Chapter 30 Freya
It was like having my skull crushed between the palms of a giant, the weight of Bjorn’s will crashing over me with such intensity that it drove all thought of anything else from my mind.
“Hel,” I whispered. “Give me your power.”
“Destroy the Skalander fleet!” Saga shouted, but all the noise and chaos slipped into the background as I stared at the distant battle.
I did not want to hurt my people.
I did not want to use my power.
But I had sworn an oath to obey, and so I had no choice but to heed Bjorn’s order.
Magic surged through my veins, wild and fierce and hot, but my voice was nothing more than a whisper as I said, “I curse every Skalander warrior before me to Hel’s realm.”
The ships all rocked violently, the large vessels flung about like a child’s toys in a bath. Waves washed over the decks, knocking warriors into the water, and the air filled with screams.
Then black roots exploded from the sea.
They coiled around the waists of the Skalanders, ripping them down into the depths. Dozens upon dozens of them, lashing out with unerring aim to capture those who would harm Nordeland and bring them down to my divine mother’s realm.
The seas boiled, our drakkar spinning wildly. Bjorn caught hold of me and pushed me down against the hull. Tora did the same, and to my shock, Snorri leaped into our drakkar to catch hold of my wrist. “What have you done, Freya?” he pleaded. “What have you become?”
Above us was a twist of roots and shrieking warriors wrapped in their lengths, so thick it cast us in shadow, and I screamed and screamed at the horror that I had caused as they wrapped around the waists of the Skalanders and yanked them down. But not Snorri. I covered him with my magic and repelled every root that reached for him.
The waves flung our vessel this way and that, threatening to overturn us in swells as deep as canyons.
Then, as suddenly as they had appeared, the roots withdrew, and the seas went still. Silent. As though the whole world was holding its breath.
I pulled out of Snorri’s grip and pushed onto my hands and knees. Bjorn did the same, blood dripping from a cut on his cheek and his green eyes wide. We both twitched as the drakkar jerked, but as I looked over the edge, it was to discover that we’d run up on the beach of a small island.
All around us were empty ships listing on the waves. Every one of them was empty.
Because I’d sent the soul of every Skalander on the horizon to Helheim.
All, except for Snorri. The one I’d wanted most to send to Hel and yet he still lived and breathed.
Jerking out of Bjorn’s grip, I stumbled onto the beach and then fell to my knees, retching. Vaguely I heard the thud of boots and the crunch of feet against sand. The thump of someone being flung onto the beach accompanied by a grunt of pain.
Then Snorri demanded, “What have you done?”
I wiped my mouth and looked sideways to find Snorri on his back, Bjorn’s boot pressed against his chest. Tora stood behind him, bleeding from a wound on her temple, and the Nameless stood blank-faced in the vessel. Where Saga was, whether she lived, I could not have said.
“What have you done?” he screamed atme.
What had I done?
Bodies not weighed down by mail or weapons drifted to the surface of the sea, dozens upon dozens. Hundreds.
It had come true.
I had not changed fate. Everything Saga had foreseen had come to pass, and I wept.