by A. E. Rayne
Solveigh flinched, trying to squirm away from Gudrum’s lips, though he held her hand firmly, and eventually, she relented, knowing that there was no point in trying to resist. She saw Alys watching her with sympathy in her eyes, and she dropped her head, feeling embarrassed.
There was nothing Alys could do. Nothing anyone could do.
Not now.
Alys turned back to Lotta, who was having trouble with her pickled eel. She had skewered it on the end of her knife and was now trying to fit the whole thing into her mouth. ‘Use your fingers, Lotta,’ Alys said, taking the knife out of her daughter’s hand. ‘Here.’ And leaning over, she cut the eel into smaller pieces.
‘It smells bad,’ Lotta protested, missing Puddle, who’d been locked away in her bedchamber at Mirella’s insistence.
‘Tastes worse,’ Magnus added.
Alys tried to shush them both, glancing at Bergit, who had a sharp look in her eyes, annoyed with the complaining children. Alys glared at her until she looked away, knowing that Bergit’s husband had stolen Magnus and Lotta. Yet there were bigger problems before her and more dangerous enemies to fear. It made no sense to start anything with Bergit Dyre.
‘Be grateful you’ve got something to eat,’ Bergit muttered, unable to hold her tongue. ‘Some children are out in the street with no parents tonight, wondering where their next meal is coming from. Wondering who will care for them now.’
That had Magnus and Lotta feeling suitably guilty.
‘But what will happen to them?’ Lotta’s eyes were full of concern. ‘The children? What will they do?’
Bergit sighed. ‘Learn how to care for themselves? Freeze to death? I don’t know.’
‘We should go and see them,’ Lotta decided. ‘Go and bring them into the hall. There’s so much food in here. They can have mine!’ She pushed her plate away, not liking it at all.
Alys pushed it back. ‘We’ll go outside and see them when you eat that. Go on. Whether you like it or not, we don’t know what’s around the next corner, do we?’ Dropping her head down to her daughter’s ear, she whispered. ‘We don’t know where we’ll end up next, and a full belly is always useful. If you want this to work,’ and she tapped Lotta’s head. ‘You need something inside of you.’
Scowling, Lotta relented, chewing a piece of slimy eel.
Full of guilt for all the freezing orphans, Magnus ate the remainder of his meal with a small show of enthusiasm, though it still tasted terrible. ‘What about Solveigh?’ he asked, watching Gudrum groping the poor woman. ‘What will happen to her?’
‘Well, Solveigh’s an unfortunate case,’ Bergit said, watching the sad Lady of Orvala herself. ‘Though not an uncommon one. Not every woman is as lucky as me, having a good man for a husband.’
Everyone eyed Bergit sharply.
‘Well, whatever you might think, my Ulrick’s always been good to me. He’d do anything for me, he would. Anything at all! If he’s out there somewhere, still alive, you can be sure he’s on his way back here.’ Tears flooded her eyes, quickly spilling down her cheeks.
Lotta reached for her hand, squeezing it. ‘I’ve seen him, Bergit,’ she whispered. ‘And he is.’
Eddeth walked until she couldn’t hear the chatter from the fire or the crackle of the flames, though she could still smell the smoke. It was strong in her nostrils, reminding her of Slussfall. The only noise she could hear was the squeak of the snow beneath her boots and her wheezing breaths as she tried to find the right place to stop.
Thenor was a forest god, the forest god, though he had never come to her. But for some reason, Eddeth kept feeling his presence, expecting to see him. Alys had described him, and he sounded just as she’d always imagined. Though the thought of actually meeting him had her on edge, eyes darting through the darkened alleys of trees.
Not here, she decided, tugging her fur closer to her trembling body, pulling it over her cold face until she could barely see.
It didn’t feel right.
And Eddeth kept moving, further into the trees.
Mirella had excused herself from the hall early, taking Raf back to her chamber, wanting to solidify their fledgling relationship. Raf’s attachment to Gudrum was a powerful one, Mirella could see – complex but intense – and she knew that if not properly focused, the dreamer would become a real problem at just the wrong moment.
