Free Iduna by Maya Michaels Page A

safe until they dominated the land and all the power that went with it. His brother’s death had been proof. There was only one way to get back home and live as the Ull should. It wouldn’t be easy. He needed Senbo’s knowledge of these lands, but he needed to slow down for the sake of his people. He could only delay so much.
    He could feel the darkness envelope the camp while his own ambition burned with an ever-growing flame. His palms were practically itching with their desire to grab more power. He needed to rid the world of weakness. He would let his power grow until he was the only power, the only strength. Strength was what was required to keep his people safe and prosperous.
    Vilir’s eyelids twitched as he slept. He dreamed of death and a fortress made of ice that kept melting.

Chapter 19        
     
    The next afternoon, Iduna was plucking feathers from a scrawny goose when Vilir made his way to a tree stump near the camp's fire. He climbed up and stood in silence. He was barefoot, shirtless, and wearing simple leggings. She had never seen a man with such muscles and was glad she hadn’t tried to take him on last night. Poison would be the way, she thought idly, while noting that people were gathering around the tall charismatic man — like moths to a flame, they kept coming.
    Vilir took three deep breaths, each inhalation drawing in massive amounts of air, filling his lungs. His ribs showed the pressure. Each exhalation shallow as he gathered air for whatever was to come. On his third exhale he made a loud vibrating hum, creating a long-drawn-out monotone baseline. Stopping when his long breath ended, he paused, surveying the ever-growing crowd.
    They looked up to him. Iduna could feel their curiosity about what they were doing in Gaelen, wondering how long they would stay, how much some of them missed home.
    He sang, weaving the notes and harmony that made Iduna feel a dark stirring of melancholy. Suddenly she felt her heart convulse, like she'd just lost someone she loved and would never see them again. She toppled into despair. Then a light seemed to appear, and it was fed by anger. The anger seeped into her, filling the emptiness. When his song ended, the feeling faded but left a shadow of memory, like the feelings had carved out a new spot in her soul.
    …
    Shaking her head, Iduna realized she was sitting cross-legged in the mud. She wouldn’t have chosen to sit here. People rose to their feet in their own time and went about what they had been doing without a word. The contemplative silence seemed to be a universal agreement.
    The day passed in a haze. She cooked, served, ate, and went to bed.
    When she woke the next morning, the sun seemed too bright, the light too harsh, the ground hard. She heard grumpy grunts and saw sleeping people with frowns. She must have slept on her neck wrong; she couldn’t turn her head without soreness. She gathered dishes from Vilir's tent, and he was snoring contentedly, snuggling a woman. His modest signs of happiness offended her. It seemed like no one should be happy.
    She stomped to the stream, loaded with dishes and grinding her teeth with vague annoyance. She dropped them in a pile with a clatter — one pot hit her foot, and she screamed with rage. She kicked the pot so zealously that she lost her balance and toppled into the deep part of the stream. The pain from her toes hit her brain right before she was submersed. Cold water seized her lungs and overwhelmed her senses.
    Blinding cold gripped her. Air left her frozen lungs in a bubbly whoosh. She hovered underwater while her nervous system shut down. Her thoughts stopped. Her legs and arms were still. She floated with eyes wide open, but unseeing.
    She hovered without thought or movement.
    Gradually she noticed the world around her: the swaying river-weed and a few fish darting. With a burst of movement, like her body had exited a stunned state, her arms and legs scissored her to the surface. She emerged