Chapter Eleven:
The Halls of the High King

Runar flew off early the next morning to find out how long it would take Katja to reach Konvald. Valna tried to start a conversation, but I couldn’t take my eyes from the raven that hopped from beam to beam above our heads.

“Why is that in here?” I asked. “Shouldn’t we try and shoo it out of the house?”

Valna’s shoulder tensed as she poked at the slowly growing fire. “We can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, we brought it with us.” Her voice was saturated with forced cheerfulness. “It’s Katja’s pet.”

“Right.”

The raven seemed to sense my glare and it fluttered onto the table and croaked at me. I swatted a hand at it, but it flapped out of the way and squawked again. Valna shook her head and busied herself cleaning her long knives.

“What now?” I asked. “We can’t see the High King until Katja gets here, so what are we supposed to do?”

“Wait,” she said without looking up and the room filled with the dry rasp of a whetstone being put to use.

I looked around the house. The prospect of being trapped inside until Runar came back made the shadows press in around me.

“I’m going for a walk.”

“Oh, that sounds fun,” Valna said, pausing the scrape of stone on steel. “Would you like some company?”

“No,” I said, then saw Valna’s expression crumple. “Thank you, I’d like to be alone.”

Valna nodded slowly then turned back to her knives. I went over to where I had shoved my possessions and pulled out my weapons.

“What are you doing?” Valna said as I slipped my shield over one shoulder.

“Getting ready to go.”

“You don’t need any weapons,” Valna said and laughed. “You’re in Konvald. No one’s going to attack you.”

I stared at her with disbelief.

“If you wear that, you’ll just draw attention to yourself and all the guards will pester you.”

My jaw bunched. I disliked the idea of heading out without my axe and shield, but I couldn’t afford to be noticed and dragged to the nearest law-keepers.

“Fine,” I said and put my things back on the floor. After a moment’s hesitation, I picked up a knife from the table and slipped it through my belt.

“Here,” Valna said and threw a pouch at me. It landed on the floor with the tell-tale jangle of coin.

“What’s this?” I said as I picked it up.

“I’m not using the money, so consider it a gift. Well, a loan.” She shot me a shy smile. “You know, in case you want to get anything nice at the market. Just try not to spend it all, okay?”

“Thank you.” The weight felt good at my belt as though I had regained some measure of independence, borrowed as it may be.

“And don’t piss anyone off,” Valna called out in a sing-song voice, “not everyone is as nice as me.”

I smiled at her as I left the house.

I retraced our steps from the day before and soon found myself at the market. Morning mist still lay heavy on the ground. It felt like walking through a ghost-world as buildings and people appeared out of the mist like apparitions. The few people who braved the cold this early were wrapped in furs and had cloaks pulled tight against the insistent mist and frost. Most people gave me sideways glances and I realised that I was only wearing a tunic and trousers. Another mark of the bitter Windborn blood now flowing in my veins.

When I examined the stalls of those traders willing to brave the cold I saw that this was not their best stock. I found bruised and half-rotten vegetables, clothes that had holes where the moths had found them, and the mugs and drinking horns I saw had uneven and cracked lips. These were merchants desperate to unload the last of their wares before the journey home. There were only a couple of people wandering through the stalls and they looked disinterested, picking up an item only to put it down once they found its inevitable flaw.

If the market had been more crowded, or if it had been later in the day, I might not have realised I was being followed. I snaked a route back and forth through the stalls, doubling back on myself here and there, but two figures matched me turn for turn. Their heavy cloaks hid their identities, but between the shouts of merchants I heard the unmistakable clink of weapons. I cursed myself for leaving my axe and shield back at the house.

I quickened my pace and ducked through a few more stalls, hoping to lose them in the low hanging cloth canopies, but when I emerged on the road, they were there.

Cursing, I turned down another path. They had cut me off from the house and I wouldn’t be able to get back without confronting them. I turned again, hoping that my random movements would throw them off.

The further I went, the more I lost my way. Each time I was about to disappear around a corner they saw me and quickly followed. Eventually, I came to an alley where the sides of three houses pushed together into a dead-end. A few boxes and barrels leaned against one of the buildings. As I went to climb one of the boxes and escape over the houses the two figures swept into view, as sure of themselves as the tide.

They paused when they saw me. I turned and drew my knife.

“What do you want?”

They shifted their feet and they were no longer standing idly at the end of the alleyway but stood battle-ready, blocking my escape. The eager mist curled around our feet. I took a step towards them to give myself room to manoeuvre if it came to it.

“This is the one?” asked the one on the right. His voice ground out like it was being dragged over jagged rocks.

The figure on the left nodded and pulled out a stone from within his cloak. The stone glowed in his palm and he moved his hand from right to left. As the stone pointed towards me the light flared then dimmed as it was turned away from me. I frowned then cursed myself for being so foolish and looked down at the rune-mark on my arm. It was cracked and broken, but the parts that remained glowed in response to the stone. I couldn’t let them take me back to the Althing. Soren was here. I needed to be here, not to the south wasting words with law-keepers.

“This is her,” the left figure said. His voice was softer, almost friendly.

“You gonna come quietly?” the first said.

“The law-keepers sent us all the way from the Althing to bring you in,” said the softly-spoken man. He pocketed the stone and drew his sword with his other hand. “Let’s do this the easy way so we can get some rest.”

“I’m not going back there,” I said and drew myself up to my full height. “Now fuck off.”

“It’s not a question of where you’re going. It’s a question of how hard you make it for us.” said the friendly one. “You’re coming with us one way or the other. Isn’t that right, Bardi?”

The other one, Bardi, growled. He took a step towards me and pulled an axe from inside his cloak.

“My ineloquent friend is right. There’re two ways to do this. You come with us nice and easy and we take you to the law-keepers, or I let Bardi do it the hard way.”

I took my eyes off the two thugs to check the ground between us. The mist still swirled around our feet, but it was thin enough I could see the hard mud underneath.

In the moment that I took my eyes off them, one of them leapt at me. I didn’t see who. Their shadow flickered ahead of me. I leaned back, but the blade sliced through the bridge of my nose.

I raised my knife to parry the next blow, but it didn’t come. Both men were out of reach. The friendly one flicked his sword. Its tip was speckled red. I gritted my teeth and covered my nose with my hand, letting ice flow out and over my wounded nose.

“Ofri,” the gruff one said, reproachful. “You said I could fight this one.”

“She took her eyes off us, Bardi, you want me to miss that kind of opportunity?”

Bardi growled again and stalked forward.

“You don’t want to do this,” I said.

They glanced at each other and I pushed ice out to the floor, hoping they wouldn’t notice the slow shining growth.

“We do,” the gruff one said with a wicked smile.