They looked through Mirella’s precious red book, Raf not understanding any of the spells. She couldn’t read the oddly formed words, but she ran her fingers over the symbols, recognising a few.
‘You’re a skilled dreamer, Raf,’ Mirella told her. ‘To have done so much to help Gudrum with no training? I’ve never met anyone with so much raw power. To have attracted Alari herself?’ Mirella shook her head in amazement.
Raf couldn’t tell if it was all a game. Mirella sounded genuine, her eyes sparkling with interest, but Raf couldn’t read her thoughts, which unsettled her. ‘I don’t know why she chose me,’ she admitted quietly. ‘I don’t know why she saw me at all.’
‘Because of Gudrum, I suspect. The gods choose Alekka’s kings. I had thought that they supported Tarl Brava’s claim to the throne, but I was plainly wrong.’
‘Yet he lives,’ Raf said, eyes darting to the door. ‘You’ve seen that, haven’t you?’
Mirella looked as surprised as she felt, wondering if the girl had told Gudrum. ‘You think Tarl lives? But Alari shielded him from me. I haven’t been able to get through to him. I thought he was dead. You told Gudrum he was dead!’
‘Get through to him?’ Raf didn’t understand. She’d seen Tarl Brava on his horse, fearing that he was on his way back to Orvala, though she didn’t know how to tell Gudrum. And thinking of Sigurd, she didn’t know if she wanted to.
Mirella smiled. ‘Oh, there is so much to teach you, isn’t there? So much I can help you with. Yes, once you know more, you’ll be able to reach out to Gudrum when you’re not with him. To help him from afar. Talk to him. Enter his dreams too.’
Raf looked amazed. ‘You know how to do that?’
She really was a child, Mirella thought, squeezing Raf’s dirty hand. ‘Yes, and so much more. I was trained in a great temple. A temple of dreamers and elders. It was exquisite.’ Mirella’s eyes glazed over as she remembered. ‘There are none here like it, though. None so majestic. Though the brothers have a temple of sorts on the Island. So much knowledge is stored there, and of course, the brothers themselves are the greatest source of knowledge in all of Alekka. Once the Thaw comes, we can take a ship and go together, with Greppa.’
‘He’s a strange man.’
Mirella laughed. ‘He is, though Eutresia speaks through him, so don’t discount him for his oddities. He is both wise and powerful indeed.’
Raf didn’t care. She didn’t like Greppa. She didn’t like Mirella either.
She liked Sigurd, the children, and Puddle.
She didn’t know how she felt about Gudrum anymore.
Mirella could hear her thoughts racing, and she tried to keep up with them.
‘How does she speak through him?’ Raf wondered suddenly. ‘I thought Eutresia was dead. I thought that’s why the gods were angry. That Thenor had killed her.’
‘No one ever truly dies,’ Mirella assured her. ‘Most enter the Underworld. Some go to Thenor’s hall. Others to Eskvir’s. And the gods... they are sent to The Gallagrim, the prison of the fallen. Eutresia may be dead to us, but her spirit lingers. She is my goddess. I have devoted my life to her, and I will do anything to return Alekka to how it was in her time, when high kings wore the Sun Torc, commanding a united land. That is my dream.’
‘And Gudrum?’
Mirella blinked, realising how distracted she’d become. ‘Gudrum is the Lord of Orvala now, so anything is possible, isn’t it?’ She smiled brightly, trying to dispel any notion that she wished Gudrum harm. ‘The gods are known to change their minds, just as the wind changes direction, so we must remain alert, always listening, watching, waiting for those
signs that are sent to us.’
Raf watched her, certain that whatever Mirella might say, she had no intention of letting Gudrum remain in Orvala at all.
‘There are too many dreamers!’ Ragnahild declared moodily, eyes on the flaming lamp in Alys’ hand. ‘What are they all doing in one place? Never in my life have I seen so many congregating around one lord. It’s quite inconvenient!’
Alys had discovered that it took Ragnahild a while to calm down, and she stood silently, letting the old woman talk.
Eventually, Ragnahild looked up at her with a sigh. ‘And what are we going to do about it?’
‘The other dreamers?’
‘Mmmm, for some would see you dead, that they would! Including your own mother.’
