Beyond a Darkened Shore(46)

Arinbjorn shook off his daze and tried to push himself up.

“Run,” I shouted at Arinbjorn. “Find Leif.”

I pushed myself upright again, furious at the thought that I’d been knocked down not once but twice. I gave the stubborn boy a shove toward the castle before meeting another head-on assault from the Northman.

I felt his flesh give way to my sharp pitchfork, and I stumbled back. He glanced down at the protruding wood from his side and pulled it free as though it were merely a thorn. After snapping it in half, he threw it on the ground at my feet with a taunting grin. His eyes locked onto mine, finally giving me the opportunity I needed to reach out with my mind.

It was like being plunged into pitch-black darkness, like finding myself lost in a strange wood during a moonless night. A flood of vile emotions crashed over me: loathing, hunger for flesh, bloodlust. He wanted to tear me apart and eat the flesh from my bones.

I struggled to maintain control of his mind, but it was as slippery as an eel. And strong. There was no way a mind this strong was that of a mere mortal.

His hands shot out and wrapped around my slim throat. He lifted me until we were eye level, my legs kicking uselessly. I clawed at his hands. I pried at his fingers. My lungs burned, desperate for air.

I will not die, I shouted in my mind. I will not be eaten.

I clung to the weak hold I had on his mind until the pain in my head was like repeated blows from a hammer. Black spots appeared on the edges of my vision. I would lose consciousness soon, and then it would all be over.

My eyes closed against my will.

Then a great door appeared in my mind, bright light shining behind it. It was a dying girl’s hallucination, but I was still drawn to it. All at once, I remembered the seer’s words to me: that my power was a door. I still didn’t understand, but a part of me reached forward, the darkness all but taking over my vision, my body dying for lack of air. I wrenched the door open.

I drowned in a sea of light.

But then I could see in startling clarity. Again, I was above it all, looking down upon the carnage like a bird. I watched the Northman choke the life from me. I watched my legs continue to kick to no avail.

My body was lit up like the sun, but the Northman was darkness itself. His body was smoke, black and fathomless. But in the very center was a pulsing red spot. I was drawn to it as I was drawn to the door. The arms of my body had no strength left, but this form, this floating ghostly form, had limitless power. I reached into the very core of his chest and grasped the red energy. It beat against my hand like a frightened bird, and I squeezed, crushing it in my fist.

In a rush, I returned to my true body. The Northman’s hands fell away from my neck, and I hit the ground, gasping for breath.

With a groan, I rolled to my knees, only to collapse again with a coughing fit. After a moment, I forced myself up again and stumbled toward the Northman.

He was prostrate on his back. His eyes stared at the sky, cloudy and unseeing. I watched for several heartbeats, and his chest rose and fell shallowly. It was clear that he was dying.

A jagged piece of the pitchfork handle remained. Without a moment’s hesitation, I staked the Northman through the heart. He made not a single sound as the life left his body. I thought of Aideen, and of Leif’s innocent sister, both slaughtered like animals. A chill of unease spread over me at this new power, but when I looked at Aideen’s abused body, I could only feel relief that her murderer was dead.

Now the deed was done, the energy seemed to leave me all at once, and I swayed on my feet. My body ached as though I’d been trampled by wild horses, but I forced myself back toward the castle. I had to be sure Arin was safe, and Leif would need to be told; the other Northman would have to be dealt with—hang the consequences.

The sounds of minstrels and the smells of roasting boar and freshly baked bread signaled the feast was well under way in the great hall by the time I made my way there. I cracked the door, aware that my gown was torn, dirt and blood had formed a paste on my arms and face, and my hair would be more fitting for a banshee. Every breath was searing pain through my injured throat, but this was no time to rest and recover. At first glance, I couldn’t find Leif in the room full of merrymakers and the bustling Dubhlinn court.

By the grace of God, Arinbjorn walked into my line of sight, and I waved to catch his attention. He hurried to my side. “I’ve been searching for my brother but have only just discovered he is in private conference with the king,” he said in a rush. “Are you unhurt? You look . . .” He winced. “You look relatively whole.”

“I’m sure I look terrible, but at least I’m not dead,” I said, my voice rough with the damage done to my throat. “I won’t be able to enter the great hall looking like this, but we must find the other man who was that monster’s companion. Have you seen him?”

Arinbjorn shook his head. “No. I searched the entire hall for Leif, and I would have noticed that man.”

My stomach dropped at the news. Whose flesh was he feasting on if not the boar’s? “Do you know where Leif and the king are speaking?”

“One of the servants told me. It’s not far.” He strode away, and I followed as best I could, my lungs protesting every breath.

Arin halted in front of a thick wooden door. When he lifted his hand to knock, I stopped him and put my finger to my mouth in a sign of silence. Voices drifted out from the room, both of which were familiar to me.