“I don’t think I’ve yet seen a single tree,” David said. Or any dogs today, either.
“There are some.” Annika steadily stomped and pulled. “We’ll see birch groves in the highlands—though not many.”
“The sagas speak of forests.”
“What sagas?”
“Older stories—from before the Horde. Some of the great families still have manuscripts in Norse.” And he’d read copies of them while searching for his mother’s people, hoping to find similarities. “Many of the stories are the same as those she told me, but there are differences.”
“How so?”
“Brunhild’s story, for one. How she took her revenge on Sigurd, though she died carrying it out.”
“Yes. That’s one of my favorites.”
He grinned. Her favorite was incredibly bloodthirsty. “But that’s not the end. There’s another story with Brunhild in the Underworld, where she and Sigurd are lovers—and Brunhild claims that all of the pain and betrayal no longer mattered, that it was what she’d had to bear before they could be together.”
“And Sigurd was some kind of
reward
? That’s horrible,” she said, and glanced back when he laughed. “Isn’t it?”
“I believe it’s supposed to be the happy ending she deserves.”
“But he deceived her—and doesn’t deserve her.”
“Is deceit so unforgiveable?”
“That sort of deceit is. It is one thing to lie and deceive for good reason, but it is quite another to hurt someone with those lies and to expect no consequences.” A frown had creased her brow when she looked back at him again. “He pretended to be someone else in bed. Imagine if Dooley came to my bed and said that he was you. Should I ever forgive him?”
David would kill him. “No.”
“I agree. So I will pretend that I never heard such nonsense. Hanna’s version is much better.”
Hanna…and Hannasvik. “Your village is named after her? Is she the same Hanna from my mother’s runes?”
“Yes. She was from a noble family in Norway, in fact.” She rolled her shoulders, as if to loosen them. “And she married a relation of your friend Goltzius. Hanna’s line is all blood, and you’re directly descended. So I suppose you might be a prince of some sort.”
David laughed, until he realized that she was serious. “Truly?”
“Oh, yes. Källa, too…Prince David.”
He laughed again at the absurdity of it. “The royal line doesn’t follow the women.”
“Why is that? It’s seems foolish. A baby could be any man’s. You can only know for certain who the mother is.”
“So they marry virgins—or hope that she is.”
She was quiet for a long moment. “I suspect that explains quite a lot about the New World. Why do the women allow it?”
Allow
it? David had never thought of it in such a way. Marriage had always been a matter of protecting a woman, loving her, carrying on the family name…because without that protection, without a man’s name behind hers, a woman had very little. Even many of the female scientists he knew had to secure the approval of their husbands or fathers before pursuing their chosen field, and were sometimes forced to abandon that pursuit when other demands were made of them. There were exceptions, of course—there were always exceptions—but it was a sobering realization.
“They don’t allow it,” he said quietly. “They don’t have the choice.”
“Oh.” Her chest rose on a soft, drooping sigh. “That’s terribly sad. In Hannasvik, we always have choice. To go or to stay. To return or to continue on outside the village. The choice is never easy, but at least we have one.”
“Is that why there are no men in Hannasvik? The women are afraid the choices will be taken away?”
“No. Men are thought well of, for the most part. That was just how it began—the will of the gods, or so Hanna said—and became set in stone.”
“And no one has broken that rule?”
“Not in my lifetime. And if others have broken it—bringing their sons back, perhaps—I have never heard of it. But I imagine it must have happened at least a few times over the past century.”
“What would they have done to her?”
“She would be exiled, most likely. But they would have helped her. There are always others who have left. They’d have made sure she found them, that she wouldn’t be alone. They’d have done the same for Källa, but she left before they could.”
Did Annika risk the same? “Yet you plan to take me there?”
“To Hannasvik? Oh, no. I know of a safe place a few hours away from the village. I’ll leave you there.” She paused, bit her lip. “I hope you know…it’s not a lack of trust. I just won’t break that rule when I have another choice. It wouldn’t be fair to them to bring you in, unless everyone in the village agrees on it first.”
“I know.”
