Chapter Seventy-five

Tyr's face scrunched up in a wince, a wince that only grew tighter and tighter as Enid braided his hair.

"Hurry up, Enid," he sighed.

"It's not my fault," she laughed, tugging on one of them and pulling his head back. "Your hair's so long now."

Tyr grinned, his eyes shining bright as he yanked his hair free and stared back out to the village. "I want it to be longer than Ivar's," he said, and Enid laughed again, twisting and turning his hair with her fingers and tying it with thin leather straps, but then she heard a crunch of sand.

She saw a large man glaring down at her, spitting so close beside her, and then Tyr made to stand, his hand reaching for his axe, that wince now a fierce scowl, but Enid grabbed his shoulder, pressing on it until he was forced back down on the sand. That man tutted, heaving a bundle of sticks onto his shoulder and kicking up sand towards them as he made his way into the village.

"I'll kill him for that," Tyr said, his voice deep and low. "I swear on my armring."

"You don't have an armring," Enid said, and then she grabbed his chin, turning him to look at her. "I don't want you to fight for me, Tyr. Things will get better, we just have to be patient. We'll be back on the farm in a few months and then none of this will matter."

"I don't care about then," he said, jerking his chin free and glaring back to the village. "I don't like the way they look at you now."

Enid smiled then, a smile that was soft, a smile that was somewhat sad and heavy, and then she reached for his hair again, tying that last braid off and binding them all together. She wanted to see him with that hair down to his waist. She wanted to see him with wide shoulders and an axe as big as Ivar's and she wanted to see him look at someone the way Ivar looked at her.

Enid sighed, sitting back and brushing the sand from her dress. Maybe she should just listen to Gro and see if there was a way she could end all of these problems. She heard another crunch in the sand then, her eyes flicking up to see that sky-blue staring down at her and the corners of his lips twitching like he was fighting a smile.

"The others aren't here yet?" he asked.

"Not yet…" Tyr sighed.

"It looks good on you…" Ivar whispered. "The cloak," he added, and Enid looked down, smoothing that soft, white fur under her fingers and feeling her cheeks go pink.

"Freya chose it," she said, and Ivar grunted, a quick, curt grunt as he banged a knee into Tyr's shoulder.

"I'll have to go out raiding soon. The three of you are bleeding me dry."

Enid watched as Tyr turned, a big, fat grin on his face, the light in his eyes bright and light as he stared up at his father.

"Want to see?" he asked, and his hand darted, grabbing and throwing his axe in the air for Ivar to catch, and then Ivar rang his fingers over the blade, banging the head against the palm of his hand and testing the straps.

"It's good," he said. "Look after it."

"I will," Tyr nodded, kneeling and taking the axe from Ivar to give to Enid. "What do you think, Enid?" he asked as Enid held it, feeling the weight of it in her hands and tracing the straps with her fingers.

"I don't know much about axes," she smiled. "But I know a lot about you and I think you'll be a famous warrior soon enough."

Tyr grinned, grabbing that axe from her and hooking it on his belt. "Will you be coming with us?" he asked. "When we can go raiding again?"

Enid stared at him, her eyes going big and wide as she sat a little taller. "I don't know. I hadn't thought about it."

"I think you should," Tyr nodded. "You've been training so hard, Enid. I'm sure you'd fight well, but… you'd come back with us too, right?"

Enid watched his eyes fall, watched him fiddling with the corner of her cloak and suddenly he was so young, so small.

"I don't know if I could fight against my own people," Enid said. "But I would come back, Tyr, even if someone kidnapped me," she said, looking at Ivar. "I would find a way to get back here so wait for me, if that ever happens."

Tyr laughed, sitting and crossing his legs in the sand. "I won't wait," he said. "All of us will come and get you."

Enid was still smiling at him when she saw them over his shoulder, Freya talking, her hand resting on the head of her axe at her hip, Erik walking beside her with Frigga in his arms, and then Erik stopped, his forehead lining in a slight crease, his eyes unblinking as he stared at Freya. Freya walked a few steps ahead of him before she turned, her head tilting to the side as she said something else, and then Erik laughed, that crease growing deeper as he shook his head and followed her.

"Sometimes I hear an old woman in your voice, Freya," Enid heard him saying. "Are you sure there's only you in there?" he asked, poking a finger at Freya's forehead.

Enid expected Freya's cheeks to go pink, for the girl to turn and shy away from him, but Freya's eyes narrowed into thin slits, her arms folding across her chest as she glared at Erik.

