Lana lay on her side, watching the flat black pool of her blood slowly spread. Young flames danced all around her, burning taller and stronger each moment. She hoped she would be dead before they touched her. Her hand was outstretched toward the withered corpse of Knud, the chieftain, which lay deep in the flames across from her. Through the sheets of flickering orange she saw the skin of his face begin to peel. One end of a crimson rope was tied around his wrist. It stretched across to Lana, and wrapped around her own wrist, connecting them. Now the fire worked its way down Knud’s hand to the rope, making its stray fibers writhe and turn to ash. Lana watched the flames come closer, her vision fading. Her thoughts moved gropingly through the drug haze. I can’t fail this time, not again. And as the flames circled her wrist, her eyes went dark.
Then came the nightmare. She was clawing at the dirt floor of her parents’ hovel while a pair of strong hands dragged her by her ankles. Screams and war-cries mingled in the night. Her younger brother had hidden himself deep in the cold ashes of the hearth. In all that gray, his eye was a single blue gem. It watched her, and grew impossibly wide. The fear she had felt that day, the fear of losing him, returned to her. It filled her lungs like poison. She knew what she would do next, knew that her brother would be found and taken. The part of her that had already lived through it raged against it, trying to clamp her mouth shut, to bite off her tongue, but she had no body now, and the past was set in stone. She shouted out his name.
❅
She woke to a glacial blue sky, wide and empty. For an instant she felt was falling up into it, and her heart pounded against her ribs. But there was the sound of waves slapping against wood, and when she turned her head, she could see a mast looming up over her, black rigging ropes slashing across the blue. She was lying on her back on the deck of a ship. Her throat was tight, as though she’d been choking, and the salt streaks of dried tears stuck to her cheeks and made her skin feel stiff.
As she sat up, loops of rope chafed against her ankles, and another tugged at her wrist. They were tied to the mast, tethering her. She turned left and right, sweeping her hands through the clutter of grave-goods, knocking aside a silver chalice, a bundle of healing herbs, an iron knife. She snatched it up and went to work on the ropes at her feet. The blade was sharp, and made short work of them. As she loosened her grip on the antler handle, she realized that her fingers were a perfect fit to the grooves worn into it. It had felt so natural in her hand that she hadn’t even recognized it at first.
She had used it every day for seven years, since the morning her father had left. He had knelt down, snow crunching underneath him, and put his hand on her shoulder.
“This knife,” he hefted it in his hand, “is for your brother. Until he’s old enough, use it to take care of him, and it will take care of you.”
And it had, until they were captured, and one of the raiders had pried it from her fingers. She pushed the memory away and turned the knife to the rope at her wrist. Then she stopped. This was the red rope that had tied her to Knud. It still burned with pale yellow flames, and gave off a comforting warmth, but it was different than it had been. Rather than falling to the deck or dangling loose from her hand, it stretched out weightlessly into the air, shimmering like a mirage until it faded away completely some ten paces from her. If it still bound her to Knud… then she might still be able to fulfill her duty.
She walked across the deck to the carved dragon figurehead, taking in her surroundings. The ship was on a wide, gray pebble beach. To one side was an expanse of water, all the dirty gray of pig iron. Ten paces out from the shore, the fog was opaque white, so she couldn’t see how far the water might extend, but it moved in rolls and swells like the ocean. The spectral rope pointed in the other direction, toward a birch forest. Lana wrapped her hand around her wrist, feeling the wiry bristles of the rope and the warmth of the flames. All she could do for now was follow it. The finger-length blade of the knife might not be enough when she found him, though. She took a steel shortsword from among the scattered treasures and climbed over the side of the ship.
Her wooden sandals scattered wave-worn pebbles as she hit the ground. A thin mist hung over the land, but the flames on the rope around her wrist kept the chill at bay. She crossed from the water-slick stones onto mossy turf, then a carpet of fallen leaves. She passed into the forest, watched by a thousand black carved eyes on the trunks of the birch trees. The air tasted of salt, and a deep breath brought the cold mist into her lungs. She could feel a gentle tug at her wrist, the burning red rope guiding her to her quarry. It led her along a clear, cold rill, then to the edge of a clearing. She stopped behind the final row of trees. Kneeling in the center of the clearing was a figure wearing snow white fur. Knud.
