Sky in the Deep(18)

Inge leaned over him, wiping at a cut on his neck. She looked small next to his large, solid frame. Fiske glanced at Iri and Inge watched their wordless exchange from the top of her gaze. “Sometimes we bring them back. You know that.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t kill her. She’s pretty.”

Iri sat across the room, a smile breaking onto his face and I cringed, my forehead wrinkling. I didn’t want to think about seeing myself in his face. I didn’t want to think about our mother. About what she would think of Iri now.

“Her hair looks like yours, Iri.”

My heart skipped ahead of my breath and the line of Iri’s shoulders hardened. Fiske stood up, taking his tunic into his hand.

Inge was watching him. “Stay away from her, Halvard.”

“Why?” He set down the jar, his eyebrows coming together. “She’s just a dyr.”

“She’s not just a dyr. She’s Aska,” Fiske corrected.

“Iri’s Aska,” Halvard muttered, his shoulders slumping.

“She’s dangerous, Halvard. Stay away from her.” Fiske waited for the boy to look at him.

He nodded, reluctantly.

Inge was still watching Fiske as she packed the supplies back into the basket on the table. “Which is why it’s interesting that you brought her here.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he slipped the tunic back over his head and picked up his axe before he opened the door and went out into the night. Inge’s eyes traveled over to Iri, but he didn’t look up either. A few minutes later, the hollow pound of an axe and the splintering of wood was echoing against the house.

I pushed back from the edge of my cot and lay back down when the fire pit was nothing but smoldering ashes. Halvard climbed the ladder and I huddled down into my blanket, hidden in the darkness. He flopped down across the loft, fidgeting for a few minutes before his breaths stretched out longer and deeper. He fell asleep with his hand hanging out of his blankets, his fingertips touching the floor.

The door below opened and closed a few minutes later, and Iri lifted himself up over the edge of the loft, stepping over Halvard. He crouched low, looking at him, before he brushed a hand over his hair and stood back up, coming toward me.

“She’s gone,” he whispered, sitting down beside my cot.

He looked down at the collar around my neck, his eyes shifting to avoid mine. “I thought we had more time. I’m sorry.”

I didn’t answer. The last thing I wanted from him was his sympathy.

“It’s only until the thaw, Eelyn. Then we can find a way to get you home. Back to Aghi.”

I rolled onto my back to face him. The glow from the fire pit was too low to see his eyes. “Hylli is home to both of us, Iri.”

He looked away. “Fela is my home now.”

The tightness in my chest strangled me, and I was glad he couldn’t see my face. The only thing that could be worse than losing Iri was knowing that he’d chosen to leave. He was dead all over again. I was alone again, but differently.

“What happened to you?” I whispered. “What happened that day in Aurvanger?”

He looked at me for a long moment, until the door opened again and he stood, making his way to his cot. I pulled up the blankets, staring at the outline of his face as he lay down on his back. The arch of his brow and the angle of his nose were the same as they were when we were children.

Fiske climbed the ladder and settled onto the cot beside mine, prying his boots off and sitting up in the dark. He pulled in a long breath, rubbing his face with both of his hands before he worked his tunic back off and raked his hair up, tying it in a knot.

He lay down, staring at the ceiling a long time, his hands folded on his chest. I watched the thoughts cross his face one at a time until his eyes closed.

My fingertips found the collar and I tried to imagine what my father’s face would look like if he could see me. I blinked and the dread spilled over, drowning the quiet. Because the only thing worse than knowing I was a dyr was the thought of my father knowing it too.





TWELVE


I stared up into the dark long before the others awoke, hearing Iri’s voice in my mind. A man’s voice. I closed my eyes, trying to see the boy I’d run on the beach with as a child. I tried to remember what his voice had sounded like then, but I couldn’t summon it to me. Memories suddenly felt more like dreams, moments stuck between waking and sleeping.

When I heard Inge moving below, I climbed down the ladder, hooking my good arm into each rung, and stood beside the fire pit. My eyes drifted to the stale bread sitting on the table.

“Good morning.” She handed me the fire-steel and I looked down to where it sat in my open palm. My other arm was still tied to my body.

“Oh.” She turned back when she realized. “Sorry, I suppose you can’t do that.”

She reached out to take it back and I closed my fist, turning away from her and walking to the wall beside the door to gather up the wood. She raised an eyebrow at me before going back to the grains on the table. I set up the kindling with one hand at the edge of the fire pit instead of the center. I struck the one piece of the fire-steel against the stone until it sparked, but the kindling didn’t catch. I moved the kindling closer and tried again. This time it lit and I picked up the burning bundle and set it in place before it could snuff out.