by Jess E. Owen
Kenna made a quiet noise and Caj glanced to her, unable to tell if the violet huntress approved of, or feared, Thyra’s questioning.
With a quick, seeking glance at Caj, Halvden shifted, his gaze flickering with the first sign of doubt. Then, to the surprise of all, he mantled low.
“For the sake of my unborn kit. For your own sense of honor.” There was a long, cold silence, thick with gathering anger. Head bowed, Halvden lifted only his fierce golden eyes to Ragna, and to Caj’s surprise, addressed the Widow Queen again. “Now you may prove that you’re a better and more merciful queen than Sverin was king, that the Vanir are all you say they are.”
“Let it never be said you aren’t clever,” Ragna murmured, and Caj had to agree. He exchanged a dark look with Sigrun, and feared he may have been soft and foolish in sparing Halvden’s life.
The green warrior bowed his head again. Ragna and Thyra looked to Kenna, and Ragna spoke. “You chose Halvden as your true mate this summer last. Tell me, do you still desire him, after all that has happened? He begs for his life in the name of his unborn kit. Do you wish for him to be father to your young, if he changes as he promises?”
Kenna’s beak opened slightly, perhaps stunned to be asked such questions. Her gaze rested on Halvden and for the first time, he appeared hesitant. But he did lift his eyes and in that look, Caj saw with some reassurance that he was at the mercy of at least one gryfess there. When Kenna hesitated to answer, Caj saw in Halvden’s flattened ears and widened eyes that he loved her, that he actually felt regret, that he was afraid. And, it seemed, so did Kenna.
“I do,” she said, low but clear, for hers was not a whispering nature. “I hope he will atone for everything and make himself better for the pride and for his family.”
Thyra nodded. “Then he will have his chance—”
“No!” Astri rose, having endured all she could. Sigrun stood with her, making a soothing sound, and Caj saw that she feared for the young gryfess. “No, how could you? It was he who goaded Sverin, he who tried to kill Caj! He faked Kjorn’s death, he bullied my mate! He is wicked, my queens, I beg you, he must die.”
Caj stood, seeing that Astri was ready to leap and murder Halvden herself. Her white wings raised like gleaming sheets of ice, beak opened in a pant, her eyes pinpointed in disbelief and feral panic. “You cannot let him get away with this.”
“Calm yourself,” Sigrun said, her own expression guarded. “Think of your kit.”
“I am! I am thinking of my kit, and my mate whose blood is not just on Sverin’s talons, but on his!”
She leaped. Caj barreled between her and Halvden even as Kenna caught the smaller gryfess around the chest to restrain her.
“I didn’t kill Einarr!” Halvden shouted, his temper and pride at last unleashed.
“You as good as did,” Astri cried. “You wretch. My queen,” she begged first of Thyra, then Ragna, both of whom remained where they were, fearing perhaps that Halvden would take the chance to flee the cave. “Please, you cannot let his crimes go unpunished. He doesn’t deserve your mercy.”
“Enough now,” Ragna said quietly. “This will not do. We have all been injured. We have all suffered loss. He will not go unpunished. Contain yourself.”
“Astri,” Thyra murmured. “My friend. We have hunted together, shared injury. Laughed, and wept. We chose our mates on the same Daynight. You must trust in me now, and remember that shedding more blood will not bring Einarr back.”
Astri crumpled in Kenna’s grip. Her wings fell to her sides, Kenna loosened her hold, and Astri sat back, touching gentle talons to her belly.
“Tyr watches you,” she whispered to Halvden. “You may say pretty things to appease those here, but there is one who knows your true heart and you will atone in the end—here, or in the Sunlit Land.”
Halvden laid back his ears, but wisely said nothing.
“Wingsister,” Kenna murmured.
“No.” Astri broke away, stumbling on her own wing before folding it, and brushed by Ragna, who allowed her to pass. “No. I’m not. Not anymore. You severed that vow by choosing him.”
“If it were Einarr,” Kenna began, and Caj thought she couldn’t have chosen a poorer comparison, “wouldn’t you choose him?”
