by A. E. Rayne
Jonas brought back an armload of rocks, quickly arranging them in a circle. When that was done, he rolled a few bigger rocks and boulders into place, an old log too. And tinderbox open, he glanced at the trees, eager to see the firewood gatherers return.
Eddeth poked through the snow with her staff, looking for anything to eat. She wanted the poor horses to eat something, too, knowing that there was little left in the small feed sacks they’d brought along. Eventually, she found a juniper tree, and gleefully tugging her horse forward, she encouraged the other horses to follow, eyes up, searching for berries. The horses appeared exhausted, but, sniffing the air, a few of them ambled over.
‘We’ll have to tie them securely tonight,’ Vik sighed, clearing snow off a boulder. ‘I don’t want to wake up without Frostbite.’
Eddeth sniggered. ‘Well, I don’t want to wake up with frostbite!’
Stina smiled as she sat down beside Vik, pleased to see Aldo emerge through the trees, carrying enough branches in his arms to start a fire. He dropped his load by the stone circle as Jonas bent over a little pile of tinder and moss, hoping the rain wouldn’t dampen their urgent need for flames.
They all looked expectantly at Jonas, holding their breaths, shoulders hunched around aching ears, curling over, desperate for some warmth.
Stina’s teeth were chattering so loudly that she worried she’d break one. She wanted to move, to help someone do something, but it was simply too cold. ‘You did so w-w-well today, Eddeth,’ she said. ‘How did you know what to d-d-do? How did you know it would work?’
More than one head turned Eddeth’s way.
Eddeth nodded, unable to stop. ‘No idea!’ She tapped her nodding head. ‘Think there’s more stored in here than I ever realised! Like an old chest stuffed full over the years. It’s always a surprise to realise what you put away in it!’
Vik’s smile was a pained one. His body stung with claw marks, as did Ludo’s, he knew, judging by the similar look on his face. ‘Well, the gods have spoken, haven’t they? They don’t want us going back for Sigurd.’ He sensed Ludo scowling, but he kept going. ‘They’ve got a plan, Ludo, and they know more than us. Never forget that. The gods know more than us.’
Eddeth was still nodding, more vigorously now, forgetting all about her quest for berries. But seeing what she’d discovered, Ollo joined her, picking some for himself. ‘Oh yes, the will of the gods is like a strong current, so there’s no point turning around, trying to swim against it. You saw those wolves!’ She gripped her staff with some affection now, seeing the tiny symbol she’d hastily carved into it, deciding to tidy it up a bit. And to add more. Mind jumping, she thought of all the symbols she could use. ‘Those wolves warned us away!’
‘But who sent them?’ Ludo wondered, taking a seat as Jonas scraped sparks into the tinder. He held his breath, shivering, longing it to catch. ‘Because if it was the gods, they were trying to kill us!’
‘Though they didn’t, so we must keep heading north,’ Vik said. ‘Wherever we are, we just have to keep heading north. Find our way to Orvala. Save Alys and the children. And then we’ll come back for Sigurd.’ It felt wrong to say, for he never wanted to leave a man behind. Not a Vilander; Stellan’s boy. But there was no clearer sign than those wolves.
They were magical.
Sent by the gods.
Ollo returned with a handful of juniper berries. ‘Who’s hungry? I say we eat these. Forget hunting, I’m too cold!’
And for once, no one argued with Ollo Narp.
30
Reinar had barely spoken all day.
They had eaten a quick supper of cold meats and salt fish, with a few slices of cheese. It hadn’t been much, though no one had noticed. There was a growing sense of unease on the ship, wondering what their lord was up to.
Reinar felt it, and he realised that he couldn’t keep everything hidden forever, for who would trust him then?
‘I’m worried about you,’ Elin whispered. They had moved away from Bjarni and Bolli, who were standing side by side, muttering to each other. The rest of the crew lined the gunwales, gossiping about their lord and his dreams, running their eyes over Ilene, who was giving her attention to the shy Nels Froder; his face shining, even redder than usual. ‘You’ve barely spoken to anyone. I wouldn’t expect you to talk to me, not about what’s going on with the men, but you’re not talking to anyone.’
