1. Initiation Day
Initiation Day
Halla
Halla focused on the dark curl plastered against Darien’s forehead.
She’d woken from the fog jostled about in Darien’s arms. The memory of the pale-eyed man and the draugr from the warehouse quickened her heartbeat as she stared at the sweat beading on Darien’s hairline.
They wove through the streets of Lystheim—the city of Perle—as cables swayed in the darkening sky above them.
Darien’s breaths came in short gasps, and blood dripped from a nick in his neck.
“Darien,” she said, testing her voice.
“Halla!” Widening eyes glanced at her, relief evident on Darien’s face.
Halla struggled to piece together what was happening. “Is someone following us?”
“Yes,” he huffed.
She remembered the warehouse that stank of exhaust and fear, the blond man— Kafteinn Calder—who’d mimicked Darien’s voice, Larissa’s empty gaze, and the draugr.
There was a vague recollection of the warehouse’s ceiling opening up as it crashed down all around them, but Halla wasn’t sure if that had only been a hallucination caused by the lump on her throbbing head.
“Where’s Lara? And Anara?”
“Split up.”
Her chin bumped into his chest as they barreled around the corner. Darien’s body heaved for air, but he pushed forward, adjusting Halla in his arms.
“Darien, put me down,” she insisted. “I can run.”
He frowned, his feet never slowing. The muscles in his arms trembled.
“I can run!” she protested again.
The battle in Darien’s face was brief. His arms shuddered as he lowered Halla to the ground.
She had no chance to regain her footing herself before Darien’s hand grasped hers, pulling her into a run.
Her side cramped up, but Halla ignored it.
She would not complain. She would be strong like Larissa.
They’d gone to Lystheim so Anara could find a contact to lead them to the Vienám—the rebellion forming against the Empress.
The Vienám was supposed to keep them safe, but the sound of footsteps pursuing them only reminded Halla of the surrounding danger.
On the next street, a group of sentries waited.
“There they are! In the name of the Empress, stop!”
Darien pushed Halla behind him. “Run, Halla!”
His sword clanged as he blocked a sentry’s knife.
Halla didn’t know when he’d drawn it. She desperately wanted to stay, to help, but she’d promised Lara that if it all went wrong, she would run.
Halla cursed her size, knowing she was too weak to be of any help. Tears gathered in her eyes as she fled.
The sound of the commotion behind her grew louder, loud enough that she had to look back.
There were more sentries now, but these new sentries seemed to be fighting with Darien, not against him.
She couldn’t tell who was on whose side until one of the sentries drew his gun and pointed it at Darien who, engaged with another man, didn’t see it.
Just as the sentry pulled the trigger, a giant of a man tackled him to the ground.
The bullet intended for Darien whizzed so close to Halla’s face, it left a trail of heat against her cheek.
Halla turned,her small feet pounding hard down the alley. The corner was in sight, but before she could turn it, she found herself tangled in someone’s arms instead. On his upper bicep, Halla saw the flash of a black-and-white armband belonging to the thraell— the Empress’ slavers.
A strong hand wrapped around her long braids, yanking her head back and forcing her green eyes to meet unyielding gray ones. “Why’re you running, girl?”
Halla froze in fear. She knew his voice. She’d heard it the night before, when the slavers had nearly caught them all hiding in the forest.
“Halla!” Darien cried out, his voice muffled by the distance.
She struggled against the thraell ’s grip, her nails scratching at the hands that held her hair. “Let me go!”
“Fenris,” said another voice from behind Halla’s captor. “Those aren’t all sentries fighting out there.”
Halla’s heart lifted. Could it be the rebellion they’d been searching for had actually shown up? But Halla’s quick flame of hope was smothered by another yank on her hair.
Half a dozen men surrounded her, all sporting the black-and-white armbands of the thraell . They grouped behind the leader and shifted on their feet, watching the fight at the other end of the street with their hands on their weapons.
Fenris’s eyes never left Halla; he seemed unfazed by her feeble attempts at freedom. With his other hand, he grasped Halla’s face, pinching her chin between his fingers.
“Let the sentries figure it out. We’ve got our prize.”
Halla’s teeth found their mark with a swift snap.
Immediately, Fenris howled, curses streaming from his mouth as he drew back his bloodied finger.