All of the raiders wore furs or feathers. They were symbols of warrior status, they said. It was fitting that they dressed as wolves and hawks, livestock thieves and carrion feeders. Knud’s cloak was from a snow bear, hunted somewhere in the far north. With his back to her, he looked like a malformed bear himself, too much fur draped on too little meat. She kept away from the edge of the clearing and circled slowly around until she could see him clearly. He was hunched over, head bent down to examine the ground, where the yellow carpet of fallen leaves had been torn, exposing the black rot below. He was tracking something, too, it seemed. His left hand was pressed to the ground, and the other was cradled close to his chest. Lana took a step, and a branch hidden beneath the leaves cracked under her foot. Knud straightened, and his right hand flew to the hilt of a longsword at his belt. Three golden oath-bands glimmered on his upper arm, counterparts to those worn by his lieutenants, and symbols of their loyalty. Below them, at his wrist, was a loop of burning red rope, counterpart to Lana’s own. Their ghostly ends reached out toward each other through the air, and Knud’s head turned in her direction.
She walked out into the clearing wearing a smile. Until she knew how to destroy him, she couldn’t afford to make him suspicious. As Knud saw her, he stood, and Lana caught the subtle shift in his posture, a broadening of the shoulders and straightening of the back that made him better fill the bear pelt. He was playing the role of chieftain. He lifted his arms out to his sides, a gesture of welcome.
“I’ve been waiting! I am glad my ship carried you safely to this strange shore.”
“You must not have expected it to be me,” said Lana. “I showed you too little respect in life.”
“Anyone can wear a mask of respect.” Knud shook his head. “No. The other slave girls learned to trade compliments for table scraps, but none would have died for me. You volunteered, then?”
Lana nodded, trying to keep the disgust from her face.
“Good! I was worried they would have to draw lots. Better that you chose this yourself. But you should wait at the ship, for now. I’ll come for you when the danger has passed.”
“What danger?”
“Why do you think we’re here, when we should be standing at the gates of the blue city of the gods?”
Lana said nothing. She had never expected to see that heaven, or any other, and Knud certainly didn’t deserve to.
“I’m being tested,” said Knud. “I died of illness when it should have been on the end of a sword, so I’ve been given a chance to prove my valor. The gods have sent me a monster to slay.”
Lana glanced down to the ragged rip in the carpet of leaves. Knud saw the movement of her eyes, and nodded.
“Yes, I’ve been tracking it. I’ve only caught a glimpse so far, but it was no earthly creature. When I’ve finished with it, I’ll bring you its head as a wedding gift.”
Lana saw Knud’s oath-bands catch the light, and remembered how he had held them close when she first saw him. She decided to take a risk.
“I won’t wait on the ship.”
Knud’s eyes snapped to her, and his lips twisted with displeasure. It was a dangerous expression, but she let it linger until he opened his mouth to speak before she continued.
“If I’m meant to be your bride in death, it’s my duty to stay by your side, no matter the danger. I won’t sit on my hands while you hunt this monster.”
Knud closed his mouth again, and she thought she saw pride bend to desire behind his eyes. After a moment, he answered.
“Good. Then we have no time to waste. Follow me.”
The trees thinned as they went, and the fog thickened, deepening the chill in the air. Following the tracks, Knud led the way out of the forest and into a sloping meadow, where blue flax grew in clusters above the low green grass. The color of the sky had changed. Now it was milk white and luminous, as though there was a layer of ice, clouded with frost, between them and the sun. Eventually, Knud broke the silence.
“You’re much like your brother.”
Lana froze mid-step while Knud walked on ahead. “You remember him?”
“He was brave, and loyal.”
She quickened her pace to catch up to him. “He became a raider so that he wouldn’t stay a slave. Is that loyalty?”
