by A. E. Rayne
They all turned to her then, and Mirella almost gasped, surprised by how much they resembled each other. She saw hints of Jesper in Magnus, but Alys and Lotta both looked like her. Like her mother, Eida.
After all these years without a single reminder of her family, it was unsettling to suddenly have them all here. She cursed Alari again for her interference, knowing that she was likely watching, enjoying the game. It had never been her intention to have Alys in Orvala. She had wanted Lotta. Lotta would be useful, she knew, but Alys...
Servants bustled into the hall, carrying trays of cold fish and warm flatbreads.
‘Come and have something to eat, children,’ Mirella ordered. ‘Sit at the table over there.’ She was still in her cloak, unable to decide what to do, feeling unusually muddled.
Neither child moved.
Mirella turned back to them, frowning sharply, and in the blink of an eye, they were scurrying to the table.
Alys watched Mirella, unable to read her thoughts.
This woman was her mother.
That thought kept hitting her like a wave.
Her mother.
She made to join her children at the table, not wanting to be away from them, but Mirella touched her arm. ‘Bathilda will watch them.’ She lifted a sharp eyebrow at her old servant before turning back to Alys. ‘You and I will sit over here.’
‘No.’ Alys held her ground. ‘No more secrets. Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of them.’ And ignoring her mother’s look of surprise, she strode towards the table, where her children were already filling up their plates.
Ollo Narp was hungry.
He wished Aldo and Ludo had caught more than a half-starved grouse for supper. Supper that appeared hours away if Vik and Sigurd didn’t hurry back soon.
‘When are they coming?’ he grumbled moodily, swaying back and forth, trying not to scream. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt his feet.
‘Ssshhh,’ Ludo hissed, pointing at Eddeth. ‘She’s trying to see something.’
Ollo snorted. ‘Looks asleep to me.’
Jonas was ready to snap at Ollo, but cocking his head to one side, he realised that Eddeth did, in fact, look sound asleep.
Staring at Jonas’ quizzical face, Stina nudged Eddeth.
Who jumped off the log, panic in her eyes, breath smoke clouding her face.
Jonas stared at her. ‘Eddeth? What did you see?’
Eddeth couldn’t speak. She blinked furiously into the brightness of the snowy clearing, trying to get her bearings. Eventually, she opened her mouth, remembering that Vik and Sigurd had gone. ‘Trouble. I see trouble! We have to leave now!’
Sigurd saw a woman.
He thought it was a woman. Her hair was long and white, swinging behind her back in a long braid.
Blinking, he wondered if he was seeing things.
Not seeing her at all now.
Just endless rows of silvery trunks.
And turning over, he tried to find Vik. The noise of the camp was growing louder, and Sigurd could tell that the men were well into their drinking. He could smell the tang of ale in the air, and he thought of Ottby’s hall and the high table where his father had sat for all those years. Once, it had felt as though Stellan Vilander would always be sitting there, as much of a fixture as Valera’s Tree. Sigurd blinked, trying to focus, seeing a clump of boulders ahead. He would need to move around them, but he couldn’t afford to stand up, not wanting to be seen. So, wriggling backwards, sensing that the hillock was shrinking and wouldn’t keep his presence masked for long, he made his way around the boulders.
Vik turned his head, watching him go.
The camp was sprawling, as large as he’d feared.
He caught a glimpse of a yellow banner, a pair of axes crossed in the middle. Vik didn’t recognise it, and he frowned, wondering what the army was doing here.
Heading south?
He turned back, trying to think.
Sigurd had told him what Ake’s dreamer had seen. Enemies were swarming above them. Enemies who all wanted Ake’s crown.
That was nothing new, Vik supposed, feeling chilled to the bone.
Moving again, he finally saw the left flank of the camp reveal itself. The army was mostly positioned east of the stream, it seemed, so if they headed further inland, they’d be able to outflank them.
Whoever they were.
The axes? He didn’t know.
Sliding backwards, Vik waited for Sigurd, who was almost invisible against the snow now, still moving along.
And then a blood-curdling scream, and Vik froze, heart thumping, wondering what had happened.
