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"What would you have me do, Lady?" Saga and Sihtric walked behind me as I rushed through the back exit of the hall, not wishing to see the new arrivals just yet.
"I need you to spy," I talked over my shoulder to Saga, taking a torch from the wall and using it to find my way down the stairs.
"On who, Lady?" Saga moved around me, opening the door before I could reach it.
"The Gods said there would be three men," I informed her, stepping out into the night. "Haestan and Bloodhair are two, I need to discover the third."
"Perhaps I can help, Lady," Sihtric called out to us, making me pause in my tracks and look at him. His heart raced as adrenaline coursed through him.
"How can you help?" Saga asked for me, her face suspicious.
"I have knowledge of these men, I have fought some of them, and I have known others for years." Sihtric offered, taking a few steps towards me so I could see his face in the light of the torch in my hand.
I studied him. His heart showed no lies, and the Gods did not warn me against him. "Saga, you will leave us. Make for the hall, learn all you can of Bloodhair and Haestan."
"Of course, Lady," Saga bowed, turning swiftly, her footsteps receding silently into the shadows, but her heart beats lingered for a few moments.
I held the torch out to Sihtric, using it as an excuse to get closer to him, "Saga is still close by. I do not want my father to learn that I left my body, so we must be quiet."
Sihtric nodded, taking the torch from me, his arm rings catching the light.
I stood at his side, walking slowly, "The Gods said that the third man will breathe poison and bring death. Is there anyone like that that you know?"
Sihtric frowned, bending his head slightly, "A lot of men kill, and a lot of men lie."
My lips twitched slightly, and I looked away from his face, down the road, "You are the first to tell me that the words of the Gods are not enough."
A flush formed on his cheeks, only just visible in the dark, and his heart stuttered. "I did not mean to offend, Lady—"
"Gyda," I cut him off, "you have earned the right to use my name. You have been good."
A touch of a smile graced his lips, "Gyda."
"And you did not offend," I rushed to move the subject along, growing a little nervous, "you are right. The Gods rarely give enough information; they only say what they want us to know, to keep themselves entertained as we scramble to understand our fates."
"I will still try and help," Sihtric mumbled as we turned the corner, "I will listen and learn."
My heart lurched, and my eyes were drawn to the balcony above the hall, where two figures stood talking. Ragnar and Uhtred.
I swallowed, smoothing out my dress. "The Gods wish me to speak with your Lord. I will go."
"How will I reach you if I learn of anything?" Sihtric asked, turning with me as I walked around him.
My ears buzzed with the sound of heartbeats, and I grimaced, "Find a raven, find Saga, there are ways, or you may enter my room,"
Sihtric bowed his head slightly.
"The third man," I shuddered as the Gods urged me to move, "his path is intertwined with your Lord. He will be someone he has known a while."
"I will find him," Sihtric promised, dropping the torch into a barrel of water as he walked backwards, "you can count on me, Lady."
I fought off a smile, giving into the will of the Gods and climbing the stairs at last, making towards Ragnar and Uhtred.
Ragnar was already gone when I arrived on the balcony, but along with Uhtred's heart, I could hear fragments of another.
"You would kill me, arseling?" A voice spoke, cold and angry, "And men like me?"
"Death..." A whisper sounded in my ear, "death..."
I pushed myself to move faster, reaching to grab salt from a pouch on the side of my armour, "Lord?"
Uhtred turned from his view of the yard, meeting my eyes curiously, "Yes?"
I studied the sights around him, the torches burning and the strength of his heart; he was not dying, but the Gods spoke of death. "Are you well?"
Uhtred frowned, "I am. Who are you?"
I swallowed, stepping closer, under the torch lights, "I am Jarl Brynjar's daughter, Gyda."
A knowing look crossed his face, and he straightened out, "You are the one who is blood tied to Freyja."
I did not deny it, nodding slightly, looking around him again, "How is your health, Lord Uhtred?"
Uhtred moved back, motioning for me to join him at the balcony. "Thanks to you, I have my strength again."
"It was the will of the Gods," I dismissed his praise, finally turning to look out at the yard instead of behind us.
"Then, I shall pray to them more often in thanks," Uhtred smiled, his face bright and warm.
"They will appreciate it," I leaned my arms on the bannister of the balcony, leaning forward. "I have a prophecy for you."
"Ragnar said as much," Uhtred leaned back against a pillar of wood, "Alfred will die?"
"Before the summer," I revealed, "his health will fail him."
Uhtred said nothing for a moment, looking up at the stars. Then, he dragged his hand over his face, lowering his voice. "Can you heal him?"
Brida's fears of Uhtred's betrayal echoed in my ears, and I felt myself tense. "You wish to save him?"
"No!" Uhtred said fiercely, and then, he paused, looking away from me. "Maybe. I do not know."
"You are bound to him," I mused lowly, "bound like muscle and bone."
Uhtred nodded curtly.
"But the muscle now rots," I sighed, straightening out, turning to stare at the side of his face, "you should cut it away before it kills the bone too."
"You are telling me to abandon Alfred and join the Danes?" Uhtred asked, glancing back into the shadows behind us.
"I am saying nothing, Lord," I tried to smile, "My words are just words. You can hear what you want from them."
