Senua felt a chill run down her arms as her knees sank deeper into the rocky shore. Her head bowed in front of what used to be the skull of a giant. What once was a monster, what once was a man, now nothing but stone. He had paid for his betrayal with his blood, and the village folk had paid with theirs for casting him out. She hoped that he would rest easy now. That they would all rest easy.
She had dragged him from the darkness as she had done for herself.
The wind danced across her skin and she could feel herself slipping into the deep exhaustion that settled into her bones. She wasn’t sure if she had the strength to do this for another time, but she knew she had to find it anyways. She would defeat these giants, save these people. Stop the wicked roots that turned the Northmen into slavers.
She had to. Maybe then the ones she had lost would stop calling to her. She could atone her failure to them once and for all. Instead of death, she could bring peace.
She felt alone there amongst the jagged rocks. As alone as she had always been.
She knew she had to get up, the voices in her head were sure to tell her that soon. The stench of blood, ash, and the sea burned her nostrils.
You weren’t alone with Dillion.
Did he count for nothing?
Why didn’t you save him like you saved them?
If you saved him, you wouldn’t be alone.
Before The Furies could utter another word, Senua was shaken from her thoughts by the sound of someone fast approaching. A calloused hand rested gently upon her shoulder, and another one wrapped around her arm. She felt herself being drawn upwards. A touch with such tenderness. A kind she hadn’t felt in years.
She looked up to meet the eyes of a man she nearly killed a mere fortnight or two ago. A slave master. A man who ravaged her lands. A man afflicted by darkness, just as she had been.
Darkness
Look at his arms. Where is the darkness?
It’s there don’t you see it.
Do you see the darkness, Senua?
Where is it? It's vanished.
“It weakens you. Each death.” He spoke, his voice a deep rumble tinged with what sounded like concern. The observation, while obvious, caused a swell of doubt within her. She felt shame at her weakness. One so consuming she had to break away from his gaze.
Senua blinked slowly. The Furies were right. Where was the darkness? She noticed glimpses of it still, peaking just above the leather that adorned his forearms, but where had the rest of it gone?
It was his next words that caught her off guard. “Does it hurt you?” she glanced back to his face, searching his once icy eyes for any hint that the concern she thought she heard was misplaced. She did not find one, and simply shook her head no, despite The Furies in her head reminding her that she was, in fact, in agony.
The more he spoke, the more The Furies became active in her mind. They always seemed to, around him. She was becoming transfixed by him. The thin lines of ink that traced the features of his face. The strand of hair that had fallen out of place from the wind.
“Can you keep going ?” Her attempt at deception did not go unnoticed, though he didn’t fault her for her pride. “Yes.” She finally muttered. No more, no less. She was trying to convince herself more than him at this point.
A strand?
He was just in battle.
Only a strand?
Had he fixed it before finding her?
“I believe in you.” The words carried such weight that Senua nearly collapsed under them. He believed in her. Her initial reaction was to doubt, but here he was. All alone with her, standing at the grave site of the giant. He was the only one standing here with her. Fargrimr and Ástríor both nowhere to be seen, though she was sure they were alive.
This is..
Different.
This is different.
He is different.
Senua had felt it too, of course. Ever since he threw the spear that pierced Illtauga’s body and picked her up off the ground. He’d saved her then, even haphazardly standing in front of her, blocking Illtauga’s gaze, screaming for her to go. Why had he done that? She did not know. Days before he was calling her a mad woman for marching into a settlement decimated by draugrs. Had hurled blades at her. Yet there he was. Protecting her.
She was not used to being protected.
The emotion was still swirling within as they wandered off in search of the other members of their party. She felt sparks flying through her when his hand once again came down against her back. It could easily be passed off as a friendly gesture, but Senua wasn’t so certain that was the touch’s intention.
Neither was Thórgestr.
The air was thick between them, but not unpleasant. It took some time before the pair were reunited with the others. Fargrimr was found first. He was catching his breath, leaning against the cool walls of the cliff side. Ástríor was more elusive. She was found back within the confines of her newly safe village. She had helped those injured back to their homes. To their waiting wives and children. She then began a fire. Her village did not have much, but she felt a feast of what they did have was in order. For morale and to make sure the injured began to heal.
Senua observed her with a smile. Ástríor appeared so jovial, drinking and dancing with her people. When Senua first met Ástríor, she did not know if she’d be able to gain her spirits back. Senua had never been so happy to be wrong.
Ástríor approached the trio, inviting them to join festivities. Her eyes lingered hesitantly on Thórgestr. She did not trust him as far as a child could throw a spear. However, he had undoubtedly assisted her in slowing down the giant before Senua had done whatever it was she had done. So for tonight, he may feast. Though one wrong move would end with a dagger in his throat.
