When, he’d said. Not if, but when. He believes in me. He’s still set on helping me.
We stay like that for a moment, each of us intently watching the other. It isn’t until the trapdoor opens with a bang and Iric climbs through that we look away.
* * *
I’M STUCK ON THE floor of that tree house for a week before I can finally rise on my own. In all that time, I don’t broach the topic with Iric regarding our mattugrs again. And I let up on Soren and his fussing over me.
Despite being able to sit up and lie down, I know that I can’t strain the injury. Running or swinging my ax could open me up again. The bruise on my abdomen has faded to yellow, and the bump has gone away, but the last thing I want is to start bleeding internally again.
So instead of leaving for my fort, I stay with the boys.
“I made you something,” Soren says when he arrives home after finishing his chores. He handles something bulky in front of him.
“What is it?” I ask. I hope the question isn’t rude. Am I supposed to know what that wad of hides is? Some sort of blanket? It looks far too coarse for that.
“I’ve sewed some hides together but left an opening right here.” He points to one corner of the fabric.
All right …
“It’s a mattress for you. I’ve started hunting the birds we’ll need in order to stuff it with down—only edible ones, of course, so nothing goes wasted. Whether you stay with us or move back to your shelter, I thought you’d want something of your own to sleep on.”
I can’t speak for a moment, I’m so touched by the gesture. “Soren—thank you.”
“It’s nothing,” he says, a broad grin stretching his cheeks.
“You’re very kind. May the goddess take note of it.”
“And may your back never ache again,” he jokes awkwardly.
* * *
WHEN I’M BETTER ABLE to move around, I fall into more of a routine with the boys. I spend my mornings checking the traps for food, helping Iric in the forge, picking berries from the bushes, or chopping wood. In the afternoon, Soren and I run through stances with our axes, while Iric cooks dinner. In the evenings, we all talk. We laugh. We get to know each other better.
Without even realizing it, I’ve somehow come to think of both boys as my friends.
One morning, I’m helping Iric out in the forge. I hold a long sheet of metal steady while Iric pounds at it. He’s making me new guards for my forearm, since I lost those two sheets when experimenting with Peruxolo’s barrier.
I shake out my right foot. I’m not yet used to the silver dagger I keep in my boot. Soren helped me make a sheath for the weapon Peruxolo tried to kill me with, and now the blade rests against my lower calf and ankle. Someday, I hope I will get to return the weapon to Peruxolo.
Preferably by putting it through his eye.
Suddenly, Iric halts his pounding and turns to me, startling me out of the thought.
“When you teach me to swim, will you make fun of me during our lessons?”
The question comes out of nowhere. It’s something he’s clearly been thinking about for some time.
At last my patience is rewarded.
“Likely,” I answer honestly.
A slow blink. Deep sigh. Another pound with his hammer. “Fine.”
“Fine?”
“I want to learn how to swim. Will you teach me, Raz?”
I try desperately not to show how deep my elation runs. “Of course. We’ll start tomorrow.”
He nods. “And I will start thinking about how to make you armor that isn’t made of metal.”
“Thank you. You will also want to come up with a way for us to be on more equal footing when facing the hyggja. We can’t kill it with our axes. We will need something else.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. I already have some ideas, but it’s all moot if I can’t swim. I won’t be able to force myself near that lake if I can’t feel more comfortable around the water.”
“Do not worry. You will learn how to swim. It is not difficult. Your body floats on its own. You just need to learn how to hold it.”
Iric doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he’s committed. Tomorrow, we start swim lessons.
* * *
AFTER BREAKFAST THE NEXT DAY, Iric and I head out together.
“Where are you going?” Soren asks. “That’s not the way to the forge.”
“We’re bound for the pools,” I say.
“Why? It’s not wash day.”
I look to Iric. Let him tell his friend what he wishes to.
Iric pauses such a long time, I think he won’t answer. Then, “Rasmira’s … teaching me how to swim.”
Soren actually takes a step back at those words. “I’ve been offering to teach you to swim for the last year.”
“And I’ve been telling you for the last year that I don’t need your help. I don’t want anything from you.”
Tension ripples between the two boys. I’m not sure if I should step in or stay out of it.
Soren is the first to look away. “I’ll come with you. Keep watch from the side.”
“We don’t need your protection,” Iric insists.
I ignore him. “We’d be grateful to have the extra pair of eyes watching our backs.”
Iric turns his disgusted look on me, but I don’t back down.
“Don’t be an idiot,” I tell him.
I understand Iric’s frustration. It’s hard to allow others to see you at your weakest. I had to experience this firsthand while the boys were taking care of me. But I also know that true strength comes from being willing to fail in order to progress. That—if nothing else—is what I have learned from my mattugr.
Iric’s whole body tenses up, and I wonder if he will change his mind about the entire venture.
He surprises me by continuing toward the pools. I hurry to his side, and Soren drops back behind us.
“Hope you brought an extra shirt,” Iric grumbles out of the side of his mouth so Soren can’t hear. “You’ll want to double up, else Soren will lose his eyes as they bug from their sockets.”
He’s baiting me, angry that I’m letting Soren tag along. It’s not going to work.
“I’ve an extra shirt in my pack,” I say.
“Oh, excellent. And I’ll be doubling up on pants.” He smirks.
I snort. “I saw nothing that day you fell into the lake.”
He blusters for a moment. “A man is not at his best when submerged in cold water,” he says defensively.
“If you say so.”
“I do!”
“What are you talking about?” Soren asks from behind us.
“Nothing,” Iric says. He has his arms crossed angrily in front of his chest, while I try to hide a smile.
A twenty-minute walk from the tree house brings us to the pools. They’re a series of freshwater springs. Time has eroded the rocks, and some of the pools are several dozens of feet wide and reach depths well over our heads. Each pool runs into the one next to it. Little streams trickle off to the sides.
Another perk to living with the boys for the last couple of weeks has been discovering the pools they use for bathing. (They’re much preferable to the stream that runs by my shelter; I’m certain it’s ice-cold runoff from the mountain.) The pools are clear with very little plant growth. One can see straight to the rock-covered bottom of each one. Most importantly, they’re safe. Nothing deadly lives in them. Each pool is too small.
I lead Iric to one of the moderately deep pools. It’ll come up to about my chest. Deep enough to swim, but shallow enough to touch.
We shed our boots and armor and then lay our axes down to the side of the pool where they can’t get wet.
I enter the pool first, the cool water sending goose bumps prickling along my arms. Soren lowers himself to the ground and sits on crossed legs. He’s not at the edge of our pool. Rather, he’s distanced himself from us by a good forty feet, between us and the foliage of the wild. He pulls out a whetstone and takes it to his ax, his back to the thick expanse of trees.
I shout, “Won’t you be more effective keeping watch if you turn around?”
He ignores me, keeping himself pointed toward Iric and me, and I wonder what exactly it is that he came here to see.
“I was right,” Iric says as he steps into the pool with me. “I’m always right. Sometimes I hate being right.”