‘It’s hard to talk about some things. Not everything makes sense at first, and not everyone can know all of it.’
‘Not even me?’
Reinar slipped an arm around Elin’s waist, wishing he had command of his feelings, but they blew away from him like clouds. And those clouds hovered out of reach, taunting him, making it impossible to think clearly. ‘When I can, I’ll tell you everything, I promise, but right now, I can’t. It’s dangerous. You just have to trust me.’
Elin wanted to know every secret he had, but she nodded, trying to be patient.
The darkness made them feel almost alone for a moment, and tipping back her head, Elin sought Reinar’s lips. He bent down, kissing her with guilt in his eyes. She saw that for a brief moment before he closed them. And closing her own, she sought to remind her husband of everything he’d once wanted, and the woman he had given his heart to.
Before that dreamer had come along and stolen it away.
Magnus and Lotta chased Puddle down the corridor towards the stairs. They were having fun with him, almost happy to share, and Alys smiled as she walked behind them with Mirella, who had been distracted throughout the meal, and appeared even more so now. ‘I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.’
Mirella blinked, turning to her daughter. She had been so lost in her worries that she was almost surprised to see her there. She could hear the children laughing as they ran up and down the stairs, and realising where she was, Mirella swallowed. ‘Your help as a dreamer is welcome, of course, but there is no need for you to know everything.’
‘Yet something’s wrong.’
That was true, and Mirella frowned. ‘You sense that? Yourself?’
‘I do. Though perhaps I’m just disturbed by everything that’s happened? By being here... with you. And Arnon.’
‘He won’t hurt you,’ Mirella promised. ‘I won’t let him.’
Alys stopped, turning to her. ‘But how? If you can stop a cruel man hurting his wife, why didn’t you stop my father?’
Mirella stiffened, moving past her daughter, continuing down the corridor. ‘I must dream, and so must you. Once I have what I want, you’ll be free to go, so the quicker we both help Tarl Brava onto the throne, the quicker you’ll be able to take your children and leave.’
‘But that will take months. Years!’
Mirella ignored her fears that Alys might be right.
‘And why would I want to help you kill a king? Murder all his loyal men? I’m not that person. I’ll never be that person!’
Stopping, Mirella turned back to her, hearing a sudden cry in the distance. ‘How do you think Ake Bluefinn took the throne in the first place? That he knocked on Stornas’ gates and asked Jorek Vettel to pack his chests and leave? Are you that naive, Alys? Do you think great change happens without death? Without chaos and killing and sacrifice?’
Her mother’s words ringing in her ears, Alys hurried past her, seeing Magnus return with a guilty look on his face.
‘Lotta fell over.’
Alys wasn’t surprised, grabbing his hand. ‘You didn’t push her, did you?’
‘No!’ Magnus looked indignant. ‘She just tripped. She’s always running too fast, trying to beat me. But she can’t. Can’t she see? I’m bigger than her! Stronger! I’ll always beat her. Can’t she see?’
Alys glanced over her shoulder, staring at her mother before turning back around. ‘Doesn’t mean she shouldn’t try, Magnus. It doesn’t mean she shouldn’t try.’
The taste of blood was strong.
Ulrick frowned, swilling ale around his mouth, spitting it out
.
Tarl laughed. ‘You don’t like my ale?’
Ulrick smiled, not wanting to offend. ‘Blood, my lord. Still in my mouth.’
‘Though what is the taste of blood but the reminder of life and death, and how we men have the power to make both. With our seed! With our swords! We plough the land with swords, fertilising it with the blood of the dead, sowing our seed with all those women left behind. Imagine how many more Bravas will soon be running around Alekka!’ He slapped Alvear on the back, laughing loudly.
Alvear had blood splattered over his face, dried in wrinkles and scars, clumped in his black beard. Once Ulrick would have barely noticed. He would have sat there and joined in the laughter with little care for the devastation he’d left behind, but he thought of Lotta and Bergit, and he remembered what Tarl and his men had done to the village. The terrified screams of the women and children rang in his ears, and he felt more unsettled with his choices than he could remember.
As though he’d lost sight of himself and who he wanted to be.
Or perhaps he’d merely discovered the truth about who he’d been all along?