“We got paid a lot of money to bring you in. It’ll set us up for a long time.”

“A year. Maybe more.”

They moved apart with cautious steps to encircle me. I jabbed at them with my knife as they reached the sides of the alleyway and managed to keep them both in front of me. As I thrust with my right hand, I covered my left palm in a coating of ice. The rune-mark was splintered, weak. It flared and sank fangs into me, but I forced my Windborn powers through its jaws.

They attacked.

Bardi yelled and swung his axe at my head. The swing was wild, too erratic to be anything but a distraction. I stepped out of reach, knowing it would take me in range of the swift, precise swing of Ofri’s sword. I spun around and caught Ofri’s attack on my ice-covered hand.

The ice split with a crack and his sword bit into my palm. I gripped the blade, encased it in ice and pulled hard. Ofri tumbled forward. I thrust the knife at his falling chest, but it was knocked wide as Bardi’s axe buried itself in my shoulder.

Crying out in pain and anger, I swung around, dragging the sword with me, and punched Bardi as hard as I could. He was thrown off his feet, still gripping the axe, which ripped out of me.

Ofri tugged on his sword and it sliced out of my bloody grip. He slipped on the icy ground before trying to roll onto his feet, but couldn’t and slid into his friend.

Blood seeped down my back. It burned hot against my frozen skin.

The two thugs helped each other up and looked at me with fresh determination. I had thrown them about and blocked their first attacks, but I was bloodied and they were only bruised.

“Not bad,” Ofri said and gave me an appraising nod. “Now, the way I see it, you’ve got three options. You can try to run, but we will find you. You could try and win this, but you are outmatched. You might have got a couple of hits in, but you’re not the first Windborn we’ve brought in, and now we know your trick.”

The other one grunted and pulled another axe from beneath his cloak.

“Or,” Ofri continued, picking shards of ice from his sword, “you can surrender and make this a lot easier for everyone.”

He finished picking at his sword, inspected it, and then cocked an eyebrow at me.

I swapped the knife to my uninjured hand and shook my arm to try and get the feeling back. My fingers were too numb to be of much use so I punched a hole in a barrel lid and fused my fist to it with a sheet of ice. I raised the makeshift shield ahead of me and bared my teeth.

“Let’s get this over with,” I said.

Ofri sighed and pulled out a knife. Bardi grinned and advanced.

They came at me again faster, stronger than before. I managed to ward off the axes with the shield, but the knife and sword were too quick to parry with my small knife. As the blades found my flesh, red sprouted across my arm like leaves in the spring.

I clenched my jaw against the pain and threw my shield into Bardi to push him off balance. As he reeled, I swung the makeshift shield into Ofri’s side. Ofri’s dagger whipped out viper-fast and stabbed deep into my stomach before the shield crashed into him with a crack of wood and ribs and sent him stumbling.

I kicked away his weapons and pushed my foot down on his chest. Drawing on my pain and fury, I thrust my Windborn power out and fixed Ofri to the floor with a coat of ice. The rune-mark blazed and thrashed against my power, biting into my marrow, but with a yell I forced it through. I turned to face Bardi, breathing heavy and with a chill seeping into my rune-marked arm.

“Only you and me now, Windborn. Just how I wanted it. Ofri only gets in the way.”

Bardi wiped the blood from his chin and grinned. He raised his axes and waited. I bared my teeth and tried to breathe through the pain of the wound in my stomach and the thousand slices on my arms, but each breath sent fresh spasms of agony coursing through me.

“Come on, Windborn,” Bardi growled. “I thought you were supposed to be tougher than this.”

I focused on my frozen, numb core and forced it to spread. Cold found the wound in my stomach. Ice reached my arms. My pain lessened. Then the frost found the rune-mark and a fresh wave of nauseous pain shivered through my bones.

Without taking my eyes from Bardi, I reached down and picked up the sword. It was lighter than the weapons I was used to, but it was better than my knife.

Bardi grinned.

His axes slammed into my barrel-lid shield and I felt it coming apart in my hands. I took another hit on the shield, then stepped back and let the next swing fly wide.

Bardi narrowed his eyes, but couldn’t stop his momentum. I swept the sword around, toward his face.

The hafts of the axes met the blade. The edge bit into the heavy wood and for a moment we tugged at each other. He was strong, but not as strong as a Windborn. I twisted the sword and ripped the axes from his hands.

He let go before the force took him with it and threw one, two punches at me. They collided with my stomach, knocking the breath out of me and doubling me over.

I threw my shoulder forward into Bardi’s belly and knocked him to the floor. He clawed at my back, trying to throw me off, but I weathered the gouges.

I brought the shield up high, and then smashed it down on his head. The shield splintered and broke. I raised my hands to hit him again, but he was unconscious so I let my arms fall to my sides.

Standing, I sucked in the cool morning air then winced. It felt like I had inhaled a thousand thorns that stabbed at my lungs from the inside.

The ice held Ofri fast and his eyes were unfocused. He wasn’t a threat. I paused to lock Bardi to the floor in the same frozen cage. They looked like the corpses dredged from frozen seas that would fight for the Winds in the war that ends the world. I blinked away tears and thanked the Sea Giants that Bjolfur had been saved from that fate.

I moved to the end of the alley and leaned against one of the buildings. I tugged my tunic to unstick it from my bloody wounds and sucked in a breath as it caught on the half-dried blood and pulled my skin. People had begun to leave their houses to start the day, though they did not seem to have heard the fight, or perhaps they simply didn’t care. I pushed myself back up and eventually retraced my steps back to the house, thankful now for the lack of crowds to stare at my bloodied, shambling self.

 

*

 

I did not leave the house again.

Valna washed my wounds and found me fresh clothes. She kept apologising for letting me go out alone. I waved her off, but her expression was pained for the rest of the day. She dragged some sheepskins into a corner to give me a place to lie down. I eased myself onto the soft furs and drifted in and out of sleep. Each time I woke the pain was less and by the next day there was only a dull ache soaked into my muscles with a spear-shard pain in my stomach.

“How are you feeling? You slept right through the night.”

Valna crouched by the fire in the centre of the room, poking a spoon into a pot hanging above the flames.

“Still aching.”

“I’m not surprised.”

She dipped the spoon into the pot and blew on it before tasting it.

“You woke up just in time for porridge.”

I grimaced and stretched my stiff muscles. They felt like they would snap if I pushed them too far. Valna spooned out two steaming bowls.

“Who were they?”

“Who?” I kept the bowl cupped in my hands. The heat felt good against my cold fingers.

Valna rolled her eyes. “The people that attacked you. You never said. You just sort of collapsed.”

“Their names were Bardi and Ofri, I think. They said they’d hunted me from the Althing. I was supposed to go and see a law-keeper for attacking Soren in the arena. I... forgot with everything else that was going on. I guess the law-keepers didn’t, though.”

