“Shall I let you know,”
Hallgerd said, her voice high and taunting,
“the moment my blade breaks his skin?”
“Please,” I begged Hallgerd, because I knew there was no reasoning with the fire inside me.
Hallgerd’s laughter in my head was a wild thing.
“Would you bargain with me? What compensation can you possibly offer for Gunnar’s life?”
“You have my mother’s life.” My voice grew wild as hers. “Isn’t that enough?”
“There’s no such thing as enough, not anymore. He flinches quite nicely, Haley. Even so, he says you should not listen to me. Foolish boy. Do you think whether Haley listens or not matters to me anymore?”
I clutched the broken roof with my free hand, but drew away when it began smoldering again. In the distance below, from the smaller outbuildings that surrounded this one, people—servants?—began making their way nervously outside. Closer by, Gunnar’s killers were indeed silently digging holes for their dead, while an old woman shouted at them, cussing up a blue streak.
“She refused him her hair,” one of the gravediggers said. He laughed. “Did you hear? She is a bad woman, that one.”
As if
they
hadn’t wanted him dead. As if they hadn’t struck the blows that killed him. I moved closer to the edge. I swayed, dizzy a moment, ghost flames all around me.
“Jump,”
the fire in me roared.
“Jump.”
“Yes,”
Hallgerd agreed.
“Why not jump? What’s left for you to lose?”
“Only this island,” I whispered. “Only the world.”
“What good has the world ever done either of us?”
No. You didn’t destroy the whole world because your own life was messed up. I stepped away from the edge, though it would have been easy—too easy—to set the fire loose.
Down below, a young woman rode up on horseback, taking in the men and the old woman with a glance. The old woman cursed at her, too. The young woman ignored her, dismounted, dropped the horse’s reins, and ran for the house. I heard her footsteps on the ladder below. “Mama?” she called, her voice tight with concern.
I turned slowly around. She climbed up into the loft, her wool riding cloak wrapped tight around her. A few blond strands fell loose from beneath her hood. She was younger than Hallgerd, older than me, with a stubborn set to her chin. My throat tightened as I realized who she must be. Thorgerd. Hallgerd’s daughter.
In my head, Hallgerd caught her breath.
“I told her to stay home. I told her to stay safe.”
Thorgerd’s gray eyes swept over the loft to where Gunnar lay. Her father?—no, she’d called herself someone else’s daughter in the spellbook. Even so, she let out a little sigh. “It is over, then.” She walked over to Gunnar, knelt beside him, and gently shut his eyes. When she stood there was blood on
her skirt. “I’m sorry, Mama.” She held out her hands to me. Strong hands—unlike mine, they didn’t shake.
She’s lost her mother, too. She just doesn’t know it yet
. I took her hands—though mine were still stained with Gunnar’s blood—not knowing what else to do. Her skin felt cool against mine.
“So warm,” Thorgerd muttered. “You’re always warm, Mama, but today—” She drew me into a fierce hug. As I awkwardly hugged her back, I felt something leap from me to her, like a small electric shock. A trickle of the fire beneath my skin left me.
I drew sharply away. The phantom flames faded to bright afterimages, as if I’d looked too long into the sun. The roaring in my ears subsided to a whisper.
“If you
dare
to hurt her—”
Hallgerd left the thought unfinished.
“Of course I wouldn’t hurt her!” I wouldn’t let the fire in me touch Thorgerd or anyone else if I could help it.
“Whom do you speak to? Your eyes—they are not my mother’s eyes.” Thorgerd’s gaze narrowed. “What thievery is this? Who are you?”
I looked down, unwilling to meet that gaze. I’d stolen her mother, even if I hadn’t meant to, just like Hallgerd had stolen mine. Not that losing Hallgerd was all that great a loss.
“Haley!”
There was pain in Hallgerd’s voice.
“I have never harmed my daughter. What do you take me for?”
“You killed my mother,” I said.
“It was not my—”
Hallgerd’s voice fell silent.
Thorgerd pressed her lips together. “Sorcery.” She reached beneath her cloak for something—a knife?—then thought better of it. Her face hardened. “I know well enough my mother meddled with forces beyond this world. She did what she could to shelter me from them, but true dreams run in our family. She could only hide so much.”
