Warrior, page 15
“Dead,” I said flatly, no emotion attached. “Yours?”
“My father died when I was seven,” he recounted without inflection. “A sword to the chest, on one of the summer raids. My mother still lives. She is with my uncle now.”
I nodded silently, watching from the corner of my eye.
This wasn’t so uncommon: that the widow of man would take vows with his brother, consolidating the same house. It wasn’t unusual, though it was hard on the children left behind.
What struck me more, was his story of the raids—a sword to the chest. Ours was a hard people, we’d learned to live with death. But it had to come as a shock. A common raid, against unarmed villagers. Like one of the Riders, being thrown from their horse.
“Have you any brothers or sisters?” I asked, remembering the way he was with the children.
He shook his head briskly. “It’s only me. She has borne no other heirs.” A wry smile twisted his lips, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Though he’s always trying.”
My body stiffened with tension, but he was already striding forward up the garden path, frowning in the shadows at the warped planks of wood in the entryway.
“What’s wrong with the door?” he asked.
“It swells each year in the summer sun,” I answered with a flush of embarrassment. “I was going to shave it back to size, but then came the festival. I’ll leave it for afterwards, I suppose.”
He threw me a look, then unclasped his cloak. “I could do it now.”
“No, that’s really—”
But he was already sliding the cloak off his shoulders, tossing it into the grass as he glanced around for something he could use to whittle the frame. “What do you normally use? Is there a stone that’s best? Or a—”
I pointed to his sword. “Just use that.”
He blanked, like I’d spoken some different language.
“What?” he finally asked. “My sword?”
“Yes, your sword.” I laughed at his expression. “What else could I mean? I don’t wish you to trouble yourself at all. But if you’re determined, the blade is much sharper—”
“And it will stay that way,” he said defensively, gripping the hilt like I might try to tear it from his hands. “Use my sword...? I cannot believe you would ask me that.”
I shrugged, feeling these things less than him. “I cannot believe you wouldn’t do it.”
After giving me another memorable look, he glanced around the yard for anything he might use instead; coming up as he’d imagined, with a large stone that was blunted on the side. I watched with pursed lips as he brought it to the frame and scraped determinedly upwards. Just a few wispy shards fluttered to the ground at his feet. He looked down at them, then lifted his gaze to me.
“This is much harder than I thought,” he confessed.
It took everything I had, to keep from laughing. “Yes, it is.”
For the next little while, I idled around the garden while he worked—accomplishing in a few minutes what it would have taken me hours to complete myself. It was back-breaking work, and it wasn’t long before he was panting. Twice, his eyes flickered to his sword. He never reached for it.
“There,” he said when he was finished, swinging it back and forth, “perfect.”
I came up beside him, nodding approvingly.
“That will do nicely,” I replied, flashing him a quick smile. “Until next summer comes, and I’ll need to do it again. Perhaps I can send a raven, now that we’ve found your true skill.”
He chuckled to himself, tossing the rock into the garden and picking up his cloak. It draped loosely over his shoulders, as he lifted his eyes again to the door. There was a totem there, he’d been studying as he worked. A fist-sized circle that was mounted to the wall, made of claws and stone.
“That looks fine,” he said politely, throwing me a look. “What is it?”
I followed his gaze, so used to the sight, it no longer made an impression. It was a replica of the same necklace I was wearing, just a little smaller. I wondered if he’d noticed that as well.
“Claws and stone,” I recited without hesitation. “The earth and all its beasts.” His gaze swung to me, still curious. “It’s for protection, meant to keep one safe as they travel.”
In hindsight, there was a chance I shouldn’t have told him. It was the kind of thing that people like me should have sense to keep to themselves. I was struck with the thought almost immediately, stilling like a rabbit, but there was only sweetness on his face. His eyes crinkled and his lips curved in a smile, as if he found the entire notion provincial and quaint.
“Have you ever needed it?” he asked quietly, turning to face me.
I flushed and shook my head, turning as well.
“I’ve never gone anywhere,” I admitted. “Never traveled beyond the valley.”
He stared down intently, those impossible eyes probing the depths of mine. For a split second, I thought that was the end of it. Then he leaned a little closer, voice falling to a whisper. “Would you like to?”
It seemed I was wrong about him. He wasn’t shy.
He was just out of practice.
The two of us leaned together, so slight, I might have imagined it. His head bent gently towards me as I stretched on the tips of my toes. Our lips were almost touching, my eyes were fluttering shut, when out of nowhere, a deafening cry shattered the stillness.
By the hells!
I jerked away with a gasp as he grabbed for the hilt of his sword—pulse racing. Before there was time to wonder what had happened, the sound came again. A ferocious squawk that seemed to carry all the way to the heavens. There was a great flapping of wings, as a hawk split the air between us, settling with a glare above the doorway, its bright talons digging into the talisman below.
For a moment, we both stared dumbly, unable to believe what had happened. Then he cocked his head towards the totem, trying very hard not to laugh.
“I don’t think it works,” he whispered.
I stepped back shakily, thinking the opposite.