Valna’s spoon stopped halfway to her mouth and her expression had darkened.

“I remember them. They’re vicious. The law-keepers must really want to bring you in if that’s who they picked.”

“I told them I couldn’t go with them, but they didn’t listen.”

“Sounds about right. From what I hear they don’t usually let you get your side of the story out. You did well to get away from them.”

I shrugged before turning my attention back to the porridge.

Valna seemed to have retreated into thought and my wounds troubled me enough that I was happy with that. The ache was tolerable and small enough that I could ignore it but the scabs plagued me. The myriad wounds on my arms were already healed over with clear ice. They caught the firelight as I lifted the spoon to my mouth and seemed to spark as though flames were trapped inside. When I finished eating, I ran a finger along my stomach to feel the stab wound and though I felt the torn flesh there were patches of smooth, frozen scarring.

Valna took my empty bowl and went outside to pull water from the well. I took the opportunity whilst I was alone to check my old scars.

I rolled up my sleeve and found the mark I was looking for. One of the last wounds I had taken whilst raiding when I had leapt in front of an arrow to protect Bjolfur. It was the last time I had been able to protect my husband. I ran my finger around the scar on my forearm. The skin, which should have been rough to the touch, was cold and smooth. I twisted my arm and the first crystals of ice caught in the firelight. Black-feathered grief tightened around my heart once again. I had always considered my scars earned imperfections that made up the threads of my soul, my very being. But if the Wind inside could take my scars, what else could it take? It seemed that with each step I took as a Windborn part of me was lost, smothered never to return.

The door banged open, sending the fire flinching away from the wind and shadows scurrying across the walls. I pulled my sleeve down. Runar stepped into the room, clapping his hands together to banish the cold from them.

He nodded to me and then peered around the room. “Where’s Valna?”

“Fetching water.”

He nodded again and moved over to the long table and picked at the bread and nuts.

“Did you find her?”

“Aye,” he said, then did a double-take as though noticing me for the first time. He stepped closer, eyes ringed with concern. “What happened?”

Before I could reply Valna appeared at the other end of the room brandishing a spoon, but she relaxed when she saw Runar.

“I thought I heard voices, and after yesterday, I thought I should make sure they were friendly.”

“Yesterday?” Runar looked between us, frowning. “What happened yesterday?”

“I had a run-in with some thugs, nothing to worry about.”

“Thugs?”

“Bardi and Ofri,” Valna supplied in hushed tones. “Edda said they chased her all the way from the Althing.”

Runar’s eyes went wide. He stopped eating and came over to examine my wounds. I stood and brushed past him to pick at the food on the table.

“You fought them off? And you’re okay?”

“Just about.”

Runar gave a slow nod. “They’re a couple of bastards. Probably best if you let one of us come too if you want to go out into the town, just in case.”

I shrugged, indifferent but accepting.

“Why were they after you?” Runar asked.

I tugged up my sleeve and showed him the rune-mark. The letters, which had once been black and thick, were cracked and broken. The skin around them was raw and blistered.

“After I nearly killed Soren in the arena, I was supposed to go and speak with the law-keepers to decide my punishment. One of the god-speakers put this on me to limit my Windborn abilities. They’ve given Bardi and Ofri something to track me using the rune-mark. They said they were here to bring me in.”

Runar scowled at the rune-mark. “Can we get it off?”

I shrugged.

“We’d better try. We can’t fight them if they come for you. They’ll get law-keepers and huskalar and we will give you up. I don’t want to, but we’d have to. It’d set Erling against the High King and we can’t afford that.”

The thought of facing Ofri and Bardi again made my bones ache but I felt a wave of gratitude that Runar wanted me to stay. To hear that I was needed from another Windborn, from someone who understood what it was like to die and keep walking, felt like I had finally found an ally in this fight. I looked from Runar’s thunderous expression and down to the raw skin on my forearm. The rune-mark was shattered, unable to withstand all of the Windborn power that I had been pushing through it. Perhaps its hold on me was weakened and I would be able to remove it entirely.

I grabbed a knife from the table and sat on one of the benches. I pressed the edge of the blade against my skin and scraped across it as though I was shaving a pig ready to butcher. The knife caught on the rune-mark and carved off a little of the dried tar. I tried again and again and each time a small part of the rune-mark came away. It was not a perfect process as I also sliced away a little of myself with some clumsy attempts, but little by little the rune-mark was fading.

“Did you find Katja?” Valna said once I had set myself to the task of carving away the rune-mark.

“I did. She got passage on a longship. It’ll put in at Konvald soon. By the time I found her it had gotten dark so I stayed overnight.”

Valna nodded and went over to her knives, checking their shine and sharpness in the light.

“So we wait for her here?” she asked.

“No. We’ll meet her by the docks. I’ll get myself clean, then we’ll go.”

He threw his mud-stained cloak into a corner and went out to the well. A moment later we heard the creak of the pulley and splash of water.

I ran my thumb over my forearm to check the skin for any traces of the rune-mark. It was raw and bleeding, but there was nothing left of that rainbow tar. Then, taking inspiration from Valna and learning the lesson from my still aching body, I checked my weapons. The shield had seen better days, its edges charred and with chunks taken out of the carved figures, but it was still usable. My axe needed sharpening and there was some rust starting to encroach the back of it.

“Valna, can I borrow your whetstone?”

“Sure.”

She rummaged through her own pile and then tossed me the grained stone. The steady scrape of stone on steel woke up the raven in the rafters and it squawked indignantly at me. Slowly, I put down the whetstone and picked up a pebble from the muddy floor. Without taking my eyes from the bird I hefted the stone and threw it up into the rafters. The bird cried out as the stone clipped its tail feathers. I smiled as it began to hop above me, cawing and crying as though reprimanding me.

Runar came back into the room. “That water is cold,” he said. “I almost wish that fiery Windborn was here.”

He shot me a grin.

“No?” he said, deflating. “Okay, not ready for jokes. That’s fine.”

“The only time I want to talk about him is if we’re discussing how to kill him,” I growled back.

Runar held up his hands in surrender. “Okay. Okay.”

We made ourselves ready to leave. Runar and Valna wrapped themselves up in cloaks and furs. I didn’t dress for warmth but put on a cloak before I picked up my shield, axe, and two knives from the table.

“Expecting trouble?” Runar said.

“I wasn’t expecting it yesterday.”

He and Valna shared a look—a silent reminder that even though I travelled with them, I wasn’t yet one of them—then led us outside.

