“Well met.” His tone was more reserved, almost wary. He stared more briefly at Edie, then bowed his head to Vidarr. “My lord.”
The god said nothing, and the man’s guarded gaze shifted back to Satara.
“We weren’t expecting anyone to come interrupt us … let alone two does toting an Aesir.” A few of the men snickered behind him, and he grunted. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
“My name is Satara. This is Edie,” she said with a gesture. “I could ask you the same thing, my friend. What is a party of humans doing hunting in Odin’s territory?”
“I am Siggi; these are my men. We are faithful of Mighty Thor.” The hunter tipped his chin up. “He invited us to hunt here, in his father’s forest, in his name. What game we bring back will be our blót.”
Satara turned her head, taking in their surroundings. From where they stood, she could see a pack of wild boars snuffling at the treeline; just on the brow of the hill she’d left behind, there was a family of mottled deer. Even the river was so overflowing with fish that she watched five jump from the water in quick succession.
With a frown, she looked back at Siggi. “The valley is plentiful. Why waste time chasing after one stag when you could be bringing in all this?”
For the first time, the man broke into a smile. The ferocity of it threw up a red flag for Satara. “Because I want it. Imagine how nice a trophy like that would look on a mantel.”
“And all of your men have agreed to this?” She addressed the others: “You’d help one man get one trophy? Don’t you have families to feed?”
One of the men, who was sitting on the ground restringing his bow, looked up. His gaze clung to her body in a way that made Satara want to grow a hard shell to retreat into. “There are plenty of other trophies in this realm, if you know where to look. And free for the taking.”
She tore her eyes from him. It was easier to pretend he hadn’t spoken. “And how goes your hunt so far?” she asked. “What do you know about the stag?”
“It’s a buck,” Siggi offered readily, apparently unconcerned that these two women might take his quarry. “Seems to be in his rut, with the way he’s roving around.”
“They’re in season,” one of the men rasped behind them, his eyes glued to Edie. “Twenty does to a buck and every doe will still get bred.”
The necromancer blinked slowly. “Think I just threw up a little in my mouth, to be honest.”
Satara pressed, speaking directly to Siggi this time: “Where does he usually roam?”
“He does something of a circuit. Prefers those areas in the sun when he stops to rest. Follows the day and beds down in the west. We’ve seen him enter the thicket, but haven’t been able to track him there. Yet.”
“How long have you been tracking him?”
Siggi paused, then raised his chin again. His gaze had turned slightly colder; his tone was controlled, projecting what Satara could tell was false confidence as he answered, “A few days.”
Though she tried with all her might to suppress it, Satara could feel a wobbly smile start to spread on her face. “Ah. He must be … very elusive indeed.”
“He is,” Siggi returned sharply. “Has an uncanny knack for dodging arrows, hearing so keen it takes ten times as long to approach him, stride so great and quick he’s near impossible to chase down.” He planted his spear in the dirt and closed the distance between them. When he stopped, he loomed over Satara, so near that she could smell him. “But how does any of that concern you, girl? ”
“You still haven’t said what you’re here for,” one of the others said, a bit more timidly. “With the Wolfslayer, no less.”
Siggi filled Satara’s vision such that she couldn’t see his men, but she refused to break eye contact with him anyway. “I have been sent by Skuld’s Riders to track and slay a beast. Your stag.”
“Is that right?” he sneered. “You think two females can track that thing better than six veteran hunters?”
“More efficiently, certainly.” She planted her spear between them and leaned against it, hand over hand. He could scowl all he wanted; she wasn’t cowering.
Behind her, Edie spoke up. “There’s more than enough animals to hunt in this place. Some of them are so close you could literally kill them without moving from your spot, and there’d be enough for all six of you to do whatever you want with them.”
“I don’t care,” Siggi said, still staring into Satara’s eyes. “The stag is mine.”
“Yeah, well, she needs it more than you.” Edie stepped up to stand next to Satara, shoulders squared. “So back the fuck off.”
