The Girl the Sea Gave Back

by Adrienne Young

  But it seemed as if the battle in the glade would be the last, all of its power used up. The war headed for Hylli would likely take all our lives and we would be given less than Aghi had been given in death, with no one to burn our bodies or speak the ritual words.

  “What does the symbol mean?” I said, catching a tear at the corner of my eye before it could fall.

  Kjeld looked up at me. “What?”

  “The symbol on the girl—the eye.”

  “The marks are a kind of identification, they are all different for each person. But the eye is … Only the women in her lineage have that mark,” he answered.

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s the symbol of a Truthtongue.”

  I got to my feet, sliding the knife back into its sheath. “So, she’s like a Tala?”

  “The Kyrr don’t have Talas.”

  Asmund looked between us. “Then what is she?”

  “What do you know about the story of Naðr?” Kjeld asked.

  “Not much.”

  He leaned into the outcropping of rock beside him. “The god Naðr had a twin sister named Lími. But Lími was fated to die. Naðr buried her sister on the headlands and swore vengeance on the Spinners for taking her life. As an offering, the Spinners gave Naðr a mortal child with the eye marked on her chest. They called her the Truthtongue and promised that every woman born into her lineage would have the ability to read the runes and see into the future. Naðr accepted the offering and for generations, the child’s descendants have led the Kyrr and cast the stones.”

  “You mean she can see the future,” I said, studying him.

  Kjeld nodded. “She’s casting the stones for the Svell. It’s the only reason I can think of that she’d be with them.”

  An uneasy silence fell between us, the wind stilling.

  Asmund ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “So, are the Kyrr with them or not?”

  “No. They’d never join with the Svell. They’d never join with anyone.”

  “Then why is the girl with them?”

  “I don’t know. But it means the Svell are probably even more dangerous than you think they are.” He stared at the ground between us.

  I tightened my fist, letting the last drop of blood fall to the earth. I had known the moment I saw her in the glade that there was something different about her. I’d felt it. And the farther from Ljós we traveled, it seemed the more I could feel her. My gaze moved up the hill, to the forest, where I’d seen her shadow in the dead of night. Only, I couldn’t have.

  Kjeld turned into the wind, looking out over the field. “Did you fight here? Before?”

  “I was too young. I only ever waited for my father and my brothers to come home from the fighting season, wishing I was with them.”

  “Did they die in battle?”

  “No, my father died of fever when I was six years old.” I looked down to the axe in my hands, where the engraving of the yew tree looked up at me.

  “And your brothers?”

  I smiled. “This place gave me one of my brothers.”

  He lifted one eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

  “And a sister. My father and my brother Fiske came home from the fighting season one year with an Aska boy named Iri who was nearly dead. I was very young. I hardly remember it, but he was gravely injured and my mother healed him, though no one believed she could. Then he became one of us. The next fighting season, both of my brothers went to Aurvanger and came home with Iri’s sister. Fiske fell in love with her.”

  I still remembered the day Eelyn first came to our home in Fela. I’d watched her over the edge of the loft, my eyes wide. Her hair was like ice, dark streaks of blood staining her tunic, and I remember thinking that she looked like a wild animal with the firelight shining in her eyes. My mother had said she had fire in her blood. We didn’t know then that the gods were going to make peace. And we didn’t know that they’d use Fiske and Eelyn to do it.

  “They changed the will of the gods and the fate of both our clans,” I said.

  Kjeld eyed me skeptically.

  “You don’t believe in fate?” Asmund turned to him.

  Kjeld looked amused by the question. “No one can change the will of the gods.”

  “How do you know?”

  His eyes met Asmund’s and then mine for only a moment before they fell back to the water. “Because I’ve tried.”

  His voice changed, the hard edge of it fading. He reached up to the collar of his tunic, pressing his fingers to a pair of leaves at the side of his throat. They seemed to move as he swallowed hard, the glimmer of tears shining in his eyes.

  “Halvard…” Asmund went still, his hand going to his sword as he looked up and over me, to the ridge.

