Chapter 19 #3
My father’s voice echoed in my mind, and I clung to the familiarity of it as I looked from Viljan to the crowd beneath us.
Ottoh was still swimming around in the dark water, his light hair trailing after him as he took strong strokes in a circle.
Around him the water creased and rippled from his movements and from the waterfall feeding the lake.
A song rose from the water, layering across my skin like an invisible blanket.
If I closed my eyes, I could hear the hum of my father’s ships. I could feel the strength of the wood as it protected us from the seas and our enemies. I could smell the iron and blood and sweat that surrounded us after every battle.
A fierce sense of homesickness washed over me, but it didn’t bring tears to my eyes, nor did it force a pressure over my chest. Resolve built within me instead, and I pushed back my shoulders as it continued to spread through my limbs.
“I’ll take the top one,” I said.
“You don’t have to,” Ivren replied cautiously. “You have nothing to prove.”
I raised a brow.
“You’re the Sweengard heir,” Ivren argued. “Rakkel, tell her.”
Rakkel was quiet.
“Rakkel?” Ivren demanded.
“They hate her,” Rakkel said slowly, offering me an apologetic grimace. “I’d say she might be the only one who has anything to prove.”
She was almost right. I had everything to prove.
“I’ll take the top one,” I repeated. Turning to Viljan, I added, “You can come, but you cannot try to convince me not to do this.”
For once, he didn’t protest.
“Are you sure?” Ivren asked cautiously. “It’s dangerous, Elvara.”
“Being alive is dangerous,” I replied with a shrug.
Being me was dangerous. Every day here, I’d fought for my life. A jump from a waterfall didn’t sound too bad if it would get the karls off my back for a little.
I felt Viljan follow when I started walking up the hill.
With every step, I was becoming more certain of my decision. Not only in jumping, but in choosing Viljan as my second. In choosing Kilia as my third. I’d decide on a fourth by the end of the night, too, and when I did, I would have provided a legacy I could be proud of.
Viljan was the perfect second. He was strong. He was unyielding. He was loyal.
My iron-bound would respect him, even if they never could me. Kilia might hate me for what happened to his brother, but he was still a good person. Strong. Capable. Clever.
They’d treat my people well.
I smiled as the heat from Viljan’s body traveled across my back.
Perhaps, somewhere deep down, my father had known that this—us being here instead of Lika and his guard—was a possibility.
That I might have to betray those who should stand closest to me, so there would need to be someone who could easily take my place.
When I reached the top of the cliff, I was ready. Without looking down, I walked out on the hard stone, grateful that it was summer and dry. The ledge was still warm from the sun’s rays, ensuring my boots had a good grip, and when Viljan came to my side, I felt steady.
The stars winked at us across the velvet sky while my guard’s slow breaths surrounded me. As the stares of the hundreds of karls pinned me in place, their low voices bouncing over the water, I turned to Viljan, feeling as if I needed to explain—as if this might be the last time I could.
“Lika would have done it,” I whispered.
“He would,” Viljan agreed.
It was quiet for a few heavy seconds, and some of my resolve cracked at the tension seeping from my guard.
“Just say it,” I said.
Viljan shuffled his feet. “Lika would have done it. But you don’t have to. You’re not him.”
“You don’t have to remind me,” I snarled. “I know I am not him. I can never be him.”
I pressed a hand against the top of my chest.
“I won’t be welcomed into Valhalla when this is done, Viljan.
What I’ve had to do? There is no warrior’s honor in that.
” I stared out into the night, understanding why my mother had barely been able to look at me when we left.
“I have lied. I have cheated. I have betrayed people. But you haven’t.
You won’t have to. When I die, we can all rest assured that you’ll lead our people with everything I couldn’t: honor, duty, strength. ”
Viljan dragged a hand over his long braids, moving them onto his back so they rested beside the two axes hanging there.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t fucking hear that.
” His leathers squeaked as he turned to face me.
“You might not be your brother.” Viljan lowered his voice.
“But you have your own strength. There is honor in sacrifice, Vara. And you have sacrificed so much.”
I threw out my hands. “Look at the mess I’ve caused.
Ivren knows about us. Kilia knows too. I fell for Ottoh’s trap the first day, and the king might well have killed me.
I’ve nearly died several times from being attacked and during training.
” I swallowed. “My mother was right. I am no leader, Viljan. But I’m all right with that.
