Chapter 48 Freya
My plan had depended on everyone inside fleeing the flames, but my intentions were in shambles, because though the flames grew, not a person on the wall stirred.
Next to me, Guthrum dropped to his knees. Tears ran down his cheeks and his body shook with heaving sobs as he moaned, “No, no, no!”
“Guthrum, what is happening? What do you see?”
“The truth,” he whispered. “Steinunn reveals the truth. Harald is not our savior—he is our curse.”
The desire for truth had driven me during so much of my journey. The desire to know it. The desire to reveal it. Now both had been achieved, yet rather than winning the day, the truth was going to see every Skalander in Grindill burned alive.
“Go!” I shouted at Geir, my voice barely audible over the draugs’ shouts of dismay. “Break open the gates! Do what you can to find Harald, but it is more important to get everyone out!”
Geir didn’t hesitate, his rotting face set in grim determination as he barked orders to the draug warriors. They surged past me with preternatural swiftness, their speed driven by the same desperation that fueled my own. It was their families and loved ones caught in Steinunn’s thrall, and with every heartbeat, the smoke thickened. I ran with them, my legs pumping over the uneven ground, but my mind was fixed on only one thing—finding Bjorn.
The draug, their skeletal hands gripping the stone walls, scaled the fortress with grim efficiency, their movements eerily silent. The enthralled Skalanders stood like statues on the battlements, oblivious to the threat as the draug raced between them.
Open the gates, I pleaded. Get them out!
The gates exploded open with a thunderous crash, and the first screams of panic filled the night air. Steinunn must have finished her song, and the people of Grindill had been released from her thrall to discover themselves surrounded by smoke. Fear took hold, spreading through the crowd like wildfire as they raced to escape the flames, only to find their paths blocked by the draug. But the undead warriors did not strike them down. Instead, they herded them toward the gates, pushing them toward safety. Saviors, though few understoodit.
“Skoll! Hati!” I dropped to my knees at their approach, coughing as the smoke filled my lungs. Placing my hands on their heads, I said, “Stay at the gates. Harald will try to sneak out, and you must find him. When you do, signal the draug as we planned. We might yet have victory here.”
Skoll growled in understanding, and Hati raced toward the far gate, his dark fur blending into the smoke and shadow. I lifted my shield and sprinted with Skoll into the chaos before me. The fortress was a nightmare—a place where celebration had collapsed into confusion and fear. Villagers and warriors alike shoved and stumbled in their frantic attempts to escape, their faces twisted in terror. I fought my way through the crowd, heart pounding, my eyes stinging from the smoke. I had to reach the center of the fortress. I had to find Bjorn.
The smoke thickened, turning the world into a suffocating haze of gray and black. I could barely see, and each breath was a struggle as the acrid air burned my lungs. Though only a few rooftops had caught ablaze, it felt like a deathtrap. Every second counted, and yet the winding paths through Grindill seemed endless.
“Bjorn!” I screamed, my voice breaking. “Bjorn!”
But there was no answer, only the cries of those fleeing. The draug were everywhere, their rotting forms moving with purpose, guiding the villagers toward the gates, away from the flames.
Please be alive.
Panic clawed at my heart, threatening to overwhelm me. I shoved my way through the crowd, shield bouncing against my back, but it was like fighting against the flow of a river. The smell of burning wood and thatch filled the air, mixing with the stench of fear.
“Bjorn!” I screamed again, a raw, desperate plea. Please let this not have been for nothing. Please let him at least be alive.
The square was empty when I reached it. Empty except for a single figure strung between two posts, his fists encased in steel.
A shriek of horror tore from my chest, certainty that I was too late filling me. But then the figure moved.
I stumbled up the steps onto the dais, the torches casting shadows on Bjorn’s skin. Please be alive, I prayed. Please don’t be gone.
I fell to my knees before him, my hand curving around his face, lifting it. His skin was warm, and my heart leaped as Bjorn slowly opened his eyes. “Freya?”
“Oh, thank the gods,” I breathed. Pulling the steel contraptions from his fists, I then cut the cords binding him and nearly fell backward beneath his weight as Bjorn collapsed onto me. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I buried my face in his neck. “I’m sorry it took so long to get to you.”
“It’s fine, my love.” He kissed me, his fingers digging into my hair. “We will always find our way back to each other.”
It felt as though my heart would burst from my chest, because despite every obstacle, we were together. And I refused to let go of him ever again.
