by A. E. Rayne
‘Berger? No, not today.’
Reinar frowned, knowing that Berger was likely still trying to find that gold.
Or perhaps he had, and now he was long gone?
Elin saw Falla Gundersen running after her escaping son, and she smiled. ‘Everything will feel better when we’re home, I’m sure. And don’t worry so much about Slussfall. Falla’s husband seems to listen to her, and she appears to want to be a lady rather badly. They won’t do anything to displease Ake.’ And sighing, she gave up on trying to get Reinar’s attention. He’d twisted around, eyes on the ramparts, where Bjarni was talking to Lief.
‘Sorry?’
Elin patted his arm. ‘I’ll go after Falla. See if there’s anything I can do.’
Reinar nodded as she turned away, his attention quickly on Berger, who had ridden back into the fort with a handful of men, and now dismounted, leading his blowing black horse towards his lord. ‘Any luck?’
Berger shook his head, his familiar smile gone. They’d explored inside the fort, gone through every chamber, digging through cellars and storage rooms. He had taken his men through the forest, down to the quarry, back to the harbour, but there’d not even been a whiff of Hakon Vettel’s gold.
‘Well, maybe it was just a rumour?’ Reinar decided with a weary grin. ‘Another way for the Vettels to feel better about themselves?’
Berger wasn’t so sure, but his attention was quickly on the busy tavern, and he turned his horse around, tugging him towards the stables.
Reinar followed him, ready for a drink himself. ‘It’s worth keeping your ears open, though. That gold belongs to Ake now. And for what he’s about to face, he’s going to need every coin he can find.’
The red-cheeked man was called Edwin, his wife, Elfa, and they lived entirely alone in the longhouse.
It seemed strange, Vik thought, to find a young couple in such a big house with no family to speak of, but his attention drifted to where Sigurd was talking to Edwin, his eyes skipping to the goat roasting over the cooking fire in the rear of the long room.
It was surprisingly bright, with clusters of glowing candles and lamps on every surface. Another, larger fire graced the centre of the house, with wooden stools and benches pulled up to it; enough for twenty people, Vik was sure. He rubbed his hands together, thinking of how cold everyone would be waiting out in the barn, smiling as Elfa shuffled towards him with a jug of ale and a cup.
‘You must be thirsty after your... difficulties?’
Vik nodded, taking the cup with only the slightest tremor of guilt. Elfa was still red-faced after her time in the steam house, and she looked away from his eyes with embarrassment in hers, knowing that he’d seen her naked. She was plain, leaning towards ugly, with only a few stained teeth spread across a gaping mouth. She sniffed a lot, wiping her round red nose with her chafed red hands. ‘You and your husband are lucky with that steam house. In this weather? I’m surprised you don’t have lines of neighbours outside, waiting their turn.’
Elfa sniggered, gums showing, though she didn’t say anything as she turned back to her husband, offering to refill Sigurd’s cup. The smell of smoking fish was strong, the goat was sizzling on the spit, the ale was delicious, and Vik had a strange feeling about all of it.
‘How long are they going to take?’ Ollo grumbled at Ludo, who stood at the barn doors, hoping to see some sign of Sigurd or Vik. It was snowing again, turning heavy now, and he was so cold that he felt ready to run into the steam house and rip off all his clothes. Ollo whacked him. ‘Ludo!’
Ludo turned around with a frown. ‘Well, how would I know? They looked nervous. Maybe they don’t want us here? Maybe they’re not the hospitable type? How would I know?’
‘What about you?’ Ollo wondered, peering at Eddeth, who was sneezing behind him. ‘What can you see?’
Eddeth wiped her nose on her sleeve, sniffing loudly. ‘See? I see straw and hay and nothing else. And in this weather? Where are all their livestock?’
‘Maybe they ate them already?’ Aldo suggested, shivering behind her, just as impatient for food and warmth as Ollo but reluctant to admit it.
‘Well, if they’ve few enough stores that they need to eat their animals before winter’s dug in, they’re hardly going to want to share with us, are they?’ Ludo decided, eyes on the crew, most of whom had retreated to a stack of hay bales, tired with the waiting, cold without cloaks, hunched over and shaking. The barn was certainly warmer than being stuck outside, but not by much. ‘Though nothing to stop them letting us into that steam house.’
