by A. E. Rayne
Bolli nodded, stomach rumbling. ‘I do, I do, now hurry before that Berger Eivin gets the best place by the fire!’
Alys was worried about keeping the children in the hall where so many strange men were lurching around, drunk and loud, sloshing ale onto the floor, groping the servants, shoving each other. It was hard to tell how things would go, though she knew from experience that one wrong word or look could quickly lead to trouble.
Lotta’s puppy started growling, and after a few sharp-eyed glares from Gudrum’s warriors, Alys ushered the children out of the hall.
Lotta had given Puddle to her brother to hold, worried by the big, loud men, and Magnus carried him protectively against his chest, shielding him with his arms, remembering how his father had killed the puppy he’d befriended years before.
‘It’s best if you stay in the cottage for now,’ Alys said as they hurried down the steps into the dark afternoon. ‘Magnus, you’ll look after your sister, keep her safe.’
Magnus nodded, though Lotta appeared unimpressed by the idea.
Alys squeezed her hand. ‘How will we escape if we get hurt? And how will you keep that puppy safe, Lotta, if something happens to you?’ That got through, she could see, watching her daughter’s bottom lip wobble.
‘Ulrick’s coming!’ Lotta called up to her mother.
‘Ulrick?’ Magnus looked cross. ‘Why do you care about him?’
‘I’m just telling Mama that Ulrick’s coming!’
‘Is he?’ Alys wondered distractedly. ‘With Tarl Brava?’
Lotta nodded. ‘When I was with Mirella, helping her, I held her hand, and I saw him riding. He was coming here.’
Alys blinked in surprise.
‘We can’t trust Mirella,’ Magnus insisted as the rain came down in icy sheets.
‘Oooohhhh! Hurry!’ Lotta squealed, pulling her mother along.
Alys ran beside her, Magnus trying to keep up, though the puppy was frightened by the rain, and he wriggled up to Magnus’ shoulder, trying to escape. ‘No, we can’t trust anyone, except Sigurd,’ she decided with a smile, feeling a lift that he was here. In a sea of strangers and danger, there was comfort in knowing that Sigurd Vilander was nearby.
If only she could think of how to set them all free.
‘Down here!’ she yelled as Lotta ran past the alley. ‘Lotta!’
‘Lotta!’ Magnus called, shaking his wet head.
And smiling at her son, happy for just one moment to all be together again, Alys hurried to catch her disappearing daughter.
Ilmar took Sigurd back to his chamber, sniffing loudly as he chained him to the bed.
‘What’s this for?’ Sigurd grumbled in surprise. ‘Why are you keeping these on? How can I do anything in here?’
‘What does a prisoner like you need to do?’ Ilmar wondered sharply, leaving Sigurd on the bed as he added two logs to the spluttering fire. ‘I’m sure you can still scratch your arse if you need to.’
‘But I can’t go anywhere!’ Sigurd protested. ‘There are no windows. The door’s locked!’
‘Mmmm, maybe, but if you have a visitor? Wouldn’t want you to get into trouble now, would we?’ Ilmar turned around, no expression in his black eyes, but Sigurd saw his meaning with perfect clarity. ‘Now, perhaps Gudrum’s moved on, getting married to that pretty lady like he is? Perhaps he doesn’t give a shit about Raf anymore, but let’s just be safe, shall we? The girl’s been good to him. Loyal. But if Gudrum finds out...’ Ilmar walked slowly to the door. ‘I don’t blame you, though. She’s a beauty. What I wouldn’t give to...’ Words hanging, he reached for the door handle. ‘She’s a good girl, though, so I won’t say anything.’ He twisted around, eyeing Sigurd. ‘Not for you, but Raf’s been through enough.’ And opening the door, he disappeared into the corridor.
Sigurd watched the door close, hearing the lock turn with a click, and he slumped down onto the bed, heart thumping.
‘Little Raf,’ Gudrum purred, holding her in his arms. ‘My sweet little dreamer.’
Raf couldn’t decide how she felt about him anymore, but Gudrum’s arms had always made her feel safe, and she burrowed into them.
