Chapter 30
Chapter 30
I n the first two heartbeats, I dodge a man’s fist, break the next warrior’s wrist, swipe the legs out from under another man, and dodge three separate arrows.
In the next ten heartbeats, I crack ribs, disarm four men, and punch another two so hard that they fly back into the wall.
After that, I lose count of my heartbeats.
My fists and feet fly, blood splatters, bones break.
If I were aiming to kill, the bodies would be piling up around me, but I’ve made it ten paces along the line, and I’m surrounded by a chorus of groans that tells me they’re all very much alive. Their reflexes simply aren’t supernatural like mine.
It’s hardly a fair fight, but they chose it.
Despite the haze of sapphire light in the air, none of them has chosen to burn out their deep light, and I’m grateful because if any of them makes that choice, my chances of any kind of deal with them will be over.
As for the man at the end of the line, I’m not so sure. As I fight my way toward him, sending men flying and others straight into the ground, I catch glimpses of him rolling his shoulders, his dagger cutting the air in a rhythmic sway that tells me he intends to use it to full effect.
I’m not about to give him the chance.
I charge forward, feinting toward his left before switching to his right at the last moment, such a rapid change that he doesn’t have a chance of following it, even with the force of his deep light, which bursts around him.
My left hand closes around his wrist, wrenching his arm outward and pushing his hand backward in a near-bone-breaking move that forces him to let go of the dagger. At the same time, my right fist collides with his exposed ribs, hard enough to make them pop and triggering him to bend reflexively. It’s a tribute to his strength that he barely flinches, but it’s enough for me to get past him and spin back.
Within seconds, I’ve kicked the back of his right leg, forced him to his knees, and wrapped my arm around his neck.
It’s the same maneuver I used to subdue Thaden Kane when he first arrived in the wasteland.
I’m crushing his windpipe, and he’s struggling to breathe, but I only have heartbeats before he fights back.
Allowing my wolfish nature to enter my voice for the first time, I growl a command. “Yield, and take me to your chieftain!”
I’m certain he isn’t going to comply. I’m compressing his throat too hard for him to speak, but he gives no sign of yielding. If he intended to give in, he would have let his body weight drop already.
Worse, the sapphire glow around him is growing stronger, a dangerous sign that he’s going to choose to burn out his light.
“Don’t do it,” I warn him, my grip tightening even further, enough to knock him unconscious if I have to. “Don’t fucking do it!”
A loud voice shouts from the side of the clearing. “Son! You will not join the Vandawolf’s father before I do.”
I don’t know who the newcomer is—and it’s difficult to see him because he has cleverly chosen to stand right at the corner of my vision—but he clearly has authority.
Those men who are still standing all shuffle backward as the newcomer approaches, finally stepping into view.
He has startlingly blue eyes and hints of gray hair at his temples, although he can’t be more than forty years old.
He doesn’t carry a weapon, and his hands are turned palms-up in a sign of peace.
He keeps his eyes on me. “Vandawolf, if you wanted to kill my son, you would have done so already. Just as you would have killed every other man here. Yet you have not. This tells me you are here for reasons other than revenge, and I’m curious as to what they could be.”
He inclines his head at the man I’m subduing. “That is my son, Eyolf. It would be a great honor for him to be killed by you, but it would be an insult to me if he were to meet your father in the Hall of Warriors before I could.”
At that, the fight drains out of Eyolf, and the threatening sapphire light disperses from around him.
I release him immediately, stepping back from both men.
Eyolf jumps to his feet. It must be taking everything he’s got not to press his hand to his lacerated throat, but he raises himself upright and glares back at me.
“It is an honor to fight the Vandawolf,” the chieftain announces to his clan before he turns to me and lowers his voice. “Do you know my name, Vandawolf?”
“No,” I say honestly.
I suspect that he was the man who challenged my father in the fight that led to our departure from this clan. But I don’t know that man’s name.
“Pity,” he replies without enlightening me. “This way. We will talk.”
I glance back at the warriors before following him, taking a quick look at the carnage I’m leaving behind.
Damn, I may not have succeeded in my don’t maim goal.
But nobody has any limbs missing, only badly broken bones, and I’m certain they will be able to heal themselves with their deep light.
As the groans behind me fade, a hush seems to fall around the village again. I follow the chieftain along the path to the main hall—a longhouse similar to the one my father built on the mountain.
Despite the way the other buildings appear shuttered, I make out the turrets in the roofs from which arrows are pointed my way.
“Your timing has placed me in a dilemma,” the chieftain says as we reach the door to the longhouse. “I would not dishonor you by making you speak with me out here in the cold. Yet inside my home are two of the most important people to me in this world. My son took it upon himself to defend them, and I’m proud of him for doing so.”