Cal was beginning to rub off on her.
“Edie.” Satara held up a hand. Her head felt cool, focused, each thought lining up neatly behind the previous one. A strategy was beginning to form. She smiled thinly at Siggi. “You’re free to do whatever you wish, of course. But I’ll also be tracking the stag. May the best hunter win.”
He snarled. “Stay away from it. Your stink will scare it off.”
Her chest burned with a white-hot heat. It took everything within her to keep her wings veiled. “It’s not my stink that’s been scaring it off these past three days, O Mighty Nimrod.”
Siggi took a step closer, seeming to swell as he raised his arm. Satara braced herself, ready to jump away, but in the blink of an eye, the hunter stilled with a gasp.
A wave of heat washed over her, and she was all at once aware of Vidarr standing next to her, his magic tickling her skin.
He had grabbed Siggi’s wrist in a crushing grip, fiery gaze boring into him. The hunter’s jaw worked soundlessly, pain making his eyes bulge. A moment later, the Silent God released him, shoving him into the arms of his men.
Vidarr didn’t need words to make his message clear. The men glared and Siggi sputtered, his face red as blood. He thrashed, pushing the other men away and pulling himself properly to his feet, but all he could muster was a pitiful, “May the best Norseman win,” before he stormed off. His men shot Satara and the others glances and glares over their shoulders as they followed.
Once they were out of earshot, Edie blew her bangs from her face. “Screw those guys.” Then, looking at Satara, “That was a pretty sick Bugs Bunny diss, though.”
“It was more biblical,” she responded wearily, casting her gaze to the sky. She couldn’t let that confrontation shake her; they still had plenty of sunlight. “This hunt sounds difficult. It’s been a while since I hunted deer, and I don’t have a bow.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Edie wiggled her fingers. “Um, how much of this beast do they need intact, exactly?”
There was a swell of magic, and both women looked in time to see Vidarr sign, «You must sever the head and present it to the Riders.»
Edie shrugged. “The head? I can just try not to aim for the head. Maybe … rot its legs so it can’t run, then you can get the killing blow?”
Satara cringed and bowed her head. Edie could sometimes be a bit more ruthless than she gave herself credit for. Perhaps it was an unwitting trait of hellerunan, or perhaps she was more like her father than she realized.
Either way, Satara had felt something when she’d looked at that stag, something that had made it hard to be quite as pragmatic about the situation. The way its strange beauty had compelled her had been almost heartbreaking; it was a supernaturally pure, simple being of magic. Had Edie not felt it?
“Satara?” She looked up to see Edie watching her closely. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” She started toward the treeline, giving the boars a wide berth. If this was what the Riders wanted—if this hunt was the only thing that could save her life—then she would do it. But it felt unnatural in a way hunting never had before.
Holding a hand up, she checked the direction of the wind, relieved to find that it was blowing to the east. Hopefully, with their scent covered, they would be able to sneak up on the stag. Regular deer had the most sensitive sense of smell in the animal kingdom and
could be frightened away by the smallest change; Satara had to imagine that a creature such as this would be even more attuned.
As they entered the forest, she spread her awareness. It was something she’d learned to do from a young age, growing up surrounded by woods. Most people went through life with blinders on, only looking straight ahead. But to thrive in the wilderness, you had to be aware of all directions at once, for fear of animals as well as some of the forest’s more malevolent denizens. There were forces out here, where you could only rely on your own perception to hold reality together, that didn’t abide by the laws of humans. Satara assumed that was doubly true for a god’s hunting lands.
Spreading her awareness was also necessary in tracking the stag. Every out-of-place twig, every depression in the pine-needle-and-leaf-blanketed forest floor, every scuff on the deadfall painted a picture of the beast’s route through the wood. Occasionally, she would glance behind her to make sure Edie and Vidarr were following comfortably. Out of the three of them, Edie was easily the loudest; the Silent God, true to his name, moved as quietly as mist.