Thórgestr could sense the tension. These people had many reasons to distrust him. He understood that and did not push to be included. Instead, once he got his portion of food, he hobbled over to a fallen log at the edge of the gathering’s perimeter. He winced as he sat, the injury to his leg acting up once again.
There was so much warmth here by the fire, unlike where they were going. He wanted the bloodshed to stop. He wanted the tyrant to die; however, he did not want Senua to see the fate of all the slaves he had aboard the ship had it not crashed. What her fate would have been. To be tied to a post, wasting away from the harsh weather, damned to be ripped apart and consumed by a giant. He felt the shame clawing it’s way through his insides. He suddenly felt sick.
He did not want to think of the way she would look at him when she saw it. The mad woman. The one who marched without fear into battles against draugrs and giants. The one who by all reason and logic should not have let him live after his humiliating defeat and ships wreckage.
Why had she let him live?
He hadn’t the faintest idea beyond some mad plan she had briefly mentioned. If he had been the victor of the fight, none of them would be where they were today. He was happy he lost.
He had taken her from her home and brought her to this cursed land. Perhaps this was fate. Perhaps her coming across his path had been a divine intervention. A gift from the gods to guide him away the path paved with darkness that would surely lead him to the depths of hel.
He hadn’t wanted to be a monster, but he did not want to be eaten by one either. He had done what he had to do, or at least that is what he told himself at night as the screams of those tied to the posts kept him awake. They haunted him. Each and every night. It was his burden to carry alone. His father wouldn’t understand. His father would find it weak, and weak was not something his father allowed him to be. The björg were a strong people. Their strength below only the gods and the giants; and now, he pondered, below Senua as well.
His father had to see that, did he not? He was lost in thought for a great while until Fargrimr sat beside him. Fargrimr was growing on him, though if asked, that was something he would never admit. Though Thórgestr thought his counterpart initially to be weak and nothing but a pawn in his father’s empire, he had realized that he was wrong. He was wrong about many things as he had come to realize.
“We shall stay the night here. Health and weather permitting, we leave tomorrow. Ástríor has been invited to accompany us.” Thórgestr felt his eye twitch at that. While he did not blame her for her hatred, he did not wish to continue being subjected to it either. Despite finding the news unpleasant, he simply nodded, biting his tongue to prevent uttering any words that should remain unspoken. His eyes drifted toward Senua. A small, almost imperceptible smile graced his lips as he watched her.
Fargrimr noticed that had become an increasingly common habit of Thórgestr’s. He found it intriguing. A short time ago, if asked, he would have told anyone that Thórgestr was just as heartless and brutal as his father. Now, as he observed his unlikely brother in battle, he knew with conviction that was false. Whether the true Thórgestr had been capable of such tenderness all along, or if this transformation was yet another impact of Senua, he did not know. He knew from the moment his prayers were answered and she saved him from the draugr, that Senua would bring a great change to everyone she encountered.
Fargrimr stood after awhile, being beckoned by Ástríor. “Come. Our quarters for the night have been prepared. Ástríor has provided us with two huts. She does not yet trust you to sleep alone.” Fargrimr offered his hand to Thórgestr, having witnessed his limping earlier in the night. He could see the fire of defiance rising for just a moment in Thórgestr’s eyes. However, Thórgestr once again held his tongue and accepted the assistance up. It would be a long walk to where they needed to go.
They followed a few paces behind Senua and Ástríor up the winding hilltop. The huts were small, but they appeared adequate enough. When he was sure the women were out of earshot, Fargrimr once again broke the just barely comfortable silence between the two men.
“You have the most experience with our next foe,” Thórgestr was not sure if this foe being mentioned was his father or the tyrant. “so I believe you should share the hut with Senua. That way, you may more easily prepare her for what is about to come.”
Thórgestr stopped dead in his tracks. A panic he could not identify began to bubble in his chest. He felt his cheeks warm as a teasing glint made it’s way into Fargrimr’s eyes.
“What? Have you not shared a hut with a woman before?” The insinuation was impossible to miss.
“Of course I have.” Thórgestr sputtered incredulously, feeling anger and embarrassment take ahold of him. He was only met with a smug smile. Fargrimr continued walking.
Senua had already entered the hut before they caught back up to Ástríor. “These are the huts.” She gave one last hard look in Thórgestr’s direction before she turned on her heel and walked away.
Thórgestr realized he was suddenly standing alone outside his hut’s door when Fargrimr quickly wished him a restful sleep and entered into his own dwelling before he had a chance to argue about the sleeping arrangements.
He shook his head, not enjoying the path his thoughts were taking. He took one more breath and smoothed back his hair before he pushed open the door and stepped inside.
He told himself he was not nervous, though he knew that was not true. He had no reason to be nervous. He was not a child afraid to be alone with a girl. He was a man and Senua was a woman. One he was sure would not want him even if he wanted her.
Did he want her?