by A. E. Rayne
Hearing a sharp grumble from his father, Ebben left Magnus with Alys and headed back to him, hoping to convince him that it wouldn’t do any harm to let them spend a moment together.
Magnus almost cried as his mother pulled him close. ‘Are you alright? Mama?’ And then he did cry, having felt so worried about her for longer than he could remember. ‘Did he... hurt you?’
Alys squeezed Magnus tightly, wanting to warm him up, but they were both soaked and wind-battered, and it seemed like an impossible task. ‘No. Magnus, no. Please, don’t worry about me.’ She spoke directly into his ear. The wind was loud, but she didn’t want her voice carrying to Arnon. ‘You mustn’t worry about me. I can protect myself, I promise.’
Magnus leaned back, wet face full of doubts.
Alys smiled, blinking away the images of what Arnon had done to her. She shuddered but kept smiling. ‘You don’t believe me?’
‘I want to, but you... you let him hurt you. I want to but...’
Alys felt embarrassed, ashamed that she had to convince her son that she could look after herself. ‘You’ve been through so much, Magnus. It’s all my fault. I should have done something sooner. I should have done something before it was too late. I tried...’ Crying was pointless, but tears came anyway. And sensing movement amongst the sleeping men, Alys panicked, speaking quickly now. ‘I need you to trust me. I can handle your father. I can cope with whatever he does. I can. But you can’t. You mustn’t try anything. You mustn’t look to save me, to keep me safe. He’ll hurt you. I promise, Magnus. He’ll hurt you and not care.’
Magnus knew that, but still...
And sensing how much Magnus wanted to defend her, Alys knew that she had to tell him everything. As much as she could, at least. ‘I killed a man.’
‘What?’
‘In Ottby. He was hurting Stina. I... killed him before he could kill us.’
Magnus stilled beneath her hands, staring into his mother’s eyes, unable to speak.
‘Jonas showed me what to do when I was a girl. Him and Vik. They taught me for years, so I know what to do. When I can, if I can, I’ll save us. I’ll do whatever I can to save us, so please, Magnus, trust me. Don’t do anything silly.’
Ebben approached, bending down. ‘My father says I have to take him back. I’m sorry.’
‘Just one more thing,’ Alys said before leaning towards Magnus, her lips brushing his ear. ‘When we get to Orvala, I’ll set us free, I promise. Stay safe until then, and don’t upset your father. Don’t do anything to help me, please. Promise me.’
Magnus nodded quickly, feeling Ebben’s hand on his arm. ‘I promise. I do.’ And then he was on his feet, stumbling across the deck, hoping his mother had told him the truth.
Alys watched him go, trying to hold onto the hope that her grandfather would survive, not wanting him to have lost his life trying to save hers.
After all the years of pain she’d put him through, it couldn’t end like this.
Jonas could feel Vik struggling behind him, and he turned, the wind hitting him square in the face. Tugging on Vik’s arm, he tried to get his attention. ‘L-l-l-land!’ he screamed, feeling a lift. His legs were heavy, his body so cold that every part of him was jerking uncontrollably now, but after hours in the sea, he’d finally grown convinced that they were being tossed towards the shore.
Vik didn’t even appear to hear him. The weight of Aldo, who was a tall boy, had worn Vik down, and already shattered from his time at the tiller, he was struggling to keep them both afloat now. But he heard the excitement in Jonas’ voice, and it gave him a lift. ‘Come on,’ he urged, teeth chattering. ‘C-c-come on, boy!’ Dagger was gone, lost in the storm, though bits of wood floated past them occasionally, and Vik grabbed hold of one, passing it to Aldo. ‘Lean on this!’
Aldo took the wood, trying not to cry. His legs were numb. He couldn’t feel them at all, and he worried that soon he would simply pull Vik down like an anchor; Vik who had fought so hard to help him.
He glanced around, trying to see anyone else. Once, he’d heard the odd shout, seen heads bobbing above the water. There’d been screams.
And now nothing.
He couldn’t see Eddeth or Stina. There was no sign of Sigurd or Ludo.
But he could see Jonas ahead of him, and he could feel Vik working hard to pull him to shore. So, securing the wooden paling under one arm, Aldo Varnass started paddling.
