Chapter 9 Talvinen
nine
Talvinen
Njord
The first rays of the morning sun colored the sky in soft shades of pink and orange. The forest was eerily quiet. Even the birds had fallen silent, sacred by the presence of Isgrimnur’s bear warriors.
Njord ran. He had ordered a few of his men to bring horses for Talvi and his husband, but Njord couldn’t be slowed down by them. The cool air burned in his lungs, but he was glad to be outside and moving. Away from Odinsson’s confusing presence.
His nephew was near. Njord could sense Talvi’s immense power like a beacon shining in a dark night, and despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, he was glad to see the boy again.
Njord knew the barn that Skalmold had spoken of.
When the boys had been younger, he’d visited the forest and the burial mounds with Talvi and Rune.
Jokull had bathed in the mountain lake, and his nephews had played among the standing stones.
Overcome with a deep sense of melancholy, Njord had to blink moisture from his eyes.
Stop moping, old man. Hurry! Get the little dragonet and his mate.
No way. No way could Svanhild fake Jokull’s voice and expressions like that. But he couldn’t dwell on the thought because she was right. He had to get to Talvi fast.
The shadow of the barn appeared between the trees, and Njord could hear the commotion of a fight. He left the small trail and soundlessly picked his way through the dense undergrowth until he could make out the dark opening of the barn door. Creeping a little closer still, Njord nocked an arrow.
In the entryway, he spotted two unfamiliar warriors. Isgrimnur’s berserkers undoubtedly. And inside the barn, surrounded by fallen foes: Talvi.
His nephew stood tall. He’d grown into a warrior over the years Njord had been gone, and he felt pride expanding his chest.
“Who sent you?” Talvi growled at the berserkers. “Tell me now, and I’ll make your deaths quick.”
Njord smiled. His nephew was as cheeky as ever.
There was a brief silence, as the berserkers were at a loss for words in the face of Talvi’s bravado, then one of them roared.
Dozens of voices echoed the scream, more berserkers lurking in the woods.
Svanhild must’ve paid a handsome sum for this assault.
Njord wasn’t keen on finding out how many warriors were still out there.
Before the berserkers could attack, Njord shot. His arrow whistled through the barn door and struck one berserker in the throat. Gurgling, he dropped to the ground, clawing at the shaft. Njord’s smile widened. Quickly, he nocked a second arrow.
Talvi grabbed his companion by the hand, a Jotunn warrior, broad-shouldered and with long, silvery blond hair. H?kon Bloodaxe. The Jotunn allowed Talvi to drag him out of the barn, a rather unexpected behavior for a fearsome chieftain of the frost giants.
Njord’s second arrow found its mark at the same second Talvi struck him down in passing.
“This way,” Talvi said, pulling H?kon along.
There was no need for Njord to show himself yet.
He knew where his clever nephew was going; after all, he had taught him all of his tricks.
Bow slung over his shoulder, Njord melted back into the forest. The air was cool and moist, and Njord took deep breaths, tasting its saltiness and estimating how far from the fjord he had gone.
Not so far that he couldn’t conjure up a thick fog.
Weaving a quick seier, he threw the berserkers off his nephew’s tail.
Making his way quickly to their assumed meeting point, Njord pulled the gathering fog tighter around them, throwing their enemies off their trail. When he spotted two silhouettes approaching him, he stepped out onto the path.
“Talvi,” the Jotunn hissed, clearly wary.
“Uncle Njord!”
An excited statement, not a question. Njord was so proud of him. He pulled down his hood, revealing his face.
It had been too long since he’d last seen him. Talvi looked well; his sharp, youthful features almost glowing with happiness.
“Talvi.” Njord opened his arms. “It’s so good to see you again.”
Without hesitation, Talvi stepped into his embrace, and Njord wrapped him in a crushing hug, relief washing over him. His nephew was well. Safe. At least for now.
Catching movement over Talvi’s shoulder, Njord found the Jotunn watching them with an expression of uneasiness on his handsome face. Njord studied Bloodaxe as Talvi gestured him closer.
“Meet my husband. This is—”
“H?kon Bloodaxe. Prince of Jotunheim,” Njord said, earning a surprised look from Bloodaxe.
“Yes,” Talvi confirmed, proud, draping an arm over H?kon’s shoulders in an easy embrace. Bloodaxe relaxed into the touch.
Njord liked what he saw; both young men ruffled from the fight and drenched in their enemies’ blood, and clearly incredibly smitten with each other. Talvi had certainly succeeded in ensnaring the man he’d dreamed about for so long.
“I’m no prince,” H?kon grumbled.
Njord laughed, clapping the younger man on the shoulder. In Jotunheim, H?kon was certainly treated as less than equal because of his status as the king’s illegitimate son. Laughable.
“You are a prince in the eyes of our laws. Welcome to the family.”
H?kon managed a stiff nod, although clearly surprised.
“Thank you.”
“What are you doing here?” Talvi asked, his voice laced with concern.
Njord’s mood dimmed.
“Taking revenge,” he said grimly. “But there’s no time to chatter. My lie camps down by the fjord. Svanhild is there, as is Sveinn. It was they who paid the raiders to kill you.”
Talvi stiffened, his fury palpable. “I’ll end them both.”
“You will,” Njord assured him. “But not yet. I didn’t infiltrate their camp for nothing; I’m still hoping to gain information on your mothers’ whereabouts.”
Talvi cursed under his breath.
“The priestesses. I knew it. We should’ve chased them out of the realm and razed their sacred places to the ground.”
“Not so fast,” Njord said, placing a hand on his nephew’s shoulder to steady him. “They aren’t all the same. But Svanhild is a rotten apple for sure.”
Njord sensed H?kon’s unease as the Jotunn scanned the trees. The berserkers wouldn’t find them because of Njord’s seier, but Bloodaxe couldn’t know that.
“It would be best if you continued your journey,” Njord said. He wasn’t keen on endangering his nephew and his husband by bringing them into Svanhild’s camp. “Ride down the fjord to Liv’s hall. You’ll be safe there.”
Talvi frowned, suspicion flickering across his face.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Njord considered lying, but he knew from experience that it was no use trying to deceive Talvi if his nephew didn’t wish to be deceived.
“Dammit, Talvi. Fine. Ride to the camp if you must. Come to my tent. But Sveinn and Svanhild must live for now.”
A smug smile tugged at Talvi’s lips; his cockiness irritating and endearing in equal measure. Njord rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t entirely suppress his smile.
“I’ve brought horses for you,” he said at last. “Fetch your warriors and meet me at Sveinn’s camp. Don’t delay.”
With that, Njord turned and vanished into the fog, trusting his nephew would find him. He had more work to do, and gods help him, Talvi was as stubborn as ever.