Chapter 10 Freya
Though our absence had surely been noticed, no one said anything about it as we continued our progress up the Rimstrom at dawn the next morning. Yet neither was I left to my own devices, for Steinunn joined me an hour into our journey. Together, we watched the banks of the river slip past, nothing beyond the rocky shore but endless trees and dense foliage.
“You followed me last night,” she asked, “didn’t you?”
“What of it?”
Steinunn’s lips pursed, and she appeared ready to retreat to the other end of the ship, but instead said, “I do not owe you an explanation but I will give you one so that you will understand that my actions against you in Skaland were just. That village was my home. I was wed to the love of my life, and together we had a son. I lost both in a raid.” Her voice shook ever so slightly. “A raid led by Snorri and his warriors.”
I said nothing, part of me having known this must have been the motivation for all she’d done.
“In Snorri’s pursuit of his destiny as king of Skaland, he believed he needed Bjorn’s magic to reveal the shield maiden and was willing to stop at nothing to take him back from Harald. His raid on my village was one of many that occurred as he fought his way up the Rimstrom to Hrafnheim.” Her chin trembled. “I was away when it occurred but those who survived told me how Snorri killed my husband, who was jarl, with his own hand. My young son as well.”
My stomach tightened. Logically I’d known that Snorri had pursued Bjorn using violence but had never once considered what that had cost the people of Nordeland. In truth, even if I had considered it, I might not have cared, for they were the faceless enemy. Yet faceless no longer.
“I wanted to die,” Steinunn whispered. “Wanted to stab my seax into my broken heart, because I had no reason left to live. But Harald arrived in time to stop me. Told me everything, including the plan for Bjorn to return to Skaland to change the future Saga had foreseen so that Snorri would never wear a crown. He asked me to seek vengeance by aiding in the plan, and, in doing so, gave me a reason to live.”
“I wish it had been any other way,” Harald said, having come to the fore of the vessel without me noticing, so caught up had I been in Steinunn’s story. “A good man, Jarl Dag. A loyal jarl. It is Odin’s good fortune to have him in Valhalla.”
“But my son is not with him,” Steinunn answered. “Not only was he robbed of life, he was robbed of the chance to join the Allfather. I will not rest until he is avenged, and then I will join him in Helheim.”
Harald rested a hand on her shoulder. “You will have your vengeance, Steinunn. Yet I hope you will reconsider leaving us and instead compose a ballad of our victory, including your family’s part in it, so that their legacy might live.”
“I cannot sing of their loss.” She wiped away tears. “Because to sing it would mean witnessing their end. My broken heart cannot bear that pain.”
“Perhaps if you did, then you’d understand how the rest of us feel when you sing our horrors for entertainment,” I said. “You told me once that no one cares to hear your stories, but the truth is that you are too much of a coward to sing of them.”
Steinunn’s face darkened with anger. “You hateful bitch!”
“Perhaps. But I have done nothing to you, skald. Whereas your actions cost the lives of those I cared for deeply. Be glad that all I give to you is contempt because I assure you, I am capable of far worse.”
Steinunn hissed a stream of curses as I turned my back on her, but stuck on the drakkar as we were, there was nowhere to go. We were all trapped together, enemies who had caused harm to each other. Who would continue to cause harm, and I wished desperately to be away from them. Bjorn most of all.
From the corner of my eye, I watched him at the rear of the ship staring at the passing trees. Silent, though he’d surely heard much of our conversation. I wondered how he felt learning that it wasn’t only his desire for revenge against Snorri that had driven Harald, but Steinunn’s as well.
“Vengeance is a circle without end.” Harald rested his hands to either side of one of the shields mounted on the vessel’s rail. “But Steinunn is a good woman, Freya.”
“No one on this ship is good.” I thought of Guthrum’s words, though I’d not seen any sign of him since the prior night. “Did she and Bjorn know they both served you?”
“Neither of them served me. It was their own vengeance they sought.”
I snorted. “Just answer the question, Harald.”
“Steinunn knew Bjorn’s goal.” He sighed. “Bjorn was unaware that Steinunn sought her own vengeance or even that she was Nordeland born.”
