by A. E. Rayne
Mirella finally took a seat, sensing that Tarl was growing bored with listening to her. ‘You still have enemies in the North, and if you wish to rise above them all and claim the South, you will need to make alliances now.’
‘Or?’
‘Or your enemies will move ahead without you and defeat Ake themselves. They are motivated, believe me. Perhaps more than you? The North isn’t yours, and don’t think for a moment that it is. The Lord of The Murk must have a thousand men with him. Allies in Ennor too. If you don’t negotiate with him, he will use winter to start capturing more settlements around us. That will provide him with a real footing, and then he won’t need you and your men to fulfill his ambitions.’
Tarl leaned around her, grabbing the ale jug from the table behind them, refilling his goblet. He saw his men laughing and joking and drinking, and he felt the pull to return to them. And yet, Mirella was right. They were only halfway up the mountain, as much as, sometimes, he felt ready to stop and enjoy the view. ‘Always so impatient, aren’t you, Mirella? Always so hungry?’
‘I’m a dreamer, Tarl. I came to help you, for I saw that you were destined to become the rightful ruler of a united Alekka. I saw you with the Sun Torc, sitting on the throne. I came to help you fulfill your destiny, but if you no longer wish for my advice, if you want to forge your own path, then I can go. I will.’ And standing, Mirella turned away. ‘I will go!’
Tarl grabbed her arm, rising to meet her. And looking down at her, jaw pulsing, all amusement gone from his dark eyes, he nodded. ‘I want you... your help. I want to rule, to rise, to take the North and conquer the South.’
‘Then listen to me, please. You must leave Orvala and head to The Murk. Meet the lord. I have seen him in my dreams, and he is open to it. You need his men, for without them, you will not be strong enough to repel Ake Bluefinn. He has more allies than you can imagine, so now is the time to act, for if you make an alliance with the Lord of The Murk, I have seen Ake’s end.’
Tarl wanted to kiss her. He always wanted to kiss her.
And yet, he felt the wall around her pushing him back. ‘And you? Will you come with me? Into the wild? Into the depths of that dark land?’
Mirella shook her head, stepping back. ‘No.’ Her eyes shifted to the flames, and she saw glimpses of ships, wild storms, and panic. ‘No, I must remain behind. I must keep an eye on your wife.’
Tarl looked troubled. He’d wanted Solveigh, never having laid his eyes on a more beautiful creature in his life, but her beauty was now tainted by her endlessly morose mood. And when she wasn’t morose, she was seething mad or suicidal. He had guards watching her every moment of the day.
It wasn’t how he’d imagined things going.
‘Perhaps my absence will give her time to think?’
Mirella doubted it, struggling to find a way through to Solveigh herself.
‘There must be something you can do about her? Some tonic to lift her spirits? Some spell to make her love me?’ Tarl said it in jest, but he saw Mirella’s eyes narrow, and he leaned in close, once again feeling thwarted in his need to kiss her.
It was odd, he realised, how he always stopped himself around her.
It wasn’t out of respect. It wasn’t what he wanted at all.
He couldn’t control himself. Thoughts and actions came unbidden, leaving him with the worry that Mirella had bewitched him or protected herself from his charms.
He eyed her closely. ‘Do what you can to show Solveigh how happy she could be if she submits to me. I don’t wish to beat her. I want her to worship me as though I was a god. Not cower from me, or spit in my face. Do what you can, Mirella, while I’m away.’
Mirella nodded, though dealing with Solveigh was becoming a greater irritation than she’d ever imagined. ‘I will. Now go, be with your men, for a storm is coming, and once it passes, the weather will clear a window for you to reach The Murk. I have seen it, so you must send a note, arranging a meeting place.’
Tarl nodded, already turning away from her. ‘Then yes, I will go,’ he sighed. ‘I will do as you say, though I doubt you are right, Mirella. Few men want to make peace. Not willingly. And if that’s the case, I may return with a few new heads. Company for my friends!’
Mirella heard him grumbling as he walked away, and she smiled, sensing how eager he was to please her. Hoping that desire would overcome his instinct to murder every enemy who stood in his path.
