Beyond a Darkened Shore(77)

I frowned deeply. “Let’s hope it doesn’t.”

As Leif and their men made their final arrangements, I took one final look at Dubhlinn and prayed it wouldn’t be my last.

Despite my trepidation, when it came time to set sail, the excitement and pride of Leif’s men flowed through me, as energizing as a lightning storm. On each ship, thirty men rowed us out of port, while forty undead men clustered together at the stern. They would need no shelter nor food, and even the space they occupied was minimal, as they never moved. The seer was also on board with us and had chosen a place to sit far from everyone else—by the cage of ravens. Leif had made sure she was on the same ship as I was. I hoped I could make use of my time by practicing my abilities—I had a fortnight to master them.

Leif and I stood at the bow of the ship, and when the great square sail bearing his insignia was lowered at last, a feeling like joy took flight within me. The ship glided forward on the relatively calm waters of the port, Leif’s ship the point of the V formation they’d all assumed. Still, I couldn’t help but glance back at the coast of éirinn, fading faster as the wind grabbed hold of the sail.

Arin held on to the mast and crowed with unchecked delight. Leif’s face split into a grin, and even the most battle-hardened men jostled and spoke with each other as cheerfully as if it were their first voyage as well. Leif pulled me down next to him to sit and reached out to catch the water’s spray. With blue skies above, and the waters relatively calm, it was easy to relax.

“Will you tell me of your land?” I asked, watching the sunlight dance across the water.

“What do you wish to know?”

“Anything. I want to know what to expect.”

“There are mountains and lakes, rivers and fjords, but it isn’t as cold as you might think,” he said, and I could hear the faint smile he wore as he spoke of his homeland. “The water is bluer than the sky, and every child is born knowing how to sail a ship. Water is our life source, but we farm, too.”

“Are you a farmer as well as a sailor?” I asked, a teasing note in my voice.

“My father owns land, yes, which will one day be mine, but I wouldn’t say I’m a farmer.”

“Then you’re a sell-sword who owns land?”

He let out a short laugh. “I’m not a sell-sword either. I owe no one fealty but my father, who is jarl.”

“Jarl?”

“Your people call them earls. He is jarl of a village half the size of Skien. It’s how I came to have so many ships and men to sail them.”

I stared at him in surprise. “How have I not heard talk of this?”

“Titles are not as important in the north. We judge a man more by his prowess on the battlefield. The men and women of the north are freemen, and freemen can make their own way in life. If you earn enough on raids, you can become a landowner with riches enough to be jarl.”

His words seemed to strike me in the chest. Monasteries burned and desecrated, holy men slaughtered, piles of stolen treasure. “The earnings from raids,” I said slowly, “you mean . . . all the treasure you have stolen and killed for?”

His face darkened like a sudden storm. “We do not steal. There are few things worse than a thief.”

“Forgive me. I fail to see the difference.”

“The victors of a battle deserve the spoils. You took Sigtrygg’s sword and crown; would you call yourself a thief?”

Anger flared within me at the accusation, white-hot, but just as quickly, it faded. Was I not equally violent? Had I not killed and destroyed? There were five graves behind us to remind me of my true nature, and countless others that were unmarked from years in battle. There was a darkness within me, and how could there not be? My mother was the Morrigan.

“I suppose you have a point,” I conceded grudgingly.

He grinned. “I can only imagine how much of a struggle it was for you to admit that.”

I nudged my shoulder into his but couldn’t hide my own answering smile. It was little wonder we were so drawn to each other. We weren’t so different.

Leif put his arm around me, and again I was struck by how relaxed he looked. I turned my attention to the sea, surprised by the beauty of the sky and the water. I’d seen it from the shore all my life, but there was something about the sparkling splendor of the sun on the waves that intensified the natural beauty.

The throaty croaking of ravens pulled me from my reverie of the water, and I looked up to find the seer watching me.

“Should I go now to speak with Sigrid?” I asked Leif.

One of the men seated across from us, Thorin, overheard. “It seems we’re risking the wrath of Njord by having two women on board who practice seidr.”

Leif gave him a hard look. “We’re lucky to have such powerful abilities on board. No more talk of them as though they’re cursed—not on my ship.”

Thorin returned his attention to the sea, and I turned to Leif. “What does seidr mean?” I asked.

“It’s difficult to explain,” he said, and fell into a thoughtful silence. Then he added, “There are many aspects of seidr . . . but I’ve seen you demonstrate most of them.”

A jolt of surprise ran through me. “There are others who can do the things I’ve done? There is a name for it?”

He shifted again as if uncomfortable. “Rarely. It’s a . . . dark art. Most are wary of someone who practices it because it’s a magic that affects the mind by illusion, magic, or control.”