Surprise filled me. “Why? You didn’t trust him?”
“Bjorn was under a great deal of scrutiny.” Harald toyed with the rim of the shield. “If he’d known Steinunn was like-minded in goal, a connection would have formed between them that might have caused the same scrutiny to fall upon her. And she was our best source of information on everything that was happening.”
So I couldn’t hold Bjorn culpable for Steinunn’s actions. That didn’t mean he was absolved. Far from it. Changing the subject, I asked, “How much longer must we travel?”
“We near the Skjoldfjell.” Harald gestured upstream. “So not much longer now.” My eyes traveled to the twin peaks of a mountain that reared higher than any other in the range. Between them rested a glacier that formed the Rimstrom, and at the base of the mighty mountain was Harald’s stronghold of Hrafnheim. The seat of his power, and the next step on the journey toward the answers I sought.
True to Harald’s word, within a few hours I had my first look at the center of Nordeland’s rule. The rushing water of Rimstrom divided into two around a large island, which held the fabled fortress. Rising out of the water were walls I guessed to be at least fifty feet tall, made of blocks of stone covered with runes. Towers were equally spaced around the wall, and bridges jutted out over both branches of the river. It seemed to me that the bridges could be raised, for thick chains stretched between them and the walls. I wondered what sorts of giants of men were required to lift them.
The downstream end of the island had a gap in the wall flanked by towers, a thick chain stretched between them to block passage. As Harald’s banner was spotted by those on the watchtower, a horn bellowed and the chain began to rise. We drew closer, and my heart thundered in my chest, because the fortress of Grindill seemed a hovel by comparison. It made me wonder if what I’d seen of Nordelander strength in the raids was but the tip of the iceberg of the force Harald could muster.
Ropes were floated out to the drakkar. Tora and Bjorn caught hold of them and fixed them to the front of the vessel as the thralls drew in the oars. Then the drakkar was slowly pulled through the narrow gap between the towers, revealing a stone harbor that was large enough to hold perhaps two such vessels, though it would fit many smaller ones. Men and women hurried along the quay, tossing ropes to the thralls.
“In my youth before I became jarl, I traveled a great deal to other nations,” Harald said. “Saw fortresses and cities of a scope beyond my wildest dreams, and I studied the art of their construction. When I became jarl of Hrafnheim, it was made of wood and rushes. With years of labor, it has become what you see now.”
“Labor and wealth stolen in raids on Skaland.” I gave him a saccharine smile. “I am surprised the stone is not red.”
Rather than taking offense, Harald only shrugged. “Raids on Islund, to be accurate. They have made themselves wealthy plundering lands to the west, and so we take only what they took from others.” He gestured to his thralls, whose eyes glittered behind their hoods. “Most of my Nameless were warriors of Islund who attacked Nordeland’s shores. They discovered that we are far from defenseless and paid a heavy price for their hubris.”
“Was the price their tongues?” I remembered what Bjorn had told me about Ragnhild after he’d cut off her head. She’d been able to speak directly with Harald because he held her token—her tongue. “I’ve never known thralls to be this silent.”
“The price they paid for their crimes was losing their names and their reputations, but yes, also their voices. Open your mouth.” Harald snapped his fingers at one of the thralls—a man with thick arms, the snarling teeth of a wolf visible beneath his pushed-up sleeve. He obediently opened his mouth and held out his tongue. On it was a brand of a rune I did not recognize.
“Magic,” I murmured, horrified that it could be used in such a way.
“I did not just learn about building fortresses in my travels.” Harald nodded once at the thrall, and the man obediently closed his mouth. But he still watched me, and his unblinking eyes made my skin crawl. “In other places, there are other gods. And other powers. Perhaps one day you’ll have the chance to see for yourself.”
If this was the sort of magic in these other places, I was happy enough never seeing them but I kept my own mouth shut as the drakkar was pulled against the quay.
