Thori sighed.
Would the Shipbreaker hunt down Sveinn for raiding his lands and search for his lost people? Njord of Nóatún. He’d sworn vengeance on Thori for the death of his dragon, and if he found Thori a thrall, a swift death would be the least of his concerns.
Before things came to that, he had to flee. His siblings needed him. Asgard needed him. And if he could uncover who the priestess was who had prophesied glory and greatness for himthe day he was born, perhaps he could find out who had a reason to make his parents disappear.
I’ve seen your master. You’ll never escape him.
He only hoped that Svanhild had been lying when she had babbled about her dream; otherwise, Thori would have to reweave the threads of his fate himself.
four
Sword-Time
Njord
The bare mountain slopes above the tree line were shrouded in thick clouds. Trudging up a narrow path, Njord’s boots crunched over frost-crusted stones. A biting wind tore at his coat and made him shiver; even the thick sealskin covering his shoulders did nothing to change that. He cursed under his breath. Late summer was the best time to travel these mountains, Perhonen had said. He snorted. Up here, it might as well have been the heart of winter.
But it was said that a seeress resided in a cave high in the mountains. The farmers dwelling in the lower lands whispered about her, and Perhonen had advised him to look for her. She said that this mysterious woman was not only avalaas powerful as Perhonen herself—unlikely, for beside his sister and her wife, Njord had met no one matching Perhonen’s power—but she also claimed that the seeress would be able to reveal important prophecies to him. Things he needed to know if he wanted to find his lost sister.
Gritting his teeth, Njord pulled his hood over his head. He was traveling disguised as a simple wanderer, but in the damp cold of the mountains, he missed his cozy chambers in his fortress at Nóatún. He quickened his steps as if a brisk pace would allow him to escape his doubts and worries. He missed his family, and he missed Jökull. Like most nights, he’d dreamed of her friendly voice inside his head, of the blue-and-white gleam of her scales as she surged through the waves next to his longship. He’d find the mountain seeress, and he’d demand answers. Then he’d be able to bring Ahti and Vellamo home and his young nephews back from their dangerous missions.
Andthen, he’d avenge Jökull’s death.
Just as he thought he had lost his way, the entrance to the cave emerged abruptly in front of him. It was a humble dwelling place, nothing more than a jagged opening in the mountainside. A wisp of smoke curled from within, carrying with it the scent of burning pine and something sweeter. Honey? Mead, maybe? A promising sign, he supposed. At least the seeress wasn’t one of the ascetic kind who lived on roots and snowmelt.
Ducking to avoid cracking his head on the low entrance, Njord stepped inside. He paused to let his eyes adjust to the dim light. A fire crackled at the center of the cavern, its flickering glow casting shifting shadows over walls adorned with peculiar symbols. Njord prided himself on being well-versed in the art ofseiðr, but he’d never encountered the spells depicted in the seeress’ cave. She was either a brilliantvalaor a charlatan.
Warily, Njord eyed the bundles of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, their scent mingling with the smoke. The air wasthick, thrumming with an energy that felt both familiar and strange.
“You’re late, sea king.”
She stood on the far side of the fire: a tall woman with broad shoulders and a braid of dark brown hair that reached her waist. Her striking ice-green eyes seemed to see right through him. She reminded him of someone. But he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. With an elegant twist of her wrist, she added a powdered herb to a steaming pot over the flames.
“I wasn’t aware we agreed on a meeting,” Njord grumbled.
“And yet, you’re here.”
She laughed; her smile was wide and infectious.
“I’ve come to talk to thevalaof this place.”
“I’m Skalmöld,” she said, and there was a challenge in her tone, as if she was daring him to offend her. “You’ve come seeking answers.”
“My sister and her wife are missing.” Instead of rising to her bait, Njord cut straight to the matter at hand. He didn’t have time to exchange insults with a half-witted mountain priestess.
Skalmöld.
Swordtime.
What a name…
“And you hope to find them in this humble place?”
Bristling, Njord took a threatening step toward her.
“I can pay for your services,vala, but if you think you can fool me with a few riddled words and some sleight-of-hand tricks, you’ll find that I can be quite resentful.”
Skalmöld’s smile didn’t falter.