His other hand clutched Halla’s hair more tightly, winding his fingers in the mess of her braids, refusing to let go no matter how she struggled to turn back to Darien.
She never saw the fist that hit her.
Time passed without Halla’s approval or awareness. When she awoke, cold seeped into her skin from the cement floor. The painful pulsing behind her left eye confirmed none of it had been a dream. She’d been taken by the thraell .
How long had she been unconscious? What would the thraell do once they realized she was awake? Halla squeezed her eyes, willing herself to fall back into unconsciousness, if only to prolong the moment before accepting reality.
She bit her lip, struggling against her desire to curl up and cry.
Every part of her ached. She had to be brave like Larissa, like Anara, like Darien.
In the darkness, an idea blossomed like a ray of light.
If she could not be brave as herself, she would be brave like the goddesses from Pappa’s stories.
She would pretend that she was not Halla, but rather the goddess that Loki had once captured.
I am Ieunn, goddess of spring and keeper of immortality. I will survive this. What would Ieunn do? Get information. With her new persona in place, Halla dared to open her eyes.
There was little information to be found.
Her cell had three walls made of stone and one of iron bars.
Apart from the bucket in the corner of the cell that she refused to acknowledge, she was alone.
Even the cells across the hall were empty.
She was relieved not to see the familiar faces of her sister, Darien, and Anara.
At least they had not been captured. But loneliness threatened to consume her.
If Lara hadn’t been captured, why hadn’t she come for Halla?
At the sound of metal clanking and slamming, Halla flinched and scooted away from the door.
Her hair, having fallen free from her braids, hung in waves around her face.
Heavy footfalls echoed down the stone hallway.
With every step, the light in the cell increased until the whole space was illuminated by an electric lantern.
Halla squinted against the light at the hand that held it. One of the fingers was bandaged. Her eyes traveled farther up, passing the slaver’s armband, until she met the bleak gray eyes that mocked her very existence. Halla resisted the urge to look away.
She was Ieunn, goddess of life itself, and she would not be afraid.
The man called Fenris smiled, and Halla half-expected to see the fangs of a wolf snarling at his prey. “Look who’s finally awake.”
Halla rose to her feet. I am Ieunn; I will be brave . “Where am I? You can’t keep me here!”
“Feisty thing, aren’t you? Some bidders like that, I suppose.” Fenris let his bandaged hand hang against the thick cell bars, hanging the lantern on a nearby hook. The hair on Halla’s arms stood at the growl in his voice. “I don’t. Submit, or you will receive worse than a black eye.”
Halla swallowed. She was Ieunn, she reminded herself, but her bravery shriveled up inside and left her hollow with fear.
Only one ray of hope remained: Larissa would come for her.
Darien and Anara too. Maybe they’d found a way to the Vienám after all, or even if they hadn’t, they would come back for Halla. Halla just had to hold on until then.
Fenris chuckled at her silence. “You’re learning already.”
He slammed the key into the lock, opened the barred door, and advanced toward Halla, snatching her hands from her sides.
Her chin jutted forward, though she clenched her teeth to keep it from trembling.
Fenris strangled her wrists with the cold metal that cut into her skin, and Halla imagined him as the wolf from Pappa’s stories, wishing that the god Tyre would bind him like the animal he resembled.
As if sensing her thoughts, Fenris grinned—snarled, really—before pushing Halla in front of him toward the open hallway.
“Move.”
Her bare feet protested against the cold ground. Fenris stalked behind, carrying their only source of light in the windowless prison.
To stop her fear from growing, Halla imagined that they were not in Perle at all, but rather the giant Thjazi’s home where the Trickster Loki had abandoned Ieunn to her fate.
She would bide her time until the giant was asleep, then make her escape.
She would be braver than even the original Ieunn, who had needed rescuing.
At the end of the hall, Fenris opened the door and pushed Halla through it. Hot light blinded her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, but Fenris’ impatient hands shoved her forward.
Bowing her head against the sun, she walked across a large, open compound.
Several buildings no bigger than her farmhouse back home sat evenly spaced across the hard, compact dirt.
There was no vegetation or life as far as she could see.
Beyond the small structures were longer and narrower buildings.
A tall, thick wall encircled the area—a miniscule mimicry of the Outer Wall that surrounded Perle—topped with coiled barbed wire. A thraell patrolled the length of it.