“Tell me as we go.” He crouched for her to climb on, and felt her arms go around his neck for a hug as she settled on his back.
It cracked the final wall of ice inside him, and he nearly howled with pain.
Nearly cried with joy.
But instead of doing either, he began to run again, just like old times.
* * *
Yggren surrounded the mountain, standing like sentries at its foot, impossible to slip past.
Bjorn moved quietly through the trees, trying to find any weak point. He growled with frustration, and Astrid felt the tension in the muscles of his back. There was no weak point.
“It doesn’t matter that we cannot broach them,” he whispered to her. “I must make peace with them. I could enchant those near the entrance, and that would give us enough time to get within, but then we’d be trapped.”
“Are they all in league with Norga?” Astrid asked, wondering what manner of enchantress could command the frightening, powerful yggren.
“No. Impossible.” Bjorn turned deeper into the woods, and Astrid had the feeling he was searching for something, or someone. “They have always been in favor of the balance. I cannot believe Norga could have won them all over.”
“She hasn’t.”
Astrid gasped as the tree directly in front of them spoke. Then watched in shock as a man seemed to appear from the bark and leaves.
“Jorgen.” Bjorn sounded relieved, and Astrid realized he had been looking for this strange man.
She looked at him curiously. He was tall, tall as Tomas, tall as she imagined Bjorn, when he lay beside her in the dark. He wore clothes of brown and sage green, cleverly layered to make them appear like bark and leaves. His skin was a dark brown and though he was broad-chested and muscular, he was hard to see even when you knew where he stood. Astrid rubbed her eyes.
“Good day to you, I am Astrid.” She slipped off Bjorn’s back and gave a pretty curtsey, speaking softly even though they were well away from the yggren.
“I am Jorgen, my lady.” Jorgen bowed, speaking softly himself, quiet as the rustle of leaves.
“Why are the yggren standing against me, Jorgen? What do you know of this?” Bjorn cut across the pleasantries with impatience.
“I know only that since Sigurd’s death they have been waiting for your return.”
“Then I will speak with them. Can you act as my messenger?”
Astrid watched Jorgen nod slowly.
“I will approach Reidar. He stands near your entrance. What would you have me say?”
“That I consider the yggren honorable. That I wish to speak with Reidar leader to leader, and discover what has turned them against me.”
It seemed to Astrid no sooner had Jorgen nodded his agreement than he disappeared. She blinked.
“How does he do that?”
“It is not only his coloring. Jorgen is powerful in his own right. He healed me after the troll attack.”
“And this Reidar. He will not harm Jorgen?” She noticed Jorgen had not hesitated to take on the task of mediator for Bjorn.
“Jorgen is a vedfe, a forest sprite. Reidar would be foolish to harm him. Their people have been allies always, their lives tied up in the forests. If their argument is with me, and me alone, he is safe.”
“And if they are on Norga’s side. And wish to harm all loyal to you?”
“Jorgen will not be easy to kill.”
“Are there others like him?” Astrid looked through the trees and realized there could be a hundred vedfe right in front of her and she wouldn’t know it. She wondered with a shiver how often she had passed one in her own forest.
“There are others. Jorgen is their leader.”
“All men?” This place was full of men. Bjorn, Jorgen, Sigurd. Where were all the women?
“No. There are women vedfe.”
Well, she was glad of that, even though she couldn’t see them.
“Are the yggren all men?”
Bjorn shook his head. “I don’t know. They are a mysterious, ancient race. There aren’t many of them left.”
Jorgen seemed to step out of thin air into the clearing. “There lies their grudge. Sigurd’s death has shocked them. They would have you account for it.”
Bjorn nodded. “So I thought. Will you take care of my lady while I’m gone?”
“Of course.”
She saw a look pass between them, and she knew at once Bjorn meant he might be gone for good. That he was handing over permanent responsibility, should the yggren get the better of him.
She was not chattel. And she was not powerless. And she would most certainly not sit in the wood while he went off to battle, especially with the power of the wind at her disposal.
“Thank you, Jorgen, that won’t be necessary.” She kept her voice light and pleasant, and for a moment they did not catch her meaning.
“Astrid.” Bjorn’s voice held a warning.
“I will go with you, and help you if you need it,” she answered, and began walking back toward the mountain, leaving them slack-jawed in the clearing.
“I see why you say you will never hold her within the palace,” she heard Jorgen murmur.
“Quite right,” Bjorn answered. “Either Norga will kill her, or I will.”
Astrid smiled, and turned to him. “Come now, they are waiting, surely?”
“I could freeze you in place.”
“So you could.” She stared him down, and with a huff of breath he surrendered. Caught up with her.
“Stay hidden in the trees. I will not have you taken and used as a hostage.”
She nodded. “Unless you need me.”