Astri paused in the entrance, looking like a snowflake in the low light. “I am,” she breathed, and left with a whimper, climbing out of sight.
“Sigrun,” Caj began, but his mate knew her work well, and was already following.
“With your leave,” she murmured to both queens.
“Take care of her, Mother,” Thyra said quietly.
“I will.” Sigrun turned a wicked glare to Halvden, who actually looked struck by Astri’s pain. “You. If you have it in your greedy, conniving heart to speak an honest word or do one genuine thing for another, now is the time to begin. Then, maybe, you will see forgiveness.”
After giving Caj a measuring look, as if to gauge his intelligence for letting Halvden live, she left.
“I should go too,” Kenna said, and walked close to Halvden. “She’s right. Now is the time to begin.”
Halvden met her gaze, then lowered his head.
Kenna search his face, laid her ears back in a warning look, and left the cave to help tend Astri.
Caj stood. “If you’re done with my presence, my ladies, I must resume my search.”
“Your search,” Ragna said thoughtfully. She drew herself up, watching him. “Caj, it’s taking too long. It’s becoming a wolf hunt.” Ever since Sverin’s obsession with hunting wolves that winter, “wolf hunt” was a phrase the Vanir used for any pursuit that could be deemed mad or fruitless.
Caj fought against a growl.
Ragna lifted her wings in warning. “I know you fear it will harm your efforts but I must insist on sending warriors. Halvden can tell them where Sverin is sheltering, and they will restrain him until you arrive and can try to restore him to his senses. This is what we should have done from the start. In honor of you and of Sigrun, I didn’t act when she told me of your search. I must act now.”
Caj kept silent until he had something to say. The decision was not brash—he could see she meant no harm or disrespect. On the surface the idea sounded sensible, but he could think of nothing more foolish than to send more gryfons into Sverin’s path.
“Father,” Thyra said quietly, and he looked at her, feeling betrayed to see that she agreed. “You see the sense of it. It will take you too long, and when you reach him, you’ll be alone.”
“I must be alone,” Caj said, looking between them. Halvden watched, looking relieved that the focus was off him for a moment. “He will attack any other. I won’t risk that.”
“And if he attacks you?” Thyra asked, and her gaze fell on his broken wing. “You couldn’t possibly hope to overcome him.”
“I’m the only one who could hope to overcome him, daughter.” Caj managed to keep the growl from his voice. He dipped his head. “My ladies. You must allow me to continue. You must leave him to me.”
“In your condition,” Ragna said, “you could not best him.”
Caj could tell she hadn’t meant it to insult him, but it pierced his pride nonetheless, and for a moment it was all he could do to restrain his temper.
“He bested me.”
They all looked at Halvden.
“In his condition,” he clarified when Ragna and Thyra only stared at him, and he nodded to indicate Caj’s wing. “I’m not Sverin, but still, he bested me. Forgive me for interrupting, but I have seen Sverin most recently. Caj is the only one who can hope to make him see reason. He’ll feel threatened by anyone else, he’ll…” He looked between the two gryfesses and a keen look came into his eyes. “Ah, but you don’t mean for Sverin to return alive, do you?”
“Don’t goad him,” Ragna warned, and Caj realized it was exactly was Halvden was trying to do.
Thyra stepped forward, answering Caj’s quiet growl. “Father, he’s wrong. Of course we do want him alive. If it
’s possible.”
“If it’s possible,” Caj echoed flatly.
Thyra watched him warily, and behind her, Ragna remained quiet, deferring. “Father, Sverin threatened me with exile and death even knowing I carry Kjorn’s kit. He killed Einarr, who tried to serve loyally until it became clear that Sverin was mad. Before he left me, Kjorn was resigned to let us do what we needed to do if his father could not be contained nor brought to see reason.”
“Do you have any idea what will happen?” Caj looked between both queens. “He could kill anyone you send. Do you want more weeping gryfesses to tend to? More injuries, more death?”
“Not even Sverin could best a number of young, healthy warriors,” Ragna murmured.