They continued to follow the stag’s path. A few times, Satara was even sure she saw it between the trees, darting swiftly and quietly despite its truly massive size. It wasn’t until hours later, when the sun was drooping toward the horizon, that they followed it out the opposite end of the forest.
It had led them into a plain of long grasses that swayed in the breeze, covering the sound of their approach. She crouched slightly, praying that the direction of the wind wouldn’t turn against them. The creature was a mere thirty yards from them, now, where she could finally get a clear look at it.
Despite having been hunted for days and surely shot at, it didn’t seem to be wounded, though she could see a few gnarled scars peering through the silky fur of its haunch. She got the sense that this was an ancient beast, that it had lived to see hundreds if not thousands of mating seasons. She almost felt like she was looking at something she wasn’t supposed to—like she was looking at a god, despite an actual god looming just behind her.
She crept forward, trying to ignore the sickening feeling that pierced the base of her neck when she readied her spear. She could throw it an appreciable distance if she had to, perhaps hit something vital that way.
She glanced behind her, and Edie slid closer, weaving a death spell between her fingers as gently and quietly as she could. Vidarr stood at his full height, as if he wasn’t even trying to hide, but he was so still the beast didn’t seem to notice him.
Satara closed her eyes briefly before motioning to Edie, holding up three fingers. Now was as good a time as any. It wouldn’t be long before sunset.
She tried to ignore the apprehension prickling the back of her neck.
“On three,” she mouthed. “One … two…”
The beast stilled.
Satara signaled forward, giving the command, and Edie loosed a bolt of hissing-cold magic aimed at the stag’s back legs.
But before the spell even left her fingertips, the stag had raised its leporine head, the twinkling lights around its antlers bobbing. When it saw the bolt of blue light rocketing toward it, it darted to the side with a fearful bellow and began to sprint westward.
Adrenaline screamed through Satara’s veins as she jumped out of the grasses, reeling back and hurling the spear as hard as she could at the beast’s retreating form.
The stag was preternaturally fast. Instead of piercing it, the spear pierced the ground, quivering, the silver shaft gleaming yellow in the waning day.
With a curse, Satara pursued, wrenching her spear from the ground. Her feet pounded the earth as she ran. She could hear Edie close at her heels. For every yard they gained, however, the stag gained three, and as they followed it over the brow of a hill, it became obvious where it was heading. Far in the distance lay the thicket the hunters had mentioned.
Almost without conscious thought, Satara spread her wings, beating the air. In a moment, she was soaring over the plain, fast approaching her quarry. It was just a matter of who would reach the thicket first—her or the stag.
She was gliding above it now, feet poised forward like a falcon swooping for its prey. All she had to do was descend, hurl the spear one more time. She had a clear shot at the heart if she struck now.
She raised her spear.
Chapter Thirty-One
And she froze. And watched as the stag became only a streak of blue between brambles.
By the time Edie and Vidarr caught up to her, Satara had landed at the edge of the thicket and was staring in.
“You had him,” Edie panted, doubling over to rest her hands on her knees for a few moments. Her nose was wrinkled in confusion. “You had him…”
“I…” Satara shook her head, casting her gaze back over the plain. “I didn’t have a clear shot,” she lied after a moment. “I wanted to be sure I hit something vital.”
Edie huffed. “Should we follow him in?”
“It’s too dark. The sun’s beginning to set. It would be a fool’s errand.” Satara brushed her braids over her shoulders and fixed Vidarr with a cautious gaze. “Are we allowed to make camp?”
«Do whatever suits,» he signed back. «You have as long as your wings will last.»
She shifted her wings slightly and realized there was an ache in them she hadn’t noticed before. Göndul’s healing spell was already beginning to wear off, though the scars on her veins remained. Her mouth dry, she looked to Edie. “Let’s build a fire and make camp. We can go back to tracking it tomorrow. Maybe from here we’ll be able to see it leave the thicket in the morning.”
