“Your swords.” Tein’s voice. It was unsteady, even though he was shouting. He reached out expectantly. “You have no right to bear arms here, An-Elderin.”
Rime stopped and turned to face Tein. Hirka’s breath hitched. Something was going to happen. She could hear the wind in the trees behind Rime and Tein. They stood only a couple paces from each other.
The two were a study in contrasts, much like Ravnhov and Mannfalla. Tein the complete opposite of Rime with his dark hair, fur-lined jacket, and ruddy complexion. His eyes were narrow slits, his lips taut and colorless. Tein was full of hate—a hate that threatened to consume him.
She could tell that Rime was trying to read him. To work out how far he was willing to go. An eternity passed. Then Rime’s hands moved to undo his belt. Tein gave a lopsided smile and drew his sword. Hirka’s eyes widened when she realized what was happening. Tein didn’t want Rime’s swords at all. He had deliberately misread his actions. He was acting like he thought Rime was drawing his swords instead of surrendering them. Tein wanted to kill Rime.
Eirik took a step forward, but Hirka stopped him. “The more people get involved, the more people die,” she said, her voice barely recognizable. “Give Rime a chance and no blood will be shed.” Eirik eyed her doubtfully. But he stayed where he was.
Rime closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He opened them again and drew one of his swords. Hirka couldn’t believe what was happening. She’d had her hand around the hilt of that sword. She’d pulled it out of one of the blind. She’d dragged that narrow blade out of the water. But not for this.
She glanced behind her. People stood as if mesmerized, every single one of them. More came running. No one would do anything. They’d been waiting for this for generations. This wasn’t two young men having an argument. This was Ravnhov against Mannfalla. The Council against the crownless kings.
“Don’t make me hurt you.” Rime spoke quietly, so only Tein could hear him, but Hirka heard every word. It wasn’t arrogance. It wasn’t a display of power. She knew Rime. This was a plea.
But Tein didn’t listen. “You’ve been hurting us for a thousand years, Kolkagga!” Tein’s voice shook with disgust and fear. “You’re nothing here. The Council has no power here. This is Ravnhov!”
Tein leaped forward and swung his sword at Rime. A gasp rippled through the crowd. Rime dodged effortlessly. Hirka put a hand over her mouth. The chieftain’s son was condemning himself to humiliation, and he was too young to realize it.
Tein swung again. This time from the side. His movements were much slower and heavier than Rime’s. His sword was broad. It sang against Rime’s narrow blades. It sang again as he pulled it back. Tein panted. They circled each other. Hirka could see that he was starting to understand what he’d gotten himself into. Somewhere deep inside, Tein knew he was going to lose. All the same, he screamed at Rime, “You have no right! You can’t play king here!”
“Which of us is playing king?” Rime replied. His patience was wearing thin. Tein shrieked and ran at him with his sword raised as if it were a battering ram.
“I HAVE ROYAL BLOOD!”
Hirka could tell that Rime had had enough. This would end here and now. He danced around Tein. Swung at his arm. Tein yelped and dropped his sword. Rime kicked him in the back of the knee and the chieftain’s son fell to the ground. In an instant, Rime was in front of him with his sword to his throat.
“So tell me, Tein, son of Eirik, what would you do if you were king? How would you stop the blind? How would you overthrow a corrupt council who swear by a lie? And how would you explain to the world what you’ve not even managed to explain to yourself? That you’re supposed to lead them?”
Hirka wanted to cry. It couldn’t have gone any differently, but this wasn’t the outcome people needed. “Rime …” It was just a whisper, but he heard it.
Remember who you are.
Rime looked at her. Looked at the people holding their collective breath. At Eirik, who was opening and closing clammy fists. Then he took a step closer to Tein. Hirka knew what he was doing. All she could do was hope it worked.
Tein grabbed Rime’s leg and pulled. Rime fell to the ground and let go of his sword. He didn’t drop it. He let it go. Tein put a foot on his chest. Rime started to laugh. “You’re good, Tein, son of kings.”
