I stilled, and beside me, Arin shifted uncomfortably. “Why would you call them that?”
If possible, Donal grew even paler. “When I look at them . . . I see only skeletons and red flames where their hearts should be.”
I thought of the way I saw my undead army. They were shrouded in mist, and it seemed to take a great effort to make out any details on their faces, but they didn’t look like skeletons to me. “They look like any other warrior,” I said.
“Not to me.”
“You have the sight,” Arin said, awe in his tone. “Were you Sigtrygg’s seer?”
Donal took a step back. “Seer? I—no. No, of course not.”
Arin looked at me with confusion plain on his face. I remembered how Sigrid was respected by the Northmen, or at the very least, tolerated. “The sight is considered heretical in our culture,” I explained. “Something only pagans use.”
Arin snorted. “No wonder you Celts were so easy to raid.”
I gave him a warning glare and returned my attention to Donal. “And what do you see when you look at me?”
“My queen, I . . .”
“No harm will come to you, Donal. I am only curious.”
He took a steadying breath. “Crows’ feathers in your hair, death at your side.”
I nodded slowly. I didn’t need a seer to tell me what such symbols meant. At least he hadn’t said I looked like a skeleton. “And when you think of our quest in the north? What do you see then?”
“I see you riding a horse made of fire instead of flesh, the ground quaking beneath you. Nothing else—nothing helpful. This sight never shows me anything but symbols and riddles.”
He sounded frustrated, and I could empathize. “Thank you for being so forthcoming with me, and I hope . . . I hope to earn your respect instead of your fear.”
He bowed his head as though ashamed. “What did you wish to speak with me about, my queen?”
“When we leave for the north, I would like for you to stay and advise those who remain behind. Will you do this for me?”
“It would be an honor,” he said, a tentative but relieved smile on his face.
I touched his shoulder and was happy when he didn’t flinch away. “Thank you, Donal. Rest in your own home this night, and in the morning, report to the castle courtyard.”
After thanking me, he hurried away into the night, and I turned to Arin. “What about you? Are you ready to sleep?”
Arin shook his head. “I’d rather sleep on the ship as we sail. Helps to pass the time.”
“Then help me find Oleif and Erik. With Donal’s touch of the sight, I think ten men should be able to hold the city, but I want their opinions on who should stay behind.”
I started toward another longship, but Arin’s words stopped me. “I’m not afraid of you, you know.”
I turned back with a smile. “I’m relieved to hear it.”
“That army you have is pretty terrifying, but you aren’t.”
I smiled and rubbed the top of Arin’s head. “Nothing should be terrifying to you after seeing what that monster did.”
He smiled, his teeth bright white even in the dim light. “I could help you fight one next time.”
His arrogance was so like his brother’s it was like a vise upon my heart. “You could not, and you will not. Any more talk like that, and I’ll be sure to leave you behind.”
“You’re as bad as Leif.”
I leaned in close. “I’m worse.” I straightened and moved away. “Now, come. We must find Erik and Oleif.”
He followed reluctantly, and I vowed to myself and to God I would not allow any harm to come to him—no matter how badly he might wish it upon himself.
20
The sun rose much too soon, and by the time I’d finished deciding who’d stay behind with Oleif, Erik, and Donal, I could only rest my head on Sleipnir’s neck and greet the sunrise with an irritable squint. Arin sat on the quay not far from me, his back against a post.
The men who’d slept on the ships now made the final preparations. I watched as two men wrestled with a massive wooden cage full of ravens, and my eyebrows drew together.
“Surely we won’t be eating those,” I called out to one of the men. The birds quieted at the sound of my voice, their eyes trained on me as one. It was eerie, but not in a threatening way.
The man glanced down at the cage before looking back at me. “We bring them to be sure we’re staying close to land.”
His words made a quiver of anxiety run through me. Soon we would be at the mercy of the open waters. The man carried the cage to the largest ship, and it was in the light of day that I realized there were distinct differences. The largest, which I recognized as Leif’s, had a prow that was so ornately carved it was almost beautiful. From a distance, all I’d seen was the gaping maw of the dragon, but up close, I could see the knotwork so lovingly carved. The sail had not yet been raised, but I knew it to be white with a bloodred skeletal dragon insignia. I only hoped it would strike fear in the hearts of the j?tnar who saw it bearing down on them, as it had in mine when I saw it appear along the coast of éirinn.
Beside Leif’s ship was another that was shorter by at least twenty feet, but much wider and sturdier. Onto this ship the men led various livestock, including many warhorses taken from the former king’s stables. Tarpaulins were secured in the middle, providing a semblance of shelter for the animals.
“I hadn’t realized you Northmen had different types of ships.”
Arin gave me that same look of surprise he always did when I showed my ignorance of his people. “You thought we only had the longships? But how would merchants transport goods or livestock?”
He had a point, of course. “Then that ship there”—I pointed to the one animals were being loaded onto—“is a merchant ship?”
He nodded. “We call it a knarr. The rest are longships, but Leif’s is the largest, with room enough for thirty-two to row.”
Just then hooves thudding dully on the quay alerted me to the approach of someone, and as I turned, I saw Leif with my army following. My army marched slowly but steadily until they reached the quay. I watched as one by one, they stood at attention, awaiting my command.
Leif guided Abrax until he was level with Sleipnir. Arin took one look at his brother and suddenly developed a fascination with untying a knotted rope far across the quay from us. I stood my ground as emotions warred within me: anger and frustration over his stupidity in trading his own life, but also that burst of joy I had whenever I saw him now. I tried not to drink in the sight of him, but I shamed myself by staring at him like someone dying of thirst stares at fresh water. How could I lose him? He dismounted, and I did the same. “You never returned,” he said, his expression guarded.
I tried to hold on to my anger, and I wove it around me like a shield against the hurt in his eyes. “I had to gather men who would stay behind. Dubhlinn cannot be left undefended.”
He moved closer to me, until I could feel the heat radiating from his body. “You ran away.”
“You told me you’d be dead at the end of this,” I said, unable to keep the anger from my voice. “All this time, we’ve been together, and you fail to tell me we might defeat the giants only for you to lose your life. You didn’t think it was something I should know?”