Beyond a Darkened Shore

by Jessica Leake

  “If given the chance,” I continued, “I can get inside their heads, perhaps find out more.”

  Leif let out his breath. “You’re right.” Some of the tension seemed to leave him, and he turned to go. “It’s late. I should find Arinbjorn.” Before he left, he gestured toward my head. “Your injury—is it better?”

  I smiled. “Much.” I’d almost forgotten about it. The pain had reduced to a dull ache that I could easily ignore.

  “Good. Will you stay in your room now that you’ve seen I had reason to warn you?”

  My eyes narrowed. “Yes, and I don’t need another warning. I can take care of myself.”

  He grinned like he had expected me to answer in exactly that way. “Good night, then.”

  “Good night,” I muttered, and hurried into my room.

  I closed my door and leaned against it, suddenly exhausted. With all that had happened, I realized with a blooming unease that we had yet to see the king.

  There might be more enemies under this roof than just the two strange Northmen.

  12

  The sound of a low horn in the morning announced the return of the king and his party. The castle’s servants flew into an organized frenzy, preparing the hall and rooms for its master. I watched with tensed muscles, as though I was preparing for battle.

  I had a wealth of nervous energy even though I’d spent much of the night afraid that if I fell asleep, the Morrigan would reveal something else to me—like the fate of my family. I tried not to worry about my sisters, but just thinking about them made me long for my lost home. Today, though, I swore I would banish everything but this quest from my mind. There was much more to concern myself over. The king was problem enough, but I was also wary of encountering the strange men from last night. As I entered the hall, I was relieved to find it set back to rights after the Northman celebration last night. Servants jostled past me, carrying ornate candlestick holders, golden bowls of fruit, and baskets of bread. I could smell boar being roasted on its spit. Red-and-gold embroidered cloth covered the tables, a high-backed throne had been given the place of honor, and already, dancers, jesters, and minstrels were arriving. These were the makings of a feast, but instead of engendering a feeling of joy, I felt only a cold apprehension.

  “A feast, a great feast for a successful raid,” a loud baritone of a voice called behind me.

  I glanced up to see a man unremarkable in appearance save for his height, dressed in a tunic of red and gold, as though he wished to match the tablecloths. He did not wear a crown upon his head, but it was clear from the way his eyes surveyed the room possessively, and the richness of his clothes, that he was the king.

  He took notice of me, the only lady in the room in a sea of servants, and hastened to my side. “I thought I knew of every guest in this castle, but I confess, I am at a loss as to who you might be.” There was no accusation in his tone, only curiosity, his light brown eyes watching me with interest.

  “Forgive me, your grace,” I said. “I arrived in the company of Leif Olafsson.”

  Loud footfalls behind me announced another’s presence, and the king and I both turned. Leif stepped forward, his brother just a step or two behind him, and the king greeted them both with a wide smile. “Olafsson! I am honored to have you at my court.”

  Leif gave a stiff bow. “My thanks for sheltering my men until I could return.”

  “You mean until you could make your escape.” King Sigtrygg laughed. “Ah, well, it was no hardship on my part. Though they have run my servants ragged.” His eyes shifted to me. “But I was surprised to find a great lady such as this in your company. I am still waiting for an introduction.”

  “This is Ciara Leannán, Princess of Mide.”

  I reluctantly lowered into a curtsy. When I rose again, there was a light in the king’s eyes, a sort of greedy hunger. “A warrior princess accompanying you. What a perfect alliance. I should have known who you were the moment I saw you. The dark-haired warrior daughter of the king of Mide. I had wondered why you weren’t at your father’s side.”

  I stiffened. “You’ve seen my father?”

  He smiled, but there was nothing friendly in the gesture. “I have only just come from Mide. The king was more than hospitable.” His smile widened. “Indeed, I feel richer just having dined at his table.”

  It was hard to imagine my father allowing this king to dine in our halls, but I was more concerned with news of my mother and sisters. “Then my family is well? My mother and sisters?”