The chieftain pushes the door open and I’m met by the spilling warmth of a hearth fire and the scent of herbs, along with the aroma of a cooked meal that makes me aware of how empty my stomach is.
“You’ve met my son,” the chieftain says. “Now, you will meet my newborn daughter.”
He gestures me inside first, which is an overly trusting action for him to take if I were intending to attack his family.
Up ahead, a woman sits on the hearth rug, a baby swaddled in a sling that wraps across her right shoulder, leaving her arms free. It’s difficult to predict how tall she is while she’s sitting down, but she has lustrous, hazel eyes while masses of wavy, dark-brown hair frame her shoulders.
She appears far more relaxed than I was expecting, taking a look at me before returning her attention to her baby.
I very slowly unclip my harness at the door, leaving my sword within its sheath and placing it against the wall. “I’m not here to harm you.”
She arches an eyebrow at me before she rises to her feet, the baby remaining snugly held against her chest.
“Vandawolf, I appreciate your sincerity, but you are the one who should be afraid.”
As soon as she finishes speaking, silver wings shoot out from her shoulders, wide and strong.
Every feather catches the firelight in dazzling rays before she wraps her wings around herself, cocooning the child at her chest, along with most of her body below her neck.
“It’s lucky we are friends.” She gives me a relaxed smile before she settles herself back down on the rug, adjusting her wings like a blanket. “Join us for a meal. You must be hungry.”
Hungry? I’m certain my hunger has now given way to my need to survive an encounter with a Valkyrie.
She eyes me when I hesitate. “Or do you intend to reject the offer of a meal as dramatically as you rejected the place I chose for you in the Hall of Warriors?”
Her question tells me she isn’t just any Valkyrie, but their Queen herself.
Her forehead crinkles in the beat that I hesitate, but the smile remains on her lips as she continues. “Most Einherjar drop to their knees when they find out who I am.”
The chieftain steps past me with a laugh. “I didn’t.”
Her cheeks flush. “Yes, well, I made it clear I wasn’t there to kill you.”
“I’m glad you didn’t kill me,” he rumbles, reaching her side and settling down on the rug to stir the pot steaming over the fire.
Within moments, he’s ladled out three bowls of stew, one of which he holds out to me.
I reach for a cloth hanging beside the door and wipe my hands and face. I broke bones cleanly. There isn’t much blood on me, but it could be disrespectful to bring it near her baby.
She gives me a smile, as if she approves, before I approach the hearth and accept the bowl of food.
I settle on the other side of the hearth, keeping it between us. Of course, we’re all capable of leaping over it if we want to, but it provides a barrier that gives the illusion of peace.
We eat quietly.
The baby fusses a little but settles back down quickly.
“Maybe we should call her Fojan ,” the chieftain murmurs, serving himself some more stew. “Since she has a strong voice.”
The Queen wrinkles her nose. “It means loud , not strong . My daughter will not have to shout to be heard.”
He makes a humming sound in the back of his throat. “Then what about Placida ? Since it means quiet .”
The Queen snorts. “She will not be that, either.”
I listen quietly and bide my time, taking small mouthfuls so I can swallow them quickly. I need to respect the chieftain’s position and allow him to direct the conversation. I’m certain he will draw us back to why I’m here, but only on his terms.
Halfway through the meal, and without even a hint of a change in his tone of voice, he says, “When Bjarne left, I lost a man I considered my brother.”
I swallow my mouthful, but still, I remain silent, waiting for him to go on.
“I didn’t blame him,” the chieftain says. “He thought our clan could not change. Our former chieftain had no honor, and by the time Bjarne finally killed him, his brutality had festered. But the change Bjarne set into motion allowed me to continue his work after he left. This clan operates under different rules now.”
As much as I should probably accept his claim without question if I want to achieve my goal here, I can’t resist testing it. “The heads on spikes tell a different story.”
The chieftain’s blue eyes gleam. “Don’t get me wrong, Erik. We love a good slaughter. But only of those who come looking for trouble.” He casually stirs the pot again before he asks, “Are you here looking for trouble?”
Now we get to it.
I step through the opening he’s given me, choosing to respond as frankly as I can. “The fae are pushing west. They will soon push north, too. The human Queen seeks an alliance with you for the purpose of protecting both her land and yours.”
The chieftain makes another humming sound in the back of his throat. “That’s a subtle way of saying she wants us to fight for her.”
I shrug. “I thought it sounded better the way I put it.”
He shakes his head with a low laugh. Then he leans back on his heels. “What would you do? If you were chieftain of this clan.”
I snort. “I would tell them to fuck off.”
I wish I could answer differently, but he would hear the lie in my voice.
