The man tried to bat the bird away, and Oddny saw his face—he had no beard and his wide eyes were a strange pale green—and the swallow must’ve gotten in a good scratch, because he yelped and fell back, covering his eye with both hands.
“What are you doing, Halldor?” Kolfinna bellowed. “She’s getting away!”
By then Oddny was well into the pines and she did not stop. Her thighs screamed from the incline as she headed up the slope.
“Run, Oddny!” Signy shouted, her voice hoarse and pained. “Run—” Her cries stopped abruptly, as if she’d been gagged or worse, and gods, how could Oddny have left her behind?
Oddny didn’t stop running until she reached her father’s burial mound, where she climbed into the old pine tree, found a sturdy branch, and sat on it as she clung to the trunk, chest heaving, eyes squeezed shut. Judging from the silence around her, no one had followed. She didn’t know how long she stayed there before she summoned the courage to look back toward her home.
Her father’s hall was still burning, and the fog was gone, the ship a smudge in the distance, veering south into the strait, heading for the open sea. She wondered if the raiders would raze Ozur’s farm as well, wondered if they knew how rich he was compared with the humble family whose lives they had destroyed in the blink of an eye.
Oddny climbed down from the tree, hands and feet unsteady. Then she collapsed on her father’s grave and sobbed until the world went dark around her and she could feel nothing at all.
5
THE SWALLOW FLEW ABOVE the din.
After ensuring nobody had followed Oddny into the woods, she made for Signy, who thrashed and screeched through her gag as the raiders bound her hands and feet and tossed her into the ship with the two young farmhands. The swallow followed.
It’s going to be all right, the swallow said, despite knowing Signy couldn’t hear her. She dove down and started nipping and clawing at Signy’s restraints, but she quickly learned that it was a futile endeavor: The ropes were thick and heavy, and she was very small—and even if she managed to free Signy, her friend would never escape the raiders. There were too many of them.
So she flitted onto the gunnel and willed Signy to see.
Signy finally stilled when she saw the bird and met its human eyes—and her own eyes widened in recognition, even after all these years. Her voice was muffled through the gag, but the swallow made out her own name, a whisper, Signy’s voice rough from screaming: “Gunn . . . hild?”
Heid is trying to clear the fog so my father’s men can come to rescue you. Everything will be fine.
Oh, none of that, now, said another voice—a woman’s voice, high-pitched and smug—and the swallow took to the air to avoid being tackled by a white fox that leapt at her. Its eyes were amber, and as human as her own.
Another witch.
Who are you? Gunnhild demanded. What’s the meaning of this?
None of your concern, the fox replied. We have nothing against you, sister. Go now, and speak of this to no one.
The fog over the water was beginning to clear, which meant Heid must have succeeded, but Gunnhild couldn’t spot her in the air.
“Where is that blasted witch?” said the raiders’ leader, squinting at the sky as the others pushed the ship off the rocky beach and climbed aboard. She turned to the fox. “Where did your eagle friend go? Isn’t she in charge of the fog?”
“There’s no time,” said one of the raiders. “It’s clearing. The hersir’s men will spot us any moment.”
“There’s the other one,” said a second, pointing to something that Gunnhild could not see in the water. “Kolfinna, we must go.”
The eagle will catch up, said the fox.
Kolfinna could clearly hear her—how the fox accomplished this, Gunnhild didn’t know—for she said, “She’d better, because we’re not waiting for her.”
The fox jerked her head at Signy. Do what you will with this one, so long as she can never return to Norway.
“And the other half of our payment?”
I told you to get rid of them both by any means necessary. But since you let one escape, I’m not paying the rest.
Kolfinna balked. Signy seemed as confused as the other captives—and indeed, as the other crew members—at what was going on, and Gunnhild realized that none but Kolfinna could hear the animal’s responses. To them, it must look like their leader was inexplicably talking to a fox.
“You double-crossing little bitch,” Kolfinna said.
You did only half the job, said the fox. But at least you’ve captured the more comely of the two—she’ll sell for a better price than the other, no?
Shaking with fury, Kolfinna turned away from the fox and started ordering her people about the ship, which began to gain speed. Then she stopped in front of the man who’d nearly captured Oddny. Blood dripped down the side of his face from where Gunnhild’s claws had put three slashes through his thick eyebrow.
After taking in his wounds, Kolfinna growled, “You let her go for a few scratches? You’ve cost us half our pay!”
Gunnhild did not hear his muttered response, but it caused Kolfinna to take a swing at him, which he easily ducked before tackling her to the ground. Several other crew members tried to break them apart, and the fox turned to the swallow.
Why aren’t you gone? the other witch asked, eyes moving to her tiny talons. Don’t tell me you’re the reason the other escaped? Who are these women to you?
You’ll never make it past my father’s men, and I intend to stay and watch them capture you, Gunnhild said, more confidently than she felt. There were no warships coming from across the strait, not yet, though she did see some movement. Whatever you hoped to accomplish here—
The fox stilled, then bared her teeth in a horrible mockery of a grin. I see. So you’re Gunnhild Ozurardottir? How fortuitous.
Before Gunnhild could ask how in the Nine Worlds this witch knew her name, the fox leapt high and snatched one of her legs between sharp teeth—an action that would have snapped a normal bird’s leg clean off—and dragged her down to the deck to pin her with both paws.
I should’ve guessed you’d taken to spying on your little friends. Pity it’ll be the last thing you ever do, said the fox, jaws opening wide—
But Signy, who had been watching all this unfold in stunned silence, without hearing any of the words passing between the two witches, raised her bound feet and brought both heels down upon the fox’s head as hard as she could. Gunnhild saw it coming just in time to dodge before the animal’s chin hit the deck with a thunk, and she took to the air well out of the fox’s reach.
Damn you, said the fox, and sank her teeth into Signy’s calf, and Signy screamed through her gag and tried to shake her off. Kolfinna, who had been dragged off her companion, kicked the fox away.
“If you’re going to damage the goods, witch,” she spat, “then you can get off my ship.”
With pleasure. We’re through here, the fox snarled, teeth and maw bloodied, before leaping over the gunnel and into the sea.
“And you,” Kolfinna said to Signy, whose leg was bleeding freely onto the deck. “Mind yourself, or I may deem you more trouble than you’re worth. Is that clear?”