemline. Not a garment I’d ever seenworn, but who knew what was common to Nordelander women. “I think your underskirt has come unfastened.”
She gave an embarrassed chuckle and reached down to tuck it under her skirts. “Thank you.”
We watched Bjorn gather the mushrooms, and the woman said, “You’re angry with him?”
“That’s an understatement.”
“Was he unfaithful with another woman?”
It was such a pointed question that my whole body twitched. Yet the woman did not seem to notice, her eyes all for Bjorn as he hunted in the shadows for the rest of the mushrooms. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no.”
“Do you desire him?”
“No!”