“He’s not Sverin anymore,” Halvden said. “My lady. He’s not a king, not an Aesir even. He’s Nameless.” He looked to Thyra. “He’s a wild, starving beast, desperate to survive. He has no sense of honor. He won’t spare them for the sake of their families.” He looked at Caj. “Or they’ll kill him. Something has driven him mad, and mad he remains.”
“Be silent,” Ragna snapped, showing a temper at last. Caj agreed, though he recalled earlier that winter during the Long Night, when Ragna hinted she knew something about Sverin that Caj himself didn’t, some guilt. Something enough, perhaps, to drive a king mad. Ragna shook her head. “It’s no business of yours, now.”
“But it is.” Halvden inclined his head when she fixed her cool green eyes upon him. “He is my king. More than that, I swore a wingbrother vow. Though he wasn’t in his right mind, I was, and I will be true to it.”
Surprised, Caj appraised Halvden’s expression and found it genuine.
“Very well,” Ragna said. “Then you may help by leading our chosen warriors to him. And restrain him, by any means necessary, until Caj can arrive.”
“If I could suggest, instead, that I serve Caj. My greatest crime was against him, and it’s to him I wish to make amends.”
Halvden looked sidelong at Caj, and both Thyra and Ragna looked momentarily bewildered by the suggestion.
“Father?” Thyra asked. “It’s your decision.”
“Oh,” Caj said, tail twitching, “if Halvden wishes to make amends with me, I will have work enough for him.”
“Then let it be so,” Ragna said. “Thyra and I will choose warriors. Halvden, tell them where you know of Sverin last sheltering. They will find and restrain him, then fetch you to him so you can attempt to restore him. Does this satisfy all?” She looked from Thyra to Caj, and Caj could only incline his head. Any other argument would be fruitless.
“Let it be so,” Thyra said.
“Thank you, my lady,” Halvden murmured graciously, and Caj watched him with growing suspicion.
“Go make your preparations, and Thyra and I will choose warriors to seek out Sverin.”
“They what?” Sigrun looked dismayed, later in their den when Caj told her. She packed new mud around his wing. “I shouldn’t have left you. I could have convinced Ragna—”
“No, they were set. But at least I’ll have Halvden,” he said blandly.
“Halvden.” Sigrun nearly spat the name. “Watch your back.”
“He knows I can best him. What’s more, I think he genuinely wishes, at least, to prove himself to Kenna. How is Astri?”
“Well enough.” The short answer suggested he shouldn’t pursue the matter. Sigrun continued muttering as she combed gentle talons through the feathers of his wing, followed by a cool pack of fast-drying mud. “Do try not to break this one.”
“I will.”
She sighed, frustrated, but her soft touched eased Caj’s heart. “All this business with two queens, it does nothing to serve the pride. Everything feels split, disjointed.”
“It will be well again, when the princes return.”
That thought quieted them both for a moment. Then, at the same time they asked each other, “What will you do—”
“. . . when Shard returns,” Sigrun said.
“. . . when Kjorn returns,” Caj said.
They both paused, then broke out in long, rueful, weary laughter. Very quietly Sigrun said, “I cannot see Shard exiling anyone, but if it’s to be so, then I will go where you are, my mate. If the Aesir return to the windward land, you will have a daughter, her mate and kit and your lost kin there—”
“I have a son here, too.” He stretched out a foreleg, flexing his talons against the rock floor. “Or maybe that remains to be seen, if he’ll even allow Aesir in the Silver Isles.”
Sigrun’s voice grew tight. “Caj…”
“It’s a possibility we must consider.” He didn’t meet her eyes.
“I will go where you are,” she said again, firmly, and finished rebuilding the cast. “There. That’s as well as I can make it. I suppose you won’t wait until it’s dry to set out.”
“I can’t. I must try to keep up with Ragna and Thyra’s warriors, though they’ll be flying. Halvden’s already told them where he knew Sverin to be nesting. I can only hope he doesn’t kill any of them or fly again before I arrive.”
“Be safe,” Sigrun whispered, touching her beak just behind his ear. Caj tucked his head against hers for a moment, then a rush of wings drew them up.