Alys wouldn’t cry, though she felt lost as she stumbled down the slippery pier beside Arnon. The snow was blustering around them, and she blinked through it, trying to see Magnus on the ship.
The children were all that mattered now.
Finding Lotta. Keeping Magnus safe.
It was all that mattered.
Arnon wrapped an arm around her back, hurrying her along. ‘We’ve got to leave. Come on!’
Alys shivered, snow wet on her face, Arnon’s touch like a blade in her heart. She felt sick, light-headed, wondering when she’d last eaten.
And then they were at the ship, and Arnon’s hands were digging into her waist, lifting her over the gunwale like a sack of grain. She almost stumbled, skidding on the deck, eyes on Magnus, who rushed towards her.
‘Get away from her!’ Arnon bellowed, jumping down after his wife. And lashing out with a hand, he sent Magnus flying.
‘No!’ Alys tried to run to her son, but Arnon held out his other hand, keeping her back.
‘The boy needs to learn some respect. You won’t help him by being soft. You think a boy should care that much for his mother?’ he snarled. ‘At his age?’ And dragging Alys away to the stern, he eyed Ebben, who was looking at Magnus with some concern. ‘Take the boy to the bow. Keep him there, far away from his mother.’
Ebben nodded, happy to oblige. Arnon de Sant terrified him as much as he terrified Magnus. His own father could be violent, beating him when he did something wrong, though he’d never feared that he’d try and kill him. But when Ebben looked into Arnon de Sant’s cruel eyes, he worried that Magnus was in danger.
So did Alys.
Arnon had been jealous of Magnus from the day he was born, hating that she gave her love and attention to anyone but him. With Lotta, for some reason, it had never been the same. Arnon had almost doted on the little girl, finding her amusing and precious. Magnus was an annoyance he tolerated, and Alys was growing concerned that, soon, he would stop tolerating him altogether.
She turned away from her son, closing her eyes, knowing that by giving Magnus her attention, it would only turn Arnon against him more.
In the darkness, she saw a glimpse of intense blue eyes staring back at her.
And Sigurd’s voice, calling her name.
Mirella had returned to her chamber for her hat and gloves. Her fur neck wrap too.
Orvala was a wild, windswept place, terrorised by weather so bleak and relentless that it drove many to kill themselves, unable to see a way out of the darkness. Once, it had been a land of warmth and light, of sun-dappled forests and wildflower-bright meadows. But since Eutresia’s death, when the North had been severed from the South, it had become increasingly barren and frozen. Those who remained had little choice but to carry on in the hope that their new lord would lift them out of their despair.
Mirella saw a vision of a little girl standing on the sand, staring at the crashing waves, and she felt odd.
It was everything she had spent a lifetime running away from.
And now?
Slipping her hat on her head, Mirella reached for her gloves, staring through the window, wondering if she could see the girl herself, but her view of the beach was blocked by a long row of sheds.
It would do no good to dwell on the past, wishing for a time that was never hers to own. She had made her decision, the only decision there was to make.
And now it was time to face the consequences.
12
Bergit lost her balance, falling down to the sand with a grunt.
Ulrick didn’t
notice. He was still on the pier, talking to Asger and his crew about their plans. Lotta saw her, though, and she turned back, hurrying through the sand to help her up.
Bergit wanted to push her little hand away, but she remembered her dream, and she smiled sweetly at Lotta. ‘Don’t you have good manners? Rare to find in a child, I tell you.’ And back on her feet quickly, she glanced up at the piers, seeing Ulrick jumping down onto the sand, heading towards them. ‘Your mother taught you, did she? Taught you such good manners?’
Lotta stepped away from Bergit, her own eyes on the piers. ‘I... I suppose she did.’
Bergit clasped the girl’s hand, still smiling. ‘But now she’s gone, isn’t she? So I will have to take care of you. Teach you how to be a real lady. And we’ll have to start with that hair. In this wind?’ Lotta had both hands on her hat now, trying to hold it down. ‘I think braids is the answer, don’t you?’
The wind was trying to tear Lotta’s cloak off, too, numbing her face, and she felt herself slip away, Bergit’s sharp voice merging into the wind, until everything was one loud howl around her.
