The Girl the Sea Gave Back(49)

But there was no one I could call upon. No one who was listening. Instead, I made my plea to the Spinners. I asked for their forgiveness. I begged for their help.

Every gaze cast upward to the darkening sky and they drank, ale trailing down beards and soaking into tunics. It was then that Jorrund dropped the torch at his feet and the flame caught the pitch, writhing over the grass in the paths he’d laid until the entire stave was afire.

The Skj?ldr.

It was an ancient symbol, the shield of the fallen Svell warrior. And here, in the valley that overlooked Hylli, they were calling upon the spirits of the dead to fight alongside them on the battlefield.

Beside me, Gunther’s face was illuminated by the flames of the burning Skj?ldr, the empty horn still clutched in his hand.

“Who do you call upon?” I asked, taking a drink of the sour ale.

His expression turned suspicious at the question. “My son. Aaro.”

I dropped my eyes, wishing I hadn’t asked. “I’m sorry.”

He said nothing, his gaze returning to the Skj?ldr. The warriors stood around it, their horns still lifted in the air as they prayed, and I wondered if the people in Hylli could see it from the fjord.

“What village do you come from?”

“H?lkn,” he answered, more easily.

Of course he did. Vigdis was the village leader of H?lkn and he’d asked Gunther to watch me because he trusted him. But even though he had the new Svell chieftain’s trust, Gunther hadn’t told him the truth after Utan. And though he hated me, he’d helped me before, too. There was more to his story than maybe even Vigdis knew.

“You lied last night.”

He stared ahead, his face unchanging.

“Why did you tell Vigdis that you killed the Nādhir?”

A woman came by with the barrel of ale, and Gunther held out his horn for her to refill. As soon as she moved down the line, he took a long drink. “Because that’s what he needed to hear. And I think you saved that boy’s life for a reason.”

I froze, my teeth clenched, unsure if I’d heard him right. But when I looked back up, it was clear by the look on his face that he knew what I’d done. “You saw me?”

“No, but I’m not a fool. I know the look of a man when he’s been dead for hours.”

“I don’t understand. Why would you lie for me?”

“I didn’t lie for you. I lied for them.” He tipped his drink to the circle of Svell before us.

“You don’t want to fight the Nādhir, do you?” I took a chance in asking it. It had been painted on his face since we’d left the glade.

“There’s no need to go looking for war. War is faithful to come looking for us time and again.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because my fealty is to the Svell.”

“Even if they’re wrong?”

He looked down at me then, his mouth pressing into a hard line. “You know as well as I do that this started when you cast the stones.”

I couldn’t argue with that, but I still recoiled at the words as he said them. I felt the weight of it in every bone. And looking at Gunther now, I wondered if he felt some of that weight, too. He was the one who’d helped me all those years ago. In a way, he’d kept me alive when most others wanted me dead. Maybe he regretted it now. Maybe he was paying penance.

“I’m here to wield my blade at my clansmen’s side.”

“I didn’t know this would happen,” I said, taking another drink.

“If you can really see the future in the runes, then find a way to change it.”

He met my eyes for a long moment and for an instant, I could see what lay there. The pain of someone who’d lost something. The wishing that things had turned out differently. He was old enough to be my father and I wondered if he had daughters my age at home in H?lkn, waiting for him. But there was also a loneliness in him that made me think that maybe he didn’t.

Before I could say anything else, he moved back into the men behind him, leaving me alone. When I looked up, Jorrund watched me with the light of the fire aglow on his face.

I found the string beneath my tunic and wound my finger into it, lifting the weight of the rune stones where they hung against my chest. I wanted to believe that the fate of the Svell was carved into the Tree of Urer and that it wouldn’t change. That they’d somehow meet their end in Hylli. But I could hear it in the sudden silence of the sky. I could see it in the stillness of the Nādhir village glowing far over the forest. It didn’t matter what the stones said.

Nothing was sure until death came.





CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO


HALVARD


I unclasped my armor vest and pulled it off, dropping it onto the table beside my tunic. The pain in my side reignited and I hissed as Myra inspected it in the firelight. The infection had slowed, but it would be a weakness in battle. One I probably couldn’t afford.

She cleaned it with a steaming cloth before she took my mother’s salve from the shelf and lathered it on, not bothering to be gentle. I groaned at her touch and when I looked down, I realized she was smiling. It was a punishment for making her worry. She glared at me from the top of her gaze, securing the bandage in place.

Myra had never been motherly in nature and though she’d had several lovers through the years, she’d never had children. Instead, she’d made my nieces her own, spending every afternoon of the last summer teaching Náli how to use a sword. Isla spent most of her days following Myra around the village from morning to night.