Page 62 of A Curse Carved in Bone
He lifted a hand to shadow his eyes. “He’s wearing a helm with a face piece.”
My eyes finally latched onto a bearded man, the top of his face obscured by a helm. He was shouting orders and pointing in our direction. Bjorn muttered Tyr’s name, and his axe burned to life.
“Steady.” I wasn’t certain whether I spoke to him or to myself. “We don’t want to raise alarm.”
“We’re surrounded, Born-in-Fire,” he replied. “No matter what happens here, we are in for a fight if you wish to get out of this alive.”
Snorri was waving his arms, motioning for the warriors in his drakkar to lower their weapons.
“What does he think is happening here?” Sudden anger filled me because Snorri was acting as though he was rescuing me. “Does he really think he’s going to take me alive? That I’ll be content to live under his control? That Harald is just…just handing me over?”
“That is exactly what he thinks, Freya,” Saga said, her tone frigid. “End this!”
“I curse you, Snorri!” I screamed, feeling Hel’s power fill my body as I pointed at him. “I curse your soul to Helheim!”
The sea quivered and shook, but no roots exploded from its depths. Nothing happened.
Why wasn’t it working?
“Get closer!” Saga shouted. “He needs to know it was you who sent him to Hel’s realm!”
Something felt wrong here. Fear pooled in my stomach because we were entirely surrounded. The Skalander vessels were close enough to see the grim determination on the warriors’ faces. Their weapons were in hand but none lifted their bows, all watching.
“Bjorn, if we get closer, I’ll be able to hear Snorri as well. He’ll beable to take control of me,” I said. “Something isn’t right. Why isn’t my curse working?”
“Maybe it’s the oath.” He gave a sharp shake of his head. “We need to retreat.”
My stomach plummeted. I’d failed, and now it would be a battle to the bitter end.
Bjorn lifted his voice to the Nameless. “Row back! Reverse course!”
But before Harald’s thralls could obey, a familiar voice shouted from one of the vessels approaching on our port side. “Freya, stand down! I am here!”
My heart lurched at Snorri’s familiar voice, and my head snapped sideways to the approaching drakkar that held no banner. One of the warriors pulled off his helm to reveal dark brown hair laced with gray and a familiar face. Sickness pooled in my stomach as my eyes locked with Snorri’s. The other vessel—and the warrior pretending to be him—had been a diversion to allow Snorri to get close.
“Stand down!” he repeated, the order reverberating through my body.
And in a heartbeat, my entire plan disintegrated.
My father’s voice filled my ears, and I whirled, ready to throw my axe.
But I was too late.
“Stand down!”
Freya doubled over as though she’d been punched, and then fell to her knees on the bottom of the ship.
“He’s got control over her,” I shouted. “Tora, sink them!”
Tora lifted her hands and lightning crackled between them, but before she could send a bolt into Snorri’s ship, Freya moved.
Quicker than I’d believed possible, she threw herself at Tora, a cry of pain tearing from her lips as she hit the charge of lightning.
“Freya!” I fell to my knees next to her. She was curled up in a pool of water, teeth clenched in pain but alive. Tora lay stunned next to her.
“Don’t hurt him,” she choked out. “Don’t hurt him!”
“Bjorn, they’re going to board us!” Guthrum shouted. “What do we do?”
