Chapter Twenty-Five
Snow danced around them, snowflakes catching in his eyes and making it difficult to see. He wasn’t sure if it was actually snowing still, or if the wind battering the cliffs was simply lifting it from the rockface.
He didn’t care about the cold or discomfort. He had Astra and that’s all that mattered.
Swinging her up and shifting his body awkwardly with a grunt, he managed to pull her on to his back, grateful that Oddmund had more sense than to try to fight for her. He was too terrified about the tattered rope to do anything more than scramble down as quickly as he could.
Astra clung to Agnar’s neck so tightly, he had to gasp for air, her wretched sobs hot against his ear. She’d been so brave and he suspected her nerves were beginning to fray…not unlike the rope above their heads.
‘I’ve got you, little one,’ he reassured her, ‘Wrap your legs around my waist, but…’ He swallowed deeply as her grip tightened and he barely managed to croak out, ‘Less tightly on my throat.’
Now that Agnar had Astra more securely, he began to climb the rope as quickly as he could. The frayed ball of fibres seemed so much further up than he’d imagined. With every moment that passed, every gust of wind that sent them swaying back and forth it seemed to lose more threads.
There wasn’t enough time!
He grabbed the little axe at his belt and slammed it into the rock above his head, shoving his feet against cracks in the rock to find purchase. It was enough to keep him upright as the rope finally gave way and snapped.
It burned through his hand and whistled past him, slapping against his thigh like an angry cat’s tail on its way down.
Its rapid descent was met by the screams of men, followed quickly by wet thuds against rock, as well as splashes as a couple of lucky men fell into the sea and a horrible crack of wood as one hit the rigging of the ship below.
‘Don’t look down!’ he shouted above the noise of the wind, obeying his own command and staring up at the end of the rope above his head.
Now that Astra was his responsibility the knowledge filled him with fear and uncertainty.
He could protect himself, had always been able to.
Where he’d failed was in protecting others, protecting his mother and even Skadi.
The little axe that he’d relied on all those years ago was the only thing between them and a grisly fall and he could feel it straining under their weight, slowly slipping from the rock, like a creaky door.
His feet were giving little support against the cracks in the rock. If the axe fell, so would he.
He reached up with one hand and could only feel the barest whisper of thread against his fingers.
His other shifted on to the top of the axe, his hand slippery with his own blood, as he clawed up with his fingers a little further and was able to grip the bundle of frayed threads.
Desperately he grabbed hold of it and forced his body up, fist over fist.
As if knowing its work was done, the little axe slipped free and clattered down the cliff. His heart ached at its loss. It had always been a reminder of his mother’s sacrifice, of his own ability to never give up—even in the darkest of moments.
Perhaps it would find its way to the eastern sea, where his mother’s ashes had been scattered, or it would help some other person in their time of need?
By letting go of the past, was he finally choosing to be happy?
Such strange thoughts filled his mind as he grunted and forced his body upwards.
Afraid to drop Astra or the slippery rope, but climbing anyway in the hopes of a better future for all of them.
He ignored the pain in his bloodied palms and the pull of Astra’s arms as she wept against his neck.
He would get her to safety, even—and most likely—if it killed him.
‘Most impressive!’ declared a voice to the side of him, and he was absently aware that it was Sven a few feet away, still on his ledge.
Agnar didn’t acknowledge him. He was a little surprised that Sven hadn’t tried to cut his rope with his axe. But the ledge was tiny, and he imagined Sven couldn’t pull it free, let alone swing it without losing his footing. As always, Sven valued himself above all things.
‘Any chance you can swing the rope my way? If you reach the top…’
Agnar continued to ignore him. But Astra was feeling brave and, through her tears, she snapped, ‘I hope you’re stuck there for a hundred years!’
Agnar chuckled, but then he spotted the terrified eyes of Skadi above. He gritted his teeth and pushed onwards. He couldn’t relax until Astra was safely in her arms.
He knew he was close when Astra’s weight was lifted from his shoulders and pulled over the top.
To his surprise, more arms reached for him straight after, and not just Vali and Brenna’s.
Skadi yanked him up and over the precipice, falling on to her back with one arm tightly wrapped around Astra’s cloak, pulling her weeping child close to her side, while her other hand clutched at his tunic, unwilling to let either of them go.
He flopped on to his back, so as not to crush her, and she dragged him to her. The three of them clung to each other with white-knuckled grips, still panting with relief and exhaustion.
The glow from the campfire was bright enough to see the relieved expressions of Brenna and Vali above them, Brenna curling into Vali’s arms with obvious relief.
Agnar sighed, grateful that the gods had been kind and just. He would never have forgiven them if they’d taken Astra from them.
There was a break in the snow-filled clouds and he was struck by how small they must appear to the gods, no bigger than one of the many stars scattered across the darkness.
One star fell, shooting through the sky in a sweeping arc and disappearing into the clouds and horizon.
‘Did you see that?’ gasped Astra.
‘Yes,’ whispered Skadi, her voice sounding raw from all the shouting she must have done.
‘Agnar, did you?’ Astra asked, her voice hesitant with hope.
‘I saw it,’ he said, unable to deny the smile that spread across his face, as he lay across Skadi’s pounding chest. Astra reached across to hold his hand.
‘The gods sent us good fortune,’ whispered Astra and he couldn’t agree more.