Loftur had explained to her that they’d originally thought the culprits behind the Hagenssons’ disappearance to be rogue outlaws, and as such, a ritual cleansing had been performed. Once they understood the true scope of the problem and had sent word to King Ivar, Loftur had been instructed to leave the steadings for the king’s investigators. But Hekla couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling there was something at that first steading Loftur didn’t want her to see.
“As I was saying,” Eyvind said, a note of irritation in his voice as his gaze flitted to Hekla for the barest of moments, “today we shall examine the site of the second attack. The Braksson steading.”
“Perhaps while we’re there,” Hekla said, fighting to control her breaths, “at the very least, we can examine the inner border of the Western Woods.”
Konal folded his arms across his barrel chest, and Hekla felt her hands flex. Gods, she’d known this man all of two minutes, and already she wanted to throttle him.
“Today,” said Eyvind, in a disgustingly diplomatic voice, “we shall examine thefarmlands. Nothing more.” His warning gaze fell on Hekla. “We shall not enter the woods.”
She eyed House Hakon’s heir-in-waiting, trying to understand. Why did these men brush aside her every suggestion? Why did they not trust in her words and the work she’d invested into this job? She felt as though she were going mad. Were her suggestions truly so brash?
“Wemustgo deeper,” she tried. “Already, we’ve examined the farmlands and are no closer to understanding this mist. The time for caution has passed. Bolder action must be taken.”
“As I’ve said before,” said Loftur the Slow Witted, “that is not an option.”
Eyvind lifted a placating hand. “Loftur has explained his dilemma to me, and I believe a compromise can be found?—”
Her patience snapped. “What is this dilemma,All Wise?” Hekla’s tone made it clear she found the man’s name entirely unsuitable. “Your need to consume as much ale as you can while your people die?”
A sound of displeasure escaped Loftur. Beside him, an incredulous laugh burst from Eyvind, but he schooled himself as Hekla turned her glare upon him. She tried to find a single redeeming quality about the bootlicker before her. Where was the man she’d opened up to the night before?
As though reading her assessment, Eyvind’s jaw flexed, a crack showing in his demeanor. “I do not know how Axe Eyes ran things,” he said in a hard voice, “but I prefer to gather all information I can before rushing into danger.”
Hekla battled the urge to scream in frustration, but it only grew stronger at the look exchanged between Loftur and Eyvind.
“What Loftur is about to share,” said Eyvind, “is in strict confidence. If I hear it has left this room, I swear to you now, I will track down the perpetrators and cut the tongues from their mouths.”
Loftur stood and hefted his belt up. “We in Istré have a long andcomplicated relationship with the Western Woods,” he began. “Wardens, they once called us. Guardians of the woods. We honored the gods and the lesser spirits. But seventeen years ago, that all changed.”
Loftur’s gaze grew distant, and the unspoken words rang loud in the room: seventeen years ago, when the Urkans had invaded and outlawed worship of Íseldur’s old gods. Hekla’s gaze narrowed on Loftur as she wondered what nonsense this blockhead was about to spew.
“For seventeen years, we’ve forsaken our gods,” continued Loftur. “Have abandoned our rituals and the old ways. Our link to this land has been weakened. And slowly, our gods, too, have abandoned us. The winters have grown long. The woods have grown wild. Unnatural creatures abound. And now, the mist.”
Loftur stroked his long beard. “Sunnvald came to me in a dream.”
Here we go,thought Hekla, battling the urge to roll her eyes.
“The Sun God told me that the mist is a sign of unbalance—that to restore balance we must restore our broken faith. And so, it is Sunnvald’s decree that we rekindle our week-long Winter Nights celebrations, which culminates with a grand feast on the night of the double black moon. When Sunnvald is restored to His full strength, He will banish the mist and heal both our people and our lands.”
Hekla glanced around the room, waiting for laughter or mockery, but she was greeted with silence. She exchanged an incredulous look with Sigrún.
Surely, they do not believe this nonsense?Hekla signed.
Sigrún shook her head, dumbfounded.
But Eyvind Hakonsson smiled broadly at Loftur. “I see no fault in these plans, Loftur,” he said jovially. His gaze quickly found Hekla’s, and it was clear his next words were meant for her. “It is important that we respect Loftur’s wishes while we are in Istré. He’s an old friend of my father’s and comes from a long line of chieftains.”
Hekla snapped her mouth shut before every thought in her skull could spill out. She stared at Eyvind, trying not to show her dismay. It was beginning to make sense. Eyvind’s father was a friend to Loftur.He hadn’t come to help the citizens of Istré at Rey’s bequest. He’d come with orders from his father to assist Loftur.
Eyvind looked out over his men. “Today marks the start of a new partnership. The Bloodaxe Crew joins forces with House Hakon.” He looked to Loftur, nodding. “Together, we shall vanquish the mist and restore peace to Istré.”
It took all of Hekla’s energy not to storm from the hall. The man had ignored every word she’d spoken and had made promises that would be impossible to keep.
Your nose is wrinkling, signed Sigrún, and Hekla tried to relax her face.
“Let us take the daymeal together,” continued Eyvind, gesturing to the long table.
Hekla bit down on a retort as Gunnar nudged her. “What happened to making a good first impression?”
