Father heard me yelling and nodded once from where he stood, staring up at the near mountain. He started this way with his head down. His shoulders sagged as if he wore a yoke around his neck, pulling a heavy cart up the knoll. The last two winters had aged him considerably. Not that he wasn’t still strong. His steps just weren’t easy like they once were. He lumbered now. But I wondered if time and age were the only things that weighed heavily upon him. If anything else bothered him, he would never admit it.
After the attack… Father found me first. He looked at the hacked-away shield on my arm and then the poker I’d thrown on the floor after tearing it from the woman’s heart. At her lying dead on the floor.
The father who before that night had never once hugged me, dropped to his knees and held me to his chest, telling me I’d fought like a Valkyrie. That Frejya had blessed me with might and a stubborn will no one could pierce. Then he walked away to count his other children.
He considered himself blessed to have only lost one child.
But I saw no blessing in losing Oskar.
Mother stood beside Father as if she were carved of stone as we bid Oskar farewell.
Oskar was two years younger than me, only eleven when Father pushed his small boat into the fjord and tossed a torch inside with him. We watched as the flame slithered across the oil we’d soaked the wood with, as it spread and grew.
We watched him burn.
We watched him sink.
Father said that Odin came for him, that he watched the Alfather pluck Oskar’s soul from his body and take it to Valhalla. He said that the heavens opened for just a second, and that what he saw was resplendent, what every warrior hoped to ascend to. That forever Oskar would dine with the Alfather and drink mead at his table, seated on the breastplates of warriors in a hall whose golden roof was held up by spears, the finest furs draped over his shoulders.
I never saw Odin that day, but I heard my mother cry for the first time. I felt my fear, guilt, and sadness mix with Hodor’s, spreading wider and wider across the fjord as if my feelings were ripples spreading over the water, reaching out to cradle Oskar one last time.
Ripples spread. They never stopped.
I looked at the fjord, to the spot where he slid beneath the cool surface, and still saw them.
Closing my eyes, I pushed the memory away.
Two heavy foot falls stopped short of me. Father stopped just outside the house and waved for me to join him outside. Mother plunked wooden bowls down in front of the children and began to fill them so they could fill their empty stomachs.
I walked to him, her sharp eyes watching as I left the room.
Father’s dark eyes slid to mine. “Go to him. Calm him. I only make matters worse.”
His tone was strange, like he was speaking to someone far away. He folded his thick arms over his chest and stared strangely at the near mountain, studying the bumps and ridges, perhaps looking for the white of Hodor’s shirt.
“Are you worried at all about this omen, Father?” I rasped.
He tugged at his beard with his free hand. “A warrior has no worries. We have survived worse than ill dreams.” His eyes darkened as if he, too, were stuck in the memories of that night.
Or maybe he’d lived through even worse than the night that stole our security and a piece of our family and hearts. I’d heard stories of his raids, of the riches he’d brought home for the Jarl. I’d heard how he cursed an entire army by sending a spear soaring atop their heads and claiming them all for Odin, and then how every man he cursed fell dead before them. Maybe he claimed Odin’s favor because of his skill in battle. Maybe he truly saw him claim Oskar’s spirit and take it into the sky.
“Liv…” Father searched for his words, which frightened me. He was usually free with them, oftentimes too free.
He pinched his lips together as if to save his words, standing tall as an ash tree and just as sturdy, wearing the sweater Mother and I had woven for him. We dyed it the same deep green hue of pine needles and Mother sewed a fine, red berry colored thread around the collar.
What could possibly be bothering him so badly? Was it that he would have to fight Hodor? Was he worried about losing, or would winning and besting his son be worse?
He turned to me. “A seeress has come into the village. She wishes to see you tonight.”
My breath seized in my chest. “What for?”
His cool blue eyes locked onto mine. “I’m not sure, but… she called you by name.” My breath caught in my chest. “Bring Hodor back home, then talk to your mother when you return. She’ll tell you what you need to know about the seeress.” Without another glance, Father left to separate the animals we would slaughter tonight.
Mother’s eyes caught mine and then flicked toward the mountain. Toward Hodor. My mother was a shield maiden. She feared for nothing but the safety of her family.
But fear shone in her eyes as she stared, waiting for me to go after my brother.
three
Hodor’s footprints were still fresh. I followed them up the trail that wound back and forth up the side of the mountain. The peaks of the jagged mountains were dusted in fresh snow and the winds at the top of the slopes roared, dragging snow in shimmering, sweeping arcs, just to let it fall to the earth again.
I found my brother near the frost line where the arctic air made me hug myself to staunch the shivering that began softly but now shook me in earnest. He crouched over something on the ground, his back to me, tensing when he heard my footsteps. “Hodor?”
His shoulders tensed before he threw a weary look over his shoulder. “It’s happening.”
My brows kissed. “What’s happening?” I asked as I drew closer.
At his feet, stiff from death, lay Tor.
I stopped beside him, staring at the mangled body where a predator had gotten ahold of him. Though I didn’t know what kind wouldn’t have dragged him away to finish its meal later.
I ran damp hands over my dress.
“Liv,” he croaked. “This is exactly what I saw in my dream.”
“Exactly?” I asked to be sure.
He nodded. “The very same.” A thread of fate had revealed itself to him, refusing to remain invisible, wanting to be seen. And the spinners, the norns… they foretold Tor’s death, my family’s, and mine as well.
“We should tell Father and Mother and warn the clansmen.” My heart thundered as I backed away and started down the trail I’d just climbed. “What if it’s happening now?”
“There’s not a thick mist over the fjord like there was in my vision,” he argued, gesturing toward the fjord where the sun sparkled over the water.