Icefall by Matthew J. Kirby

ancient ice cow, and Alric spends some time making sure that I remember the details of the story.
     
    “Before the earth, there was only fire and ice,” Alric says. “And from the rime frost rose Audumbla, the cow. She licked the salt from the ice, and as the ice melted away, it revealed the first god and father of Odin.”
     
    “You choose this tale because of our cows,” I say.
     
    “Yes, as I did with your goat. And so the audience will see that life comes from ice, and though we are frozen into this fjord, we shall emerge when spring, like the tongue of Audumbla, brings the thaw.” He sits back, obviously pleased with himself.
     
    Perhaps he has forgotten about my dream, and what may come with the end of winter. But his thinking makes sense to me, and I trust him to know what the steading needs. Still, I am nervous when I imagine myself standing before the audience again.
     
    “You will do fine,” Alric says. “Try to relax, and accept that you will make mistakes. You are just beginning, and that is inevitable. Remember what I said about stories? They only exist in the moment of their telling. Let whatever story you are telling be what it is, mistakes and all, for its moment will soon be at an end.”
     
    This does not reassure me.
     
    “And keep your breathing deep and even,” Alric says.
     
    That night, Hake and Per stand before us. But while Per appears stern and calm, Hake appears furious. His beard twitches with the gritting of his jaw, and he glares at everyone, awl-eyed, as if trying to pierce their secrets by sight. I swallow and avoid his gaze. He makes me feel guilty for things I haven’t done.
     
    Per speaks in a voice that carries through the hall. “You all know of our circumstances by now. We have lost our two cows, and we were counting on them for milk and meat to last the winter. Rations will be cut back, and we expect all to sacrifice. We will be hungry. Bera assures me that we will not starve.”
     
    We do not need to starve to be weakened.
     
    “But that is not what concerns me most over the loss of the cattle.” Per stops and looks at Hake.
     
    The berserker captain nods. “Last night, while Alric and Solveig were telling their tale, the guards at the gate left their post to stand in the hall and hear the story.” He pauses. “Those warriors have been … appropriately punished for their negligence of duty.”
     
    The way he says it chills me.
     
    Hake raises his voice. “During the absence of the guards, someone led the two cows from their shed out into the woods. It may be that an enemy entered the unguarded gate and stole the cows away.” He pauses. “Or, it may be that an enemy within this steading put the cows out.”
     
    Murmurs and whispers begin to slip through the hall.
     
    “Know this!” Hake holds up one of his massive arms and everyone stills. “If there is a traitor within the sound of my voice, I will find you. I will execute you. There will be no hesitation. There will be no mercy unless you confess. If you come forward, you will be spared until we have returned home. Then, you will stand trial at the Thing, with judgment meted out by your people. Perhaps you will only be banished.” His voice descends into a growl. “But if you do not confess, I will kill you on the spot whenever and wherever I find you.”
     
    He lowers his arm, and I relax as though he had been holding me up, pulling me toward him by a cord around my neck.
     
    “You have until dawn to act,” Hake says.
     

 
    After Asa’s chiding, I did not feel like fighting any longer, and Raudi and I laid down our arms, ending the mud war. I trudged back to Father’s hall, encrusted, leaving a trail of dirt-crumbles behind me. When I entered the yard, I saw Father talking with you, Per. I did not want you to see me so filthy, so I tried to hurry past. But my father sees every thing. He called to me and I stopped, trying not to look at you. Father said nothing, at first. He simply