“Oh, I tested him of course. I’ve suffered enough betrayals. He bore it with more grace than some of my best warriors.” Knud turned his face to Lana, wearing a smile of almost childlike enthusiasm. “I asked him to fetch an ember from the fire and he never hesitated for a moment. He plucked it out still glowing and carried it right to me.” He turned his head back to the ground as he found another track where the monster’s step had torn the earth. “I made sure they mixed fresh ointment for his hand. Strong boy.”
Lana was trembling. She clasped her hands together to still them. She hadn’t known. When he started lingering around the raider’s fires, sharing their laughter, she had let him, thinking he could save himself, that she would only keep him trapped if she held on. She should have been there to protect him.
“And in the end, you both proved your loyalty in the same way,” said Knud. “You both gave your lives for me.”
Lana gripped her stolen shortsword, white-knuckled. Her brother’s life hadn’t been given. He’d taken it. Knud knelt over another track, leaning forward and baring his neck as though awaiting execution. The rope seemed to grow more solid around her wrist, tugging her gently toward him. Lana itched to be his executioner, but she forced her fingers to pull away from the handle of her sword, one by one. They were both already dead, their earthly bodies burned to ashes in the burial ship. She didn’t know if a sword strike would be enough to send him to the hell he deserved. She would take vengeance for her brother, but not yet.
Knud stood suddenly. “It’s close!”
He ran ahead, and in only a moment, he had already vanished over the hill. Lana rushed after him, crested the ridge, and looked out over the valley below. Fog drowned the land in a shifting white sea, pierced here and there by the upper branches of trees. The rounded shadows of enormous stones darkened it here and there. At the valley’s far end, Lana could make out the form of a great black wolf. It was drinking from a stream, its shoulders moving with each lap of water. It lifted its head above the fog to search the land with a pair of eyeless sockets. Lana’s breath caught in her throat. She should be afraid, she thought, but the feeling was different, more familiar. On the slope ahead, Knud charged silently toward it, sword held upright and gleaming.
Almost before she realized it, she was running down after him, plunging into the depths of the fog. The grass was slick with dew, slipping under her wooden sandals. She took them off and threw them aside, barely slowing her pace. Rough gray stones, pockmarked from an eternity of rain, loomed out of the fog in an instant, and Lana wove around them. Her heart urged her on like a war drum. She had moved on instinct, and her thoughts were only just catching up to her. Why was she running? She should approach carefully, wait to see Knud clash with the wolf before taking any risks. But her feet didn’t stop moving. She saw Knud ahead, sword drawn, stalking toward the wolf, a dark shadow in the fog. It was as tall as Knud at the shoulder, and its fur stood out at odd angles, like tongues of flame. He was much closer than her, and there was no way she could reach him before he reached the wolf, if that was even what she wanted. Still, she ran.
Through the fog ahead, she saw Knud rise to his full height and make his final dash to the wolf, bellowing. The beast barely had time to turn before Knud swung his sword into its foreleg, shearing straight through it. For a moment, time seemed frozen while Lana and Knud both waited for the leg to buckle and the wolf to fall. Instead, it took a step toward Knud, bringing its snout down toward Knud’s face. He swung again, a fierce upward slash through the wolf’s lower jaw. The blade passed through like a ghost.
Knud hesitated an instant, then turned and ran, back toward Lana. She saw her chance. All she had to do was prevent his escape. She would fall to the wolf, too, but she was prepared to pay that cost. She stepped into Knud’s path, brandishing her shortsword. Knud stumbled to a stop in front of her.
“There’s no point in fighting the creature.”
“I don’t intend to.”
Knud glanced over his shoulder. The wolf was walking toward them, unhurried. When he looked back at Lana, comprehension was beginning to darken his face. “Why?”
“You sent my brother to die!” She spat the words. “Did you really think I would forgive you?”
Knud’s face slackened. Instead of the rage that Lana had expected, he wore a look of disappointment. “You died to take vengeance on a dead man. I would call you a traitor if you weren’t clearly mad.”