It was a struggle to move quickly in the deep snow, but that scream had everyone charging for the horses.
‘We have to ride!’ Ollo bellowed, cheeks red, open mouth puffing out clouds of breath smoke as he reached Destroyer, fumbling with his reins.
Jonas growled behind him, lifting a boot out of the snow, teeth gritted. He thought of Vik, wondering what the scream meant. Eddeth hadn’t been able to tell them much, but there was no doubting that she’d been right to see trouble.
And that trouble was now coming for them.
‘Ow!’ Ludo yelped, staggering down to his knees.
Stina had been right behind him, and she went down after him into some sort of trough.
‘Come on!’ Ollo called, catching another sharp look from Jonas as he flung himself into Destroyer’s saddle, though the horse sagged under his weight, looking ready for a long sleep. ‘We have to get moving! Vik and Sigurd will catch us!’
Jonas hesitated, though he knew Vik would tell them to go.
Ludo turned to Eddeth. ‘But what’s in there?’
Eddeth ignored him, bounding towards her horse, lifting her legs high, panic in her eyes. ‘If we don’t get away, we’ll be caught. I know that! Oh yes, indeed, we must hurry!’
Stina gripped her arm, wanting to steady them both, watching as the rest of the crew reached their horses.
‘Which way?’ Ollo called, looking back over his shoulder. ‘Which way?’
And then Vik was there, running through the snow, cloak flapping behind him, hand in the air, motioning urgently to the horses.
Ludo glanced over his shoulder. ‘Where’s Sigurd? Vik? Where’s Sigurd?’
Vik brought a finger to his lips, scowling, running to the horses.
He mounted Frostbite with speed, turning his head towards Jonas, and meeting his friend’s eyes, he spun around, driving his horse across the snowy field.
‘Hurry!’ Jonas hissed, flapping his hands at Eddeth and Stina, who finally reached their horses.
Ludo picked up Eddeth, almost throwing her over the saddle. She clung to the pommel, righting her body, quickly flapping the reins.
Jonas turned back to Stina, who stood by her horse, cold hands trembling too much to do anything. And grabbing Stina’s hands, Jonas wrapped them around the reins. ‘Hold on!’ He boosted her into the saddle, rushing to his own horse, who looked his way with sad eyes, not wanting to be left behind.
Ludo turned, worrying about the women, but Eddeth’s horse sensed the panic in the air, and she charged after a quickly disappearing Frostbite, Eddeth barely hanging on. Stina followed, the wind raking her face, eyes on Vik in the distance, Ollo and the rest of their men behind him. Jonas, still glancing over his shoulder, bringing up the rear.
There was no sign of Sigurd.
Sigurd thought that he might pass out.
The man dragging him towards the fire was almost lifting him off his feet, but he was grateful, certain that he couldn’t walk on his own.
The pain was excruciating.
Reinar had laughed that the gods had taken up against his brother after all the injuries he’d had of late, and now Sigurd knew he was right.
He wanted to vomit.
He swayed, blood trailing behind him in a bright red line, ears buzzing loudly. He smelled fish and smoke, and then everything went black.
‘Not quite what I felt like for supper!’ joked the heavily-scarred warrior who emerged from his tent, wanting to know what was happening. He kicked Sigurd, who remained unconscious, bleeding from his arm, still stuck in a trap. ‘Where’d the trap come from?’
His man, scowling, dirty face dotted with tattoos, shrugged. ‘No idea, but it did the trick. Now we have a spy, my lord.’
‘You think so?’ Gudrum bent down, rolling Sigurd over. ‘Looks a little raggedy to me. Maybe he’s just lost?’ Though he doubted that was true, and eyeing Ilmar, he smiled. ‘Bring me the girl. Let’s see what she makes of him.’ He turned to another man, blowing on cold hands. ‘And you saw no one else?’
The younger man shook his head. ‘Hard to tell in this weather, my lord. I sent Harl and Lodar to take a look around, but there’s nothing out there at first glance. Likely he’s one of Tarl Brava’s men out scouting. Wanting to know our plans.’
Gudrum wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but mostly unsurprised.