Alari strode into the stables with a smile, eye on her uncle, who was wrapped from head to toe in fur, standing by a majestic white stallion.
Eskvir scowled. His horse was saddled, and he was ready to ride.
Momentarily tempted to ignore her, he instead stepped away from the horse, glowering at his niece. ‘Your games do not help us!’ he roared, temper exploding. ‘And yet you continue to play them as though you cannot see what we are trying to achieve! But your meddling could cost us everything! Mirella is my dreamer. Mine! And yet you seek to undermine her by bringing her daughter’s husband back to life? By sending them to Orvala? Why? When the Vettels have been defeated? Their claim gone?’ His breath pumped in furious white clouds, surrounding them both. ‘If you continue to pursue vengeance so hungrily, you will sacrifice victory. Surely you can see that, Niece? Vengeance has a place, but it should never become an all-consuming need, blotting out all good sense. There is no path to victory for the blind!’
Eskvir’s words had no more impact on Alari than a bee buzzing in the distance. She flicked her braid over her shoulder, eye bright. ‘But Mirella is no goddess! Is that what you think, Uncle? That she should be a goddess? Is that your plan?’
‘For helping us? Of course. I would be more than happy to see her become one of us.’
Alari was surprised to hear him say it to her face. ‘Goddess of what?’ she spat. ‘Of magic?’
Eskvir struggled to contain his rage, though Alari was gifted, and he very much wanted her on his side. ‘We must come together to defeat Thenor. How will we ever hope to stop him if you are fighting a different war? Or is that your intention now? To go it alone?’
‘Tarl Brava is not the man to reclaim Stornas. He’s not the man to wear the Sun Torc. He’s not!’ Alari insisted, her long white braid slapping her back.
Eskvir snorted derisively.
‘You believe Mirella over me? But I am the Goddess of Dreamers! How can you possibly think that she knows more than me?’ The look on Eskvir’s face had Alari intrigued. ‘What? What has she told you? What has she seen?’
Eskvir ignored her questions, eyeing a quick exit, his patience at an end. Turning back to his horse, he grabbed the pommel, and swinging himself up into the saddle, he eyed her sharply. ‘Decide whose side you wish to be on, for I have no patience for your games. And if it’s mine, then you will apologise to Mirella. Make peace with her, and we will start again.’ And with a sharp kick, Eskvir spun his horse around, driving him out of the stables. ‘But cross me again, Alari, and I promise you, there will be no going back!’
They made it to shore.
To a beach of stones.
Shaking so much that they couldn’t even speak.
Jonas pulled Vik to him, and they held onto each other, trying to stay warm. Vik was lifeless, limp, unable to move after helping Aldo out of the water. He shook in Jonas’ arms, feeling some strength in them and grateful for it.
Aldo had disappeared quickly, and neither of them had the energy to try and find out where he was, but soon they heard him nearby, making a fire.
They couldn’t speak, and so Aldo kept working away, running into the trees, finding branches and twigs and moss – all of it wet. It was raining lightly, the storm having finally eased, and he didn’t know how he was going to get a fire going. But after how hard Vik had worked to save his life, he was certainly going to try.
The roar of the waves crashing down on the beach was loud, thunderous, but Aldo looked up, hearing an explosive sneeze, and dropping his pile of branches onto the stones, he hurried to the fores
hore. ‘Eddeth?’
Jonas and Vik couldn’t get up. They sat shaking, side by side, as Sigurd and Eddeth collapsed beside them.
‘Ow!’ Eddeth couldn’t see, slipping on the stones, biting her numb lips.
Sigurd tried to grab her, but his hands were shaking too much, and he couldn’t see either, falling after her.
Aldo was there quickly, helping Eddeth up onto her hands and knees.
Happy to see him, she wrapped her arms around the boy. ‘You’re a-a-a...’ And unable to form the word, she hugged him tightly.
Aldo was frozen and wet but not as affected by it as the rest of them, so leaving Eddeth with Sigurd, he turned back to the pile of firewood. ‘I have to go. I must make a fire.’
‘G-g-g-g...’ Eddeth’s head kept nodding, though no words would come. And then Sigurd’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her close.
