15. Flames of Memory #2
Darien raised an eyebrow. “Anara, does that liquid cause hallucinations? Larissa might be having one.”
“Helga’s our truck,” Halla explained, her voice soft with exhaustion.
“Right,” Larissa said. “Pappa and Mamma were stocking it for our family to leave. If it escaped the fire, we can use it. It’ll have supplies.”
Anara nodded, helping Halla to rise. Larissa stumbled to her feet, caught only by a hand under her arm.
“Whoa there, I’ve got you.” Darien steadied her, then let her go, leaving her skin bereft of the warmth from his hand.
Even as her heart and mind numbed themselves against her harsh reality, a twinge of gratitude leaked through.
Ignoring Anara's calculating gaze, Larissa led the way across the trampled fields, wrapping an arm around Halla’s shoulders. Just short of the drive, they stopped.
The barn and farmhouse burned on, hissing and spitting out embers.
Sitting on the drive, Helga had escaped damage, although she was covered in an inch of ash.
As she approached, Larissa could see the garden beside the house and the shapes lying within it.
She knew the moment Halla saw them too. Her sister’s hand flew to her mouth to stifle rising sobs at the sight of Pappa’s and Mamma’s bodies.
Larissa squeezed Halla’s shoulders even as her own face remained dry. “We have to give them a proper burial.”
Anara hesitated. “We don’t have time. I’m sorry, but—”
“I don’t care.”
Anara opened her mouth to argue when Darien shook his head at her. She sighed. “Quickly then.”
Unwrapping herself from Halla, Larissa propelled herself back toward her parents’ bodies.
She could not stand to see their open, empty eyes staring at the sky.
She leaned down and pressed their eyes closed.
They did not look like they were sleeping, as she had so often heard death described.
There was too much pain written on their bodies for that to be true, but closing their eyes was a step in the right direction.
“A burning burial?” Darien asked, kneeling beside her.
Larissa nodded, her throat and eyes dry. “It’s what they would have wanted.”
Halla fell to her knees beside them, weeping as they worked, but Larissa could not weep.
Not yet. Halla needed her to be strong; Halla needed her to keep it together.
An echo pulsed through the hollow space in her chest with every breath she took, and she realized she couldn’t cry even if she felt free to do so.
It was as if the fire itself had burned her tears away, leaving her painfully empty.
Darien and Anara scoured the area for dry branches and wood.
Making quick work of it, they carried the small bundles back in their arms. Larissa steeled herself to rearrange her parents’ bodies so that they were lying side-by-side, with one arm strewn over their chests.
Their opposite hands Larissa left by their sides so that she could intertwine their fingers.
Darien, Anara, and Halla arranged the wood around the bodies to form two oval shapes, like ships.
One for each of them to sail their souls into the afterlife.
They tucked the wood in close around their frames and under their sides, but left it open where Pappa’s hand covered Mamma’s.
They would face the halls of Helheim together.
As she surveyed her work, Larissa’s eyes caught a flash of light. Peering at Mamma, Larissa located the shimmer from her closed hand. In the light of the nearby fire, Larissa could just make out the edge of a ring.
Take it.
Larissa recoiled from the voice in her mind. This was too private a moment for her to share.
Take it. She wanted you to have it.
How would you know? she shot back. Whether the voice was her own sanity fragmenting or the gods themselves, she didn’t know, and, at that moment, Larissa didn’t care.
Swallowing her discomfort, Larissa gently pinched the ring and pulled it from her mother’s hand, careful not to touch her skin. The thin golden band bore a single pearl, large and luminescent. It was the pearl that reflected the fire’s light.
Why did Mamma have this? Where had she gotten it? Larissa shook her head, pocketing the ring. None of that mattered, not in that moment.
Halla’s sobs softened from exhaustion. Darien blinked his eyes rapidly as Anara pulled something from her bag, anointing Pappa’s and Mamma’s bodies.
Larissa walked to the house and yanked off a piece of charred wood from the porch.