Heat was building in me again, flames flickering at the edges of my sight. Sweat trickled beneath my dress. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorrow serves no one. Tell me what we need to do to call her back.”
I glanced at Gunnar’s lifeless body. “I don’t think she wants to come back.”
In my head, I could
feel
Hallgerd’s listening silence.
Thorgerd made a dismissive sound. “My mother is many things, but a coward is not one of them.”
“Haley. Give me the coin.”
Hallgerd’s words were careful, measured.
“I would leave you to your fate—do not doubt it—but I’ll not abandon my daughter. Return my life to me, and I’ll return yours to you. Let that serve as compensation enough for the lives we’ve both taken.”
I’d had no choice. I didn’t owe her any compensation—maybe that didn’t matter. Maybe she’d thought she had no choice, too. The air before me wavered. The roaring grew
loud again, so loud. What would happen once the fire burst through my skin?
Even in my own time, that fire might destroy me yet. I could stay here. I could make Hallgerd’s daughter suffer as I’d suffered, knowing her mother was stolen from her—no. I couldn’t. Just like I couldn’t leave Ari and Jared—and Dad—to wonder forever what had happened to me.
“You’re right,” I told Thorgerd, though I could barely hear my own voice over the roaring. “Your mother is no coward.” I fumbled for the coin I’d dropped.
“Wait.” Thorgerd took my hands again. I felt more fire flowing from me to her. When she pulled her hands away, the heat beneath my skin had cooled a little more. At my startled look, Thorgerd smiled. “I know more of sorcery than my mother thinks. I would have taken some of the fire from her years ago, if only she’d let me. I am sorry I cannot take more.” She laid her hand on my shoulder. “Go now. Return to your own place, and give my mother back to me.”
“Thank you.” I picked up the coin. To Hallgerd I said, “Swear to me you won’t set your fire loose once I’m gone, not if you can help it.”
Hallgerd laughed bitterly.
“You control the spell. The fire follows you, not me. I give up much because of you, Haley.”
Too much fire—but better that fire stay with me than remain behind with Hallgerd. I would at least try to control
it, and I still wasn’t sure Hallgerd would. I drew my hand back to throw the coin.
The air blurred before me, and I saw the path once more. Far away, at the end of that path, I saw a girl—myself, only my eyes were gray, not brown—kneeling before the bowl of Freki’s blood and chanting.
Not really me. Hallgerd. She reached out her hand.
“A gift!” I called, and threw the coin to her. The path came into sharper focus. On it I saw Thorgerd’s daughters and granddaughters and great-granddaughters. The path branched—not all Thorgerd’s descendants were my ancestors—but the branches that didn’t lead to me disappeared into the distance.
Sunlight glinted off the burning silver as it flew. Hallgerd caught the coin, and that light shone through her fingers.
“Goodbye, Haley. I leave you to your life, and I return to what remains of mine.”
The light pulled me along the path, and the fire beneath my skin came with me, all of it, flaring hotter once more. My skin seemed suddenly thin, my hair and limbs and thoughts all made of fire. For a heartbeat I knew the fire would destroy me and burn through to the wide world, right here, right now. But then a green-eyed girl—Thorgerd’s daughter—grabbed my hands as I passed her. A spark of fire leaped from me to her. An older woman with a long blond braid did the same, and then another woman with tangled curls falling into her face.
One by one they held out their hands, all of my ancestors, each of them taking a spark—or more than a spark—of power from me, bleeding the fire away. How did they know?
Take some of the fire if you can, but do not take too much
. Thorgerd had told them so, in her spellbook. For a thousand years she and her descendants had passed down everything I’d need. Hallgerd must have told her daughter what had happened after all—or maybe Thorgerd had figured it out.
True dreams run in our family
.
The roaring turned to anger.
“Free!”
the fire spirits screamed.
“How dare you deny us? We would be free!”
I felt the fire in me slowly lessen from the firestorm it was to a mere bonfire. The roaring in my ears—the voices of the fire creatures—turned to whispers. I still burned hot, too hot, but the fire was only enough to destroy me now, not the world around me.
“Thank you,” I told each of my ancestors in turn. “Thank you.”
My own grandmother’s grandmother took my hands, taking a spark of my fire. Almost enough—but the bonfire burned on. My great-grandmother and grandmother looked at me with confusion, concern—but they’d grown up thousands of miles from Thorgerd and her warnings. They took nothing from me.
