Filed to story: A Fate Inked In Blood Free
But when Skade reached the tree line on the far side of the clearing, she paused, her voice loud and clear as she said, “Only a cowardly bitch betrays her child.” A glowing bow of gold appeared in her hand as she turned, along with an arrow, green from fletching to tip. Before I could move, before I could call to Hlin to protect me, so I could protect my mother, the arrow was loosed.
It flew through the air, punching through my mother’s heart.
Bjorn clamped a hand over my mouth to silence my scream as she dropped slowly to the ground, the arrow disappearing from her chest.
“Return to the drakkar,” Skade ordered, and she and her men disappeared over the rise, footfalls fading and leaving behind only the wind in the trees and my muffled sobs.
“They’re gone,” Bjorn said, and I pulled from his arms. Abandoning shield and sword, I raced to my mother. My foot caught on a rock, and I tripped, sprawling on the ground. Sobbing, I crawled onward, reaching her.
She was still breathing.
Gasping, I pressed my hands to the wound in her chest, bending over her. My mother’s eyes latched onto me. “Freya?”
“I’m here.” Blood flowed around my fingers, soaked the front of her new dress, her cane lying next to her in the grass. “I’m so sorry. That this happened. For the things I said.”
But the light was fading from her eyes, her chest stilling beneath my hands. “No!” I screamed. “This wasn’t supposed to happen!”
Bjorn was behind me then, pulling me into his arms. “I’m sorry, Freya,” he said, and I buried my face in his neck, the force of my sobs making my body ache.
“The things I said to her.” I sucked in a mouthful of air, trying to get enough breath. “I didn’t mean them. I didn’t. She died thinking that I didn’t love her.”
“To nearly her dying breath, she betrayed her own daughter,” he said. “She earned her fate.”
“Just because she was a coward doesn’t mean she deserved to be murdered!” My fingers dug into his arms, hard enough that it would leave marks, but I didn’t care. “I brought this fate upon her. I chose to come here. My decisions led to her death. Everything I do, it always means death.”
“This is why you need to go,” he said, breath warm against my ear. “Not because you are a bringer of death but because those who are seek to use you to achieve their ends.”
Like Ylva.
“I’m going to kill her,” I hissed, my grief turning to rage. “I’m going to fucking kill that traitorous bitch.”
“You have no proof it was Ylva.”
“My proof is that it could be no one else! Ylva was at Fjalltindr. She witnessed Snorri declaring his intention to take Grindill. Has the skills to use rune magic. Was the only one who knew where we were going.”
“None of which is proof! If you kill her on speculation and hearsay, my father will punish you,” Bjorn retorted. “Regardless of what she did or did not do, killing Ylva changes nothing. What you need to do is run, Freya. To get yourself out of this mess before you lose any more of yourself!”
“And lose the chance to avenge my mother?” I pulled away from him. “Not just on Ylva, but on Skade? On Harald himself? You more than anyone should understand that the need for vengeance is worth any sacrifice.”
“It’s different.” He caught hold of my arms again. “I know exactly who came into my mother’s cabin that night with murder in his heart. Saw it with my own eyes. And still, I will give it up for your sake.”
He’s not going to let you go back, my rage whispered. He’s going to deny you your vengeance.
“Just as I know exactly who knew we were coming here.” I stared into his green eyes, and he recoiled at whatever he saw in mine. “It can be no one but Ylva. Why won’t you believe me? Why are you protecting her?”
“I’m protecting you!” His fingers tightened. “I’m not letting you do this. Not while you’re consumed by this…this rage. You need to be yourself to make this decision.”
“I am myself.”
“Your eyes are red again! Your rage is controlling you!”
You’re going to have to elude him, the voice whispered. Be clever.
“Fine,” I said. “Let us see to my mother and when I’ve calmed down to your satisfaction, I’ll prove to you my choice is the same.”
There was unease in Bjorn’s expression, but he nodded. On my directions, he carried my mother’s body inside the home my father had built and put her on the bed where my life’s story had begun, then muttered, “I’ll retrieve the horses.”
I stared at my mother’s body. There were things that needed to be said. Words that needed to be spoken from deep in my heart, but my fury refused to allow them to my lips. Everything seemed tinged with red, a pulse throbbing in my temples that whispered only vengeance. My focus sharpened as I heard hooves against the ground when Bjorn returned, and I abandoned the home to go outside.
Taking my mare’s reins from him, I said, “Please burn it.”
Bjorn didn’t answer, only handed the reins of his own horse to me before muttering Tyr’s name, his axe blazing bright. My mare recoiled, and I allowed the animal to draw me back several paces, Bjorn’s horse following.
You’ll need to be quick.
My heart pounded, sweat slicking my palms as I fastened my shield to my saddle and flipped the reins over my horse’s head. Bjorn cast a glance at me, and I nodded, waiting until he pressed his axe to the side of the house, the wood instantly blackening.
I flung myself into the saddle and dug in my heels.
Bjorn’s gelding snorted as I hauled on its reins, dragging it along with me.
“Freya!”