“I will return with him . . . and with Gudrun. And when I do . . . you must be ready to flee, Ghisla. Gudrun plans to overthrow the king and take the hill. I will not stop him. In fact, I will help him. And when Banruud has fallen, I will kill Gudrun myself.”
“But Banruud will not be the only one to fall.”
“No. Men will die. Chieftains who have done nothing but suck the teat of Saylok will fight beside the king. Their warriors, the king’s guard, the clanless . . . some of them will die too.”
“What of the temple? What of the daughters? There are more women in the temple now than just my sisters. It is a sanctuary. What will the Northmen do to them, Hod?”
“You will go. All of you. Alba, Ghost, the women, and the keepers. You will go to Bayr in Dolphys. And when the battle is done . . . those who wish will return. And you and I will be free. Mayhaps Saylok will finally be free.”
“You think Banruud’s death will break the curse?”
“Arwin says the scourge began with Bayr, and it will end with him. He even believed . . . that I would be the one to take his life. Like Hod, the blind god.”
“Hod . . . no. Oh no.” It was what Master Ivo feared. What Dagmar feared. What she had come to fear as well.
“Shh, my love. Listen to me,” he urged, and she did her best to control her terrible dread.
“I have puzzled over Desdemona and her runes all these long years. I have thought of my own mother. Of her sacrifices for me. A mother does not curse her son. She seeks only to bless him.” He was quiet, pondering. “I do not think the scourge will end with Bayr’s death, Ghisla, but with his ascendance to the throne.”
Her breath caught, and her eyes clung to Hod’s face. He touched her cheek, ever so softly, as if needing to reassure himself she was there.
“It is the story of Baldr and Hod, two brothers, two gods. One who ushered in the end, and one who rose again. It is the tale that has followed me all my life. I cannot escape it.”
“And . . . which one . . . are you?” she asked.
“I am the one who ushers in the end,” he said gently.
“I am afraid,” she moaned.
“As am I. It is not my destiny to kill Bayr . . . but to help him rise again.”
“If we are going to be apart, you must make a new rune on my hand,” Ghisla pled with Hod the next time they met.
“I fear it will only bring you trouble, my love.” He’d thought about the matter a great deal.
No matter what happened—if Banruud fell or Banruud prevailed—it would not end well for Hod. His allegiance would be questioned, and rightfully so. His only loyalty was to Ghisla and to the brother that didn’t know he existed, and he would be hard pressed to defend himself among any of the opposing factions. The best outcome would be for Banruud and Gudrun to both fall in battle, but Hod would be branded a traitor on either side.
He did not want Ghisla branded with him. It was bad enough that she had the rune of the blind god, however faint, scarred into the lines of her left palm.
“You already wear the mark of Hod,” he whispered.
“I wear the king’s mark.” She traced the star of Saylok in her palm. “I wanted to wear yours.”
“It is a rune, that star. And it does not belong to Banruud. It belongs to Saylok,” he said, pulling her right hand into his lap.
“A rune?”
“Yes . . . A seeker rune.”
“A seeker rune?” she gasped. “I have had a seeker rune on my hand all this time?”
“Start at the tip of Adyar, North, the top of the star, and move around it, from east to west, tracing the lines, until you rejoin the tip of Adyar.” He traced the grooves as he spoke, showing her.
“And what of these lines?” she asked, using his finger to trace spokes that ran from the tip of each leg and met in the middle.
“Those connect the star to the center.”
“To the temple?”
“Yes.” The idea pained him. “After you have traced the star, start again at the tip of Adyar, where you began, and draw the line to the center.