“Some. They wanted to sleep in their own beds this night, but we didn’t trust them enough.” He pointed to one of the longships in the middle. “Most are there.”
“So there are none you trust? What of the first captive we interrogated? He seemed honest enough.”
Arin swallowed visibly. “He hasn’t been a problem. I wouldn’t trust him with my life yet, but he seems battle-hardened.”
“I would speak with him, then,” I said, dismounting from Sleipnir smoothly.
Arin watched Sleipnir with a wary look. “I can get him for you,” he said.
“Not necessary,” I said, already walking toward the ship. My boots thudded dully on the wooden quay and were soon joined by Arin’s.
Arin shot me a sheepish smile, as though he didn’t want to be left alone. “I’ll come with you.”
Together we approached the longship, and even in the dark I could see it was beautifully built, sleek and streamlined. It creaked gently as the waves rocked it. Inside, I could make out the dark forms of slumbering men, but there was one who leaned against the mast, already alert to our approach.
I recognized his tall, wiry form as the man I was looking for. “I’m glad you’re awake,” I called out to him softly.
He straightened and made his way toward us, stepping over legs and torsos. “My queen?” he asked as soon as he had stepped off the ship.
Now that he was closer, I could see sweat beading along his thinning hairline, and a nervous cast to his eyes.
“I only wish to speak with you,” I said, as I took in our surroundings for myself. Was there something I had missed? Something to put this man on alert? I glanced at Arin, but he didn’t seem alerted to any unseen danger. “But first, I want to know your name.”
“Donal,” he said.
His gaze skittered away from mine, and I felt a twinge of pity. “Donal, when the sun rises, we’ll sail north. Dubhlinn will be left vulnerable.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “This is true, my queen.”
Again, I searched the quay for any sign of danger. “What are you afraid of, Donal?” My question seemed to take him by surprise, and he jerked. When he couldn’t meet my eyes, I realized the awful truth. “You’re afraid of me,” I said quietly.
Using fear to command men is for the weak. My father’s words whispered through my mind. Long had I fought under my father’s command, but I’d never seen him use such tactics to gain respect or obedience. I thought, too, of the Morrigan, how even the sight of her caused my skin to erupt in goose bumps. Was that what strangers saw when they looked at me? A monster hidden behind a woman’s form?
“Have . . . have you come alone?” Donal asked. “Not with your army of bones?”
I stilled, and beside me, Arin shifted uncomfortably. “Why would you call them that?”
If possible, Donal grew even paler. “When I look at them . . . I see only skeletons and red flames where their hearts should be.”
I thought of the way I saw my undead army. They were shrouded in mist, and it seemed to take a great effort to make out any details on their faces, but they didn’t look like skeletons to me. “They look like any other warrior,” I said.
“Not to me.”
“You have the sight,” Arin said, awe in his tone. “Were you Sigtrygg’s seer?”
Donal took a step back. “Seer? I—no. No, of course not.”
Arin looked at me with confusion plain on his face. I remembered how Sigrid was respected by the Northmen, or at the very least, tolerated. “The sight is considered heretical in our culture,” I explained. “Something only pagans use.”
Arin snorted. “No wonder you Celts were so easy to raid.”
I gave him a warning glare and returned my attention to Donal. “And what do you see when you look at me?”
“My queen, I . . .”
“No harm will come to you, Donal. I am only curious.”
He took a steadying breath. “Crows’ feathers in your hair, death at your side.”
I nodded slowly. I didn’t need a seer to tell me what such symbols meant. At least he hadn’t said I looked like a skeleton. “And when you think of our quest in the north? What do you see then?”
“I see you riding a horse made of fire instead of flesh, the ground quaking beneath you. Nothing else—nothing helpful. This sight never shows me anything but symbols and riddles.”
He sounded frustrated, and I could empathize. “Thank you for being so forthcoming with me, and I hope . . . I hope to earn your respect instead of your fear.”
He bowed his head as though ashamed. “What did you wish to speak with me about, my queen?”
“When we leave for the north, I would like for you to stay and advise those who remain behind. Will you do this for me?”
“It would be an honor,” he said, a tentative but relieved smile on his face.
I touched his shoulder and was happy when he didn’t flinch away. “Thank you, Donal. Rest in your own home this night, and in the morning, report to the castle courtyard.”
After thanking me, he hurried away into the night, and I turned to Arin. “What about you? Are you ready to sleep?”
Arin shook his head. “I’d rather sleep on the ship as we sail. Helps to pass the time.”
“Then help me find Oleif and Erik. With Donal’s touch of the sight, I think ten men should be able to hold the city, but I want their opinions on who should stay behind.”
I started toward another longship, but Arin’s words stopped me. “I’m not afraid of you, you know.”
I turned back with a smile. “I’m relieved to hear it.”
“That army you have is pretty terrifying, but you aren’t.”
I smiled and rubbed the top of Arin’s head. “Nothing should be terrifying to you after seeing what that monster did.”
He smiled, his teeth bright white even in the dim light. “I could help you fight one next time.”
His arrogance was so like his brother’s it was like a vise upon my heart. “You could not, and you will not. Any more talk like that, and I’ll be sure to leave you behind.”