“Ready?” Halvden asked, not entering, but beating his wings hard to hover just outside the den.
“Show respect,” Sigrun snipped, and Halvden landed, folding his wings.
“I’m ready.” Caj stood.
“Take care of…each other,” Sigrun said, tightly acknowledging Halvden. He inclined his head and Sigrun looked back to Caj. “I will do what I can to help you from here. Don’t stray from your path.”
Caj tilted his head curiously, wondering what she could do from there, but she looked past them toward the entryway and flicked one ear back, indicating she didn’t wish to elaborate. He stepped forward to touch his beak just behind her ear. “I’ll see you soon.”
“You’d better,” she murmured. He chuckled, and followed Halvden from the den.
They walked in silence from the nesting cliffs, and Caj felt eyes on them, pride members watching their departure. They walked nightward, which he found odd, but Halvden had sworn to help him. Gradually, a half mark later, when Caj noticed they were out of sight of the nesting cliffs, Halvden turned starward to follow the Nightrun River.
“We must move quickly,” Caj reminded him, alert for betrayal and wary of Halvden’s meandering course. “We must try to find Sverin before Ragna’s warriors do. For all her talk of only restraining him, I fear what will happen if they find him first.”
“Oh that won’t be a problem.”
Caj stopped walking. They stood under the spindly cover of birch trees, and heard but didn’t yet see the river. “You lied to them.”
Halvden looked up at the naked, grasping trees. “Ragna’s warriors are heading to the nightward shore as we speak, to search those cliffs there. Far away from the last place I saw Sverin.” He met Caj’s gaze squarely. “My debt is not to those warriors, but you. And I will take you, alone, to Sverin. We both understand that’s best.”
Caj stared at him, and finally collected himself. It was not his first choice to lie, but the deed was done and he was not above taking advantage of it. “Then lead on.”
Halvden nodded once, and turned to lead the way upriver, toward the White Mountains.
~ 22 ~
Mountains of the Sea
SHARD BACKED AWAY, TAIL lashing.
He swallowed hard. It felt as if he swallowed his own heart.
His hind paw pressed on something sharp. Lifting his foot, Shard peered back, then edged to the side. There, by the fire, lay a small skeleton, and the grinning skull of a fox.
Shard fought to keep his breath calm.
Two gifts, Groa had said. Come over to me.
Gulping down his horror and the slow, eerie cold of understanding, Shard crept back to the gryfon skeleton.
Grasped within the cracked talons was a pouch of rabbit skin t
ied shut by two long cords of leather. Inside, Shard found two oddly straight stones. Or not stones exactly. One was metal, the other flint.
Fire stones. He looped it over his head by the leather cords for safekeeping.
“What else?” he murmured. The only treasure I kept. At first he saw nothing, then when he shifted and faint light shone through the entrance, it caught on a thin, tarnished silver chain that still hung around the skeleton’s neck. There was nothing else, no jewel, no thick and gaudy pendant, just a simple, silver chain. If she wanted him to have it so badly, Shard thought, he should take it.
Drawing a breath and murmuring a respectful thank you, he drew the long chain carefully through the neck bones, examined it in the dim light, then slipped it over his head with the pouch. It promptly disappeared beneath his long winter feathers. He’d never been honored with any dragon crafted treasures before, and he found that it didn’t make him feel much different.
Shard rested his talons briefly on the brow of the skull, wishing her well in the Sunlit Land. He wondered with no small dismay if part of being a Summer King meant that the dead would be speaking to him often, now.
“Oh,” said a voice from the entrance, and Shard turned, lifting his wings. Iluq stood there, outlined by the dim and rising light. “You’re awake! I’m sorry I let the fire die.”
Shard didn’t know if he’d moved in a dream for the entire night, a dream woven by a long-dead gryfess, but certainly he was awake now. “Iluq…”
“I know,” the little spirit said, and Shard tried to catch a scent, realizing, then, that he’d never smelled either of them, and had thought it was only because of the smoke. “You want to go.”