‘What do you think of Tarl Brava’s dreamer, then? Mirella? What does she want?’
Raf stepped back, tilting her head. ‘She seems to have her own plans. They’re not yours.’
Gudrum agreed. ‘She’s experienced, though. Perhaps she can teach you how to be a proper dreamer?’
Raf was quickly insulted, and she stumbled, tripping over her long fur cloak. Yanking it out from under her boots, she looked up at him with a scowl. ‘What? Teach me? But I beat her! She’s the prisoner, not me!’
Raf often sounded like a child, though it was less endearing than it had once been, and Gudrum’s attention quickly wandered to the beautiful Solveigh, who had barely spoken to him. He imagined that she had a soft, melodious voice. And closing his eyes, he could almost hear her singing beside him, their many sons playing at their feet.
Gudrum shook his head, not quite believing that he was reaching the end of his long journey. Only a few more steps, he told himself.
Just a few more.
Raf hit him. ‘What are you thinking about her for? We were talking about the dreamer!’
Gudrum laughed, grabbing her small fists, not minding her anger. ‘And here was I thinking you’d fallen in love with Sigurd Vilander.’ He drew Raf close, kissing her. ‘You’re that jealous? Of my new woman? Ha! But what’s to stop you being in my bed? What’s to stop you being by my side? Nothing that I can see.’ And leaning back, he grinned. ‘You don’t think a lord can have two women? Two dreamers? I think a lord with two dreamers will be more powerful than any other.’
Raf kissed him back, relieved that he still wanted her. She thought of Sigurd, feeling torn. But Gudrum was family. He was her home.
She needed him.
Didn’t she?
Alys wanted Arnon to go away, though it was his cottage, and she didn’t want to make a fuss.
He’d brought in an armload of wood and lit a fire, and was now busy grumbling as he sorted the beds into a more practical solution while she cooked a stew. It was a watery sort of stew because there was little to find, and Alys had no love of cooking.
Lotta stood beside her with a judgemental eye, sucking the wooden spoon. ‘Tastes like mud.’
‘Lotta!’ Magnus scolded. ‘Don’t say that.’
Alys took the spoon, and scooping up another helping of stew, she handed it to Magnus. ‘What do you think?’
He took a big slurp, immediately wrinkling his nose. ‘Tastes like mud. Lotta’s right.’
‘Really?’ Alys looked disappointed, her eyes sweeping the solitary kitchen shelf, looking for a dried herb or two. She thought of Eddeth and smiled, sensing that her friends were getting closer. She saw her grandfather looking miserable in the snow, talking to Vik; Stina and Ludo behind them. And just knowing that they were getting closer had her desperate to get some sleep. She hadn’t dreamed in days, and she needed to find a way out of this mess for them all.
Arnon handed her his cup of ale. ‘Add this. Might help.’
It was horrible to be around him. He was a constant reminder of a life Alys wanted no part of anymore. Yet if she was to work on finding an escape, she needed him to help with the children. She didn’t want Mirella around either of them. Especially not Lotta.
‘That puppy needs to go outside,’ Arnon grumbled, seeing Puddle squatting under the table. ‘Quick, Lotta! I don’t want to sleep in a latrine!’
Lotta flinched, remembering the sound of that angry voice, and she hurried to scoop up the puppy, who continued to piss all over the floor as she ran outside with him.
‘I’ll clean it up,’ Magnus offered as his father turned his attention to his mother. His shoulders tightened, worrying about what might happen.
‘No, leave it, Magnus,’ Alys ordered. ‘Go outside with your sister. I want to talk to your father.’
Arnon stood, hearing
her tone, eyeing his wife with interest as the door shut. ‘What? You want to take out your sword again? Cut me to pieces?’
‘Do you think I’d kill my own children’s father? For what?’
‘I think you’re not the woman I married!’
‘No, I’m not. That woman believed in you. You broke that woman, so I’m not the same. I’m different. Different then, different now.’ Alys felt odd, not sure what she wanted. Arnon was a cruel, selfish bastard, but she had bigger problems than exacting any revenge on him now.