Alys narrowed her eyes, wondering if that was true. ‘Dead?’
Ragnahild snorted. ‘You’ve never heard Mirella’s thoughts, have you? Oh no, for she keeps them locked up tight!’ She shook her head, creaking in her rocking chair. ‘She might not try to kill you, but I doubt she would try to save you either. Quite conflicted, she is, but very driven.’
Alys couldn’t imagine becoming so deadened to love that she would let her own children die. Or seek to murder them.
‘But you are soft, Alys,’ Ragnahild warned. ‘Soft and warm and loving, and Mirella is not.’
‘But we were raised by the same two people. We come from the same place, the same blood. How did she become like this?’
Ragnahild dismissed her questions with an impatient wave of her hand. ‘What we must discuss is how to stop her! Her and the girl. That odd little creature is trouble, mark my words!’ Ragnahild saw the look on Alys’ face, and she snorted. ‘What sort of dreamer are you if you can’t see beneath the surface, hmmm? How will you see the truth if you’re only looking at her big eyes? Her sweet smile?’
Alys frowned. ‘No, but I –’
‘See with your mind, Alys! Your mind!’ Ragnahild warned loudly. ‘Before it’s too late! That girl is trouble. Your mother is trouble, and Reinar Vilander is about to walk into all that trouble. So quick, stop your pouting, and let’s go over exactly what you’re going to do to help him!’
They’d gone around in circles, talking about what Reinar should do, until he left them to it, needing to think. He scratched his head as he walked into the trees, irritated by the fur hat. Arguments about what to do rang in his ears, and he changed his mind every few steps. He’d thought about how to get his brother out of Orvala many times since his first conversation with Thenor.
Since Thenor had told him about Sigurd. About Gudrum and Orvala.
The snow was deep, cold, rising well past his ankles, and Reinar felt as though he was wading through a dream, which reminded him of Alys, and he smiled, letting her face come to him for the first time in days.
He wondered if he loved her as Salma had told him he would.
If what he felt was love or just a fleeting obsession.
He’d always loved Elin. She was an anchor for him. She was his heart and his home. She knew him better than anyone, as he knew her. They’d been through so much together, and theirs had been a deep love, a long love.
But Alys?
Reinar blinked, realising that the paths he was wandering down in his mind were unhelpful to the decisions he had to make about tomorrow.
How would he approach the city? Who would he take with him?
How would he save Sigurd and get them both out alive and back to Ottby in one piece?
He was so distracted that he didn’t see the figure until it was too late, and he was tumbling over it. ‘Aarrghh!’
‘Aarrghh!’ the figure yelled back, jumping to its feet, brandishing a long staff. ‘You get back! You get back! I’m armed, I am! Armed with a most dangerous weapon indeed!’
Reinar struggled to his feet, shoulder throbbing. ‘What?’ Hands in the air, he backed away. ‘I... I’m sorry, I didn’t see you. I...’ He frowned, recognising the voice, and reaching up to pull his tangled cloak away from his face, he yelped again as the figure whacked him with the staff, turning to run away. Reinar staggered backwards, still grappling with his cloak and hat. ‘Wait! Wait!’ And clearing his eyes, he charged off through the trees, hand out, trying not to fall. ‘Eddeth? Eddeth! It’s me! Reinar!’
‘What?’ Eddeth spun around, dropping her staff. ‘What?’ Then quickly regretting that she’d dropped it, she picked it up, threatening the man who’d said he was Reinar once again. ‘How do I know you’re Reinar Vilander?’
Reinar finally untangled his cloak, revealing a broad smile on his frozen face. ‘It’s me, Eddeth! It’s me!’ And he stepped forward, arms out, looking to embrace her.
Eddeth jabbed him in the chest with her staff. ‘Back! Back now! You might say that you’re Reinar, but how do I know that to be true? Out here? In the forest? How do I know it’s the truth!’ She sneezed, hat falling over her eyes.
‘Eddeth, you’re a dreamer now. Can’t you see?’
‘Well, not while my hat’s over my eyes I can’t!’ Eddeth grumbled, trying to push it up with one hand, still brandishing her staff in the other. ‘Evil spirits can mask their true selves, you know, so what sort of fool would I be to believe that Reinar Vilander is wandering around this forest, looking for me?’
