A battle with the reavers? So that’s the lie he spun for her… or the lie she put in his mouth for him.
Freya nodded slowly. “Well, that is quite lucky for him. The last time I saw him, I was sure he was falling to his death.”
“We can discuss your adventures later when we celebrate your victory properly,” the queen said quickly, her voice pitched more to address the crowd than to speak to Freya. “But right now there is another matter of even greater importance. With Fenrir dead, the source of the plague is gone, but the plague itself is still among us. But perhaps the ancient valas of Rekavik could help us find a cure. Tell me, Freya, did you find the rinegold ring that our beloved king wore to his death?”
Freya took the ring from inside her shirt.
This almost sounds rehearsed. It’s all a performance, all an act to keep the people happy.
She held the ring out to the queen. “I did.”
There was a brief flash of surprise, the tiniest hint of shock and disbelief, and perhaps even anger in Skadi’s eyes when she saw the golden trinket in Freya’s hand, but it was gone in an instant and the queen continued to play the gracious and joyous hostess of the gathering. “The ring!”
Again the crowd cheered, some shouting Freya’s name and others calling for Skadi, and even a few cries of “Ivar!” as the queen took the ring.
“This is more good fortune than we have known in many years,” Skadi said. “Now with this ancient and powerful relic of our great city, there is hope that we may discover a cure for the reaver plague. If the ancient valas of Rekavik have the knowledge, and they find me worthy to receive it, then we may soon know a lasting peace again. But that is work still to be done in the long days ahead. Tonight we celebrate a great victory!”
The crowd cheered, and the cheers devolved into shouts and laughs and boasts, and in the joyous chaos the smiling queen turned and led her entourage back inside the castle walls. As soon as they were in the inner courtyard, Wren dashed over and threw her arms around Freya’s waist. The huntress grunted at a sudden pain in her bruised ribs, but hugged the girl back.
“I was so scared. When Leif came back alone, I thought you were dead,” the little vala whispered. She leaned back with a sad-eyed smile, and then frowned sharply at the huntress’s shirt. “Is this all dried blood? This is a lot of blood.”
“It’s reaver blood.”
“Ew.” Wren peeled her arms off her friend, but grabbed her empty hand. “And you cut your hair? Why would you… Oh gods, Erik! Is he really gone?”
“No. At least not yet. He was bitten,” Freya whispered.
“By a reaver? Oh no!”
“Actually, no. It wasn’t a reaver. It was a tainted bloodfly. Don’t worry. He’s resting at the water mill we passed on the road. I’ll explain everything as soon as we’re alone.”
Wren nodded. “I have things to tell you too.”
The group moved back through the dining hall toward the many doors and corridors at the center of the castle. The queen paused. “Well, it has been a momentous day, and there will be a feast tonight, so I suggest we all get some rest. I certainly have enough work ahead of me with this ring, and I imagine there is still a long road ahead before the reavers are gone for good.” She nodded and the group nodded or bowed or curtsied in reply, and Skadi passed through the curtains to her audience chamber.
The guardsmen slapped Freya on the back and congratulated her on her kill before wandering off to their own duties. One man relieved her of the sack containing the demon’s head, and Freya gave it away with a grateful nod. In the bustle of that moment, Freya noted that the apprentice Thora turned toward the bedrooms on the right instead of following her mistress to the left. So Freya held Wren back a moment before following the tall girl back to their own rooms.
Wren fidgeted with her fingers.
“Something wrong?”
The girl wrapped her hands up in her blanket and used the fringe of it to wipe the sweat from her brow. “No, nothing. Katja’s fine, by the way.”
“Good.”
“No, I mean, I stopped them.” Wren swallowed. “When Leif came back, we thought you and Erik were dead, and there was no hope of finding a cure, so there was no reason to keep Katja alive. Thora and I went to make a poison to kill her. I didn’t want to, I swear, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say or do. It was all happening so fast. But then, while we were waiting for the poison to set into a pellet, I realized I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill her. So I ruined the pellet and there wasn’t any other poison left, so now they’re just going to starve Katja to death. Of course, I’ve been slipping her bits of meat through the bars of her cell, so I think she’s all right. For now, at least.”
Freya saw the pain and fear in the girl’s darting eyes, and she laid a reassuring arm across Wren’s shoulders. “It’s all right. I understand. I’m thankful that you saved her, but I would have understood if you hadn’t, or couldn’t. I’ve known for days now that Katja may not survive this. And that I might have to kill her myself.”
Wren nodded.
“Come on.” Freya led her friend down the hall to the bedrooms and they were about to turn through a curtain on their right when she heard a heavy boot tread on the stones behind her. She turned. “Leif.”
For a young man who’d been maimed, thrown into a river, and forced to cross countless leagues of reaver hunting grounds alone and unarmed, he looked surprisingly well. But the closer he came, the more clearly she saw the strain in the lines of his neck and the creases around his eyes and mouth.
It’s a front. He’s a walking corpse. But who is he trying to impress? Me?
“How’s the shoulder?” she asked.
“It hurts,” he said.
“And what did Skadi say when you told her what really happened to your arm?”
Leif frowned.
“Did you tell her?” Freya narrowed her eyes. “Does queenie know who’s out there?”
Leif looked away.
Wren tilted her head and said in a sing-songy voice, “Oh, queenie doesn’t know.” Then she looked up at Freya. “Know what? Who’s out there?”
“Someone who knows the truth about the reavers,” Freya said. “And the truth about Skadi and Leif here.”
“He’s not who you think he is,” Leif said. “He’s a freak of nature. A demon. A liar. A sorcerer. He doesn’t care about you or the plague or saving lives. He only cares about himself, and about his power.”
“He’s a very old man from a far away land, and he has a very dangerous sword,” Freya said. “It’s that simple. And when he comes back here, you’re going to have to answer for the things that you’ve done.”
The young warrior stepped closer to her, and for a moment she saw a glimmer of real steel and ice in his eyes. “Pray to the gods that he stays away. Because if he does come back, you can be sure that I’ll kill you and your little pet before he kills me.”
Freya heard the venom in his voice and knew the threat was real. This was a young man who had spent the last five years fighting reavers, even fighting Fenrir himself.
He is a traitor and a liar and a coward, but he’s also a killer.
She stepped back against the wall and let him pass, and he strode by, his back straight and head held high as he slipped through the curtain into Thora’s room.
Freya nodded slowly.
So that’s who he’s trying to impress.
Chapter 20. Council
Omar Bakhoum sat down in the bottom of the rocky pit in the shadow of Ivar’s Drill and dangled his legs over the lip of the tunnel. The hole stared up at him, the darkness gazing into him in silence.
Near silence.
The tiny buzzing of the mosquitoes kept him scowling and jerking his head away, trying to keep the pests from whining in his ears. He gripped his sword and called the names of his inner council, his ghostly advisors, a few chosen souls from among the countless thousands that resided in his sun-steel blade.