Before Lana could think to speak, Knud was striding forward, lifting his sword high above his head. In the instant that remained, Lana thrust her shortsword forward. Steel flashed down at the edge of her vision, and she felt it bite into her neck, icy cold. Her body reacted on its own, seizing up, freezing her breath in her throat, but there was no pain. She looked, and saw that her shortsword had run clean through Knud’s stomach. There wasn’t a drop of blood.
They both pulled away. As Knud’s sword slid out of her shoulder, it left no wound at all, though she could feel its ghost in her flesh, where the metal had sucked away her warmth. Lana let her sword fall to the ground and took out the iron knife. It had cut the ropes, after all. It was all she had.
Knud’s sword clattered to the stones as he lunged at her, hands raised like a grappler. Lana slashed at his neck, but he caught the blade in his hand. His face blanched, and he hissed through his teeth. Warm blood trickled between his fingers and ran down Lana’s arm. His expression changed to a thin, strained smile, and he tightened his grip. Lana wrenched at the knife, doubling the flow of blood, and saw the muscles in his jaw strain against the pain. He grabbed her wrist with his other hand while his fingers, slick with blood, worked against hers to pry the knife away. The wolf loomed behind him like the shadow of death, and Lana glanced up at it. In that instant of distraction, Knud kicked her in the stomach, driving the air from her lungs. The knife slipped from her grip, and in an instant, Knud passed it to his other hand and slashed out at the wolf’s leg, carving a bloodless gash just below its knee. It staggered back, then ran, vanishing into the fog.
Knud took one step after it, then turned back to Lana as she pushed herself to her feet. He swung his fist at her head like a hammer, and the rounded oak handle of the knife cracked into the side of her skull. Bright spots spattered across her vision, and pain bloomed out from her temple. As the spots faded, she saw Knud standing over her. He held up his arm and slipped the knife between his wrist and the red rope tied around it. The gentle yellow flames flared up in an orange halo for a moment. In a single pull of the knife, he severed the rope. It solidified in the air and fell, heavy, to the ground. She tried to rise, and Knud pushed her back to the ground by her shoulder. He knelt in front of her, holding her there with the knife at her throat.
She met Knud’s gaze and held it. She would not submit. He put more pressure on the knife, and Lana felt a drop of blood roll down to her collarbone. She saw his shoulder tense, his grip on the knife tighten, and braced for her second death. Then something shifted in his eyes, not to compassion, but to fear. He lifted the knife from her skin and rose to his feet. Lana scrambled backward, trying to make distance from him, but he grabbed the loose end of the red rope and gave a vicious pull. The rope dug into her wrist, and she felt as though her shoulder would be wrenched from its socket. The ground swept up to hit her chin, and fingers of pain reached around to the back of her head. When she tried to stand again, Knud didn’t stop her. She turned to see that he’d tied the rope around the trunk of a young birch. Lana rushed at him, grasping for the knife, but the rope snapped taut, stopping her with Knud still far out of reach. He held the knife close to his face, eyes fixed on it, his steaming breath clouding the blade.
“Now I have what I need to kill the beast.” There was no triumph in his voice, only exhaustion. “I’ll decide your fate once it’s dead.”
He looked back at her once, but only for a moment, before walking away into the fog. As soon as he was out of sight, Lana went to the tree. Her fingers were numb with cold, but she wedged them into the spaces between the rope, clawed at it with her nails. Every effort seemed to make the rope stronger, more real. She turned, braced herself, and charged away from the tree with all her strength. The rope snapped taut behind her, jerking her shoulders back, and the ground slipped beneath her feet. She fell onto her side and shouted her anger into the fog. A distant howl answered her. She rolled onto her back. Each breath of frigid air made her lungs ache. The sky above was the gray of cold ash in an empty hearth.
A frantic part of her searched her mind for a shred of hope, a chance to fulfill her duty. Knud had no reason to leave her alive. He must have been worried that his gods wouldn’t open paradise to him, even if he killed their monster. He was terrified that if he slit her throat, he would buy himself an eternity of solitude. She could still have a chance to avenge her brother, then, once he returned… But the thought was hollow. What then? Either she would find some way to destroy him, and be alone forever herself, or share a life with the man who had razed her home and killed her only family. Either way, her brother was gone.
