The Girl the Sea Gave Back(16)

Footsteps in the gravel sounded behind us and we turned to see one of our men at the tree line. “They’re here!”

Espen and Aghi met eyes before they gave the order and everyone moved, drawing their weapons and lining up before us. I pulled my axe from its sheath with my left hand and my sword with my right, letting their comforting weight fall at my sides.

“They’re waiting in the glade ahead.” He ran to us, shouting between heavy breaths.

Espen clapped him on the back as he passed and he took his place at the end of the line.

Aghi reached up, tightening the strap of my armor vest beneath my arm. He set his hands on my shoulders and turned me, checking the other side. “Stay at the back. Use the sword before the axe.”

“I know,” I answered lowly.

He reached up, taking the back of my neck with his rough hand and meeting my eyes. “Ready?”

I searched his face, a knot tightening in my throat. At the back, I wouldn’t be able to fight beside him if he needed me. And he wouldn’t be able to run. If a fight broke out, he was the most vulnerable of us. “Ready.”

“Good boy.” He let out a long breath, smiling.

He took his place beside Espen, and I went to the back as he gave the signal. We moved toward the trees shoulder to shoulder, taking measured steps and keeping the line tight. When we passed into the forest, the quiet swallowed us, the cool air like water against my hot skin.

I looked to my right, half-expecting to see my brothers there. Fiske’s dark head of hair pulled into an unraveling knot and Iri’s blond beard braided down his chest. Myra had been right. They’d be angry when they found out that I’d come to Ljós without them. So would Fiske’s wife, Eelyn. And now, Myra’s words echoed in my mind, making me wonder if this was a mistake. Maybe it had been foolish to meet with the Svell. Maybe it had been a desperate, weak move.

The glade appeared ahead, bathed in warm sunlight and the stretch of tall golden grass was aglow with it. It wasn’t until we reached the tree line that I saw them.

Two lines of twenty-five or more Svell were on the other side, their elk-hide leathers making them almost invisible in the trees. A single hand lifted into the air and a man with long flaxen braids stepped forward, out from under the branches. Espen lifted his hand in response and we moved together toward the center of the glade. The wind blew through the grass and it rippled around us like the calm waves of the fjord when we stood in the shallow waters, fishing with spears.

Espen and Aghi stepped forward as we stopped and the blond man across the glade did the same. From the look of his armor and the brooches around his neck, he had to be Bekan, the Svell chieftain. A black-bearded man walked at his side and they parted the grass in a straight line as my heart kicked up, my pulse pounding at my throat.

Aghi’s fingers twitched at his side, resisting the urge to lift his sword at the ready, and I counted the number of steps it would take for me to get to him if I had to. A bead of sweat trailed down from my brow, stinging my eyes.

“Espen.” Bekan spoke, coming to a stop before them.

But it was a face in the distance that pulled my gaze, a raven-haired figure standing behind the two rows of their warriors. A cloaked girl stood beside their Tala, her eyes fixed on me. The telltale black marks of the Kyrr crept up and out of the neck of her tunic, where an unfolded wing spread across her throat.

The only Kyrr I’d ever seen in my life was Kjeld, Asmund’s man, but I knew the stories told over night fires well. They were a people of mysticism and ritual, their marks holding the secrets and stories of their ancestors. They lived in the fog of the headlands, the borders of their territories drawn with stone statues of their god Naer and the sun-bleached skulls and tusks of boars.

But what was a Kyrr girl doing with the Svell?

Her head tilted as her eyes narrowed at me and a sting ignited on my skin like the burn of the funeral fire. I shifted on my feet, watching her, and her brow pulled as her hand lifted, her palm pressing to her ear.

“Three days ago, a group of my people attacked Ljós. This act was taken without my consent and in direct defiance of my orders.”

My eyes went back to the men in the center of the glade.

Espen stood like a statue, his gaze unwavering. “More than forty Nādhir are dead.”

A long silence widened around us, and the race of my heart reignited, watching their warriors carefully.

“This is my brother Vigdis, the village leader of H?lkn.” Bekan looked to the dark-haired man beside him who stood so rigid that he could have been carved out of stone. “We hope you will accept this offering of reparation.”

Vigdis reached over his shoulder and took hold of the sword at his back. He slowly pulled it free and the sunlight caught the amber stones forged into the metal as he held it out before him.

It was a valuable weapon. Maybe the most valuable I’d ever see, with a steel blade and jeweled hilt. But offerings of reparation weren’t meant to pay the value of an offense. There weren’t enough precious stones on the mainland to cover the cost of forty lives. It was a symbol. And its power was entirely dependent on the honor of the one who offered it.

“Neither of us want war.” Bekan stood still, waiting for Espen’s answer. “Accept the offering and we both go home without another life lost.”

My attention went back to the girl. She stood motionless, staring at the men in the center of the glade until a piercing call echoed overhead and her gaze snapped up to the sky, where a hawk was circling. Its wings tipped against the wind as it turned and when I looked back at her, her eyes went wide. She took a faltering step forward, her mouth opening to speak before the Tala caught her by the arm, holding her in place.