Tarl Brava was right to be suspicious of the man who had, up until this point, been his enemy. It’s nothing more than he would have done in the Lord of Orvala’s place.
Looking up, he smiled at the girl who walked just ahead of Ilmar. She was small, like an elf, her eyes almost too big for her head. Her hair was jet black, hacked off at the shoulders, her eyes so round and blue that he was quickly lost in them, and he blinked, trying not to become distracted by the urge to drag her back to his tent and tear off her clothes. ‘I’ve a gift for you, Raf. A prisoner.’
Raf looked down at the man with a frown. ‘He’s injured.’ She was a forest dweller from The Murk. Orphaned at a young age, she had drifted from tribe to tribe, trying to find a home but never succeeding. There was great suspicion in those northwestern tribes about dreamers, so whenever her gifts had been discovered, she’d been cast out, left to wander on her own.
Though Gudrum had found her, giving her a prized place by his side.
Giving her a home.
He wanted her help, and she wanted...
Raf didn’t know.
She turned to Ilmar. ‘Carry him to my tent. I’ll go find some knitbone leaves.’
Gudrum laughed. ‘In this weather? You think anything’s still growing?’
Raf ignored him, sweeping her enormous bear-fur cloak around as she hurried away. She trembled, but not from the cold. Gudrum’s prisoner had been in her dreams often of late. A tall, striking man; brother of a lord.
She had seen this man for some time.
But who was he, and why was he here?
Eddeth’s horse was sprightly, determined not to be left behind in the race to safety, so she simply clung on. Her thoughts were with Sigurd, not wanting to leave him behind. She’d seen blood and heard men shouting. It terrified her, and she thought of Reinar, knowing he wouldn’t want her to abandon his brother.
But they were being followed.
Two horses.
Eddeth had turned around once, losing her balance, nearly toppling out of the saddle. Now, she kept her eyes on Ludo, knowing that Jonas was right behind her.
Ludo twisted in the saddle, seeing the men gaining on Jonas, who was being slowed down by Eddeth. He wheeled his horse around, dismounting with speed, dragging a bow off his back, pushing his boots down into the snow, needing some balance. And quickly drawing an arrow from his quiver, Ludo nocked it, tracking the first man. He didn’t want to hit the horse, so shifting to the right, he aimed high, not waiting for the arrow to land before drawing another. He turned to face the second rider, who nudged his horse behind Jonas as his friend screamed out, toppling into the snow, the arrow piercing his chest.
Ludo couldn’t hit the second rider. Couldn’t see him.
He moved to one side, waiting while everyone rode past.
Aldo, Stina, Eddeth, Jonas. Three of the crew.
The rider.
Arrow still nocked, Ludo turned, following his path, watching the rider spin his horse around, trying to get out of his way, his friend wailing in the distance. Ludo didn’t hesitate, releasing the arrow, which struck the second rider in the face. Slipping his bow over his back, he drew a knife, running for his first victim. And dropping down to the snow, he slit his throat. Back on his feet, he turned to see that Jonas had dismounted, finishing off the second man.
Panting, Ludo ran to him, pleased to see that Vik had turned back for them.
‘Vik!’ Hand in the air, Ludo charged through the snow.
Vik walked his horse towards him, eyes snapping to the trees on his left, then back to Ludo, wondering what to do.
‘What happened?’
‘An army,’ Vik panted. ‘Yellow banner with two axes. I don’t know it. Some new lord, maybe? Northern. They looked like they’re from The Murk.’
‘What?’ Jonas didn’t understand. ‘Here?’
Vik nodded. ‘Sigurd... I don’t know what happened. Think he got caught in a trap. He was screaming. I think he caught himself in a trap.’
‘And you left him?’ Ludo couldn’t believe it.
‘Course I left him, just as I’d want him to leave me. How do we rescue him if we’re all captured? Killed? What chance do we have of finding Alys and Magnus if we’re prisoners or dead?’
Ollo had finally convinced Destroyer to turn around, and he blew out a long breath as he joined them. ‘Well, what’s happening? We’re not going back, are we?’
‘For Sigurd?’ Ludo was furious. ‘Course we’re going back!’
