Page 6 of Viking

CHAPTER FOUR

Arie

Icy water swirls aroundme, over my head. I gasp for breath but get a mouthful of seawater. I cough, the salt burning my throat like the smoke from the white powder that they forced us to breathe at the ceremonial rites. My arms flail and splash, my legs too weak and sore from the running, from the fall.

Our island is not so large, but the thorny briars in the dark forest have cut my body to shreds. I move toward the craggy cave created by the centuries of crashing waves, but I cannot rest here long. The guards, Brother Ishtar, and Brother Ulf, will already be on the way to search it. I haul my tired body onto the rocks and rise. They are sharp and covered in barnacles, and I cannot walk on them. I stumbled too many times to count.

I pause to catch my breath, but the second I decide to keep moving, a body drops from the cliff above. I shriek, and make my way over to the lifeless soul, already knowing who lies broken and twisted on the craggy rocks. Her dark hair spills around her like a curtain of seaweed.

I crouch beside her, no longer caring that the others might catch me here. I turn her body over and jump back from the shock. Her face is sunken, bashed from the fall, no longer recognizable. I sob and press my head to her chest.Poor Adella. This is my fault.

The broken seashells bit into my tender feet the longer I sit, but I relish the pain. I deserve this. I deserve whatever hell the Brothers have in store for me. Adella is dead, the serving girl is dead, and the rest of the Sisters will no doubt feel the wrath of the Brotherhood.

Voices carry through the night, down the rickety slope to the cave, and I sit with my sister. I link her lifeless fingers with mine and I wait.

My people had told us stories of the sea, how the Mother would dash us upon the rocks with a single angry wave, breaking our bodies if we ever thought to wade, but I had no choice. The sea was treacherous. They hadn’t lied about that. A great rumbling sounds in the distance, and when I open my eyes, darkness and sea foam engulf me.

I tumble over the rocks, fighting against the waves that push me toward the bottom of the ocean, only to lift me toward the surface again. Adella’s fingers are wrenched from mine, and I can’t see her. I turn in the water and look back at the cove. Several of the guards stand at the rocks, looking out to sea. I’m much farther out than I thought I was.

This is why the Prophet told us never to leave, that it would anger the Mother if we refused her bounty, her safe harbor, and the seclusion of Haven. We were special. The Mother had chosen us exclusively, but how could she want this for us? How could she want death, the ceremonial rites where girls as young as eight with the hollow-boned frame of a bird were held down as men tore at their bodies?

Another wave crashes overhead. This time it pulls me under, and I don’t fight. I hear my sister’s quiet whisper clamoring in my head, “Be free, Arie.”

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