bit ago and found Skadi dead. Killed. Her head sliced open.”
Freya stared at him. “Sliced open?”
“Aye, brains and pus all over the floor. I’ve never seen anything like it. Well, not with a woman, anyway.” Halfdan shrugged. “And then the lads caught Leif and Thora trying to slip out one of the eastern doors. Looks like the boy killed the queen to make off with the girl.”
“I told you, Omar killed the queen! And I wasn’t trying to slip out!” The shout came from around the corner, and Freya took a few steps to the side to see Leif sitting shackled in the snow against the side of the castle. His one hand was bound to his ankle.
“Omar spent the whole day out talking to the people bitten by the flies. Everyone saw him,” Halfdan shouted. “And you have a lot more to gain by killing the queen than him. Everyone knows about you and Thora.”
“Then everyone is a damn idiot! That cow hasn’t let me ride her once!” With a quick roll and a little tottering, the young warrior got to his feet and hobbled forward, bent over to hold his hand near his foot, but when he approached the brazier he straightened up, standing on one leg so he could raise his arm and back properly. “I was at the wall checking our defenses. The reavers attacked us last night, if you recall, and we were barely ready for them, barely able to keep them out. And now we have swarms of bloodflies in the city and every man is hiding his damn ears like a scolded child instead of seeing to his duties.”
“So what if they do?” Freya asked. “Do you have some reason to think the reavers will attack again tonight?”
Leif licked his lips. “I don’t know.”
“Oh yes, he does.” This voice came from the main door of the castle, which opened sharply, thrusting back the snow on the ground. Out stepped Omar in his finely tailored coat and blue sunglasses, with his hand resting lightly on his sword. “He knows they’re going to attack again, just as he knew they would attack yesterday, didn’t you?” Omar slapped the youth in the back of the head, sending him sprawling into the snow.
The guards chuckled.
Halfdan hauled Leif back up to his feet and looked at the southerner. “What are you talking about?”
“While I was busy up at the drill site working on the cure for the plague, I saw a man on the footpath at the base of the mountain along the edge of the bay. A man with long dark hair. He was there to meet with someone very tall and very hairy. They spoke to each other.”
“He’s in league with the reavers?” Halfdan shook the one-armed youth. “Impossible! Those beasts can’t talk or reason.”
“Obviously one of them can,” Omar said. “I saw them meet. They stood together and talked for a moment, and then they both turned and walked away.”
“Then it couldn’t have been a reaver,” said one of the guards.
“Impossible,” muttered another.
“We’ll see soon enough,” Omar said. “Because if I’m right, then sometime tonight-”
A bell began to ring off to the east. And then a second one began to ring as well.
“You see, my friends?” Omar ran his hand back through his wavy black hair. “They’re here.”
Chapter 29. Slaughter
Freya led Erik and Wren at a dead run into the castle and down the hall of sleeping chambers where she rapidly ducked her head in and out of the curtains, looking in each one as she went.
“Here!” She dragged Erik inside a room that appeared to belong to one of the older guards, and she grabbed a shirt and trousers from the clothesline strung across the low ceiling. As he put the clothes on, she pulled her long leather coat back on and checked her bone knives. “I have to get out there and help. Wren, I want you to stay here and keep an eye on Erik to make sure he’s fully-”
Her husband bolted to his feet and signed, “I’m more than ready to fight!”
“All right then.” Freya nodded. “Wren, I still want you to stay here. This is the safest place in the city, in case the reavers come over the walls.”
“I can live with that,” the young vala said.
“Good, I-” Freya froze.
There was a young woman standing in the doorway, holding the curtain open with one hand and clutching a blanket around her otherwise naked body with the other hand. Reddish fox ears stood tall in her light brown hair. She whispered, “I heard voices. I thought…”
Freya flew across the room and wrapped her arms around her sister. “Katja! Katja, you’re back, you’re better, thank the gods!”
The two women fell to their knees, laughing and crying as Wren and Erik hovered over them smiling.
“I woke up in the dark, in this cell, and a man with brown skin opened the door and brought me inside here, and put me in bed, and I think I ate some fish soup, and I think I spit up some of the soup,” Katja rambled. “I’ve been so hungry and so tired. Where are we?”
Freya grinned. “I’d love to tell you everything, but Erik and I have to go fight some monsters right now. But this is Wren. She’s the vala of Denveller, and a very good talker, and she’ll tell you everything that’s happened in the last few days.”
“Days?” Katja stared.
Freya kissed her on top of the head right between her furry ears. “Days.” She started to stand up, but then dropped back down and squeezed her sister in another rib-cracking embrace. “I’m so happy to see you again. You have no idea. I…”
“You cut your hair,” Katja said, frowning.
Freya laughed again and kissed her sister’s head again. “Wren will tell you everything. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
She hurried into the corridor and ran back to the dining hall where she and Erik found three house carls belting on their swords and cinching up their old, dented armor. The seawalls bells were still ringing, and men were shouting outside. In the cloak room the two hunters grabbed their spears and then they ran out to find a light snow falling, the wind rising, and the stars just beginning to shine in the young night sky.
Erik took her hand. “Are you sure you’re all right to fight?”
She smiled. “Are you kidding? All four of us are alive and healthy, the plague has been cured, and Skadi is dead. I feel like I could defend the entire city by myself!”
Across the courtyard she saw Leif sitting in the dirty snow, his hand still bound to his foot. The youth glared at them. “Let me go! Let me fight, damn you! You need me! I’m the best sword in Rekavik!”
Freya and Erik said nothing and ran out into the street. Freya led the way to the eastern seawall, tracing the same path she had taken the night before. When they approached the wall, she saw the same mass of warriors and fishermen with swords and harpoons crowding near the door with several men up on the wall and several boys on the roofs of the nearby houses, their slings already hurling stones over the wall.
And then the blazing white light of Omar’s sword erupted atop the wall, and Freya grinned. “Come on, we’re not needed here. Omar can take care of anything that attacks this door. Let’s go to the next one.”
They turned south and snaked a path carefully through the gawkers and the boys and the mothers.
“If you’re not fighting, get back inside!” Freya shouted.
At the next door in the seawall there were far fewer men on the wall, and all of them were fishermen, but they had three times as many slingers behind them, and the stones were flying as thick as the snow blasting down on them in the arctic wind. The torches fluttered and gasped, threatening to go out.
Freya and Erik climbed up to the top of the wall and the fishermen made room for them.
“The hunters!” One of the older men nodded. “Good. Everyone’s at the north door tonight. They all want to be near Omar. Everyone wants to see him fight with that damn sword of his.”
“Let them. More for us,” Freya said. She peered out at the bay and her keen fox eyes quickly picked out the sharp ripples in the water driving toward the city. “They’re swimming? But that water’s freezing. They won’t put up much of a fight when they get here.”
“Let’s hope not,” Erik signed.