The wind whipped at cloaks and pulled down people’s hoods. Dark clouds gathered above us and rain began to spit down as we made our way through the city. It seemed that people feared the wind more than they wanted to run their errands as the streets were just as quiet as they were the previous morning. Half of the market stalls had closed and I wasn’t surprised to see the rest of the merchants packing up. We soon turned onto the main road from the High King’s halls to the docks and I saw a glimmer of blue in the distance.

“Why are people avoiding you, Edda?” Runar said out of the corner of his mouth.

I took my eyes from the end of the road and looked around.

“I don’t know. I was bloodied up after the fight yesterday, maybe they recognise me?”

The people bustling past us cast suspicious glances in my direction. I hunched my shoulders and pulled my cloak closed to try and hide in its folds. They kept their heads low and only turned when they thought we weren’t watching. As my shield bounced on my shoulder, I began to wish I had left it in the house. Most whispered to each other and then hurried on.

“I don’t like it,” Runar rumbled. “Have you got a hood on that cloak?”

“No.”

“Then try and keep your head down.”

Runar and Valna sped up and I fell in behind them, trying to use their bodies as a screen. I unbraided and tussled my hair so that it fell forward and obscured my face. There were still so many people doing their best not to stare at me, I felt as though I were being paraded down the road.

We arrived at the docks and the knots in my shoulders loosened as I anticipated being able to lose myself in the crowds of strangers and sailors. People called out everywhere; confirming how many barrels needed to come off the ship or still needed to go on. Others advertised vacant berths on their ships before they cast off to get ahead of the fjord freezing for the winter.

“What do we do now?” I said, careful to keep my voice low despite the cacophony all around us.

“We wait for Katja.”

“No, I mean, after that. I can go back and gather our things.”

“What? No. Stay here. This won’t take long. Katja said some of the law-keepers agreed to help us, but we need to get proof before they’ll do that.”

“They want more proof than they got at the Althing?” I scoffed.

“Apparently,” Runar said, still distracted. He floated a couple of hand-spans above the ground and craned his neck to look for Katja. The crowd around us murmured and took a few steps away from us. “I didn’t get the details out of Katja on the boat. It wasn’t exactly private. I don’t want you going off on your own if Bardi and Ofri are around and looking for you.”

I scowled but took half a step closer to Runar. My hand strayed to the pouch of coins that Valna had given me. Some of the merchants were selling whatever they didn’t want to take on the journey back. I craned my neck to find something that would help me hide.

“Ah, there she is.”

Runar floated back down to the floor and beckoned us forward. He pushed gently through the crowd and led us to one of the far jetties.

Katja stood on the ship, arguing with an older man. He was jabbing a finger at an outstretched palm. When he noticed us he threw an indignant wave in our direction as though we proved whatever point he was making. Katja shook her head and folded her arms. Her cheeks looked flushed and she responded calmly to the agitated man who gave her a sour look. Money changed hands and Katja walked down to us as the older man counted his coins.

“Katja,” Runar said, turning between us. “You remember—”

“The bastard tried to charge me extra because of you. He said we agreed on a price for three passengers and with you stopping off, that made it four. Bloody arse.”

“Did you... I...” Runar stuttered.

“Don’t worry, I gave him an extra couple of coins, nothing too much.”

Katja took a few deep breaths and her burning cheeks dimmed, or at least as much as can be expected in the winter air. She turned around to watch someone holding a piece of slate and some chalk bustle up to the ship’s captain and then come over to us.

“You were a passenger on the Wave Cutter?” the woman holding the slate said to Katja, completely ignoring us.

“I was.”

“Your name and business in the city.”

She hunched over the slate, chalk at the ready, oblivious of Katja’s thunderous expression.

“Law-Keeper Katja, for King Erling. Our business is to supply ourselves for the journey home and to seek counsel from the High King’s advisors.”

The note-taker scribbled along with Katja’s words, then nodded and hurried away. Two more figures made their way off the longship, one carrying a sack over one shoulder and the other holding a shield.

“Over here, Muli, Ljot.”

The figures glanced over and the shield-bearer tipped his head in acknowledgement. The other, a woman wearing a fur-lined cloak, wrapped Valna in a hug. With a start, I realised that this was the woman I had seen in Dagnur’s hall, beseeching him for help.

“Muli, it’s good to see you,” Runar said and slapped a hand on the man’s shoulder.

The man tottered to one side and nearly toppled over. “Good to see you too, Runar. You’ve saved me some beer, right?”

Runar laughed and took the sack. “Have you ever known me to run out of beer?”

Katja turned back to us, shaking her head. “Come on.”

With a gesture, she hurried us on and back towards the house.

“You didn’t catch him then?” Katja said back to me. “Runar told me you met him outside the city but things got out of hand.”

“He had friends,” I growled.

“It doesn’t matter now, they’re either long gone, or in the city. If they’re gone then we might as well head home, and if they’re in the city then there’s nothing we can do to catch them.”

“Edda’s still not sworn to anyone,” Runar said, then leaned in and whispered: “Wasn’t the whole point of this to catch Soren without actually tying it to us?”

“Maybe before, but everyone’s seen Edda with us, and now we can’t risk sending Edda out alone. There are still people who would try and take an unsworn Windborn for the bounty, and you know how strict the High King is with Windborn walking around the city.”

“Where were you yesterday?” I mumbled.

“What?” Katja spun to face me, stopping me in my tracks. “What do you mean?”

“I had a run-in with a couple of thugs. Bardi and Ofri. I fought them off. It’s fine.”

Katja looked, wide-eyed and intense from me, then to Runar and Valna. The other two Windborn had their heads down to avoid her gaze.

“What’s the big deal? They didn’t get me.”

“Shit. Did you know about this?” she asked Runar.

“I only found out when I got back here. It happened when I was with you.”

Katja sighed and looked to the sky, tugging her cheeks in frustration. The noise of the docks died away, I assumed it was because we had started to argue in the middle of the road, but a new sound simmered under the quiet, a steady jingle of moving metal.

“Those two aren’t thugs. They hunt Windborn for the law-keepers,” Katja said. “I thought they were at the Althing. Why did they come after you?”

I looked away to avoid Katja’s gaze.

“I was supposed to meet a law-keeper and they followed me using a rune-mark, but I’ve got rid of it.” I showed her my forearm, complete with frosted scabs. “They won’t be able to find me now.”

“Ah, shit,” Katja said. “They won’t be coming for you alone now. You didn’t kill them, did you?”

“No, I just knocked them out.”

“Fuck. If you’d have killed them then there wouldn’t have been any witnesses. We need to get back to the house, now.”

The thumping grew louder. I peered through the heads of my companions. Sunlight glinted from a spear tip. The others noticed the tension in the air and turned.

A group of six heavily armoured warriors approached us. Each one was outfitted with a helm, steel shoulder guards, and carried a painted round shield. From the jingling sounds of them as they all came to a stop together, I suspected they wore chain shirts underneath their furs.