‘You’re useful with a sword, Ulrick,’ Tarl said, narrowing his eyes on the new man. ‘I saw that today. Mirella was right, you’ll be an asset to me. And maybe with more than a sword? She seems to think I need someone to help me negotiate with Gudrum.’ He laughed again, eyes on a pretty servant who slipped around the fires with jugs of ale in her hands. She looked like Solveigh, he thought, with the same high cheekbones and dark-brown hair, and he stood, his mind no longer on Gudrum. ‘Though I’m sure we can fit in a little fun before then!’
Ulrick followed Tarl’s gaze to the young servant, who looked slightly fearful of the strapping lord. She froze like a stunned bird, blinking rapidly, not sure how to escape, but as Tarl approached her, she realised that there was no escape at all, and shoulders slumping, she tried to smile.
‘Do you think we should negotiate?’ Alvear wondered, leaning forward. He was a serious man with deep crevices carved between thick eyebrows, the flames of the fire throwing them into even sharper relief. ‘Tarl’s not a man to make peace. Not a man to make friends either. His father taught him that. Kill and crush. Defeat and conquer. The dreamer might have some idea of how she wants things to go, but I’m not sure Tarl really cares what she thinks. Not in the end. Not when he has a sword in his hand and an enemy waiting across a field.’
Ulrick was surprised. ‘You think he’ll go against Mirella?’
Alvear laughed. ‘She’s a woman, not a lord! He’s free to make up his own mind. He doesn’t need her telling him what to do. Nor do I. Or you. Know that.’ And Alvear’s face changed. ‘Best you have a think about whose side you want to be on, friend. Think it through. Tarl won’t tolerate even a hint of disloyalty.’
Ulrick nodded, and though he didn’t particularly like or trust the man, he appreciated his honesty. Tarl Brava had conquered his neighbours, expanded his territory, garnered support unlike anything Ulrick had ever seen. But to choose the wrong path now and ignore his dreamer would be to spit in the eyes of the gods themselves.
He thought of Mirella, who had tricked him into stealing Lotta, and though he felt angry at her, he knew her to be a woman of great wisdom. So if she saw that Tarl needed allies to conquer his enemies, Ulrick was going to have to get his lord to realise that she was right.
Sigurd was grateful for the meat, which tasted like boar. He licked the bones clean, wanting more. He’d been shaking with hunger, though perhaps it was just the bitter cold? He needed more meat on his bones, though. Something to help insulate him against the winter chill. No one was offering him a fur or a blanket, and the cloak he’d taken from the farmstead was thin.
Men gathered around fires, eyes full of expectation, talking loudly about leaving in the morning.
Sigurd didn’t know where they were or where they were going. ‘How will my brother know what’s happened? Or where to find me?’ he wondered, eyes on Gudrum, who sat opposite him next to Raf, wrapping his fur cloak around them both. Raf was so small that she easily fitted underneath it, just her big blue eyes poking out in the darkness. ‘If we leave, how will he know?’
Gudrum smiled, tossing a bone into the flames. ‘You let me worry about your brother. You don’t think I want my gold?’ He winked at Raf, who lifted her face to him with a smile before slipping back beneath the cloak. ‘And nobody has more gold than your brother! So don’t you worry now, Raf’s seen how it will go. She’s seen your brother coming. She’s seen all his gold.’
Sigurd frowned, not wanting to reveal that their assumptions were misplaced. Reinar didn’t have enough gold to melt down and make into a goblet.
Raf blinked at him, and he shifted his eyes quickly, remembering kissing her.
He wanted to kiss her again.
But he didn’t want Gudrum knowing that.
Something about the girl had stirred a deep longing inside him, and despite conflicting feelings of guilt over Tulia, he wanted to feel her lips on his again.
‘What about a song?’ Gudrum bellowed, pulling his cloak away from Raf, who didn’t look pleased by the sudden absence of warmth. ‘Go on, girl. We’ve a long march ahead of us come morning, so we could all do with something to warm us up!’