"Do the Gods not advise you?" Uhtred tried to joke, but his smile failed him.
I offered him a sympathetic look, "The Gods are good, but we, still, are only their entertainment."
Uhtred lowered his head, "Do the Gods tell you of my curse?"
My heart lurched, and the wind around us picked up slightly, "They tell me it is a curse of paths."
"Can you break it?" Uhtred stood taller, pulling his blade from his sheath, "Can you break it, or do I have to kill the seer?"
My nervousness grew as I tried to decide how to shield Brida's wishes and how to keep Uhtred from making a grave mistake.
"I need some time," I told him, "a week."
"A week?" Uhtred confirmed, "What for?"
"To gather resources," I blurted out, my heart lurching; the Gods wanted entertainment, and I was not providing. I was not letting Uhtred and Brida fight.
Uhtred watched me carefully before he nodded, "I will wait for you then."
I smiled lightly, bowing my head a little, "Thank you, Lord. I promise, this is for the best."
Uhtred did not say anything, but he hummed in response. "I will go and join the men in the hall now, Lady, if you do not need me any longer."
"Enjoy your evening." I moved backwards, letting him pass me.
He stopped at the stairs, glancing back at me. "Will you tell Ragnar of what I asked you? About Alfred?"
I did not blame him for his concern; as far as he knew, I was loyal to Ragnar and to Brida. I was Dane and a witch, and most of all, I was a stranger to him.
But I only had loyalty to the Gods and the Gods alone. No man or woman was my leader, not even my father.
"I only speak what the Gods will me to," I met his eyes. "Your words will die with the night, Lord Uhtred. We can pretend I never heard them."
Uhtred stared at me for a long moment before he nodded and turned away, his heart beat receding.
He did not go into the hall, though, as he had said he would. Instead, he made for the seer's cage.
"He doubts you..." Freyja's words echoed around me, "he doubts your skill..."
"It is to be expected," I murmured, "he does not know me."
Soft hissing sounded in circles me, whispers blending. "He is tempted. The seer, Skade, tempts him."
"What does she offer to him?" I frowned, listening as another heartbeat left the hall and made towards Skade's cell.
"Glory," the Gods whispered, "power,"
"The Danes offer the same. Why does he not—"
"Revenge."
I cut myself off, my heart dropping; the Gods loved revenge. I would not be able to sway Uhtred away from it if they supported him. Though I was not sure if I was supposed to encourage him or deter him; the Gods were not clear.
"What will you have me do?" I asked softly, looking down into the yard as I heard sounds coming from Skade's cage.
"Follow him..."
I frowned, confusion blooming in my chest, "Freyja? Who do I follow? Ragnar or Uhtred? The men that came to the fort tonight?"
The Gods did not answer me, but the air around me grew colder, and I shivered, raising my hands to rub my arms.
"What are you trying to tell me?" I demanded, a prick of annoyance seeping into my voice, "I do not understand you."
The whispers returned, distracting and deafening, making my head spin and my heart lurch. "Death..."
"Death?" I repeated carefully, "Who will die?"
The night quietened for a moment, and I could hear something behind me, something fleeting and hard to catch; something breaking the wall between life and death.
"—arseling."
I whipped around, staring into the darkness, "Who is there?"
"Death..." Freyja told me, "death is here..."
I reached my hand into my pouch of salt again, pulling a handful of it out; it was blessed salt. It had been held in a barrel with runes for over a year. "Where is death?"
"Battlefield..." a man's voice sounded, broken and faint.
"You are here, spirit?" I asked, stepping further into the darkness. "You died on the battlefield?"
The flames of the torched flickered, and I took that as my answer.
"You should not loiter on the Earth," I spoke simply, eyeing every corner of the balcony. "The Gods call you."
The torched dimmed down as though the fire was appeased by what I said.
Uhtred must have brought a spirit with him; he was being haunted by his curse. It sought to taunt him from every angle.
"Come forward," I mumbled, holding out my empty hand, "I will soothe your heart."
I had learned, after years of speaking to spirits in unrest, that fear and anger did not work. The spirits already had fear and anger; they needed a kindness to replace them.
An ice like feeling covered my open palm, and I willed myself not to flinch as images of a man flooded my eyes; a warrior, a Saxon one, who fought beside Uhtred for Alfred.
"You are called Leofric, warrior?" I asked, staring at where I presumed his face would be.
The torch lights flickered.
"I am Gyda," I lowered my voice, "I am a friend." I took a step closer, raising my other hand over the cold patch in front of me. "I will help you."
The fire of the torches burst to life but I paid them no mind.
I let go of the blessed salt, and I watched as the specks showed me the face of a man, his eyes dark; he looked angry still.
"Your time on this soil is over," I whispered, "Go to your God."
The flames grew higher as his image faded.
"Be free."
The flames stopped and settled. The brightness faded back to darkness and stillness. The cold left the night.
I took a step away from the salt on the floor and turned on my heels stumbling forward towards the stairs, ignoring the pounding of my own heart.
A raven cawed nearby, and a breeze past me.
When I glanced back, the salt was gone.
"May you rest easy now, warrior Leofric."
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