Dipping it into a nearby flame to reignite it, Larissa walked back to her parents and dropped the wood onto the surrounding piles of sticks.
Taking their own scraps of wood, the others followed her example until the fire spread, enveloping Pappa and Mamma within the smoke.
Listening to the crackling flames and Halla’s whimpers, Larissa stood apart from the pain she could not feel. Neither the heat of the rising fire nor the sorrow marinating in her own heart could touch her. She only felt the cold.
Sensing Anara’s impatience, Larissa found the words she needed.
“Hel welcomes all into her halls, but Pappa deserves a place in Valholl. If there is any justice, Mamma will take her seat at the right hand of the Valkyrie Sigrún. They died warriors’ deaths, protecting those they love, never leaving each other, and nothing could be more honorable than that. ”
Her throat closed again. There was so much more she wanted to say.
Anara laid her hand on Larissa’s shoulder. “The sun will rise soon. We need to leave.”
“What about Onkel?” Halla croaked through her tears.
Tucker . Larissa’s eyes scanned the field, knowing she wouldn’t be able to spot Tucker’s body from where they sat or how much of his body they could salvage. She could still hear the crack his body had made under the draugr ’s weight.
Anara’s eyes were apologetic, yet unyielding. “There’s no time, unless we want to join him in the flames.”
Larissa nodded, but Halla remained kneeling in the soil. With firm but gentle hands, Larissa lifted Halla to her feet. For once, Larissa did not know what to say to help her sister. Sometimes nothing could be said. Pressing Halla’s head against her shoulder, she guided her away from the pyre.
Halla wobbled, leaning heavily on Larissa. They’d almost made it to the truck when Halla’s legs gave out. She collapsed in Larissa’s arms, her head lolling to one side.
“Halla!”
Anara’s fingers lifted Halla’s chin. “She’s fine, just passed out. It’s probably for the best. Darien, get Halla in the truck; I’ll drive.”
With gentle hands, Darien lifted Halla from Larissa’s arms. He wasn’t a large man, but Halla looked so tiny curled up against his chest. He laid her in the passenger seat as Anara adjusted her head and buckled her in.
Larissa knew she should be the one taking care of Halla, but she could only watch.
Anara spoke to Darien before walking around the front of the car and starting the engine with the keys she found on the dash.
Darien closed the passenger door and approached where Larissa stood by the tailgate.
“You ready?”
Nodding, Larissa moved to the back of the truck. As she unlatched the gate, she was struck by the memory of their last encounter. Could it only have been a week ago that they had met at the Wall? Now she was leaving her entire world behind and going with him. How had it come to this?
She lifted herself up to the bed, pushing aside the bags stored there earlier by Pappa and Mamma. They would have water and food, as well as new clothes. The large winter jacket that Pappa had thrown to Tucker was still on top of the boxes. Larissa grabbed it, wrapping it around her body.
Beneath the odor of smoke, it still smelled like home.
Her eyes burned but remained dry as she sat against the side wall of the truck.
Latching the gate as he climbed in, Darien sat opposite her.
Larissa was hardly aware of his presence as she closed her eyes and breathed in again and again, as if oxygen could erase the horrors of the evening.
If only her family had left earlier; if only Anara had never sent Halla home. Larissa could burn in the “if onlys.”
Halla said the draugr had been sent for her, but why? This was more than just hunting down second-borns.
The idling engine shook Helga’s frame. Larissa’s fingers ran over the cold grooves in the truck bed. Faithful Helga would get them where they needed to go. But where was that?
The rumble of wheels reverberated under the bed.
Larissa stole a glance at Dal’s Berry Farm, her sanctuary, her home.
The fire from her parents’ burial grew. The garden burned and the flames danced as they caught on the bushes of the nearby fields.
Would it burn everything? By the time someone came, would nothing but the ashes of her life remain?
The first touches of sunlight chased away the stars. Their family pig squealed as it ran out from the bushes, chasing after the truck, but quickly fell back in the distance, unable to keep pace.
Shivering in the heavy jacket, Larissa sank into numb oblivion.