His laughter was infectious. The onlookers started to laugh. Someone clapped and more joined in. Tein looked around. Then he smiled and helped Rime back to his feet. Tein’s friends came over and slapped him on the back. Together they took the horses carrying the dead blind ones and started up toward the ice. The crowd thinned around them.
Only Eirik and Rime were left, together with Hirka, but neither of them were looking at her. They were looking at each other.
The chieftain tugged his beard. His eyes twinkled blue. He knew as well as Hirka that Rime had let Tein win, preventing any blood from being shed. He’d given Ravnhov what they needed.
The chieftain went over to Rime, his footsteps heavy. He put his hand behind Rime’s head and pulled it toward his own until they were standing forehead to forehead. They stood like that, the chieftain of Ravnhov and the onetime heir to the Council.
Eirik patted Rime’s head a couple times. “If you were Mannfalla, Rime An-Elderin, I’d follow you. I’d follow you. You hear me?” Eirik’s voice wobbled. Rime nodded.
“I’ll come back, I promise. You have my word, Eirik.”
“That’s all I need.” Eirik let him go and walked away.
DIVERGING PATHS
Father used to say that he could live without feet as long as his heart was strong enough to carry him. And it had been. At times it had been strong enough to carry both of them, right up until Hirka’s life was in danger. Only then had it faltered. Only then had Father given up, for her sake. Father’s heart had borne hunger, pain, gossip, and illness, but it hadn’t been strong enough to bear Kolkagga. Hirka didn’t think hers could bear it either.
She was in the raven ravine looking out over Blindból. She had stood here with Tein once, listening to him rage against past injustices. Now she was sitting here because it was the only place in Ravnhov where she could escape the sounds of preparation. Chainmail and swords. Shields being stacked in carts and transported to the battlefield. She only had a few days left, and she didn’t want to fill them with the sounds of imminent death. All she wanted was to hear the ravens chattering—the rest merely spoke to people’s folly.
The raven ravine cut through the plateau where the chieftain’s household was situated, and it ended in an open scar in the mountainside, high above the forest. Here she sat, hidden at the bottom of the ravine, but still high above the world. Blindból looked deceptively easy to travel through from here, but she knew better. The valleys were deep and the forests dense. It took hours to reach each of the towering stone pillars. And from the forest floor they all looked the same, which meant you thought you either were walking in circles or had lost your wits.
Hirka looked up at the top of Bromfjell. There was a raven ring up there. A stone circle. The way out of this world. Hlosnian had given her the verdict earlier that day. Seven days. That was all she could have. Then they had to go up and look. Maybe he could help her get home. The earth had a pulse, he’d said. Sometimes the Might was powerful, other times faint, like a vague memory. Hlosnian said that he wasn’t a skilled binder. His gift was his sensitivity. That was why he’d been a stone whisperer for the Council. He’d been able to listen to the pulse. Feel the Might ebb and flow with the seasons and the weather. Stone had memory of the Might. Stone remembered everything that had been and everything that was. Hlosnian needed a powerful flow to help her get home. That would come in seven days.
Everything inside her resisted, but it was like fighting against the waterfall when she had been swept over the edge. It didn’t matter what she wanted. Her path had been chosen a long time ago. Ravnhov could never be her home, no matter how at ease she felt here. And Rime could never be hers, no matt
er how much of her heart he possessed. The unfairness of it all was so overwhelming that she could have drowned in it. She had to leave. And all that she loved had to stay.
Someone was approaching. She knew without looking that it was Rime. He had his own way of walking. Her thirst for the Might awoke, and it annoyed her. What was she? A cat in front of an empty dish? She would have to learn to live with that feeling, because she was never going to see him again.
He crouched down next to her. He was ready to leave. Dressed in black, with his bag on his back. Kolkagga. Hirka dangled her feet over the edge because she knew that he wouldn’t do the same.
“Thinking about the war?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I’m thinking about salvation.”
