Joseph Lewis - Freya the Huntress

“You made more nests? With more bloodflies?” Freya grabbed his arm. “How many?”

Omar glanced up at the sky and the sunlight glanced off his blue glasses. “I believe I made thirty-one nests, and they will probably all have between one and two hundred vaccine-laden flies when they hatch. Most of them are inside the city walls, but I left a few outside in the hills as well, just in case any reavers wander too close to the city.”

“But that’s… that’s thousands of flies!” Freya smiled and threw her arms around him. “In just a few hours, everyone in the city will be safe from the reavers’ venom, and in a few days or weeks, all the reavers will be cured, too!”

Omar held up his hands. “Let’s not be hasty. As I said, I had no chance to test the flies on people or on reavers. I have no idea what exactly will happen, or when.”

“But what about me and Leif? We were battered and exhausted when the flies bit us, and within a few moments we were both as healthy as mountain goats. After watching his leg heal, I wouldn’t be surprised if Leif’s arm grew back!”

Omar snorted. “Let’s hope not. He’s dangerous enough with just the one. Although, growing a new arm would be extremely painful for him, and I would enjoy that a great deal.”

“Right, you mentioned that you grew an arm back once.” Freya paused, unsure of what else to say. She didn’t have much experience with lost limbs, except for the time when she watched Katja remove a man’s shattered finger that had become infected, and that hadn’t seemed very dramatic to anyone at the time. “You said you lost it when the skyship crashed-Nine hells, I forgot!” Freya’s eyes went wide. “The woman in the cellar, the pilot from your skyship, she’s in the cellar!”

“Wait, who’s in the-Riuza!” Omar grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the front of the castle. “Take me to her, now!”

They dashed through the dining hall and down the corridor, and stumbled down into the dark cellar. Freya was about to lead the way across the room, groping through the blackness, when a blinding white light filled the chamber, illuminating the sacks of potatoes, the salted seal meat, the blueberry preserves, and endless other bags and jars and piles of stored food. Omar held his bright blade over his head as he scanned the room, and then he charged past Freya to the far wall where he planted his sword in the dirt floor and wrapped his arms gingerly around the emaciated woman folded up in the corner.

Freya came to stand just behind him. “I’m sorry. I just found out about her yesterday. Wren found her. Skadi put her here for stealing parts from the drill and trying to build a ship out of metal.”

Omar ignored her as he gently rocked the frail woman in his arms and whispered quietly into her hair.

Freya looked away, feeling awkward and useless and guilty for not telling him sooner, as soon as they were alone, but it had been the furthest thing from her mind. And even now as she watched him comfort the broken remains of his friend, her only thoughts were for Wren, Katja, and Erik.

Omar looked up at her abruptly with a confused and miserable look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Freya said. “I should have remembered sooner.”

“No, no, fair lady,” he said softly. “You didn’t do anything wrong here. Not you. It’s just that it doesn’t make any sense. Riuza did steal the parts to build her boat, but when she was caught the king simply removed her from the project and made me the foreman in her place. She wasn’t imprisoned, she wasn’t even punished. She and I went on living in our own house not far from the castle. Skadi must have put her here after the disaster at the drill site.”

“I’m sorry, but is she your wife?”

A strange smile flickered across his face. “Not my wife, no, not nearly. But when you find yourself stranded at the end of the world where your language and your clothes and even your skin mark you as an outsider, then your closest friend may well be the one person who understands where you came from, even if you’re not particularly good friends. Riuza and I were, well yes, we were friends, eventually. Political allies, when necessary. And lovers, when drunk.” He smiled a bit more. “Just a few times.”

Freya nodded, knowing that she only partly understood what sort of lives these people had led before she found them. “Is there anything we can do for her?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. She’s very weak.” In an instant all of the memories and sorrows in Omar’s eyes were gone, replaced by his usual clear-eyed certainty. He took up his sword and sliced through the chain on Riuza’s ankle as though the iron was as soft as moldy cheese, and then he sheathed the blade and picked up the woman in utter darkness.

They made their way back to the stairs and then back to Freya’s room where they gently laid Riuza on the bedding and tried to make her comfortable. The southern woman lay on her side, staring at the wall with glassy eyes, her cracked lips whispering silent words in a language Freya didn’t understand.

“She kept saying the word Morayo. Wren thought it was someone’s name. Does that mean anything to you?” Freya asked.

Omar seemed lost in thought for a moment, and then he snapped his fingers and nodded sadly. “Morayo! Yes, I remember her now. Morayo was the engineer on Riuza’s airship. She was a very charming young lady. Very clever. I liked her very much, but there was more to her than met the eye. She caused the crash, you know. Died in it too, poor girl. If it hadn’t been for her, we never would have been stranded here, and Riuza, well, she would be at home right now, wouldn’t she?”

“Oh. I’m so sorry, for both of you. I had no idea. Maybe I should go find Wren. She knows about herbs and things. She might be able to help her.” Freya barely reached the doorway before Halfdan appeared before her.

The captain of the guard said, “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you. I have news about your friend.”

“Wren? You found her? Where is she?” Freya asked.

“One of my men on the western seawall says he saw her walk off a few hours before sunrise. He says he didn’t stop her because he figured only a fool would go out there alone without a good reason, so she must have had a good reason, so he let her go.” Halfdan shook his head. “She left on foot, heading south.”

Freya blinked. “She left? By herself?”

Slowly, Freya turned back to look at Omar and Riuza.

She must have left during the feast. The changes must have scared her. She must have wanted to get away before they got any worse. Or… or maybe she really wanted to go alone. Maybe she didn’t trust me to help her.

Hell, the last thing I told her was that I was prepared to kill my own sister because of the plague. Wren must have thought that I would also… Oh, Wren!

“I have to go. I have to find her.” Freya pulled her heavy leather coat over her shoulders. The coat rustled and flapped over her shirt and arms louder than she had ever heard it before, as though the material was as large as a sail flapping in the sea wind right inside her ear. She looked at Halfdan. “I need you to help Omar, and his friend here. Whatever you’ve been told about him, whatever you think you’ve seen, you need to forget. Just trust me when I say that they are our friends, and we need to protect them for the safety of Rekavik.”

The warrior frowned at the southerners on the bed, but he sighed and nodded. “If they keep quiet, they’ll be safe enough for a while. No one seems to care much about our dead friend’s sudden return. Skadi has everyone thinking he was just hiding all this time, running from hole to hole to save his skin all these years, going mad with fear. It’s enough to make them pity him, but not enough for any to think him much of a hero. I suppose that’s all right.”