Raf liked being with Gudrum because he kept her safe and he valued her dreams, but she hated him presenting her to his men like some trinket. Like a chained bear he poked with a stick, trying to make it dance. But nodding and shivering, she stepped towards the flames as the conversations hushed around her. Raf had a voice like honey, and there were few things more pleasing after a cold day than listening to her songs while they drank their ale and thought of their homes and their hearths and the women who waited for them.
While everyone’s attention was on Raf, Sigurd took the opportunity to grab another bone. He sat back quickly, not wanting to draw anyone’s eyes, though his own were quickly on the pretty girl as she started to sing.
Her voice was breathy, full of emotion, and he almost forgot about the bone in his hand.
I’m the heart of the moon and the eye of the sea,
I will follow my love, wherever he be.
I will seek him in darkness and bathe him in light,
I’m the stars in the sky, that will watch him all night.
I am mist like a blanket and wind like a kiss,
I’m the rain, cold with tears, for the love that I miss...
For all that Raf hated to perform, the song drew her into its magic, and she closed her eyes, lost in the words as she wove them into a heartbreaking melody that had her cheeks wet with tears. She saw her own life flashing before her eyes, just shades of colour, glimpses of faces. She didn’t know who anyone was.
She didn’t know who she was.
And when she opened her eyes, they rested on Sigurd Vilander, who was staring at her, mouth ajar.
And she smiled.
Stina was snuffling on one side of her, Aldo mumbling on the other, and somewhere in the distance, it sounded like a cave full of bears was snoring. Though after sitting up to investigate, Eddeth discovered that it was only Ollo Narp.
She wondered how anyone could sleep.
She certainly couldn’t, and yet she was the one person who needed sleep above all others. Smiling as she closed her eyes, Eddeth thought of Alys, who she missed desperately. She hoped that wherever she was, she was warmer than they were. Safer than they were too.
Eddeth blinked, eyes on the fire, which appeared to be going out, the slumped figure of Ludo Moller sitting guard, not watching it at all. But without those flames, they would freeze to death. So, dragging her fur around her shoulders, Eddeth creaked to her feet, walking around the sleeping bodies towards Ludo.
Who jumped as she tapped his shoulder. ‘I... what?’ And lashing out with an arm, he knocked Eddeth over. Eyes open now, he hurried to his feet, pulling her up. ‘Sorry.’
Eddeth grinned, though she’d hit her head on something hard, and
she rubbed it as she bent down, picking up her fur. ‘Fire’s going out.’
Ludo spun around, feeling even worse as he hurried to add another log. And grabbing a long stick, he stirred the embers. ‘Sorry. Sorry, Eddeth.’
She smiled, sitting down beside him. ‘You’re worried about Sigurd, I know. Tired too, by the look of things!’
He shrugged. ‘I think we’re all tired. The cold wears you down, especially when you’re not prepared for it. Not properly. I don’t think I’ve gotten truly warm since I pulled myself out of the sea.’ And remembering the icy embrace of that deep and dark water, Ludo shivered, watching the flames struggle back to life.
‘You needn’t worry about Sigurd,’ Eddeth smiled. ‘I saw him in my dreams.’
‘You did?’ Ludo turned to her. ‘Is he alright?’
‘I would say so,’ Eddeth chortled. ‘It wasn’t quite what I was expecting!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Kissing a woman, he was! She didn’t seem to be complaining either. Pretty little thing. Big blue eyes. Just like Sigurd’s.’
Ludo was stunned. ‘But when was this? Maybe it wasn’t a vision of the future? It doesn’t sound right.’
Eddeth frowned, wondering if it was possible for her dreams to be going in the wrong direction. ‘Well, he... I...’ She closed her eyes, worried now, trying to see if anything more came to mind.
Ludo watched her, one eye on the flames.
‘I see the girl. She’s singing!’ That surprised Eddeth, and she opened her eyes. ‘Very good voice, she has. My first husband liked to sing, you know, especially after he’d drunk a few jugs of ale. Oh, what a voice he had. Brought a tear to your eye!’ Ludo nudged her, and Eddeth nodded, closing her eyes, thrilled to see Sigurd sitting there, watching the singing girl. Trying to focus, Eddeth forced herself to see who else was there. She saw groups of men huddled around fires, gathered outside tents, sitting on boulders and logs, all of them watching the girl with the blue eyes.
