Spert’s mouth moved, sputtered a cough.
Vesli dropped her head. “Maeur and vaesen came over wall. Spert fought them, Thorkel barred the gates of the hall.” She looked at the burned-out skeleton and put a hand with her spiked fingers to her throat. “Fire and smoke, very bad, we all choke. Thorkel opened gates, fought.” She made a clicking sound in her throat. “Thorkel fierce. Thorkel change, become…” She looked up at Orka, who just nodded. “Warriors and vaesen break in, tennúr too.” She paused, her face twisting in a snarl, and she spat on the ground. “Oathless tennúr, and others.”
“What others?” Orka grunted.
“Skraeling, and… something else. Human, but not,” she said. “Like Thorkel, but… not,” Vesli shrugged.
“One of the Tainted?” Orka prompted. “Human, but animal, as well.”
“Yes, yes,” Vesli said. “Man, with two long, sharp claws. He fought Thorkel. Nasty man, fierce.”
Claws? The seaxes in Thorkel’s body?
“Did you see his eyes?” Orka asked.
Vesli nodded. “They glowed red, like embers in the fire.”
A low growl from Orka.
“And then?” she said, knowing what must be coming, not wanting to hear it, but unable not to.
“Tennúr flew in, try to take Breca,” Vesli said with another savage twist of her lips. “Vesli fight them.” She put a hand to the wound on her head and shrugged, her wings rippling. “Next thing Vesli know, Orka carrying her out of hall. Vesli grateful.”
Orka nodded.
Vesli took a step away from Orka, to look at the wounds on Orka’s waist and shoulder.
“Vesli has helped?” she asked, a thin smile spreading across her face, showing the hint of tiny, sharp teeth.
Orka stood and stretched, carefully rolled her shoulder and twisted to the side. Both of her wounds felt better. She could still feel them, but the pain was less. She brushed her fingertips across the gash in her waist and felt something sticky.
“Orka heal quicker, now,” Vesli said.
“How did you do that?” Orka said.
Vesli coughed and spat up a glob of glutinous spit, then began to knead it in her fingers. It congealed and became stringy, like tendon.
Orka decided she didn’t want to know.
“You and Spert are free of your oaths,” Orka said, looking from Vesli to Spert, at their wounds. “You have both earned it.”
“Vesli help you.”
“Help me by looking after Spert.” She looked up at the sky, tendrils of black smoke still in the air. “Take him away from the steading. People from the village may come. If they find you and Spert, they will kill you both.” She walked back to Thorkel and stood over him, looking down at his pale, scarred face.
I would stay here with you and never leave you, my husband, if I could.
She blew out a long, ragged sigh, knowing what she must do. She walked to the barn and found a spade, then returned to the courtyard, counted paces across the ground and stopped near the western tip of the hall. Then she started digging. It was not long before the blade hit something solid with a dull thud. She carried on digging, uncovering a wooden chest. Once it was clear of earth, she reached in and grabbed a rope handle, dragged the chest free of soil, undid the bolt and opened the lid.
A flood of memories: of Thorkel, of battle, death, the screams of the dying. Old friends, old enemies. Some that had been both. She shook her head; a shudder rippled through her body. For so long she had fought these memories, turned away from them, tried to scatter them, or bury them like she had buried the chest.
But not this time.
Now she embraced them, let them grow and swirl behind her eyes, until all she could see was battle and blood.
Because that is what I am. It is my past, and my future, until Breca is safe at my side.
She reached in and took out a seax in a scabbard of polished leather, knotwork tooled into it, a hilt of walrus ivory, fittings and rings of silver. Reaching back in she pulled out a fist full of arm rings, silver and gold, twisted and wound together. Retrieving the spade, she walked back to Thorkel, setting the seax and arm rings beside him. First, she dug a shallow grave, then she paused and crouched by his side, just wanting to be close to him. When she was ready, she gripped the hilts of the two seaxes embedded in his body, and with a grunt and snarl pulled them free. She looked at them a long moment, then cast them aside on the ground, and dragged Thorkel’s body into the grave.
With a whirr of wings Vesli joined her, trying to help by pulling on Thorkel’s tunic. She was remarkably strong for her size.