Chapter 78
I’m falling. A second ago, I was sprinting.
How could this happen? How is this possible?
The ground crashes into me. That’s how it feels. My elbow is dragged along the gravel. I roll and turn. Looking at what used to be my house.
Ari’s scream tears through the wooden walls. I’ve heard his naked laugh, his secretive whisper, his moans of pleasure. But this… this is something else.
My eyes widen as he pushes through the doorway, shoulder splintering half of it. He pauses. His eyes look in my direction, but they don’t meet mine. They are empty. Hollow shells that no longer contain my Ari.
He folds forward, scratching at his legs. I scramble backward on my back. Ragged bursts of frosty breath escape his twisted mouth. Every part of my body shakes in terror.
“A… Ari?” I call out, my voice breaking.
His spine arches. It snaps. The sickening sound echoes in my ears. One of his shoulders juts out, stretching into an unnatural angle. His leather rips. The other shoulder follows.
“No… but… please, Freya…” I whisper.
I know my plea is pointless.
Ari’s skin pales. Not human-pale. Pale as frost.
Blue-white. Like moonlit glaciers. Cracks spider across his arms. Not wounds but veins of ice pushing outward, crawling beneath his skin. Like lightning.
He lifts his head. His eyes glow white from within, staring in my direction but right through me.
“Ari!” I call out, desperately hoping he will recognize me.
His jaw distends, stretching downwards. Sickly cracks ring out as his bones fracture. I scramble to my feet. I have to fucking run.
He unleashes an unholy sound—a high-pitched screech blended with a deep rumbling, a mountain collapsing. Metal on metal. It’s like the stories of dead warriors who never made it to Valhalla or Folkvangr. Maybe Ari is a draugr. Undead.
He grows. Bones lengthen. Joints snap. Flesh seems to harden before stretching again like wet cloth. He’s huge. His fingers thicken, reshaping into brutal frost-chiseled daggers ready to tear at flesh.
Ari turns his head suddenly. Neck bones cracking in a gruesome cacophony. He looks to Sigurd’s hall. A howl escapes his lips as his legs snap and he falls forward. They squirm, like waves are crashing within. They grow in an instant. Ripping his pants.
He raises himself, naked. His form is unnatural, shocking. Between his legs is not the normal shape of a man. Just rugged flesh, carved from stone and ice. No sex. No softness. No Ari.
A towering giant. Bigger than Asbjorn. Bigger than Vidar. His muscles still grow. Bulbous and horrendous. A monster. A troll. A… a Jotnar.
Ari steps forward, shaking the ground with each monstrous stride.
I follow him, keeping a safe distance. Or…
I don’t know how fast he can move if he wants.
Frost slithers beneath his feet, leaving grass blackened and dead.
Killing it. I know I’m in mortal danger.
Everyone is. But I’m not leaving him here.
Not like this. He stops, shaking his head in his hands.
Maybe Ari is in there, battling for control of his own body.
He roars at the moon, or at the world, or at the gods.
Then he runs. Sprints. Full speed. Faster than I could imagine.
I gasp as I realize what he’s doing. He doesn’t stop, crashing into the wall of the longhouse.
The wood shakes. The world shakes. I thought he would break through, but he stumbles and lies at the bottom of the wall.
He claws at the wooden planks, leaving grooves with his enormous fingers.
Like he wants something in there… Like he…
It dawns on me. Of course!
The hammer! Sigurd said a southern queen had given him the ring and the hammer. It must be connected. The hammer’s magic is starving—it yearns for its other half. It was the ring all along. But one thing was missing. Ari’s Jotnar blood. The final ingredient.
“Fuck,” I whisper as I turn on my heel.
Lucky for me, Ari is stupid in his giant form. At least for now. His confused mind does not understand the concept of a door. But I do. He saved my life in the river. Now I have to save his.
Full speed inside. Men have risen. The entire valley must be awake by now. I ignore them all, sprinting past guards who are arming themselves. They have no idea what they are up against. Spears and shields won’t stop what I have unleashed. I hope no one gets hurt. Especially Ari. He could die too.
The hall shakes as Ari hammers the wall from outside. Dust falls from the rafters like snow in the dark of winter.
I push open Sigurd’s door, entering his chamber uninvited for the second time tonight. Sigurd turns to me. He has already put on his chainmail and is donning his sword.
“Kilda.” He shakes his head. “No fucking surprise.”
“No time,” I pant. “The hammer.”
“What? What are you—”
Fuck it. I run past him. No time.
Another slam into the side of the wall. Ari must be right outside these planks. Desperate to come in. Desperate for the hammer. I don’t know why—I don’t want to know. I don’t want to find out. He’s not getting his hands on it.
There it is. Glowing a vicious sizzling blue.
The hammer beats like a rotting heart. An object of hate.
Death. Its energy claws past me, toward Ari, through the wall.
At first its disgusting pulse makes me nauseous, almost dizzy.
Sour breath enters my mouth as I fight the impulse to vomit. I grab the hammer’s haft.
Fucking Queen. How patient is she? Waiting for years to trigger her trap. Planning for decades. Giving cursed gifts. Sending cursed skalds. She must really fucking hate Sigurd. And poor Ari is just… Ari is…
Ari is a weapon. A living, breathing weapon.
