Page 22

T he next day, we kept a good pace. We talked more, and Byrgir told me of his life in the village.

How he went there as a Keeper of the Ironguard and was meant to live near Eilith, to help keep her safe from shadowfiends in her remote dwelling.

How she refused to let him live on the property as the Ironguard intended, arguing that she didn’t need that much protection, ever the independent hermit.

But he visited frequently and did many chores for her, including collecting firewood, as he had been doing the day we met.

The rest of his efforts went to protecting the village of Skeioholm instead.

When we weren’t talking, he sometimes made up nonsensical songs about Tiny and Precious, as he called them, singing of their escapades to the tunes of old folksongs.

“Tiny and Precious

So small and stout

Always searching

Followed their snout

Came to the hut

Of a woman of white

Hair fair as snow

Eyes black as night

But it was not safe

In dark spooky woods

Sensing the danger

They ran fast as they could

Away they dashed

As fast as they dared

But catch them she did

And turned them to hares.”

Vardir and Garmr had quit scouting ahead and now patrolled only behind us. Occasionally one of them would catch up, survey us, and then vanish into the woods again.

Byrgir swung a leg over his mount’s back and turned around in his saddle, so he rode facing backwards.

He continued his song, humming parts and then cutting in with silly lyrics.

I marveled at his upbeat mood, his confidence, when I could think only of what had happened to Eilith.

Of where she was now, of the state her steading may have been left in.

But his joviality was contagious, and I hummed along to his song.

Byrgir caught my eye with sudden intention.

He tapped his lower thigh with two fingers extended, then pointed back behind us in the direction he faced.

Two following behind us, he meant. I gave a subtle nod as he turned to face forward in the saddle again.

No wonder the wolves had put their focus on our rear guard.

We rode on for another hour and then followed a side path down to a camping spot near the river. Evening was approaching. Byrgir started a fire, despite my questioning look.

He stepped close to me as I loosened Anam’s saddled, and spoke under his breath, “They know where we are. We won’t lose them unless we leave the main road. Or kill them.”

I nodded and checked my bow and quiver, although I did not feel prepared to face those men again.

We went about setting up camp, the rushing of the river providing a calming background noise to our evening chores. Despite the peaceful setting, I remained paranoid.

Byrgir took our water jugs and the kettle down to the river, calling the wolves to follow him.

Perhaps to show them where they could drink, maybe for the extra protection.

They disappeared into the small band of trees that separated our elevated clearing from the riverbank.

I took advantage of the privacy and dug a spare shirt from my pack.

Something clean and dry would be a welcome change from the shirt I had been in for two days.

I had just started to pull the loose linen shirt over my head when a large hand clamped over my mouth, and I felt the cold line of a blade press against my throat. I screamed into the hand and grabbed for the knife at my belt, but it was already gone. I heard it hit the ground next to me.

“Quiet now, darling,” an unknown male voice murmured in my ear. He pulled me back, pressing me tight to him as I struggled. “If you thrash too hard, this knife will bite. And nobody wants that.”

I stilled, pulling in deep breaths through my nose. I tried to focus, tried to think of any way out of this. Any incantation that could help me.

“Now, I’m going to turn you around and you’re going to hold your hands out for me to tie. And you’re not going to make no sound when I move my hand, right darling?”

I nodded, hating myself for how completely helpless I was.

“Good.”

The knife left my throat and a hand grabbed my shoulder, spinning me to face my captor.

Byrgir’s shirt was still caught around my neck, and the man glanced down quickly at my exposed breasts, a hungry smile appearing on his stubbled face.

My stomach turned with the familiar dread of the predatory attention of an unwanted man, and I reached up to yank my shirt down.

The knife was back at my throat with my sudden movement, and my captor roughly pulled me close to him again.

I felt the blade cut into my neck and a warm trickle of blood start to flow down my skin.

“Now now, not so fast, darling. Hands out so I can bind them, and then maybe we’ll have some fun later.”

Fear and adrenaline pulsed within me, my mind raced as I tried to think of something, anything, I could do. If I could heat the dagger he held, I could burn him and make him drop it.