Katja swore once more under her breath, then stepped forward, smiling.

“Hail, huskalar, what joyous news brings you to us today?”

The lead huskalar narrowed her eyes at Katja, stepped forward, and gestured with her spear at the rest of us.

“Still your tongue, law-keeper. No joyous news could drag huskalar from defending the High King. We have been told of an unsworn Windborn wandering the city, she matches your companion’s description. She nearly killed two honourable citizens as they tried to do their duty to the High King and bring her to justice.”

Katja turned, with great exaggeration, and looked Valna up and down and motioned to her iron arm-ring. “I am afraid you have the wrong person. Valna is sworn to King Erling and has been for years. Perhaps these two honourable citizens have been mugged and concocted a story to preserve their dignity?”

“Do not try me, law-keeper,” the lead huskalar growled. “You will give us the unsworn Windborn or we will take all of you.”

I bristled and let my hand drift towards my axe. A couple of the huskalar saw the movement and shifted the grips on their spears. Runar put his hand on my forearm and gave a minute shake of the head.

Katja’s mouth opened and closed. She looked back at me and then to the huskalar. There was no way I was getting out of this without bloodshed, and if I did manage to escape I would be hunted and left with no way to find Soren. I shrugged at Katja. She sighed and stepped out of the way. The lead huskalar nodded to her followers and two of them came forward as though to grab me.

“I’ll come along,” I said. I pulled my arm away from one of them, causing them to stumble. “But I won’t be dragged.”

The one that stumbled squared up to me, as though to save face, but the leader cut across whatever he was going to say.

“Let’s take her to her prison cell.”

The huskalar gestured with their spears and led me away, trapped within their armoured escort.

 

*

 

They locked me in a shed. They said it was a prison cell, but someone had forgotten to take out the dried fish hanging from the ceiling and there was old food scattered across the floor. Somewhere along the way one of the huskalar decided that I needed to be tied up and had bound my wrists. It hadn’t occurred to them that I could freeze and smash the ropes or simply rip them apart with my Windborn strength. It felt like I had been locked away for hours, although it was hard to tell as the rain-soaked sky cast no shadows. To take my mind off whatever punishments they had in store for me, I examined the fish heads gaping down at me like shocked bystanders.

Could they prove I was the Windborn that Ofri and Bardi wanted now that the rune-mark was gone? If not, could they execute me for assault? Surely they wouldn’t, not even if the perpetrator was a Windborn. It occurred to me that the true crime may not be the injuries I inflicted onto the two bounty hunters, they knew the risks of confronting a Windborn, perhaps the real crime was being unsworn.

I shook my head and squinted up again. One of the fish twisted slowly from side to side.

I couldn’t remember any stories of Windborn executions. How would they do it, if that was to be my punishment? If they drowned me then maybe it wouldn’t matter that I was Windborn, maybe I would still become one of the Blessed Drowned. I could join Bjolfur.

Again, I shook my head. Distracting myself with fish wasn’t working. I looked at the floor and examined the leftover food. Rinds of bread with tiny teeth marks littered the edges of the shed. My stomach rumbled. All I had eaten that day was porridge. I knelt on the soft floor and leaned closer to the bread rind. It didn’t look too old. It was hard to the touch, but I couldn’t see any mould.

Voices from outside.

I tried to stand up, but the door opened before I could manage it and I ended up on one knee before the lead huskalar.

“Good to see you’re learning some respect in here,” she said with a smirk.

“The fish convinced me.”

Her smile disappeared. She looked up, following my gaze, then rolled her eyes.

“Get up. Time to see the High King.”

She yanked me up by the elbow and led me towards the High King’s mead-hall. She shoved me forwards and I stumbled underneath the overhanging roof at the mead-hall’s entrance. We waited before two massive wooden doors covered in intricate carvings detailing various myths and legends. Heavy iron hinges cut across the middle of the doors and were worked into the design so that the hinges became a line drawn across the saga-carvings: below the hinges the carvings told of the god-war and the exile of the Winds, the carvings above told of the first humans and the time of heroes.

“Be quick,” the huskalar said, though not to me.

I turned. Katja was standing in the shadows and she nodded at the huskalar.

“Thank you,” she said.

The huskalar nodded and disappeared back the way we had come.

“What’s going on?”

Katja looked at me and sighed. “We’ve managed to convince them to hear your case with me as your law-keeper.”

“Good. Why are you saying that like it’s a bad thing?”

“Because it means that instead of this being a simple execution this is now a full-blown law dispute. It does mean that I get to argue your case, but it also means that Ofri and Bardi get to make a case against you. And they know the laws about Windborn inside and out.”

“Against me? Why? They attacked me.”

“To bring you back to the Althing,” Katja sighed again. “Without your rune-mark, it will be difficult to prove you’re the Windborn they were sent after. It’s their word against yours. In any other court this might even things out, but the High King hates Windborn.”

My mouth twisted into a grimace and I nodded.

The High King was an almost fanatical follower of the gods and had always been cautious of Windborn, seeing them as avatars of the gods’ ancient enemies, but could not deny their usefulness. Indeed, he had used them to great effect in his war of unification. A decade or so before, when a rebellious Windborn attacked Konvald his mistrust had become hatred. The reasons behind the attack had become muddied over the years. Some skalds said it was to usurp the High King, others said it was an act of revenge for a grave insult, and other stories—the most popular ones—said the Windborn was driven mad by unrequited love. Whatever the reasons, the results were always the same: the Windborn destroyed parts of the city before he could be stopped. In the destruction the High King’s wife was killed and his young daughter was crippled. From then on, the High King had used Windborn as tools with brutal efficiency and disgust. I had always understood the High King’s hatred of Windborn and having lost my husband I would not begrudge it to him, but I had never thought I would be on the receiving end of it.

“We’ve got a little time until the High King calls us in.” Katja took my shoulders and turned me to face her, looking me dead in the eyes. “Bardi and Ofri have just finished giving their testimony and now we’re going to give ours. I need you to tell me exactly what happened, Edda. Don’t leave anything out. I’ve seen it happen hundreds of times, one person leaves out a tiny detail and it loses them the judgement.”

“I understand.”

I told her as much as I could remember, from when I stepped out of the house until I got back and passed out. Katja’s expression stayed grim and intense for the entire story and when I was done she nodded. She opened her mouth, but the door opened and a huskalar beckoned impatiently at us. Katja smoothed her robes and made to step into the mead-hall.

“Katja, wait.”

She paused and frowned at me. I bit my lip, reluctant to ask the question that burned in my chest in case Katja decided I would be better on my own.

“Why are you helping me?”

