All Things Devour

twenty-two

The next afternoon, Sonya stood on the threshold of the open door to Gudbrand’s house, her hands balanced on Anton’s broad shoulders.

“You’ll barely have a moment to miss me,” he assured her, drawing a fond finger under her chin. Sonya frowned, and his thumb brushed her lower lip. Standing by the garden gate, Calder rolled his eyes towards the heavens. “What is it, Sonya?”

“I don’t have the best feeling about this,” she confessed, her eyes flicking from him to Calder. “Will you be all right?”

“Perfectly safe!” Anton said, his smile bright. “Watch.”

He threw his hand out toward Calder—and a sudden burst of invisible force sent the other draugr toppling over the garden fence. She heard cursing rise from the shrubbery, and the sky rumbled.

“I am not so easy to trick a second time,” Anton told her. “I will return from convening with the Jarl soon—and your v?rdr will behave himself.”

“He’d better,” she grumped, scowling at the sodden heap dragging itself out of the bushes. Calder looked over at them and curled his lip.

Sonya remained at the threshold long after both Calder and Anton had disappeared around the bend, her arms crossed against her middle as she stared into the distance.

“That’s enough of that,” Gudbrand said as he came into the room, drawing her away from the door. Sonya blinked as he closed it, and she looked up at him. “What’s on your mind that has you looking so serious, girl?”

Sonya just shook her head. “Just worried, I guess,” she told him, folding her hands together.

“Anton’ll be fine.”

“I know. I’m not worried about him, necessarily,” she corrected. “I’m worried about Ylva. About what she could be planning.”

“Aye, the witch,” Gudbrand sighed. “I can’t say how much help they’ll find from Asger. I warned the boy.” He shook his head. “I haven’t had much cause in my time to meet the hag, not being a seidmadr myself. But people have been growing mighty suspicious of her for years.”

“What do you think will happen if we just…let her be?”

Gudband blew air through his lips, his beard shifting. “Oh, I don’t think she’d let Anton and Calder be. Nor you, for that matter—or any of the rest of us. Ylva’s a problem that’s only going to get worse. She’ll keep killing seidmenn, and Vidarheim will suffer until sinks into the sea.”

His words sat heavy in the following silence, and Sonya wrung her hands. She couldn’t imagine what would drive a woman to murder and cause ruin with such disregard for her own countrymen.

“Power is a heady thing,” Anton told her that morning as they dressed. “And she doesn’t need Vidarheim when push comes to shove. If she cannot control the realm through Calder or another head seidmadr, she’ll cut the cord.” He mimicked snipping scissors with his hand. “She’ll kill all the seidr users, and the realm will die.”

Sonya didn’t know anything about power , and so had no conception of what Ylva would do to retain it. Calder and Anton had gone to the Jarl for his assistance, but what if he had none to offer? What if he didn’t act in time?

“That’s enough of this dreary talk,” Gudbrand settled on, thumping his chest. Sonya shook off her wool-gathering and glanced up at him. “Well, go ahead. Let’s get a good look at you.”

Sonya smiled widely, just to expose and show off her pointed teeth. Gudbrand tapped the bottom of her chin to tilt her head back more, and he chuckled.

“Look at that. A proper draugar,” he said with a strong nod. “Good! Have you given any thought on what you’ll do now?”

Sonya’s smile faded, and she shook her head. “I’m really not sure. I—don’t say anything to Anton, but I wasn’t certain I’d make it this far.”

His eyes softened. “Aye,” he agreed. “I wasn’t too sure either. But, you’ve pulled through, and whatever you plan on doing, make sure you use that head of yours. You’ve taken the time to fill it full of knowledge and learning.” He tapped her brow. “It’d be a damn shame for it to go to waste.”

He returned to the kitchen, leaving Sonya to stare after him and puzzle over his meaning. She touched the spot on her brow where he’d tapped her.

“My head, huh?” she muttered. What can an erstwhile academic do in a place like Vidarheim? Sonya didn’t know, but she was excited to find out—but only if Ylva was dealt with. Otherwise, there was no future for anyone in the realm.

She cast a final, anxious glance toward the door, then headed deeper into the house.

The patter of rain upon the window glass woke Sonya from a dreamless sleep.

She eased open her groggy eyes and saw sunlight smudged against the shuttered window, the hazy effulgence of sunset being shrouded in thickening clouds. The water made distortions in the weak glow, but it wasn’t overly loud. In fact, it sounded rather soothing, so Sonya didn’t know why she’d woken. Daylight typically kept her asleep until nightfall.

Sonya eased herself up onto her arms, yawning. Her room felt chilled, far more so than it should be, and the rain seemed to increase in volume. A draft crossed her cheek, fluttering through her mussed hair.

I didn’t open a window, Sonya thought.