Hrafnheim buzzed with excitement. From all directions, civilians and warriors alike flowed toward the harbor, all waiting in obvious anticipation. My skin prickled, and to my left I found Bjorn had an expression on his face I’d not ever seen before. I hadn’t the words to describe the precise emotion, but it was the look of a man who has returned to the place of his heart after too long away.
Yearning.
That was the word.
As I realized it, anger filled me. “You told everyone this was your prison. But this is your home, isn’t it?”
“You are my home, Freya,” he answered. “Everywhere else is just a place to lay my head.”
I bared my teeth, not caring if I looked feral because his words made me remember all the promises he’d made that were now lies. Made me remember how, for a heartbeat, I’d thought I’d had everything only to realize it had no more substance than smoke on the wind. I willed my anger to rise and drive away the hurt, but it was as though my rage had consumed all its fuel, leaving behind nothing but glowing coals.
Harald leaped out of the drakkar onto the quay to the cheers of those watching. “We have returned victorious!” he shouted. “We have liberated the shield maiden from Snorri, and she will change the fate of all who cross her path, for she is the child of two bloods! Daughter of Hlin and of Hel!”
Shock stole my voice, because I didn’t understand why he had chosen to announce my presence. It might well be true that Snorri would discover I was here eventually, but this was akin to Harald inviting Skaland to his doorstep.
Shouts of astonishment filled the air, and Tora nudged me in the ribs with one elbow. “Get out,” she muttered. “And don’t make a scene.”
I climbed out of the ship and onto the quay and stood with my arms crossed while everyone gaped at me. Someone pushed a shield into my hands, and I stared at it, knowing they wanted a demonstration of my power. Proof that the lives lost in my taking had achieved something. Memory of black roots exploding out of the ground to drag warriors down into Hel’s domain filled my mind’s eye. Her power. And mine. The darker half of me that I’d always known existed: harsh, greedy, and indifferent to the plight of others.
The part of me that had enticed Harald into allowing me to live, but the truth was, she terrifiedme.
So I whispered Hlin’s name and reached for the magic that was my old friend, and a brilliant glow flowed over the wood of the shield. The king of Nordeland gave me a slight smile, as though he understood my choice, and then he shouted, “And greater news still, my people! For my son and heir, Bjorn, has returned to us!”
There was no mistaking the delight in the eyes of these strangers. Dozens of them called out Bjorn’s name as Harald slung an arm around his shoulders. Not a prisoner. Never a prisoner.
They ventured into the crowd and the people touched Bjorn’s arm. Clapped him on the back and gave him well wishes. The smile on his face was a knife to my gut. Never once had he behaved this way in Halsar, always distant and aloof even when he’d been eating, drinking, and laughing with my people. Because they had never been his people.
Biting my lip, I handed off the shield and gave no protest as Tora guided me onward. We followed Bjorn and Harald deeper into Hrafnheim, and I drank in everything around me. While the walls and exterior of the fortress had been of foreign construction, the buildings inside were familiar in style. Yet what struck me was the incredible number of wards carved into every wall and door. I had no notion of what they meant, but from time to time, one would flare bright. “What are the wards for?”
“Protection,” Tora answered.
I flexed the fingers of my right hand, which were painfully stiff from neglect, and asked, “Protection from what?”
“Fire. Pestilence. Flood. Islund.” Tora looked down at me. “Skaland.”
The idea of attacking this fortress seemed like the sort of madness that no jarl would consider, but that had been Snorri’s goal when he became king. To rally the clans all across Skaland into a unified force capable of taking on these defenses. Yet looking around at the endless wards, part of me wondered if even that would have been destined to fail.
Harald’s great hall was at the center of the town, and though it was large, it was not half as large as what I’d expected. It was formed of thick timbers with a steeply pitched roof formed of wooden shingles. The walls were carved with runes larger than I was tall, as were the twin doors, though they were also carved with elaborate knotwork that must have taken the woodworker half a year to create. Large statues of wolves guarded the entrance. The work was remarkably realistic, eyes formed of glass so flawless that I swore they must be alive.
Then the white one moved.
It stretched, nose to the ground and arse in the air, then trotted with long strides to Harald. He dropped to his knees to pet the wolf with enthusiasm, and the black one trotted over to share in the attention.