Katja sighed and her expression softened. “Runar asked me to help and, you know, it’s not right that Soren gets away when he’s the one who broke the law.” She smiled and patted my arm. “We’ll get through this, just let me do the talking, okay?”

Once again I felt a rush of gratitude for Runar’s actions. I had been crumbling like a storm-thrashed cliff face for what felt like forever. To finally be with people, with Windborn, who stood by me kept me from collapsing completely.

I returned Katja’s smile and followed her inside. People crowded on either side of the long, dimly lit feast hall. Some sat on benches and more stood behind them. They whispered to each other as soon as we stepped inside. Some of them pointed, looking me up and down as though I were a spectacle brought out for their enjoyment. As we moved further into the hall fewer people were crammed in. Their clothes became less mud-stained, the cloths brighter and embroidered, until the crowds were replaced by armoured huskalar. Then we stood in front of the raised platform of the High King.

Katja stopped a few paces from the platform and I stepped up beside her. The High King sat on a carved throne, draped in a fine purple cloak. He turned to the woman behind him and his crown glinted in the torchlight. The woman, dressed in earthen tones with scrolls and parchments stuffed under her arm, sported the silver arm-ring of a law-keeper. The High King turned back to us and peered down at me. He looked older than I thought he would, even though I couldn’t remember when he took the throne, his white hair fell limp over his shoulders. The shining jewels and glittering gold that adorned him, rather than giving him an aura of power and authority, only served to contrast his pallid skin and ragged breathing.

“We have heard the testimony of the witnesses,” the High King’s frayed voice cut through the murmurings of the hall. He gestured to two men stood to one side, Bardi and Ofri. “We would hear yours.”

Katja stepped forward and cleared her throat. The High King narrowed his eyes and waved a hand at her.

“We would hear from the Windborn, law-keeper, she is unsworn and alone. Do not help her.”

Panic sparked in my chest and Katja looked back at me wide-eyed. On the opposite side of the hall, Ofri and Bardi whispered amongst themselves, grinning. I would not be able to defend myself if I had to do it alone. My skills were with iron and earth, battle and farming, not words.

The law-keeper behind the High King leaned in and whispered something in his ear. The High King scowled then waved them away.

“Speak, law-keeper,” the High King wheezed.

Relief flooded through me and I saw some of the tension leave Katja’s frame.

“Thank you, High King. I understand that the two bounty hunters are styling themselves as victims, faultless in this as a tree in a storm, but I would put to you that this is nothing more than self-defence. These two followed Edda through the marketplace and cornered her in an alley, where they pounced on her like common thieves.

“Even if Edda is the Windborn they seek, would it not have been better for these predators to come to you first? Would it not have been better for all—for the inhabitants of the city, for the bounty hunters, and for you—if they had come to tell you first, High King, that they had reason to believe this Windborn is who they sought? The destructive powers of the Windborn are well known. It was lucky for the city that they attacked Edda and not some other Windborn. She left them unconscious rather than dead, and the damage to property was minimal.

“I am sure that your huskalar told you how readily Edda submitted to their authority earlier today. Surely, if these bounty hunters had alerted you to an unsworn Windborn’s presence it would have been safer for all and they would still have received the bounty.”

The High King narrowed his eyes and stared down at us over his steepled fingers.

“And you, Windborn? Would you have submitted to my huskalar if they had come for you?”

I thought back to that moment on the docks. I had itched to fight, to break through and escape, but the thought of being hunted had stopped me. Would I have been so ready with my axe if I had been on my own? If they had come for me in the marketplace, would I have fought?

“Yes, High King. I know that you are an honourable and just ruler and would have gladly submitted myself to your judgement.”

The High King gave a slow nod. I hoped that my pause had been enough to convince him of my sincerity.

On the other side of the hall, Ofri stepped forward. “Whether or not this Windborn acted in self-defence or marched through the streets screaming a war chant is irrelevant. She is unsworn and ran from judgement at the Althing. We were sent to apprehend her. She’s no better than an outlaw. The punishment is clear.”

The word outlaw reverberated through the assembled crowds and hushed conversations blossomed in the shadows. The word touched on the fears in everyone’s hearts: outlaws were remorseless figures that lived in the wilds and only sought civilisation when they were hungry, like wolves. It was a powerful word, one that sent children scurrying to their mothers’ skirts, and he had focused it on me.

Fear flashed in my chest, the same fear that I saw in the eyes of those around me, but it was quickly followed by a rush of anger. How dare he compare me to an outlaw? Those hard-hearted villains had chosen to defy the laws and had paid the price. It had not been my choice to become Windborn, but I had been forced to sacrifice everything I loved. My home. My husband. My life.

“It is true, High King,” Katja said, almost shouting to be heard over the crowd, “that any new Windborn have until the end of the next Althing to find themselves a new home, or risk becoming outlaws, but Edda has found that. She has agreed to come with us and swear to Erling.”

“And what of the fact that this Windborn fled the judgement of the Althing, law-keeper?”

Katja glanced nervously at me and my scabbed forearm.

“I cannot speak to that, High King. These men say that they hunted a Windborn from Althing, but I cannot see a rune-mark on Edda and cannot say that she is the Windborn they sought.”

The High King leaned back in his throne.

“Perhaps there is no rune-mark now, law-keeper, but I see plenty of new scars.” He turned to the law-keeper standing with him. “What does the law say about unsworn Windborn?”

The woman behind the throne jumped. She stood at attention and recited: “Any person who becomes Windborn has until the end of the next Althing to swear into the household of another. If the Windborn fails to do so, it will be assumed they have succumbed to the urges of the Winds within them and will be considered outlaw, except that the bounty on said Windborn shall be triple the usual outlaw bounty. If—”

“That’s enough,” the High King wheezed. “The law is clear, law-keeper.” The High King bared his teeth on the final word. “She is a Windborn outlaw. I will overlook this issue of who attacked who, whether it was self-defence, and if this Windborn has carved the rune-mark from her skin. She stands before me now and that is all that matters.”

“I only became Windborn in the week before the Althing,” I said, desperate to find some crack in the arguments. “Surely that isn’t enough time for me to find a household to swear into?”

The High King, who had been forcibly ignoring me, turned and sneered down at me.

“You made it to the Althing, did you not? I don’t care if you became Windborn the day before the Althing, it goes on long enough that you can make your way there. I will not have unsworn Windborn wandering my lands with their own agendas and taking whatever they like from those who are unable to protect themselves.”

“But I wasn’t told. My law-keeper didn’t know about the laws of the Windborn. We were forced to travel to the Althing to find them out.”

“Is she not your law-keeper? You are not from Erling’s lands?”

“No, not originally. Before... before I became Windborn, I was a farmer near the coast, under Dagnur Olafson.”

“And who is this Dagnur sworn to?”

“You, High King, he manages your holdings in the fjords by the Kjaltonn islands.”