Vik dismounted, trying to calm Ludo down. ‘It’s an army, as big as Reinar’s. An army, Ludo. Think! We’re not going back. Not now. We’re going to get to safety, and then we’ll decide what to do.’
The day had been the strangest Alys could remember, which was saying something given the amount of strange days she’d experienced lately. The children were playing with Lotta’s new puppy, which she’d named Puddle. He was chasing them, nipping at their ankles, and they were giggling and happy.
Alys smiled. She’d missed those joyful sounds.
‘You can leave, if you wish. You’re not a prisoner here,’ Mirella said. They sat at the high table where she had poured them each a cup of mulled wine.
The smell of cardamom and cinnamon took Alys back to the cottage in Torborg again, remembering how much her grandfather had liked to drink mulled wine. She frowned. ‘Leave? But my children?’
‘You may take Magnus with you, but I will keep Lotta with me.’
Alys shuddered, hearing the cold certainty in that voice. It infuriated her. ‘I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. Why should you think to tell me what to do with my own children?’
‘I know more than you realise, Alys. I’ve seen glimpses of your life over the years. I know how it’s been.’
‘And yet you never tried to help me?’
‘Help you?’ Mirella was confused.
‘Save me from my husband?’
Mirella laughed. ‘It was never my place to save you. I know that all too well. I could have come and taken you away, but you were not ready to leave. Not until that moment on the beach. You still loved Arnon, despite all his flaws. Still pitied him enough to try and help him. No, you needed to leave on your own terms, at a time of your choosing. I went back to your father more times than I can remember, regretting every one of them, feeling like a fool. My ties to him were strong, like ancient roots. It took me years to cut through them for good. Decades for me to save myself. I was never going to be able to save you, no matter how hard I tried.’
‘But you didn’t even try. You’re a dreamer. You could have done something.’
‘You’re a dreamer, Alys. You could have done something!’
Magnus and Lotta froze, turning to stare at the two women, one of whom smiled at them, encouraging them to continue playing. Neither looked happy about it, but then Puddle was back nipping at them again, and they were off and running.
‘Wh
y do you want Lotta?’ Alys thought back to Hakon’s dreamer, who had threatened her daughter, attempting to wield her as a weapon. ‘Because of me? You’re worried about me?’
Mirella wasn’t surprised that her daughter’s intuition was so sharp.
‘But I’m no threat to you, to what you want to achieve.’
‘You may not be able to read my thoughts, but I can hear yours, Alys. Clanging loudly! You want Ake Bluefinn on the throne, and if not him, Reinar Vilander, and you’ll do whatever you can to help them. To help Thenor too. So we are enemies, despite our blood ties, and you are very much a threat to me and all I’ve worked so hard to achieve.’
Alys shook her head. ‘Whatever you can hear, whatever you think of me, surely you know that we’re not equals? What threat could I be even if I wanted to stop you?’ She felt a sense of panic, desperate not to lose her daughter again.
Lotta came running up to her, jiggling on the spot.
‘You need the latrines?’
Lotta nodded, and standing, Alys took her hand.
Mirella stood, taking Lotta’s other hand. ‘I’ll take her. You stay here with Magnus.’ And not waiting for Alys’ permission, Mirella dragged a surprised looking Lotta away.
Magnus scowled after them, slipping his hand into his mother’s. ‘Can we go? I want to go.’ He kept glancing back at the hall doors, wondering if his father was going to come and steal them away again.
And realising it, Alys turned to the doors herself. ‘Go?’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t know, Magnus. I honestly don’t know.’
Arnon headed away from the tavern, not nearly as drunk as he wanted to be. He had died, been brought back to life by the Goddess of Magic, led back to his family, and then what?
Cast aside?
Shaking his head, he didn’t understand what the point of it had been.
And he didn’t know what to do now.
Borr walked beside him down to the piers. The Freeze was coming, and he’d decided to winter in Orvala, so he needed to organise a shed for his ship. Ebben walked behind them, the rest of the crew remaining back in the tavern where they’d paid for some female company. ‘What will you do?’ he wondered. ‘Stay?’