“Skoll and Hati,” Tora said. I stared at the massive wolves, which had to weigh as much or more than most men. Were these the sons of Fenrir in truth or just their namesakes? Both animals had designs painted on their furry foreheads and collars of silver around their necks.
“Do they chase the sun and moon?” I watched as Skoll licked Bjorn’s hand, seeming to know him.
“No,” a familiar voice said.
Skade stepped next to me, the mocking tone of her voice identical to the one that she’d used toward my mother right before she’d killed her. “But run, and they will join me in the hunt for you.”
Both wolves chose that precise moment to turn their heads to regard me, the intelligence in their eyes far beyond what I’d ever seen an animal possess. A shiver passed over me. “Did you find your quarry?”
“Within the hour,” she replied. “And then I found a fast horse. No one ever eludes my hunt, Freya. Remember that.” Lengthening her stride, Skade disappeared into the hall.
“Beware her,” Tora said beneath her breath. “In Bjorn’s absence, she has been our king’s right hand and she has a jealous nature.”
“Shouldn’t you be warning him?” I muttered back.
“No.” With that cryptic response, Tora stepped through the doors and I was forced to hurry to catchup.
Inside, a wave of warmth and the scent of woodsmoke washed over me. The feasting space was full of large tables and benches that were overlooked by a dais with two thrones. The upper level was supported by thick pillars carved with depictions of the gods, and in the center, a large stone hearth burned, smoke rising to the opening above.
Servants were already at work loading the tables with casks of mead and wine. The smell of grilling meat caused my stomach to rumble. Moving away from Tora and Skade, I stopped before the dais and stared at the thrones formed of antlers, the seats cushioned with thick white pelts. One was larger than the other, the smaller of the two somehow… feminine. Turning to Harald, I asked, “Who is your queen?”
The king of Nordeland rocked on his heels and cast a sideways glance at Bjorn, then he said, “Saga is my wife, but not my queen. She has no wish to rule, but I keep the seat for her should she change her mind.”
I blew out a slow breath from between my teeth, because the answer seemed so obvious now. The way Harald spoke about Saga. The way he had named her son as his son and heir. “I would like to go to speak to her now.”
“It is nearly a two-day journey to her cabin,” Bjorn said. “To be around people is a burden for her, as she sees their futures, good and bad, and it weighs upon her. So just as in Skaland, she lives in isolation.”
My eyes narrowed, suspicion filling my chest that all of this was more lies. That Saga was dead in truth, all of this a fabrication to manipulate me. But then Harald said, “Bjorn will take you to Saga. But first we have planned a feast for you.”
I didn’t want food. I wanted answers. “I wish to go to Saga now,” I said. “But I wish for you to take me, not Bjorn.”
“As much as I desire to see the woman of my heart, it is not possible for me to leave Hrafnheim right now. There is much requiring my attention after my long absence, none the least making plans to deal with Islund’s raids.” Harald tilted his head. “If you wish to wait a fortnight, I would gladly accompany you.”
“I don’t wish to wait.” I lifted my chin. “Anyone may guide me but him. I do not wish to be in his presence.”
“And I do not wish to deny the love of my life a visit from her son, from whom she has been long absent.” Harald’s tone was flat. “My goodwill stretches only so far, Freya. Be careful of testing its limits, especially when it comes to Saga’s happiness. She has endured enough hardship, and I won’t allow you to cause more.”
I bit my lower lip, torn for many reasons, including some I was unwilling to admit to myself.
“Bjorn is leaving at dawn to visit his mother,” Harald said. “Go with him or wait a fortnight and travel with me. Your choice.”
I closed my eyes because I didn’t want to be alone with Bjorn. Didn’t want to sit across a fire from him, or walk by his side, or sleep near him under the stars, because it hurt too much. Every time I looked at his face, I was reminded of how happy I’d been for that singular moment, and then the sensation of being gutted when the truth had been revealed. “Aren’t you worried he’ll try to steal me again?”