“That might have been possible once, but the Seer doesn’t exist.” It was the first time she’d heard him say it without pain.
“He exists if you let him exist.”
“You sound like Ilume,” he said.
“You should have listened to her. She knew. There is a seer. You decide whether He exists. You’re the Seer, Rime.”
He laughed abruptly. “I don’t have any power to change people’s minds.”
“Then what’s the point in leaving?”
He didn’t answer at first. That confirmed her suspicions. He was in the process of making a decision. The wrong decision. “I don’t belong here. I’m Kolkagga.”
“Kolkagga?” Hirka snorted. “That’s probably the worst place to be if you don’t have any power.”
“Time will tell. I have to answer for what I’ve done.”
Hirka clenched her teeth. He was talking like a fool. As though he didn’t understand how the world worked. Him, the boy who used to laugh at her because she didn’t understand. Because she was naive. He was going to return to Kolkagga. Roll over like a dog. Offer his life in exchange for the men he had killed. What good was that going to do? What good had it done Father?
“So what are you, Rime? A child? Are you Tein? Is that what you are? You can’t run anymore. There’s nowhere left to go. You think you’re being responsible by letting Kolkagga kill you for what you’ve done, but that’s not responsibility. Dying is also running, Rime. You’re taking the easiest way out of all.”
He looked surprised. What had he expected? For her to say, “Thanks for everything and good luck”? For her to understand? He was the one who didn’t understand. Hirka got up. “You once asked me who I was. But you’re the one who doesn’t know who you are, Rime. I’m Hirka. I’m the tailless girl. The child of Odin. I’m the one who doesn’t belong here. All you had was the Seer. Who are you without Him? Already dead? What a load of crock.” Her heart grew heavier with every word. She saw a look of pain cross his face and it made her ache so sweetly that she couldn’t stop. “Do you think I’m just running away, Rime? Do you think I want to leave this world? Obviously I don’t want to, but I’m doing it anyway. Because I have to. And because nobody can do it for me.”
He didn’t reply. His eyes followed her while she paced back and forth along a ledge that dropped farther down into the ravine. The ravens stirred anxiously in the bushes.
“You’re heir to a seat on the Council. Something you never wanted and never asked for. But you know what, Rime? You might not want it, but nobody else can do anything with that position. Nobody else can topple the Council that you love to hate. Nobody else can prevent a hundred thousand men from clashing out there on the battlefield. Nobody!”
She pointed at the forest. “In a few days, the sky will be black with shrieking ravens, and they’ll be able to eat their fill. Because you’re blinded by hate. Don’t you see that the Council is the only place the world can be changed from? Are you that blind?!”
He didn’t get up, and he didn’t look at her either. He’d made his choice.
She laughed in despair. “Blind, well … Nobody else can stop the blind, either! Nobody can stop Urd from destroying the world in the most despicable way imaginable. Nobody else can make him pay for Ilume. And nobody else can stop Ramoja. Do you really think a group of raveners can do the job you’re meant to do? They’re going to die, all of them. A senseless bloodbath while you’re hiding in Blindból!”
As soon as she was finished, she realized how long she had been wanting to shout that. She’d thought it would help, but it didn’t. Talking like she despised him didn’t make her despise him. It just made her feel bad.
He stood up.
“What difference does it make what I do? You’re leaving anyway.” His voice was sharper than normal. Hirka’s arms fell to her sides. The weight of what he had said struck her. Shattered what she thought she knew.
He needed her.
She had thought it was the other way around. That it had always been the other way around. Now she saw everything they had been through in a new light. He hadn’t helped her during the Rite because she needed it. He had needed to defy the Council. He hadn’t dragged her through Blindból for her sake, but for his own.
He didn’t look at her while he spoke. “I thought I was part of a struggle that meant something. I was Kolkagga. I was the Seer’s servant. But you’re right. Without Him there’s nothing. No purpose. Everything I was slipped through my fingers and disappeared. And the blind are back, so you’re going to leave here, no matter what I do. I’ve already lost this fight.”
