Finn braced himself, taking Disa gently in his hands and setting her to the side so he could sit up. He felt dizzy and everything hurt. His eyes and throat were sore from smoke, every muscle ached, and the fingers on his right hand were wrapped in more cloth. He untied the bandage and flexed his fingers, inspecting the shiny burns. They were dark and dry, though they looked as if they might have been blistered.
How long have I been here? Where is here?
The sun was rising. Finn could see the faint, pink glow reflecting off the clouds. They were on one of the many rock outcroppings scattered just off the shore of the encampment. He rubbed his eyes, surprised at the sting. His exposed skin was tinged with red. He looked back at Disa, still sleeping soundly, and saw the same. They were sunburnt. How could that be? It was barely light out.
Finn remembered the burning boat, remembered it slowly sinking. He remembered thinking his arm was going to catch fire and his desperate attempt to stay conscious as his shoulder steadily bled into the water. He remembered the silhouettes on shore refusing to leave, damn them, and he remembered when Disa's shivers abruptly ceased, remembered her going limp as she slipped into unconsciousness, her lips blue in the moonlight. Then there was the awful swim to shore, slow and steady, hoping to be confused with the blackened debris. Finn hauled them both ashore and hoped his soaked body was enough to warm hers because he didn't dare start a fire. And then…
Blank.
He glanced around and spotted a pile of bloody cloth, as if his shoulder had been bandaged, cleaned, and rebandaged more than once, a thought confirmed by the sight of Disa’s bare legs. She had laid her purple apron dress and green overdress on the ground as a makeshift pallet for him to lie on, leaving her in a dirty shift, the bottom barely reaching her knees, the rest of the fabric having been sacrificed to his wounds.
It's been days, not hours.
He felt a flash of frustration at the lost time, the lost memory, and at having been useless. Anything could have happened. They could have been spotted. She could have died from the cold. He could have died and left her stranded.
Disa made a noise as she shifted, her hands still curled against her. Finn pushed the useless self-admonishments to the side and instead shifted his focus to her. Her hair and face were black with soot, but her arms were clean to the elbow - to be expected if she'd been keeping his wound clean. Her lips were chapped and there were dark circles under her eyes, and besides her hands burned from the fire and her peeling nose burned from the sun, she seemed unharmed.
Finn took the dress she'd laid out for him and draped it over her instead. The sun hadn't fully risen and there was a chilled breeze blowing off of the water. The small area they'd taken refuge in was less like a small island and more like a large pile of rocks. It was only half a dozen or so strides long, most of that made up of large stones sloping steeply into the water. They had been tucked against the largest boulder at the center; its girth sheltering them from the shore. Finn leaned carefully around it, scanning the beach in the distance for movement, but all he could see was the blackened skeleton of the low-lying buildings jutting from ground. He hopped down the incline for a better look, the simple activity feeling good on his cramped muscles. There was a fair amount of fog but the wreckage ashore didn't seem to be smoldering. The scent of ash and blood was still heavy in the air.
“Finn,” came Disa’s strangled whisper. “Finn?”
“I'm here,” he replied before he'd finished scrambling up the rocks. “I'm right here. Are you ok?” Her face was pale and the fear in her voice made him ill.
She stared at him with an expression akin to wonder. “I thought…” She shook her head as if she wasn't sure what she'd thought. “You're awake.”
“Only just now. How long have I been unconscious?” She closed her eyes, struggling to remember. “I'm not sure. I woke up and it was day. It seemed like I'd been asleep for a long time. But there were fires on the shore. Maybe some men.”
“When was this?”
“I don't…” She put her hands on her head, her blinks erratic and slow. “Yesterday?” She didn't sound very sure. “Is it day or night now?”
“It's morning.” He brought his hands up slowly, making sure she understood he meant to touch her and making sure she had the opportunity to brush him away. She dropped her shoulders as her limp arms threatened to fall right out of their sockets. He felt her head and neck gingerly while his eyes ran quickly down her body. “This blood on your hip--”
“It's yours. I had to drag you behind the boulder when it got light. When I thought I heard men.”
