Standing before them, I kept scribing kaun, blasting any that came too close.
Swegde was shouting behind me. Moments later, flaming arrows began to trace the sky above my head as he fired into the horde. The fiery bolts ignited their dry and sinewy bodies. The monsters slowed as explosions rippled through their ranks.
“It’s working!” I shouted.
I wielded Levateinn like a flamethrower, burning the draugr where they stood. They were calling to one another now, croaking shouts as they began retreating. I smiled. Even in their guttural voices, I heard fear.
Slowly they began to pick up speed, lumbering back into the vastness of the plains. I raced after them, burning any stragglers. A protective fury ignited my body, and the air smelled of smoke and death.
When I finally paused to catch my breath, the sun had set. Fires burned around me, and injured draugr moaned as vultures picked their bones. Warm light from their burning bodies danced over charred grasses.
A hand touched my shoulder.
“Ali, they’re routed,” said Swegde, his eyes gleaming in the darkness.
“Where did they come from?” I asked.
“The important thing is you defeated them, you were brilliant.”
“They’re still out there.”
He stared into the distance. “We’ll send riders to kill off the rest of them in the morning. You need to get back to the temple.”
“Where is he?”
Swegde pointed behind me, to a cloaked figure couched in the grass. Forgetting my exhaustion, I ran to him.
“Ali?” his familiar voice warmed my chest.
Before I could yank his hood off myself, Barthol had wrapped me in one of his signature bear hugs.
“You’re okay?” I asked. “Not hurt?”
“I’m fine. A bit tired though.” Barthol tried to smile, but I could still see terror in his eyes. “I’m not used to running under the sun.”
I looked at Barthol’s outfit, heavy leather pants, a black cloak, and underneath—I frowned—his cave bear jacket. I was going to have to speak to him about the importance of function over style in a world with the sun.
“What happened to the other two scouts?” I asked.
He flinched. “Dead. Draugr ambushed us this morning.”
“Oh my gods.”
Barthol’s eyes had gone unfocused, clearly reliving something terrible. I hugged him hard.
“It was awful, Ali. Awful …” My brother’s arms tightened around me, and he rested his head on my shoulder for just a moment.
As I pulled away from him, I was already mentally reviewing his assignment, burying my emotional reaction. Just like Swegde taught me.
Swegde cleared his throat. “Tell us what you learned about the draugr.” By his abrupt tone, it was clear he thought we did not have time for Barthol’s emotions. “Are they the ones who were stealing our cattle?”
Barthol tried to school his features into something manly. “The draugr are everywhere in the west.”
“How many?” Swegde barked.
“Thousands upon thousands. In some places the plains are nearly black with their bodies. Vultures everywhere … the smell …” He shuddered visibly.
“Oh gods,” said Swegde under his breath. “You saw this with your eyes?”
Barthol nodded.
“Where did they come from?” I asked.
Barthol shook his head. “No idea. They just stretched back to the horizon. There were so many … There was no way to pass through them to find out.”
“So just the western plains?” Swegde asked hopefully.
Barthol’s expression looked pained. “No, they’re on the move. Headed this way. I think we have a week at best before they’re at the gates of Vanaheim.”
Swegde paled. “I need to warn the tribes.” He paused, looking to me for permission.
“Yes, of course, Swegde,” I said. “Go ahead. I’m going to walk back with Barthol. I’ve got the wand to protect us.”
Swegde nodded. “All right, Ali. I’ll see you in the temple in an hour.”
“Can you organize a meeting of the council?”
“Of course.”
As Swegde hurried off into the night, I turned back to Barthol. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
“I’m fine. I was able to escape, when—” Barthol grimaced. “When the draugr were eating. I’m fine. Just really tired.” He faltered, and I caught him by the elbow, helping him balance.
“Take your time, brother.”
We walked in silence for a while along the edge of the forest, the stars gleaming above us. It was a perfectly clear night, and I could see the Milky Way, the thousands upon thousands of stars that still felt so new and alien.
“Did you ever think you’d be walking under the stars like this?” I asked.
Barthol shook his head, half smiling. “They’re so beautiful.”
“Did you know they have names?” I continued, keeping the subject away from draugr. “That group of stars over there, it’s called Aurvandil's Toe, and that one there is Karlvagn, the soldier’s chariot.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Swegde told me.”
Barthol’s eyebrows flicked up, and he grinned knowingly. “Swegde? Is he your boyfriend?”
I rolled my eyes. “Definitely not.”
Barthol’s grin spread wider. “But have you seen his arms? They’re like tree trunks.”
“No brother, he’s just a close advisor. He was the Regent, he knows the most about the Vanir.”
“You should see how he looks at you, when he goes on about bear wrestling.”
“Barthol!” I said sharply. I wasn’t in the mood. “I’m the Empress now. Boyfriends aren’t a thing, and I don’t think of Swegde that way.”
I thought of what the Norn had told me: Your duty is bigger than you are. There are great snarls in the Wyrd for you to untangle; both your peoples need your full attention if they are to survive.
“So you’re still thinking of him, aren’t you?” asked Barthol.
“Galin? Of course not,” I lied. “The Norn broke the soul bond, at my request. Because that’s not real love, is it? It’s just magic.” My chest felt tight, breathless.
What I didn’t tell him was that when I severed the mating bond, I’d hoped we’d get to know each other in a normal way. Not that we’d never see each other again. I’d never meant for this to happen.
“Do you really think he survived?” asked Barthol quietly.
“He’s Galin. He’s definitely alive.” It came out sounding too sharp, angry. “I checked the bottom of the Well of Wyrd myself, there was no body—” For some annoying reason my voice decided to crack as I said body.
“Or that giant squirrel you told me about carried him off and ate him.” Barthol’s eyes gleamed in the darkness. “Ali, I think he’s gone. If he wanted to speak to you, he’d find a way to communicate. He of all people could do that.”
I didn’t reply. My chest ached sharply. The constellations no longer seemed interesting; the night had become almost oppressive.
Maybe Barthol was right. I had to believe he was still alive, but maybe he didn’t want to see me. He was the most powerful sorcerer the world had ever known. If he wanted to get a message to me, he would’ve found a way by now.