Stuffing the hammer into my bag, I turn to the door. But Sigurd fills its frame.
“Explain yourself, girl,” he mutters.
I pant, my breath caught in my chest.
“Please… plea… Sigurd, ther… there’s no time.”
Another slam on the wall, the planks break inwards. Cool air fills the room. Sigurd turns. He sees what I see. Ari’s enormous head. His twisted face. Ice. Still recognizable.
“By all the go—”
Ari screams through the hole. Both Sigurd and I fall backward, shocked by the soundwave. My ears are ringing as I stumble to my feet.
This is my chance.
I jump over Sigurd and through the door.
“Sorry!” I shout.
I sprint past panicking men. Sigurd barks orders at them behind me. I just need to get outside. Ari wants the hammer. If I can get to the woods, maybe I can lead him awa—
A thunderous crack. Ari’s arm is in the building. He grabs the nearest man by the torso and squeezes. The man squeals as his bones crack. Blood gushes.
“Oh, fuck,” I whisper as I turn to run.
I hit a wall. A hard, immovable wall. Vidar’s chest. I fall on my back.
“You bitch!” he shouts, his face screwed into a nasty snarl. “Fucking witch!”
He jumps down on me. Sitting over my legs and stomach.
“No, please, Vidar, I have to—”
His hand comes swinging. A savage slap. My world shakes. I see white. My ear rings like a struck bell. For a moment, everything seems distant. Darkness nips at the edge of my vision.
“Please,” I gasp. “Please.”
Another titanic slap. On the other side.
“I told you,” he snarls, swinging again.
I taste blood. My neck might snap if he keeps going. I panic. Kicking and snapping my teeth, hoping to bite any part of him. My life is over. I’m fucking done.
“I told you I would make you squirm.”
He punches me in the face before standing. I’m confused, dazed. Up and down. No clue. My hair gets tugged before a searing pain rips through my scalp. Vidar is pulling me by my hair across the floor. I try to spin, to stand, but he yanks me down. My hair tingles like fire. Excruciating.
“Please,” I whisper, but he can’t even hear me.
Metal clanking. I know that sound all too well. A fucking chain. No fucking chance. Never again.
Vidar sits over my stomach. We make eye contact. A wicked grin splits his face.
“We’re not done,” he says. He places a hand on my forehead and pushes my head down on the ground, leaning forward to whisper in my ear. “We’ve only just begun.”
A feral vibration builds in my chest. My arm is free. I hiss like a cat. Like a lynx. I reach into my leather satchel. I feel the warmth of my gold. My necklace.
Vidar laughs.
“So desperate.”
I remember my moment in the darkness of the river. The cold. Alone. Disconnected. But cold isn’t what I need now. I need heat. I need fire.
In the river. No. Out of the river.
Ari’s hand. Pulling me up. The heat of the furs we shared. His hand. Raising me out of the cold. Kilda will live forever.
The necklace burns hot in my hand. I feel its searing heat, but I don’t pull back. I am not afraid. This is me. Mine. My power. I grip it tighter, ripping it out of the bag.
Vidar raises an arm. To swing again. To hurt me.
But I am ready. I am faster.
I lift the necklace. It would melt if it were hotter.
I mush it into Vidar’s cheek. Into his eye. A beastly roar escapes my chest as I push the burning gold into his face.
He shrieks, pulling back and bringing a hand to his wound. The smell of cooked flesh taints the air. I slip out from under him. He stays on his knees, holding his fried face.
“Bitch!” he screams.
“Bitch!” I shout back as I smash the lynx necklace into the back of his head. Gold is heavy. The metal crunches into his skull. I love it. Piece of fucking shit.
He falls to the ground. Lying on his side as he feels the back of his head.
“Nasty bitch!” I shout in his face.
I pull my leg back as far as it goes before swinging my boot right into his mouth. Teeth give in. They crack. I hurt my big toe. But I don’t give a fuck. The feeling of making Vidar swallow his teeth outweighs any pain.
He mumbles and wheezes. Blood bubbles from his ugly fucking face. Relief washes over me. Making a filthy pig like Vidar bleed. If I died now, I would leave in glory. I shout at the top of my lungs.
“Fuck you!”
Look around.
Men are dead. Men are bleeding. Screaming. This is the cost of my choices. A hearth has spilled. Coals everywhere. Flames licking the floor and coloring it black. The hall burns. I brought it to ruin. It’s all fucking over.
Ari is still reaching through the hole in the wall. Too large to enter. Too stupid to expand the hole. Fuck… he’s grown even bigger.
Sigurd and two other men are trying to fight him back.
Fucking idiots.
“Run!” I shout at Sigurd.
He hears me. He turns. A brave smile on his face.
Sigurd can’t flee his hall. Of course. He’s a proud man.
A proud stupid fucking man. As I think the thought, as Sigurd and I make eye contact, Ari’s arm swings in.
It connects with Sigurd’s side. He flies through the air, crashing into the wall and landing in a lifeless heap.
Thyra, Njord… now Sigurd. How many corpses do I leave in my wake?
His body starts convulsing. His last breath.
Honor. The price we pay.
Sigurd can’t flee. He can’t run.
But Kilda can.