Tara Runeweaver's Arc

Chapter 14 of 19

The riders dismounted, but one did not come to the fire. He drove a tall shaft into the frozen ground at the gate. A wolf skull crowned it, jaw open, bone notches counting Erik's dead. A debt marker. The warband stiffened. Tara felt the old woman's eyes from the hall doorway, watching from behind the carved ice guardian that flanked the threshold. Tara set the hunting spear against the post. She did not need it now. She drew her hand across her palm and called the rune she had practiced in private. Cold light gathered. A spear of bone and pale ice formed in her grip, its edge humming. She walked to the debt marker alone. The lead rider's hand moved to his axe. She did not look at him. She lowered her glacial point to the skull's brow and spoke one word. The bone cracked clean down the center. The shaft stood. The skull fell in two halves at her feet. "Your debt is heard," she said. "It is not owed by this house. Sit at our fire, or ride. Choose now." The lead rider looked past her, at the hall door, where Bjorn's mother stepped one pace into the light. The old woman gave the smallest nod. He saw it. He knelt and laid his axe across the broken skull. His men followed. A pale shape moved at the edge of the firelight — her wolf, watching, then gone. Bjorn came to her side. He did not take the spear from her hand. He stood close enough that his shoulder pressed hers, and stayed there while his mother turned back into the hall to ready bowls for guests. The gate held. The bride had held it. Tara breathed out, and only then noticed her hand was shaking.