“No! No, Rime. Aren’t you listening? You kept me alive because I was going to leave. We’ve already won this fight!”
He drew closer. “We’ve only won when Kolkagga hear what I have to say. When they realize they’re fighting for the enemy. The world isn’t controlled by Eisvaldr, Hirka. The world is controlled by those who control Kolkagga. When they hear me … And when we topple Urd Vanfarinn so that you can stay. That’s when we’ve won.”
Hirka heard an echo of Ilume’s words. Kolkagga. That was the last word that had passed her lips before she died. Hirka looked at Rime and felt a glimmer of hope. She would have given anything for him to be right. He was Kolkagga, he could stop Urd. And she could stay. She could stay here in Ravnhov. Nobody cared about the rot here.
Her hope was extinguished the moment the thought crossed her mind. It was hopeless. It would always be hopeless. Even if Rime succeeded in toppling Urd, even if he took his place on the Council and prevented a war, even if she could stay here, she would never be a part of his world. What was she thinking? Why was she pushing him back to a world where she could never have him? She was never going to see him again. She stared up at him. Tried to burn his image into her mind so she’d never forget. White hair and wolf eyes.
“Give me a few days, Hirka.” He stepped closer. So close that she could feel the heat from his breath.
“To do what?” She pressed her arms against her sides so she wouldn’t automatically lift them to touch him.
“Eight days, maybe nine. If I’m not back to tell you that Urd is dead before that time, then you can leave. But not before.”
She laughed. There was nothing else to be done. “Rime, I can’t choose when I have to leave. Hlosnian has given me seven days. In seven days the Might will surge and he can help me get out. And you’re asking for eight.”
He closed his eyes. Seven was too few. She knew it. Four days through Blindból to Mannfalla, and four days back. And it would be difficult, even for a black shadow without a child of Odin in tow. Rime opened his eyes again.
“Seven days. I’ll send a raven when Urd is dead. Promise you won’t leave before then.” He grabbed her and pulled her toward him. “Promise!”
His lips were cool against her cheek. Her body screamed for the Might, but she said nothing. They were in Ravnhov. The Might was strong here, and she would never be able to resist it. It would pick her apart. Lay her bare. He’d see her every thought. Her fear of the unknown. The poisonous need to ask him to stay with her. To say to Slokna with his world and that he should follow her to hers. And if he realized how deeply she wanted that, maybe that’s how it would be. Maybe he�
��d follow her and let the world burn. That would be almost as horrible as never seeing him again.
“I’m the rot, Rime. No matter what you do, it doesn’t change what I am.”
He held her face in his hands and smiled. His eyes darted around as though he was trying to figure out how she was put together.
“You’re not the rot, Hirka. You never have been and never will be. You’re all that is good in this world. We are the rot. Not you.”
Hirka felt her resistance weakening with his every word. She melted into him. Reached up and kissed him cautiously. A gentle puff against his lips. She could feel the edges of his pendant through his black clothes. An assassin with a childhood keepsake around his neck. He started to bind. She swallowed and backed away from him a little, before the Might could take hold.
“One point to you if you make it back within seven days,” she said. His eyes burned white at her. He was a living plea, fists clenched at his sides.
Then he pulled up his black hood and jumped over the ledge.
BROMFJELL
The world ended here in Ravnhov.
Hirka crossed a deserted courtyard and over the bridge. She followed the narrow stone steps down into the ravine and continued between the trees toward the ravenry. The grass was white with frost. No one else had walked there today. No one else would either. Every man over the age of fifteen had left to stand against Mannfalla for the last time. A war she would never know the outcome of.
Many women had left as well. The women in Ravnhov weren’t like the women in Mannfalla. Maja had left the inn to lead hundreds into battle.
Hirka reached the ravenry and stopped in the doorway. The room smelled of blood. Two old men were preparing fresh game for the ravens. There was no one else here. The young raveners were able-bodied and on their way to fight. One of the old men spotted her. He shook his head. Nothing from Rime on the seventh day either.
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