by A. E. Rayne
‘Please!’ Valera begged, knowing they still had some way to go. They couldn’t let Alari escape now, for the Vilanders were still in the city. ‘Please, Raf!’
‘You hold on!’ Eddeth cried, vibrating all over, certain that her body was about to snap in two. ‘Don’t listen to her! You don’t love Gudrum. You don’t love that hideous man! He never cared for you! He chose that witch Mirella over you. He didn’t care if you died! He hoped you would!’
Raf didn’t know Eddeth.
Alari had helped her once; her and Gudrum both.
She didn’t know Eddeth.
She didn’t know Sigurd either, but she saw an image of him lying on top of her, and she was staring into his eyes, his hands on her face.
Those eyes, so blue, just like...
Raf’s eyes widened, aware that Alari had frozen before her, and suddenly the trance was broken, and her arms fell uselessly to her sides, the blue light extinguished.
Mouth hanging open, Sigurd’s name on the tip of her tongue, Alari spun away, black cloak sweeping around her in a furious blur.
And then nothing.
‘No!’ Eddeth rasped, voice straining. ‘Oh no! Where has she gone?’
Alys squeezed Reinar’s hand, holding him back as they reached the piers. The others moved ahead, but Alys felt an overwhelming urge to remain behind, Ragnahild’s voice loud in her ears.
‘What is it?’ Reinar pulled her close, trying to make himself heard over the thunder. ‘Why are we stopping?’
‘Someone’s coming!’ Alys cried, feeling confused, wondering who it was.
Thenor strode down the icy docks, cloak flapping behind him, the hat on his head untroubled by the storm. ‘You must leave!’ he bellowed, his attention drawn to the sounds coming from the wall in the distance, knowing that the gates wouldn’t remain closed for long. ‘Get Sigurd out of here! Now!’
Alys blinked at Reinar in surprise, but Reinar only nodded.
‘Alari is coming!’ Thenor roared. ‘You must hurry!’
‘Where?’ Reinar could barely see Alys as the storm descended upon Orvala.
She took his hand, almost skating over, pulling him around. ‘We’re taking a ship.’
‘What?’ There was little time for thinking, though, as the sounds of danger became more demanding. Reinar could hear shouting on the wall, men running down the main street, desperate to prevent the looming attack. He thought of Jonas and Vik, hoping they’d convinced Ulrick Dyre to help them, watching as the sky darkened further.
And it needed to be dark, Thenor knew, walking away from Alys and Reinar, arms rising out of his cloak, reaching to the clouds, where his loyal friend Ulfinnur was waiting.
When Alari disappeared, Valera had left.
Eddeth didn’t know where either goddess had gone. She was confused, her arms aching, her throat dry and sore. Her head spun, and her shoulders heaved, and she didn’t know what to do.
Sigurd’s face popped into her mind. Alys’ too. And she realised that she needed to work on finding a way to save them all. She turned to Raf, hoping they could work together, only to discover that the little dreamer had gone.
Gudrum’s men crowded the gates, screaming at the guards on the wall to do something. They saw glimpses of their lord standing upon the ramparts, a black-cloaked figure in the darkening sky, though he wasn’t even moving, let alone telling them what to do. But Gudrum’s men could hear the army of horses behind the wall and the roars of warriors in the distance. And those who’d been in the hall knew that it was likely Tarl Brava and his army returning to reclaim their city. So, determined to secure the gates, they pushed forward, shouting over each other, weapons drawn.
Mirella was nearly knocked over as she tried to make her way through them, and quickly wild with irritation, she stepped back, clearing a space. Throwing her arms out, she quickly sought those guards bound to her.
Gudrum’s men.
There were ten in total, and swords drawn, they turned to face their friends, slashing and stabbing and forcing them all back from the gates.
The shock of the attack by their own men confused many, panic ensuing. More weapons were drawn, but those bound warriors had the impetus, and they surged forward without fear, urged on by Mirella, pushing everyone away from the gates, screams rising as the injured fell, grabbing faces and limbs.
And though the men were helpful, Mirella didn’t need them to open the gates.
Alari had shown her that.
