“I know. Master Ivo asked my opinion on the matter,” Dagmar replied, his voice mild. Dred had the approval of the keepers.
“And what was it, Dagmar of Dolphys, son of Dred, Keeper of Saylok? Did you tell the Highest Keeper how you loathe me? Did you tell him I wanted you to fight beside me and you chose to pray with him instead?” The words were rueful but they had no bite, as though Dred had come to terms with his son’s choices long ago.
“The Highest Keeper knows how I feel,” Dagmar said, admitting nothing. In truth, he’d told Ivo there was no better choice. Dred loved Dolphys and would lay down his life for her. Dolphys was to Dred what the temple was to Dagmar.
“I am not a young man anymore,” Dred admitted.
“No. But it is a position you have long aspired to.” Dagmar heard the tinge of bitterness in his words and cursed himself for the lapse in control.
Again, his father took no offense, and Dagmar felt a flicker of hope.
“That’s true. But now that it is here . . . I find I do not wish it,” Dred confessed.
“You can’t refuse,” Dagmar retorted, adamant. “As chieftain you will be able to better protect Bayr.”
“How?” Dred huffed. “I will have no authority here.”
“I want you to take Bayr to Dolphys.”
Dred gaped, taken aback. “I thought you were the reason he refused my claim.”
“He is a guardian of the clan daughters, of the princess, of the whole temple mount. He feels a great responsibility. You’ve seen what he is capable of . . . but he is still a boy.”
“There is no such thing in Saylok. Daughters become mothers and sons become warriors as soon as they are able. Survival demands it and leaves no room for anything else.”
“You’ve not changed much, Father.” It was a lie. Dred had changed a great deal.
“Nor have you, Dagmar. We’re both still of the same opinions, and your every move is meant to spite me,” Dred shot back, his ire rising for the first time. He paced to the door of his tent and immediately returned, his hand on his blade and his eyes bright with an emotion Dagmar hadn’t ever seen on his father’s face.
“He is a fine boy,” Dred said, his voice almost reverent.
“The finest,” Dagmar whispered, and for a long moment he could not speak over the grief in his throat. “And he has been since the day he was born.”
Dred ran his palm across his mouth, adjusting his composure, and Dagmar noted the wear on his skin and the strength of his sinews. His father was aging, but he was still a man to contend with.
“The king has not claimed him,” Dred grunted. It was not a question.
“No. But he must know. Especially now that you have stated your claim. I think he suspected before, but he did not know for certain. He did not want to know, and he certainly did not . . . ask.”
“What kind of man does not claim such a son?” Dred hissed, shaking his head.
“A jealous man. A man obsessed with his own power. But Bayr has more strength . . . more power . . . than Banruud will ever have. He has the power of the gods, and Banruud . . . fears him. He always has.” Dagmar had never voiced the simple truth aloud, but it was the truth, and his trepidation grew.
“The clan of Dolphys is next in line for the throne. Now that Bayr has been claimed, he can become king,” Dred whispered, realization forming.
Dagmar nodded. “Banruud suspects treachery around every corner because he is treacherous. He assigns guilt and betrayal because he is guilty of betrayal. If Bayr was a threat before, he is an even bigger threat now.”
“Then Bayr is not safe here.”
“The temple might not be safe if he leaves,” Dagmar admitted. He regretted the words as soon as they were uttered.
“Would you sacrifice him for your precious temple?” Dred asked, bitterness dripping from every word.
Dagmar closed his eyes and pictured the day he’d climbed the temple mount, the newborn Bayr tucked in his robes, his sister lying dead in the forest, her rune carved into the earth.
“I would not,” Dagmar whispered. “I would not sacrifice him for all the runes in the world and all the gods of Saylok, may they strike me down.”
“Odin had many sons. He understands,” Dred said, all trace of condemnation gone.
“He understands. But he does not condone. You must take Bayr away so that I will never be tempted to make such a choice. I have been entrusted with these robes, and I don’t wish to defile them.”
“And if he refuses to go?” Dred pressed.
“I will give him no choice.”
“I gave you no choice . . . yet here we are.”
Dagmar grimaced but his father laughed. The laughter eased the ache in Dagmar’s heart, but the terror returned with his next words.
“Bayr has to go,” he insisted. “Or Banruud will kill him. Ivo has seen it.”
The laughter faded from Dred’s face and his eyes grew flat.
“Banruud destroyed my daughter. He will not destroy her son.”
“You will be Saylok’s salvation,” Dagmar said, almost pleading. He and Bayr were in the sanctum. Dred was somewhere waiting. Ivo too. The entire temple grieved, and Alba was inconsolable. Bayr was like a man condemned to the rack, and he could hardly meet Dagmar’s gaze, his shoulders bowed, his hands clasped, his agony slicking his brow with sweat.
“W-what does that m-mean?” Bayr roared, his eyes gleaming with frustrated emotion. “S-salvation how?”
“I don’t know, Bayr,” Dagmar sighed. “I only know that the things your mother said have come to pass. I have to believe that all her words will come to pass, eventually.”
“M-my mo-mother c-cursed this land.”
“Or simply prophesied of what would be.”
Bayr shot Dagmar a look so incredulous and scathing, his uncle flinched.
“She used r-runes,” Bayr reminded him.
Dagmar nodded, chagrined. He had never stopped making excuses for Desdemona.
“I a-am not a w-woman.” Bayr’s point was clear. He could not birth children. He didn’t have a womb. He couldn’t repopulate Saylok with infant girls. Bayr was a man with the innocence of a boy, and his interactions with women had been extremely limited. His best friend was a wispy, golden-haired child, and when the two were together, it was she who spoke, she who directed their play, and she who dominated the relationship, for all her size and silliness.
“You are a man now, Bayr. You are powerful. Perhaps as powerful as the gods. You can’t stay inside the temple walls forever, my son. You have to go to Dolphys. You have to find salvation. Whatever that may be.”
Bayr looked stricken. “I c-can’t l-lead.”
“You will.”
“I c-can’t sp-speak.”
“You can. When you must. But your strength, your example, that is what men will see. And they will believe in you as I do. As Alba does.”
“But the g-girls. W-who w-will k-keep th-them, k-keep A-A-Alba . . .” Bayr stopped, unable to finish. Words were hard enough for Bayr. Great emotion made speaking almost impossible. He wanted to know who would keep Alba safe. He had always viewed it as his responsibility.
“Alba is the king’s responsibility. She is safe here. They are all safe here. There is not a Keeper of Saylok who will not use all his power to protect them.”