They stared into the darkness, listening to the waves, unable to still their shuddering bodies.
Waiting for dawn to come.
14
They had slept in a tiny room off the back of the tavern. No more than a storage shed, Bergit thought with a groan as she dragged herself out of the short bed she’d almost folded herself into.
Ulrick and Lotta had slept on the dirt floor.
It was hardly an auspicious start to their adventure, though Bergit felt a lift, knowing that a new day would bring an opportunity to begin properly, and she nudged Ulrick with her boot, trying to wake him up.
‘What?’ he grumbled groggily. ‘It’s still dark.’
‘It’s not. That’s just your eyes being closed, you old fool!’ And standing with a yawn and an urgent need to find somewhere to piss, Bergit wrapped a thin blanket around her shoulders and stepped over her sleeping husband and the irritating child, heading for the door.
Ulrick pushed himself up, hearing the creak as she slipped outside. ‘Where are you going?’ he yawned, stiff and sore, moving slowly. And smiling at Lotta, who looked frozen solid with a bright red nose, he moved his blanket to cover her. ‘Looks like we’re finally here. Our new home!’
Lotta didn’t even want to open her eyes. She was cold and afraid, and she wanted to stay under the blankets until everything was different. Though knowing that was impossible, she sighed, sitting up. ‘What about food?’
Ulrick grinned. ‘A good question! I imagine we can find that in the tavern. If not, we’ll go to the market. There’s always food sellers in a market!’ Rubbing his hands together, he yawned until his eyes watered. ‘And then I must get to the hall, make myself known to the lord, for that’s when the fun begins!’ He reached out, taking Lotta’s hand. ‘Now, help me up, so we can get ready.’ Lotta looked at him with a sleepy scowl, and Ulrick laughed, standing himself, and pulling her up instead. ‘It won’t be so bad. You’ll see. And your father won’t find us now. Not here.’
Lotta knew that wasn’t true, but Ulrick looked so happy as he wrapped his swordbelt around his waist, running a hand over his wild grey hair, that she didn’t say anything. She glanced at the door, dreading Bergit’s return, not wanting to begin the day.
‘How long till we’re in Orvala?’ Arnon called to Borr. The helmsman was a sullen man of few words, more interested in coins and less interested in Arnon de Sant’s company; Arnon de Sant who had killed one of his friends for trying to touch his wife. Borr knew that Dead Eye had been an old bastard, unable to control himself around a pretty face, but to kill him?
He was struggling to get past that.
‘Should be there tomorrow,’ he muttered, eyes fixed straight ahead.
Arnon was swaying beside him, still half asleep. The storm had tossed the ship around all night, and few had slept soundly. He saw a glimpse of his wife as she stood, walking to the bow to stretch her legs. He remembered the sweet feel of her beneath him, the touch of her skin, and he felt an ache to be alone with her again. ‘Tomorrow?’ Looking up, Arnon saw the clouds stretched across the sky like a dark blanket, promising another wild day full of wind and rain, maybe even snow.
And he smiled.
Sigurd stood on the sandy foreshore, eyes peeled open, head swivelling.
The sky was dirty and grim, the sea the same. It was hard to make out much, but Sigurd was certain there was no sign of Ludo.
He heard someone coming, but he didn’t look around. Eventually, he saw Jonas, who put a hand on his shoulder.
‘Come back to the fire. Get warm.’
Sigurd shook his head. ‘I want to see if they’re out there. Ludo and Stina. They might need some help.’
Jonas knew how much Sigurd cared for Ludo. Ludo had come to live with the Vilanders as a young boy, and they’d been as close as brothers ever since. ‘Eddeth’s been in the trees with Aldo. They’ve found a few things to nibble on. How about I bring you something to eat?’
Sigurd shook his head. ‘Not hungry. I’ll just stay here.’
And nodding, Jonas turned away, wishing he was wearing his cloak. The searing wind had frozen them but quickly dried their clothes, though their clothes weren’t enough to keep out the cold. Aldo’s fire was struggling, the wood so wet that it mainly sizzled. Still, it was better than nothing. ‘I’ll save you something.’ And patting Sigurd on the shoulder again, he headed back to the fire.
There were only thirteen of them now.
