Resting his forearms on his saddle, Bjorn watched, and I was struck with the sense that he was not quite one of them. That despite his father being jarl and Bjorn set to inherit the role someday in the future, he stood apart. I wondered if that was by choice or whether it was forced upon him by all those long years he’d spent in Nordeland. Ylva’s words to him echoed in my head: You were gone too long and are more of a Nordelander than a Skalander.
Snippets of conversation drew my attention. Explanations that scouts had seen the attack coming but not with enough time to evacuate the village. That those who were able fought back so that those who couldn’t fight were able to flee into the forest to hide. That all had been lost. But one word, one name, I heard repeated over and over.
Gnut.
The other jarl had come to finish the job he’d started the night Bjorn and I set his ships on fire, taking advantage of Snorri’s absence to strike a blow that would not be easy to overcome. Not only was every home destroyed, but all the stores and supplies and tools within them were lost to the raiders’ fire. Everything would need to be rebuilt and replaced during the months most dedicated to farming and gathering, which meant all would be in a weakened position when winter struck.
I knew this because I’d seen it before. Had lived it.
These people had survived the raid, but that might only mean a prolonged death as they suffered and starved over winter, and my hands balled into fists. Gnut had done this to strike a blow at Snorri, but it would not be Snorri who suffered.
It wasn’t fair.
Which was perhaps a childish thing to think, because nothing about life was fair, yet I was so sick of seeing those who were powerless harmed by the actions of those who were supposed to protect them.
Snorri’s warriors and the survivors began bringing the fallen to the square before the ruins of the great hall. I moved to help them, but then hesitated. They were all strangers to me, whereas those who tended to them were their friends and family. Although I was Skalander through and through, I was also an outsider in this moment. At least I was until I saw a familiar form supported by two of Snorri’s men. “Oh, Liv,” I whispered.
Of their own accord, my feet took me to the still form of the healer, her eyes glazed and unseeing, the wound in her chest so catastrophic that I knew her end had been quick. Kneeling in the mud, I closed her lids, whispering my hopes that the gods had met her with open arms and full cups.
Bjorn knelt next to the healer, every muscle in his face tight with grief. And, I realized, anger.
“Why didn’t you run?” he asked under his breath. “What the fuck were you thinking, Liv?”
I knew what she was thinking. These were the people whom she had spent nearly every day of her life healing with her gift. She was connected to every single person in Halsar, whether it had been delivering them or their child, mending wounds from accident or battle, or chasing away sickness. She’d known what losing the village would mean, and though she opposed fighting to her core, she’d picked up a weapon to fight for her people. Had earned a place with the gods.
Bodil approached on horseback, her maidens holding back, their watchful eyes on the surrounding forest. Dismounting, she went to Ylva’s side. “I’ll send word to Brekkur requesting supplies and ships and laborers.”
“You have our thanks, my friend,” Ylva said, wiping tears from her face. “We will rebuild and—”
“We will not rebuild, for that is what Gnut wants!” Snorri roared, silencing everyone even as Ylva’s face filled with dismay. “He fears me! Fears the fate the gods have in store for me! That is why he struck when our backs were turned, attacking women and children, and burning homes—because he believed it would keep us from making war upon him. That he’d be able to hide in his stronghold another season while we toiled to rebuild. Gnut believes he has struck us a grievous blow, but I say he is mistaken!” Snorri paused, then shouted, “I say that he has given us the gift that will see his destruction!”
From the other side of Liv’s body, Bjorn made a noise of disgust, but I found myself leaning in Snorri’s direction, desperate to learn what silver lining he saw within this catastrophe. I was not alone. All around us, the people of Halsar watched their jarl with hope in their eyes, and for all I prayed that he had answers, it was not lost upon me that it was the consequences of his choices that we needed to be delivered from.
“Long have we known that Halsar was vulnerable!” Snorri leapt onto a pile of debris, his voice projecting across the smoking ruins. “Long have we known that its position was weak, ever a target of raiders from north and south, east and west. Yet it was our home, so we clung to it, allowing habit and sentiment and apathy to weaken us. But no longer.” His eyes surveyed his people. “For like a healer excises a rotten bit of flesh, so has Gnut burned away our weakness, leaving behind nothing but strength!”