“Now we need something of Egill’s,” Irina says.
Wincing, Nils removes what’s left of Egill’s shredded pelt and tosses it into the middle of the circle. “Here.”
“Take the hands of the people sitting beside you,” Irina says, taking Nils’s and Isaac’s hands.
Val grips Isaac’s other hand, but I don’t miss that she was already holding Tala’s hand. Edith has Tala’s other one. Nils takes Helga’s, while she reluctantly joins hands with Father, and so do I. Edith holds her hand out to me like an offering. Our eyes lock for a long moment.
I take her hand in mine.
Finally, we are united.
Irina glances over at my brother. “You should lead us, Nils,” she says reluctantly. “You’re way more powerful than I am.”
“Is everyone ready?” Nils asks, looking around.
One by one, everyone nods.
Nils begins to chant in Old Norse. “We call upon the grandson of Kveldulf, the son of Skalla-Grímr, the father of Þorgerðr, Bera, Böðvarr, Gunnar, and Þorsteinn. Egill Skallagrímsson, we call upon you!”
Wind blasts us, blowing back our hair, our clothes.
“Don’t let go!” Irina shouts over the howling gusts.
Dark clouds gather overhead as the air crackles.
Slowly, Egill rises from the tatters of his pelt, floating in the air before us. He hovers there, as fearsome to behold as his statue. His eyes are a blinding white, his face hardened and brutal. The sight of him strikes terror into me.Thisis our ancestor.
Skallagrim’s founder.
Skald. Seer. Berserkr.
Nils continues in Old Norse, having to shout over the whipping wind. “O Mighty Egill, the nine of us offer our seiðr up to you and ask you to return all the spirits to their realm once more. We beseech you, as your final act, mend this rift between our realms.”
Egill throws his arms out, and lightning spreads throughout the sky.
A great gust of wind slams into us.
Our uncle’s spirit rises out of Nils, suspended in the air. Nils draws in a deep, unsteady breath. Across from him, another spirit emerges from Tala, then Isaac, leaving both of them gasping. A sense of awe and dread fills me. It’s working.
All throughout Skallagrim, more spirits start to rise.
Egill chants, ancient words pouring from his lips like lava.
The spirits soar through the air like shooting stars. In streaks of bright light, they’re sucked back inside the seer school, returning to the site of the Tragedy—and their own realm. A burst of blinding light sears my eyes.
I can’t see, but I can hear as the seer school starts to crumble. Chunks break off the building, crashing down to the ground, the impact jolting us. Edith grips my hand more tightly. A cloud of debris hits us. Rocks pelt my skin as gritty rubble forces me to squeeze my eyes shut.
The school collapses, reverberating through me.
It sounds like an explosion has gone off.
Still, I hold on to Edith and Father.
The earth underneath us shakes violently.
And then… quiet.
When I open my eyes, Egill is gone. The seer school is nothing but a heap of rubble. Edith releases the breath she was holding. I give her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
