The tiny winged woman pursed her lips in distaste. “The tree the leech inhabits is impenetrable. All I know is that I was once warned by Sunnvald to call upon the Protector should seeds of chaos ever be sown in my forest.”
“I can fetch the Protector,” said Rey cautiously, “although she cannot come straightaway.”
Hekla’s gaze snapped to him, but his expression was unreadable. Axe Eyes was beyond an asset to this mission. He was a fount of knowledge on monsters and battle tactics; a leader whom all looked up to. Was he truly suggesting he might not see this through?
But as a groove formed between his black brows, Hekla guessed he was thinking about the weight on Silla’s shoulders—the bargain living in her blood, and her need to unite the jarls of the north. Sympathy twinged in Hekla’s chest, and she was mildly disappointed that she was not, in fact, the Protector—that she could not take some of the burden from Silla.
“Iwillbring her,” said Rey. The confidence in his voice told Hekla a decision had been made. She glanced about to see if the others felt the same trepidation she did, but they did not seem to be fazed in the least. “But,” Rey continued, “how, precisely, is she to defeat this foe? She shows Ashbringer intuition—”
The Forest Maiden lifted a hand. “I know nothing but that the Sun God granted the Protector some weapon. A thing to wield against His trickster brother.” She closed her eyes, growing silent for a long moment. “I have few eyes left in these woods, but some ofthe trees still heed my call. They tell me of a great gathering in the heartwood. There the leech assembles a vast army of the un-made. In order to reach the tree, we will have to battle through thousands of its soldiers.”
Kritka let out a strange, squirrelly howl.
“Thousands?” muttered Thrand, putting a hand to his forehead.
“The trees have shown me the breadth of the leech’s army, and I tell you this, mortals.” The winged woman looked about. “Your numbers are not great enough to stand a fighting chance. You’ll need more—many more able-bodied warriors.”
Silence stretched out in the wake of her words until Rey cleared his throat. “I will return to Kopa to fetch the Protector,” he said. “And while I am there, I will muster more warriors.”
“Talk to Atli,” suggested Eyvind. “He’ll be able to help.”
The groove between Rey’s brows was back, his lips pulling into a look of distaste. But before Hekla could ponder it, Rey’saxe eyeshad landed on her. “It is clear to me,” he said slowly, “there is one more suited to leading the task in the woods than I. This duty and great honor I pass to you, Rib Smasher.”
Hekla stared at him, doubt brewing inside her. Had he not just seen her cower before the great spider? She’d faltered when these warriors had needed leadership the most. Hekla glanced around, trying to read the group’s reaction. But rather than apprehension or doubt, they seemed in agreement of this plan. As she met Eyvind’s gaze, lit with pride, determination sparked to life deep inside her. This was her chance to see this job through. To prove to men like Loftur what she could truly accomplish.
Hekla squared her shoulders. “Are you all on board?” She examined all those standing in the glade—Gunnar and Sigrún, Thrand and the rest of the warriors from Kopa. As the chorus ofayesfilled the glade, her determination only grew.
“Then it is settled,” said the Forest Maiden to Hekla. “You, the one to whom my foot soldier has bound himself. You will bring me to the southwestern reaches of the woods, to the place where the other fragment of my being lies dormant.”
Hekla’s chest clenched as she saw Íseldur’s map in her mind. It was as far away as one could get in the Western Woods. “Southwestern…but that is an impossible distance.”
“Not with my magic,” said the Forest Maiden. “Once I am fully restored, then I’ll be able to call to my children—those forest creatures who escaped the boundaries of the woods before the leech could claim them—and awaken the forest spirits. We will gather an army of our own. And then we will meet the Protector in the heartwood and do battle with the corrupted.”
The Maiden glanced at the skies. “The leech is weakened by the light of the moons. It would be to our advantage to do battle when Marra is next at her fullest.”
“But that is…” Rey thought for a moment. “Just over three weeks from now. And factoring in travel…” He paused. “That leaves me a fortnight to muster an army.”
“Yes,” said the Maiden, unconcerned. “And the longer we wait, the stronger the leech grows. It will create more un-made. Venture farther from the woods. Its hunger will never be satisfied—it will feast and feast until all plants and creatures in this realm have succumbed to it. We must act quickly.”
Kritka’s eager howl filled the woods, and it was infectious. Despite the impossibility of the task before them, Hekla’s spirits lifted.
At last, they had a plan.
Chapter 21
Kopa, Íseldur
Silla’s knee bounced uncontrollably as she sat at the sunlit table near her glass-paned windows. Myrkur was silent, slumbering deep within her as He had since Fallgerd’s death. Before her sat an empty jug of róa and the deconstructed ruins of a sweet roll. The sight of them made her stomach turn over. She’d had no appetite since leaving Fallgerd’s home the day before, and had not allowed herself to fall asleep. What if Myrkur took hold of her again? Forced her to do some other dark deed?
Instead of sleeping, Silla had desperately pored over a fresh stack of books from Jarl Hakon’s library. Now more than ever, she needed to rid herself of this bargain. And Fallgerd had confirmed that there was a way out of it—something that King Hrolf had been too old to attempt. Silla vowed she would not rest until she unearthed it.
But it was difficult to focus when Fallgerd’s corpse invaded her mind’s eye constantly. She’d taken a life before, but under duress. Fallgerd had been a good man.
Her heartache for Fallgerd had entwined with her sorrow at Saga’s absence. Every day, Silla asked Jarl Hakon, and every day, the answer was the same—there was no sign of her. Her sorrow twisted into frustration. It should be Saga here, uniting the jarls of the north. Wherewasshe?
More than once, Silla had broken down into a mess of raggedsobs. During a particularly violent bout, Runný had rushed into her chambers and folded her into her arms.
“I killed him,” Silla said, “didn’t I?” She couldn’t stop staring at her hands. Couldn’t stop wiping phantom blood from them.