Perhaps it works a little too well.
* * *
Erik left not long after, wandering back over the hills the way we’d come. I’d thought, for a moment that he might try again to kiss me, but I think we both realized the moment had passed. It was no matter, we’d made plans to see each other again the next morning. I was still smiling about it when I walked inside and lit a candle—only to see someone had been waiting in the dark.
“Holy hades, Trina!” I gasped, clutching at my chest. “I thought you were still at the settlement. What in the world are you doing sitting in here alone?”
I realized with a flush that we’d been standing in the garden for quite some time. He’d swung the door back and forth after fixing it. And then, of course, there was the...
...hawk.
That was an easier word. I’d stick with that.
“I thought I’d wait up for you,” she answered coolly, never rising from her chair. “Since it turns out you went and watched the fight anyway. Then lo and behold, what do I discover,” she continued, eyes flashing, “you brought the same fight right back to our house.”
I drew in a breath, standing with my back to the door.
Despite our playful bickering, it wasn’t often the two of us were at odds. I could count on a single hand the number of times it had happened. I tried to steady myself, still reeling in shock.
“He isn’t a fight, he is a person,” I muttered, surprised by how much bitterness there was in my voice. “One who bought me sweets, and fixed a problem with our house. And I can go where I like, Trina,” I added hotly, not realizing how angry I’d become until it all started spilling out. “Just because you wish to avoid the festival, doesn’t mean I must do it myself.”
She nodded without expression, looking carved from winter stone. “So that’s what this is?” she asked flatly. “You bring one of the king’s bannermen to our home and show him an ancient talisman, all because you want to have a little festival fun?”
“He had no idea what that was,” I countered swiftly, “and he didn’t mind it. We work each day without rest, Trina. What’s the problem with having a bit of fun?”
“The problem—” She slammed a hand on the table, rattling the candle. We watched it teeter precariously, before settling into place. “Your mother had a blissful summer once.” She jabbed a finger to the window. “She ended up in that same river. Have you forgotten that, Liv? Have you? You let these people get close, you end up with a chain around your ankle and water above your head.”
I was breathing quickly, yet felt unable to draw in a breath.
These people.
“Are you saying my father was a soldier—”
“I’m not saying that,” she snapped, “I’m not saying that at all! Do not bait me into a talk about your father, Livy. I raised you to have more sense than this!”
“You didn’t raise me at all,” I countered with a vicious cry, “Karmen did. She also raised me to be open to things, to be open to people. She was a woman who took chances, and thank the gods for that, otherwise there’s a very good chance I’d be dead somewhere in those hills!”
The words had tumbled hot and fast between us—like the torrent of an angry river, one that had escaped its banks and could no longer be coaxed into shape. It was more than I had intended. It was more than she intended. But while she kept her face neutral, mine was crumpled in guilt.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t...” I trailed off with a sigh, so utterly weary of apologizing. For anything, for everything. For things I wanted and was told repeatedly I’d never have. “I watched him fight because...because I watched him,” I finished helplessly. “Because it’s a day in the arena, and he’s to be leaving soon. What’s the harm in it? I know how to be safe. I know because you taught me.”
I waited for an answer, but she was silent. The entire house was ringing with it, like the heavy stillness that followed a thunderclap.
“It’s not like there are sparks flying from my fingers,” I added under my breath, cheeks flushing for no reason I could name. “It’s been weeks since I’ve even practiced—”
She held up a hand, like the devil might come.
“Don’t say those words in this house,” she muttered, but there was no fight in it. The fight was over now. We’d just landed on different sides.
With a tired sigh, she pushed to her feet, taking the candle with her. There was a weariness to her that I rarely saw, one that aged her and stretched the shadows as she turned to me once again.
“Karmen taught you to be open, that much is true. But that’s not how Karmen would have finished the sentence. Be open to all life’s adventures, Liv...to the extent it doesn’t get you killed.”
Chapter 13
I woke the next morning, feeling like there was ash in my throat.
It was the same feeling one got when they’d stayed too long beside the fire. The warmth had faded, just the detritus remained. To linger was only harmful. It was time to move on.
I didn’t pretend for a moment it wasn’t Trina’s words that had done it. The problem was, I could neither pretend those words were in the slightest bit wrong. In a way, I was sick not with the scrape of our argument, but with the loss of the glow I’d felt before. Even if she hadn’t spoken out, there was a good chance it would have soured on its own. Careless laughter, dreamy smiles? While others sought them out, I’d learned to find nothing but fear in those feelings, eyeing them from afar with an abstract feeling of dread. They couldn’t last, they couldn’t be trusted. And there were a good many other things to be, than simply happy. I had known this once, for certain. Was a night under the stars enough to make me forget? I might not be dreamy, but I could be content. And safe.
Now came the hard part: I needed to tell Erik.
With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I pulled on my usual clothes and headed towards the settlement—leaving the necklace of claw and bones on the table behind me. I hadn’t seen Trina, but I got the feeling she would avoid me until she determined the best thing to say. At that point, I would cheerlessly inform her I’d severed all communication. She would give me a one-armed hug, a tight, sad smile, then we would continue on with our lives just as we had in the days before.
