Thief Eyes

Chapter 10

Even as the bear began to leap, Svan pointed at Ari and chanted:

Fur and bearskin melted away. It was a human boy who knocked Svan to the ground and landed crouched on top of him. Sweat streamed down Ari’s face. “Leave her alone.”

Svan chuckled. “So you’re a berserk, are you? I underestimated you, boy.” The sorcerer got to his feet, dumping Ari roughly to the ground. Ari scrambled up, shoulders tensed. I hurried to his side. His legs wobbled, and he grabbed my arm for balance.

“That’s the thing about the berserks,” Svan said. “You’re strong enough during a change, but not much use afterward. Even so”—he grinned, as if he hadn’t attacked me a moment before—“you could do worse, Haley.”

Ari and I took a few steps back. “Just stay away,” I said.

Svan held out his hands as if to say, Whatever. His palms were burned and beginning to blister. He hardly seemed to notice. I did that. The thought didn’t bother me as much as it should have.

Svan looked at Ari. “So whose line are you through? Skallagrim, perhaps?”

Ari eyed him warily. “Mom and I are through Hallgerd’s line, actually, just like Haley.”

“Indeed?” Svan stroked his beard. “What of your father’s people?”

Ari drew his arms across his chest. “My father has nothing to do with anything. He ran away before I was born.” Yet he glanced at his jacket, as if uncertain.

Svan reached toward the jacket. Ari growled at him, and Svan stepped back. Score one for us.

“My dad left it behind.” Ari switched to English—words for me, not Svan. His wary gaze never left the sorcerer, though. “I found the jacket in Mom’s closet a few years ago. I do not know why she didn’t get rid of it. I do not know why he didn’t take it with him.”

“Do you think he knew? About being a bear?” I spoke English, too, while Svan stared at us both.

“How should I know?” Ari snapped. “It is not like he ever calls.”

Wind tugged at my sleeves, my strange short hair. “I’m sorry.” I tried to imagine never having known my dad. Angry as I was, the thought brought no comfort.

Ari shifted uneasily. “He is the one who should be sorry, yeah?” Silence thickened around us, no sound but the wind.

“So,” Svan said, “if you two are done with your love talk, perhaps we can get back to business?” Tension crept into his casual words. “You felt the earthquake, Haley. That was Hallgerd’s work, of course.” He glanced down at his burned hands. “I did not know Hallgerd’s magic had rooted in you so deeply.”

Svan didn’t know the fire in me hadn’t come from Hallgerd. The coin remained in my pocket, but its power seemed a small thing beside the fire banked beneath my skin. Would Svan decide he needed to destroy me, too, if he knew I held fire of my own?

Was it really my fire that had caused the earth to shake? Wouldn’t Dad love that? Earthquakes whenever he wants them. I fought down a hysterical giggle.

“The earthquakes will only get worse, the longer the coin remains intact,” Svan said. “If you will not destroy it, give it to me. The spell will be weaker if I cast it, but at least I don’t lack the will to do what needs to be done.” Svan stepped toward me. Ari tensed at my side. The sorcerer held out his hand.

The sky and clouds were dark now, the world around us mostly shadow. I looked toward the overhang. A huge boulder had slid down from the hill above it, half blocking the opening. In the distance, other piles of rubble lay at the base of other hills, sent tumbling down by the quake.

People died in earthquakes. Had Muninn been right to hide me away, where I couldn’t do any harm? But Muninn couldn’t have known what would happen, not unless the raven could see the future as well as remember the past.

If I gave the coin to Svan, it wouldn’t do anything for my fire, and Svan would find another fox to kill. I couldn’t let him do that.

Not even to save the world from Hallgerd’s magic, which I already knew could do as much harm as mine? Mom—Just thinking about Mom opened up a huge empty space inside of me. The sparks within me yearned toward that place. Offered to fill it, to burn the ache away.

No. I forced the sparks down.

“The coin, Haley.” Svan’s gray eyes were hard as stone.

“What if we send the coin back to Hallgerd?” What if we did what Katrin wanted? Thinking about Katrin made me want to dig my nails into my palms—but better that than hurting one of Freki’s kin.

“Don’t be stupid,” Svan said. “Hallgerd would only gain more power were the coin returned to her. Only your holding it keeps the spell in check, and even that protection will only last so long. There is no telling what Hallgerd will do once her own power is set free. She was very angry when last I saw her.”

How long ago was that, though? I’m content to live and die by Gunnar’s side. Maybe Hallgerd wouldn’t do anything after all.

Or maybe she would. I drew my arms around myself. It was nearly full dark now. Through the thinning clouds, a huge yellow moon rose over the water. I still didn’t want to give anything back to Hallgerd, but this wasn’t just about what I wanted.

Svan stepped toward me. Ari stepped toward him, teeth bared.

“Stop!” I told them both. “I—I need to think!”

Svan halted. “I need to get my courage up,” I said, thinking fast. Ari returned to my side. Fire or no fire, neither of us was stronger than Svan. That meant we had to delay him and get away—but how? The knife lay a few yards behind us, by the bowl. I wasn’t sure I could get to it faster than Svan could. All I had in my backpack were some chocolate malt balls, a bottle of water, and—a skin of mead. Mead that wasn’t drugged, but that was too strong for mortals to handle.

“Let’s have a drink,” I said—too quickly, but Svan didn’t seem to notice. “To help with that courage.”

Ari gave me a puzzled look, but the hardness left Svan’s eyes. “You did not say you had drink with you, Haley. The world can wait a short time more. Where is this drink?”

“In my pack.” I glanced at the overhang, lit by moonlight, half-covered by the boulder. I knew it wasn’t safe to go into buildings after earthquakes. Was a rocky outcrop any different?