  “The queen and the princesses were in excellent health when I left only a few days ago,” he said, and I let out a breath in relief. “Your mother was equally hospitable after the king and I came to an agreement.”

  An agreement? The king of Dubhlinn was responsible for the raid on the monastery. It had seemed like my father was more inclined toward battle with Sigtrygg than peace. But that was a fortnight ago. What had happened to change Áthair’s mind? “I hope it was an arrangement of peace.”

  “We came to a very peaceful arrangement in the end,” the king agreed, but there was still something about his tone that was off. I couldn’t trust him.

  The king’s eyes fell on Arinbjorn, who was shifting from one foot to the other as though he’d rather be running than standing by idly. “This boy looks just like you,” he said to Leif, “but he is much too old to be your son. He is your kinsman?”

  “My brother,” Leif said.

  “Brother to a great warrior. Are you as skilled?”

  Arinbjorn crossed his arms over his chest. His expression mimicked the arrogance of his brother’s. “As skilled in what?”

  Had this been one of my sisters, I would have been mortified at the audacity of such a question, but Leif only grinned.

  “In battles, son,” the king said, a slight edge to his voice. “In raids, in warfare.”

  “No one is as skilled as my brother,” Arinbjorn said with a proud glance at Leif.

  “They say the princess comes close,” the king said, “and there are two Northmen here who claim to have abilities no one has seen before. It makes me long for a coliseum. How I would love to pit your skills against one another.”

  His wistful look shot a fiery disdain through my heart. “Such barbarism is long dead, your grace,” I said.

  “A pity. I shall have to satisfy my bloodlust with raids like any other Northman.”

  A curse sprang to the tip of my tongue, but I managed to suppress it. “If you’ll excuse me, I must be sure my horse is being properly cared for,” I said with a shallow curtsy.

  Leif pushed Arinbjorn toward me. “Go with her,” he said.

  His brother looked as though he would protest, but then he nodded.

  Sleipnir was no doubt well cared for, but I was sure that if I stayed a moment longer, I would forget myself and say something that would bring the wrath of the king down upon my house and clan.

  The stables were quiet. It seemed everyone was preparing for the feast in the castle, and there wasn’t a single groom to be found. The soft sounds of the horses and the smell of fresh hay soothed some of my anger at the king. He might have been polite, but I couldn’t help but dislike him. Not after everything he had done—raiding and pillaging our kingdom and many others like a Northman. He had a falseness to him that I didn’t trust.

  Arinbjorn leaned against the wall, a sulky expression on his young face. His eyes followed my every movement as I checked Sleipnir for soundness and fed him a handful of grain.

  “You needn’t be so sullen,” I said. “Would you rather listen to the blustering of a foolish king?”

  A smile peeked out at the corner of his mouth before he could hide it. “I am not sullen. I only wish my brother hadn’t sent me from the room like a page boy.”

  “He did you a great favor. Be thankful.”

  He walked closer until he was peering into the stall. “I remember this horse.”

  I patted Sleipnir’s neck fondly. “He’s difficult to forget.”
/>   “You weren’t riding him when you tried to kill me.”

  “I wasn’t trying to kill you, as I’m sure you well know.”

  His gaze met mine accusingly. “I wasn’t a worthy opponent?”

  “It wasn’t your skills that stopped me; it was my sister. The two of you must have been born the same year, and I saw only her face whenever I looked at you. I did my best to merely subdue you instead of taking your life.”

  Much of the bluster seemed to leave his stance. “We had a sister once, though I don’t remember her as well as Leif does. But I remember well enough, and I know what happened to her.” His hands clenched into fists. “That was why I stowed away against Leif’s wishes. I am her brother, too, and I should have a right to avenge her.”

  I touched Arin’s arm. “It’s a terrible thing to lose a sibling.”

  “She was murdered by the jötnar,” he said in a snarl, as though I had said nothing at all. “Her body was the only one that wasn’t just a splatter of blood and gore. They wanted us to know they’d slaughtered her.”