I opened my mouth to speak the incantation just as a blade exploded through the man’s chest, the point of it stopping mere inches from my face. The hot spray of the man’s blood coated my skin, and a second spray followed as the blade twisted, final heartbeats pressurizing severed arteries.

I tasted the iron tang on my tongue. Somehow, I also felt its power. Ancient, deep, and roiling. I could feel an energized tingle where it sat on my tongue, my face, my hands, where it mixed with the power I had just begun to summon.

The blade withdrew and the man dropped. Behind him stood Byrgir, and another man with one arm in a sling was running toward us as the huge black shape of Garmr knocked him from his path.

Both wolves were on him in an instant. Vardir grabbed his broken arm in her fangs and he screamed.

I saw the flash of a long knife as he raised it above her with his good arm, preparing to bury it in her side.

Byrgir struck faster with his bloodied claymore, severing the hand that held the knife at the wrist. Garmr pounced and clamped his jaws around the man’s throat, cutting off his scream.

He writhed beneath the wolves until Byrgir spun his sword and sunk it quickly into the man’s chest. I heard his sternum shatter with the force of it.

A quicker end than the wolves would’ve given him.

“I warned you,” Byrgir murmured, withdrawing the blood-drenched blade.

I staggered back, away from the fallen man at my feet. I dropped to my knees in the soft moss and put my hands to my face. Sticky and warm.

Byrgir was with me in a flash, kneeling on the soft earth in front of me. His strong hands gripped my shoulders.

“Halja, are you alright?” Deep concern coated his voice. He held me at arm’s length and examined me.

“My… my clean shirt,” I choked out. I looked down at my chest. I was soaked in blood.

Byrgir grabbed my chin and pulled it up so that I looked at him. Then both his large hands were on my cheeks, holding my face and trying to wipe it clean with his thumbs.

“Are you hurt?” He saw the cut across my neck and tipped my chin up to inspect it. He swore.

“No, not really. I don’t think it’s that deep,” I answered in a daze.

He pressed a hand around my throat, gentle but firm, to stop the bleeding.

“Is that too tight?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“Did you bait them in?” I asked.

“Halja I–”

“Did you bait them in?” I repeated.

“Yes.” He met my gaze, the regret brimming in his eyes. “I didn’t think they would be here so quickly. I thought the wolves and I would get to them before they could get to you.”

“You could’ve told me. I could’ve been ready.” All the helplessness I’d felt for the last few days, months, my entire life began to well up. Climbing to a high pressure that was about to burst.

“I thought I would beat them to you. I thought I would be faster, and you’d never even know they were there.”

“I’m not useless!” I continued, snapped out of my shock by my building rage. “I could have helped!”

“I don’t think you’re use–”

“Yes, you do!” I cut him off. “I’m so sick of being helpless!

Of nobody telling me the truth. So sick of always being in the dark, being pushed away like some child who has to be protected!

” I pushed Byrgir’s chest and stood, leaving him kneeling in front of me.

My hand went to my neck as the bleeding he had stopped began again.

“I never lied to you,” he countered. “I’ve been telling you the truth.”

“Since when? Everything I thought was true about you was a lie! You could have told me about the Ironguard the morning after Litha. I barely even know you!”

The genuine hurt in his eyes as my thoughtless retort struck home was far deeper than I’d expected.

“And what exactly did you think about me,” he asked, “that was a lie?"

“I thought… I didn’t think you were in the Ironguard,” I said, but I realized I had never known what his job was.

“You never thought to ask, though, did you?” he said.

“I shouldn’t have needed to! How am I supposed to trust you? You and Eilith aren’t even who you said you were.”

“Don’t say that. We never said we were anything other than what we are. We just didn’t tell you until we thought you were ready.”

“Well, am I ready now?” I snapped back.

“At least let me bandage you,” he diverted, his voice calm and steady.

“No! I’m going to rinse off.” I grabbed the shirt I had just removed and stormed away toward the river.

I caught my reflection in a calm eddy downstream of a small gravel beach.

My face was coated in blood, my black eyes shining through it like some visage from a nightmare.

Vardir guarded me from the bank as I pulled off my boots, pants, and underwear before wading in, still wearing my blood-spattered shirt.