The door that was now bursting open. The door that Gunnar and Sigrún were now strolling casually through.
Gunnar’s gaze fell on her prosthetic arm on the floor, and he raised an eyebrow. But the warrior did not ask about it as he collapsed into a chair and propped his feet on a stool. Instead, he said, “Well? What is the plan, Smasher?”
Hekla shot him a look of irritation before turning to Sigrún. The realization that the pair hadn’t gone off with Eyvind and his retinue warmed her from within. But they knew well enough she’d been cast from the job.
Where do you need us? signed Sigrún, her brown eyes blazing.It’s clear you’re the only one in these lands with brains in her skull. Hakonsson and his retinue are on Loftur’s leash, which means it’s only us standing between the people of Istré and the mist.
Hekla stared at Sigrún and Gunnar; they watched her expectantly. How could they trust in her judgement after all that had happened?
“I don’t know.” Her voice was thin, so empty of conviction. She wanted to lie down. A brittle laugh escaped her, and she stared into the hearthfire. “Axe Eyes would know what to do.”
“He’s not here in body,” said Gunnar. “But he’s here in spirit. He’s trained us all. So let us think like Axe Eyes.”
Silence stretched out, disrupted only by the occasional snap of embers.
Hekla thought back to Rey, sitting tall upon Horse as they’d travelled the Road of Bones.We’ll survey the locations of the abductions and speak to locals, he’d said.We must observe this...mist. Determine if it is indeed cloaking creatures. We’ll determine numbers, strength, formations, strategy, and then create a plan of attack.
“We’ve scouted the attack locations,” Hekla said slowly. “We’ve spoken to locals and observed the mist from inside and out. We have been blocked from examining how the mist is produced or where it emerges from within the woods.” Hekla frowned. “But we have learned a few things. It is repelled by flame.”
Gunnar and Sigrún exchanged a look.
“And we know the mist is not cloaking creatures,” continued Hekla. “But rather iscreatingthem.”
What do you mean creating?signed Sigrún.
“My horse,” Hekla forced out around a vicious wave of nausea. “The mist infected her, and changed her into something unnatural. I could not kill her the usual way—” Hekla let out a shaky breath. “I had to take off her head.”
Gunnar toyed with a silver cuff on one of his locs. “So, this...thing...draws energy from the plants in the forest and uses it to create the mist, which, in turn, creates the undead creatures.”
Hekla nodded. “And there is more. Tonight, I saw it; the mist was banished by moonlight. But on the double black moon?—”
There will be no moonlight, Sigrún signed.It will be able to venture unrestrained from the woods.
“It seems there is no changing Loftur’s mind about this feast,” muttered Gunnar. “So we must plan around the festivities.”
Evacuate in secret?signed Sigrún.
“Set a trap?” suggested Gunnar.
How many will attend the feast?signed Sigrún.
“I overheard Halldora mention gathering enough ale for two hundred,” said Gunnar.
The trio looked at one another, and the determination in both Gunnar and Sigrún’s faces kindled hope in Hekla’s chest. She did not have Eyvind, nor did she have the full force of the Bloodaxe Crew, but she had these two. And that counted for more than she could say.
“Three of us to protect and evacuate two hundred,” murmured Hekla. It felt impossible, and yet, there was nothing to be done. Their task was set, and now they would see it through. Hekla pulled her warrior’s mask into place, looking from her Bloodaxe brother to her Bloodaxe sister. “Do you trust me?”
They nodded.
“Good,” she said, her resolve growing stronger with each beat of her heart. “Like Axe Eyes always said,if you cannot trust the men and women beside you, you’re already food for the corpse vultures. And if we want to survive tonight, we’ll need to remember that.”
Hekla leaned in, beckoning the others closer. “I have a plan.”
EIGHTEEN
As Hekla descended the crumbling riverbank, she glanced at the western horizon for the dozenth time that hour. No matter how often she reassured herself that twilight was many hours off, she could not help but check the sun’s progress.
Tonight was the double black moon. Hekla’s skin crawled as she imagined the mist waiting, watching, biding its time, while Istré’s citizens bustled with excitement over tonight’s feast.
