Joseph Lewis - Freya the Huntress

“You have six months,” the new king continued. “When autumn comes, if any man should find you still in Ysland, he shall be within his rights to strike you dead where you stand. And you, Thora Ingasdottir, for keeping Skadi’s secrets and knowingly, willfully aiding her in her schemes to seduce the king, to seize the throne, and to lead Rekavik into ruin, you are also banished from Ysland.”

The tall girl said nothing. She stared down at Halfdan’s feet with haunted, miserable eyes. But then she slowly lifted her gaze and turned to look at Freya, and Freya saw the cold hatred in the apprentice’s face as the tears tumbled from her unblinking eyes.

Halfdan grunted. “It’s only three hundred leagues or so to Alba. If you start swimming now, you may reach it before your six months are up. Guards, throw them out.”

The guards took the exiles out of the room, and the crowd of onlookers at the back all seemed to relax and exhale and stand a bit easier.

“Finally.” Halfdan sat back down on his throne, which creaked, and he winced. “Omar Bakhoum.”

Omar stepped out in front of the throne and turned to face the king.

“You came to this country as a friend, and you were treated poorly. Yslanders pride themselves on their hospitality, and you were most grievously wronged by Skadi and Leif. But despite that, you returned to us, you killed the demon Fenrir…” He trailed off with a frown.

Freya understood. They had told him earlier that morning, after he received his royal torque and sword, that Fenrir had been his cousin Ivar.

“You defeated our enemies and cured the plague,” Halfdan said. “For this, our entire country is in your debt, and anything you ask will be yours.”

Omar smiled brightly. “Well, that is most kind, my lord. I can see you will be every bit the king that your wise cousin was before you. But as for me, I’m merely pleased that I was able to right the wrongs that I helped to create, and all I ask now is for some small help in constructing a ship to carry me home south. A small sailing ship should suffice, an elegant xebec, perhaps. I can sketch something up later.”

“But we have no wood for making ships,” Halfdan said.

“That’s no problem, my lord. We’ll make it of steel. I’ll teach you how. And after I’m gone, well, if the Yslanders wish to take to the seas once more on ships of steel, well, that would be a very fine day, wouldn’t it?”

A happy murmur ran through the crowd behind him.

“Then you will have everything you need and every comfort as long as you are with us,” Halfdan said. “And the last bit of business to deal with, before I can get off this damned chair, is the small matter of our new vala.” He turned to the young ladies in black. “Is there anyone interested in holding this important position and fulfilling its sacred duties for us here in Rekavik?”

Wren and Katja exchanged smiles and nods, and Katja stepped forward. “I would be honored to serve you, King Halfdan.”

The king nodded. “And I’m honored to have your wise council. And what of our other little wise woman?” He smiled at Wren.

She smiled back nervously. “Actually, I’m far from being ready to serve anyone as a vala. I only know a few things, and I only have these eight unhelpful old ladies to guide me.” She held up her hand wearing the rinegold ring of Denveller. “So I think I’d rather continue as an apprentice. For now.”

“Ah, under our esteemed Lady Katja?”

“Well, no, actually.” Wren looked across the room. “Under Master Omar, if that’s all right. He seems to know more about the spirit world than anyone else alive. I can’t imagine a better teacher.”

All eyes turned to the southerner, and he rolled his eyes. “Oh very well, little one, but don’t expect to learn much from me. I’m sure I don’t know anything interesting.”

Everyone laughed.

Halfdan stood up from his wooden throne. “Freya Nordasdottir, please come here.”

Her heart pattered just a bit faster at the unexpected summons, and she felt momentarily nervous and even guilty, wondering why she was being called to answer to the king. But the girlish feeling vanished as quickly as it came and she stood in front of the bearded man. “Yes?”

A sad and weary look filled his eyes as he looked down at her. “Ask. Ask me for anything. Nothing in Ysland could reward your courage, or restore what you’ve lost, but ask anyway, so I can give you something.” He stepped down off the dais of his throne and stood in front of her, looking so much like her father that she almost wanted to hug him to make him stop looking so miserable.

“I don’t need or want anything,” she said. “Although, you’ve taken my sister as your vala, and Omar has taken my little friend as well.” She jerked her head toward Wren beside her. “So I suppose I’d just like to stay here. Maybe your seal-hunters and I could learn a thing or two from each other.”

“Done,” Halfdan said with a weary grin. “And more besides. Feasts and silvers and furs and whatever else I can heap on you, will be heaped on you.”

Freya managed a tired smile of her own, and nodded. “I suppose there are worse fates than that.”

The iron door of Rekavik slammed shut behind them. Thora glanced back once at the high south wall, at the lone guard at the top who was staring back down at her. And she set out.

“Where the devil do you think you’re going?” Leif asked as he started after her. “There’s nothing around her for leagues. Everyone’s dead or missing. The only people around here are in the city. We’ll never find any food out here, not in the middle of winter.”

Thora marched on. She headed west and stayed within sight of the sea, not straying south toward the snowy hills.

Leif followed, his entire gait a bit off balance for the lack of his arm. “You could have defended yourself, you know. You could have argued with Halfdan. He didn’t have any real charges against you, no evidence. You could have stayed if you really wanted to,” he said.

“I didn’t want to,” she said. “I don’t want to be here anymore, so there was no point in arguing.”

“No point?” He jogged up beside her. “Well, where the hell do you want to be? And don’t tell me you’re so in love with me that you just couldn’t stand to be apart, that you just had to follow me into exile, because I couldn’t stomach the sentiment.”

“I don’t love you, Leif, I never did,” she said quietly. “And I’m not following you into exile. You’re following me.”

The youth swept his long black hair back from his face. “And where exactly are we going? I don’t suppose you know of some mystic troll tunnel that will take us to Alba?”

“No. But I do know where we can find a boat that will take us to Alba.”

“What? Where? I thought all the old longships had rotted away or been burned as firewood.”

“They were. This isn’t a longship. It’s the steel ship that Riuza was building when she was supposed to be building the drill. Skadi kept the ship. She hid it.”

“Skadi kept the ship?” Leif grinned. “Clever old cow. She never told me about it.”

“There were lots of things she and I never told you about.” Thora paused on a bare flat rock and looked back at the distant walls of Rekavik. “I was the person that Omar saw meeting with Magnus two nights ago.”

Leif’s eyes flew wide and he lunged at her, his hand reaching for her throat. “You miserable bitch!”

She stepped aside and shoved his limbless shoulder, sending him stumbling through the snow. From inside her sleeve she drew a long, thin dagger of white bone. “I loved Magnus. I still love Magnus. He was strong and kind and beautiful, and he loved me. And when I heard that Fenrir had killed him, I wanted to kill myself. Of course, I learned soon enough that you were the one who led my prince out there to be slaughtered so Skadi could take the throne unchallenged.”