Standing still had Reinar shaking with cold, and he couldn’t think of a way to convince her.
‘Tell me what I do every full moon!’ she demanded, determined to draw out the truth.
‘You dance naked around Valera’s Tree.’
‘And what is the name of my cat?’
‘Rigfuss.’ Now Reinar sneezed. ‘And he’s the angriest cat there’s ever been. He’s scarred everyone in Ottby, especially Ludo.’ He couldn’t help but smile then, remembering how hard Ludo had worked to befriend Rigfuss, wanting to prove to them all how good he was with animals, to no avail.
Eddeth smiled, too, before straightening up again, wondering if an evil spirit would know all of that. ‘And tell me about Alys de Sant!’ she demanded, knowing exactly how to get to the heart of the creature standing before her.
‘What? Tell you what?’
He sounded irritated, and Eddeth smiled, pushing harder. ‘Are you in love with her, then? Or do you just like kissing her?’
‘What? Eddeth! What has that got to do with me proving who I am?’ Though Reinar had only just been thinking about Alys, and he brought her face to his mind quickly. ‘I’ve got a wife. Nothing matters except that I’ve got a wife.’
‘The truth! You must tell me the truth!’
Reinar thought about just grabbing Eddeth’s stick and knocking her back into the snow.
‘Well, that wouldn’t be a good idea!’ Eddeth spluttered hoarsely. ‘Knocking me over? What would that achieve? All you have to do is answer my question, and then I’ll know the truth of who you really are!’
Reinar closed his eyes, hearing Salma rasping her last breaths, telling him everything that had sounded so impossible to believe.
And yet it had happened, exactly as she’d said.
‘Yes.’
Eddeth skipped happily. ‘Oh, I always knew you loved her! Yes, indeed! I did, I most certainly did!’
Reinar looked even more annoyed.
‘But what are you doing here?’ Eddeth wondered, stopping abruptly. ‘Where are your men?’ She twisted around, trying to see that which was hidden from her, and then she saw a vision of a huge army camping amongst the trees. ‘I see fire!’
‘Yes, we’ve got fires, but Eddeth...’ Reinar grabbed her arm before she could bound away. ‘What are you doing here? I thought you were with Ludo. With Jonas and Vik.’
Eddeth’s eyes lit up, remembering. ‘I am, of course, and we have a fire too, although it may take me a while to remember where it was.’ Still, she wheeled around, slipping her hand through Reinar’s arm. ‘I knew, you know. Oh yes, it wasn’t hard to guess what was going on in your heart. All over your face, it was! Impossible to ignore!’
‘How far a
way is your camp?’ Reinar grumbled, gripping Eddeth tighter as she stumbled into a hole.
Alys and the children headed back to the cottage, all of them unhappy to see Arnon there, though he was presiding over an inviting fire, and after a short but freezing walk from the hall, they were grateful for its flames.
He looked just as unhappy to see them.
Drunk.
Magnus glanced at Alys, doubting her decision to take them out of the hall.
Alys didn’t think he was wrong, looking at the state of her husband, though she couldn’t afford to find herself trapped in the hall with Gudrum and Mirella, knowing that she wasn’t safe from either of them. In the cottage with its protective symbols, she felt free to dream and plan and think through what Ragnahild had ordered her to do. It didn’t make sense yet, but the old dreamer had insisted that she follow her instructions, and Alys could hardly argue with her.
And following Ragnahild’s instructions meant leaving the children behind, and for that, she needed Arnon. ‘Did you eat something?’ she wondered, trying to sound as though she cared.
‘In the tavern,’ Arnon grumbled. ‘Pile of slop. The taverner’s wife was killed. Gudrum’s men. He had to cook himself.’
‘Oh, that’s terrible.’
Arnon shrugged. ‘That’s life is what it is. We don’t all have goddesses bringing us back from the dead.’ He sat slumped at the table, morose from his drinking. He’d thought endlessly about revenge, about having his family back, but now that he was with them again, he just felt powerless. Alone. As though he controlled nothing at all. Everything he wanted still remained out of reach.
