by A. E. Rayne
He wore a black tunic, trimmed with gold. His usual grey fur had been replaced with a black cloak, swept over his back, pinned on either side of his collarbones with golden brooches.
Alys saw a glimpse of another man wearing those clothes; a tall, dark-haired man with sharp cheekbones and a pointed beard, and he was standing by her mother, eyeing her with interest. She blinked, stepping away from Solveigh, watching the guests move back, clearing a path to the open doors. The drummers were steadily increasing their volume, beating out a rhythm that had Alys’ mind drifting as though Agnette was sitting before her, pounding her drum, fragrant herbs smoking in the fire.
Mirella squeezed her elbow, holding her daughter back as the crowd swept through the doors after Gudrum and Solveigh, heading for the sacrifice. ‘Wait,’ she ordered. ‘Wait here.’
Alys frowned, dragging herself away from the rhythmic drumming and the need to follow after the Vilanders, neither of whom had turned around.
‘If you want your children to live,’ Mirella whispered, ‘you will help me, Alys. Only me. Not Reinar. Not Solveigh. Not Gudrum. And most certainly not Alari. You will help only me.’
Alys didn’t know what her mother was talking about, and she stepped closer. ‘Why? What could I do?’
‘We are no ordinary dreamers,’ Mirella murmured softly, though her eyes were sharp. ‘You know that. Ragnahild was our ancestor, my mother’s grandmother. She gave her eye for the gift of knowledge, and that knowledge has been passed down from grandmother to granddaughter for centuries.’
Alys held back the words that waited on the tip of her tongue, clearing all thoughts of Ragnahild from her mind.
Wondering why Mirella had mentioned her.
‘There is much you can do if you choose to. You have a desire, I feel that. You think you know what is right, what is meant to be, but you don’t. I promise you, Alys, you don’t. And though you have masked your thoughts from me somehow, I can still read your eyes. I can see that you’re desperate to be useful. To help. But the only way you can truly help is by staying far away from what is coming.’
Alys frowned, sensing danger. ‘Or what?’
‘Your children are mine now,’ Mirella promised her. ‘I have men guarding them. They are locked in that chamber. Mine. So do anything to step in front of me, anything to stop me, and I will have them killed.’
Mirella’s words, hissed through her teeth, took Alys’ breath away, tears in her eyes.
Though Mirella didn’t even feel a twinge. ‘Ragnahild gave her eye for knowledge, Alys, and I... I gave my soul. Do not test me, for there is nothing that means more to me than seeing Tarl Brava return. Nothing. And I am quite prepared to do whatever it takes to put him on the throne.’
Eddeth heard the horses becoming restless, unsettled, smelling blood in the air. She could smell it too, and hearing distant drumming, she guessed what was happening. She wasn’t sure where she was: inside the city with the drummers, or here, in a grove of trees being attacked by old doubts, worrying that she was no use to anybody for anything.
That’s what her mother had so viciously insisted.
She heard the unwelcome voices of her dead husbands, saw the images of her dead children, and she turned away from all the unhelpful memories of who she had been.
It was all gone.
They were all gone, and she was left here, in a forest, so cold that she couldn’t feel one part of her body. So frozen that her thoughts were trapped in blocks of ice, and she couldn’t free them.
So how could she think?
How could she see?
How could she help Reinar?
The hand on her back had her screaming, and as she wheeled around in fright, Eddeth tripped over, landing on her rump with a thump. ‘Oh!’
‘Hello,’ Eddeth,’ purred the one-eyed goddess. ‘I’m so pleased that you’ve come.’
Gudrum didn’t trust any of them.
Not the strange brother or the stern dreamer. Not the serving girls who were still wielding their buckets of mead, refilling cups with smiles on their pink-cheeked faces.
Drummers lined both sides of the main street now. Mostly his drummers, Gudrum saw, though there were plenty of men he didn’t recognise mixed in with his own. They all wore bear hoods, their faces painted red, white, and black, covering their blue tattoos.
