Sky in the Deep(9)

He waved a hand at the driver as he came to his side, handing him the water. I clutched onto the railing with numb fingers, watching them talk as the horse walked alongside the cart. My heart kicked up, my eyes darting from the horse back to the archer. His quiver of arrows was still fixed to the saddle.

I sat up just enough to look back over the rail. Most of the Riki were off their horses.

I gathered up a handful of hay from beneath me and slipped my hand through the slats, holding it out to the horse. When he spotted it, he rocked his head and took a step toward me.

The men were still talking as I reached for the reins, closing my eyes and murmuring a prayer under my breath. I looked at Iri one last time and, and as if he felt my gaze, his eyes shot back to me. They went wide as I threw myself up and over the rail, landing on the saddle. I slid, my weight falling to one side, and caught myself as the animal reared up.

“Aska!” the driver roared.

I kicked the horse with the heel of my boot and stood in the stirrups, leaning forward to keep my body as low as possible, while chaos exploded around the clearing. From the right, Riki were already running in the distance, weapons drawn as they disappeared into the trees to head me off. It was the only way I could go. If I didn’t get into the trees, the archers would have me.

I shouted, urging the horse faster.

Ahead, Iri’s horse was running with no rider, spooked by the commotion. Iri stood with his hands dropped by his side, eyes bewildered. Behind him, Fiske jumped up onto his horse and took off in the same direction I was headed.

The shriek of an arrow flew past me, striking a tree, and the splinters flew into the air as I passed. I tried to get lower. The Riki were like stones rolling across the overgrowth, coming at me with the same faces I saw on the battlefield the day before. Feet pounding into the ground. Weapons swinging.

I cleared the tree line, swallowed up by the cool of the forest, and looked back.

Fiske was already in my line of sight as I glanced back to the river. He rode in fast, lifting his bow from where it was tucked against his horse, and I cursed. He slowed, falling back as he yanked an arrow free from his saddle, and pulled back on the string. The shot was clear.

The wet pop in my left shoulder sounded in my ears and the forest went quiet around me as I looked down to see the head of an arrow pushing through the leather of my armor vest. The horse kicked up, tilting, and I fell back, landing on the ground so hard it knocked the air from my lungs.

I rolled onto my right side, trying to pull my feet under me, but I still couldn’t breathe. The trees above me swayed, bending over each other in my vision as my stomach roiled. The shouting stopped and I pressed my face into the damp dirt, panting and coughing.

Fiske’s boots hit the ground in front of my face as he dismounted and the sound of more footsteps filled my head.

He reached down, snatching up a handful of my hair, and pulled me to my feet. From the corner of my eye, I could see the others taking hold of the horse’s reins. I moaned, the arrow wedged through my shoulder joint radiating a hot pain down into my arm, neck, and back. I tried to swallow it down as he pulled me, my braids tangled in his fist, back toward the clearing.

Where Iri was waiting.





SIX


I pulled at the ropes tying my hands and feet to the cart with blistering fingers, trying to hold myself still on my right side as it rocked and swayed over the uneven ground. The arrow was still threaded between my bones, the pain so deep now that I could feel it spreading through my entire body.

Iri rode behind, watching me, and I gave up trying to read the look on his face so I could focus every ounce of strength I had left on keeping still. When darkness fell and the cart began to slow, I watched fires light through half-opened eyes and was asleep before the camp quieted.

Morning came a wheezing breath later. I swallowed against a raw throat and listened to the Riki come awake, putting out fires and readying their horses. I bit down so hard I thought my teeth might break when we started moving again, hooking my arms and legs into the rails of the cart to brace myself.

The white-hot heat in my shoulder ached all the way into my ears, making my head feel like it was going to crack open. I didn’t look for Iri again. The only thing cutting deeper than the agony of the arrow was the knowledge that he was a traitor. That he was alive. All this time.

Hours passed in between waking and sleeping until I wasn’t sure if I was dead or alive. The cart slowed again and the crunch of hooves on frozen ground replaced the sound of sliding rock. I curled up tighter as we started to go uphill and tried not to scream as my weight was pulled toward my feet.

We didn’t stop until the air turned cold in the setting sun and the scent of snow met the smell of fire. Then there was cheering. The muffled sound of crying. Warriors coming home for the winter to wives and husbands and children. I knew that sound. I could see the fjord in my mind. The view of it from up on the ridge. Blues and greens jetting up out of the water and disappearing into the foggy sky. The black rock beach with whitewashed driftwood piled on the shore. My clansmen were probably already there, warming themselves before the fires in their wood-planked homes. Burrowed into their beds with full stomachs.

My father. Myra.

It stung almost as much as the arrow punctured through my flesh.

The Riki left me lying there until voices pushed in at the edges of my blurred thoughts and the cart shook again. I cringed.

“Where am I going to put her?” A rasping voice came from the darkness beside me.