That meddling goddess had helped Gudrum capture the city by wrapping Tarl’s men in spells, binding some to do her bidding, and locking the rest in the ship sheds.
She had opened the gates for Gudrum to walk through with ease.
Not with men, but with symbols.
Though now the symbols on the gates were Mirella’s, and closing her eyes, she brought them to life, fingers curling over as though she was gripping the gates herself. And in one sweeping movement, she pulled her hands apart, eyes wide with triumph as Orvala’s gates swung open, scraping loudly across the ice.
Tarl heard them, and running now, seeing his opportunity, he firmed up his grip, throwing his sword in the air. ‘Head to the main street!’ he yelled to Offa, who kept pace on his right. ‘I’m going to the hall! You see Gudrum, take him prisoner. Don’t kill him! That bastard’s mine! I’ll burn him alive once I’ve peeled off his skin! He’s mine!’
Offa nodded, moving further right, motioning for his men to follow him, struggling to see now.
Ulrick spurred his horse into the city, chopping his sword down on the first man he saw. He could only guess that he was one of Gudrum’s.
Alvear rode past him, bellowing into the storm, freezing rain slick on his face. ‘Kill the bastards!’ he roared, squinting in the darkness. ‘Kill them!’
Vik rode after them, Ollo behind him. They’d spoken earlier, ensuring that their men knew to stick together. Whatever happened inside the city, they couldn’t afford to be pulled apart, separated by Gudrum’s and Tarl’s forces. Their goal wasn’t to defeat either man. They needed to get to Reinar and Sigurd, Alys and the children. And then get out of the city. Though seeing how dark it was becoming, it was going to be near impossible to see who was who.
They pushed their horses into the melee, where Gudrum’s confused warriors and Tarl’s exhausted men were quickly tangled in knots, swords slashing, blood splattering, screams ringing in their ears.
‘Stay together!’ Vik reminded Ollo as he drove Frostbite forward, needing to get away from the crush of bodies crowding the gates. They had to find the hall. Surely that was where Alys and the children would be?
Not out here in this chaos.
Jonas pushed up behind them, trying to see a way through. And then he glimpsed a flash of golden hair in the distance, heart stopping. ‘Alys!’ No one heard him, not even the woman, who held out her hands as she ran, trying not to slip over, jostled by the battling warriors around her.
Jonas blinked as the woman turned to the side, realising that it wasn’t Alys at all.
It was Mirella.
And sheathing his sword, he pulled his bow from his back, reaching for an arrow.
Mirella was struggling with her balance on the icy street, her mind fixed on Lotta and Alys, who she could feel slipping away from her.
She had to reach them before it was too late.
‘Aarrghh!’ The pain was a shock, and Mirella tumbled forward as the arrow dug deep into her back, taking her breath away. Her ears started ringing as she fell, crashing to the street, noises echoing around her like a furious storm.
Tarl’s. Her daughter’s. Her father’s.
Her mother’s.
And then the sky turned to black.
52
Magnus bit his tongue as he tripped, barely keeping to his feet, following after Sigurd Vilander, who appeared untroubled by the sudden darkness, for he was moving quickly.
‘What’s happening?’ Ludo wanted to know, clinging to the boy’s hand. ‘I can’t se
e!’
Berger had no idea. He heard Lotta struggling with her puppy, and he gripped her hand, keeping her close. ‘We stay together!’ he demanded, wondering where Alys and Reinar were. They’d been walking behind them, but now he couldn’t hear them at all. ‘Reinar?’
‘Reinar!’ Ludo called, panic making him breathless. ‘Alys?’
‘Gudrum?’
Gudrum shook his head, which was suddenly clear of confusion and immediately full of urgency. ‘Ilmar?’ It was too dark to see his loyal friend, but he quickly felt Ilmar’s hand on his arm. ‘What’s happening?’ The darkness was complete. He couldn’t see anything, though he could smell smoke and hear voices rising in confusion.
He edged forward, touching the rampart wall, and gripping it, he squinted, trying to see a hint of what was happening, but the darkness was a blanket.
There was no way through.
