Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
Njáll
That evening he returned to their dwelling. An unnatural silence suffocated the cozy space, and the last dredges of Njáll’s happiness slipped away.
Wood creaked under his hand as he pushed the door open.
Despite the embers glowing in the firepit, a cold frost chilled the air. Breath misted from his parted lips as he shrugged his furs higher on his shoulder.
A metallic odor mingled with the scent of ash, replacing the usual notes of honey and cedar.
Frantically, his eyes scanned their home. His feet gave out from under him when they landed on Elara, lying on the furs, clad in only a thin shift.
Violent tremors racked her tiny frame, her body tightly wound in on itself. The vibrant sun-kissed gold that usually tinged her skin didn’t appear, leaving her cheeks sallow and her face sunken.
“Elara!” Njáll roared, sprinting across the room and dropping to his knees beside the bed.
Wide, unseeing eyes fixed on him, all the color leeched from them.
“They come. They come. They won’t leave me,” she rasped, her voice thin and reedy and far too brittle for his kona.
“Who?” Njáll demanded, unable to quell the commanding lilt.
He reached for her hands, hissing at the icy sting of her skin against his.
“The draugar. They laughed. Showed me Momma. Said her soul drowns in the water. Never let her go. Never. Never. Never.”
Elara babbled, shaking.
A bowl of discarded berries sat near the bed beside an untouched skin of water. Njáll palmed her sweat-slicked forehead, brushing away the tangled nest of scarlet strands.
Another tremor shook her, and Njáll crawled into the furs. He clung to her, dragging her body into his.
Lips pressed against the cold column of her throat.
“Lies, kona. They lie. Your mother feasts in Fólkvangr with Freyja.”
Nothing reached her. His little flame was lost, drifting in a place he couldn’t go.
It unsettled him. He had never felt so useless.
“I can’t find the flame. I can’t breathe. I see her face. I see Momma. Njáll.”
Even in the haze, she called to him.
Njáll choked, hugging and rocking herself softly, whispering the Norse words for love and hope until her body slowly went lax in his limbs.
Blood rushed in his ears. His throat tightened, on the verge of swelling shut until he saw the steady rise and fall of her chest.
Finally, she slept. Color returned to pale skin.
Njáll’s forehead fell to hers as he continued to sway her in sleep. The sound of his heart hammering against his ribs punctuated the tense silence. He’d fought berserkers, hordes of men, wild beasts, but none of it prepared him for this.
For now, she slept.
In the morning, they’d return to the Volva, finding out what caused his kona such distress.
Sighing, he pulled the furs around them, sliding her on top of him.
At some point, he fell asleep, caressing her hair.
A high-pitched, piercing wail ripped Njáll from an uneasy sleep.
Years of training straightened his spine, and he sat upright.
The sound rattled the wooden panels of their dwelling, stirring Elara from her exhausted stupor.
Njáll froze, wondering if it would be his kona who’d swirl in her eyes or the cold, deadened glaze of the woman who sobbed for her mother earlier.
Sweat dotted her brow as she clung to the furs, the hair on her arms standing on end.
A glow distorted the surrounding air, her fingertips seeming to crackle with restrained energy.
“Njáll? What’s happening?”
The relief he felt at hearing the dulcet tones of his kona fled quickly. A thick tension replaced that. Another series of screams carried on the breeze outside.
A sickening scent that reeked of brine, dirt, and decay stung his nostrils. Njáll moved instantly, covering Elara with his body. Fingers searched until they closed around the hilt of his axe.
“Stay close,” he commanded, reaching behind him and clutching her waist.
Another blood-curdling scream pierced the still night, followed by the deafening clang of steel.
A heavy bang rattled against the door—once, twice, three times—until the wood splintered.
Silhouetted against the moonlit night, a bloated corpse lumbered closely, strips of rotten flesh clinging to its exposed bones.
Unfortunately, these were longer stories. No longer dreams.