“You’re as bad as Leif.”
I leaned in close. “I’m worse.” I straightened and moved away. “Now, come. We must find Erik and Oleif.”
He followed reluctantly, and I vowed to myself and to God I would not allow any harm to come to him—no matter how badly he might wish it upon himself.
20
The sun rose much too soon, and by the time I’d finished deciding who’d stay behind with Oleif, Erik, and Donal, I could only rest my head on Sleipnir’s neck and greet the sunrise with an irritable squint. Arin sat on the quay not far from me, his back against a post.
The men who’d slept on the ships now made the final preparations. I watched as two men wrestled with a massive wooden cage full of ravens, and my eyebrows drew together.
“Surely we won’t be eating those,” I called out to one of the men. The birds quieted at the sound of my voice, their eyes trained on me as one. It was eerie, but not in a threatening way.
The man glanced down at the cage before looking back at me. “We bring them to be sure we’re staying close to land.”
His words made a quiver of anxiety run through me. Soon we would be at the mercy of the open waters. The man carried the cage to the largest ship, and it was in the light of day that I realized there were distinct differences. The largest, which I recognized as Leif’s, had a prow that was so ornately carved it was almost beautiful. From a distance, all I’d seen was the gaping maw of the dragon, but up close, I could see the knotwork so lovingly carved. The sail had not yet been raised, but I knew it to be white with a bloodred skeletal dragon insignia. I only hoped it would strike fear in the hearts of the jötnar who saw it bearing down on them, as it had in mine when I saw it appear along the coast of Éirinn.
Beside Leif’s ship was another that was shorter by at least twenty feet, but much wider and sturdier. Onto this ship the men led various livestock, inc
luding many warhorses taken from the former king’s stables. Tarpaulins were secured in the middle, providing a semblance of shelter for the animals.
“I hadn’t realized you Northmen had different types of ships.”
Arin gave me that same look of surprise he always did when I showed my ignorance of his people. “You thought we only had the longships? But how would merchants transport goods or livestock?”
He had a point, of course. “Then that ship there”—I pointed to the one animals were being loaded onto—“is a merchant ship?”
He nodded. “We call it a knarr. The rest are longships, but Leif’s is the largest, with room enough for thirty-two to row.”
Just then hooves thudding dully on the quay alerted me to the approach of someone, and as I turned, I saw Leif with my army following. My army marched slowly but steadily until they reached the quay. I watched as one by one, they stood at attention, awaiting my command.
Leif guided Abrax until he was level with Sleipnir. Arin took one look at his brother and suddenly developed a fascination with untying a knotted rope far across the quay from us. I stood my ground as emotions warred within me: anger and frustration over his stupidity in trading his own life, but also that burst of joy I had whenever I saw him now. I tried not to drink in the sight of him, but I shamed myself by staring at him like someone dying of thirst stares at fresh water. How could I lose him? He dismounted, and I did the same. “You never returned,” he said, his expression guarded.
I tried to hold on to my anger, and I wove it around me like a shield against the hurt in his eyes. “I had to gather men who would stay behind. Dubhlinn cannot be left undefended.”
He moved closer to me, until I could feel the heat radiating from his body. “You ran away.”
“You told me you’d be dead at the end of this,” I said, unable to keep the anger from my voice. “All this time, we’ve been together, and you fail to tell me we might defeat the giants only for you to lose your life. You didn’t think it was something I should know?”
A muscle in Leif’s jaw twitched, and I couldn’t tell whether he was as angry as I was, or hurt. “It’s always been my burden to bear. I’ve thought of telling you many times, but always I decided not to. What difference would it have made? But last night, that all changed when . . .” He trailed off for a moment. “When I thought we’d do more than sleep. When I thought we meant more to each other. And when I did tell you, you left in the middle of the night without another word.”
I flushed. “I was angry, Leif. I’m still angry—both that you would do such a thing and that you let me grow to care for you as much as I do.” I swallowed hard as emotions threatened to boil up again; I hadn’t cried when I was exiled, and I refused to cry now. I looked into his eyes and saw the hurt I felt mirrored back at me, and suddenly, I realized being angry at Leif was pointless. He’d made his decision long before me, and there was more at stake now than just our relationship and feelings for each other. I didn’t have the luxury of wallowing in self-pity. “But I shouldn’t have left. I couldn’t bear to face it. I still can’t.”
He reached out and took my hand, his own warm and strong. “You care for me too?” he asked, a grin playing at the corners of his lips. I shoved his chest with one hand but didn’t let go with the other.
“I thought it was obvious. And now that we both know that, how can we go on when your life is forfeit at the end of all of this?”
His expression reflected the sorrow I felt. “We will go on as we always have—together. Either one of us can die at any point during this quest we’ve taken on; pushing each other away won’t make that any easier to bear, and the result would still be the same.” He tilted my chin up to look at him. “We’re stronger together, Ciara.”
“Then don’t die,” I said, my voice a whisper of pain. “There must be a way to change your fate.”
“I made a choice before I ever even met you, but if it helps, I do feel sorry for it now. I would do it again to avenge my sister, you must understand, but I’m sorry for it.”
