Page 29 of Sky in the Deep
Inge sighed. “Why do you think that?”
Gyda’s hands went to the curve beneath her belly. “He doesn’t want anything anymore.”
Inge looked outside, to where Kerling and Iri were making their way back to the house across the path. Before she could speak, Gyda turned and left, following after them.
Inge stood at the door, watching her. The strain in her eyes reached down to the straight line of her mouth. Her fingers were coiled around each other. I’d seen it happen before in Hylli, the wounded losing their will to live. She probably had too.
Inge cleared her throat. “Have you crushed garlic before?” She rolled up the sleeves of her dress and closed the door.
“A little,” I answered. “For cooking.” I watched her pullan entire crate full of the little white bulbs from the shelf on the wall.
She set a large stone pestle and mortar on the table in front of me. “We’ll peel and crush them. Then we’ll bottle it all.” When she placed an iron knife on the table, my hand twitched at my side. “I’ll peel it, you crush it.” She smirked. She knew better than to give me a knife. “How many years are you, Eelyn?”
I tried to read her, but her eyes were on her work. It was the first time she’d said my name. I didn’t like it. “Seventeen.”
“Do you have family in Hylli? That’s where you’re from, right? Hylli?”
I nodded, studying her. How did she know where I was from? I know Iri didn’t tell her. “Only my father.”
She was quiet for a few minutes and when the sharp, acrid smell of the garlic began to fill the house, she stood and went to the door, propping it back open to let the air in.
“Did you know that Iri is Aska?” she asked, sitting back down.
I picked up a handful of the garlic cloves and set it into the pestle, trying to hear what she wasn’t saying. What was carefully buried beneath the words.
“He and Fiske nearly killed each other five years ago.”
My eyes snapped up from the table.
“It was the last fighting season. They were fighting and fell over the edge of a deep trench.”
I swallowed, blinking.
“Fiske broke a leg and an arm and Iri’s side was cut open from the blade of Fiske’s sword. My husband searched for Fiske for two days before he finally found him. He thought he was dead.” She sucked in a breath. “But he wanted to burn his body. So, he scaled down the wall of the trench and, when he reached him, he saw that Fiske was alive.” Her eyes lifted to mine. “So was the boy he’d been fighting. Just barely. And Fiske wouldn’t leave Iri behind. He begged his father to save his life.” She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Iri was so badly wounded that no one thought he would live.”
I tried to clear my eyes of the burn that was gathering there. “How did you save him?”
She set the knife down onto the table and looked at me. “They brought him in, and the cut was so deep that his organs were coming through the opening of the wound. I was sure he would die. But then he didn’t. Somehow, the skin and the muscle were cut but his organs and arteries remained intact. I stitched him up and it took a long time, but he healed. And as he healed, Fiske healed.”
“So, why isn’t he adýr?” I asked. The sharp words crossed the table between us.
She paused again. “He was going to be. But he was so injured that we had to keep him here, in our home, and care for him day and night. And I’m not sure how it happened, but he became a part of our family. Fiske’s love for Iri became ours.” Her eyes shined again.
“So Iri is Riki now?”
She nodded. “He is. Iri left his past behind. It took time, but the Riki accepted him. The gods are funny that way.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, sometimes they make families in peculiar ways.” She stood, pulling more garlic from the crate. “Fjotra,” she said, under her breath.
“Fjotrais the blood bond. They aren’t brothers,” I corrected her.
“That’smunstrond fjotra. Sál fjotrais a bond between souls.”
I stared at her.
“This kind of bond is formed when a soul is broken. It’s formed through pain, loss, and heartbreak. They’re bound by something deeper than we can see. And that made Iri family.”
