Chapter 17
Elva
Iwoke up stiff, sore, and shivering. During the night, I’d rolled out of the blanket I was sharing with Sindri, or more likely, my blanket-hog of a twin stole it and left me to freeze.
Grumbling, I stepped out of our tent and shuffled toward the fire pit, trying to shake off the morning dew and icy chill in the air.
Thankfully, it still had a few glowing embers.
Tossing progressively larger sticks into the pit, I watched the tiny flames spark to life, and sighed happily.
As the fire grew, I grabbed the bits of remaining wood to put on a pot of water and sat beside the flames to warm myself and prepare breakfast. We’d been traveling for four days and hadn't encountered any more knights or guards.
The handful of peasants we had seen showed no interest in engaging with us and often hurried past as quickly as they could.
Sindri may have complained about his encounters with local harpies and kelpies, but in truth, he knew little of the wild and truly dangerous creatures of Torian.
Sultry sirens were meant to stay within the safety of our kingdom, luring in partners to strengthen our numbers.
It was the warrior sirens who ventured far and wide, learning about the creatures that roamed beyond our borders and ensuring we could defend ourselves if needed.
I knew what lurked in the coming lands and had the scars to prove they were not to be toyed with.
Today, we’d leave the Forest of Endilaus, and to avoid getting too close to the mermaid’s territory, we’d be hugging the base of the Crimson Mountain.
The blood red mountains we'd seen in the distance now loomed over us, only a few stone throws away.
I turned my back toward them and looked to the west. Somewhere, beyond those peaks, and far past the mermaid territory, was our home—the Konvern Territory.
But it was also the place that had cast us out.
A pang of guilt twisted in my chest as I thought about why we’d been exiled.
A siren who couldn’t bear a child was useless.
And so, I’d been discarded. Sindri and Leifur had given up everything to stand by me, even when the rest of our kind turned their backs.
I vowed to make it right. For them, I’d do anything.
My only fear was that one day, the siren queen would change her mind about them, decide that two male sirens were too valuable to lose, and come after us.
In the north, I could see the sea. Our journey to retrieve Njall from the Huestur Territory was also my chance to give us a better life.
We’d save him, get him back to Tyndorf, and find a plot of land.
Leifur could open a small blacksmith shop, and he’d make money for us to live on.
People hated sirens, but my brother was a very talented blacksmith, and if living on the road had taught me anything, it was that people would tolerate you if you could provide them with something they wanted.
We’d get animals and plant a garden. Despite his love of finer things, my twin was an exceptional gardener.
He’d grow the food, I’d take care of the house and animals, and Leifur could provide us with anything we couldn’t make ourselves.
I still didn't understand what made Njall disobey his father and let us go. When I let my mind wander there, my plans became muddled. My life goal was simple—set up a peaceful life for my brothers and exact revenge on the human who’d helped turn me into a monster.
That was it. No feelings, no princes who changed their mind about getting me arrested, and no mind-blowing sex that was better than anything I’d ever experienced in my life. I didn’t need that.
We'd left the main road and were now on the seldom-used paths that ran along the base of the mountain.
We needed to be more diligent about overgrown roots and falling rocks, but on the bright side, we'd only seen two people in the days we’d been traveling these paths.
Minerals from the mountain runoff had stained the earth here a deep red.
In several places, it seemed as if we were walking down a river of blood.
“We’re running low on food,” Leifur said as the sun rose higher in the sky.
I looked up to let it warm my face while weighing our options—fishing or finding a town to replenish our supplies. “We’ll find a river to water the horses and catch a few fish,” I replied. “Then we’ll look for a village to restock.”
“Works for me. I love fish,” Sindri said. He led the way, and we soon found ourselves at a small offshoot of the Bloot River. We hadn’t even finished tying up our horses before we heard a loud splash.
“You picked the right stream,” I said, and set about feeding the horses while my brothers retrieved the fishing gear.
Once the horses were settled, I joined them at the water's edge.
Sindri was sitting at the riverbank. His hair was a mess, and his shirt askew, but I decided against teasing him today.
Instead, I sat down beside him and rested my head on his shoulder.
The shore on this side of the river was mostly made of piles of red rust colored fist-sized rocks with weeds and grass growing around them.
The water was moving slowly, its ruddy hue deepest in the middle where fish stirred the sludge.
Downstream, some saplings were growing from around the rocks, and I strolled over to tie my lines to them, in case we hooked a larger fish while I was busy in another section.
By the time I returned, my brothers had already managed to catch five fish the length of my forearm.
We roasted them over the fire, and they flaked perfectly, tasting better than anything we’d eaten since the last town we’d visited.
When we lived in Konvern with the other sirens, nearly three-quarters of our diet was seafood.
Living on the sea and being in it every day, we developed a craving that was tough to satisfy during our travels on land.
It’s one reason I hoped we’d be able to settle in Tyndorf.
Not only was it on the edge of the Sieden Sea, but a century ago, the Crimson Mountains had split into a strait.
We'd have access to water and seafood from both sides.
With our bellies full and food replenished, we cleaned up and were loading the horses when I heard a low growl.
“Leifur.” I gripped my brother’s arm, and he froze to listen, but it had stopped.
“What’s wrong?” Sindri asked, bringing the last of our cooking supplies.
“I heard a growl.”
Leifur's eyes snapped to mine. “What kind?”
“Big. Dangerous.”
Leifur grabbed the supplies from Sindri’s arms and began stuffing them wherever they’d fit.
“Get on your horse,” I ordered, and for once, Sindri didn’t need to be told twice. He swung onto his gray horse and motioned for me to follow. At that moment, I heard it again, and this time they did too.
“That was a wolf,” I whispered. Leifur scanned the woods.
Keeping his eyes glued to the tree line, he gathered a few rocks.
Heart pounding in my chest, I did the same, but handed him the stones.
With his brute strength, honed from a lifetime of blacksmithing, he could turn any solid object he could into a weapon.
Sweat trickled down my back as I slid along the side of Acorn and grabbed the reins of our mule.
As if reading my thoughts, Sindri took them from me and gripped them tightly.
If things went badly, he would get two horses out of here fast.
I cursed under my breath. After seeing no one for two days, I'd grown lax. My daggers were stowed with my clothes. Reaching into my boot, I pulled the one backup blade I kept for emergencies, and watched the tree lines.
This time, multiple growls echoed back.