“We cannot have the world,”
the fire spirits whispered,
“but we can destroy you. We
will
destroy you.”
Fire caressed my face, my arms, my hair. It didn’t hurt anymore, which scared me more than any pain.
At least the fire will consume only me
.
The last woman on the path looked up at me—or maybe she’d never stopped looking. My mother’s gray eyes grew wide.
Please, please don’t let her see me die
.
She dropped what she was holding—a coin, the same coin I’d held, only she’d caught it a year before I had—and ran to me. The fire seemed to fade as my mother drew me close. I clung to her, inhaling the scent of her hair, remembering how it felt to be safe in her arms. “Mom. I missed you so much.”
“Haley, how on earth—” Mom stroked my hair, drew back, and touched my face. “Honey, you’re burning up.” She grabbed my hands.
“Mom, no!”
Too late—fire flowed from me to her, fast and fierce. Mom hadn’t read Thorgerd’s warnings, either. She didn’t know not to take too much. Or maybe she did know. I tried to pull away, but she wouldn’t let go. She drew me closer instead.
It happened so fast, flames leaping at her arms and legs and hair. In moments she turned to ashes in my arms, leaving only the faintest spark of fire behind. “Mom!”
I fell to my knees with a gasp, and my eyes flew open. My hands were covered with fox blood, and a smooth silver coin lay in my palm. The pattern etched upon it was
gone, the magic spent at last. Water dripped from the gray sky and my wet hair, dimpling the surface of the blood in the bowl. Most of that blood was gone now; only enough remained to cover the stone. Wind blew, and I shivered, feeling the cold down to my bones.
Ari stared down at me, a knife in one hand and a blue LED flashlight in the other. “Haley?” he asked, but his voice was uncertain.
I let the coin fall to the grass, where Freki’s limp body still lay. The fox’s open eyes reminded me of Gunnar. Thinking of Thorgerd, I closed them, then looked up at Ari. “Yeah, Luke,” I said, in English so there could be no doubt. “It’s me.”
“Oh, good,” Ari said in Icelandic. He fell to his knees as well. “I wasn’t sure I could keep that up much longer. Hallgerd was distracted, I don’t know why, but I got the knife away from her, and then she didn’t like the flashlight any more than Svan did, only after that she said she was leaving, so I let her say the spell and—are you all right, Haley?”
I shook my head. “Mom.” My voice came out as a shuddering sob. “She’s gone.”
“Oh,” Ari said softly. He set down the knife and took me into his arms. I buried my head against his jacket. It smelled faintly of seawater and of bear. Cool tears flowed down my face. “Mom didn’t
know
. She took too much fire. I couldn’t stop her.”
Ari didn’t try to tell me everything was all right. He
didn’t even ask what I was talking about. He just held me as I cried on and the rain drizzled all around us.
What is the fate of the world, against this one life?
The sound of wingbeats made us both stiffen. I drew away slowly. Ari took my hand, and we got to our feet as Muninn landed in the wet grass in front of us. The little black-and-white terns landed beside him, and then came a second raven who watched us thoughtfully but said nothing. I looked down into Muninn’s small dark eyes. Did my human life mean anything more to him than to his master? Did Mom’s? “You can’t take my memories anymore.” I kept my voice steady, though I still felt tear-tracks on my cheeks. “So what do you want with me?”
Muninn’s wings beat the air. “Only to offer my thanks. You have done better than I expected, Haley, Amanda and Gabriel’s daughter, and so this land will hold a time longer. I shall return to it all its memories of you. I trust you will accept that as payment for my misjudging you?”
The salty taste of my tears reminded me of a piece of licorice, offered freely by a girl who thought I was a ghost. I was so tired of every gift having a price. “Just make sure you give back the land’s memories of me and Ari both.”
“Very well.” Muninn lifted his beak toward Ari. “So long as I am dispensing gifts, do you wish to forget your warrior ancestors once more?”
Ari hesitated, then shook his head. “No. Only—I would like to get to decide when to change, if I may.”
Muninn threw his head back, and the glint in his eyes was like laughter. “You need only remove the jacket for that.” The laughter died as he stalked past us to where Freki’s body lay. The other raven followed him. They stared at the fox, their wings utterly still, and then Muninn tipped the driftwood bowl over with his beak.