Bjorn gave a soft snort that sounded a great deal like ‘ I don’t have a death wish, ’ but Harald only shook his head. “No. But I do worry that you might take revenge on my son in his sleep, so I will send Skoll and Hati to protect him.”
“I don’t need your pets to protect me from Freya, Father,” Bjorn said.
Harald burst into laughter as though Bjorn’s words had been the greatest of comedy, then he wiped his cheeks and said, “The wolves will come with you, my son, and you will leave at dawn.”
“Seems unnecessarily early.”
All amusement vanished from Harald’s face. “Your absence these long years has taken a toll on your mother, boy. While Freya has a choice of whether to go with you or not, you will ride to see your mother at dawn without argument.”
Everyone in the hall fell silent. For my part, it was because of the weight of authority in Harald’s voice. A tone I’d not heard him use but which reminded me that he was king of all of Nordeland for a reason. Bjorn alone appeared uncowed as he stared Harald down in a battle of wills, though whether it was over the request itself or the fact it had been delivered as an order, I didn’t know. Bjorn’s gaze moved from Harald to me for a heartbeat, green eyes dark with some inner debate, and then he said, “As you say, Father. I’ll leave at dawn.”
The tension dissipated in a rush and everyone, including me, took a breath.
Guthrum chose that moment to enter the hall with Kaja flying overhead to perch upon the rafters. He inclined his head. “No signs of pursuit up the Rimstrom, my king,” he said. “By your leave, I would return to the coast so that Kaja might journey across the strait to see what plans our enemy makes against us.”
Harald held up an arm and the bird flapped down to land upon his wrist, claws digging deep enough that it must have hurt. Yet he showed no reaction. Only stroked a gentle finger over her feathers. “Keep a wary eye, Kaja. And show care, for Snorri is no fool and his archers have skill.”
Kaja ruffled her feathers as though the very thought of being caught was foolishness, then took to the air and soared out the open doors. “You show care as well, my friend,” Harald said to Guthrum. Digging into his pocket, he extracted a chain festooned with tiny silver medallions, which he tossed to the man. “The southern merchants bring unbiased gossip, most especially when their cups are kept full.”
Guthrum touched the silver armband above his elbow and nodded. “Yes, my king. I’ll send a message the moment Kaja returns to me.”
He left without another word and Harald moved to sit at a table, pouring himself a cup from the pitcher that sat at its center. “It’s only a matter of time until Snorri confirms you’re here, Freya.”
Sweat broke out on my palms at the reminder. Not just because of the consequences for me or for Nordeland but because Geir and Ingrid were under Snorri’s control. Would he harm them out of spite or attempt to use them against me once again? The clamminess of my palms intensified, icy sweat dripping down my spine because if Snorri sent a direct order for me to return, would I be able to refuse him? Or would my oath bind me to obey him and force me back across the strait whether I wanted to go or not?
I desperately tried to remember the exact words that I’d sworn that night, but my mind was a chaos of anxiety and the phrasing kept mixing up in my head. Dismay was rising on the faces of the Nordelanders as though they, too, had thought we’d have more time. Steinunn’s hands twisted the fabric of her skirts, Skade touched the seax belted at her waist, and Tora stared blankly at the floorboards, tension growing with every passing moment.
Then Steinunn blurted out, “It will be as it was when he was desperate to claim Bjorn. As long as he can muster the men or afford mercenaries, Snorri will never cease trying to claim his destiny, which means doing whatever it takes to get his shield maiden back. How many Nordelanders will die in his attacks as he attempts to reach her?” Steinunn’s voice broke and she coughed to clear it. “Saga, who has seen visions of the future granted to her by the Allfather, said Freya must die to prevent Nordeland from falling to darkness and we have all suffered to achieve that end. Yet Freya stands here as a favored guest. I say we kill her and send Snorri her head so that we might have a chance at a better future.”
“I agree with Steinunn.” Skade’s bow appeared in her hands. “The risks that come with keeping Freya alive are obvious. The advantages much less so. Especially given she has made it clear she will not fight for Nordeland. She is a liability, my king. Put her down.”
“Put her down!” Steinunn cried out.
