Demon-Killing Sword

12.1 Tears

She hung back, watching as Victor hurried toward the shore, torch held high. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice deep again. Her arms were crossed. In the glimpses she caught, she recognized Kjell's bold outfit this time where she hadn't last.

I should have stopped him, the wind whispered.

"Absolutely. They're afraid of fire. I read it in an old encyclopedia somewhere," Victor said, brandishing the torch. The fire twisted around the branch, as if itself uncertain.

And suddenly she was one among a thousand soldiers, all of them racing along the shoreside, chasing after the blonde woman at their head—Brunhild. The torch warmed her hand and spewed thick smoke, one of a thousand torches. Beside her, the lake boiled, alive with something that wasn't quite willing to break the surface. She glimpsed hints of pale flesh and dark clumps of weed, but never got a clear look.

"If you say so," she said, soldiers gone, lake clear and still, no one around but for Victor and his single torch.

Victor grinned back at her. It reminded her of Kjell's smile, warm and honest. "I do say so." He approached the water slowly, torch held out before him.

"Victor, careful!" Vivi called.

"Be ready," Niina murmured, bow drawn, an arrow notched. Her horns were shorter and her eyes were brown, not yet gold.

Stopped him, echoed the wind.

Slowly, Victor crouched. He inched closer. The water's surface was silvery-smooth, a perfect reflection of the trees around it and the mountains far above. There wasn't even so much as a ripple. Victor lowered the torch until it was almost touching the water, then reached out with his free hand. "Look, it's perfectly safe," he said. His fingers dipped into the mirror surface. Ripples spread, the only motion amidst the placid liquid.

The lake exploded. The water before him was suddenly alive, livid with motion. Amidst the spray, something pale lunged to snatch Victor. He met her eyes, his wide with horror, face perfectly white. Then he was gone, drawn into the depths. She ran forward, sword in her hand, a scream on her lips.

The torch rolled across the bank, alone. Its flame flickered in the mud, then went out.

Muninn sat bolt upright, chest heaving, heart racing. Her eyes darted around impenetrable darkness, and she gripped her coat tight. Her fingers dug into the feathers, the safest thing she could find. She scooted back until her back hit the wall, so tense she couldn't help but shiver.

Aside from the gentle drum of rain on their roof and Huginn's quiet snoring from beside her, the room was silent. Water dripped from one of the makeshift stoppers in the ceiling and plopped into a hollow tree stump Gunnel had set near Kjell, steady as ever. Unbothered by her nightmare, Huginn's stomach rose and fell peacefully, deep asleep. Vivi slept on her other side, and Niina had retreated to sleep on the far side of Kjell.

She sighed out and relaxed. It was only a dream. She was still safe in the tower, nowhere near the lake. It was hard to tell if it was midnight or midday in the tower. During day, if the sun was out and it wasn't raining and the miasma wasn't too thick, then sometimes the cloth stoppers would glow. Though they were dark now, it was impossible to say if that was because it was night, or because the miasma had gripped the tower once more. The miasma was a monster worse than any demon, and they were helpless prey in its claws.

Kjell groaned and shifted in his sleep, interrupting her thoughts. She turned to him, the indistinct lump lying in the center of the tower. No one else was faring well from their prolonged stint in the tower, but he was healing up much more rapidly than he would have if they'd been forced to press on. Or so Vivi had claimed. She had kept a close watch on his wounds and nursed him through his fever.

"Any day now, it should break," she'd said at least a half dozen times. "And once it does, he'll be up and about in no time."

In turn, Niina would glare daggers at Muninn until she turned away. Eventually, Muninn had stopped even looking at her. There was no point. All Niina would do was blame her.

I didn't ask him to charge in. I didn't tell the grim to bite him. She wanted to shout it, but she knew it would do no good. Niina was convinced she was at fault, but it was ridiculous! They were in demon territory. Of course they'd get attacked. Even if Kjell had had the sword, would he have been able to use it? And what about her? Was she supposed to wander around defenseless because someone else wanted her sword?

Muninn slapped her cheeks. Don't think about it! There was no point to wandering that same circle over and over again. Niina would never understand.

No one else was awake yet. She laid back down and scooted around a bit to get comfy on the stone floor. Every way she slept left her sore, but at least she could lie on a side that hadn't gone sore yet. This time, she pressed her back against the wall. It felt more secure that way, even if the wall was the only barrier between them and the mad demons. At least Niina can't get me, she thought, and grinned.

"Victor, no!" Kjell screamed. He threw his arm out and knocked over the tree stump.

The full force of the splash hit Huginn square in the face. Spluttering, Huginn slammed his hand into an inch of water and pushed himself up, white hair plastered back on his head. Vivi, a little further from the blast but not by much, screeched and crawled away. Muninn danced away from the spill, high-stepping to keep her feet dry. The tree stump bounced away with a hollow thump.

A creak from across the room caught her attention. Muninn looked up and found herself staring down the shaft of an arrow.

"Stand down," Niina barked.