"Are you trying to insult me, Erik?" she asked.

"Not at all," Erik laughed, nodding to the others and handing Frigga to Enid. "The old are wise, Freya, that's how they get to be old. So," he smiled. "Anyone find anything?"

"Gro wants me to visit The Seer. She said it could help you," Enid said, and she watched Erik's back as he turned to stare out into the village.

For a long time he said nothing, for a long time he didn't even move aside from the tapping of his finger against the hilt of his sword, but then he turned around, shaking his head and saying, "No."

"But what if it helps?" Enid asked.

"I won't help," Erik said. "He's not a Seer and you talking to him is only going to help whoever he's working with. You'll give up secrets and he'll give you an even worse prophecy to deal with."

"I wouldn't tell him anything!" Enid snapped.

"Of course, you would," Erik nodded. "You wouldn't have a choice. Just because he's not a Seer doesn't mean he's not something else."

Enid stared at him a moment, her face scrunching up in a wince, her heart suddenly hammering in her chest.

"Have you seen something?" Freya asked, and Erik turned to her, his face going slack and his eyes unblinking as he studied her.

"No," he said finally. "I haven't figured it out yet, but I know for certain that he's not a Seer."

"How?" Freya asked, and Erik sighed then, his finger tap, tap, tapping at the hilt of his sword.

"I've met many Seers," he said. "They don't just give out prophecies and… they're never happy to talk about them. Having the sight is not an easy thing, Freya. You see everything and nothing and only in the order the gods want you to see them. Every Seer I've met only has ever wanted to die and be at peace."

Enid couldn't say why, but her heart was breaking. She could feel large cracks snapping and tearing through her flesh, she could almost hear them as they spread inside of her and shattered like ice. Was that what it had been like for Helga? Had she only wanted to die so she would not have to carry that weight on her shoulders any longer? Did Erik carry it too?

"He's not a Seer," Erik said, turning back to stare at the village. "So there's no point in you going and talking to him."

Enid nodded then, something building in her chest, something that scared her, that filled her with certainty and that she knew she did not want to do.

"So I'll leave," she said, and they all turned to her, Tyr's face a tight wince, Ivar's going slack and pale.

"You can't," Freya said.

"It's the only thing that makes sense," Enid shook her head. "I can go back to the farm or to Hilda's and you'll all be safer. I'll be fine," she nodded. "I can do it, it won't be so bad and we can all be together again in the spring."

"Knut's not going to let you go in the spring," Erik said, and Enid stared at him, the earth shifting under her feet, a jolt shooting down her spine.

"It doesn't matter," she smiled. "It won't be forever. We'll all find a way back to each other, I know it."

"No," Ivar said.

Enid didn't want to look at him then. She didn't want to be reminded of what she was losing. She didn't want to see that pain on his face or that sadness in his eyes, but when she finally looked up, all she saw was anger.

"It's for the best, Ivar," she said.

"No," he glared at her, his face scrunching up in a fierce scowl. "You leave now and you're only saving yourself," he said. "You'll make the rest of us look guilty and make everyone think that what he said about you was right."

"I'm only hurting you," Enid shook her head. "You're all in danger right now because of me. What if something happens and the children get hurt?"

"He's right," Erik said. "But I have an idea. We could play along. We could pretend to distance ourselves from each other. They'll think their plan is working and then they'll be less suspicious of me. We have to get whoever it is to make a mistake or we're never going to catch them."

Ivar tutted, his thumbs hooking on his belt, the corners of his lips twitching. "What a good plan," he growled. "It's perfect for you. The only ones in danger will be my family and you still get to catch your spy," he spat on the sand. "We're leaving."

"You can't leave, Ivar," Erik said, his eyes narrowing into thin slits.

"We're done here," Ivar said. "I'm not listening to you or Knut anymore. Knut can take the farm or you take it, I don't care, but we're leaving."

"You're not going anywhere, Deathless. All of us are fated to be here and working together whether you like it or not."

"Oh, now you have the sight!" Ivar said, his lips curling into a cold smile. "Somehow it always shows up whenever you need it!"

Erik's lips twitched then, just like the corners of his nose, like he was fighting something inside him, something dark and twisted, something dangerous.

"I don't have the sight, Ivar." he said, his voice so soft and low, his eyes staring at Ivar without blinking. "But even you're not stupid enough not to realize that I'm the only one who can help Frigga."