Sky in the Deep(66)

Fiske stalked toward us and my father caught him, pulling him back. “Don’t.”

I looked up into Myra’s face, twisted with madness. It was the look she gave our enemy in battle, and now it fell on me. I rolled, coming on top of her, and slammed the butt of my knife into her wrist, trying to free her grip on the axe. She bucked me off, throwing me to the side.

I didn’t give her the chance to swing it again. I threw my knife, watching it spin in the air past her face before it stuck into the trunk of a tree behind her. She froze, staring at me in shock. Her face flashed back and forth between that of the girl I knew better than anyone and that of the deadly warrior who fought by my side. The glimmer of hot tears shone in her eyes as they narrowed at me. And then she was running. She dropped the axe to the ground and when she reached me, she slammed her fist into the side of my face. My head whipped to the side and I plunged into her, knocking her back down.

I hit her. Hard. “What is wrong with you?” I screamed, hitting her again.

She kicked, fighting me, but it was no use. All the strength and rage bled out of her, giving way to something fragile and weak. It filled her eyes until tears spilled over onto her cheeks and she covered her face with her arms, trembling.

“Myra.” I pulled at her arms, trying to see her, and she kicked me off.

When she was on her feet again, she stumbled toward the trees, sobbing.

“Myra!” I reached for her shoulder, trying to turn her around, but she wrenched free, tripping. I took hold of her vest and didn’t let go.

She turned to face me, her kol-rimmed eyes red and swollen. “Are you one of them now too?” she asked, the words broken. “You want to be one of them, like Iri?”

“No!” I met her eyes. “I’m Aska, Myra. I want our people to survive. That’s all.”

She fell into me, burying her face in my shoulder, and I wrapped my arms around her, squeezing. She wept, folding into me, and I held her. My father and Fiske stood as black silhouettes before the fire, watching us.

“I’m alone,” she cried. “You and Aghi are all I have.” Her voice bent into a whisper. “Please don’t leave. Please,” she begged.

I pulled back to look at her. “You’re not alone,” I said, emotion thick in my throat. “And I’m not leaving. Ever.”

Her weight grew heavy in my arms and when I couldn’t hold her any longer, I slid to the ground and pulled her into my lap. “Elska ykkarr,” I whispered into her hair. “Elska ykkarr.”

She cried like I’d never seen her cry and the sound of it echoed through the trees. She cried for her family. For Hylli. For the Aska. For everything. And I cried with her.





FORTY-TWO


Myra trailed far behind us as Fiske led us up the mountain. She hadn’t spoken a word since dawn and neither had Fiske. I walked between them, keeping an eye on her as the snow deepened under our feet.

My father was cumbersome in the snow-covered forest. His massive frame rocked from side to side in front of me as we climbed the slope. The quiet that had fallen over him was like a burden being dragged behind us. I couldn’t tell where his heart was. I knew he was happy that Iri was alive, but the warrior in my father probably wanted to kill him. More than that, guilt would follow both of us for the rest of our lives. We had left Iri and there was no changing it.

The way back up the mountain was different than the way down. Fiske led us through blue icy caverns as the snow started to fall again. The ice rose up around us like waves frozen in midair, the sound of our footsteps bouncing around us as we walked.

I knew we were close when the trees opened up into a grassy clearing studded with tall, frosted stalks of yarrow. Their leaves had turned yellow against the worst of the cold and the heads of the flowers had grown brittle in the days since I was last there. I ran a hand over the tops as we cut through the thick of them, remembering the way Halvard ducked behind their height, spying on me as I worked on my hands and knees in the dirt. I caught one in my fingers, plucking it up and pulling it into my cloak.

The trail that led into the village came into view ahead as the forest turned dark. Fiske stopped us, raising a hand. “I’ll signal them. They know we’re coming.”

Myra looked around him down the path.

“We’re keeping our weapons.” My father’s grip tightened on his belt.

Fiske nodded, but the unease in their faces wasn’t hidden. It was the same unease bubbling up inside of me. I was leading my family into the den of the enemy.

“Iri’s in there?” My father stared in the direction of the village.

“He is.” I tried to soothe the voice of doubt inside of me.

“I want to see him. I want to see him first.”

Fiske nodded, stepping forward, and he whistled into the trees. We waited silently, my heart pounding, until a whistle sounded back. “We’ll meet them in the ritual house.”

“No.” My father’s tone turned sharp.

I shook my head at Fiske. My father was a superstitious man. There was nothing that would convince him to step foot into a ritual house for Thora.

“My house then,” Fiske agreed.

My father and Myra both freed their axes from their sheaths, stepping heavier into their feet as we walked. I did the same, finding my axe with my fingertips at my back. When we finally broke into view, my steps faltered, my eyes going wide. It was dark, but the homes were lit like little fires in a winding trail and more Riki were camped in every open space. They covered every inch of the village.