He stopped.
“Bjorn, I will stay hidden. If your life is threatened, though, you can be sure I will step out from the forest and call on the wind to aid you.”
He started walking again, slowly, because they were near the forest’s edge, but she could see he had grave doubts.
“You are not alone anymore, Bear,” she said softly.
He twisted his head round, and his eyes pierced her with their intensity. She would have stumbled had Jorgen not suddenly been at her side, steadying her.
“Keep her safe,” Bjorn growled to his friend, and then he disappeared out onto the mountain side.
* * *
Reidar was waiting for him, and though Bjorn thought it unlikely every yggren was in Norga’s power, he felt a lurch of fear at the sight of so many of the powerful beings lined up around his mountain.
“Greetings,” he called, stepping out from the trees.
Every sentinel turned his way, although none left their posts.
“You have done us a grievous injury, Bjorn of the Mountain. What have you to say?” Reidar’s silver-grey limbs reflected the sun, and Bjorn could see he held a great anger in check. The yggren quivered with it, like an arrow shot badly from a bow. His tall, stick-like body hummed with tension.
Bjorn met his gaze, the silver eyes set in a head not much wider than his slender limbs, a man heated and stretched like glass, then turned to deadwood.
“Sigurd betrayed me and attacked me. He would have taken and killed my lady had I not stopped him.” Bjorn watched Reidar’s face carefully. There were murmurs from the other yggren up and down the line.
“Why would Sigurd betray you?” Reidar stilled for the first time since Bjorn had stepped from the wood.
“I hoped you could explain that.”
“I cannot.” Reidar frowned. “He was always in favor of the balance. Out of respect for the great tree. To side with Norga is a betrayal of everything we stand for. I do not believe it.”
“Why would I lie?” Bjorn spoke quickly as Reidar tensed for the attack. “I have no wish to anger the yggren. I have sacrificed for them, as much as for anyone. Ask yourselves, why was Sigurd fighting me?”
His words fell on deaf ears. The yggren began moving forward, their long legs eating up the ground.
“Stop.”
Astrid’s cry echoed off the cliffs a
nd halted the yggren in their tracks.
“He tells the truth.”
Reidar cocked his head, looked at her with interest. Bjorn turned to look at her himself, saw her standing fearless in her dark brown cloak, her golden hair spilling over her shoulders, bright as the sun overhead.
“You are his lady. You would say anything to protect him.”
She acknowledged his point with a nod. “Yes, but would you trust the word of the wind?”
Reidar’s silver eyes widened. “I would.”
Bjorn remembered Jorgen telling him of the song of the trees and the wind. And what were the yggren but the magical deadwood of the greatest tree of all?
“Tell the yggren what happened in the clearing,” Astrid called out, and Bjorn felt a breeze spring up, making the autumn leaves dance in the air. It seemed to spin and twirl around each yggren in turn, whispering in each ear.
When it at last died out, Bjorn could feel a change in atmosphere. The yggren had gone from angry to shocked.
Reidar fell to his knees. “You have chosen your lady well.” His voice was hoarse, choked. “I do not know why Sigurd would bring such shame to the yggren, but I swear an oath I will find out.”
“I do not take the actions of one to be the actions of all, Reidar, but I would be grateful to hear if you do learn what hold Norga had over Sigurd.” Bjorn watched as the yggren got back to his feet.
“My lady.” Reidar bowed to Astrid, deeper than any bow he’d ever given Bjorn, and with a cry, the yggren raced down the slope and vanished into the trees.
“Thank you,” Astrid murmured, and Bjorn realized she was thanking the breeze that surrounded her, dancing leaves at her feet and playing with her hair.
It seemed he’d taken the mistress of the wind for his own, after all.
Chapter Nineteen
The candle lay in her little bundle under the bed like a stone in her shoe. A bur in her clothing. Demanding attention, no matter how she tried to ignore it.
It seemed the only thing she’d gotten from her trip home was heartache and worry.
Her father had finally severed the cord, and her mother had given her the means to . . .
To what?
Betray Bjorn? Was looking on him a betrayal? She had made no oath to Norga. She did not even know who Norga was.
He had asked her not to look at him. And she had told him she did not accept that.
The arguments rapped like a woodpecker at her brain.
And still, night after night, she chose to honor his request. The candle remained untouched.
Bjorn had yet to explain what her mother’s story meant. He’d listened, and told her he would think on it, but when she brought it up with him, he avoided a straight answer. And he had not let her out of the palace again.
There was still no word from Reidar as to why Sigurd had taken Norga’s side, and Bjorn would not risk her going out.
Two weeks she had been closed up inside these gloomy passageways, wandering the halls and rooms while Bjorn ran free outside.
When he came to her at night, warm and vital, smelling of the forest, she ached for the open air as much as she ached for his touch, and to see his face.