  A jolt of apprehension raced through me. “Why would you think that—that the jötnar wanted your sister to be found?”

  “Because it was obvious. She was the only one left. Why do that if they didn’t want us to find her?”

  “Yes, but why your family? Why single you out?”

  Arin stood a little straighter. “Because my father, and now Leif, are the greatest raiders in the north.”

  I could understand how they’d think the jötnar would challenge them in such a way, but there was something that made me think it was more ominous than that . . . a feeling that skittered up my spine.

  “I’m young still,” Arin continued, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t want my chance to defend my own family.”

  “It’s a worthy quest.”

  Arinbjorn looked almost eager. “Then you’ll convince Leif I should be part of it? That I, as Finna’s brother, also have the right to hunt them down?”

  I smiled and shook my head. “You overestimate my influence on your brother, I’m afraid.”

  “I don’t think I do. I have never seen Leif treat a girl as he does you. It’s almost like—”

  A terrible scream, agonizing in its intensity, rent the stillness of the stable. Arinbjorn and I froze, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.

  It came again, a keen ending in a strangled breath.

  I ran toward the source of the sound. Just outside the stable, a trail of blood darkened the hard, packed earth. I glanced back at Arinbjorn, who met my look with a grim expression of his own. The blood had splattered the side of the barn, and drops of it pointed the way to a dark corner.

  With a cold dread gripping me, I followed the trail, careful to mute my footfalls.

  There, in a dark corner, was one of the strange men from last night—the one with the nose like a snake. He loomed over the prostrate body of a young girl, his back to us. I stepped closer, Arinbjorn just behind me. The girl’s hair had broken free of its pins, and it spilled around her. Her soft brown eyes were glassy and unseeing, and with a start, I realized it was Aideen.

  A crunching noise brought my attention back to the man. He turned, and in his hands was an arm, torn from Aideen. The hand was curled into a fist; she had fought before it was torn from her shoulder. Chunks of flesh were missing, and I reeled with horror when I realized why. Blood dripped from the snake-nosed man’s mouth, staining his teeth red.

  Leif and I hadn’t been sure these men were inhuman, but now it was clear this was no mortal man. Though large by any human standard, he still wasn’t the size of a giant. His monstrous appetite, however, seemed to prove he was, no matter his size. I reached out with my mind but grasped at nothing; his gaze went everywhere but my eyes, and I needed that connection. I spied a nearby pitchfork and grabbed hold. Brandishing it before me like a spear, I said, “Leave the girl, or I will run you through.”

  The Northman fixed me with a grim smile. “Why? I think we both know you can do little to stop me. Besides, she is already dead, and her flesh is sweet.”

  Behind me, Arinbjorn retched, and my own stomach roiled. This was truly the work of the devil. “I cannot allow you to desecrate her body.”

  He dropped the arm with a sickening thud and spread his own arms wide. “Then let us pit our strengths and see who is the stronger.”

  Before I could move, the Northman launched himself at me, faster than should have been possible for a man of such size. He knocked me to the ground. I barely had time to raise my makeshift weapon before he was on me again. He landed three blows across my ribs, and I felt the bones bruise but not break. I forced myself to my feet again. Still he avoided making eye contact with me, as though he sensed my intentions.

  The Northman circled me like a shark, and Arinbjorn caught my eye, stalking toward him out of the darkness. Abruptly, the man turned, fixing the boy with his gaze. He charged like a bull, slamming into Arinbjorn’s middle. The breath was knocked from Arin in a rush, and he lay on the ground, stunned. I ran toward them, the tines of my pitchfork aimed toward the Northman’s gut. Before it could make contact, he dodged as agilely as a dancer. He used my own momentum against me, grabbing my arms as I ran by and flipping me onto my back.

  Arinbjorn shook off his daze and tried to push himself up.

  “Run,” I shouted at Arinbjorn. “Find Leif.”