Svan didn’t seem concerned—he grinned and headed for the overhang, his feet crunching through half-frozen puddles. As he dove beneath the stones, Ari whispered in English, “Do you really think that is wise?”

“Trust me,” I said, also in English. This had better work, I thought.

Svan returned and handed me the pack, which was still a little damp. He’d brought the last few pieces of driftwood as well, and he set them down on the beach. He slid a few pieces of papery wood beneath them, made a motion with his hands, and whispered words I couldn’t hear. A small flame caught beneath the wood. The fire in me rose in response.

With a whoosh the wood burst into brighter flame. I burst into flame, too, into fire reaching for the sky, even as the earth shook beneath me—

No! With a wrench I forced the flames down, down, down. I staggered back, sweat pouring down my face, knowing that I hadn’t really been burning, not on the outside. Svan’s fire kept going, not so brightly now. The earth was still. Ari caught me as I fell to my knees. “Sorry,” I whispered.

Svan gave me a long look. “This had better be strong drink.”

“It is. I promise.” I got to my feet, rummaged through the bag, and pulled out Freki’s wineskin. I pulled out the malt balls, too, inhaled a mouthful, and offered the bag to Ari, who did the same. Somehow we’d have to get real food eventually. I sat cross-legged beside Svan and handed him the mead.

Ari offered Svan the malt balls as well—less than a handful was left—as he sat beside me. The sorcerer shook his head and uncorked the skin. Please, please let this work.

Svan drew the skin toward his lips, stopped, and sniffed it. His eyes narrowed. Shit.

“What treachery is this?” Svan’s voice was low, like Dad’s voice when he got angry. “Do you think me a fool, who does not know what you offer me?”

“Umm.” Now what?

Ari looked back and forth between us. “The mead of poetry,” Svan said, answering his unasked question. “Haven’t I rested in Muninn’s mountain long enough, Haley?” Svan’s voice dripped disdain as he handed the skin back to me, still open.

“Wait—that’s the mead of poetry?” Ari’s eyes grew wide by the firelight. He reached toward the skin.

“Don’t.” I drew it away. “It’ll make you sleep—”

“Yeah, but—”

“But what?”

“If I could write a decent poem for once—a decent song …” He reached for the skin again, then hesitated.

“Oh no, you don’t!” I pulled the thing out of his reach. “I need you here.” I turned the skin upside down. No way was I taking a chance on Ari going unconscious on me.

The mead steamed as it hit the sand. The wind died, all at once.

Svan grabbed the skin from my hands and righted it. The remaining liquid sloshed inside. “You are a fool,” he muttered.

The earth trembled, ever-so-slightly, less like an earthquake than someone shivering at a too-gentle touch. Svan gestured down the beach. A fog bank moved toward us, silver gray in the moonlight. Within that fog a man ambled toward us with a slow rolling gait. His broad-brimmed hat covered one eye; his cloak was the same color as the fog.

Do not spill that. My master would not like it. How stupid was I? I hadn’t thought about Freki’s warning, though. I’d thought only about Ari.

Yet the man didn’t seem angry. He didn’t seem in any hurry to reach us, either. He smiled as he made his way down the beach. Then he saw me watching him, and he winked, though I should have been too far away to see. The trembling of the earth moved down beneath my skin. I started shivering and couldn’t stop. I looked at Ari and saw that he trembled, too, even as he cursed slowly and steadily under his breath.

My sight blurred, and I saw only fog, but the shivering went on. The fire in me burned hot, hot, hot, even as I shivered.

Svan corked the mead and tossed it into my backpack. “You must go.” He began putting other things in the pack as well: the wooden bowl, the knife in its sheath.

Leaving sounded awfully good to me, only—“Wait, if that’s Freki and Muninn’s master, can’t he destroy the coin?” Destroy it without killing anything in the process?

“Haley.” Svan spoke slowly, as if to a small child. “Muninn’s master does not fear the end of the world. He will fight it, to be sure—he and the fire spirits are old enemies—but he will throw everything he has into that fighting. You hesitate to kill a single fox; to him we’re all less than foxes. He won’t hesitate to sacrifice us.”

I opened my mouth; no sound came out. Ari got to his feet, reached for my hand, and pulled me up as well.

The mead had soaked deep into the sand, but steam still rose from the spot. Svan dug a couple of other items out of his bag—a raven’s claw, a dull black stone—and tossed them into the backpack as well.

“I don’t need that stuff. I—”

Svan reached for my shoulder, thought better of it, and let his hand drop. His expression turned almost gentle. “You are my kinswoman. I will do what I can to protect you. I will hold him off as long as I can. Only you must make it worth it. Destroy the coin. Not only for the land’s sake. I felt the fire within you—Hallgerd’s spell could consume you, too, if you do not end it.”

My fire didn’t come from Hallgerd’s spell, but even now I didn’t say so. “What about you?” What did I care about him, after the way he’d attacked me?

A sly smile crossed the sorcerer’s face. “I may be an old man, but I have a few tricks left in me.” He cast a wry look Ari’s way. “Perhaps I’ll see if my poems have more worth than yours. If nothing else, it should make a good story.”

The fog was closer now. I heard footsteps crunching over the sand. Svan thrust the bag at me and I zipped it shut. “Thank you.”

“Go!” the sorcerer said. He grabbed his staff and walked toward the fog. “Hello there!” he called, as if greeting an old friend.

Ari looked at me. “Now we run?” he said.

“No.” I remembered Katrin’s words. You must never run from magic.

So we walked away this time, even as Svan disappeared into the fog behind us.