Old grief welled up in her chest like seawater in a sinking ship. She let it fill her, tired of holding it back. Her tears burned her cheeks as their trails froze on her skin. When she closed her eyes, she saw a longship decorated for a funeral. Strips of black cloth hung from the mast like the ribbons on a maypole. In the memory, she walked beside the ship in a procession of mourners. They reached over and set trinkets and grave-goods on the warrior corpses. Her brother was among them, looking like a child flanked by giants. In that moment, she had felt the full weight of his loss. It had felt to her as though she had died, too. Her purpose had always been to protect him, to feed him, to teach him. Without him, she had nothing. It was then that she made the oath to avenge him. One final duty to give her purpose, to keep her alive. He would never have wanted it. It had always been selfish.
There was something else, though, something in the memory that clawed at the back of her mind, something she had almost missed in the haze of grief. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remember. After the mourners had left, as the torch-bearers were already lighting the dry wood of the hull at either end of the ship, Knud had walked up to it carrying a black bundle. He had unfurled it and tossed it over her brother’s body. It was a ragged black wolf pelt, shot through with arrow holes and unfit to wear, a way to grant him warrior status even in death. The same pelt worn by the monstrous wolf Knud would use her knife to kill.
Lana’s eyes snapped open. Heavy white snowflakes fluttered down all around her, alighting on her skin and clothes. She sat up. The rope that tied her to the tree had withered and blackened, and the flames that burned along it were barely visible now, a dull grayish red. As she watched, it fell to ashes. She stood, still shaking with cold. The howl came again, thin and hoarse. No matter what he had become, she could still save what was left of him.
❅
The fog had settled as frost that crunched under Lana’s feet, and the air was clear. She ran in the direction of the wolf’s last howl, through the scattered stones of the valley and up to the crest of the next hill. There, the land before her sloped gently down into a snow covered plain. In its center was a ring of standing stones, twelve monoliths in a circle wide enough to fit a longship. The wolf paced along the inside of the ring, and Knud circled in the opposite direction, moving closer and closer to it. Lana pushed herself into a sprint. Now she was close enough to see the dull shine of the short iron blade as Knud held it pointed at the wolf.
Ahead, two standing stones formed a gate. Lana ran through it just as Knud closed in on the wolf. It snapped at him, but its toothless mouth closed above his head as he ducked under it and thrust the knife up into the wolf’s chin. Lana’s steps faltered for an instant as the wolf reeled back. Knud lunged forward to strike again, slashing deep into the wolf’s leg. It folded like so much paper, and the wolf fell. Its three legs kicked at the air, and Knud stepped back, just out of their flailing arcs. He stalked around to the wolf’s back, stood behind its head, and raised the knife in both hands.
But now Lana was close. Surprise flashed across Knud’s face, and Lana knew it was her chance. She rammed into him, and they both fell to the snowy ground. Lana scrambled up first, and put herself between him and the wolf. Knud got to his feet more slowly. He was shivering. He raised the knife and pointed it at Lana.
“You were tightly bound. It should have been impossible for you to escape.”
Lana said nothing. Knud wasn’t important. She watched the knife.
Knud kept his distance and looked her over with searching eyes.
“I see now. I was alone from the start. You’re like the wolf. It was sent to test my valor, and you were sent to tempt me, to test my will.”
He lunged toward her. The knife was coming for her neck. She turned and let it hit her shoulder instead, gasping as it pierced her. Before Knud could pull away, she twisted her neck and bit down on his hand. She tasted blood, and felt the knuckles flex between her teeth as his fingers let go of the knife. Then his fist flew into her temple, and she stumbled back. But now she had the knife. She pulled it out of her shoulder with a shout and held it tight. Knud had stepped in close, grasping. Lana held the knife away from him, but instead, his hands wrapped around her throat. He pushed her to the snow and clenched down, cutting off Lana’s breath.
“When I see your brother, I’ll tell him you were a traitor.”