Eddeth’s eyes rounded at the thought of so much warmth. The cold usually didn’t trouble her, but after her night in the sea, she was chilled to the bone and unable to focus as clearly as she needed to.
They still had to find a way to save Alys and Magnus before it was too late.
Arnon de Sant had been raised from the dead by the evil Goddess of Magic, and Eddeth’s fears were growing, worried what he was capable of.
The ship slowed down as evening approached, and Alys leaned over the gunwale, tilting her head up to the darkening sky, wondering what games the gods were playing. She saw a glimpse of Eddeth’s grandmother’s book floating down to the bottom of the sea. Salma’s book sank with it, pages flapping, ink running, destroying all that knowledge. All that they needed to know.
Arnon was playing a game of dice with the crew, and Magnus had dropped his head to his knees, overwhelmed with tiredness. The helmsman was hunched over the tiller, mouth shut against the bitter wind, and Alys was left entirely alone with her thoughts.
She’d seen glimpses of her grandfather in the sea. She’d heard Dagger breaking up, the screams of her friends as they tried to find each other in the darkness, their desperation to get to shore.
And then nothing.
Nothing for so long that she felt sick with worry.
Memories of Arnon touching her lingered, and Alys knew that once they reached Orvala, there would be nothing holding him back.
She had to find a way to escape quickly. Arnon had five men helping him, though perhaps Ebben would be a reluctant ally? He seemed like a nice enough young man, Alys decided, having listened to his thoughts closely now.
If only he would go against his father.
And then there was Magnus, who was in even greater danger than her. Arnon felt a blood connection to his son, but he didn’t love Magnus. He would kill him if he stood in his way. Alys could feel that.
She dropped her eyes down to the sea, thinking of Alari, who hated her, Valera, who had helped her, and Thenor, who had chosen her to be on his side. But who else was out there watching?
Who else wanted her out of the way...
Mirella had decided to eat supper in her chamber, and though she could feel Tarl’s displeasure at the loss of her company, she smiled at her granddaughter, who sat opposite her, sulking. ‘You don’t like fish?’
Lotta didn’t answer. She hadn’t spoken to the woman since she’d torn her away from Ulrick.
She stared at her plate of rolled herring and other fishy things that looked slimy and smelled foul. Some even looked raw. It all stunk, and she pushed her plate away, starving, but stubborn enough to ignore her rumbling belly.
Mirella remembered what it was like to be a mother coaxing a child to eat, though after all these years, she had little patience for it, and Hakon and Ivan had eaten like horses. She didn’t smile as she remembered that life, for it was long gone now.
Irrelevant.
‘What a shame it will be for your mother to arrive here and find you dead of hunger,’ she said simply, stabbing a fish eye with her knife. And lifting it to her lips, she sucked it down.
Lotta shuddered.
‘They’re so good for you, the eyes. I couldn’t imagine eating them at first, though now they are one of my favourite delicacies.’
Lotta forced herself not to look surprised or interested in anything the woman was saying. She thought of Ulrick, wondering where he was. Bergit wo
uld be thrilled to be rid of her, of course, but she hoped that Ulrick felt sad. Perhaps he would find a way to free her like he did when Mother took her away from him?
And quickly clinging to that idea, Lotta’s imagination started running away with itself.
Mirella placed a hand on Lotta’s arm, startling her. ‘And where do you imagine Ulrick could hide you away from me?’ She didn’t smile, though she enjoyed the look of horror in Lotta’s eyes. ‘Do you think I couldn’t find you? That I wouldn’t send my helpers to bring you back? No, Ulrick knows his place, so he will not try and rescue you. Besides, he is leaving with the lord in the morning. For The Murk. It’s a terrifying place, with all sorts of creatures and beasts and men who want to murder everyone who crosses into their territory, so perhaps Ulrick will never return? Who knows what will happen to him?’
Mirella had such a look of menace in her green eyes that Lotta lurched forward in fear. ‘You won’t kill Ulrick, will you? You won’t hurt him?’ It was the wrong thing to say, and the realisation of that sank in as Mirella’s eyes brightened, twinkling now.
