The Girl the Sea Gave Back(29)

He tried to pull his feet back beneath him, but it was no use. The feeling had left them in the cold and the cart was moving too quickly. The Tala looked behind them before she took hold of his rope, pulling it toward her until the slack was shortened and Halvard could stand. She braced his arm as he balanced himself, a small cry slipping from his chest as he wound the length of it around his fists and tried to keep his steps in the narrow tracks of the wheels.

“Are they going to kill us?” he whispered, keeping his eyes on the ground before him.

The Tala took a few more steps before she answered, “No.”

“How do you know?” He blinked, looking up to her face.

A smile pulled at the corner of her mouth and she tilted her chin up until the moonlight reflected in her eyes again. Halvard followed her gaze to the black sky, where the outline of a bird was circling far above.

“What is it?”

“The All Seer,” she said.

“Is it a god?”

Her smile pulled wider. “No.”

“Then what is it?”

“He’s the eye of the Spinners,” she said, simply.

“He’s come to protect you?”

A Herja ran past them, his bloodied sword swinging at his side, and Halvard fell quiet, watching him disappear ahead.

“He’s come to protect you,” the Tala said, looking to the trees.

Halvard turned to search the darkness, the cold burning in his chest, until he caught sight of something slipping through the bits of light. His mouth dropped open, the hot tears returning as he saw Eelyn and Fiske. They ran through the trees with silent steps, tracking alongside the caravan as they walked.

And when Halvard looked back up to the sky, the All Seer was gone.





CHAPTER TWELVE


HALVARD


The forest was quiet, as if it knew what was coming. We were only a day’s ride from Hylli, but the farthest corners of Nādhir territory were already filling with Svell. The smoke from their fires reached up into the sky to the west, where they were camped at the foot of the mountains. Before the sun rose again, they would be pushing east.

Following the river meant another half day, but taking the faster route through the valley would make us easy to spot. And as long as we didn’t lose more time, we would beat the Svell to the fjord. We had to.

The pain in my side deepened as the horse moved from side to side, faltering over the slick riverbed. I knew the heat swelling beneath my skin meant the wound was infected. Having a healer as a mother told me that much, but I also knew it was better to have an infected burn than a gash that wouldn’t stop bleeding. If we got to Hylli in time, I’d be able to treat it before sickness could take hold and keep me from fighting. If we didn’t, I’d lose my life to fever instead of battle.

I pressed my hand firmly into the old Riki armor vest that Asmund had given me to make me less recognizable to anyone we would meet in the forest. Whoever had owned it had probably died in the fighting seasons before the Nādhir made peace. My father’s armor was made almost the same, except for the engraving of the yew tree on his shoulder clasps. It was the symbol that marked the blade of my axe, which had also belonged to him. Every spring, my mother opened the trunk against the wall and took his things out to oil the leathers and shine the bronze and I’d watch her, trying to remember his face. There were so many things about him that had faded, but I found myself thinking of him more and more since the day Espen told me I’d been chosen to take his place as chieftain.

I wondered what he would think. What he would say to me. I wondered if he’d be proud.

The river curved tightly around a cliff side and the moon disappeared above us. I watched the water carefully, steering the horse nearer to the bank and away from the white-capped water breaking on submerged rocks. We were moving slowly, but tracks through the forest would lead the Svell straight to us, and there was no storm breaking to cover them.

Movement in the trees caught my eye and I looked over my shoulder, pulling back on the reins. Asmund halted his horse behind me and turned, but there was nothing. Only the dark, alive with the night sounds of the forest and everything in it. A prick crept over my skin as I urged the horse forward, following after Kjeld, who was making his way around the bend.

The faint sound of a murmuring prayer on his lips drifted back to meet me. The first time I’d seen him was on the path to Fela, the mountain village where I was born. He’d just joined up with Asmund and the hollow in his cheeks was evidence he’d been starving through the winter. He didn’t speak. He’d hardly even looked at me or my brothers, his attention always on the world around him. As if he could see shadows and hear voices that the rest of us couldn’t. It was the same feeling that came over me watching the girl in the glade, her eyes boring into mine, her hand pressed to her ear.

Aghi told me back then to keep my distance from Kjeld. That the Kyrr were not to be trifled with. I’d heard more than one tale about what happened to anyone who trespassed onto their lands. But apart from the stories whispered about the wild clan in the headlands, Kjeld only seemed like a weary, worn down man. And in the four years he’d been with Asmund, I’d learned next to nothing about him.

“You never told me where he came from.” I spoke lowly, catching Asmund’s eyes in the dark.

He caught up to me, pulling the reins of his horse up higher. “He’s Kyrr. He’s from the headlands.”