In truth, he was relieved. David didn’t want to be the reason for her exile—not when it would hurt her. He was just afraid that if he let her out of his sight, he wouldn’t see her again.
The quiet between them extended—comfortable, until he became aware of her sudden tension. The troll slowed.
“David.” She opened the louvers wide. “Do you see that shadow?”
Slightly to the left—an oval with crisp edges. No cloud cast a shadow like that.
Dread weighed heavy in his chest. “An airship?”
And they hadn’t heard the engines over their own.
“Yes.” Her breath was coming fast. “Blast it all. There’s nowhere to hide here.”
“Stop, then, and let me out.” Throat aching, he pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. “Di Fiore only wants me.”
“I won’t leave you.”
“You have to—and bring back your army of trolls to rescue me.”
A geyser of snow exploded directly ahead. White powder blasted through the louvers. Annika cried out, stopping the troll. Heart pounding, David hauled her out of the seat and into the hearth chamber.
He brushed the snow from her hair, her face. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Her fingers gripped his shoulders tight. “That was his rail cannon.”
God. “Can a troll take a hit from one?”
Her eyes squeezed shut. She shook her head.
“All right.” Desperately, he kissed her forehead, her trembling lips. How could he protect her now? “Stay with me. He won’t get a damned minute of my help if you’re not safe. And we’ll play along until we can escape. All right?”
Her mouth firming, she nodded. He helped her into her coat, opened the hatch. Taking her hand, they walked out from beneath the troll.
The ferry cruiser hovered overhead, chains rattling as the cargo lift descended. Di Fiore stood on the platform, backed by three men armed with rifles.
Di Fiore’s mouth opened when he saw David. As if stunned and doubting his sight, he blinked quickly. An instant later, his lips pulled back into his fishhook grin.
“Mr. Kentewess!” Above his beard, his skin was red from the cold. “This is astonishing!
You
stole our walker? When my men found your pack in the lifeboat yesterday, we thought you’d been swept overboard. But you must have been on the airship when Jonah swallowed you?”
The
whale
was Jonah? Di Fiore must have heard a different version of that story than David had. “We were.”
“How fortunate for both of us, then, as this gives me an opportunity to return your journal. It was fascinating reading, I must say.”
David’s jaw clenched. “Return
Phatéon
’s cargo to her captain, too.”
“All right.” He laughed at David’s expression. “You thought I might object? I have no reason to. And you must be Annika Fridasdottor. I’ve read about you, too.”
Oh, God. David knew exactly what he’d read—and no, di Fiore didn’t need to hold the food hostage. The bastard had the means to make David do whatever he wanted right here.
Though her fingers tightened on his, Annika didn’t respond. Di Fiore’s gaze slid over her, assessing, lingering on their linked hands.
“And so which one of you drove the walker?” Though he asked, di Fiore must have already known. His focus remained on Annika, as if watching for her reaction. “Miss Fridasdottor, I think. That’s so very interesting—and useful to me.”
That was enough. “You’ll leave her alone. I’ll come with you.”
“Of course you will.” Di Fiore’s gaze met his again. “But you don’t have to worry that I’ll threaten her. Now, another man might do so—but there’s no surprise in that scenario. You will be heroic, make any sacrifice to save her. I know this. So threatening her is of no interest to me.”
“Then what is?” David preferred not to be surprised.
“You have friends in Vik. I’ve already promised to return the cargo—and I will. You will come with me for that. But what will make you stay?” His expression cooled. “I think that this will do it: If you or Miss Fridasdottor try to escape, then the town of Vik will have the same fate as Heimaey. I won’t hesitate, of course. The results of any test are never certain until they’ve been repeated.”
He’d created the disaster at Heimaey? David stared at the man, staggered. Good God. Perhaps di Fiore was lying…but they wouldn’t be able to take the risk of finding out.
“Come along. They’re expecting me at the glacier camp, and
following your tracks has already caused enough of a delay.” Di Fiore stepped aboard the lift platform. “Leave the walker. My men will gather your things from inside and drive it back to the rail camp—where it is sorely needed to clean up the destruction you wrought.”
