Nena by Ann Boelter (red white royal blue txt) 📗

ever known, but she would not live to see the ship complete—would not take a short cruise around the fjord as he had envisioned. He knew that now. Thankfully, she would at least see the dragon finished.

“I’m very tired today,” she murmured after he woke her to tell her it was done.

“We’ll go home early,” he said as he wrapped her in her favorite fox fur blanket before picking her up. “For a while you were getting better. You seemed stronger. You will again. You just need to eat more,” he said as he carried her down the hill for her inspection.

“I felt it, too, but it was not to last. I think it was like the last glorious blaze the suns sends forth every evening before it gives in to the night.”

“Don’t say such things,” Sigurd admonished her.

Leila turned to look at the ship as they approached. “It is perfect.” She smiled wanly as her finger traced over the gilded carving of the couple. “Absolutely perfect, Sigurd. I’m so proud of you.”

Sigurd lifted her higher for her to view all the symbols, from the golden dragon’s head down to the last of the gold-dusted scales. It was not difficult. She weighed nothing anymore; her body had been ravaged from its long fight.

“I am so happy. I just want you to know, you have made me happy my entire life—and now with this.... It is perfect.” She wiped a tear from his cheek. “Please don’t cry. Do not be saddened when I go. It will be soon now.”

“Don’t say that.” Sigurd shook his head.

“Shush. I must and you know it. Promise me you will not be sad when I am gone—that you will think of our time together with happiness.”

“I cannot make that promise.”

She smiled again. “Then promise me you will try.”

He nodded, unable to speak.

She glanced back at the ship. “Finish her when I am gone. Finish her with all the care you have put into her so far. It will help you through the hardest times. And know that you will not be alone. I will still be here watching and helping you.”

“We should get back to the cabin. It’s already getting cold.” He changed the subject, heartsick at the path it had taken.

She nodded, and he began the trek home.

“Would you like some fish roe?” he asked after he’d gotten her settled into the bed. “I see Jarl caught a fat one in the fish trap today, and there is still some of the fresh butter he brought before.” It was one of her favorites—one of the few things she had eaten lately. “I could fry it for you.”

“Yes, that would be nice.”

He brought her the plate. “Here you go. This will make you feel better. You need to keep up your strength.”

“Gratitude, Sigurd. Just set it there. I’ll rest a bit and then I’ll eat it.” Her voice trailed away.

Something in her tone disturbed him—something more than her normal physical weariness. Sigurd pulled his chair closer to the bed and took her hand. She did not awaken. Tears flowed silently down his cheeks as he sat watching her breathe—slow peaceful breaths.

As she drew one longer staggered breath and exhaled, he knew it was her last. The skin and muscles of her face relaxed and her hand went limp in his grasp. Her body was finally free from the fight it had kept up for so long. Sigurd wiped the tears from his face as he stared at the form of the woman he had loved his entire life. He would do his best to honor her wishes. He owed her that and so much more. To fight through his grief to do so would be only a fraction of the fight she had put up to stay with him.

Jarl saw the huge cloud of dark smoke and started to run; that was no cooking fire. Gasping for air, he burst into the small clearing surrounding Sigurd and Leila’s cabin. Everything appeared normal. He glanced toward the work-site. No smoke was coming from that direction; the source was somewhere near the fjord. Relieved, he paused briefly to catch his breath, then walked to the cabin and knocked on the door—softly at first, then harder. When there was no response, he opened it and peered inside. The cabin was empty, and while that was not unusual during the day, something was off. Jarl scanned the small space again. The copper pot that always hung over the fire was missing, as was the honey crock he’d brought for Leila when he had discovered her sweet tooth.

Jarl stepped back outside and followed the now-diminished smoke spire to the fjord. There he found Sigurd sitting on a rock staring out over the calm open water. Traces of smoke lingered over its smooth-as-silk surface. Jarl knew only one thing burned on open water. A burial ship. He sat down next to Sigurd without speaking.

“She loved the water on days like this,” Sigurd said. “The gods honor her with it today. She had a special connection to the gods—always did. Whatever her desire—other than her health. She thought I hadn’t been building any ships since she took ill, but when I realized she would die, I built one for her. I never told her. I didn’t want her to think I was ready for her to leave me. I didn’t want her to give up.” He glanced at the rabbits Jarl had on a tether, then at the pouch that he knew would contain some type of fresh stew. “There will be no need for you to continue to bring food.”

“A deal is a deal,” Jarl disagreed.

“I will finish your ship, have no fear.”

“I do not fear that. I know Leila would haunt you if you did not.”

Sigurd looked at him at that and smiled a tired smile. “Aye, that she would.”

Jarl nodded. “As she would me if I left you to your own devices to feed yourself.”

Sigurd only nodded his