It was only a few days until the end of the celebration, and the settlement was busier than any time I’d ever seen. The air itself seemed in revolt—loud with the scream of hemmed chickens and baying donkeys. Several fights had broken out along the merchant’s corridor—arguments over the position of stalls, or whether someone had taken an item from another’s booth. The tournament was winding down, and they were all feeling the need to unload the goods they’d brought with them.
The king might not have another birthday. Even if he did, they’d have to wait another year.
Why didn’t we set a place to meet?
It wasn’t until I reached the main courtyard, I realized the obvious problem. Short of finding him in the feasting hall—not the best place to sever communication—I had even less of an idea how to find the handsome Viking, than what I was going to say to him once I did. I’d rehearsed several things on the walk over, but all of them fell short. Standing there now, alone and in the center of the courtyard, I realized that second problem rather paled in comparison to my first.
Maybe he’s already eating?
In a quick burst of speed, lest I be conscripted by the kitchen mistress, I stuck my head into the chamber, then pulled it out just as fast. They were still laying the tables, and none of the lords were there yet. I could try to find his lodgings, but not only would that cross several major boundaries, it was highly unlikely I’d be allowed inside even once I had.
In the end, with nothing better to do, I wandered around the perimeter fence, until I came again to the stables. The scent of hay and the soft nicker of horses was like a balm, and without pausing to think about what I was doing, I pushed open the wooden door and slipped inside.
It was dark amidst the stalls. Dark enough that I had to blink several times before my eyes had adjusted. The grooms were still asleep, or driving the early mounts to grazing, so I wandered along the tiny corridors, pausing every now and then to offer my hand with a smile. It wasn’t until I’d nearly reached the end of the row, I heard a pair of voices talking.
My heart leapt in surprise, and simultaneously sank to the floor.
It’s him.
At that point, I was so out of sorts, I might well have simply burst into the open and made some mortifying speech, if I hadn’t picked up on the tone of the conversation. There was an edge to it that gave me chills—causing me to duck into the concealment of an empty stall.
“—I am listening to what you’re saying,” Erik said with a hint of frustration. “I simply don’t understand—”
“You don’t understand, because you choose not to hear it.” His uncle stepped into view, lined by the slats in the wooden stall. “If you were truly listening, you will say it back.”
There was a pause in which I could hear them both breathing.
“You want me to lose the match,” Erik replied tersely, as if the words themselves couldn’t hold shape in his mouth. “Before the gods and man, why would I do such a thing?”
“Krystof is a great lord, with lands twice the size of mine.”
Perhaps it was clear from my stricken angle, or perhaps Steffen was merely too incensed to notice, but there was something about the way he said mine that sparked something in the boy. It was nothing obvious, just a slight tightening, a hardening. As if the word itself wasn’t right.
As if he should have chosen another.
“In the spring, I plan to renegotiate our trade,” Steffen concluded, “increase the tribute from those traveling across the river. I will not have you humiliating his son.”
Erik stared a moment, then nodded. “I will not humiliate him.”
“I am not asking—”
“It will be an honest match. And whosoever the gods choose to favor—”
“You will lose, Erik.”
There was a pause.
“I will withdraw my name. I will not fight him.”
“You will fight him,” Steffen commanded, raising his voice, “and you will lose. This goes beyond childish festival games, there is actual business at stake. I am finished discussing this.”
I recoiled in disgust, half-terrified of being seen.
You are the worst kind of snake.
“And what of my honor?” Erik cried, trying to keep hold of his temper. “I stand to inherit, just as he stands to inherit from his own father. You would have me lose—”
There was a mighty slap, and his face jerked to the side.
I covered my mouth with a silent gasp, staring at his profile. Strands of ivory hair fanned across his face, as his teeth clenched themselves together. His eyes stayed open the whole time.
“I said,” Steffen hissed, “I am finished discussing this.”
Without a backwards glance, he swept right past me and out of the stable, pausing only at the entrance to relay a final command.
“Erik...don’t ever compare me to your father.”
The boy lifted his head, eyes shining with emotion. “I wasn’t—”
“I am not your father.”
The man walked away then, leaving the door open behind him. He never stopped to see the look on the young man’s face. He was gone too fast to hear the quiet words the echoed in his wake.
“I wasn’t,” Erik repeated softly, staring after him. “I would never compare you to my father.”
* * *
I cannot tell him now.
This was the thought that gripped me, as I hurried back to the settlement—feeling ashamed to have accidentally overheard the conversation, and utterly mortified by what I had seen. It wasn’t that Steffen had struck him, it was that Erik had been expecting it. I’d seen his face when it flung towards me in profile. There was nothing in him that was surprise.
I cannot tell him, after such a thing. I’ll need to wait.
But wait for what? It was only a few days more, that he’d been in the settlement. After that, he and all the others would be leaving. I didn’t know quite what he’d meant when he’d asked me if I wanted to travel, but I knew enough of the world to be certain his mere wishes wouldn’t be enough.