‘Get out!’ screeched a voice Gudrum didn’t know. Suddenly all other noises left his head, that voice rising loudly in the silence, as clear as a bell. ‘Go! Tarl Brava is here! With Ottby’s army! They’re working together. You must take your men and run! Head east! Hurry!’
Gudrum turned, his senses sharpening. And hands out, he started feeling his way to where he hoped the guard tower was. ‘Ilmar! Quick! Follow me!’
Reinar’s presence steadied Alys as they walked hesitantly into the darkness, unable to see a thing, hands out, searching for danger.
‘What’s happening?’ Reinar wanted to know.
‘Thenor’s hiding us,’ Alys guessed, thinking of Ragnahild. ‘We just need to get past the symbols.’
‘Symbols?’ Reinar didn’t understand. ‘What symbols? How will we see any symbols?’
It was a good question, but Alys realised that she could see something glowing in the darkness now.
During her visits with Ragnahild, the old dreamer had instructed her to carve a row of symbols across the entrance to a particular pier. And, despite feeling self-conscious and mostly confused, Alys had followed Ragnahild’s orders, adding a new symbol here and there, trying not to draw attention to herself, until the whole row was finished. She hadn’t understood why, though Ragnahild had been typically cryptic, insisting that everything would be revealed at the right moment.
And now, Alys could only guess that this was it.
‘There!’ she called, pointing at the entrance to the pier, but sensing that Reinar couldn’t see anything, she tugged his hand, leading him forward. ‘I can see! Hurry! I have to touch those symbols!’
‘What are we waiting for?’ Sigurd wanted to know as he found his way to Ludo and Berger. ‘Where’s Alys? Where’s Reinar?’ He clung to Solveigh, who kept squirming by his side, threatening to slip away. And though he didn’t know the woman, he wasn’t about to let anything else happen to the sad creature.
Ludo didn’t know, and it worried him.
‘What’s that?’ Magnus cried, pointing to where he’d heard a cracking sound, and though no one could see anything, they turned their heads.
‘The ice is breaking,’ Sigurd breathed, suddenly realising why they were waiting on a pier. ‘The ice is breaking!’
Thenor couldn’t command the darkness for long, and as Alari approached, striding down the docks, he felt his hold weakening. His arms, raised in the air, were trembling. But he would take no help. He would risk no one else to keep his son safe.
Ulfinnur was working to melt the ice; he could feel that.
He could hear it too.
Screams echoed in the distance, panic in the darkness, which remained complete. Not even a hint of moon or star broke the endless void of black sky stretched above his head.
Just perfect, hidden darkness.
‘Do you think that I can’t stop you?’ Alari snarled like a wild beast before him.
Her footsteps were heavy, stomping, as though she was an ice giant, every thud weakening Thenor’s hold. Distracting him. Unsettling him.
Though he did not fear her.
‘Stop me?’ Thenor laughed. ‘What do I care if you stop me, Alari, my evil child? Do you think this is about me? That I care about myself? That this is about what I want?’
‘Oh no, I see that now, Father. I see that it’s not!’ Alari needed to concentrate. To free Orvala of the darkness, she needed to stop talking, but she wanted Thenor to know how close he was to losing everything.
Everything.
Thenor saw her eye glowing. One tiny blue eye, bright in the darkness, and it sent shivers up his spine, his arms shuddering now.
‘I will kill your son,’ Alari warned, thrilled to be in possession of such knowledge; to be the mistress of Thenor’s most closely guarded secret. ‘I will kill Sigurd Vilander, and once the pain of that loss breaks your ancient heart, I will come for you!’ And bringing her hands out before her, Alari closed her eye.
Leaving the row of symbols glowing behind them, Alys headed down the dark pier with Reinar, trying to remain focused on finding her children, though she sensed danger growing behind her. Ragnahild’s voice was a steady drumbeat in her ears now, urging her to hurry, accusing her of dallying. ‘This way!’ she called, tugging Reinar along. ‘Follow me! This way!’
Ludo turned at the sound of that familiar voice, pulling Magnus close, unable to see a thing. ‘Alys?’
‘Steady now,’ Berger growled, feeling the ice melting beneath his boots, turning to slush. ‘Careful! We don’t want to slip off the pier!’