Finn raised his eyebrows. He was so large and she was so tiny, something he'd been thankful for when he was shielding her from arrows or dragging her through the water with his injured arm. “How'd you manage that?”
“Not easily.”
He would have laughed at her reply if she didn't look so serious. “Are you hurt at all?”
“No. I kept seeing yellow spots yesterday or...whenever. But that has passed, mostly.”
“Probably the heat. And thirst.” She leaned back against the boulder, her eyes half shut, and he took another look at the beach across the way. “It looks clear. We should swim back over, see if there's food or water close at hand, or else collect some.”
“You want to get back in the water?” she asked, miserable at the prospect.
“I could go alone, if you'd like.”
Disa sat forward, suddenly alert. “What, and leave me here?”
“Yes. I can bring you back water. It's probably safer if I go first, actually.” Finn liked this idea more and more. He'd be less distracted if he knew she was isolated on a rock, away from any potential danger.
“Absolutely not.”
He knew she'd never allow it. He'd hoped he might be able to trick her if she was delirious from lack of water, but she was herself at the moment, accusatory glare and everything. “At least let me go first and look around. I could see if there's another boat. Save you from having to get back into the cold water again.”
“No. We both go.” Her arms were crossed stiffly. She wasn't budging.
“Alright,” Finn sighed. “Together then.”
They clambered back down to the water, slipping into the deep, chilly fjord without discussion. Disa was still in her too short slip and boots, the rest of the dress now rolled up and tucked safely under Finn's wounded arm. His shoulder was stiff, refusing to roll easily, but it didn't hinder him so badly. Even so, it was all he could do just to keep up with Disa as she stroked determinedly towards shore. “You're fast,” he remarked once they reached the shallows, opting to walk instead of swim.
“That night was not the best example of my abilities. My home is on the water's edge. I'm a good swimmer.”
She had color in her cheeks, but whether it was from the sun, the swim, or some unknown embarrassment, he couldn't be sure. He decided to ignore it and her, looking away as she pulled at the fabric that had molded itself to her body. His concentration was so pointedly ahead of him, he almost didn't realize when she ran off in the other direction. “Hey!” He backtracked to join her, not wanting to raise his voice too much. “Don't do that. There could be men about still, looking for survivors.” Disa didn't respond and once he saw where she was headed, he closed his mouth firmly.
Disa stopped abruptly, mouth agape, staring at the ground on the far end of the inlet. Finn knew what a few days of wet and heat could do to a body, and he cursed himself silently for not checking on Nanna before her. Of course she would want to stop there first. He was about to call her back when she looked up at him in delight, not horror. “She's alive.”
“What?” He closed the distance between them at a run. He had been prepared to see a lot of things, but an empty and smooth expanse where he had laid the old woman to rest was not one of them. “Where is she?”
Disa grabbed his arm, tears building at the corners of her eyes. “She has to be alive. She has to be, don't you think?”
> “I don't know…” It was very odd but Finn didn't want to give her false hope. “Maybe someone buried her already.”
“And left all the others? We passed at least three bodies just to get here.” Finn looked back and sure enough, there were three badly burnt bodies lined up along the beach, easily mistaken for a charred log if you weren't paying attention. “She wouldn't be taken hostage, she isn't important enough. At least not to anyone but us,” she amended. “Why would anyone want just her body? She has to be alive. Maybe she's with Roe! He would have come down here looking for me. He could have found her instead.”
“Maybe,” Finn replied half-heartedly. He liked hearing the excitement in her voice too much to dash it all to pieces. It could be true, after all. Maybe his brother had seen Roe captured, not killed. Maybe Rurik had just assumed he'd been killed after they'd dragged him away. Either way, he'd tell her later, after they'd had something to drink and eat, perhaps. Finn made his way to the bodies they'd passed in order to inspect them more closely. They were spaced too evenly. “I don't think we're alone.”