She saw her mother in the snow, her father beside her, and she shivered, seeing the fear in her mother’s eyes. She saw Magnus cowering in the corner of a ship, crying, a strange boy offering him something to drink. And then she felt a sudden tug on her hand as Bergit led her towards Ulrick, whose beard was white with ice and snow, his nose bright red.
‘Orvala!’ he declared enthusiastically, teeth chattering. ‘We made it to Orvala. And now our adventure truly begins!’
They were holding their breaths.
Eddeth leaned over beside Stina, who gripped the stern, staring into the rapidly darkening sky. They could make out a blurry shape of land in the distance, though no one knew if they would make it in time.
‘What can you see?’ Stina wondered breathlessly.
Eddeth tried to see something that wasn’t what everyone else was staring at, but she couldn’t. She felt Ollo come up beside her, and she frowned at him. ‘Same as you! Just the same as you!’
‘Thought dreamers were supposed to see what we can’t, otherwise what’s the point of them?’ Ollo groused.
Eddeth ignored him, picking her wart. ‘I see what you see, but I feel things you can’t. And what I feel is that...’ She sneezed, thinking. ‘We’re going in the wrong direction.’ Blinking rapidly, Eddeth grabbed Stina’s arm. ‘We’re going in the wrong direction!’
Ollo rolled his eyes, convinced that the woman was mad, striding away towards Vik. Eddeth bustled past him, elbowing him out of the way, Stina on her other side, trying to keep them both balanced.
Sigurd stood behind Vik, talking to Jonas, but seeing Eddeth flapping towards them with such urgency, he hurried forward. ‘What?’
‘We need to turn!’ Eddeth cried.
Vik look puzzled. ‘Why?’
‘They’ve left. They’re at sea. We have to turn!’
Vik peered through the sinking granite-coloured clouds, the sky almost black before them now. ‘You’ve seen them? In that?’
‘No, not really, but I can feel it. They’re at sea. They’re at sea!’ Eddeth was bellowing so loudly that Aldo came stumbling towards her.
‘Eddeth?’
She grabbed his arm to steady herself, struggling to breathe. ‘You must believe me. Please!’
And nodding, Sigurd leaned towards Vik. ‘We’ve come this far on Eddeth’s say-so. We can’t stop believing her now.’
Vik agreed. ‘So are they still heading for Orvala, Eddeth?’
She didn’t know. ‘North.’ It was all that came to mind. ‘We must keep going north!’
Alys had tried to slow them down, insisting that they should wait till morning, but the weather gods were conspiring against her, and the deteriorating weather had convinced Arnon and the helmsman to put to sea quickly. Now they were sailing in the darkness, through snow and sleet, and she couldn’t stop shaking.
Memories of what Arnon had done to her lingered like an aching bruise, but her immediate thoughts were with Sigurd. She saw his eyes so intensely, bright against the dark clouds. He was following her. He clung to one of Dagger’s ropes, eyes on the waves. She saw Vik at the tiller, surprised by that. Jonas was there, leaning in to talk to him often, his body tense. Stina sat with Ludo and Eddeth and the boy, Aldo.
They were all coming; enough men to overwhelm Arnon and his crew.
Alys felt a lift, a sense of hope buoying her spirits, and she let out a long breath, laying her head back against the stern, squeezing her hands together, wanting to see more.
She heard Arnon laughing, already well on his way to being drunk, despite the perilous conditions and the violent waves knocking the tiny ship around. And trying to shut him out, Alys forced herself back to Dagger, wanting to see where they were.
Eyes bursting open, she almost cried out, and holding her breath, she rushed a hand under her cloak, into her purse, pulling out her grandfather’s arm ring.
‘We need a moon!’ Vik grumbled. ‘Why is there never a moon!’
‘Perhaps Omani isn’t on our side?’ Jonas grinned beside him, wishing the same. They couldn’t see, but they could feel that the ship was starting to rise higher and fall steeply, sickening a few, worrying most.
Waves splashed icy water over them, and Vik shook his head often, trying to keep his hair out of his eyes, hands wrapped around the tiller, desperate to stay on course. Though what that course was now, no one knew.
