Chapter Thirty-seven

Enid's heart wouldn't stop racing as she watched the road. How long had it been now since Freya had vanished? How much longer would it be before Tyr would turn this cart around and leave Freya behind? Her hand clutched at her shirt, her jaw clenching together until she heard the rumble of hooves, and then Enid wanted to cry, then she wanted to scream and race for those trees she'd seen Freya disappear behind.

"Easy…" Tyr hummed, calming the horse and reaching for his axe, but soon he was flicking the reins, urging the horse forward to meet the other rider. "Aunt Hilda!"

"Tyr, are you alright?" Hilda asked.

"Yes, Ivar's hurt though and we can't go back to the farm."

"I know. Freya's with the boys. Let's hurry and get you warm," Hilda said, but she slowed her horse first, coming to look at Ivar in the back. "Deathless," she said, banging her axe against the side of the cart and startling him awake. "Stay awake until we reach the farm, I might need you."

Ivar grunted, laying his head back down on Enid's lap and it was only then that Enid realised that his hand was wrapped around a knife, so tightly his knuckles looked like they would burst through his skin.

Before long they were pulling up to a gate and she heard the sound of children calling out orders and dragging the gate out of the way. Enid watched them, some part of her in awe, some part of her in stunned silence. They were only children, some of them barely older than Freya, but they stood at the gate, their bows raised and their shields at the ready behind them.

"Keep up the patrols," Hilda said. "No one goes alone, you understand me, Thor?"

"Yes, Hilda."

"Good," she said, sliding down from her horse. "Can you walk, Deathless?" she asked, and Ivar grunted, nodding his head, but that grunt turned into a hiss as he tried to sit, the colour draining from his face as he clutched at his stomach. "Get him in the house, slave. Tyr, get your sister to look at you first and then join the others on patrol."

That was all Hilda said before she disappeared into the house, returning when Enid had only managed to get Ivar to the end of the cart, and then Hilda mounted her horse, kicking it in the sides and charging down the path with her shield tied to her back, and Ivar grunted again, nodding as he slid himself a little further along.

"Wait," Enid said, jumping down from the cart and wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

He was heavy, somehow heavier than when they'd heaved him onto the table and she felt her legs begin to tremble as she stared at the door in front of them, not knowing if she'd be able to make it, knowing that she had no other option, but then Ivar took a step forward, taking some of that weight from her and hissing with the effort. Hilda's farm was bigger than his and so was the house, but the main room was taken up mostly with a large table, littered with benches and stools almost like she expected to host a great many people every evening.

"Here," Freya said, as she rounded a corner, a mortar filled with a dark green paste in her hands.

Ivar sat on the edge of the table, wheezing as he gritted his teeth and laid down. Enid watched his eyes close and the colour drain from his face as Freya covered his burns with that sticky paste and a few moments later and she watched him go slack, his hands falling limply at his sides as he fell asleep. It was only after Freya had checked him from head to toe, had covered every scratch and cut with that paste that she sat down, her face buried in her palms and her shoulders shaking, and then Enid raced for her, holding her to her chest and feeling how she trembled.

"Why is his so stupid?" Freya asked between sobs, and Enid wanted to answer her, she wanted to say anything that would take that pain away, but the door burst open, Ivar started awake and Hilda stormed into the room, holding her hands out to the fire for a moment, staring into the flames before she rounded on Ivar.

"Looks like you got them all," she said. "The boys and I will keep watch tonight and then I'll take Tyr into town tomorrow to see the Jarl," she nodded, and Ivar went stiff, his jaw clenching as he made as though to sit up. "Don't fight me on this, Deathless," Hilda continued. "He saw more than the others and there's no point in me taking one of my own," she waited until Ivar nodded, until he laid his head back down and sighed, and then her shoulders dropped and she came to sit beside him. "They're safe, Ivar, and they'll be safe here. The children can sleep with the others up in the loft. You and the slave can take the barn and you stay as long as you need to."

Ivar nodded again, his chest heaving, his face tight and pale, and Hilda smiled, a smile that was small, a smile that could disappear all too quickly. She made to stand then, but Ivar gripped her arm, holding her there and for a long moment they only stared at each other, and then Enid watched Hilda's shoulders drop, she watched her lean forward and press her forehead to Ivar's as he closed his eyes, holding onto that hand that Hilda had pressed to his cheek.

Enid felt it then, a pain like a dull ache tear through her heart, one that twisted and twinged as it squirmed around inside her, and then Hilda pulled away, her lips lingering on Ivar's forehead before she stood straight.

"Freya, help with the food," she said. "Get him to the barn, slave."