Page 28 of Sky in the Deep
If I were home, Mýra and I would be doing the same, keeping up our strength and skill until the next fighting season or whatever threat may come against Hylli. We spent our mornings on the fishing boats and our afternoons on the hillside running drills. By the time the snow began to melt and I got out of Fela, I would probably be too weak to even swing my sword. I’d always been a skilled fighter even if I was smaller than many Aska warriors. When I got back to the fjord, I would have to start over.
When Iri came back inside, he was alone. He came to the fire and helped cook, turning the grains over on the stone. He watched Halvard and me talking, smiling at the corner of his mouth.
“Do all the Aska look like you and Iri?” Halvard looked between us.
I turned my back to Iri. “Some. We all look different, like the Riki do.”
“Then how do you tell your people from our people when you’re fighting?”
“Sometimes, you can’t.” I shot Iri a look, hoping he understood my meaning.
And he did. He looked back at me, his face hardening. “The Aska armor is a red leather with bronze metal. The Riki use brown leather and iron,” he answered.
Halvard slid down from the table and took the spoon from me to push the fish around in the pot that hung over the fire. “I promise not to kill you if I ever see you in battle.” He stopped stirring and looked up at me.
I stared at him, unable to help the smile pushing onto my lips. I tried to picture him on the battlefield and then wondered how long Halvard would live. In five years, he’d be old enough for the fighting season. But there was something soft about him. Something that wouldn’t hold up well in a fight. I wondered what I would do if I saw him there, on the other side.
The smile melted off my face and I swallowed.
I set the bowls on the table, taking my own and retreating to the stool in the corner. Iri picked up the fourth bowl, pouring it back into the pot. “Fiske isn’t here.”
“Where did he go?” Halvard looked disappointed.
Iri bent over his bowl to scoop a large bite into his mouth. “Checking the nets.”
My fingers tightened around my spoon, my heart skipping a beat. If Fiske was checking nets, there had to be a river nearby. And rivers ran down the mountain. Into the valley and on to the sea. If I could find the river, I could find home.
Inge came through the door and dropped a large crate on the floor before she went back outside. “Iri, I need you to help Kerling inside.”
He stood, going through the door and walking down the path to where a man with a long blond beard stood beside a pregnant woman. I realized she must have been the woman they spoke of, Gyda. His arm was draped over her shoulder and she leaned into him, keeping him balanced. Iri met them on the path, taking the man’s other arm, and they hobbled up to the door slowly.
“It’s good you’re out!” Inge smiled, standing to the side so that Iri and Kerling could get inside.
Kerling kept his eyes to the floor, his face twisted up in pain and sweat beading at his hairline. One pant leg was tied up to the knee, where the lower half of his leg was missing. I’d seen it before. Probably an axe or a fall that crushed the bones. It could have even been an infection.
The woman came through the door and stood behind Kerling. When her hands fell on his shoulders, he shrugged her off, scooting to the edge of the bench and lifting his amputated leg up to rest on the seat. Inge sat beside him, slowly untying the pant leg, and she pushed it back to reveal red, swollen skin, puckered together in zigzagging rows of stitching.
“Compress, Iri.” She leaned in closer to inspect the wound as Iri got to work, pulling the kettle from the fire and opening a large wooden box of herbs on the shelf.
“How are you feeling?” She looked up into Kerling’s face.
He met her eyes, gripping the sides of his leg with his fists. “Like half a man.”
Inge looked up to Gyda, whose face was cast to the floor. “I don’t know how you survived that wound. Thora has favored you.”
Kerling stared into the fire. “Or cursed me.”
Iri pulled the cloth from the bowl of steaming water, looking at Kerling. Beside him, Gyda looked at me. Her furious eyes were filled with tears, her teeth set on edge. I took the unfolded cloths from the other end of the table and satbeside the fire, folding them one at a time and setting them into my lap with Gyda’s stare still burning into me.
Iri dressed Kerling’s leg in a fresh bandage and helped him outside. When they were through the door, Inge put her hands on Gyda’s belly, pressing gently. “It will be soon.”
Gyda didn’t answer, but her face fell, the corners of her mouth turning down.
“I’ll be with you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” Inge smiled.
But that wasn’t true and if I knew it, then Gyda knew it too. A woman was as likely to die in childbirth as she was to die in battle. And Gyda looked as if she’d seen a fight before.
“He doesn’t want the baby anymore,” she whispered.
