And then Gabel had come along and ripped a violent gash in the stillness. She had never killed anyone and didn’t want to fight this man or spill blood on their island, but she would, to protect her mother and her home. That was why she had come to Ey Island, wasn’t it? Not just as company for her mother, but to do things that Darcey wouldn’t do. To protect her and care for her and do what had to be done. Her only hope would be to get far enough away from her pursuer to hide and wait, and then take him by surprise with an arrow or an ax in the back. To stop him before he could stop her.
She knew this forest, though, and here in the southern part of the island, the river birches were tall and gangly, the tree version of adolescent boys. Their flimsy branches wouldn't support her, and their skinny trunks wouldn't hide her. She cursed her Fielding size—her mother was petite and dainty, while Sibba was as imposing as her father, tall and long-limbed. Sturdy, her mother called her. She didn't feel sturdy now, pitting her mortality against the edge of Gabel's blade.
Bursting onto the beach, she whirled, out of options and out of cover. He was right behind her, crashing out of the trees. Sibba felt like she was facing down a bear after all; a cold sweat dripped down her forehead, stinging her eyes. Before, when she had thought him to be a wild animal, she hadn't been afraid. She tried to remember the confidence she had felt then, tried to push away the fear that threatened to consume her. But people were the scariest creatures of all, with their fake smiles and hidden motivations. At least with a bear or a field cat, she always knew what was coming next.
He swung the great sword and she caught it against the blade of her ax and shoved it aside. He hadn't been expecting resistance, and so when she flung his arm away, the sword sailed out of his grip, landing quietly in the sand.
“Malstrom bitch!” he roared. Sibba didn't have time to be confused at the strange word as he launched himself at her, shoving her backward. She stumbled, arms windmilling as she went down hard on her back, her ax tumbling from her hands and the wooden bow cracking beneath her weight. The cold tide rushed up to meet her, its white foam swirling around her fingers. Gabel landed on top of her, his knees on either side of her hips, his meaty hands around her throat.
“Stop!” she choked out. One hand clawed at his fingers while the other groped in the surf, searching for a weapon. “Stop,” she begged, hating herself for it. “What do you want?”
A wave washed over her face, and she inhaled a mouthful of saltwater. Gabel laughed as she retched, squeezing tighter. “I want your crown,” he said through gritted teeth, his face red with fury and force.
She wanted to tell him that she didn't know what he was talking about, but his hands had completely closed her airway so she only stared, her vision going blurry as another wave swept over her.
It was then, blinking through the saltwater, that Sibba saw the flash of golden-brown feathers behind Gabel's head. Aeris's talons dug into the man's shoulder, ripping both shirt and skin. He released Sibba, his hands going up to protect his face as the bird beat him with wings and claws. The angry sound of his curses was lost to the waves. Sibba scrambled away, deeper into the water, gasping for breath, struggling to understand. Only when Gabel got in a good blow, knocking Aeris back into the sand, did Sibba come around, struggling to her knees and snatching the ax back from the surf.
Aeris screamed, the sharp sound echoing in Sibba's ears as Gabel dove for her. Forcing herself to keep her eyes open and face his rage, Sibba brought the ax in an arc across her body, and the blade made a deep, clean cut across his throat, spraying her with blood. She jerked away from the warm droplets and Gabel's still-reaching hands. His lunge fell just short of her, and he dropped to his knees, blood seeping through his fingers that were wrapped now around his own neck instead of hers.
His eyes were wide, holding her in place just as much as he had when he had been on top of her. She couldn't move, her insides constricting, her breath coming in quick, painful gasps. This would be nothing for her father or for Jary—death was part of life for a Fielding warrior. With the decades-long war between the clans, how many men had Jary killed by now? Dozens? Hundreds? But her mother had removed her from that world when they left Ottar.
Blood stained the beach, and the water that rushed by her as the waves retreated was the color of rust on an old blade. Gabel's mouth gaped open and shut as he struggled to breathe. Sibba couldn't look away, couldn't make herself tear her eyes from his light brown irises. Finally, he toppled face first into the water and grew still.
Sibba pushed herself to her feet, panting. She didn't think she would ever forget how it felt not to be able to breathe. It could easily have been her lying lifeless in the surf. Water wrapped around the body and moved it a few inches toward her. She scrambled away on shaking legs, splashing onto the sand, escaping the reach of the taunting ocean. Aegis, the goddess of the sea, seemed eager to claim the corpse, frenzied by the sacrifice.
Back on the beach, the cold air hit her like a wall and she began to shiver, her teeth clattering together. The bottom of Sibba’s wolf-skin cloak was stained red with the dead man's blood. She shrugged the cloak off first, and then the bow. It was snapped in half, held together only by the string. That was bad. They would starve if she couldn’t hunt, but of all the things she had taught herself in the last five years, how to make a bow was not one of them. Their dried meat stores and pickled vegetables would have to get them through the snows, and then she would have to find a way to procure a new bow, perhaps from the weaver-women on the mainland.
Movement at the edge of Sibba's vision drew her attention away from the bow. Aeris had hopped to the edge of the beach and landed on something shining in the white sand—the discarded longsword.
Sibba dropped the broken bow and crossed the sand, stumbling on shaky legs. She picked up the sword and shoved it down into her belt so that the lethal tip poked out behind her. Aeris came to sit on her shoulder. The bird’s sharp talons and heavy weight had never bothered Sibba. She had saved the orphan hatchling and brought her up as some do dogs in Ottar. But Aeris was more than a pet; she was her constant companion, her only friend on this abandoned island.
Except for her mother.
You and your mother. The words rang in her head.
Darcey. How had the man known about Darcey?
For the second time that afternoon, Sibba broke into a run, the sun at her back, her dark shadow and the widening beach stretching for endless miles in front of her.
? ? ?
Sibba burst through the door to their small longhouse, the wooden planks slamming against the wall before bouncing back and closing behind her. She took the heavy sword from her belt and leaned it against the wall.