“She has. But she won’t succeed.”
Skalmöld joined them on the battlements, Andora in tow. Both women wore armor and were carrying bows and arrows.
“Where’s Gylfa?” Thori asked, a hint of concern in his voice.
Was he getting attached not only to Andora but also to the rest of Njord’s household?
“She’s down at the harbor, leading the warriors there,” Skalmöld said.
“May the Norns bless her sword,” Thori mumbled.
He sent a pulse of his golden power her way, invisible but clearly noticeable. A warrior god’s blessing. Njord reinforced it with a nudge of his own power, understanding passing between them. Theirlið. Their little family of warriors, if only for the time of battle, and they both were going to defend them with their lives.
“What is Svanhild waiting for?” Andora asked.
“She’s preparing her rottenseiðr,” Skalmöld said, watching the fleet.
Njord could feel it building too, and so could Thori, judging by the paleness of his face. Hurriedly, Thori breathed a blessing against Andora’s brow too, and Njord allowed him to tap into his power, strengthening his gift. Skalmöld grinned at them knowingly.
“Do you hear that?” she asked.
A low chanting rose from the enemy ships, the sounds mourning and eerie as if the dead were singing and not theliving. The voices of dozens ofvölur, weaving a powerfulseiðr. Svanhild had brought every last sorceress under her command.
“Look,” Thori said. “The water.”
Njord followed his gaze, and indeed the sea was churning. Boiling. He reached out to calm the disturbance and almost recoiled as he sensed the rottenseiðrfestering in his very domain.
The gray waves turned murky and brown, something huge andwrongmoving in their depths.
“What is she doing?”
Andora sounded scared.
Njord didn’t have an answer for her. He gathered the power of the waves and pushed back. For a second, the water cleared, but then the chanting intensified, and Njord staggered as Svanhild’sseiðrhit him like a physical blow.
An arrow hissed as it passed him. It shouldn’t have been able to reach the ships, Sveinn’s fleet lurking just out of shooting range, but Skalmöld chanted, and the arrow lit up a clear icy green. It found one of the ship’s grotesque prows and set it aflame.
“Again!” Skalmöld shouted, and Njord realized that Thori was shooting.
He should’ve kept his focus on the ships below, on Svanhild and herseiðr, but he couldn’t resist sparing a few breaths on watching Thori handle his bow and arrow with graceful strength. Because Thori was a vision. As usual. Skalmöld set each of his arrows on fire with a spell Njord had only ever seen sorceresses such as Ahti and Perhonen use. She was indeed a powerfulvala.
But even as several longships were engulfed in green flames, something moved in the water beneath them. Did a pod of whales lose their path to end up in the fray of battle?
“Do you see that movement underwater?” Skalmöld shouted. “Aim there!”
Njord tried to get a grasp on the enemy’sseiðr, but as much as he tried to push it back, Svanhild and hervölurwere stronger, and he couldn’t even fathom what they were trying to do.
Until the giant rose from the sea.
The creature stood up from the waves, taller than Nóatún’s walls, its body the color of old blood and black earth. And despite its hideous shape, born from mud and peat and corruptedseiðr, Njord recognized the face.
“Norns,” Thori breathed. “It’s Egil the merchant. They rose the man you drowned from his wet grave and turned him into a fucking giant.”
Skalmöld tilted her head, eyes narrowed and calculating.
“A giant of mud and peat wearing Egil’s face? She must’ve combined a spell of the Bog Mother with one to raise the dead, not unlike theseiðrI used to talk to Hrothgar. Impressive.”
One of Thori’s arrows pierced the giant’s shoulder, but Skalmöld’s fire extinguished on the wet, leathery skin.