  I turned, searching the sky for what he saw. Over the rise of land to the south, a stretch of blue sky was visible through a break in the thick fog. There, a pillar of weak smoke drifted above the treetops.

  “Utan,” I whispered.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  TOVA

  The nighthawk called out in the darkness of the forest surrounding Utan.

  I stood behind the line of Svell in the silence, the sound of it crawling up my spine, its fingers wrapping around my throat like a noose and tightening.

  A warning. An omen.

  But we were far past any warning the gods or the Spinners could give us now. They flickered out like torches in the wind, only the scent of their smoke left behind. No one was listening.

  Gunther stood at my side, his sword pulled from its sheath, his eyes on the Svell warrior in front of him.

  “You have to do something,” I whispered to Jorrund. “You have to stop this.”

  He stood beside me, the look on his face betraying his thoughts. He knew it, in the pit of his stomach. He knew it in the shake of his bones. But beneath the murmured prayers and talk of the gods, Jorrund was a coward. He’d never speak against Vigdis. “There is nothing I can do,” he said, careful not to meet my eyes.

  The sharp click of tongues silenced the All Seer overhead and the Svell moved down the slope toward the village, leaving only Gunther behind. His tight gaze was pinned on the figures disappearing beneath the gate and over the fence that wound around Utan. He didn’t move, his sword still clutched in his hand, and I stepped forward, watching the sight of them melt into the black.

  I tried to tell myself that it was the way of mortals to find war. It was like kindling, just waiting for the smallest flame. But I couldn’t squelch the soft whisper hissing in the back of my mind. The one that wondered how many Nādhir were sleeping beneath those roofs.

  I looked up again to the darkening sky, but the nighthawk was gone, leaving only the faint light of the stars scattered across the expanse.

  Even the All Seer didn’t want to watch this.

  My hands balled into fists at my sides so tightly that my knuckles felt as if they were going to crack. “We have to do something,” I whispered.

  “Tova…” Jorrund’s voice pulled up in a warning I knew well.

  But I didn’t wait for him to finish. I stepped out from under the trees, pulling the air deep into my lungs and my jaw dropping open to scream. But then I was tilting backward, a hot hand pressed over my mouth. I kicked as Gunther dragged me back into the shadows and dropped me hard on the ground.

  “Do I need to kill you?” he asked calmly, standing over me. But even he didn’t look himself. His gaze pulled back to the village, the dread of what was about to happen heavy in his eyes.

  I glared up at him through hot tears, getting back to my feet. Even if I did scream, it was no use. There was no time for the people of Utan to escape. The Svell would swallow them whole and there was nothing I could do about it. In fact, I’d sent them there.

  I held my breath, listening as I bit down hard on my lip, trying to keep from trembling. The silence was finally broken by the whistle of a flaming arrow cutting through the air and I turned to face Jorrund.

  “There isn’t
a single god who looks favorably upon dishonorable killing,” I said unevenly.

  His eyes narrowed, his arms uncrossing. “This is war, Tova.”

  “That?” I raised a shaking hand, pointing toward the village at the bottom of the hill. “That’s not war. And there will be a price to pay for it.”

  Jorrund looked suddenly horrified, taking a step back from me. “Is that a curse on your tongue?”

  “I don’t need to curse you.” A single tear slid down my cheek. “The Spinners already have.”

  “What does that mean?” His words faltered, the fear taking hold of his voice.

  “The rune cast! Hagalaz. Your fate has been carved into the Tree of Urðr.”

  “That was before the glade. Now we’re set to take Hylli and the Nādhir will be gone,” he said, but he was growing uneasy. He was trying to convince himself.

  “You think the threat of the Nādhir is greater than the wrath of the gods?” My voice rose. “Everything Vigdis has done only ensures your fate. You can’t erase it.”

  Screams tore through the forest and I cringed, a sob escaping my throat. Below, the glow of fire was spreading across Utan, lighting it like a beacon. All seven hundred and sixty warriors had been ordered to descend upon the small village and now, they were consuming it like bears after a long winter.