This was real.
Never did he think he’d see something so perverse invade his home. When the skalds talked of the undead, Njáll merely thought it a story to scare babes. They lumbered, coating their world in the cold stench of death.
Hollow sockets sat where eyes once lived. Tiny fingers dug into his arm; his kona’s breaths fractured as she tried to speak.
Njáll jumped, the ground hard against his bare feet as he positioned his body between the draugar and his kona.
Bile rose in his throat, frost clinging to one side of the creature’s face as it moved with a clumsy purpose.
Grunting, Njáll sliced his axe through the air, slamming the blunt of the blade into the corpse’s frame.
A sickening thud rumbled at the sound of metal hitting bone. No blood seeped from the wound, the creature unaffected. It continued forward, and Njáll’s heart stopped.
Bones cracked as the draugar tilted its head to the side, extending a gnarled, claw-tipped finger toward Elara.
A deafening snarl tore through the night—the primal howl of Odin’s wolf. The earth trembled as the wolf’s paws thundered along the ground.
Sweat coated his palms. Njáll refused to relent.
He reached for Elara, lifting her from the furs. Shaking limbs wrapped around his neck. His eyes fixed on the draugar. The tendons in his arm strained as he tried to grip his axe while cradling Elara.
“We must move.”
She nodded, slipping from his hold.
A growl rumbled in his chest. He needed her close.
The corner of her mouth lifted in a placating smile. She quickly tugged on her cloak and slipped into her boots. Njáll moved with her, yanking on his boots.
Steel slid along his calf as he tucked his dagger inside. Worried green eyes bore into him. Elara’s entire frame trembled. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pressing a fierce kiss to the top of her head as he rose.
His kona rarely showed fear. He hated it. Hated the terror glazing her pretty eyes.
“Elara.” He whispered her name like a prayer into her hair. “Not even Hel can steal you from me. I will die to spare you any pain.”
“Don’t you dare,” she growled, nails dragging over his jaw. “I need you. You will do no such thing, Jarl.”
The bloated creature moved closer, and Njáll shuffled her outside.
Even now, she remained stubborn. Anything she demanded of him, he’d do.
“As you command, little flame,” he grunted, keeping her close.
Chaos erupted across the usually serene village.
Fires billowed from the trees, black smoke darkening the moon. Dozens of corpses lumbered through the labyrinthine pathways, warriors pushing them back as women and children retreated to the woods.
Odin’s wolf cleaved through the draugar, slowing them but unable to stop them.
Njáll closed his eyes. When he turned to face his kona, the fear from earlier all but retreated. Inside, a glittering resolve burned in the recesses of her gaze.
Smooth skin warmed under his touch as he cupped her face.
“You must run! Hide in the thicket. Or go deeper into the pines. I will find you when this is over.”
Nothing in this world mattered if she wasn’t in it to share it with him.
A deep scowl appeared on the lines etched near her mouth, her spine straightening as her jade eyes heated.
“I won’t leave you, Njáll. You cannot win this with steel alone. No matter where I go, they will follow.”
The tip of his tongue licked across his teeth, a snarl itching in his throat. He knew she was right and hated her for it.
Still, he needed her far away.
All he wanted was to keep her safe.
His thumbs swept over her cheeks, pulling her closer. The full weight of her fury ignited in her gaze. All of it leveled at him.
“Now is not the time to be difficult, Elara!”
Steady hands covered his own. She rocked up onto her tiptoes.
Soft lips fused to his in a brief, bruising kiss.
Smoke thickened around them. Screams and shouts rang out in the distance. Grey ash rained down, the pieces sticking to the sweat on his shoulders.
None of that stopped her.
The tart taste of berries lingered on his tongue, while the world devolved behind them. The conviction in each swipe of her tongue unraveled him a little more. She pulled away slightly, her warm breath fanning over his swollen lips as she spoke.
“I will not hide, Jarl. This is my fight as much as yours.”