Chapter 25 Freya
“What is it?” I demanded of Tora, because Una had swooned to the floor. “What is happening?”
“Those manning the walls have signaled an attack.”
My pulse escalated, dread slowly pooling in my stomach. “Snorri?”
“It is too soon for him to have brought an army across the strait,” Tora said with a frown.
“Then who?” Sweat slicked my palms and I closed my hand over the hilt of my sword. “Islund? Have they come for vengeance?”
Tora only shook her head, not in denial but in bewilderment. “No one attacks Hrafnheim.”
My lips parted to argue that was clearly not the case, only for Harald to explode into the hall at a run. I’d not even known he was absent.
“We are under attack!” The edges of panic shone in his eyes. “The wards over Hrafnheim have been breached. Warriors to the walls!”
There was no hesitation in the Nordelander ranks. Those who could fight raced out of the great hall and those who remained, mostly children and the very old, silently drew together.
“Tora, go find Bjorn on the wall,” Harald ordered as he approached. “They attack with fire and will set all of Hrafnheim aflame if they are not stopped.”
Tora left the hall at a run.
“Harald, who is attacking?” I caught hold of his arm and pulled to keep him from leaving. “Is it Snorri?”
“I don’t know.” His expression was grim. “But you should stay away from the walls, Freya. If Snorri is outside, all it could take is one command from him and you would be forced to turn on everyone in Hrafnheim.”
My hands felt like ice. How was this happening? How was Snorri already here?
Questions I had no chance to ask, for Harald was already racing out of the great hall to defend his people.
No one stopped me as I walked to the doors and took in the sight of distant roofs engulfed in flame. Arrows tipped with burning pitch fell from the sky to land on the buildings closest to the walls and fear throbbed in my heart because I knew how quickly they’d spread over the thatched roofs. It would only be a matter of time until it drove Harald to lower the drawbridges for the people to flee smoke and fire. Whether it was Skaland, Islund, or someone unknown waiting in the woods, they were here for violence.
Already a choking haze filled the night air and I coughed as the wind blew it in my face.
“They attack only from the west,” a voice said from next to me, and I turned to discover a man standing but a pace away. He was bearded and heavily muscled, his bare arms covered with inkwork depicting Fenrir. Once a warrior, but no longer, it seemed, for he held a well-worn crutch and limped heavily as he moved for a better vantage of the flames.
“We should move to the eastern side of the fortress,” he muttered. “Away from the fires.”
“What if they attack from that side as well?” My skin crawled with the sense that a strategy was in play. “Better to go to the harbor where there is a chance that people can escape by boat.”
“There are not enough boats.”
“Then we can swim,” I said, then winced as I remembered his crippled leg. “Save the boats for those who cannot.”
He nodded, watching the growing flames. “We should go now.” As he turned to go back into the hall to spread the word, the man stumbled and nearly fell. It was only my quick reflexes that kept him from sprawling.
“I’ll tell them,” I said. “You start toward the harbor.”
Hurrying into the hall, I shouted, “The flames are spreading across the rooftops. We should travel to the harbor. Those who cannot swim will board the boats and be ready to take to the Rimstrom if the flames cannot be contained.”
Cries broke out as the composure of the Nordelanders began to fracture. Children clung to their grandparents, faces slick with tears. All of them stood to lose everything, even their lives.
If it was Snorri and his men out there, I’d brought this down upon them.
Perhaps Saga’s vision had already begun.
“There is sense in what she says!” Steinunn’s voice carried over the noise. “Head to the harbor!”
A tide of people moved out of the great hall and I felt validation in my choice because many of them moved with painful slowness. If we’d waited for the flames to grow they would not have made it, including the man with the limp.
“I am sorry,” he said to me between coughs. “I cannot go faster, shield maiden. You should go ahead with the children to protect them.”
I was coughing now as well, smoke searing my lungs and eyes. Just as it had in Halsar the night Gnut had attacked. “Let me help you.”
I pulled his arm over my shoulder, my back groaning beneath his weight. Yet with my help he was able to move faster, and he guided me through the twisting paths toward the harbor.
We were nearly there when he drew to a stop. “I must rest,” he said between coughs. Unfastening the waterskin at his belt, he took a mouthful and then handed it to me. “Water.”
I gratefully took several gulps. At first I tasted only ash and smoke but on my fourth swallow, I registered something else in the water. Something bitter and foul.
My body stiffened.
The man’s smile slowly changed from kind to cruel, and he shoved away the crutch and stood straight. “Your king has come for you, Freya,” he said, his accent now that of a Skalander. “Sleep well.”
My lips parted to call Hlin. To call Hel. Yet my tongue would not answer the screaming panic of my thoughts.
Slowly, my knees buckled, and as the warrior’s arms caught me, all faded to darkness.