Page 87
Story: Song of Sorrows and Fate
“Possible,” Olaf offered. “But he favors mountainous ranges since most folk find it more difficult to navigate. He trained us often on unstable ground.”
“And he knows the Rave will know him.”
Olaf grinned a little viciously. “Exactly. Which is why I expect the attack to come here. Straight on. We should set our defenses on the shore.”
“All?” Silas asked.
“All. We do not have great numbers; we will need every blade.” Olaf’s thumb dragged away from the old north cliffs on the ancient map. “He has joined, somehow, with the folk of the sea. I’d say he’ll come head-on. Here at the docks. Look for swimmers and skiffs approaching in narrow coves or in the shadows since sea fae have larger vessels than us. They won’t be able to bring them all into port.”
Memories of the dead Ever King’s ship that ripped me to the East still lifted my skin. Then again, I wasn’t convinced it was the actual vessel that turned my insides—it was more that pushy bastard named Thorvald. He had few manners, and certainly didn’t know how to calmly ask for favors.
“Their ships are beastly monstrosities,” I said with a bit of theatrics, but it suited. “Like vicious deep-sea creatures that sail above the surf and below it, too.”
“I remember them similarly,” Olaf said. “They might not be able to take the rivers out of sheer size. So, the docks are where I’d suggest placing the most protections.”
I’d agreed, but it was half-hearted. Protections, even at the docks, wouldn’t be enough, and we all knew it.
What could we do? Spread ourselves thin, or put most of our attention on the main gates of our new fortress of Raven Row? I stared down at the lines of shields, the spears, the blades. The Rave were unmoving. Across towers and parapets and walkways, they all kept time in their steps. What I’d give for a bit of distance between us and the bubbling chasm.
So many wrongs could happen. So many lives could be lost. I was no warrior. By the hells, at times I hardly felt like a woman. I felt naïve, despite my turns of life. I felt uncertain, as though all this time I’d been more reliant on the nudges of fate and not my own seidr, and I’d never noticed.
Now, the ending was unwritten. It could go either way.
I closed my eyes, it seemed as though a thorny ball flailed about in my belly. The worst of it all was all this new, bleeding land, and none of my royals had shown their faces.
Had they been crushed? Were the Norns so cruel that they’d rip them away without a chance to fight? Was it my fault for waiting so damn long? The burn in my chest was unforgiving. Brutal, really. I felt as though I might crush beneath the weight of it all if I could not catch a glimpse of them soon.
“You can speak of your troubles to me.”
I whipped around. Silas, buried beneath a hood, mask hiding his scar, leaned one shoulder against a tower wall at the entrance to the parapet.
A smile tugged at my lips. I patted the space beside me, then watched as he crossed over to me and dangled his long legs much the same.
I let my head drop to his shoulder. Slowly, he tipped his head, so his cheek rested on top of mine.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I admitted.
“Do what?”
“Fight. I barely survived the last battle. I had one bleeding job to do: hold Malin’s ring and summon the others through the damn Nightrender’s shadows. I dropped it. Dropped it. Then practically exploded.”
Silas chuckled softly. “I know. You sang. It was us connecting. Your seidr was too powerful for that leech to touch.”
“Leech is such a dull name for him. Dig deeper next time.”
Silas’s cheek moved on my head, and I took a guess that he was grinning. “Can I speak true, Little Rose?”
“Always.”
“I’m not certain I can do this either.”
I lifted my head, holding his stare. “You are strong. You’ve always been a fighter.”
“For you,” he said. “I fought for you.”
My brows tugged together. “You trained with the Rave, with Annon.”
“I was a boy,a boy, when our world changed. Since then, I’ve . . . I’ve battled shadows, Calista. My first real kill was that sea singer at the docks, and only because I’ve practiced and observed the proper way to snap a neck for centuries. I am no warrior, not like your kings and queens.”
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