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“Is the beast tamed for now?” a smoke-ragged voice called from above.
The dialect was common language, words understood across all the lands. Often tide wanderers, the folk who believed the sea was more their home than any kingdom, would speak it at the docks in Skalfirth to better handle their trade.
Along the dark cliffs of the Night Ledges, shrouded heads peered over. Furs or cowls half covered every face that appeared along the jagged switchbacks of the upper pathways. Spears made of blue asp and onyx stones were in one hand, bronze blades in the other.
Footsteps scraped along the grit and soil of the pathway. Roark had one arm in front of me, his ax in the other hand. I raised an arrow. Thane backed away from Kael’s slumped body as four figures emerged among the fallen.
“Saw the beast attack.” The figure in the center gestured at Kael’s body. Tall, strong, with a slight limp in one leg. I assumed by the tone of voice that the person beneath the mask and hood was a woman. “Why let it live?”
“Don’t,” I shouted when another figure used the point of a short blade to nudge Kael’s hip. “He means a great deal to us.”
“He’s lost, little one,” said the woman. “You wish to risk your lives by bringing him?”
Bringing him? I did not have a chance to respond before Òlmr took a possessive stance in front of Kael, fangs bared. As though Brynn had silently commanded her fara to stand watch.
“I am not leaving him.” I lowered my bow, taking a risk. I let it drop to the ground. “Are you of the Unfettered lands? We…have need to go there.”
The woman chuckled. “Aye, little one. Saw you on your way, so we felt it might be prudent to meet you.”
“What in the two hells does she mean?” Gunter muttered at Auki.
The other man said nothing, but simply kept a tight grip on his blade.
I didn’t understand their arrival, as though we were expected, when the Unfettered had not raised a blade. They had not attacked.
“Will you take us over the ledges?” I asked.
The woman stepped forward and tugged down her half mask. Her skin was a light shade of brown, and short, dark hair curled over her brow. She looked to be near the age of Elisabet, but swirls of inked runes and patterns of serpents and vines coated her throat and under her jaw.
Tales of her life. Old Gammal told me that Unfettered Folk inked their flesh with their achievements. A grand tapestry of their journey.
“We were sent for you, so yes, we’ll take you. Best to see what sort of fate the cruel Norns have planned by entangling our paths.” The woman looked down at Kael. “If you insist on taking the creature, he must be bound the whole of the way. No exceptions, no matter what he says. How do you plan to heal him?”
I swallowed. “Remove the corrupted bones. Slowly.”
Memories of tearing a Berserkir to pieces thudded in the back of my mind. I would take care with Kael. Little by little instead of all at once. I would unstitch those bones until he was free.
No matter how long it took.
The woman studied Kael. “I suppose we’ll see. Come. If you wish to reach our lands before nightfall, you’ll want to keep up.”
39
Lyra
The Night Ledges are made of slate and granite stones. Ancient ash hardened into jagged layers peeks through lighter shards of rock, and over the seasons, folk had carved out switchback roads all along the cliffs. Paths took a sharp veer this way and that up the steep slope that burned the lungs and throbbed in the legs.
The journey was tiresome. Paths were littered with uneven rock and sharp stones, and with the horses, wolves, and us with more aches and bruises from the attack, we maintained a weary pace.
The Unfettered Folk took the head and rear, boxing in the rest of us, but halfway up the steep cliff, I was glad for it.
I studied their steps, mimicking how they avoided slipping and scraping their knees on stones. They moved like the wind across the sea, part of the climb but above it all at once. Lifetimes of traipsing to and from the upper ledges added strength to their bodies and a sure-footed gait I did not share.
Two of Thane’s Stav Guard still lived. The other two had fallen with Kael’s attack. The men slipped more than once, all the bulky armor over their shoulders adding an uneven weight.
Emi admitted that heights turned her stomach and spun her head. Once we were twenty paces above the canyon floor, she clung to the cliffside with one hand and barely managed to hold tightly to the reins of her horse with the other. Her fingernails dragged along the stone as though she would claw a tunnel straight through it.
Forty paces up, Yrsa let out a huff of irritation, took command of Emi’s mare, slipped her fingers through Emi’s, and had been whispering soft assurances since.