The hand holding the knife had been pinned behind her, pressed between the small of her back and the hard ground. She struggled to pull it free for a moment, then stopped. A shadow had risen above them, blotting out the sky. The wolf opened its mouth wide and bit down over Knud, clamping its jaws around his head and shoulders. He let go of Lana’s neck as the wolf lifted him into the air, hands clawing blindly at the wolf’s head, legs kicking wildly. The wolf tilted back its head like it was finishing a cup of strong liquor, and Knud slid down its throat and was gone.
Lana scrambled to her feet, sucking in a deep, cold breath. The wolf lowered its head and stared down at Lana with its empty sockets, mouth hanging open. Her legs tensed, her body telling her to run, but she stood her ground. He had learned to protect himself after all. Or had he protected her? She stepped forward, reaching her hands up toward the wolf’s head. Slowly, it lowered its head into her hands. Her fingers sank into the stiff black fur. It weighed almost nothing. Behind the head, the wolf’s body seemed to ripple and shift, moving like a cloth in a high wind. She brought its face down to hers so that its dry snout was just in front of her nose. There was no hot breath, no indication of life.
Except, she could hear breathing from somewhere deep inside the wolf’s form. As she focused on the sound, her fear melted away. She had heard it thousands of times in their parents home, with her brother lying on a straw mat beside her own, always asleep before her. The anxieties that had kept her from dreams had never bothered him. She had taken pride in that. She felt warmth wash over her, despite the cold. He was still there.
She felt the fur under the wolf’s chin, where Knud had stabbed it earlier. There was no blood around the cut, just a clean slice through dead, dry skin. Slowly, gently, she used the knife to lengthen the cut, just like skinning a wolf, down the chest and along the belly. As the knife passed, the wolf’s head deflated. Whatever force had animated it was leaking out as a dry, smoke-scented gust. Lana stepped away as the giant pelt fell to the ground, limp. It was draped over two human forms, one larger and one smaller. She knelt and reached in through the long cut she had made, running her fingers along the dry, flaking skin on the inside of the pelt until they found her brother. He was warm, alive. For a moment, she hesitated, not sure what she might see. She took a breath and gently lifted him out.
He looked like himself. He was heavier now than when they’d been captured, grown from a year of eating meat around the warriors’ fires and training with an axe, but it was still him. His expression was peaceful, his eyes closed. Lana bent her forehead down to touch his for a moment. Warm affection bloomed in her chest, making a bittersweet blend with the old guilt. Then, she caught a flicker of motion out of the corner of her eye, and felt her brother’s body lurch in her arms. Knud’s wrinkled hand had reached out from the wolf pelt and clamped around his ankle. The old chieftain’s voice came muffled from beneath the black fur.
“The both of you were traitors! I should have left you in that hovel.”
Lana gently set her brother down and began to pry Knud’s fingers away, one by one.
“No!” Knud’s voice came out strangled. “You can’t take him from me! He swore an oath!”
When Lana peeled back Knud’s middle finger, his grip slipped, and her brother was free. She picked him up again and turned away.
“Don’t leave me alone!”
She didn’t turn back.
❅
Her brother slept soundly as she carried him across the valley and up the hill. The snow settled on his clothes and hair, and she stopped to brush it away. They crossed through the birch forest, where the yellow leaves were fringed with white, and reached the snowy beach.
She climbed into the longship and, with an effort, she lifted him after her. The falling snow had blanketed every surface. Lana made a makeshift bed for her brother at the prow of the ship using the richly dyed wool that had been one of Knud’s grave gifts. The rest of the treasures, she tossed overboard one by one. Wherever they were going, her instincts told her it was best to travel light. A strong wind rose as she worked, blowing from the forest to the sea. When she finally raised the sail, it filled taut. Stones ground and popped under the keel as the ship was dragged out into the water. Lana watched the forest disappear into the fog, then the beach, then the island itself as it shrank to a shadow and vanished. She walked to the prow and sat down beside her brother, letting her eyes linger on his sleeping face. She set the iron knife on the deck beside him. It was long past time to give it to him. But for just a moment longer, just until he woke up, she wanted to watch over him again.
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