It would come, she knew.
It would come, but while Gudrum sat in Orvala’s hall planning to marry Solveigh and Tarl Brava was riding back to the city, they weren’t safe.
Jonas and Vik were getting closer.
Sigurd was a prisoner.
And Reinar was on his way.
V
The Feast
43
It was getting colder.
‘It’s getting colder!’ Ollo wailed. ‘How is that possible? How?’ He glanced up at the dark clouds sinking above their heads as though he was bellowing at Ulfinnur himself. Though that fickle god had no time for one complaining Alekkan, he was sure.
Stina smiled, rolling over to face Ludo, who was trying to get comfortable, though every time he lay down, he felt another stone under his fur, and he was on his hands and knees again, shuffling around. ‘I keep thinking about Ottby,’ she sighed, wondering why that was true.
‘Can’t imagine you’d want to go back there,’ he said sadly, turning around to sit on his fur. ‘Not after Torvig.’
Stina looked down, feeling embarrassed. Ludo reached for her hand, then stopped himself, remembering all those times Stina had flinched from his touch. ‘We’re not all like Torvig. In fact, none of us are like Torvig.’
Stina wasn’t so sure.
‘What?’
‘Reinar’s wife. Elin.’ Stina lowered her voice, though Jonas and Vik were having a loud argument by the fire, and Eddeth and Aldo were still out hunting. The rest of the crew were organising their beds, muttering away to each other, complaining about the cold just as much as Ollo. ‘She doesn’t like me.’
‘No?’ Ludo had seen Elin’s odd looks himself, but he hadn’t read much into it.
‘She seems to think I made it all up... what happened. With Torvig.’
‘She said that?’
‘She implied it. With Ilene’s help.’
‘Hmmm, well, listening to Ilene doesn’t seem like the best thing to do.’
‘No, but I don’t think I’d ever be welcome in Ottby. Not with Elin there. Nor would Alys, come to think of it, so I doubt you’ll see us there again.’
‘I’m sorry to hear it.’ And he was. He dropped his head, picking his fingernails. ‘Reinar will be too.’
Stina smiled. ‘Though it’s for the best, isn’t it? Reinar has a wife. No matter what she thought when she ran away, Elin’s back now. Back with him. It’s best that Alys doesn’t see him again. Better for both of them.’
Ludo agreed, though it left him feeling confused. ‘Some things just aren’t meant to be, I suppose,’ he murmured, bringing his hands back to his lap, shifting his weight onto his left side.
Feeling a stone.
Alys’ argument with Arnon had ended in a truce of sorts, or at least an unspoken understanding that they would keep to themselves, which was a relief, Alys thought, remembering poor Solveigh; trying not to imagine what Gudrum was doing to her.
She sighed wearily, feeling Lotta twisting on her right side. Magnus was sleeping on the floor, and Alys’ only real companion was the puppy, who was surprisingly warm. She wished he was bigger as she wanted to lie him over her feet to warm them up. The fire had burned down to embers, and she regretted the loss of its warmth, though she didn’t want to wake anyone by creaking around the cottage, bringing it back to life. Certainly not Arnon, who was breathing heavily on the other side of the cottage all alone.
As he should be, Alys thought with a smile, feeling an odd sort of freedom.
Wondering if it could be true, imprisoned as she was.
Ragnahild had shown her symbols to lock Mirella out of her mind, and while Arnon had been out collecting the wood, she’d taken small bits of kindling, quickly carving symbols, giving one to each of the children. She hadn’t wanted Arnon to know what she was doing. He was Alari’s toy, and she didn’t know whether that goddess was going into his dreams, stirring up even more trouble. But it was better to keep Arnon on the outside.
Puddle wriggled, stretching out beside her waist, and Alys rolled over to cuddle him, thinking of Winter. Warm and purring Winter.
Her friend in Ottby.
And seeing images of Ottby, she found herself falling asleep.
Greppa had been given his own chamber, not wanting to sleep in the hall with all those brutish men. Bergit had retreated to sleep with the servants, which had disappointed her, though she didn’t want to stay in that shed behind the tavern all on her own.
