Read Forever Shores for Free Online

had never known any sort of normality. It was her fault Tor was dead, her fault William was a murderer.
    â€˜I have made you a murderer …’ she whispered, stricken.
    But William’s eyes met hers steadily. ‘Tor’s is not the first death at my hand in this dark world.’
    â€˜What?’ Ragnar whispered.
    â€˜I killed my father. He was trying to scalp my mother when I woke. So I took the gun he had thrown down and I killed him.’
    All the horror of the night coalesced around the bleak dreadful image of a small boy forced to shoot his father, and Ragnar’s heart swelled with pity.
    â€˜Ah, William …’ she whispered, blinded by tears. ‘What are we going to do?’
    He reached out and took her hand in a surprisingly strong grip. ‘I have never lied to you, Princess. We belong to a world where there is hope and this is a world where there is none. Only come now, and help me get Lord Torvald’s body into the longboat.’
    Ragnar stumbled to her feet and took Torvald’s feet as William instructed. She did not know or care what he wanted to do. She had brought him to murder. Now she supposed they would dispose of the body.
    The body. They half dragged Tor over to the side of the Longboat which was anchored close to the water and, straining and pushing, heaved him over the edge. Ragnar felt sick at the thumping sound his body made as it landed in the bottom of the boat. She climbed in beside him, gagging at a queer acrid smell as she lifted Torvald’s golden head onto her knees.
    â€˜Thorn!’ William called and Ragnar looked up in time to see the seagull stagger hippity-hop over the sand to his feet with a creaking caw of delight. He scooped the bird up and put it in the boat then pushed it off into the water and climbed in beside them. Ragnar stared up at him as he lifted a plastic bottle from the bottom of the boat and tipped what looked like water over Torvald’s unconscious form. Greedy squawked as he was drenched, and the smell was intensified as William sprinkled it over Ragnar’s legs and dress.
    â€˜What is it?’
    â€˜It is the test,’ William said, emptying the last of the liquid over himself and the boat.
    Ragnar watched him throw the bottle into the water and rummage in his pockets, before withdrawing something. ‘A test?’ she asked dully.
    William lit a match that flamed the colour of the clouds on the horizon all shot through with the bloody brightness of the sun’s death, and smiled at her.
    â€˜Do not be afraid, Princess. It is the last test of courage required by the gods—know that we are worthy to dwell in their realm.’
    â€˜William …’ The clouds in Ragnar’s brain dissolved as the match fell onto Torvald’s body. Flame made a feast of him, but he did not move because he was beyond pain.
    She watched the flames play over him and William came to sit beside her. He took her hand, sticky with tears and petrol, in his own thin strong fingers and kissed it reverently.
    â€˜What comes will be a moment of pain before the gods pluck us from the crucible.’ He looked down at Torvald. ‘Love was first born where we journey, Princess. Hold fast to that, for all love in this world is but the palest shadow of it. Where we go, love has magical properties and there may be a way to bring him back.’
    â€˜We will die …’
    â€˜No. It only seems so, else there would be no testing. But hold fast, Ragnar, for you are a princess and the gods are watching.’
    Ragnar wondered if she was mad but as the flames tasted the petrol on her dress and licked along the hem almost teasingly, she felt a surge of hope, for it seemed to her she could hear the brassy call of a horn, peeling out an eldritch welcome for a long-lost princess.
    She stroked Torvald’s face as flame licked flesh, and steeled herself not to scream, for she was a princess among the gods, and