“Then why are you here doing their bidding?” he asks.
“Because they have information I need.”
“Ah.” He studies me for a minute. “Will they give you this information merely for trying? Or do you have to sway us to their cause to fulfill your end of the deal?”
“You must agree to fight for them.”
He grimaces. “Well, that is unfortunate.”
I consider the way he looks at the Valkyrie, how they communicate silently with each other, and how grim their expressions suddenly are.
“We cannot join this fight,” the chieftain finally says. “The Einherjar exist between the worlds of humans and supernaturals. We can’t and won’t take sides.”
I understand his position. I even support it. But I can’t leave knowing I accepted his answer and did nothing to test his reasoning.
“What of glory?” I ask. “There hasn’t been a war like this for decades. It would give your warriors an unparalleled chance to build their deep light—or burn it out in a battle that will be recorded in history.”
“We will find glory elsewhere,” he replies smoothly.
My next question is a growl. “When the fae come for your homes, will you give up your land and find glory elsewhere?”
He watches me closely as I speak, and his response throws me. “I hear your mother in your voice. You have her heart.”
My father told me the same.
Before I can reply, the chieftain continues. “I’m glad there is nothing of your father in you. Bjarne raised you well. But it will not change my decision?—”
Wait .
“What did you say?” I replay his speech in my mind, his odd choice of words. “ Nothing of my father ? What do you mean by that?”
The chieftain freezes, exchanges a glance with the Valkyrie, and then peers at me. “Who is your father, Erik?”
“Bjarne Haakonsson,” I reply without hesitation. “The man who raised me.”
The chieftain’s shoulders slump. “Clearly, he never told you… he was not your father.”
That can’t be true.
I push back against the tumult of confusion within me. “I have his eyes.”
“You have the same gray eyes as your father because his sister also had those eyes.”
The tips of my claws are suddenly protruding, and I fight to hold them back. “I don’t understand.”
The chieftain is stony, but his speech is clear. “Your mother was my wife. But you are not my son. As I said, our former chieftain had no honor. I went to kill him, but it was Bjarne’s sword that struck him down. When your mother later died, Bjarne vowed to raise you.”
His words reach me as if they’re coming from far away. A place that can’t exist. That shouldn’t exist.
Suddenly, what he said to me at the gate takes on a whole new meaning. He spoke of me coming for revenge, and he commanded his son not to join my father in death before he could.
“Why didn’t you raise me?” I ask, a snarl in my throat. “If she was your wife.”
“Because there was too much anger in my heart,” he says. “Bjarne was right to keep you away from me.”
“And Thoren?” I ask. “My brother?”
“He was Bjarne’s son.”
“Erik will do the cutting.”
My father never stopped me from throwing myself into battle, but he always kept Thoren safe. Always, he would say to Thoren, “Stay back, shoot from a distance, let Erik do the cutting.”
Maybe, one day, if I live long enough, I will come to terms with his reasons. After all, he couldn’t stop me from charging into danger. But right now, all I feel is anger that he used me as a shield for his own flesh and blood.
Why wouldn’t he?
Finally, I have a reason for my greater aggression, my larger physique, and the fact that I dealt out death to an entire population of Blacksmiths, covering myself in blood and gore, and somehow, I survived it.
War is in my blood.
My chest hurts.
When I glance down, blood seeps through my tunic. The wound must have opened up again.
My voice is hollow as I rise to my feet. “I have your answer. I will tell the human Queen that there will be no alliance.”
I make it to the door, where I retrieve my sword before I turn back to ask, “Do I have your assurance that I will be allowed to leave without incident?”
The chieftain gives me a firm nod. “You have my permission to kill any fool who tries to stop you.”
But that’s not all I need. I came here to protect Asha from the bloodshed these clans could bring into her life, and I won’t leave until I’m certain I’ve done everything I can. “Do I also have your assurance that no Einherjar will come after me seeking glory?”
This time, the chieftain defers to the Valkyrie Queen, who considers me with more empathy than I was expecting, her lips pursed gently and her eyes soft. “I will make it known that any willful fight with you will not be counted in the Hall of Warriors,” she says. “Go in peace, Vandawolf.”
I pause at the door. “You could consider Amalia. For your daughter’s name.”
The Queen’s forehead puckers. “It sounds pretty, but it means work . Toil. Why would you suggest it?”
“Because that is what a leader does,” I reply, reaching for the door.
I haven’t made it another step before the Queen suddenly tenses, her focus snapping to the left. “Wait!”
The chieftain responds immediately to her alarm. “What do you sense?”
“A power,” she whispers, her eyes growing wide. “It’s coming this way. And fast.” She spins back to the chieftain, her eyes glowing silver. “Prepare your warriors. Darkness comes.”