Leaving Mirella in total silence.
Alone with her problems.
And there were many.
She had worked hard to restore her sight, creating a new symbol bowl, and now she could see Tarl – actually see him – with his battered face and dark-eyed scowl. His presence comforted her, and seeing that Ulrick was with him, never leaving his side, she knew that he was in safe hands.
Reinar Vilander was coming with his army too.
And her father.
Mirella watched the water ripple in the bowl.
Her father.
She could see his face, so much more weathered than when she’d last seen him in the flesh all those years ago.
Jonas and his friends were a problem she didn’t need.
Though old family grievances were hardly her most pressing concern.
Gudrum’s dreamer was dangerous, for though she had locked the girl out of her mind, she was most certainly working with Alari. And if Mirella was going to get Tarl back into the city, she was going to have to do something about the little elf named Raf.
So taking a deep breath, Mirella stilled her mind, searching the darkness.
Flames lit up the night sky, and Alys blinked, wondering where she was.
Then she recognised Ottby’s tall inner wall, and she felt confused.
What was she seeing?
The attack by the Vettels?
She turned around, trying to find a familiar face or a sense of time. She wasn’t sure. She saw Bjarni, blonde hair flapping as he ran through the square. ‘I need more men on the bridge wall! The bridge wall!’ he roared, voice breaking. His eyes moved constantly as he ran towards Alys, his attention drifting to the hall. ‘Hurry!’
Alys turned, watching him.
The bridge wall?
She started walking, trying to understand the dream.
Snow was in the air. She tasted it on her tongue as she tipped back her head, eyes on the sky again.
What was she seeing?
Dropping her head, she saw Winter sitting on the ground, staring up at her. And wrapping himself around Alys’ legs, he suddenly bounded away, heading for the hall.
Remembering how important it was to always follow that white cat, Alys turned after him, hurrying to the steps, through the open doors. She felt a sense of warmth, remembering the place with a wistful longing. And then she saw Elin Vilander, and she frowned.
This wasn’t a memory.
And wanting to leave, Alys turned away.
‘Help! Please! Help!’ Agnette ran into the hall from the bedchambers, screaming. ‘Help me!’
Alys spun back in horror, seeing the fear in Agnette’s eyes.
Elin hurried to Agnette’s side, following her to the bedchambers.
Alys wanted to go with them, but she was suddenly turning in the opposite direction as an old man came rushing into the hall, his face contorted in pain.
‘Where’s Bjarni?’ he panted, grabbing a table, leaning on it heavily. ‘The low gates are un
der attack!’
‘He’s gone to secure the bridge!’ another voice shouted. ‘The bridge gates are under attack!’
And then Agnette’s cries rose over them all.
‘No, no! Please! Noooo!’
The farmer and his three sons had been more accommodating than Reinar had anticipated, feeding them what they could, helping them with firewood and bedding. Though confronted with an army at their door, there was little in the way of true comfort to offer.
Still, Reinar paid them with gold to show his gratitude.
They’d offered the Lord of Ottby a bed inside the longhouse, but Reinar didn’t plan to sleep in comfort while his men froze, so he’d headed back outside, teeth chattering violently, unable to sleep at all. And realising that he was only getting colder by lying still, he decided to go for a walk.
Ilene had been in the trees, relieving herself, and she noisily made her way back to bed, nearly falling over.
‘You alright?’ Reinar asked, wondering if she was drunk. She giggled but didn’t reply as she stumbled away, and he guessed she was, eventually hearing Berger grunting with happiness.
Shaking his head, Reinar moved past the bodies scattered around the snow, feeling the need to head into the trees himself.
Arriving in a tiny clearing, commanded by a tall standing stone, he saw Thenor waiting for him.
‘There is more trouble than you can imagine, Reinar, so do not hesitate in Orvala. Do not doubt yourself. And never think for one moment that you’re alone.’
Reinar blinked. ‘What trouble?’
But Thenor was gone, knowing that Alari would find him if he lingered too long, leaving Reinar to spin around in circles, wondering if he would come back.
