Chapter 49
Forty-Nine
As we approached Byernen, my mouth fell open in awe. It wasn’t the land that held my focus, but the chaos of ships gathered in the bay—an uncountable swarm of wooden creatures, with wide eyes and open, hungry mouths, packed together like a great flock of migrating birds.
It wasn’t just me who was impressed by the size of the fleet; the whole crew was—those off duty scrambled to the ship’s rails to have a better look, hollering across the water to the other ships.
An electric energy flowed through the air, and wind-muffled shouts came back from across the sea. It would seem no one was prepared for the sight—those on the other ships were just as giddy.
Even Fell cursed under his breath.
Flojer bellowed over the joyful shrieking. “Rest her on the southernmost side of the gaggle, further out than the rest.”
He was the captain, so of course, no one questioned him, but I sensed the crew was deflated by his command. I expected they wanted to get closer, to see in detail the mass of the Norsern ships, to feel the spirit of so much strength in one place.
As The Fearsome Beast manoeuvred, my eyes struggled to rest somewhere.
There was a ship that looked like a dragon and one that was carved like a unicorn-sea beast—painted white with a fish-tail carved into its rear.
There was a ship that, instead of two eyes like a normal creature, had many, all different sizes—the shields of its rowing warriors bound to the ship’s rails, each also bearing a giant ogling eye.
One ship was painted to look like blood was dripping off its deck into the sea, another was the blue of sky with clouds, making it seem like the crew was floating.
“I do not want to be stuck waiting for the rest of these clams to get out of our way when it is time to go! I would like to be the first to get where we are going, to show the rest how it is done!” Flojer boomed.
A ripple of laughter spread across the crew as my whole body tensed. To where we are going. I couldn’t doubt the burn in my stomach. This wasn’t simply a raiding party.
This was an army.
This was a force that could wage war.
“No mead,” Flojer shouted. “Rowers stay at your benches. The king could send us on our merry way any moment!”
The ship rocked gently as she slowed, as we parted from the ships we had been travelling with—the five of them, including the ship Arik was on—curved into the bay. A path of sea had been left open, presumably so the king could reach the land where he and the captains would meet.
Flojer’s voice was closer suddenly, and I turned to find him approaching.
“Yarlav. Fara. Rowan. Kelt. You will row to shore. I want all the rind they will sell you. Honey, water, and pickles. Do not let them sell you anything else. I do not want to be stopping once we have set off until absolutely necessary. Go quick.”
Yarlav was already heaving open the cache and flipping it, revealing the door to be a small rowing boat.
“And you,” Flojer turned to me. “Arik would speak with you on land. Soon, before he meets with the captains. Let us skip his messenger coming to summon you, eh? Once you are back on board, I will go to land.”
Fell raised his brows, and the captain smirked. “You may go as well, though he does not need to see you.”
But then Flojer leaned in and spoke in hushed words. “Between you and me, I do not know how Halvar will fare on other ships. If you leave him with us while you land, Arik will have to let you come back to The Fearsome Beast.”
Fell stared into the captain’s eyes for one long moment before looking at me. I could tell without him speaking that he wanted to agree, to leave Halvar onboard.
“Fine,” I said. “But you will explain to Arik why he doesn’t get to see his favourite person.
” I tried to make my words playful, but they didn’t come out that way.
Too much of me was tangled. Was this the largest fleet ever to gather in all of time?
I dug around in our bag, my clammy hands finding my lyre.
If King Arik requested a song, I wanted to be able to oblige.
But more than that, my instrument was a soothing thing to me. I wanted to feel safe.
“Make a proper Norsern impression,” Rowan said, pointing at something I didn’t immediately understand.
Fell did. He bent to pull the scabbard and dagger that Rowan had made me from our bag, the silver glinting in the sun.
How I hated it.
All the same, I took the blade to be polite, hiding my dismay.
The dull throbbing sound of countless crews in the distance mingled with the squeaking of the oar rings and the strained groaning of wood beneath us to create a ghostly rhythm that mingled with the glug-woosh of waves and the crooning of gulls circling overhead.
As we neared shore in our little rowboat, the smooth white stretches of sand reflected the glare of the sun—I had to squint to bear the sight: faded, sun-bleached trees lined the beach, their foliage picked away by seabirds.
A large yellow tent stood out against the pale grey of sea-smoothed pebbles.