“Anton?” she croaked, swallowing past her dry throat. Had he returned from the Jarl? Sonya remembered staying up, waiting, but Gudbrand had ushered her off to bed as noon approached, the hardest hour for a new draugr. With night approaching, Anton must have returned. “Anton?” she tried again.

Something rustled at the foot of the bed.

Sonya glanced down, curious, but she saw nothing at first, only the long shadow cast by the bulky wardrobe. Then—that shadow shifted, lunged, and she gasped as the black shape of a mostly transparent body flew across the bed toward her.

“Anton—!” Sonya started to shriek, but she couldn’t say another word when the shadow’s strange hands wrapped about her throat. She struggled, kicking out, but her feet collided with air. She tried grabbing the shadow’s arms, and her fingers passed right through it.

What—?!

She couldn’t breathe. The shadow pinned her to the bed, and she couldn’t roll, couldn’t writhe free from beneath it. What was it?! Where had it come from?! Why was it doing this?!

A growl sounded in the dark, silver eyes near the floor flashing like searchlights across the water. Fiske came scampering out of the darkness, quick as could be on his lithe feet, springing toward the bed. His small hands curled into the shadow and tore at it, the shadow’s wails like a ghostly orchestra that pierced Sonya’s ears and sent her reeling.

The room trembled. Fiske ripped at the shadow with his hands and gnashed his sharp, pointed teeth.

Footsteps clattered in the hall. The door survived being flung open, but only barely, and Sonya covered her eyes against the sudden burst of white light filling the room. The shadow screamed .

When it faded, Sonya eased her shaking hands from her face and squinted toward the door. Anton stood there, cloak askew, breathing hard, his hand help up with the dwindling glimmer of seidr smoldering in his palm. He glared with anger at the burnt remnants of black ash scattered on the floorboards.

A vague scrap of darkness tried slithering away into the crack. Snarling, Anton clenched his fist, and the shadow vanished.

Gasping for breath, Sonya sat up, one hand on her neck as she stared at the floor. “What on earth was that ?!” she cried.

“Ylva.”

Sonya hadn’t noticed Calder in the doorway, and she jumped upon hearing him. Anton stepped closer to the bed and idly drew the sheet over her bare legs, still scowling at the room.

“Ylva?” Sonya repeated, looking between Anton and Calder. The latter draugr curled his lip, half hidden in the shadow where he lingers. Fiske—crouched upon the floor—hissed at him. Calder barked something in a language Sonya didn’t have the wits to understand, and when Fiske hissed again, he made as if to physically remove him.

Sonya opened her arms, and the small draugr darted up onto the bed, letting her gather him close.

“It is Ylva sending a warning,” Calder continued. To Anton, he added, “She must know we went to the Jarl.”

Anton shook his head, still checking around the room. He discovered the open window, rainwater gathering upon the wooden sill, and he slammed it shut, spelling the wood dry.

“She tried to kill me!” Sonya exclaimed, still feeling the pressure upon her throat.

“Draugr cannot be strangled,” Calder retorted. “Really, Anton, have you taught this one nothing?”

Anton’s head snapped around to fire a glare so poisonous in his direction that Calder faltered.

“Have you taught Sonya nothing?”

His inspection of the room completed, Anton lowered himself to sit on the edge of Sonya’s bed, his hand coming out grip her leg. She welcomed the comforting weight, but she held onto Fiske a little tighter.

She’d been attacked in her own bed. Attacked by—by a shadow! How could Calder consider that a warning?

“We cannot waste more time.” When he spoke, Anton’s voice sounded tired, and it belied his age. “The Jarl…cannot help. Seidr is needed to defeat seidr, and Calder and I are the last seidmenn of any real ability in Vidarheim. The Jarl will reach out to the Albians for assistance….”

“But it’ll be too late,” Calder finished. “Ylva is selfish. If she knows we’ve exposed her activities to the Jarl and that he’s about to find more seidr users to flush her out, she’ll attack Vidarheim. As the mortals say, we haven’t got time to fuck around.”

Anton’s grip tightened. Sonya extended her hand to cover his.

“You’ll have to bring her,” Calder said, leaning his shoulder upon the door frame.

Anton glanced at him, frowning. “I don’t wish to.”

“But you know you must, bródir.”

“Do not call me brother,” he replied, his fingers sliding along Sonya’s shin, lost in thought.

Calder scoffed, looking away, an uncomfortable flush on his cheeks. “She can get through the wards,” he said at length. “Break the lodestone. It wouldn’t be difficult for her. We need to be swift, Anton. We have given her too long already. If we give her time to scheme, she will find a way to kill me. If I’m dead, then Vidarheim will be exposed.”

Anton’s eyes rose to find Sonya’s, and they gazed at one another. Her heart thumped with fear, but she determined to be brave, to help Anton do what must be done, and to not hold him back.

She nodded, and Anton sighed.

“Dawn, then,” he said. “We’ll leave at dawn.”