But clouds of black smoke rolled over us, and a cough wracked my body. “We need to get out,” I said. “Grindill is burning.”
Wedging my shoulder beneath his arm, I helped Bjorn stand. All around, roofs were crumbling, flames reaching into the sky. Each breath was more difficult than the last, both of us coughing violently.
“This way!” I dragged him toward the gate.
A roar sounded, and with a rush of hot air and smoke, a building collapsed in our path, driving us back. My eyes stung, bits of ember singeing my hair and skin, and I could not see which way to go through the smoke.
We were trapped.
“Into the great hall,” Bjorn choked out, catching hold of my hand and pulling. We stumbled through the smoke and into the stone building, the air blissfully cool after the inferno outside. But the smoke was still thick, the roof no doubt aflame, and it would not be long until the flames found us even here.
“There is a drain that leads to the river,” I said between coughs. “We can hide down there until the fires ebb.”
Bjorn nodded, his grip on my hand tight as we climbed into the hole. The stink was as horrible as it had been before, filthy water and murk sloshing around us. Bjorn tripped and stumbled in the darkness, so I covered my hand with magic to light our way. We pressed deeper, the smoke clearing. Someone had been down here since my ill-fated plan to speak to Steinunn, and the bodies and debris had been cleared. The lower water level allowed us to nearly reach the river.
“We can wait here,” I said when I started to feel the current tugging on me, my magic reflecting off the water.
Bjorn gave a tight nod between coughs, and I pulled him against me. For the first time since I’d met him, his skin felt cold against my hand. My heart skittered, because his injuries must be worse than I’d thought. “Our friends will find us when the fires ease. It’s over. We’ve won.”
Yet for all my words, my heart was thundering in my chest, because it wouldn’t be over until I was certain Skoll and Hati had found Harald. That he was finally dead. My skin was crawling, and I had to keep fighting the urge to reach for a weapon. “Bjorn,” I whispered, looking into the shadows of the tunnel. “Something isn’t right.”
He didn’t answer. I turned to see him sway backward, and then he slumped beneath the surface.
Gasping, I reached for him. But I was too late.
The current had him.
I dropped my shield and dove after him, the river like ice as it closed over my head. I swam hard with the current, reaching my glowing fingers through the darkness, desperate to find him.
Breaking the surface, I screamed, “Bjorn!”
But I couldn’t see him, and worse than water lay ahead. For the roar of the falls was already audible, and without me, there was no hope of Bjorn surviving the plunge.
“Freya!”
I scanned the darkness, then saw Bjorn bobbing ahead in the water. “Hold on,” I screamed, swimming as hard as I could toward him.
With the roar coming ever closer.
Please, I prayed. I only just got him back.
Yet I knew what fate would come for us was mine to be woven, good or ill. Actions not prayers would be what saved him, and I swam harder, reaching.
Our fingers locked right as we were swept over the falls.
Having done it once before hadn’t prepared me for doing it again. My stomach rose in my throat as we fell and fell, my magic cocooning around us. Even protected as we were, the impact of us striking the water rattled my teeth.
We plunged beneath the surface and were immediately caught in the circular flow at the base of the falls.
Black water roared around us, but I dug my nails into Bjorn’s arm and swam down. He fought against me, but I gritted my teeth and held on, pulling him to the bottom of the river and then clawing my way along it until we were free of the churn.
Pressing my feet to the bottom of the river, I kicked off, my head breaking the surface.
Bjorn appeared next to me and gasped in a breath.
“This way,” I called to him. “To the bank! Swim!”
I kicked my way to the river’s edge. A frosty north wind blew over us, turning me so cold that I could barely feel my hands. “Bjorn!”
To my left, a shadow moved, Bjorn crawling up the bank in the darkness, coughing and cursing. I covered my hand with magic and the silver glow illuminated his face. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” he snapped, spitting river water onto the bank. “It’s freezing.”
Not once in the entire time I’d known him had Bjorn complained of being cold. Nor had he ever spoken to me in that tone.
My skin crawled, and I sat back on my heels as sickness rose in my stomach. “Light a fire.”
Bjorn turned his head to regard me, and though he was cloaked in shadows there was a cruelty to his gaze that made my hackles rise.
I reached for the hilt of my sword, only to find it missing, lost to the river.
His mouth twisted into a smile I’d never before seen on his face, and Harald’s voice said, “Clever girl, Freya.”