Filed to story: A Fate Inked In Blood Free
What if everyone was dead? “They aren’t,” I whispered at my terror. “No one would dare kill them within the confines of Fjalltindr. It’s forbidden.”
I took a step down a path, then light from the Hall of the Gods caught my eye. Dozens of brilliant torches encircled the structure, and as I watched, a shadow passed in front of them.
Moving closer, I eventually made out the face of Tora. If she was here, then Harald surely was as well, and if he’d taken Bjorn, this would be where he had him. Tora stood with her arms crossed in front of the entrance, expression implacable. Though she was unarmed, and presumably her magic as curtailed as my own by the power of this place, she was still twice my size, which meant I would not get past her by force without warning those inside.
Shit.
I circled the building, wishing the revelers would quit laughing and humping and banging on drums so I could bloody well hear, but knowing my people as I did, they’d be at it until dawn.
The only door was the one guarded by Tora, and there were no windows. Stepping over the stream that flowed beneath the building, I paused, because if the water that flowed around the statues inside could exit, that meant there was an opening. Picking my way upstream, I reached the outcropping on which the hall sat. Water trickled down the rock, making soft tinkling sounds.
Feeling for handholds, I climbed, cursing silently as the antlers on my mask scratched against the wood of the hall’s wall. The freezing water numbed my hands, but I barely noticed as I peered through the narrow opening through which the water flowed. Immediately, my eyes went to where Harald stood.
He was speaking but I couldn’t make out his words over the tinkle of water and the noise of the revels. Just as I couldn’t make out the face of the individual he was speaking to, for the person, or persons, were hidden from view by Loki’s statue. I searched the shadows for any sign of Bjorn, Ylva, Snorri, or the rest of our companions, but found nothing. So my eyes drew back to the king.
He was angry, gesticulating and pointing.
Who was he speaking to?
“Did you think there wouldn’t be a cost to this?” I caught some of his words during a lull in the drums and leaned forward. “…he’ll destroy everything you care about if…this is the only way you can be certain Snorri won’t…”
My heart broke into a gallop at Snorri’s name, and I silently shrieked at the revelers to be silent as they broke into song.
“A good mother protects her son…does what it takes to…”
Loud voices from the revels drowned out the rest, but Harald ceased gesticulating, focusing intently on the unseen speaker.
The singing stopped.
“Then that is our plan,” Harald said. “He trusts you. Go-” A loud shriek of laughter drowned out the rest of what Harald said before he turned and left the building, leaving whomever he’d been speaking to in the hall alone.
I needed to see who it was.
There wasn’t space to climb through the hole and into the hall, so I swiftly climbed back down, scuttling around the side of the building. I crouched in the shadows, waiting to see who’d emerge, but the door remained shut. Unease filled my chest, and I crept up to the door, quietly opening it.
Lanterns still burned inside the hall, illuminating the statues, but nothing stirred. Whoever had been in here with Harald was gone.
“Shit,” I snarled, twisting on my heels to scan the shadows, searching for a fleeing figure, but all I saw were people dancing around fires in the distance.
Who was it? Who had been conspiring with Harald?
Was it someone I knew?
A good mother protects her son…Unease filled my chest, and I circled the revels, searching. It couldn’t be her. Couldn’t be…
Indecision froze me in place. Should I hunt for the spy? Continue my search for Bjorn? Attempt to find Snorri to warn him?
A group of revelers staggered past me, one nearly knocking me over, only to shout, “Join us!”
I ignored him as I righted myself, but when I looked up, it was to see a hooded woman walking toward the hall where I was supposed to be sleeping.
Where Bjorn was supposed to be sleeping.
A building protected only by the wards that she had cast, because she’d ensured no guards stood watch. And she’d done so in order to meet with Harald, because she was plotting with him to get rid of Bjorn to make way for Leif to inherit.
Ylva. I was sure of it.
My hands balled into fists as I watched her reach for the door, already relishing the shock that would fill her face when she realized neither Bjorn nor I was inside. When she realized her plan hadn’t worked.
Ylva’s hand closed over the latch, opening the door, but as she moved to cross the threshold it was as though one of the gods themselves had swung a mighty fist, launching her backward. She landed square on her arse, a half dozen paces back from the door.
I almost crowed with delight. Her own wards had worked against her, denying entrance to any who desired to harm our party. Denying her entrance.
My elation was short-lived, as hands closed on my arms, yanking me back into the trees.
I wrenched free from my attacker, swinging my fist toward the shadowy face, only to pull up short as I recognized Bjorn in the dark.
“What are you doing out here, Freya?” he hissed. “Anyone could take you.”
Relief flooded my veins, though it was replaced by irritation. “Where did you go?”
“There was someone I needed to speak to,” he said. “When I returned to the hall, you were gone. I’ve been hunting for you. Where have you been?”