The Girl the Sea Gave Back(48)

“Come, there’s much to do.”

I watched him walk away, the stares of the Nādhir so heavy on me that they seemed to pin me to the ground. I couldn’t move. I almost couldn’t breathe.

Myra gave me a small smile, her eyes still glistening as she held out an open hand to me. “Time to go, Halvard.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE


TOVA


The eastern valley opened like a new world unfolding.

The sweet, familiar smell of pine faded, giving way to the cutting scent of spring, and the earth turned green beneath us as we left the borderlands. The fjord changed the land, rivers weaving like roots down the mountain on their way to the sea. It was different than the dense forests of Svell territory, where the land dropped off abruptly from crude cliffs into the wide, open water. Here, everything was hedged in, the coast curving up and around and the fjord holding Hylli like a mother holds her child.

It was beautiful.

The Svell were quiet as we moved through the fog in a dark horde of leathers and furs. Every whisper was snuffed out by the growing wind, pushing in from the sea where dark clouds gathered on the horizon. The first of the vio lent spring storms was on its way, just in time to wash the land of the blood that would be spilled in Hylli.

The army slowed as we reached the hill that looked out over the fjord. The mist was still thick in the air, but it was there. The village sat on the water in the distance, only barely visible over the forest where the silver sea met the land in a crooked line.

It was more like the headlands than Liera was. The memories of the place I was born were stretching into full visions more and more, and I could see them with more detail than I had even the day before. But the Kyrr were less clear, only the shape of the woman before the fire taking hold among the pictures of the village or the water. I blinked past the tears that sprang to my eyes when I thought of her. It pinched in the center of my gut, making me almost wish she hadn’t surfaced from the depths of my mind. Because whoever she was, she’d probably been the one to give me to the sea. And that was a moment I was afraid of remembering.

The army slowed as we reached the other side of the hill. The tents were unrolled and the carts unloaded as the warriors settled in for a last night’s sleep before war. If they won the battle in Hylli, it would be followed by smaller ones on the mountain and in the bottomlands, until they’d scoured the territory of the Nādhir that called it home.

Jorrund set the posts for our tent and I slid a corner of the canvas over them. I held it in place as he pounded a stake into the soft ground, but he didn’t meet my eyes. He hadn’t spoken to me since the night before, when I told him that we were wrong for the course we’d taken, and I wondered if I’d made an even greater mistake in telling him about my vision when I took the henbane. But it was hard to imagine that anything that would befall me could be worse than what had already happened. In fact, I no longer cared. The only thing that mattered to me now was keeping Halvard alive. I hadn’t listened to the Spinners when I left Liera with the Svell and I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. They’d placed Halvard like a star in the constellation that made up my fate, and I would find a way to end what I’d started. I had to.

“This is an important night.” Jorrund finally spoke, driving the last stake into the ground between us. “The eye of Eydis is watching and we need her favor to finish this.”

I listened silently, pressing the tip of my finger against the blade of Halvard’s axe at my belt.

“I know I can rely on you,” he said, getting back to his feet.

He left me where I sat in the cool grass, the wind picking up the length of my skirt and lifting it into the air. I knew what he was asking. What he wanted. But I wouldn’t cast the stones for him again. Not ever.

The tents popped up in neat rows on the hillside and the night fires were lit, making the camp come to life with orange light. Jorrund took a barrel from a cart as the Svell gathered in the dark, forming large rings around an open circle of green grass, and he held his hand out before me, nodding to Halvard’s axe at my hip.

I gave it to him and watched as he used it to split the wood of the barrel’s top and the strong smell of pitch filled the damp air. He handed the axe back to me, his attention on the ground beneath his feet as he mapped it in his mind. Once every Svell man and woman was in place, he began in the very center of the circle, tipping the barrel forward until the pine tar spilled out in a thick, steady stream. He stepped backward slowly, careful to keep the line straight, and began painting the symbol onto the grass. The Svell watched him in the growing wind as he moved left around the circle and back in, the intricate pattern visible only to him.

A larger barrel was cracked open on the back of a cart and the ale was poured until every Svell warrior had a horn to drink from. When Jorrund was finished, he stood at the north point of the hill, a lit torch in his hand. Every eye fell upon him, every word hushed as he lifted the flame to the sky.

“Eydis!” he roared, the sound muted by the howl of the wind.

I could see the trepidation in his eyes. I could hear the fear in his voice. But looking at the faces around me, I seemed to be the only one.

“We call upon you! We ask for your protection and your favor as we take the fjord!”

The wind whipped around him, the torch flame shifting violently, and every horn of ale lifted into the air except for mine. The jumbled shouts of the warriors all bled together, each man and woman calling out to an ancestor to request the use of their shield in battle.