After the serpent had chewed through seven of the crew and poor Falki, and the storm had swept them all into the frothing sea, there were only thirteen left from the thirty-nine who had set out from Slussfall.
The surviving crew members had gradually staggered onto the beach throughout the night, falling down by Aldo’s fire. The boy had been more than useful, and Jonas was reminded of his grandson, his fears for Magnus and Alys rising. They were going to have to travel overland now, losing more time.
Despite shuddering with cold, Sigurd felt no urge to follow Jonas back to the fire. He just wanted to see a sign of Ludo. Or Stina. There wasn’t even a hint of them. He saw bits of Dagger washing up on the shore, feeling overwhelmed by sadness, though she had just been a ship, not his best friend.
He thought of Reinar and Bjarni, and how the four of them had become as thick as thieves once Torvig had left Ottby. And thinking of Torvig always took Sigurd back to Tulia, and he closed his eyes for a moment, wanting to feel the warmth of her skin beneath his frozen hands.
The loss of her was agony.
He couldn’t lose Ludo too.
‘There’s little reason for us to stay beyond tomorrow,’ Reinar decided. Lief had quickly taken control, and he’d let him, knowing that it was the best thing for Slussfall.
‘I agree.’ Bjarni chomped through a slice of warm rye bread, mouth full. He was eager to get back to Agnette and Liara, though he was going to miss Slussfall’s food, rarely having eaten better in his life. ‘This old fort doesn’t need you wandering around with nothing to do. Ottby does. Ottby and Ake.’
Reinar drained his cup of buttermilk, eyes drifting to the hall doors where Lief stood with his wife. ‘Mmmm, but what will he think of Lief Gundersen? A loyal Vettel man if ever there was one.’
‘You’re leaving enough men here, so it won’t be a problem.’
‘I hope so.’
Bjarni turned to his friend, lowering his voice. ‘You’ve a lot on your mind, I know, but I don’t think you’ve anything to worry about here. You’re making the right decision.’
‘A lot on my mind?’ Reinar pretended not to know what Bjarni was talking about, which was never a good idea.
‘You have, whether you want to admit it to yourself or not. Whatever you’ve decided, Reinar, your feelings have a mind of their own. Know that.’ And reaching for another slice of bread, Bjarni smiled. ‘You can never ignore your heart, as much as you might try. Above all things, it knows the truth.’
Reinar didn’t want to hear it, and grabbing the buttermilk jug, he changed the subject. ‘What do you think our chances of finding the Vettel gold are? Berger seems fixed on it, though I imagine
Hakon will have made it near impossible to find.’
Bjarni blinked, surprised by the sharp change of direction, but he nodded. ‘Ha! Berger Eivin hunting for gold? Sounds about right. I hope he finds it, I really do, but I think he’d need a dreamer to track it down!’
‘What did you dream of last night?’
Alys tried not to sigh, tired of the question. ‘The storm mainly. I’m not sure I slept much.’ Arnon was squatting in front of her, ale cup in hand, his face too close to hers. She barely blinked, not wanting to provoke an angry outburst, though it was impossible to predict what Arnon might get angry about. She tried to read his thoughts, though they were suddenly hidden, and Alys wondered if Alari was keeping her out somehow.
‘No, well, I imagine another wild night lies ahead of us, but by then, we’ll be in Orvala with Lotta,’ Arnon smiled. ‘All of us together.’
Alys was surprised by his confidence. ‘But how will you get her away from the man who took her? He’s a warrior, you know. An experienced warrior.’
Arnon laughed. ‘You said he was old!’
‘Older than you, but a warrior, like my grandfather.’
‘Your grandfather? You think he’s any use now? You think that old fool could still hurt someone?’ Arnon stumbled, losing his balance, splashing ale over Alys’ cloak. He looked annoyed, moving to sit beside her, glancing around for more ale. ‘This man who took Lotta, he won’t be hard to kill. One old man? We’ll find him quickly, kill him easily. You’ve nothing to worry about. I’ll get our daughter back.’
When Alys saw Lotta in her mind, she was running away.
Running down the beach, blonde hair streaming, struggling in the sand with her little legs. And Alys saw herself trying to catch her, calling out to her, but Lotta kept running.
