A further length I twisted secure around my hand. My mind and heart were set.
28
Had the incline been steeper I would never have succeeded, but the tunnel provided ledges upon which I took respite, bracing my feet on the opposing side, allowing me to rest my heated forehead against the cool rock. Several times, I hit my skull and lashed the air with curses but an inner determination pushed me on. I’d come so far and would not fail.
No matter what lay in store, I’d perform this last act. Ylva would be released from the sores that blighted her young beauty, and Torhilde, too.
The sun was well past its zenith when my face met its warmth, the landscape bathed in soft splendour. Pressing my cheek to the moist grass, my tears welled. I’d been lost to love, had been entombed, but I’d emerged into the light again.
After the quiet of the subterranean passage, I marvelled at how the world hummed: bees hovering and dipping, grasshoppers in the clover, and the chirrup of birds. The breeze carried the sound of every rustling leaf. The grass was as I’d never seen it, each blade defined. A buzzard circled, sailing wild above the cliffs, observing everything in sharp detail, as I now did. Defiantly, I watched it, feeling my vitality returning. It would have to search elsewhere for its meat.
I set my jaw and inhaled deeply. Tempting as it was to lay in the late afternoon sunshine, to let it dry my clothes and revive my aching body, I needed to hide. Only after dusk would I creep down the hill, skirting behind the huts, seeking refuge in Astrid’s home.
The last time I’d entered the shade of the trees, the wild strawberries had barely begun to flower; now, the fruits were ripe, staining my trembling fingers as I crammed their sweetness to my mouth. Beneath, the moss was soft—a bed waiting for my head. I found the oblivion of sleep, knowing that I’d soon be with those I cared for.
* * *
It was night when my eyes opened again. My body was stiff but my palm no longer felt tight and tender. My head felt clearer than it had in days, and the skin cool. Had eating the algae released the fever from my blood? I marvelled at its properties. Steeped in boiling water, it might make an effective brew.
A bird shifted in the bushes, disturbing a fluttering of moths, their flimsy wings flitting past my cheek. I thought I heard a sigh. I swallowed against the sour taste in my mouth, the pang in the back of my throat. Was someone here? My neck prickled at the thought.
There was no footstep through the undergrowth, no snapping of twigs. Peering deeper through the velvet dark, I saw nothing, but the conviction remained that someone breathed at my shoulder.
A rush of feeling overcame me. “Asta?” How thin my voice sounded—a quivering reed in this great forest. Huddling my arms close, I felt for the amulet at my neck. My hand brushed the brooch, still pinned high on my apron. Asta’s brooch—the one she’d given me.
I’d dreamt of her, in the cave—had felt her touch. I’d feared her spirit’s anger, but it had never been her way.
“Forgive me, Asta.” My voice still quaked.
In the distance, an owl hooted and took flight, its hunting sights set. It was time, too, for me to leave, to rejoin those who’d shown me friendship.
29
On my second knock, Ylva opened the door.
“Who is it?” Astrid’s voice carried from within.
Ylva gaped—at my wild appearance, I supposed, and at finding me still alive. I slipped inside, for it wouldn’t do to stand too long. I’d kept to the woods then crept through the long grass of the meadow, before approaching the house from behind.
Though dusk had fallen, there seemed to be a gathering near the longhouse and I’d no wish to be seen.
“In the name of Freya!” Astrid leapt from her stool. “Elswyth!” In two bounds, she’d embraced me, pulling me tight.
My tears sprung, for I’d been too much alone in the cold and dark. I’d near forgotten how it felt to be welcomed into a friend’s arms.
“Don’t speak,” she urged, looking me up and down. “Ylva, bring hot water and my green robe… and some broth and bread.”
“I’ve never seen such a sight!” she gave a half-smile. “Let’s get you out of these clothes, then clean and warm.”
I let her nimble fingers unfasten the straps of my apron, then stayed her hand.
“You’ve been collecting again—from the shore by the smell of it.” She poked at the long strands of seaweed wrapped in the tuck of my skirt.
I had to show her before she went any further, though I was loath to admit that I’d been unable to avoid the affliction. In that moment, I understood some fraction of the shame that Ylva had endured, and all the others who’d suffered with the blight.
Unfurling my palm, I picked off the strands of algae that clung, holding it out for Astrid to see. Even since that morning, it had improved, returning almost to its natural colour, the blister barely raised at all.
She nodded quietly. “It was a wonder that you went so long without succumbing to the illness. It’s just begun, has it?”