Bjorn stepped in front of me with his axe in hand, and it reminded me that I was unarmed. Steinunn was no warrior but she had a seax at her belt and unfated as she was, Hel’s magic was no threat to her.
“And you!” Tears flowed down Steinunn’s cheeks, a lock of her light brown hair sticking to the dampness. “You betray us all by defending her. And why? Freya hates you, Bjorn. She has made that clear, yet you trail after her as though you believe that time will make her forgive you. But I assure you, it will not. So you betray us for nothing. How much more must I lose because of you?”
“It was Snorri who killed your family.” Bjorn took a step in Steinunn’s direction only to shift his stance as Skade made to circle around him. My eyes jumped wildly around the hall to fix on a shield mounted on the wall. If I could get to it before Skade shot her arrow, I might have a chance.
“For years you lived in Snorri’s house,” Bjorn continued. “For fucking years, Steinunn, and I know for a fact he showed no caution or care around you. You could have killed him a hundred times over and did not.” He gestured to me. “You could have put a knife in Freya’s back just as easily but did not. Your tears ring hollow given that you could have achieved all that I failed to do but chose not to because you’re too much of a coward.”
“Then I will do it now!” Tearing her seax free of her belt, Steinunn lunged. My heart lurched. Not out of fear for myself but fear that this burst of bravery would cost the skald her life.
But then Harald was between her and Bjorn. How he’d moved so swiftly, I couldn’t have said. Only that one moment he was seated and the next he had Steinunn by the wrists. Her blade dropped from her hand as he spoke soft words that I couldn’t hear, and then she rested her forehead on his shoulder, sobbing.
“Saga told you herself that death was no revenge on Snorri for he would only find glory in Valhalla,” Harald said, this time loud enough that I could hear. “True revenge can only come from denying him the fate that was foreseen, as then he will fall into a spiral of obscurity and despair that will end in an inglorious death that earns no place at the Allfather’s side. Is this not the revenge you seek, Steinunn?”
“It is,” she choked out. “But Saga said that the only way it would be achieved is with the shield maiden’s death, so why do you protect her?”
“Saga said the only way it could be achieved is if Snorri lost control of the shield maiden.” Harald hooked his thumb on his belt, expression thoughtful. “We’ve always interpreted her words as demanding the certainty of death. But what if there is another path?”
My heart galloped in my chest and my body warred between whether it should fight or flee, for my life felt very much in the balance.
Steinunn lifted her head, brow furrowed as she stared into Harald’s eyes. “Are you certain?”
“No,” he answered. “And I will not deny that I am motivated by the thinnest thread of hope in suggesting it, for my son loves this woman and I’ll risk much for his sake.”
Squeezing Steinunn’s shoulders, Harald stepped away from her. “There is but one person who can confirm whether my hope is a strategy to be pursued or a fool’s dream, and that is Saga. If she says the only choice is to kill Freya, then in the name of Odin himself, I swear that I will see it done. But if Saga says there is another path, then I swear that I will stand in the way of any who attempt to do Freya harm. Does this content you, Steinunn?”
The skald wiped at her eyes, then gave a tight nod. “Yes, my king.”
I exhaled the breath I was holding, this exchange not at all what I’d been expecting. Nor did I know what to make of it, only that a spark of hope had bloomed in my heart and it was not dimmed by the knowledge that it hung upon a nuance of phrasing. On there being another way for Snorri to lose control over me other than death. Nor was the spark dimmed by the very real threat to my life if Saga dashed my hopes to dust.
Yet despite the promises that Harald had just given, Bjorn’s axe still burned bright in his hand. “You understand that if my mother demands that Freya must die, you’ll have to kill me first?”
Before my eyes, Harald’s face seemed to grow older and more haggard, as though this admission were draining the very life from him. “I understand, my son.”
Bjorn’s axe flickered out. “I don’t think I should wait for dawn.” His head turned, our eyes locking. “If you are in agreement, Freya, I think we ride out now.”
The tightness in my throat that had been troubling me so long eased and I drew in a breath. “Agreed. But I want my own horse.”