Sky in the Deep(45)

Inge nodded, looking to Runa. “You’re right.”

Runa stood, still empty in the eyes. She went for the basket on the table and pulled it onto her arm, waiting for Inge with a blank stare falling on the door. But Inge didn’t move until I looked at her. She waited for my eyes to lift and when they did, she took my face into her hands and pressed her warm cheek against mine, her breath running over the side of my face. She held me, folding her arms around me and pulling me tightly against her.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

And the glacier inside of me cracked. It roared as it broke and fell into the icy waters around my heart. “You’re welcome.”





TWENTY-EIGHT


I held Halvard’s head in my lap on the table so that Fiske could set his nose. When the tears slid down the sides of his face, I brushed them away with the back of my hands.

Iri helped him stand, pulling the tunic over his head, and I went back to the doorway, counting the bodies as the Riki dragged them out onto the path and separated them. There were more Riki than Herja. Of that, I was sure.

I stood over the Herja we dragged through the forest, waiting. He was a big, hard-looking man, his clothes soiled deep and shredded at the edges. They’d been traveling for some time, living on the move. But the Aska leathers weren’t as worn. If they’d been to Hylli, it had been recent.

“My mother doesn’t want him here. She’s afraid.” Fiske tried to unbuckle his armor vest, wincing at it with his arm half lifted over the fire.

“Here.” I reached for him.

He turned, giving me his side, and I took his wrist and set his forearm up onto my shoulder to hold it up. I pulled at the clasps gently, prying the side of the armor vest open and ducking down to lift up his tunic at the side, over his ribs.

He pulled in tight breaths as it came into view—a wide spread of dark blood beneath the skin. I lifted my hand to feel the bones with my fingertips and his head tilted back, his eyes pinching closed. I’d spent a month nursing an injury just like this in Aurvanger. “They’re broken.”

He laughed, surprising me. “I know.”

I straightened, looking up at him. I hadn’t really seen him smile before. The side of his face pulled, revealing a dimple at the corner of his mouth, and I looked away, feeling my cheeks flush. I set his arm back down, unclasping the other side of the vest and helping him work it off with my eyes on the ground.

“The night I found you in the forest…” His voice dropped to a whisper.

I took his vest into my arms. “What?”

“You said ‘Herja.’”

The sound of a grunt came through the door and my eyes snapped back up to the boots. Moving.

I dropped the vest on the table and stepped one foot in front of the other, pulling the knife from my belt. When the sunlight hit my face, I stepped into the snow and looked down at him. He rolled over, holding the side of his head that was bleeding.

“Iri!” I called into the house and the Herja’s eyes popped open.

Iri came through the door, pulling the Herja by his armor vest and sliding him over the ground to sit up.

I waited for him to look back at me. His head hung, his eyes studying his surroundings. They landed on the dyr collar around my neck just as Fiske stepped out of the house, one hand tucked into his bruised side.

“Where did you get the Aska armor?” I crouched down in front of him, speaking quietly.

His eyes still travelled past me, looking around us. He was trying to gauge his chances.

I gripped the knife tighter in my hand. “Where did you get the armor?”

He pressed his lips together, leaning his head back. A small smile lifted at the corners of his mouth.

I dragged my arms up over me and slammed them down, sinking the blade of the knife into the thick of his thigh. He howled, writhing as I yanked it free, and he looked up with spit flying out of his mouth, gaping at me.

“Why do you have Aska armor?” I yelled, flinging the blade to the side to flick the blood onto the ground.

His breath punched in and out of his lungs as he bit down, glaring.

I stabbed him again, finding the flesh in the other leg and going deeper. He shrieked louder, and I twisted the blade. The knife pulled up again, tearing through the skin and muscle, and he lunged for me. Iri got hold of his vest, rolling him onto his back, and I kneeled over him. But the ferocity in his face was only growing.

I grabbed his hair, holding his head to the ground, and tossed my knife to Fiske’s feet. Iri held him in place and he squirmed beneath me, kicking. I listened to the sound of my heart over the sound of boots crunching in the ground behind me. A growing crowd of Riki stood on the path watching, their faces drawn with horror. They’d heard the stories, but they hadn’t seen a Herja until last night. To the Riki, they were only legend. To me, they were the demons who killed my mother. Destroyed my father.

Before he could roll again, I pressed my thumb into the inside corner of his eye and dug until I could feel the warm, wet muscle and tissue. He bucked and I leaned all of my weight down onto him as I pried my thumb up, popping his eyeball from its socket. When I had it clasped in my hand, I yanked it free.

His mouth opened wide, the cry trapped in his chest.

“Where did you get the armor?” I screamed, pressing my thumb to the other eye.

“We raided the Aska!” he wailed, choking.