  Gunther watched, his jaw clenched tight as the light of the fire danced on his face. The sharp clang of blades meeting found us and I sank down to the ground, wrapping my arms around my legs and burying my face into my skirts. I imagined the young Nādhir from the glade standing at the gate. Swinging his axe, his blue eyes like stars in the night. I didn’t know him. I’d never seen him before that day in Ljós. But still, a feeling like I’d betrayed him sank heavily inside of me, making my stomach turn.

  But it was the Spinners who’d shown me where he was. He was fated to die, too. He had to be. And I didn’t know Vigdis would order the army to Utan.

  “I didn’t know,” I cried, trying to make the words true.

  But it was no use. The closeness of the forest seemed to pull away from me, leaving me alone in the dark and the feeling of a thousand eyes on me crawled over my skin like a legion of worms devouring a corpse. Because even if the All Seer wasn’t watching, the Spinners were. And so were the gods. There was no way to escape their notice. Not after all I’d done.

  I hadn’t planned the massacre in the glade but it was my rune cast that had justified it. I hadn’t ordered the Svell to Utan, but I’d summoned the Spinners to find the warrior who’d killed Bekan. I’d always known I was cursed. That something dark had marked me. It was the only reason the Kyrr would have sacrificed my life. Jorrund believed that Eydis saved me, but I knew the truth. She hadn’t saved me from Naðr.

  Naðr just didn’t want me.

  The screams softened, flickering out one by one until the silence of the night returned. Jorrund stood beside me, one hand touching my hair, but I pushed him off, getting back to my feet. We waited side by side in the minutes it took for them to lay waste to the village, until figures finally crept up the slope, moving back into the forest. The light of dusk caught the glistening of wet blood on armor and the warriors passed us, their gazes thin as they walked, the village of Utan aflame in their wake. I watched their shadows move in the trees until they were gone. I didn’t want to see any more.

  Vigdis and Siv were the last to appear. He marched toward us with Siv at his back, his chest heaving and his eyes cast up to me with the weight of a hundred stones. “They were waiting for us,” he growled.

  “What?” Jorrund spoke beside me.

  “They knew we were coming. They didn’t have a chance, but they knew.”

  Siv’s gaze fell to the ground as she slid her axe back into its sheath. Even she couldn’t justify the massacre.

  “And he wasn’t there.” Vigdis lifted his hand, rearing back and swinging his arm to slap me across the face.

  I fell to the ground, my hands sliding over the wet soil as my mouth filled with blood. The entire side of my face ignited with sharp pain as I looked up. He stood over me, the full fury of his stare set on my face as I spit into the dirt, wiping the blood from my lip. “He has to be. I saw it.”

  “You didn’t see anything. You lied to save yourself,” he spat.

  “I swear to you,” I stammered, “he’s here.” I went to the edge of the tree line and looked down to the village gate. It was exactly as I’d seen it in the vision. “Or, he will be. I…”

  “At dawn, we march to Hylli. If I don’t have his head in my hands, I’ll take yours instead.” He shoved into me as he stalked off into the darkness. “Stay with her,” he barked, meeting Gunther’s eyes as he pushed past him.

  “I don’t understand,” I murmured, staring at the gate. I’d seen him there. So clearly. I’d heard the voice of the Spinners. My body still ached with the memory of it, the poison henbane throbbing beneath my skin.

  “Tova, are you sure you…” Jorrund finally spoke.

  “I saw it!” I shouted, my voice breaking.

  They both looked at me, Gunther sliding his sword into its sheath. “Then, we wait.”

  Jorrund untied his cloak and set it onto my shoulders but I pushed him away, going to stand at the edge of the ridge alone. I didn’t want his comfort. I’d just sentenced a defenseless village to die and if there was suffering to be had, I was deserving of it. The only difference between Vigdis and me was the mark of the eye on my chest.

  The flames engulfed Utan below, and the bodies in the path lay still, a hollow silence falling over the cold forest. This is what Ljós must have looked like the night the Svell attacked. This is what would become of Hylli in only a matter of days, the sea inked red with Nādhir blood.