  I pushed myself upright again, furious at the thought that I’d been knocked down not once but twice. I gave the stubborn boy a shove toward the castle before meeting another head-on assault from the Northman.

  I felt his flesh give way to my sharp pitchfork, and I stumbled back. He glanced down at the protruding wood from his side and pulled it free as though it were merely a thorn. After snapping it in half, he threw it on the ground at my feet with a taunting grin. His eyes locked onto mine, finally giving me the opportunity I needed to reach out with my mind.

  It was like being plunged into pitch-black darkness, like finding myself lost in a strange wood during a moonless night. A flood of vile emotions crashed over me: loathing, hunger for flesh, bloodlust. He wanted to tear me apart and eat the flesh from my bones.

  I struggled to maintain control of his mind, but it was as slippery as an eel. And strong. There was no way a mind this strong was that of a mere mortal.

  His hands shot out and wrapped around my slim throat. He lifted me until we were eye level, my legs kicking uselessly. I clawed at his hands. I pried at his fingers. My lungs burned, desperate for air.

  I will not die, I shouted in my mind. I will not be eaten.

  I clung to the weak hold I had on his mind until the pain in my head was like repeated blows from a hammer. Black spots appeared on the edges of my vision. I would lose consciousness soon, and then it would all be over.

  My eyes closed against my will.

  Then a great door appeared in my mind, bright light shining behind it. It was a dying girl’s hallucination, but I was still drawn to it. All at once, I remembered the seer’s words to me: that my power was a door. I still didn’t understand, but a part of me reached forward, the darkness all but taking over my vision, my body dying for lack of air. I wrenched the door open.

  I drowned in a sea of light.

  But then I could see in startling clarity. Again, I was above it all, looking down upon the carnage like a bird. I watched the Northman choke the life from me. I watched my legs continue to kick to no avail.

  My body was lit up like the sun, but the Northman was darkness itself. His body was smoke, black and fathomless. But in the very center was a pulsing red spot. I was drawn to it as I was drawn to the door. The arms of my body had no strength left, but this form, this floating ghostly form, had limitless power. I reached into the very core of his chest and grasped the red energy. It beat against my hand like a frightened bird, and I squeezed, crushing it in my fist.

  In a rush, I returned to my true body. The Northman’s hands fell away from my neck, and I hit t
he ground, gasping for breath.

  With a groan, I rolled to my knees, only to collapse again with a coughing fit. After a moment, I forced myself up again and stumbled toward the Northman.

  He was prostrate on his back. His eyes stared at the sky, cloudy and unseeing. I watched for several heartbeats, and his chest rose and fell shallowly. It was clear that he was dying.

  A jagged piece of the pitchfork handle remained. Without a moment’s hesitation, I staked the Northman through the heart. He made not a single sound as the life left his body. I thought of Aideen, and of Leif’s innocent sister, both slaughtered like animals. A chill of unease spread over me at this new power, but when I looked at Aideen’s abused body, I could only feel relief that her murderer was dead.

  Now the deed was done, the energy seemed to leave me all at once, and I swayed on my feet. My body ached as though I’d been trampled by wild horses, but I forced myself back toward the castle. I had to be sure Arin was safe, and Leif would need to be told; the other Northman would have to be dealt with—hang the consequences.

  The sounds of minstrels and the smells of roasting boar and freshly baked bread signaled the feast was well under way in the great hall by the time I made my way there. I cracked the door, aware that my gown was torn, dirt and blood had formed a paste on my arms and face, and my hair would be more fitting for a banshee. Every breath was searing pain through my injured throat, but this was no time to rest and recover. At first glance, I couldn’t find Leif in the room full of merrymakers and the bustling Dubhlinn court.

  By the grace of God, Arinbjorn walked into my line of sight, and I waved to catch his attention. He hurried to my side. “I’ve been searching for my brother but have only just discovered he is in private conference with the king,” he said in a rush. “Are you unhurt? You look . . .” He winced. “You look relatively whole.”