Gudrum’s body tingled, the thudding rhythm pulsing through his heavy limbs as he walked down the icy street. He felt both at one with the frozen earth and flying high above it. He’d made his steward taste the mead, and then Ilmar, reassured that Ilmar still walked behind him, knowing that he’d be safe while his loyal friend watched his back, though he had a fleeting regret that he’d sent Raf away, certain that he couldn’t trust Mirella.
Knowing that it was always helpful to see what was coming.
Eddeth was too stunned to speak as she scrambled to her feet, head nodding, nose twitching, mouth making strange shapes, but no words.
‘You didn’t see me coming?’ Alari laughed, narrowing her eye on the flustered woman. ‘But what sort of dreamer does that make you, Eddeth Nagel? Not a very useful one, I’d say. For here I am, just where you and your friends don’t want me to be.’ And leaving Eddeth to splutter nonsensically, Alari started walking, trailing breath smoke around her, until Eddeth became submerged in it, unable to move.
‘A real dreamer would have seen the danger coming for her,’ Alari breathed, using her hands now to twist the smoke until it enveloped Eddeth like a cocoon. ‘She would have seen the danger Reinar Vilander was putting himself in by walking into the city. Is he really so arrogant to believe that he could be safe? In there? With Gudrum and Mirella? With only you to help him?’ She laughed loudly, unable to stop.
Eddeth’s heart charged apace, Alari’s breath smoke trapping her. It wasn’t just frosty mist, though; Eddeth could smell something in it, and then she was coughing, struggling to breathe. ‘Help!’ she shrieked, though her voice was a faint croak, and she doubled over, sudden pains in her stomach making it impossible to stand. ‘Help...’ And then she was on the ground, hugging her knees to her chest, Alari’s laughter ringing in her ears.
The blood of the dead horse sacrificed by the strange brother lingered in Sigurd’s nostrils as he followed the guests back into the hall, where a wedding archway had been moved onto the dais. It reminded him of Reinar’s wedding to Elin, which had been held in the depths of winter, much to Gerda’s horror. Gerda, whose opinions had been completely swept aside by a determined Elin.
Elin had chosen every song sung, every flower picked, every dish Rilda cooked.
She had been planning her wedding to Reinar since she was a girl.
Agnette had told him that.
Elin had glowed with happiness that day, delighting in the attention, excited about the wedding night.
Everything had been about her.
And as Sigurd looked at Solveigh being dragged to the archway, he felt a deep sympathy for the woman, who was as much of a sacrifice as the horse had been.
He hadn’t wanted to watch either of the pitiful creatures led to their fate.
Sigurd could feel Reinar’s tension as his brother shuffled to a stop beside him. Reinar always found it hard to stand still, but now, when they were in an enemy’s hall? When Alys stood opposite him, and he had to force his eyes away from hers?
Gudrum and his reluctant bride moved towards Greppa, whose hands were busy, showing them where to stand, encouraging enough space on the dais, wanting everyone to see the couple married.
The guests stood in messy rows on either side of the raised platform, the fires sparking behind them, servants gathered in silence around the walls and in the corridor, conscious of the need to keep their movements limited while the ceremony took place. Food was cooking, the inviting smells permeating the smoky hall, but nothing would be served until the brother had pronounced the couple man and wife.
Sigurd was conscious of his belly rumbling as the hall fell into silence. He stayed
still, though his eyes were everywhere. Reinar’s discomfort was only growing beside him; he sensed that. Berger and Ludo were simmering quietly behind them, occasionally muttering to each other. Gudrum’s men were everywhere, and the hall was heated with fur-wrapped bodies, though the rain was growing heavier, splashing down the smoke holes with a determination to extinguish the fires.
Reinar turned to look at his brother, but Sigurd didn’t even smile. He saw Mirella watching them, her eyes narrowed with interest, staring from one brother to the next.
Reinar blinked, fearing what Alys’ mother would find in his mind. He tried to think of something else. Not his plans, his desires, his fears.
Ottby.
He saw his hall and his father in his wheelchair, his mother fussing around him. Agnette with the baby in her arms. Elin was there. And Bjarni. Winter the cat winding its way around his father’s legs. Reinar could almost hear him purring contentedly, thinking of Salma.
