The Girl the Sea Gave Back(65)

I made it to the outcropping and pulled myself up over the top with sliding hands, looking down from the vantage point to see the battle stretching through the trees. I pulled another arrow from the quiver at my back, steadying myself on my knees, and sighted down the length of it for the group of Svell breaking the Nādhir line. I listened to the sound of the turning wind like Gunther taught me, measuring the arrow’s path before I let my fingers slip from the string with a pop. The shot struck the shoulder of a man running toward the opening, then another, the rock anchoring below me and my breath keeping my heart from exploding in my chest.

I loosed arrow after arrow, dropping Svell as they ran. But the bow stilled in my hand, my fingers softening on the fletching when I saw a cart behind the back rows of the Svell army in the distance. It was piled high with small wooden barrels. Just like the one Jorrund had used for the stave.

And as if the Spinners wanted me to see it, a sudden flash of lightning lit one face in the fray that I recognized.

Halvard.

He plowed into a woman with a sword, knocking her down as another Nādhir plunged their blade into her chest. When he stood, his face was carved with shadows in the dim light. His brother tossed him an axe and he caught it, turning until his arm was swinging out around him to clip another Svell in the arm. The man cried out, toppling backward and Halvard finished him with one blow before he ran for the Nādhir line, where the Svell were making headway toward the edge of the forest.

They were already close. Too close.

“Halvard!” I screamed, but the sound was swallowed by the thunder. He was too far away.

A woman broke through two men fighting and followed after him, darting through the battle on his heels. She let her axe sink back behind her, ready to throw it, and my mouth dropped open, another scream trapped in my throat.

I didn’t think. I pulled an arrow from my back and lifted my bow. The wind was swirling back and forth, the rain shifting with it. I nocked the arrow and stretched the string back with a steady hand. The calm fell over me, quieting the sounds of the lightning, and I closed my eyes, letting out a long, hot breath. I searched for the sound of the forest before me. The sea behind me. The storm overhead. I watched the route of the arrow in my mind.

And as another strike of lightning cracked open the darkness, I sent it into the air.

The turn of the shaft glowed like a spinning flame across the forest and it sank into the back of her shoulder. She flew forward with the force of the hit and Halvard turned, staring at the arrow in the woman’s back before his gaze lifted, searching the forest until his eyes found me.

“The cart!” I pointed toward the Svell’s line, screaming into the wind.

I threw my feet out, sliding down the rocks until my boots hit the ground, and took off, jumping over the fallen bodies as I pulled another arrow free.

Halvard took hold of the knife at his belt and he shouted my name as he threw it over my head. I ducked, toppling forward, and I hit the ground so hard that it knocked the breath from my lungs.

A man crashed into the mud behind me, Halvard’s knife buried in his chest. He coughed blood as I pulled it free and got back to my feet. The forest turned darker with the furs and leathers of the Svell and Nādhir, the pelt of rain hitting the dead and dying as Halvard reached me, his breath fogging in the cold. All around us, Nādhir warriors were being cut down, the Svell pushing farther toward the tree line with every second that passed. Any moment, they’d be tearing down the hill to the village.

“The cart!” I shouted again.

But he didn’t understand. I took the quiver from my back and pushed it into his hands with the bow before I took his axe.

“What are you doing?” He looked at the bow, confused.

“I’m mending it,” I shouted.

His eyes lifted over my head, to the Svell line. “You’ll be dead before you reach it.”

I smiled, lifting a hand to touch a cut beneath his eye, wiping at the blood with my fingertips. They were so blue. And still, they looked right into me, moving over my face until I could see my own reflection in them. I wanted to remember them. I wanted them to be the last thing I saw.

“I’ve been dead for most of my life, Halvard,” I whispered.

He reached out, but I stepped back before he could touch me.

I turned on my heel and ran for the cart behind the thinning warriors in the distance, the axe heavy in my hands. A man ran at me from the side and I pushed faster, trying to get there before he did. But I wasn’t fast enough. He took two steps before he collided with me and an arrow struck him in the chest, sending him backward.

I jumped over him, my arms pumping at my sides, and another man steered to head me off, an axe lifting over his head. Another arrow soared over me, dropping him in my path, and I looked back over my shoulder to see Halvard, my bow in his hands. He pulled another arrow from his back and I threw every bit of strength I had left forward as the land tipped down toward the cart.

I lifted myself over the rail and landed inside, heaving. The storm was beginning to quell, the rain softening, as I took a barrel of pitch up into my arms and threw it to the ground.

“Tova.”

My hands froze on the next barrel and I could feel his stare landing hard on me before I looked up. Jorrund stood in soaked robes among the fallen bodies at the back of the Svell line, a torch in his hand. They were pushing the Nādhir back blow by blow, shortening the distance to the hill.