Chapter 17 Bjorn
I gave up on sleep as dawn painted the eastern sky, and silently rose to my feet. Freya was curled in a ball beneath a blanket, just as she’d been when I’d come back hours ago. It was the heavy sleep of too much to drink that never contributed to rest, and she’d pay for it when she woke. Yet I was careful not to disturb her as I crossed to where my mother slept, easing aside the curtain and poking her in the shoulder.
One green eye opened and gave me a dark glare.
“Get up,” I muttered. “We need to have words.”
She sighed but then dragged herself out of the furs and wrapped a heavy cloak around herself before putting on her worn shoes. I held open the door until she was outside, then shut it firmly. Skoll and Hati sat in the snow, and I said to them, “Watch over her.”
Not that Freya was likely to wake for several more hours.
The early light filtered through the frost-laced branches of the trees and a thin layer of snow crunched beneath our feet as we walked. This high in the mountains, it already smelled of coming winter, and it would not be long until the lush vegetation turned brown under the onslaught of bitter winds. I said nothing until we were far enough away from the cabin that Freya wouldn’t be woken by what would be a heated conversation. “What the fuck did you say to her, Mother?”
She crossed her arms and glared up at me. “Mind your tongue, boy. I’ll not tolerate such language from one whose arse I wiped as a babe.”
I cast my eyes skyward, beseeching the gods to grant me patience.
Yet rather than continuing to berate me for my language, my mother’s voice turned cold and serious. “The stakes are high, Bjorn. Once Snorri determines that Freya is in Nordeland, he will stop at nothing to get her back. You know this, for he once did the same for you. The cost was great and many people died, but when he comes for Freya, it will be far worse.”
I exhaled. “I know.”
“Are you aware that she is bound by a blood oath to Snorri?” she asked. “To secrecy as well, although I was able to discern much.”
“I’m aware, though it was only last night she told me the entirety of what she swore.” When she glared at me askance, I repeated Freya’s oath, “?‘I vow allegiance to him who is of this blood. I vow to protect, at all cost, him who is of this blood. I vow to speak no word of this bargain except to him who is of this blood.’?”
My mother’s jaw tightened. “Better and worse than I thought. I only suspected the allegiance and the silence. Ylva is as thorough as always, though. She knows even a leashed hound can turn on its master.”
“She can’t harm him.” Memory abruptly filled my head of those final moments we spent in Grindill. How Freya clearly wished harm upon Snorri but had not acted, and he’d laughed at her and said, You swore your own oaths, Freya, so it seems both my fate and life are safe from you.
Why hadn’t I killed him when I’d had a chance? Challenged him. Put a knife in his back. Cut his throat when he was sleeping. Why had I done none of those things? Why had I been so obsessed with keeping my promise to my mother? “How is it better than you thought?”
“I know little of blood oaths.” My mother’s expression was grim. “But allegiance and protection…They are both words open to interpretation. How Freya is bound by them is determined by what she felt the words meant when she swore them. The magic may have been Ylva’s, but the limits of the oath were determined by Freya herself.”
“She probably doesn’t remember,” I said, hating how fear had driven Freya to such a desperate bargain. “She was desperate.”
“Yet another reason to hate the creature who sired you,” my mother growled, then gave her head a sharp shake. “Even so, we can glean her limitations by her actions. Allegiance does not demand she remain at Snorri’s side, nor does it seem to command her loyalty.” Her eyes grew distant and thoughtful. “She was raised to believe that allegiance to one’s jarl meant obeying a call to arms and fighting on his behalf.”
“So she’s obligated to fight for him if he can call her to arms.”
“A call which he’d have to communicate to her in some fashion, and we can prevent that.” My mother gave a nod of approval. “As to protection…”
“It does not extend to protecting his feelings,” I muttered. “Of that, I can attest.”
My mother laughed, slapping her hand against her thigh. “I have no sympathy for you on that count, Bjorn, so do not weep to me about your wounded heart.”
I glared at her. “She cursed me to Helheim after she discovered my lies. Hel’s magic manifests as roots that drag the souls of the living down into the earth. They took all of Harald’s warriors but me, Harald, Tora, and Skade, but only because we were able to fight them off.” Even now, I remembered the strength of those roots wrapping around my legs, the tug from within as they attempted to extract my soul for Hel. “If she can curse me, then she can curse Snorri.”
“So she is not bound to protect your feelings or your soul,” my mother said. “But I think it safe to assume she is bound to protect you from physical harm, even at the cost of her own life.”
I gave a tight nod knowing no oath was required on that front. Freya risked her life for others without question. It was who she was at her core.
“The solution is obvious,” my mother continued, interrupting my thoughts. “You must take Freya and lead Snorri in a direction other than Nordeland. Keep her far enough ahead of him that he cannot communicate with her himself, or through others. Once you are far enough away, disappear entirely and never come back. Live a beautiful life together that is wholly different from what I envisioned.” Her bottom lip quivered. “I’ll know you have succeeded when the vision I have seen fades from my mind’s eye, and I will be content.”
It seemed far too easy, and I remembered Harald’s caution about trying to outrun fate. “This is what you and Freya discussed? She agreed?”
My mother looked away. “ Agreed is a strong assessment, although I think her reticence has more to do with her conflict with you than disagreement over the validity of the plan. I aimed to grease the path to forgiveness for you, but I suspect that you bungled my efforts entirely.”
However she’d greased the path to forgiveness had made more of a mess of Freya’s heart than before. “She’s not forgiven me, Mother. Not really. Nor should she, after what I did.”
“The pair of you will be the death of me.” She kicked at a tree root with the toe of her shoe. “You were in the right, Bjorn. Freya is being selfish and childish if she doesn’t see that, so you ought to work to put her mind on the right path.”
I took a step back, disliking that sentiment, but then my mother pressed her hands to her face. “Forgive me. Fear poisons my tongue because every time I close my eyes, I see Freya standing in the shadow of the Skjoldfjell and gazing out with red eyes over a sea of dead. Nowhere do I see you.” Tears leaked out from behind fingers, and she let out a soft sob. “You say you would die rather than allow her to come to harm. If she is allowed to live, I think you will also perish. Yet when I offer a solution, you both dig in your heels and refuse to consider it.”
I opened my mouth to argue that it was not the solution but her methods of communicating it that I took issue with, but then Freya’s voice filled my ears. “She’s right, Bjorn. We need to go.”
I turned to find her a dozen paces away, flanked by the wolves. Her face was pale and somewhat green but her voice was steady. “It’s a good plan. Together, we will lead Snorri away from both Nordeland and Skaland. Leave a trail that anyone could follow so that there is no doubt where we have gone, and draw him to the deep south. Allow him to chase us until the jarls of Skaland grow weary of his antics, his warriors give back their armbands, and he has impoverished himself beyond the capacity to hire mercenaries. Then we will disappear.”
“And then?”
Freya looked away. “And then we go our separate ways.”