“What do you mean,” she asked as she came to stand beside him.
“Someone has been here. Recently. Look at these bodies.”
“Attackers,” she observed aloud, kicking at their broadswords with her toe.
“Yes,” he agreed as he picked his way across the ashy, debris-strewn beach. “Over here too. More attackers.”
“Do you recognize them?” Disa scrunched up her nose at the smell, disgusted and mesmerized by the distorted features.
“I recognize the wounds,” he explained without stopping as he moved further inland. “I killed him. And this one here. They fell just outside the door of your sod house.” They too had been dragged further down the path, their corpses in a neat line.
Finn managed to find a relatively unscorched storage bin from one of the vessels with a full water skin inside. He sat Disa on what he thought was once a bench and made her drink while he slowly walked up and down the campsite. Every time he came across another body, she would ask if it was a soldier. “Yes,” he'd say when it was, “I can't tell,” he'd reply when it wasn't. He found twenty-four bodies total, none of which appeared to be Nan. “There aren't any clear tracks to offer a clue as to why the bodies were disturbed,” he reported once he made his way back. “It would seem all the boats were burned. I don't think anyone but us escaped that way.”
“Of course all of our boats were burned. A northerner wouldn't sail away and let others die in his stead. They would have stayed and fought.”
Finn nodded. He'd only lived among her people a few short weeks but he knew the boast was true. He would wager his life that her people were among the first to storm over the hills when they realized there was trouble. But that meant he also knew they were likely the first to fall. “I want to go through the rest of the camp. I know it's unlikely, but I want to look for survivors. We can gather some supplies as well for the journey.” Where Disa sat, her toes almost in the water, it was hard to smell anything but smoke and salt, but there was a rotting stench that had drifted down the path when he walked along the edge of the camp. “You may want to…” he trailed off.
“Stay?” Disa finished for him.
“Yes.”
Disa took another drink of water before hitching the skin onto her shoulder and standing. She wasn't going to be left behind. Finn sighed once more and glanced at the hills beyond and the gore he was sure they concealed.
Gods, please let me be the one to find Roe’s corpse.
They came across the first body almost immediately. A young boy was sprawled across the path, his eyes and mouth wide in surprise. Disa stopped suddenly. The others had been so blackened; you could almost pretend they were nothing more than logs or the men who had tried to kill them at the very least. But this boy was just that, a boy. Young and unarmed, it looked like he'd been surprised by a blow to the back of the head. His skin looked like a bruise, mottled some places in greens and purples, and his tongue was swollen behind his teeth. Disa turned to the side and retched, her stomach full of nothing but water and bile. Finn cursed under his breath and held her against him while she doubled over, refusing to move even as she splattered his shoes, holding her still longer after she stopped.
“Drink some water.”
“No.” Her voice came out hoarse and strained. She could smell the death and she pressed closer to Finn. The idea of consuming anything ever again made her sick.
“Just a little,” he urged. “I promise it will help.”
Disa’s eyes were shut tight as she breathed through her mouth. She thought she might feel better if she just held still for long enough. Finn pulled her upright, walking her further up the hill, and Disa let him guide her. He pushed her gently to the grass and pressed the water into her hands. Disa obeyed the unspoken request and sipped slowly, and she had to admit, Finn was right. She did feel better.
“Disa, it's only going to get worse. Please,” he begged. “Please wait here for me. I'll be quick.”
Disa took another swig. “I'm coming with you.” She knew she was driving Finn crazy, but she couldn't help it. She wanted to bear witness. When she met the families of the victims, she wanted to be able to look them in the eye and tell them what had happened.
And I'm afraid you won't come back, whispered the voice in her head. She’d woken up that night, wet and freezing cold, Finn passed out beside her, his heavy arm across her back. She could hear shouting but Finn wouldn't move. She didn't know where they were and, for a brief moment, she had been sure he was dead. She'd never been more afraid. But she couldn't tell him. She couldn't find the right words that wouldn't make her sound or feel weak.
