Fire and Lies Read Free

her foot to the deck of the ship, stepping down into the first of enemy territory. Kallan raised her face to the sudden silence that blanketed the ship. The cold stares of the Ljosalfar war-men bore down with reminder that, at one point or another, she had attempted to kill each and every one of them. Her blood burned with hate as she slowly took in every face staring back with as much loathing as she harbored for each.
    From enemy to shipmate.
    Kallan steadied her breath and ached for a sword.
    Without a word, she released the gunwale as Rune came up behind her, stopping long enough to acknowledge his men and supply orders. Extending a hand, he directed Kallan to the ship’s stern. Her muffled footfalls sounded too clearly over the river’s gentle waves as she glanced from port to starboard, taking in each set of eyes that condemned her presence.
    With a jerk, Kallan stopped too suddenly as she approached the aft. There, Bergen’s bare back greeted her. From shoulders to waist, thin, pale scars, made visible by the sun’s light, marred the length of his back, and, for a moment, she wondered when and where he had received such a lashing. Unaware of her arrival, he bustled with a rope at the side oar next to a small cage where, inside, two ravens were perched. One slept while the other was busy picking the fleas from its feathers.
    Behind her, Rune closed in, preventing her from bounding back the way she came and running, full speed, to shore. She clenched her fist with the urge to fire.
    “Do I have to remind you who is king?” Rune said, jarring Kallan’s thoughts just as she finished plotting her escape.
    “By a random chance granted to you by a few seconds and Freyr’s sense of humor,” Bergen retorted.
    “I have to shove this damn arrow head through my shoulder and I’d prefer a heavy dose of mead to do it, now give me the booze!”
    Bergen flashed a grin as he moved the cage of ravens to the deck.
    “Father always did say mother was too soft on you,” Bergen said, tossing a flask to Rune and intentionally forcing him to catch it with his impaled shoulder.
    Rune groaned as he bit back the pain. He pulled the stopper out with his teeth and downed half the flask. Alert, Kallan studied Bergen, who returned her glower with one of his one as he wound a rope. Beside her, Rune busied himself with a swift kick to the collection of furs that had been dumped in a pile against the stern-side trestle where the men had stored the roller logs.
    “Kallan.” Rune spoke gently, pulling her attention from Bergen.
    “Don’t talk to me as if you know me,” Kallan said. “You are doing me no favors.”
    “A’right,” Rune said, half-smiling. “Sit down, princess. Help me with my shoulder, wench.”
    Rune dropped onto the pile of furs with a groan as Kallan kneeled behind him and quickly went to work, grateful to busy her hands.
    “The head didn’t go all the way through,” Rune said as Kallan rolled up her sleeves. “You’ll have to—”
    Kallan pulled her dagger from Rune’s belt and the crew jumped to arms.
    War-men drew their bows, raised axe and sword, while Bergen raised a black blade seeping Seidr, all before Kallan’s dagger moved to Rune’s wound.
    The Beast within Rune roared, drawing Kallan’s focus to the sudden battle between Bergen’s blade and Rune’s Shadow Beast.
    “Stand down!” Rune bellowed. “Bergen, sheathe that sword!” he ordered as if he too felt the fight of the Shadow Beast.
    No one moved as they exchanged nervous glances.
    The Shadow Beast stood down, but barely.
    Rune must be fighting it , Kallan concluded and silently considered how much strength it was taking Rune to hold back such a creature in his state.
    Gazing down the length of the Seidr-blade, Kallan met Bergen’s black eyes. In a fluid movement, she positioned the flat of the dagger over the arrow’s shaft, slammed her palm into the flat of the blade, and drove the arrow the rest of the way through Rune’s