‘Let’s head for the coast!’ Sigurd called, stumbling towards him. ‘Storm’s coming.’ He could taste it in the air, hearing the odd rumble in the distance now. ‘Better we edge along the coast.’
Vik agreed.
Jonas turned away, certain that someone was calling out. He saw Ludo looking his way, but his mouth was closed, Stina and Eddeth clinging to each other on their chest beside him. And confused, Jonas turned back around as Ollo staggered up the deck, one hand out to steady himself.
His mouth was closed too.
The sensation didn’t leave, but the wind was wailing ferociously now, and Jonas put his hands over his ears, wanting to shut out the noise, needing to think.
And then he heard the voice again, clearly now.
‘Grandfather!’
Alys stood up, stuffing Jonas’ arm ring back into her pouch, unable to think of anything to do. They were in danger, and she was so far away.
At sea.
What could they possibly do to save themselves now?
Eddeth cocked her head to one side, watching Jonas, who pulled his hands off his ears, looking her way – flashes of lightning showed her that. The storm was descending on them with true intent now, and she felt Aldo trembling anxiously beside her, a hand on her shoulder. And shaking him off, she stood, trying to make her way to Jonas, who grabbed hold of her arm.
‘Something’s wrong!’ they said at the same time, cloaks flapping violently.
‘It’s Alys!’ Jonas cried. ‘Alys can see something!’
Eddeth couldn’t.
Maybe it was just the storm?
‘What’s going on?’ Sigurd almost fell onto Jonas, who took one hand off Eddeth to snatch his arm.
Neither knew what to say.
Eddeth shivered. ‘We’re trapped!’ she shouted into Sigurd’s ear. ‘There’s nowhere to go! Whatever’s coming now, there’s nothing we can do!’
‘Coming? What’s coming?’ Sigurd looked horrified. ‘But your symbol? Your symbol!’
‘That’s to protect us from Hartu’s serpent!’ Eddeth cried. ‘We’re safe from that beast, but I don’t know what’s out there now!’
‘Alys can see something!’ Jonas shouted, though he didn’t know what that meant. He wanted to hear Alys again, hoping she could tell him what was coming.
‘Go sit down!’ Sigurd called to Eddeth, turning back to Vik.
Ludo left Stina behind, wanting to know what was going on, but no one could tell him.
Something, Eddeth was sure, knowin
g the answer was out there, waiting.
If only she could find it.
‘Where will we stay?’ Bergit asked, wanting an answer quickly. The wind was trying to knock them off their feet, and she wanted shelter and a hot fire to thaw out her frozen limbs. Ulrick had Lotta in his arms, smiling at the little girl, not listening to his wife. And biting down on her annoyance, Bergit tried again, slipping a hand through his arm, pulling him to her. ‘Where will we stay?’
‘Asger knows the taverner. Says he’s got a cottage!’ Ulrick winked at Bergit, who frowned at him.
‘You want us to go traipsing around a strange city in the dark? In this weather?’
It was a fair point, Ulrick thought, hearing Lotta’s teeth chattering in his ear. ‘Well, we’ll decide what to do in the tavern. Something to eat will help. A few flames too!’ He shivered himself, frozen solid, feeling Lotta trying to wriggle away from him. ‘You want to get down?’
She nodded, and once her boots were in the snow, she gripped his hand, turning her head, hearing a voice bellowing an angry roar in the distance. She saw the clouds swirling, lightning shivering through the sky, thunder crashing down around them now.
Perhaps it was just the storm?
And focusing on the path ahead, Lotta hurried after Ulrick, eager to get to the tavern.
Dagger was like a horse unhappy at being reined in. Vik was working hard to keep her pointed at the coast, his forearms pulsing with the effort, though the ship seemed determined to head further out to sea.
He stood alone, focused, icy rain stabbing his face, waves drenching him often, wet hair plastered over his eyes. He shook from the cold and from the need to see through that annoying wet hair, though the sky was black and the sea was indistinguishable from the clouds, and Vik thought wistfully of his little fishing boat and the peace of his calm lake.