And Eddeth.
He smiled, seeing Eddeth’s big grin as she bounded past him, hurrying to her cottage.
‘No!’
The voice was unexpected, and Alari froze in surprise, Eddeth choking loudly behind her.
‘You will not kill her!’ Valera bellowed, striding towards her sister, arms extended, and within a heartbeat, Alari’s circle of smoke had evaporated, and Eddeth was free, gasping for air as she writhed on the ground.
Alari was incensed, spinning around. ‘You will interfere? You? For what purpose, Valera, Goddess of Nothing? What can you do?’
‘Eddeth, get up,’ Valera urged, her eyes on Alari, who cocked her head to one side. ‘Hurry!’
‘You came to save that?’ Alari laughed. ‘You exposed yourself to danger for that?’ It didn’t make sense, though Valera’s thoughts were hidden from her, and Alari saw no motive, no logic.
Though it was there, somewhere, she was certain.
‘Eddeth!’ Stina rushed into the clearing, having heard Eddeth’s cries, only to be met with a panting Eddeth on her hands and knees, and two strange-looking women flanking either side of her.
Valera glanced her way. ‘Eddeth!’ she called, her attention quickly back on her sister. ‘You must get up!’
‘Why?’ Alari wondered as Eddeth scrambled towards Stina, barely able to breathe; whatever magic Alari had conjured with that smoke had found its way deep into Eddeth’s lungs. ‘Why do you care so much for that ridiculous fool?’
Valera’s face showed only calm indifference. ‘Unlike you, Alari, I care about all creatures. I do not seek to harm them as you do. I do not see any as insignificant. I protect them all.’
‘Is that so?’ Alari despised her sister, and she immediately forgot about Eddeth and Gudrum and Mirella. Her hate for Valera consumed her. Her beautiful, calm, elegant sister. Tall and lovely and graceful, and always Thenor’s favourite. In his eyes, Valera’s goodness had outshone any gifts Alari might have had; any power and knowledge she may have acquired over the years.
Raf ran into the clearing, almost knocking into Stina, Aldo behind her, having chased the escaping dreamer all the way from the fire. He held a knife in his hand, which trembled seeing the gathering that awaited him.
The two goddesses stared at the latest arrivals in surprise.
‘Well now,’ Alari mused, her eye on the blinking Raf. ‘It looks as though everyone’s here. And if that’s the case, Sister, we may as well begin!’
50
Arnon sat alone in the tavern, growing increasingly morose.
It was unusually quiet, most Orvalans taking to the streets to witness the sacrifice. Which was still going on, Arnon thought distractedly, the drumbeat echoing loudly outside.
Rain was hammering the roof, the taverner having an argument in the back.
Arnon barely noticed. He felt like someone promised a great gift, only to have it snatched away at the last moment.
Alys had been his.
His pretty wife, who other men had desired and wanted for themselves.
But she had chosen him.
And he had owned her and kept her and made her do everything he wanted to please him. And she had. Out of fear and desire.
Maybe love.
She had spoken of love, at first, promising that her heart belonged to him.
But now?
Now, he’d lost her.
A man whose name he’d forgotten passed him the ale jug, though Arnon didn’t take it, his attention remaining elsewhere.
He’d lost his wife because she no longer feared him.
But how could he keep her prisoner if she didn’t see any walls?
Grabbing his cloak from the stool, he stood, grinning down at the man. ‘Why don’t we go and see what all the fuss is about, then?’
The scout rode back into the camp in such a state that Jonas grabbed hold of his cloak, trying to get him to stop babbling and start at the beginning. Bolli hurried over to find out what was happening, following Jonas as he ushered the shivering scout to the fire.
Finally, one word popped out that made sense.
‘Danger!’
‘Who? Reinar?’ Jonas wondered, glancing back at the wall, catching a glimpse of his horse tied to a tree.
‘Us!’ the scout panicked. He was a young man, still mostly a boy, and his nerves were jumping. He slipped out of Jonas’ hold, turning around to look at Vik and Ollo, who approached, peering at him curiously. ‘Us!’
