Their gazes held. But they were soon wrenched apart by screams from above. Kassandr’s feet were moving before he could think, carrying him up a staircase and down a corridor. Soon he was bursting onto the defensive wall. Another scream, projectiles thudding against the protective roof. Kassandr braced himself for the scent of smoke, for the sound of crackling flames.
Instead, a metallic tang met his nose.
“Blood,” he hissed. Another scream had him racing along the defensive walls leading to the gate tower where he’d left his father and Oleg.
The Urkan fleet now dotted the river—a hundred prowed ships crawling with warriors. Before, it had been merely a warning, a thing that had not yet come to pass. But now that he laid eyes on the Urkans, everything became real. Kassandr’s heart pounded as he stared at the largest of the fleet, trying to see King Ivar’s blond head of hair.
A wail from the turret had him tearing his gaze away. There he found his father and brother huddled on the tower’s floor. Kresimir and his retinue stood around the high prince and his son, shields raised protectively as heavy objects battered down from above. Thank the four gods, Kassandr’s kin were unharmed, but he jolted back as a projectile split through the timber roof and crashed onto the walkway.
Kassandr stopped, staring at the missile.
Not a missile. A human head.
He was not proud of his first instinct.You see?Kassandr wanted to gloat.Why did you not listen to me—to Saga—when we warned you ofthe Urkans?They were selfish and petty thoughts to have in such dire times, and as Kassandr’s gaze slid about the gate tower, he felt nothing but pity for those present. Oleg twisted to retch on the floorboards, Kresimir’s face white as candle wax. And his father stared blankly, clutching something to his chest.
“Father,” Kass hissed. “There is only one way forward now. We must get to the war chamber. Mobilize our warriors.”
But as the high prince’s retinue parted, the item in his father’s hands came into focus. Elder Bogdan’s lifeless eyes stared up at Kassandr, his face twisted into fear and agony.
“They’ve killed them,” said the high prince dully. “They’ve killed them all—Elder Bogdan and the rest of the delegation. Every hostage taken from the ocean gate.”
“Is something in mouth.”
Kass whirled, a low growl coming from deep within him. There stood Saga in the gate tower’s doorway, as human heads rained down on the fortress from above. She was still clad in the ethereal gown, and looked out of place among the soldiers rushing about. Kassandr’s instincts urged him to usher her back into the keep. But hadn’t he wanted this? For her to work alongside him? And so he swallowed his irritation and snatched Elder Bogdan’s decapitated head from his father’s grip. He pried the elder’s broken teeth apart and worked a wad of parchment from his mouth. Kassandr unfolded it carefully.
“What does it say?” demanded Oleg, jostling to his side and yanking the note from his hand.
Oleg’s face drained of color, one hand flying to his mouth.
“Their demand is this,” read Oleg, “that the river runs red with our blood.”
Chapter 24
Kopa, Íseldur
The air held a bitter chill and her muscles ached, yet Silla could not wipe the smile from her face as she slid from Dawn’s saddle. She, Atli, and a combined assortment of his retinue and her guards had ridden up a snaking pathway for an hour or so until they reached the rolling, snow-covered meadows atop Brími.
Brittle yellow grasses protruded from the snow, interspersed with bursts of blue.Stjarna’s lilies,Silla heard her foster mother say.They bloom only after the first fall of snow.The lilies, she decided, were a reminder of resilience—or perhaps a reminder that beautiful things could thrive even when all else had perished. Silla smiled like a fool. With fresh air in her lungs and a rousing wind on her cheeks, her mood was so bright that Myrkur burrowed ever deeper within her.
Ever since Myrkur’s great expenditure of energy on the day of Fallgerd’s death, He’d been remarkably quiet, slumbering deep within her. Silla had foolishly hoped He’d be permanently incapacitated, though somehow she knew it would not be so easy. Her fears were confirmed this morning, as she’d sensed Him beginning to stir.
She had to be quick to do this without His notice. Runný, Ingvarr, and the rest of Silla’s guards milled about with Atli’s retinue near the trail’s edge, but Silla and Atli had ridden farther into the meadow before dismounting. Dawn nudged her elbow, and Sillaturned toward her, pulling an oat treat from the folds of her fur-lined cloak.
“I’ve missed you so much, girl,” she whispered, stroking Dawn’s cheek as the horse chomped on the treat. “But I hear you’ve been grazing in Jarl Hakon’s sheltered pastures. I bet his grass tastes better than the best grass you’ve ever had. Have you made friends with the other horses…”
Silla trailed off as snow crunched and a figure appeared by her side.
“Did you say something?” asked Atli Hakonsson, lips quirked. He was clad in the finest fur cloak Silla had ever seen, and it draped asymmetrically, revealing the thick weapons belt secured at his hips.
“I…was talking to Dawn.” Silla knew she should probably be embarrassed, yet she was too distracted by the view from so high. “You trulycansee all the way to the ocean!”
For a moment, she forgot about all the challenges before her and simply took in the beauty. To the north, snow-covered, toothy mountains stretched for leagues until they met the sea. To the south, the city of Kopa was nestled into Brími’s embrace, the Hvíta River and Black Road snaking through the landscape beyond it.
Silla found her gaze drifting south, toward Sunnavík. The Weaver had hinted that Saga’s thread had diverged some distance from Silla’s. Was that why they hadn’t heard from her? Silla reached inward for the curious sisterly bond through which they’d communicated, but it remained still and silent. At first, Silla had thought it muted by the hindrium, but what if that was not true? What if she couldn’t feel Saga because her sister was gone from the realm of the living?
With a deep breath, Silla shook her head and reminded herself why she’d insisted on coming up here. While Atli might think she simply wanted some fresh air, Silla had ulterior motives. She needed to find natural halda deposits so she could test her theory that the Volsik bloodline gift allowed her to pull raw power from the minerals.
Silla strode purposefully toward a windswept patch in the meadow. But her foot caught on a snow-covered stone, sending hersprawling. “Sor—” She caught herself before she could finish apologizing to yet another rock.
