Chapter 9
The memories of the dream vanished in a fraction of a second, but the idea still hovered bright and clear in her mind. It might just work.
Svanhild threw off the pile of blankets that tangled around her arms and legs, rising up in the water as the weight lifted. She flew out into the corridor, her feet trailing behind her as she banged on the other sleeping-room doors.
“Wake up!” she broadcast with all the power she could manage.
How could she have overlooked such a brilliant way to spread the truth? The time had come for everyone to understand Klaus’s crimes and lies.
“You're mad,” Gunnar said flatly, after she had outlined the plan to a confused, sleepy group of men around Per's council table. “That's the most ridiculous idea I've ever heard.”
“You don't have to like it,” Svanhild shot back. “Just provide me with the power I need.”
Gunnar shook his head. “Find someone else to help with your wild fantasies. I won't get involved in this sort of nonsense.”
Svanhild stared at him, feeling her own magic burn into his cold, light blue eyes.
“I don't know exactly what my father did for you,” she said slowly. “But I know that you owe him. It's time to repay that debt.”
Gunnar held her eyes for a moment, a flicker of anger flaring and then disappearing before he lowered his head.
“I will serve you as I would have served your father, my lady. My powers are at your command.”
Unfortunately, Gunnar told the truth. But aren't the most brilliant ideas often a little mad?
Selkies drew their power from the life of the ocean itself, from each rock, plant, animal, and spirit that lived beneath the waves. Every spark of life was connected, in a giant net that stretched from shore to shore and around the entire expanse of the world. So Svanhild's mother had taught her, as every selkie woman taught her child.
But Svanhild had hungered to learn more. From her father, she had learnt about the places of power, where many threads of the net gathered in one place and the magic was strongest. From Margit, she had learnt to use her own magic, her aunt's gentle hands teaching her to spin the net into magic just as she span thread into rope. And from the ancient songs of the bards and the whispers of half-drunk selkies, she had learnt about the crystals.
They set out almost immediately, pausing only to pack some basic supplies and gather a few more men. Dawn had not broken above the waves, it seemed, because no light yet filtered through the water to where their little group travelled along the ocean floor.
The site was one that everyone knew of, but only talked about in whispers. Svanhild had never been before, although every detail felt so familiar that she almost recognised it.
A cluster of sparkling purple crystals rose from the sandy ground, kept clean by the same strange currents that spun the sand into spirals all around them. At the edge of this clearing in the kelp forest, tiny offerings of jewelry and rope hung from the black seaweed. Svanhild gently lifted one golden chain with her fingertip, marvelling at how old it looked. No one ever stole from the crystals.
Gunnar carefully directed them all into place, frowning heavily.
“I've never done this before,” he told Svanhild. “For all I know, it's nothing but myths and stories. Don't expect too much.”
Svanhild just shook her head, unable to explain her faith. “It will work,” she said.
She laid her hands gently on the crystals, feeling the prickly warmth spread through her skin and sparkle along her veins. Closing her eyes, she waited patiently as Gunnar set his own hands on her shoulders and began to chant, his incredible power flowing through her and into the crystals.
The water started to swirl around them in ever-tightening circles, flowing in first one direction and then another. The heat reached vicious intensity, flowing through Svanhild with such force that she could hear herself screaming, her agony bubbling up through the water that sprayed past her face.
The network flew open, the mesh of magic and life that made up the ocean laying itself bare to her. Beside her, someone was crying, but she couldn't pay attention.
“Tell them,” Gunnar said, his voice painfully loud in her head, shouting through the chaos of the magic. “Open your heart and tell them the truth.”
So she did.
It all came out: Klaus's lies, her father's love, the fierce faces of the Wildlings. Her father's dreams of the future, the dirty splendour of the half-forgotten crown, Katrina's petty cruelty, Aleks's hopeful eyes. All of her most powerful memories and thoughts unfurled themselves into the web of magic, spreading across an entire world of ocean before Svanhild could focus a single thought.
Memories came in return. Other images of Wildlings, some from the present, and some coming to her from the ancient past when all selkies had lived in fear of the foreign raiders. She saw Klaus stab her father in the back, his hands covered in blood and his face grim. She saw her parents together, hands touching, and Klaus's anger as he watched them.
And then more images came, drifting to her from the network of many futures that crisscrossed the ocean. She watched the Wildlings rampage through selkie lands, leaving chaos and bloodshed as they swam on past. She saw herself, sat on a great stone throne, her face pale and serious. Aleks strapped on a silver sword, his face streaked with blood. A giant golden net closed around Klaus.
“Tell them,” Gunnar said again, his voice fainter now.
“I am Svanhild of the Icy Shores,” she said, feeling her words burst into the minds of every selkie alive. “I call for justice and I call for unity. Join me. United, we survive. Divided, we die. I will be your queen and leader, helping you to stand together, just as the old kings did. Let there be no more selkie bloodshed. We must be prepared to fight the Wildlings together.”
And then she collapsed, the magical connection ended abruptly as she fell to the ground, the purple lights of the crystals still glowing, just inches from her face.
“That was too much!” an angry voice said. “You've half-killed her!”
It was Aleks, grabbing at her shoulder to pull her towards him.
“Not yet,” Gunnar said sharply, lifting her hand and touching it to the crystal again.
“We stand with you,” she heard, echoing from every corner of the ocean. “We want no ruler, but we will stand behind you as leader.”
“We have Klaus, ready to be wrapped in the ropes he deserves,” one voice said, clearer and sharper than the rest. Svanhild could almost hear the chaos and fury erupting in the hall of the Icy Shores.
“He's gone!” the voice screamed in fury, and Svanhild abruptly shot back to reality again, scrambling to sit up on the sandy ground and staring at her men in horror.
“Klaus escaped,” she told them. “We have to go after him. Enough talking. Now is the time for action. This will be a new moon - a new dawn.”