Page 64 of Sky in the Deep
He nodded and I turned against the wind, watching his shadow move next to mine on the ground as we walked. We climbed the beach and made our way back onto the path. I led us back to the house, feeling a chill run up my spine as I ducked into the doorway, headed for our saddlebags. The scream froze in my throat as the head of an arrow lifted in front of my face. Red hair glowed in the dark and the creak of the bowstring pulled tight.
Mýra.
Aiming for Fiske.
“No!” I wheezed, throwing myself forward. I plowed into her as her fingers slipped from the bowstring.
The arrow hit and I scrambled over Mýra to look. Fiske stood in the doorway, his eyes wide, holding the pail of fishup in front of him. It swung from the handle on his fingers with the arrow plunked into its side.
I could see his mind racing, his hand going for the sword at his hip.
Mýra shoved me aside and I rolled into the stone circling the fire pit. The muscle in my shoulder ripped away from the bone and I groaned as Mýra shot up from the ground with her axe in her hand. Ash clouded the air as she grunted, swinging it to catch Fiske in the neck, but he flung himself back, falling into the wall. The house shook around us.
“Mýra!” I grabbed for her leg but I could hardly see, choking on the dust.
She ignored me, swinging again, and then Fiske was after her, pushing off the wall and catching her by the neck with his hand. She dropped the axe, clawing at his grip as he pushed her into the opposite wall. Her small body flailed against his strength.
“Stop.” I pushed against him but he didn’t budge. “Let her go!”
He looked at me from the corner of his eye before his fingers unwound from her neck and he replaced them with the knife clutched in his fist.
She stilled, looking from him to me.
“Fiske.”
“Who else is here?” He bent over her with the blade still pressing into her skin.
Her eyes flitted back to me, her jaw clenching.
I reached up slowly and put my hand over his. “Let her go.”
“Who is she?”
“She’s my friend.”
Mýra looked at me wide-eyed as he lowered the knife and the tears spilled over before I could reach her. She threw her arms around me and her cries muffled into my hair as I held her, looking over her shoulder to Fiske. He stood half-lit in the shadows, sliding his knife back into his belt.
“How are you here?” Her words tripped over one another. “What are you doing here?” She pushed me back, looking up at me. The fadedkolaround her eyes dragged down her wet cheeks.
I bit my lip, trying to decide how much to tell her. How much she could understand. “I was captured at Aurvanger. I came when I heard what happened.”
“How did you get off the mountain before the thaw?”
I nodded to Fiske.
She dragged her palms over her face and her breaths slowed. “Why?”
But none of that mattered. I leveled my eyes at her, bracing myself as I spit the word out. “Is he dead?”
“No.” She took hold of my wrist, squeezing. “He’s alive. He’s in Virki.”
I looked back at Fiske, the smile breaking onto my face as I leaned over, putting my hands on my knees to steady myself. “How many? How many survived?”
Her face turned grave and the house went quiet with it.
“Most died. Maybe forty from our village survived. And some were captured.”
I sank back on the stone, trying to stop the spinning. The world was moving around me in blurred, colorless lines. I shook my head, trying to cut her words from the truth. “Your family?”
