Thief Eyes

Ari put on a final burst of speed as we left another town behind and headed into a broad valley. Grassy hills rose to our left, and a rocky field stretched out to our right. Ari wove around a herd of sheep that were sleepily crossing the road. Unlike the horse, the sheep didn’t seem to see us.

The horizon turned gray. Drizzle fell, sizzling as it hit my hot skin. Not panicking, not panicking … The rain rolled right off Ari’s white fur. He slowed down to look at a road sign. I shined the flashlight on it. Ari nodded and sped back up. Several more times he slowed to read signs and squint at the farmhouses beyond them.

Abruptly the pavement ended. The sky was brighter now, and I didn’t need a flashlight to see the sign at the roadside: Hlidarendi, it read. Ari turned left and headed up a steep gravel lane, damp with rain. Around us, yellow and orange grasses were dotted with dandelions gone to seed. Raindrops clung to their fuzzy white tops. We passed another farmhouse, rounded a bend, and headed toward a small red-roofed church. On the slopes beyond it I saw more farmhouses.

Bright light broke through the dripping gray clouds. Ari staggered, and his fur rippled beneath my hands. I lost my grip and slid to the ground, even as Ari shrank, fur withdrawing into skin, head and arms and legs all pulling back, reshaping themselves into a human face, human limbs. In moments Ari’s white hair was all that remained of the bear he’d been. He crouched on all fours, looking at me. I couldn’t tell whether his skin was drenched with sweat or rain.

“Sorry,” he said. “I guess you’ll have to walk—the last few meters—” He tried to stand, but crumpled to the ground.

“Ari!” I knelt beside him, ignoring the fire that burned on in me, ignoring sore hips and aching hands and the rain that continued to fall. His eyes were closed. I leaned close to his lips to make sure he was breathing.

Ari’s eyes fluttered open, and he gave a shaky smile. “Don’t tempt me, yeah?” He slowly sat up. “I’m okay. Just—a little tired.” His breath came out in gasps.

I remembered Svan talking about berserks. Strong enough during a change, not much use after. “Can you stand?”

“I can,” Ari said. “But I—would rather—not if—it’s all—the same to you. Gunnar’s home is somewhere—past the church, I think. You should be able to make it—the rest of the way—on your own.”

“Hell no. We got this far together. I’m not ditching you now.”

“Being ditched doesn’t sound—so bad. Just give me a few minutes.”

I rubbed my arms. Through the nylon and fleece, I felt the heat from my skin. How long could I wait?

Something must have showed in my face, because Ari nodded grimly and draped his arm over my shoulders. His legs wobbled as I pulled him to his feet. He shivered in the thin light. “Your skin is burning, Haley.”

“I know.” I unzipped my jacket. The fire burned on, sweat plastering my T-shirt to my skin. Ari looked at me, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I continued up the hill, dragging him with me. The path was steeper than it looked. My thighs ached as we climbed. Ari’s legs trembled.

“What you did,” I said as the rain kept falling around us, evaporating when it hit my skin. “That was amazing.”

Tired as he was, Ari grinned. “It was, wasn’t it? I think I could get used to being a bear.” He stumbled; I caught him. “Only the hangover the next morning? That part sucks.”

The gravel ended at a parking lot behind the church. From the roof, I heard chittering. A half dozen black- capped arctic terns were lined up there, staring at us through tiny eyes.

We walked faster, across the parking lot and up the hillside. Ari panted as we climbed through grasses slick with rain. Sheep grazed on the slopes above us. A stream trickled downhill a few dozen feet to our right, and a small wooden bridge arced over it. “I’m supposed—to go—here on—a class trip—next year. I don’t know—the exact spot—where Gunnar and Hallgerd had their house. But there’s a tourist sign.” Ari gestured up the hill. “Maybe it’s —close enough?”

The gray sky was bright, sun turning the clouds gold around the edges. I took a few steps toward the stream, stopped short, and looked around. “Here,” I said.

“How can you know—”

“I know this hillside. I stood here in my dreams.” Heat rose in me as I remembered—blocks falling, fiery arrows striking the ground—this ground. I released Ari’s arm to take off my backpack. He staggered and fell to his knees.

I knelt by his side. “You sure you’re all right?”

Ari gave me a long look. “As sure as you are.”

“Right.” I tore off my jacket. Wind blew through my sodden T-shirt, but it felt hot as the desert wind back home. I drew the spellbook from my pack and laid out the ingredients for the spell: The mead. The bowl. The claw. The rock, which was softer than it looked, flaking at the edges. I left the knife in the pack—I didn’t plan to use it. At last I reached for the coin. Its heat felt good against my burning skin, like a warm caress. I pulled it out.

As I did, the air filled with the beating of wings. I stood and whirled around, shoving the coin back into my pocket. Ari got to his feet by my side, though his legs still shook.

Muninn circled once around us, then landed on a rock beside my backpack. The terns fell silent. The clouds thickened, and the drizzle turned to a fine misting rain.

Not again, not now, I can’t forget now—I didn’t look into Muninn’s eyes. I’m Haley Martinez, I thought fiercely. Daughter of Gabe and Amanda—

“Haley.” Muninn’s wingbeats were soft and slow. “I come to offer you a bargain.” 

Chapter 15

“What bargain?” I could run. But Ari couldn’t, and besides, even an ordinary raven flew faster than my fastest sprint.

The wind died. Scraps of mist hovered over the wet hillside. “A bargain to protect this land from the fire you hold.”

“You can do that?” I looked into Muninn’s eyes after all. Dizziness washed over me. “You can take the fire away?” Mist brushed my neck, but the cold was a surface thing. It couldn’t sink into my skin or reach the fire that flowed beneath it.

“I cannot.” The fine rain didn’t seem to touch Muninn’s feathers. “The bargains you made in the fire realm are your own. I cannot undo them. What I can do is take you out of this place. In my mountain, you’ll be beyond the reach of those who would enter this world through your fire. The land will be safer if you are not in it.”

“No.” Ari grabbed my hand. His fingers felt cool around mine.

Muninn krawked—it sounded like a laugh. His bright gaze shifted to Ari. “And how do you like being a bear, boy?”

“I like it fine.” Ari leaned on me to steady himself. “What about Haley? How safe will she be if she accepts your bargain?”

“Safer than she would be anywhere else.” Mist drifted around the raven. “There are no spirits in my mountain to feed her fire, and in my halls she might find the knowledge to keep that fire from consuming her.”

Like Mom had been consumed—but Hallgerd’s magic had done that. I thought of those fiery arrows tearing gashes in the earth. “Would I have to forget again if I went with you?”

Muninn’s wings stopped for a beat—a moment’s hesitation. “No. And I’d return the memory of you to the wide land—a gift for a gift.”

“So you’re saying our parents can remember us just in time for us to disappear forever?” Ari swayed and tightened his grip on my hand. “Some gift.”

“Don’t be stupid,” I said. “You wouldn’t have to go.”

Ari laughed softly. “Ah, but being stupid is what I’m good at. Always best to stick with our strengths. Of course I’d go with you. I may not be much use in the rescue department, but I can get this much right. I won’t abandon you, either.”