I realized I have another purpose, and I will fight until the last of my warmth is spent—until every drop of blood in my body has joined the sea, and the tide claims whatever is left—to ensure my father’s legacy lives on. ”
Viljan stepped up beside me, keeping his distance. Facing the tall drop, where water rushed down so forcefully drops peppered the cliffs all around the fall, he lowered his voice even further. “Fuck your mother.”
My eyes drew his way as if he’d spelled me.
The muscle in his jaw worked. “She’s never believed in you.
You are strong. You have skill.” He reached out as if to place a hand on my shoulder, but at the last second he closed his fist, his mouth drawing into a rare smile—I could count on one hand how many times I’d seen it.
“You are loyal and kind and thoughtful, and above all you are clever. Lika was many things, but he was never as cunning as you. How many times did you escape me growing up?” The corners of his mouth hiked higher.
“Your father scolded me all the time for losing sight of you, but I knew he was secretly proud. You know how to get yourself out of situations, Elvara. Lika had nothing on you there. You can do this your own way.”
“You’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead,” I mumbled as my cheeks burned.
“I doubt Lika would come for me for it,” Viljan said. “There are so many other things he could take me out for.”
I frowned at that, but the next second Ottoh called out from below, “If none of you cowards are jumping, can you come down and serve me some ale?”
“I hate him,” I said.
“You’re not alone.” Viljan waved his hand toward the ledges. “If you were planning on going next, you probably need to hurry.”
Ivren had taken the ledge right above Geord, while Rakkel made her way onto the one beneath me. When he noticed me, Ivren cupped his mouth with his hands and called, “Should we do it together?”
I rolled my eyes as I inched forward.
The water broke the moon’s reflection, the swirls taunting me with their playful ripples.
“Come on, Sweengard,” Ivren called. “I’ll make sure you get up again.”
“I can’t do this,” Rakkel whined over the wind. “I don’t like heights, and I might be the best fucking sailor out there, but I don’t like swimming.”
“You won’t have to if we hit any hidden rocks,” I tried to joke.
It wasn’t particularly funny, but a small part of me warmed when Rakkel still snickered.
“Fuck!” Geord’s scream was emphasized by the thudding of his boots. Silence enveloped the night as he ran blindly toward the edge. His feet touched air, and he tumbled off.
His cry reverberated across the water as he spun in the air.
Viljan and I winced when he hit the surface face-first before disappearing beneath it.
“That’s what he gets for taking the lowest one,” Rakkel said as the rings around his vanishing body grew larger.
Geord didn’t take as long as Ottoh to surface, and when he did, he didn’t bother gloating but swam swiftly to the shore, where a few of the karls dragged him onto the ground.
He remained there on his back as Ivren shouted, “It is a competition, girls. I’m sorry!”
Ivren’s jump was more elegant. His raven hair flew around his face, and he even managed a wave before he formed his body into an arrow, diving through the water almost without disturbing it at all.
A scowl marred Rakkel’s face. “I really don’t want to,” she admitted.
“Neither do I.” I shook my head. “But they survived, so I guess we will too.”
“A girl can hope.” When Rakkel grinned gravely before inching closer to the edge, I moved as well.
My heart thudded so loudly it thundered through the night, and I wiped my clammy hands on my leathers as Ivren got himself out of the water.
“You should go,” Rakkel called, her voice trembling. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
I didn’t have time to respond before the crowd began chanting into the night.
“Jump.”
“Jump.”
“Jump.”
The knot that had knitted in my stomach grew, twisting and turning until I could taste the dried meat I’d managed to gobble down this morning.
Pulling in a deep breath, I closed my eyes.
It was only water. Our people loved the water.
But we also respect it.
Ignoring the small voice, I tried to bring my mind to our village.
We had cliffs where everyone cleaned their clothing and where we would jump off in the summer.
I remembered the happy squeals and splashing as we played growing up, and a gentle humming rose around me.
My shoulders lowered at the calm notes, at the smells of home—of burning fires and food and fresh wood—and I tuned out all other sounds, focusing only on the rippling water, both intimately familiar and strangely new.
“Elvara.”
I only shook my head at Viljan.
I wanted to drown in the memory—to stay where Lika still laughed and my father’s word was still law. Back when the cliffs were just a playground and the sea wasn’t a grave waiting for my blood.
Water roared in my ears. If I took another step, I’d only find air.