Sky in the Deep(63)

“How long?” my father said.

“Two days. Maybe three, depending on the snow,” Fiske answered.

Behind us, Espen and Hagen were already pulling a boat down from the riggings on the rock ceiling.

“You’ll meet us in Aurvanger.” My father met my eyes before he turned toward the boats.

Fiske bristled.

I fell into step beside my father, speaking lowly. “I’m going with you.”

He peered down at me, his forehead wrinkling. “Why? You just came from there. You just got home.”

“This isn’t home.”

“Myra will go. You will stay.”

“I know the leaders. I know the village. You need me there.” I held his gaze, trying not to let him see too much. But he could. He always could. And whatever he caught a glimpse of, he didn’t like. “Please.”

He looked out at the water, thinking. And then over his shoulder, to Espen. “Alright.” He chose to trust me. I wondered if it would be the last time.

Fiske slung our saddlebags over his shoulder and followed him to the boat, where Hagen stood knee-deep in the water, holding it in place as we climbed in. Myra watched me, biting the inside of her cheek. I knew that look. She was worried.

I gave her a small smile, but she didn’t look reassured. Her eyes moved to Fiske and then back to me, in a question. One I didn’t answer. Because I could never make her understand something I didn’t understand myself.

My father took her hands and pulled her inside.

“You don’t have to come,” I said, sliding over to make room for her.

She took an oar into her hands, sitting down as the boat rocked. “The only family I have left is in this boat.”

We floated out into the deep, away from Espen and Hagen standing on shore. Espen looked to my father and something silent was exchanged between them. When my father’s eyes skidded over me, toward the river, my heart twisted. I could feel him pull away from me. I knew when he was hiding something.

I looked back to Hagen and Espen, but they were already gone. Fiske studied my father. He hadn’t missed it either.

We watched the cliffs as we floated through the gorge, the river stretched out before and behind us. Myra kept one paddle in the water, steering us against the current to keep us from the rocks while my father used the other to direct the front of the boat. The river went around bend after bend until we reached a shallow stretch and my father got out to guide the boat to shore. Fiske and I jumped into the water, helping him pull it up onto the sand of a little bank at the bottom of another cliff, and Myra climbed out behind us.

Rocks skipped down the side of the cliff as a rope ladder unrolled above us. The end of it slapped against the wet ground as three men leaned over the edge above. Fiske climbed first and when his feet went up over the top, my father held the ladder. I fit my hands and my boots onto the frayed rope rungs.

His eyes still avoided mine.

“What are you planning with Espen?”

Myra came up from the water and handed a bag to my father. She looked between us.

He looked up to the cliff’s edge where Fiske had just disappeared. “Our loyalty is to the Aska, Eelyn. You know that.”

“She knows, Aghi.” Myra squared her shoulders at me, standing behind my father.

I searched his face. “I do. But we need the Riki. You see that, don’t you?”

Above, Fiske’s head reappeared over the cliff.

“Let’s go.” My father dismissed me.

I pulled myself up, wincing at the sharp pain in my arm, and when I reached the top, Fiske took hold of my armor vest and lifted me up onto the ground.

He looked at my shoulder. “Let me look at it.”

“Later.” I turned back to watch my father and Myra at the bottom.

Fiske leaned over beside me, his words low so that only I could hear. “I won’t take your people to Fela if I can’t trust them. You need to tell him about Iri.”

I knew he was right. But I knew my father. “It might break him.”

Fiske caught my eyes. “It might sway him.”





FORTY


We followed the sea cliffs back in the direction of Fela. Myra and my father walked together behind us, leaning into the wind coming up off the water, and Fiske led, walking ahead without looking back at us. My father and Myra didn’t say anything when I gave Fiske back his weapons, but I could tell by the way they watched him fit his scabbard around his waist that they didn’t like it.

The mountain came into view as the fog burned off the land. The shadowed outline of it loomed over us, looking down as if it could see us. As if Thora was watching us. Listening. Fiske looked small before it and I imagined what we must look like from up there, four tiny figures moving against a winter sea.

Me between Fiske and the others.

Between Aska and Riki.

We made camp before we reached the valley and no one spoke as we built the fire and laid out our cloaks onto the ground. The nights were getting warmer every day but they would grow colder again as we made our way back toward Fela. Remembering the cold made me shiver. I could still remember the blue, night-shrouded forest that had almost taken my life the night Thorpe tried to kill me.

I slid my saddlebag from my arm carefully, trying to keep the pain at bay.

“Let me.” Fiske reached for my arm but my father was already stepping forward to stand between us. Fiske dropped his hand, lifting his chin toward my shoulder. “She’s torn it open.”