‘Hurt Ulrick? Do you think I could do that? That I would do that?’
Lotta shrugged, becoming quiet again, biting her bottom lip.
She didn’t want to reveal what she thought, so she frowned deeply, trying hard not to think at all.
Mirella watched the girl, surprised by her stubbornness.
Impressed by her strength of will.
Though she was just a tool.
There was no point becoming attached.
They were back in the shed behind the tavern, arguing.
Well, Bergit was arguing. Ulrick was thinking about what he was going to do, barely listening. Until he was. ‘What? But that’s ridiculous? Two hundred pieces of silver? How can he think to charge that?’
‘You didn’t see the house, my love. It had two stories. Three separate bedchambers. Three! And a barn attached, with stables and two outbuildings. The kitchen was almost its own room. It was enormous!’ Bergit didn’t want to talk about the girl, and she didn’t want to live in the stinking shed a moment longer than she had to.
‘What we have is all we have, Bergit. You want to line this bastard’s pockets? For what? To live in a house too big for our needs? Alone? That’s what you seem to want, isn’t it? To just be alone!’ Ulrick turned his eyes to the door, shoulders slumping. ‘I’m leaving tomorrow.’
Bergit was too surprised by his outburst to feel angry, and the prospect of him leaving so quickly unsettled her. ‘Why? Why go with that lord right away? What do you even know about him?’
Ulrick sat on the edge of the bed, hearing it groan. ‘Because he’s my new lord, our new lord, and it’s an opportunity to prove myself useful. You want that, don’t you?’
‘Of course. Of course I do.’ Bergit sat beside him, hand on his knee, wanting to turn his attention towards her. While he was gone, she would think of some way to get that house, but, in the meantime, she needed Ulrick to feel happy with her. To forget about the girl. They had come all this way to make a new start, and it needed to go well. If Tarl Brava stood a chance of becoming the King of Alekka, then Ulrick needed to be by his side.
Ulrick could feel the warmth of Bergit’s hand on his knee, her body leaning against his, but he felt distracted, uptight, wanting to leave. Mirella Vettel had taken Lotta from him, and he had a sinking feeling that he was never going to get her back.
Edwin and Elfa were an odd couple, like two children in adult’s bodies. They giggled at the wrong times, whispering constantly. Other times, they appeared nervous and retreated into dark corners to mutter urgently to one another. But, eventually, they came back to the fire where Sigurd and Vik sat, trying to be patient, though that was proving near impossible. They’d each drunk two cups of ale and now glanced at the door, wanting to go and check on their friends.
‘You may stay!’ Edwin announced joyfully. ‘But in the barn. My wife wouldn’t feel comfortable having you sleep in here with us.’
Sigurd looked unhappy about that, and sensing it, Elfa leaned towards him with a gap-toothed smile. ‘But you may eat with us and enjoy the steam house too. That will warm you up no end! I will prepare the meal while you’re gone.’
Sigurd nodded. ‘Thank you, I’m grateful. Is there any ale I could take to my friends?’
‘Yes, I’ll come out with you, bring you a few jugs. Elfa will get to work in here. That goat won’t be long, and I’ve got fish smoking besides.’
Vik stood with a groan. ‘We’ll enjoy that, I’m sure.’
Edwin disappeared into the storage room, looking for more ale, leaving Elfa to stare at both men, twitching nervously.
‘I’ll go to the barn,’ Vik decided, leaving Sigurd to wait for Edwin. ‘Get everyone into the steam house.’ He was looking forward to that himself.
‘Good, good,’ Elfa grinned, ushering him to the door. ‘Supper won’t be long. Long enough for you to thaw out!’ She was still pink-cheeked herself, eager to get the men out of her house so she could hurry things along. And with a quick nod, Vik disappeared outside.
Elfa eyed the handsome Sigurd Vilander, mesmerized by his bright blue eyes. ‘Are you a lord?’ she wondered as her husband returned with two jugs of ale. ‘You look like a lord.’
Sigurd shook his head. ‘I’m not, no. My brother is, though.’