Instead, Disa stood and glared at him the way she glared at her brother when she wanted something he wasn't inclined to give. “Fine,” he agreed at last, reaching for her folded apron dress and taking out a familiar knife.
“Where’d you get that?” she asked, her eyes entranced by the familiar blade, the handle blackened by soot. “Wait, what are you doing?” she scolded, snatching the rich purple fabric from his hands.
“It'll be better to have something around your face. To help block the smell.”
“Ok, but you don't cut up a dress without permission.” She was petting the discarded dress with such sincerity, Finn wanted to laugh, an amazing feat given the situation.
“May I cut the dress, please?” he asked.
She glared at his ill-disguised smile and held her hand out for her knife. He offered it readily, and Disa took the hem of her already damaged shift and pulled it taut, cutting away yet another length of fabric from front of the dress. She tied her makeshift handkerchief around her nose and mouth and stood. Finn raised his eyebrows but said nothing. “What did you want one, too?”
“No, I think that dress has given all it possibly can while still being considered a garment.”
He was right, of course. The back was resting in the groove of her knees and the front now sat above them. Disa didn't think he cared, more like he was trying to cling to the brief respite their light hearted banter had afforded, but the gaiety was quickly slipping away. “Let's go,” she pressed, adjusting the tension of the fabric at the back of her head.
Finn drew his sword and walked ahead carefully, beckoning her to keep behind him. The fields were still, save the buzzing of flies, and though the danger seemed to have passed, Disa did what he asked, halting when he held his hand up, keeping close when he commanded. It wasn't until he stood at the center of the clearing and sheathed the sword that Disa moved off on her own. The carnage was unimaginable. Disa had to fight for every breath she took, forcing her senses to dull or else reject outright the horrors she was witnessing. The people weren't burnt, their softness exposed to the elements, but they still looked like people. They must have been stranded on the rocks no more than a few days. “You're right, someone else was here,” she remarked once she'd finished her lap of the clearing. All of the bodies had been lin
ed up and inspected, their hands resting at their sides, their eyes closed. Disa looked over to see Finn murmuring over the bodies. A prayer? An apology to a friend who died while he still lived? “Who do you think it was,” she asked.
“I don't know,” he answered.
“One of us though, right?”
He glanced up at her. “What makes you say that?”
“The bodies. They're treated with such care, laid out like they're being prepared for burial. Many of the women are still in their feast night garb, yet none have so much as a pin out of place. Their possessions are still about them. That doesn't seem like the actions of the men who murdered them.”
“They could have been searching for someone.”
“Who?”
“Someone they needed dead.”
Disa frowned. He was right. She wanted to wipe her hands down her face but she'd touched too many dead things. “Where is Roe?” she hissed to herself.
“Disa!” Finn called from the top of the hill near the main hall. Her heart sank. Rurik. How thoughtless could she be? She ran to him, trying not to think of the dark stains in her path.
“What happened? Who is it?”
“I think you're right.”
She paused, surprised at his response. He was standing over two men, strangers in dark clothes, sprawled unnaturally in the dirt. “I don't recognize them.”
He pointed to their matching bows. “They’re part of the attacking army, I think.”
“No one bothered to line them up.” Or close their eyes, she added silently, tearing her own eyes away from their frosted and unfocused gaze.
“Grim,” he said with confidence.
Disa glanced around quickly, half expecting to see his hulking mass leaning lazily on a shield. “You think he was tending to the bodies?”
“He and his men.” The words were tumbling from him now and Disa struggled to keep up as he recounted his night. Her brother attacking him before accepting he had no knowledge of any plot, the three of them agreeing to find the weapons and smoke out the mystery conspirators, Grim and Finn charging into the fray while on the lookout for Roe. “And he said at the hall he was sending a messenger to call back his men.”
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