  My hand went to the small leather purse against my chest, the runes tucked safely beside my heart. I wished I’d never cast them. I wished I’d never been found on that beach. A slow, frozen death adrift on the sea was better than this. It was kinder.

  “If we don’t find him…” Jorrund said gently.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I murmured, my voice hoarse.

  “What doesn’t matter?”

  “Any of it.”

  “Why are you saying that? Of course it does.”

  “It doesn’t matter if Vigdis has my head or if the Nādhir appears and cuts my throat himself.” I turned to look up at him, the tears now streaming down my face. “Because you’ve made me a bringer of death, Jorrund. And there’s no offering of reparation for a crime like that.”

  “Tova.” He reached out to touch me, but I stepped out of his reach.

  I blinked, breathing through the pain in my jaw from where Vigdis had struck me, the iron taste of blood on my tongue. It wrapped itself around my heart and squeezed, the truth scorching inside me with the burn of a blacksmith’s forge.

  Hagalaz wasn’t only coming for the Svell. It was coming for me, too.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  HALVARD

  I kept my head down as we flew through the trees, the pounding of hooves following behind me as the horses climbed the hill.

  The Svell army had marched from Ljós in a horde, leaving the ground trampled into a soft pulp beneath us. Signs of them were everywhere, scraping over the trees and dragging through the brush. Their numbers had to be greater than what we’d seen only a day before and that thought made every muscle in my body wind tight as I pushed ahead. With their warriors called to Hylli days ago, Utan would have maybe thirty or forty of our people within its gates.

  Thirty people against eight hundred.

  I reached back and pulled the axe from my sheath, letting it fall against my leg and urging the horse faster. We found the worn path that carved down the mountain to the fjord and I fixed my eyes on the darkness ahead, waiting for the gate to appear in the trees. But I could already smell in the air what we would find there. Blood and ash scattered over the broken, fallen remains of a quiet inland village. We were too late.

  As soon as the g
ate came into view, I pulled back on the reins and slowed, dropping from my horse and leaving it behind as I ran on foot to the nearest thicket. The horses reared back, stamping the ground nervously with their heads craning, and Asmund and Kjeld sank down beside me as I watched the forest.

  Asmund clicked his tongue before he made his way across an opening in the trees and I followed him to the brush that crested the hill, overlooking the village. I got down, tracing the path from the gate to the ritual house with my eyes. There was no movement, but bodies were strewn in every direction, fallen in the dirt and inside the open doors of empty houses. The flames still worked at some of them, filling the entire village with smoke.

  I tried to shake the vision of Fela from my mind, the village I’d grown up in on the mountain. But I could still see it so clearly. The shadowed shape of the Herja spilling in from the trees. Hands dragging me into the forest, screaming. Everything burning in the snow.

  Asmund’s eyes flitted over the silent rooftops. “Maybe he didn’t make it here,” he said, almost to himself.

  I was thinking the same. From the look of the fire, the Svell had attacked only an hour or two ago. Bard should have had time to warn them, but it looked as if the village wasn’t empty when they’d arrived. If Bard was here, he was probably one of the bodies lying below.

  “Ready?” I waited for Asmund to meet my eyes.

  He answered with a jerk of his chin and Kjeld followed, not taking his gaze from the village.

  I grabbed ahold of the strap of my scabbard, wincing as I tightened it around my body. It pulled at the wound below my ribs as Asmund took the bow from Kjeld and nocked an arrow, ready to cover my trail. When he gave me a nod, I stepped out from under the cover of the forest and headed across the moonlit grass. The faint sound of a wolf howling echoed in the stillness and I pushed the breath out slowly as I sank low to the ground, trying to calm my racing heart. When I reached the gate, I crouched behind the wooden post, watching.

  Asmund made his way from the trees and found a place beside me, his eyes on the main path that led through the village. The mud still glistened around the army’s footprints in the soft earth. Behind me, Kjeld began to pray under his breath and the name of Naðr rolled on his voice like a song.