Elfa was intrigued, eager to know more, but her husband strode past her, heading for the door, and with a nod at Sigurd, he disappeared out into the snow.
Jonas had left the barn behind, wanting to take a look around. He had an odd feeling, as though something wasn’t right, and he didn’t want to sit around waiting to be surprised. He’d made enough mistakes lately to feel the need to get out ahead of them.
Ollo had come with him.
‘You should have stayed back in the barn.’
‘Why?’ Ollo grumbled. ‘You might need help.’
‘From you?’
‘I got you out of that prison hole, didn’t I? You who got thrown in there in the first place, slipping over like an old man.’
It was true, and Jonas nodded. ‘Fair enough, but I wasn’t looking to draw any attention to myself. Just wanted to take a quiet look around.’
‘It’s a strange place,’ Ollo decided, head swivelling as they crept towards the stables, snow crunching beneath their boots. It was so oddly quiet, though the smell of that fish had his stomach growling like a forest cat.
Jonas was pleased to know that he wasn’t alone in his odd feelings. ‘I just hope they have horses. We need some horses.’
Ollo tripped over a tree root, stumbling down to his knees.
‘Lucky for me, you’ve come along,’ Jonas grinned, reaching out a hand to help him up. And eyes on the barn, he sniffed. ‘You smell that?’
Ollo stood, flapping snow off his cloak, brushing it off his trousers, now soaked through again. ‘I smell fish. Fish and smoke.’
Jonas did too, but convinced that there was something else lingering in the air, he walked towards the stables, one hand on the door.
‘Jonas!’
Ollo turned around, almost falling into a hole, and seeing Sigurd, and Edwin with jugs of ale in his hands, he waded towards them, leaving Jonas behind.
Jonas took his hand away from the stable door, following him, the memory of that odd smell lingering.
18
After supper, Mirella left a silent Lotta in her chamber, watched over by a servant as she headed down to the hall, sensing Tarl’s need for her growing.
Despite his skill as a warrior and his fearlessness in battle, Tarl Brava was like a child in constant need of reassurance, and when he saw her, Mirella watched his handsome face relax.
‘My dreamer!’ Tarl called across the hall, banging a fist on the table, causing one of the heads to roll onto the floor. Sverri the Small, standing by his chair, rushed forward, placing it back on the table. ‘I thought you had left me! Decided to become a nursemaid instead!’
He had a booming voice, and Solveigh, who had been forced to the table, made to sit next to her husband, cringed, her head aching.
Tarl didn’t notice. His eyes were on Mirella, who made her way through the packed hall, reaching the high table where Tarl was motioning for her to sit beside him. ‘Where have you been? We’re leaving in the morning, and you’ve barely had a word to say, Mirella. Is that because of the girl? Now that you have her, you no longer wish to speak to me?’ It surprised Tarl that he knew so little about his dreamer. She had revealed few things about herself since arriving in Orvala, though he’d always assumed that she had no children of her own.
Mirella didn’t sit down. ‘We can walk outside, perhaps? It’s loud in here. Too loud to talk.’
Tarl turned to Solveigh, his eyes quickly moving past her to Sverri. ‘Watch her closely. I want her here when I return, and don’t let her drink too much either.’ Pulling the pewter goblet out of Solveigh’s hand, Tarl tipped her wine onto the floor. ‘Eat something, Wife, for how will you bear my sons looking like a corpse?’
Solveigh ignored him, glaring at Sverri, who sighed, edging closer.
And ignoring them both, Tarl stood, slipping an arm around Mirella’s back, smiling as she edged away from him, heading to the doors.
‘You don’t want your hat?’
He laughed. ‘I never saw you as a mother before, and yet, here you are, Mirella, unable to stop caring for us all!’ And waiting while his steward hurried him his cloak and hat, Tarl smiled at her. ‘You will miss me, I think. Though now you have the little girl. And what will you do about her, I wonder? Why do you have her at all?’
Mirella swept his questions away, slipping through the door.
He followed her.
‘So, do you have a child? Are they alive? Mirella?’
She stopped, turning to him, snow sweeping across them both. ‘You will go to The Murk and make an alliance while I am here doing my own important work. That is all.’ And turning back around, she strode off.