Gudrum’s attention was on Solveigh, and Mirella was happy to see it.
Alys kept staring at the doors, which had been closed to keep out the cold.
Reinar could see her twitching out of the corner of his eye, and soon, Alys had drawn Ludo’s attention too.
Mirella stared at her daughter, sharpening her eyebrows, and straightening up, Alys turned her head back to the ceremony as Greppa lifted his voice above the roar of the rain assaulting the roof. He called on the gods and goddesses to bless the couple, though not Eutresia, Alys noted, which seemed odd, given who he was. The sacrificial blood splattered across his face had run and then dried on his flaccid cheeks, the whites of his eyes popping out brightly. They were odd eyes, Alys thought, pronounced and disturbing, as though he sought out and took pleasure in other’s pain. He spoke to Gudrum, asking questions, though his attention returned to Solveigh often, and there was a barely concealed hunger in those odd eyes.
The fires popped and hissed as the wind blew outside the hall, rattling the doors. The drums continued to sound in the distance as though the relentless rhythm of the sea was pounding the city. Alys listened closely, her body tensing, wondering if she could hear horses coming.
And standing beside Reinar, Mirella stared at her daughter, raising a finger to her lips.
Raf froze, listening to Valera screaming in her ears. The goddess’ mouth didn’t move, but she had a lot to say.
Alari was the enemy, she warned. Alari wanted to kill the Vilanders.
She would kill Sigurd. If she were to discover the truth, Sigurd would die!
They had to hold her here. They had to stop her, Valera insisted.
Raf felt torn, fearing for Gudrum, but thinking of Sigurd, she threw up her arms, screaming herself, the decision made.
Eddeth’s arms were already outstretched, having no argument with what Valera was saying, though, much like Raf, she didn’t know what she was doing.
Except following the goddess’ urgent instructions.
Seeing a symbol in her mind, Eddeth did as she was told, holding it as though it was a stone, keeping it tightly within her grasp.
They had to keep Alari here, in the forest, Valera told them. They had to trap both her body and her mind. One powerful goddess and two dreamers could make a symbol. They could keep Alari bound, imprisoned within it.
They could hold her here.
Alari stumbled in surprise, eye flickering with amusement as she took in the women with their arms outstretched. ‘You are doing what, Sister?’ She was amused, at first, striding forward as Valera, Ra
f, and Eddeth moved into position until they were three points of a triangle, holding their prisoner within.
Alari laughed, and then she saw bursts of blue light shooting from Valera’s hands, connecting to Raf and then Eddeth; blue light that quickly expanded and thickened until Alari lost sight of the forest entirely. Until she saw nothing but her sister and those two dreamers and their blue walls.
She turned, peering at each one in turn, searching for weakness. And cracking her neck, she headed for Eddeth, hands twitching by her sides.
Aldo drew Stina back towards the trees, wanting to keep her safe, though they couldn’t leave Eddeth. He thought of Reinar, trapped in the city, wondering how they were going to help him now.
Lotta woke with a cough, and sitting up, she momentarily forgot her dream, wanting some water.
Magnus roused himself from his sleepy slump by the fire, grabbing a cup, handing it to his now choking sister. ‘Are you alright? Lotta?’
Lotta drank deeply, nodding as Puddle nuzzled her. She took a deep breath, handing the cup back to Magnus, her eyes bursting open. ‘We have to go!’ Glancing around the chamber, she saw her cloak.
‘What is it?’ Magnus wanted to know, hurrying to tie the rope around the puppy’s neck. ‘What have you seen?’
‘Ulrick!’ Lotta panicked. ‘Ulrick is coming!’ She wrapped her cloak around her shoulders, turning back to her brother, who stepped past her to open the door.
Which was locked.
Her mother would kill her children if she said anything.
Alys could feel Mirella watching her, wondering if that was true.
According to Alari, it was. And surely Mirella had had a stronger attachment to the mother who’d reared her than two children she’d only just met.
And yet?
Arnon stumbled into the hall, drunk, and Alys’ attention was dragged towards him. Tension contorted her face, and she sensed Reinar watching her, though she wouldn’t look at him.