He wasn’t wrong, Sigurd thought, almost losing his balance. He clung to Solveigh, who wanted to go in the opposite direction to wherever he was taking her.
‘Mama!’ Lotta called. ‘Hurry! The light is coming!’
Alys turned, seeing a cool white glow on the docks now; the outline of two cloaked figures facing off against one another. Heart racing, she turned back, seeing hints of her children. Sigurd was there with Solveigh. Berger and Ludo; Reinar’s six men too. ‘Get on board!’ she cried, pointing to the familiar ship tied to the mooring post. ‘We have to leave!’
Raf was panicking, trying to see as she moved through the city, working to get her bearings. There were faint hints of light now, blurry shapes, but she couldn’t move quickly. Tall warriors towered over her, blocking her path, weapons poised to strike their enemies. The darkness had meant that, for a time, no one could see where their enemies were. Now, though, the darkness appeared to be receding, and voices grew louder, threats rising again.
Raf tried to slip through the men, desperate to find Sigurd. He was in danger, she knew, and it was all her fault. Alari had looked into her mind and discovered Sigurd’s secret. A secret Sigurd didn’t even know he had.
Arms out in front of her, Raf pushed forward, sensing the danger increasing, her heart pounding.
Sigurd was at the docks. She saw him by a ship.
She had to hurry. She had to reach him!
And then a tug on her cloak, and she was spinning around.
To Gudrum.
The darkness had stopped Jonas and Vik in their tracks.
Any hope of quickly finding Alys and the children had been extinguished. Not even Benn, who’d been leading them to the hall, had been able to move forward. Now though, as the light gradually returned, Vik realised that they were surrounded by enemies. He saw men swathed in grey furs, faces covered in blue tattoos; some with painted cheeks wearing bear hoods. He saw his own men, Reinar’s men, and they mainly looked confused, seeking some direction.
Jonas swallowed, trying to think clearly, knowing how much Alys and the children were relying on him, though memories of Mirella had him paralysed.
He didn’t see her as the woman he’d struck down with an arrow.
Not the evil dreamer who had murdered her own mother.
He saw the little girl he’d bounced on his knee; the crying baby he’d held in his arms.
He shook his head, trying to think.
‘What do we do?’ Ollo panicked as Destroyer stumbled. He wound the reins around his left hand, keeping
the horse under tight control. ‘Where do we go?’
Benn turned his horse in circles, looking for a way out in the near-darkness, anger building at the sight of those men who were obviously from The Murk. ‘Through here!’ he cried, turning his horse to the right. ‘Back to the gates! We’ll head around the back! Away from the main street!’
‘Grandfather!’
Jonas froze, distracted by Alys’ voice in his ears, not sensing the sword coming for him or the warrior poised to stab him in the back.
But Ollo did, and releasing his sword, he hacked at the man’s head, which stayed on.
But only just.
Jonas spun around, horror in his eyes; gratitude too. And he shook his own head, trying to wake up.
‘You must leave, Grandfather! Go! We’re taking a ship, but you must go! Please! Hurry!’
‘What?’ Ollo nudged Destroyer up to Jonas, who looked to have frozen. ‘What is it? We’ll get left behind!’ His eyes skipped past Jonas to where the red-headed Benn was leading Vik and his men away from them. Spinning around, he brought up his blade to defend himself, arm jerking at the force of the blow. He shuffled in the saddle, spinning a whinnying Destroyer around, ducking the next strike, suddenly surrounded by shadowy warriors. ‘Fuck! Jonas!’
Gudrum lifted Raf’s hood over her hair, keeping her close as he crept through the sprawling battle, Ilmar beside him with his sword out. Gudrum held his down by his leg, not wanting to provoke an attack; not wanting to draw the eye of Tarl Brava, who he could hear, and now see up on a white horse, spinning around, spitting in fury, sword waving, seeking a path through to the hall.
Tarl’s eyes swept the clashing warriors, gaining a growing understanding of who was who as the sky lightened. Still, it was oddly dark, and he barely recognised Ulrick Dyre as he rode up to him. ‘Who’s here?’ he demanded. ‘The men with you? Who are they?’