David glanced down at Annika. Her gaze had narrowed on di Fiore’s back. David squeezed her hand, and she looked up.
“All right?” he asked softly.
She nodded—not trembling now, but her face set and a bloodthirsty glint in her eyes. David thought that his expression probably appeared the same.
“We’ll wait until the right time.”
Her fingers tightened on his in response. Together, they boarded the lift.
Di Fiore smiled. “I told you this was destiny, Mr. Kentewess. You can’t fight it.”
Not at this moment, perhaps. Di Fiore had landed a heavy blow—but David would be damned before he stayed down. He’d wait for his opportunity, the right moment to strike back.
And he wouldn’t hesitate to use a steel fist.
Annika stood silently with David, clinging to his hand and
looking over the side of the ferry cruiser to the glacier below. She could feel the anger boiling off him, but he didn’t express it, didn’t show it. Annika doubted that she was as successful hiding her feelings. She didn’t speak of them, though. She didn’t want to give di Fiore the satisfaction of knowing how angry she was…and how helpless she felt.
She glanced back at the quarterdeck, where di Fiore chatted with the pilot. He looked no different than any other man aboard. A dark beard covered pleasant features, his expression mild and open.
The face of a monster.
He’d been responsible for that cold, calculated death on Heimaey. She couldn’t imagine how it had been done—or why. Some experiment or project. Annika wasn’t certain that she wanted to understand. She only knew that they had to get away.
There was no place to hide on the glacier. Unlike the pass, it
wasn’t flat—the surface of the ice buckled, creating peaks and valleys; crevasses yawned open, a sheer drop into darkness. But all of it was barren, white. If they escaped from a camp, di Fiore would only have to look through a spyglass from the deck of the ferry cruiser to see them in the distance. The glacier wasn’t large, though. From the center, a half-day’s hike east or west would take them to the edge. So their best hope of escape would be to leave at night, to get off the glacier as quickly as possible, and return to Vik before di Fiore managed to find them. Once there, she and David could warn the town.
It would be dangerous, terribly dangerous, especially if they were hurrying. A tumble into a crevasse would be deadly, whether they were in a troll or not.
But they
had
to escape. They had to hide. Annika didn’t believe for one moment that di Fiore would let them go when David finished the project his father was working on.
She angled her head closer to David’s. “I thought he wanted you on the peninsula south of Smoke Cove.”
“That’s what he said. Perhaps that was the lure.”
“What could he want on a glacier?”
“A glacier with a volcano beneath.” His gaze narrowed—looking at something she couldn’t yet see. “I read about it during my preliminary research on the island. They called the volcano Katla, the witch.”
A witch? “That’s not one of our stories.”
“No. This was from before the fissure eruptions. Legend is that someone stole the trousers that let Katla run endlessly without tiring, and she killed the thief. But the thief’s ghost returned for her. So she ran from him and threw herself into the volcano. The eruption created a flood that destroyed the nearby villages.”
Annika frowned. “But the volcano is covered by ice. How could she throw herself in?”
He grinned, shook his head. “I don’t think you’re supposed to
interpret the story so literally. But looking at it now, I
do
think there’s some truth to it.” His humor faded. “Look at the surface, how often the ice has broken apart and shifted. Those depressions, as if the rocks beneath are sinking. There’s likely water trapped beneath, melted but unable to escape until the ice breaks and shifts again. And if there’s an eruption, the lava melts the ice from above or below and floods the surrounding land.”
“Oh.” She could have told him that. “Quite often, in fact. We rarely come this way, particularly across the plains to the south. The floods are unpredictable.”
“And we should have hired the women of Hannasvik as guides.”
She might have enjoyed that. “You meant to come up here for your survey.”
“Yes. And it would have been more difficult than we realized. The terrain is rougher. We would have had to hire a balloon or an airship.”
She couldn’t mistake the irony in his tone. Here they were, on an airship—and he had his journal again. Di Fiore had carried it up from his cabin shortly after they’d started out, and gave it over to David with a smile for him and a wink for her.
Though David hadn’t said a word, Annika had been surprised that he hadn’t strangled the man there and then.