Something is wrong with this sight. It took me a moment to figure out what it was. Despite all the ships, the beach was nearly empty.
We rested the boat against the dock that stretched at least halfway across the southern end of the bay and set the rest of the way on foot.
The dock and then the beach felt uneven beneath my feet, as if they were moving like the sea, but since they weren’t, I stumbled and struggled to set my direction.
A woman with golden eyelids—presumably Kelt—giggled as she watched, but Yarlav cut the jesting short before it truly began. “Kaker said be quick.” He turned to me. “I will be right here waiting to take you back when you are done.”
I nodded, trying to readjust my hold on my scabbard and my lyre so I could smooth out my skirt.
Our little group dispersed, Kelt and Fara making their way deeper onto shore toward the smoke spirals in the distance, marking the city of Byernen.
Yarlav and Rowan took a seat at the dock’s end, as Fell and I walked up the beach toward the tent, the sand so hot I could feel the warmth through the leather of my boots.
I struggled to fasten my scabbard as we walked, given I had my lyre in one hand. Fell stopped. “Here…”
He pulled the scabbard tight against my hips, but not uncomfortably so. He fastened it, and tugged it a little so the blade rested atop my right leg.
Though I’d despised the gift upon first receiving it, once I had it on, I did feel a sense of belonging. It was true that most every Norsern carried a blade on them, even children. I must have always looked out of place with my black hair and my lack of steel.
Hallbjern was lounging on a rock just outside the tent, his hand raised to his forehead, shading his eyes.
“Well, if it is not the prettiest couple I ever did see.”
I glared at him, and Fell grinned beside me.
Hallbjern pointed at me. “A mean sort of pretty.” And then he dragged his finger to Fell. “And a friendly sort, just as I remember.”
Hallbjern’s hair wasn’t running wild as it had been the last time I’d seen him, but was braided tightly to his scalp.
He wore oiled leathers and had a shield in the sand beside him.
“The king is not in,” he said. “But he should be back soon. You can sit in the shade of the pavilion as you wait, if you would like.”
I took a step forward before Halbjern grimaced at Fell. “He requested a private reading.”
“Of course,” Fell said, relaxing against the same rock Halbjern rested on, leaving me to enter alone.
The space was much like the king’s workroom back in Aalt.
A tall table for standing at. Piles of parchment.
His glorious, newly commissioned map, with his own personal sigil in the corner. I stared at the map.
Whatever comes, Hyrold…
“Ah! Gentlewoman!”
I turned to see Arik’s boisterous face as he marched into the tent with his arms raised.
Ivar and Eydis were at his sides—their hair braided tight to their scalps just like Hallbjern’s had been, their eyes lined with kohl, their shields strapped to their backs.
The pair of them looked truly ferocious.
Arik’s eyes gleamed. “The voyage has served you well. You glow. I must keep you hidden from my more jealous courtiers. They might try to steal your skin.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
Arik stopped. “Where is Halvar?”
“I…” My hands tightened on my lyre. “I left him aboard. He… loved it so much.”
“Does not surprise me!” King Arik said cheerily. “He came from the storm.”
He nodded to Ivar and Eydis. They left without a word or even an acknowledgement, which felt odd for both of them.
My heart pattered a little faster, and I opened my mouth to greet Arik in return, but he was much quicker.
“I have been thinking about what you said when you cast my stones. And I am left with many questions. I will decide which course to take this day. It is important that I know who is to betray me before I do.”
I shifted. “Betray?”
“Yes,” he said, coming around the table so we were facing each other. “The person who is to harm me—”
“I said disappoint—”
“Disappoint, betray—to a king these are the same thing.”
My jaw tensed.
“You said I would not expect it. This is the part, Gentlewoman, that confuses me. As always, with everyone, I am expecting it.”
“I… maybe I choose poor words, I had only just learned to speak—”
“It matters not. These were the words skael had you speak. I am hoping you could cast my stones once more before I make my final decisions. You and Jorn have given me drastically different readings.”
“Of course,” I said, my heart still pattering inexplicably.
I turned to the tent entrance, which Eydis had closed on her way out.
“I didn’t bring my casting stones—” I had packed them, thinking Arik might ask me to read for him, but hadn’t thought to bring them to shore.
I’d been too distracted by the mass of ships.