The High King pursed his lips. He looked back from the bounty hunters and then to Katja and me.

“Why does one of my own law-keepers not know of the laws concerning Windborn?”

I swallowed, Ingvar had helped me and I did not want him to feel the brunt of the High King’s ire. “He was eager to help and to learn all he could once I became Windborn, but he had barely finished his apprenticeship when Dagnur took him on. Dagnur is renowned for his miserly ways and took Ingvar on because he was cheap.”

The High King sunk back into his chair and steepled his fingers again. The entire room held its breath as he considered.

“I should pay these men their bounty as their information has brought you into my custody, and then I should have you put to work. I am sure we have some mines that would appreciate a strong body that is unaffected by the cold. However, I have heard your testimony and I am displeased that one of my own people would be so concerned with coin that they hold it above the safety of my people.

“I will send another, experienced law-keeper with you and you will both go back to Dagnur Olafson’s hold and investigate this. If my law-keeper is able to verify your claims then you will be allowed to swear to Dagnur Olafson’s household. If not, then you will be considered an unsworn outlaw and you will be brought back here and given justice.”

“High King,” Katja said with a bow, “your judgement is—”

“No.” My voice echoed around the hall and all eyes in the room turned to me.

“No?” The High King sat up and raised an eyebrow at me. “I do not accept such statements from kings, why would I allow such from you, Windborn?”

Katja put a hand on my shoulder, shot me a pleading look, then turned back to the High King. “You should not, High King, I think it is just that the potential prospect of punish—”

“No,” I said again, ripping my shoulder from Katja’s grip. “High King, I urge you to send your law-keeper to investigate Dagnur Olafson. He is a petty man who has used what little power you have granted him to squeeze as much as he can from those he should be protecting. That is also why I cannot go back there.

“If you send me back to him then as soon as he is free of your law-keeper and no longer held to account, he will use my strength to squeeze those around him even harder. All that is left for me there are memories and exploitation.”

The High King narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips into a thin line. Katja closed her eyes and muttered a prayer under her breath over and over again.

“You seem to think that this is some kind of negotiation, Windborn. It is not. I do not care what you think is waiting for you in Dagnur Olafson’s household. You shall swear to him or you will find your justice, although at this point I think immediate execution would be easiest.”

A spark of fear and shock flitted up my spine. The hall had gone deathly quiet. Bardi and Ofri exchanged heated whispers, Bardi seemed to want to say something and Ofri was holding him back.

Katja put a hand on my shoulder again, this time pulling me back gently. “High King, if I might offer another solution?”

He tipped his head ever so slightly, not taking his blazing eyes from me.

“Edda was travelling with us so that we could take her into King Erling’s household. Let us take her with us when we leave. She will be out of your way and there will be no risk of her harbouring some grudge against your interests in Dagnur Olafson’s household.”

“Then why have you not already sworn her into Erling’s house?” His eyes moved from Katja and then back to me. “Should I be blaming you that there is an unsworn Windborn wandering my streets and causing fights?”

Katja closed her eyes and swallowed before she replied. “Yes, High King, I should have taken a preliminary oath from this Windborn at the Althing and given her some mark of her intention to swear to Erling. Perhaps this would have avoided the unfortunate incident with the two bounty hunters.

“But my first loyalty, as a law-keeper, is to you and your laws. I sent this Windborn on ahead of me with another of my companions in the hopes that she would reach Erling before the Althing ended and before she became an outlaw. I stayed at the Althing to speak with my fellow law-keepers and learn all I could about your new laws and precedents so that King Erling may rule as you wish. Your huskalar will tell you that Edda was apprehended at the docks because she was welcoming me as I arrived from the Althing.”

The High King looked to the law-keeper by his side, who nodded.

“So you would have me believe that it is because you are so diligent a law-keeper, you have failed in your duty?”

“I would not have chosen those words, High King, but yes.”

The High King snorted then leaned back in his throne, resting his chin on his chest and looking down on us with disconcerting intensity. As our arguments faded, the conversations in the hall became hushed and a tense finality filled the air.

The word execution echoed in my mind. Each time it bounced off the inside of my skull it seemed to grow louder. In its wake I felt the weight of all the things that I had not yet done. In my mind’s eye, Soren’s flames washed over my arms again and above me someone loomed, casting darkness over us. Hraki.

As the silence dragged out I became sure that the High King would send me for execution. I seeped cold out into the ropes binding my hands slow and gentle as a morning frost. They stiffened and began to glitter with brittle ice. I had been branded an outlaw, it would not make much difference now if I ran. An intake of breath from behind me. Maybe from Runar or Valna. I didn’t turn to look I only braced myself to tear free of the ropes.

“How long do you intend to stay in the city?” the High King asked Katja.

“Only as long as we need to get supplies and to charter our journey north. No longer than two or three days.”

“And Erling actually wants this Windborn as part of his household?”

“He has always asked me to look out for strong hands, especially as Hraki now pushes against his borders, and—”

“Quiet,” he snapped. “I have made my verdict regarding Hraki and Erling and I do not expect it to be brought up again.”

The High King’s eyes shifted to mine. Despite his advanced age, I felt the force of that gaze like the midsummer sun. It beat down on me and I felt as though I would burst into flames before he looked away, but I would not be cowed. I stood and stared right back at him. I put a little pressure on the ropes around my wrist and there was a minuscule sound of ice cracking.

“You may take her.”

Katja let out a breath and the High King took his gaze from me. I felt a weight lift from me like a boulder moving off my grave. My shoulders slumped in relief.

“Something tells me she would be more trouble than she’s worth,” he said to Katja. “You will take her from the city by nightfall. I will not have her here any longer than necessary.”

“Of course, High King.”

“What about us, High King?”

The entire room turned its attention over to Bardi and Ofri. Bardi had thrown off the restraining hand of his companion and had taken a few steps towards the High King’s platform.

“Will we still receive our money?”

The High King’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “You will receive the bounty, but we will take the cost of damages from it first. See to it.”

The law-keeper behind him nodded. Bardi and Ofri began spluttering objections but were silenced with a wave of the High King’s hand.

“If you had brought this to my attention without trying to solve the problem yourselves then there would be no damage to pay for. Be grateful that you are receiving anything at all.”

Bardi opened his mouth to protest, but Ofri grabbed him back and stepped forward in his place.

“Thank you, High King, you are most generous.”

They wandered away, grumbling to each other, and everyone’s attention turned back to us.

“To make sure you don’t wriggle out of this, Windborn, we will take your oath here.”

The High King whispered something to his law-keeper, who scurried away, and gestured Katja and I forward.

“Law-Keeper...”

“Katja, High King. Katja Sifsdottir.”