I shook my head. “Then if you won’t find a way to undo it, I will.”
He laughed. “If anyone could change the fate of the gods, it’s you.”
I frowned—I knew he was trying to put me off. “Are you afraid changing your fate would mean you’d lose the strength you’ve been given?”
“I’m saying I didn’t enter into such a pact lightly, and I know the Valkyrie won’t suddenly change their minds or decide to be merciful.”
It felt as if he’d reached inside my chest and grabbed hold of my heart. “So you’re going to die. There’s nothing to be done about it. You’re just a lamb led to slaughter.”
He snorted. “We’re all going to die. I could’ve died at any point in this quest so far—there are no guarantees.”
“But if you survived until the end, if you finally succeeded in killing Fenris, then you’d still let yourself be killed by the Valkyrie.” I knew I was pushing him; I knew he wanted me to drop it, but I just couldn’t. I wanted to hear all the terrible details, even as it felt like nails hammered in my chest with each word.
His eyes met mine, and for just a brief moment, I saw it: the fear. It hurt me worse than imagining my own helplessness in his coming execution. But then he grinned. “I never said I wouldn’t put up a fight.” I let out a rush of breath, and he gave my hand a squeeze. “Enough of this. Come with me. I have something I want to show you.”
His smile was infectious, and I tried to push aside my worry, at least for now. He led me to the ship that was his, where it sat, graceful, long and narrow in the water. He helped me on board, and as the ship gently swayed beneath my feet, he led me to the stern. Two tarpaulins had been rigged so that a small piece of the ship was afforded some privacy; one cut off the stern from the rest of the ship while the other blocked the sun overhead.
I gave him a questioning look, and he answered by pulling aside the tarp. Spread out over the ship’s planks were soft furs, a trunk, and even a chamber pot. Tears of surprise and relief stung my eyes.
“For you, my queen,” he said with only the barest hint of a teasing smile. “It’s my hope that you’ll be at least a little more comfortable than the rest of us—protected from the sun, and most of the wind and rain.”
I felt my heart soften at his gesture. “This is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me.” I meant it.
His answering smile was wide. “I wanted to make this journey bearable for you. There’s nothing like being on a ship in the open water,” he said, pride lighting his face as he looked out at his ship. “Nothing like that rush of feeling when the waves threaten to topple you, but the ship glides atop them—nothing save a battle.”
“I still don’t understand how you Northmen navigate these seas. What if we lose our way?”
Leif snorted. “I have never lost my way. I use the sun and stars to guide me.” His face tipped up to the sky, and he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he nodded as if confirming something for himself. “The winds are favorable today, which means we’ll make good time.”
“How long until we reach Skien?” I asked, dreading the answer.
“We won’t be sailing straight into Skien,” Leif said, and I glanced up at him sharply. “We’ll be sailing to Bymbil, my homeland.”
“And what of Skien?”
He grinned. “You have become bloodthirsty.” He gestured toward the knarr, which had already begun to sink lower in the water with the weight of all on board. “You didn’t think I would deliver such prizes to Fenris, did you? These are treasures to profit my own village. Now that I have the army I set out for, my father will call upon every freeman who owes him a favor, and we’ll sail for Skien with an army far greater in number than Fenris has ever seen.”
His plan was a sound one, but a faint shadow seemed to pass over me, warning that no battle goes as planned. “We may win this yet,” I said, arguing with the shadowy feeling that had sneaked over me. I r
efused to fail this quest. “So how long will it take to sail to Bymbil?”
“Only a fortnight if the winds favor us.”
So long! Nausea churned within my belly as though I was already being tossed around by the waves. Could this narrow ship even survive rough water?
“Have you ever sailed through a thunderstorm?” I asked suddenly.
“The North Sea is rife with storms, but this ship has always weathered them. I’ll deliver you safely to the north, Ciara. You have nothing to fear.”
I nodded, my attention shifting to the men who were hanging brightly painted shields on the sides of the ship for storage. An impressive cache of weapons had already been stored under loose planks, but Leif and I continued to carry our own swords.
“Which ship will carry my army?” I asked. They stood as still as statues upon the quay, neither fidgeting nor shifting their weight.
“As one of our greatest assets, we should distribute them evenly on each ship.”
I knew this was in case the ship holding them sank, and I was once again struck by my fear of open water. “That is a sound plan, but what of Sleipnir?”
“The knarr is the only ship big enough for him, and I’ll be sure there is plenty of livestock—should his . . . appetite return.”
I frowned deeply. “Let’s hope it doesn’t.”
As Leif and their men made their final arrangements, I took one final look at Dubhlinn and prayed it wouldn’t be my last.
Despite my trepidation, when it came time to set sail, the excitement and pride of Leif’s men flowed through me, as energizing as a lightning storm. On each ship, thirty men rowed us out of port, while forty undead men clustered together at the stern. They would need no shelter nor food, and even the space they occupied was minimal, as they never moved. The seer was also on board with us and had chosen a place to sit far from everyone else—by the cage of ravens. Leif had made sure she was on the same ship as I was. I hoped I could make use of my time by practicing my abilities—I had a fortnight to master them.
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