Sky in the Deep(44)

It flew like wind, silent until it stuck into the back of the man on the right and he fell flat. The other man paused, looking up to us. And then he ran.

I slid down the decline, pulling the knife from the first man’s back, and looked up, tracking the second one.

Then everything stopped.

Everything went still. The sound of breathing roared in my ears. The trees swirled around me. I squinted, trying to focus. Trying to will what I was seeing into something else. But there was no mistaking the hilt of an Aska sword. The red-tinged leather of an Aska scabbard. And that could only mean one thing. That the Herja had been to the fjord.

I didn’t think. I didn’t breathe. I ran.

I pulled the last bit of the energy within me up and out of myself, throwing my body forward into the trees. Toward the fleeing shadow. He turned back as he ran, watching me gain on him, just long enough to lose his footing and slam into a tree. He rolled when I came down on him and I pinned him with my knees, clutching his hair in my hands to make him face me.

“Where did you get that sword?” My panicked voice was a hoarse whisper.

He looked up at me, clenching his teeth.

“Where did you get it?” I slammed his head back into the ground and he groaned.

Fiske and the Tala reached us, coming to stand over me. There was no one in sight, but if he shouted, the Herja might hear him.

I couldn’t kill him. Not yet.

I reached across my body and let all my weight fall with the butt of the knife, knocking it into the side of the Herja’s head. He went still beneath me, his head rolling to one side.

“It’s … these are Aska leathers,” I sputtered, my throat tight.

“I know.” Fiske set Halvard down and the Tala slid one arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. “We’ll take him.”

He grabbed one leg and I wiped my face before I grabbed the other. We dragged him through the forest, the Tala and Halvard walking ahead.

“They’ve been to the fjord.” I grunted against the Herja’s weight, my legs weak.

“Maybe.”

Before I could answer, the sound of Fela reached us through the trees.

The first of the morning light rose up over the mountain, turning the village the deep purple of a day-old bruise. Smoke trailed up from some of the homes still burning and bodies were strung out along the main path. Every few steps, the snow was spattered red.

The Tala looked over her shoulder to Fiske, her lips parting.

We dragged the Herja until we neared the house and I swallowed hard. It was quiet and I didn’t know what that meant. What it might do to me. The sky and the earth were both pulling at every piece of me, making me feel thin. Like I was going to rip in two.

I dropped the leg of the Herja and pushed through the door. Inge’s scream broke the silence. She lunged forward, catching Halvard in her arms and sinking to the floor, her face so twisted and broken I almost couldn’t recognize her.

My eyes darted around the room until they found him.

Iri.

Standing at the end of the table, his face red. His eyes wet. Hair sticking to the side of his face.

A sob broke loose from my chest and I ran to him. I fell into his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around me, lifting my feet from the ground. I tried to breathe, taking the air in slowly and willing my heart to calm.

He let me go, reaching for Fiske and kissing the side of his face. The air in his chest hissed out as he pulled him into his arms. “I thought … we thought…” He shook his head. “We couldn’t find your bodies.”

Behind him, Runa leaned against the wall, her knees pulled up into her chest. She stared into the fire blankly, a trail of tears striping her soot-covered face.

Inge still sat on the floor, her arms wrapped around Halvard and crying into his hair. She whispered into his ear, holding him close, and he nodded against her, sniffing back the tears. The dried blood crusted down beneath his nose and a ring of raw skin encircled his neck where the rope had been. When she pulled back from him, she looked at it, pressing on each side of his nose with her thumbs as he looked up at the ceiling. A dark bruise had already bloomed under both eyes.

“What is this?” Iri looked down to the Herja lying outside the door.

Inge gasped, pulling Halvard closer.

I ran a hand through my hair, my fingernails scratching against my shorn scalp. “They’ve been to the Aska.”

His face went slack and his eyes widened, filling with whatever had been there when I came through the door. Asking the question that I couldn’t answer.

I leaned into the table, rubbing my face with my rough, blistered hands, and looked around the room, my muscles jumping around my bones. My blood still running fast. It was the way my body slowly calmed after battle. The way my mind raced in a million directions, trying to find something to latch onto. As my breaths grew longer, the pain began to surface in my shoulder again. I pulled my armor vest aside to look at it.

“Let me see.” Inge finally let Halvard go and rose to her feet.

Runa still sat against the wall, silent.

“Her father.” Inge met my eyes, speaking lowly.

My stomach roiled, my mind hovering over the only thought in my head. My father. The Aska.

Fiske set a hand on Inge’s shoulder. “You should go up to the ritual house. The wounded will be there.”

My eyes were still on the Herja’s boots in the doorway.