The telling distracted me from thoughts of him, but it also served well to distract those I rode with who feared for their families in Halsar. Yet as the sun faded into night, Ylva insisting that we ride by torchlight, sleep took me. And in the confines of my mind, I was not so similarly spared.
Once again, I stood atop the great hall of Halsar, except this time everything burned. People ran screaming, their clothing aflame, while warriors made of shadow pursued and cut them down, black blood spraying even as their victims fell screaming. And I could do nothing. Could not move from the place where my feet were fixed to the roof of the hall, my body frozen in place. All I could do was scream and scream, for I’d brought this upon all of them.
I jerked upright, only the ropes tying me to the saddle keeping me from falling off the side of my horse.
“You have troubled dreams.”
My head snapped to my left where Bodil rode, leading my mare. Though she’d stayed by my side the entire journey, listened to every word of my tale, she had said little about herself. Logically, I knew that I needed to be careful about what I said, for she would discern any untruth and there were secrets I needed to keep, but there was something calming about her presence that made me want to confess my fears.
“I have a troubled life,” I finally answered. “Those troubles find their ways into my dreams.”
Her head tilted slightly. “You fear for those in Halsar, despite it only recently becoming your home?”
“Yes.” Shifting in the saddle, I silently willed those ahead of me to increase their speed so conversation would be impossible. “They were left undefended for my sake.”
“That was Snorri’s decision, not yours.”
Just as it had been his decision to sacrifice the thralls as decoys during the ascent of Fjalltindr, but that hadn’t eased my conscience. “I don’t want anyone to die because of me, especially not innocent people.”
“If that is their fate, that is their fate.”
I scowled, though she spoke a truth I’d heard all my life. “I weave my own fate, Bodil, same as you. Same as all children of the gods. If by changing my path I might alter theirs, why shouldn’t I try?”
“I did not say you shouldn’t.” Bodil reined her horse around a bush. “But how are you to know whether the choice you made changed anything?”
“If everyone in Halsar is well, I’ll know, because it means what has occurred is different from what the seer foresaw.”
“Perhaps.” Bodil was quiet for a long moment. “Or perhaps the seer’s words did not mean what Ylva believed they meant. Perhaps she spoke of a moment far in the future. Or perhaps”—she gave me a long look—“of a place other than Halsar. Only the gods know for certain.”
“Then why ask a seer anything at all if what they tell you is useless?” I exploded. Not out of anger toward her, but out of a growing sense of powerlessness.
“The words the seers speak are given to them by the gods,” Bodil answered. “Do you not think it the greatest vanity for a mere mortal to believe he can take divine knowledge and bend it to his purpose?”
My eyes shot to her so fast my neck cracked, for, of a surety, she spoke of Snorri. “Speak plainly, Bodil. I’m too tired for riddles.”
The jarl shrugged, her silvered braids falling over her broad shoulders. “The gods love riddles, Freya, and I am as much at their mercy as you. But the question I find myself asking is this: How can a man control your fate when he is not even the master of his own?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it, unable to come up with an answer.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Bodil said. “I must go speak with Ylva. She is much consumed by fear for her home and Snorri has a man’s ability to offer comfort, which is to say none at all.”
Likely made worse by her knowing that Snorri had been more interested in taking vengeance against Harald than defending her home. “You know her well?”
Bodil smiled. “Why do you think she came to me for help at Fjalltindr?” Nudging her horse with her heels, she pressed into a canter, calling over her shoulder, “Think about what I said.”
I bit the insides of my cheeks, considering her words. Except the answer seemed obvious. Snorri controlled me with threats. His blade hovered over my mother’s neck, and above Geir’s and Ingrid’s, which meant I would do as he asked. While that wasn’t as worthy of song as gods and fate, it was every bit as effective.
“Foolishness,” I muttered to myself. Likely what Bodil was trying to do was undercut Snorri, which meant I should be wary of her.