Page 15 of Sky in the Deep
Another group came down the trail to join the men already gathered. They spread out as the light lifted, starting at the far end and making their way down the line of trees to see the goods that had been laid out for trade.
Including me.
I kept my eyes on the ground, the voice in my head saying everything I didn’t want to believe. I was going to be dragged into the forest and dumped in some Riki mountain village as adýr. I would never see the fjord again. I would never see my father. Mýra. Not in this life or the next. My heart broke inside of me. The hope of getting home seemed so foolish now, eaten up by my anguish.
All because of Iri.
Boots stopped in the snow in front of me, and a deep laugh rang out. “She’s a little thing, isn’t she?”
The burn in my face scorched like a summer sun. The leather of his armor vest stretched as he rocked back and forth on his heels, clicking his tongue before his shadow moved on the snow.
Two more Riki stopped in front of me and I pinned my eyes to my feet, refusing to look up.
“How much for her?” one of them called back to the torches.
“Fourpenningr,” a man shouted back.
I could feel myself sinking deeper into the snow. It was the same price I’d paid for the goat we sacrificed the night I saw Iri. I tried to blink back the flare in my eyes. It was a cruel joke. Like Sigr was looking down on me and laughing. He had to be.
The two Riki moved on, taking more interest in the livestock than in me, and a man bigger than the others stopped before me.
“What’s wrong with her?” He flung a hand toward my shoulder.
The old man who’d come to look at me in the barn came to stand next to him. “Injured from battle.”
“She’s Aska?”
“That’s right. Not much good for work right now, but she’ll heal before the thaw.”
My hands balled into tight fists. I wanted to reach up andstrangle him with the rope. I wanted to watch the light leave his wrinkle-framed eyes.
The big man stepped closer as the old man walked away. “Turn around.”
I took a step back. “What?”
His hand shot out, snatching me by my bruised jaw, and he yanked me forward until the collar choked me, putting his face close to mine. I knew what he was going to do before he did it. His fingers caught me behind the knee and he ran his hand up the inside of my leg. I pressed myself against the rough bark of the tree but he moved with me, letting his body push against mine.
“Get off me,” I growled through my teeth.
A smile pulled at his lips behind his bushy beard. He flung me around, turning me to face the tree, and pushed me into it, his eyes falling down the back of my body like a hot iron. “You’re coming with me.” The words rode on a laugh.
He let go of me and the shaking stopped, my body filled with the hot fever of hatred that flowed through my veins when I swung my axe and sword beside Mýra in battle. An injured arm wouldn’t keep me from driving a blade into this man’s gut.
He walked back to the torches and I wondered if I’d ever seen him. If I’d ever killed anyone he loved. The breath filled my chest, my eyes narrowing. It wouldn’t take long to find an opportunity to kill him. When I did, the others would kill me.
But that would be alright. Sigr might see honor in that.
The collar pulled around my neck and I flinched, turningto see Fiske standing on the other side of the tree. His armor vest was loosely thrown over him, the laces of his boots undone. The length of the rope was wrapped around his fist and he pulled me forward.
“What are you doing?” I jerked against the rope.
He didn’t look at me, turning back toward the village and pulling me with him. “I just paid for you.”
A voice shouted behind us.
“Don’t turn around.” Fiske kept walking.
Arguing echoed between the trees, but it died down as we walked and slowly turned into laughing. I glanced back and Fiske yanked the rope.