“Law-Keeper Katja, will you accept this Windborn into the House of Erling on behalf of your king?”

“I will, High King.”

“Then,” he twisted in his seat, looking for his returning law-keeper. She hurried back into view clutching something tight in her hands. “Is this all you could find? I’m not giving her gold. Give me your arm-ring.”

The law-keeper looked taken aback, but she did as she was told and slipped the twisted silver ring down from her arm and passed it over. The High King cleared his throat and sat straight in his throne.

“Then, bestow this arm-ring on the Windborn and consider her part of Erling’s household.”

Katja took the arm-ring from the High King. The arm-ring’s silver was woven in thick cords to form a nearly closed circle. She came back to me, moving slow as though she were trying to instil the moment with some sense of ceremony, and tried to put the silver arm-ring on my arm. She tried, but the arm-ring was too narrow to fit. Katja, after getting one of the huskalar to cut the rope binding my wrists, shoved the arm-ring along my forearm, but it caught on one of my scars.

“Careful,” I hissed.

“Runar,” she whispered. “Help me with this.”

He came over and gripped the metal, pulling it open until it wrapped snug against my right bicep. I flexed my arm back and forth, and Runar adjusted it so that I had full range of movement without letting the arm-ring slip off. When he was done Runar moved away to stand with the rest of the crowd.

“You see how easy that was, law-keeper? Now get out.”

 

*

 

The house was a flurry of activity. Muli, Ljot, and Valna piled barrels against the wall whilst Runar carried them onto a cart outside. Katja wandered to and fro, counting on her fingers, muttering to herself, and occasionally shouting out instructions.

“Runar, make sure we have enough salt. Valna, do we have any of the mead from the Dennfell? Erling likes that. Edda, help me fold this up. Ljot, don’t forget to get the cloak that’s being made for Erling.”

And so it went.

“Runar, can you fly this note over to King Olvid’s law-keeper?”

He let a barrel slip and it thudded onto the floor.

“Fly it over?” he asked, frowning. “You know the huskalar don’t like Windborn using their powers in the city. The High King’s not pleased with us as it is.”

“I’d love to have the time to saunter over there, Runar, really I would, but we’re on a deadline and there’s a hundred things I needed to do before we went north. Either fly there or run there.” She finished scribbling and straightened up to look Runar in the eyes. “Or we can wander nice and slow and see what the huskalar do when we’re still here after sundown.”

She cocked her head and held out the crumpled note. Runar snatched at it, grumbling, then pulled on his cloak and floated off. She put her hands back on the table and sighed.

I slid the last barrel against the pile we had made and went over to Katja. I put my hand on her hunched shoulders. She flinched away, then, as if realising what she had done, put her hand on mine.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Your hands are cold. It was a bit of shock.”

I slid my hand out from under hers and stepped away. Next to us, Muli panted and then leaned against the wall.

“What’s next?” I asked.

Katja looked around, saw Valna reorganising the large pile of crates and barrels so they wouldn’t fall, and took a breath to steady herself.

“I still need to go and see the High King’s law-keepers,” Katja said.

“Why?” Valna piped up from across the room. “We only just spoke to them, didn’t we?”

“We need one of them to come with us and verify what we’ve been saying about Hraki, how he’s waging war in the winter.”

“He literally just said he didn’t want to talk about it,” Valna said.

“That was in Edda’s hearing. I need to try again, Valna, it’s what I’m here for.”

“I’ll come with you,” I said.

“No. After this morning I think it’s best if I go with Muli. It’s the gods’ laws that says there won’t be fighting in winter. My request will probably go over better if there aren’t any Windborn with me.”

She smiled weakly. I glanced over to Valna who just rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Will they send someone?” I asked. “We’re not exactly the High King’s favourite right now.”

“They’ll have to,” Katja said. “If I make it an official request for aid they are bound to give it or send a witness to prove we don’t need it. By law, the witness is required to be impartial. The easiest way to get someone like that is to get a law-keeper from the High King. At least now Einar is still on his way back from the Althing so they can’t send that bastard again.”

Katja pushed herself up from the table and came over to where Valna had laid out a selection of furs, coats and cloaks. She picked one up and wrapped herself up in it. Muli, who looked relieved that he didn’t have to shift any more boxes, went over to get his cloak and shield.

“Edda, there’s a list of things we’ll probably need for the journey on the table. Can you head over to the market and get them?”

“Sure.”

“Thank you. Most of the High King’s law-keepers are at the Althing so who knows who we’ll get to come with us.”

“I guess that the law-keeper from this morning wasn’t their best, then?” Valna asked.

“Couldn’t you tell?” Katja replied. “She was so nervous. It’s probably the closest she’s ever been to the High King, and then to top it all off, he took her arm-ring.”

Katja shook her head, moving towards the door, and played her fingers over her own arm-ring. “Muli, you ready to go? Great. We’ll be back as soon as we can. Valna, Ljot, I need you to go and find us a longship to take us home.”

They started talking about the ship and I shivered, not wanting to think about any kind of longship. I wandered over to the table, swept up the list and the pouch of coin, and went to the market.

The town felt different. Where before people had avoided trying to catch my attention, now they avoided me altogether. Several people looked askance at me as they tried to figure out why I wasn’t wrapped up in furs, then their eyes went wide and they hurried away. Those that didn’t try to get away sighed with relief when they noticed the silver ring wrapped around my arm.

The marketplace itself was even more threadbare. Some of the spaces were filled by different merchants, but they were all peddling the last, and worst, of their wares. I stared down at the list—a collection of foods, herbs, and odd bits of clothing—and started searching.

Memories came back to me as I wandered. I thought back to when Bjolfur and I had visited a nearby town to sell our furs ourselves. We managed to sell them to a merchant as we were barely a couple of hour’s travel from the market. Not wanting to waste the trip, we had gone into town and found a market much like this one, although much smaller. When I had walked through that market, the merchants had called out to us, asking if my husband wanted to buy me some jewellery or if we wanted to try their mead. The world felt warm, safe, and welcoming. Now, the stalls were empty, the air bitter and cold, and no one would meet my eyes.

It was around the fourth or fifth merchant, as he looked at me wide-eyed and open-mouthed before finding the arm-ring and breathed a sigh of relief, that I realised this was my new life. The easy way that Katja was giving out instructions, the readiness with which all the Windborn agreed to them, and the way that no one looked at me. They all looked for the arm-ring. It felt as though Edda had ceased to be, and now there was only a Windborn. A vicious, deadly fighter who would jump to whatever tune her king and law-keeper played. Perhaps I had drowned and all that was left of me was a Wind-fuelled echo. Perhaps my soul wandered the ocean floor and it would find its way to Bjolfur before the end of the world. The thought was a bleak comfort as I began to follow my orders.