“Here?” the necromancer murmured, looking around. “We don’t have any equipment. Tents and stuff.”
“Right. We would be sleeping around the fire.”
Her dark brows shot up. “Right next to these creepy-as-shit woods. Without so much as a sleeping bag.”
Satara shrugged, suppressing a smile.
“You know I’ve lived my entire life in the city, right? I’ve only been inside an actual forest, like, three or four times.” Edie gestured into the thicket, then let her hand smack against her leg. “What if there’s, like, I dunno, Slenderman in there?”
Vidarr peered into the trees like he might be looking for the slender man she spoke of.
“A fire should keep away most of the animals.” Satara stepped away from the thicket, searching for a good place to set up. “As for anything else, perhaps an elf prince will beckon you into the forest.”
Edie trudged after her. “And I’ll say, ‘Nice try, Slenderman, but I’d prefer someone with eyes.’”
“Especially pretty gold ones,” Satara added under her breath. She managed a smirk over her shoulder and was met with a stormy scowl and bright pink cheeks.
“Or maybe orange ones?” Edie tilted her head an infinitesimal amount toward Vidarr, who was following them at a distance, and raised her brows.
Satara flushed. She must have given Edie a look, because the necromancer hurried to fall into step with her, lowering her voice.
“Yes?”
“Edie.” Satara averted her eyes, shoulders tense. “We’ve just met, and he’s a god. And I have a million more important things to be thinking about right now.”
“So? I mean, I assume it’s okay to just look.”
She suppressed the urge to glance back at him, sighing heavily. “I’m not immune. And he’s always … smoldering.”
“Literally!” Edie added.
Satara shook her head, finally stopping. The ground here was relatively soft, free of roots, and afforded a nice view of where the stag had disappeared. “We’ll set up here … I’ll figure out something for us to eat. There’s certainly no shortage of game here.”
“I’ll look for firewood and stuff, I guess,” Edie said, scratching the back of her head as she turned to the thicket. Awkwardly, she peered at Vidarr and asked, “Can you start a fire so I don’t have to be rubbing two sticks together like a caveman?”
>
He stared at her for a moment before looking at Satara, as if to say This is who you chose as your champion?
Satara frowned at him. “Just go with her. Trust her.” Normally, she wouldn’t make demands of a god, but she took exception to his skepticism. Edie was braver than he could ever imagine. Turning away, she mumbled more softly, “I’ll be over here. I need to think.”
She had to think about the stag, about how she would bring herself to kill it. And how she would quell the guilt and dread filling her body with every moment.
A trial indeed.
It got dark much quicker than Satara had anticipated, but Edie and Vidarr had managed to get a large fire lit by the time she returned with food. They’d even dragged some dead logs from the forest and set them up like benches—or maybe barricades, considering Edie’s wariness.
Edie offered up her machete and watched with fascination as Satara dressed the rabbit and gutted the fish, but they sat roasting them in relative silence. Crows clung to the treetops like black clouds, calling to one another until they were a roar of voices. It felt wrong to interrupt them, somehow.
But soon, they cleared out, and the cold night became oppressive around them.
Vidarr had rejected food. Satara wasn’t sure how often gods needed to eat, but she suspected that removing the grille mask from the lower half of his face was an ordeal of which this particular meal was not worthy. That was fine; she doubted the one rabbit she’d managed to trap and a few fish would be enough to feed a man his size anyway.
It did bring to mind the million questions she had about him, however. Though he could communicate with them when he needed to, it seemed he preferred to be nonverbal. Or perhaps he was simply used to it.
Either way, it was obvious there was a lot more going on than what he said. Satara could practically hear his thoughts racing as he stared into the fire.
She wanted to know more about him. Beyond whatever base attraction she had to him, he was a god, a son of Odin, and one she knew only a little about. When the food was gone and it seemed she and Edie had exhausted all possible topics of conversation to fill the creeping dark, she peered up at him.
Unholy Spirit (The Necromancer's Daughter Book 3) Page 32