Nothing was straightforward. She loved him . . . yes, she loved him. Loved the way he held her, and cherished her. Loved his strength and his courage. And yet she was angered by his silence and his dismissal of her need for the open air. Her need to feel the wind.
“I must go out, Bjorn,” she whispered as he rocked her in his arms in the early hours of the morning. “I am suffocating.”
“Winter comes early outside,” he soothed. “You would not want to stay out long anyway.”
“I don’t care.” She would not be put off so easily, despite her joy at his company, her joy as his hands and mouth explored her body. “I cannot live my life only waiting for you to come to me. I need to be outside.”
“Not until Norga is defeated.” There it was again. That edge of steel to his voice.
“Are you able to defeat her by patrolling the mountain?” She knew the answer to that already. Norga had him tied like a bear to a post. Circling, circling, but unable to risk going out to look for his enemy.
He sighed. “She has to come to me sometime. We must be patient, that’s all.”
She must be patient, he meant. “And you were able to get nothing useful from my mother’s story?”
“Nothing that would help defeat Norga, no.”
“Will you tell me what you did glean from it?” She had him now. In the dark, with no reason to go anywhere, the sweat from their lovemaking still drying on their skin.
And still he hesitated. “What I can add to your mother’s story will only increase your questions. Questions I cannot answer.” He smoothed a hand over her cheek and she flinched away. He sighed.
“I will tell you one day.”
“I want to know now. It concerns me. Concerns why the wind heeds me.”
“Don’t be angry.” His calm tone threw oil on the flames. “It is just a matter of time.”
Astrid lay ridged and thought of the torch-lit halls, the long, lonely days, the not knowing, and grit her teeth. “I have more time than I care for.”
“And I have none. I must go.”
He was escaping her?
“It isn’t dawn yet.” He had never left before he had to.
“I have far to go today. I need to leave now to be back tonight.”
He sounded as if he were talking of mundane subjects like the weather, or meeting with Jorgen in the clearing.
“Where are you going?” She forced the anger out of her words, pretended to be calmer.
“I have stayed too close to the mountain these last weeks. I need to patrol the far edges of my domain. Norga could cause mischief there and I would not know it.”
“Will you take Jorgen?” She hoped beyond anything he’d say no. Jorgen knew something. He was Bjorn’s closest friend.
“No. I have no need of him.” Bjorn kissed her forehead in goodbye, his arms coming around her in a final squeeze before he slipped from the curtained bed.
“Be careful,” she called after him, but she knew he would be. And now she had a full day on her own to find the invisible woodman.
As she heard Bjorn close the door behind him, she stretched out and smiled.
Today she would breathe the open air.
* * *
They hadn’t spoken of it since she last used the ladder, and Astrid realized she was trembling as she stood under the skylights. She drew the thick winter cloak she’d wished for around her, scuffed the fur-lined boots on the stone floor, waiting to find her nerve, steel herself for the possibility of disappointment. Would the ladder appear at her command, or had Bjorn banned it along with lights in this room?
“I want a ladder,” she called softly, and there before her, a ladder stretched up to the roof.
He’d either forgotten or thought she would not do it again.
It didn’t matter. It had appeared.
She climbed swiftly despite her bulky clothing, suddenly afraid, against all logic, Bjorn would return. But she reached the top and scrambled out onto the rock ledge unhindered, gasping at the cold.
The sky was only now brightening, and the horizon was thick with clouds. A storm was brewing.
She couldn’t risk going for long. Despite her defiance, she was aware of the danger. Norga’s spies could be watching her now. She pulled her cloak tighter.
“We must be on our guard,” she murmured to the air.
We?
She’d begun to see the wind as a constant ally. Almost an integral part of herself. But the depth of the feeling, the instinctive nature of it, had only just occurred to her.
She tilted her face so her hood fell back and the icy lips of the wind brushed her cheeks. A bracing morning kiss.
“Let’s go,” she whispered to it, and an eddy of air swirled around her, floating her cloak around her ankles and nudging her elbow. “Call to Jorgen throu
gh the trees for me. I can meet him in the clearing.”
She almost saw the air take shape, a lithe air nymph, and dive down the mountain to the forest to whisper the message to the trees.
It shocked her how instantly the air obeyed. It must be a mistake, this blind servitude, and she couldn’t help be afraid there would be a later accounting for her use of it. What weighed more heavily was who she would have to account to, and what the payment would be.
She hoped Jorgen could shed more light. She’d defy Bjorn a hundred times over to learn what bound the wind and her together.
When she got to the clearing, her stomach churned with anticipation, and she looked hard at every tree. How did you find someone who could make himself invisible?
“Jorgen?” She called softly, afraid, even with the wind at her back, that she would alert Bjorn’s enemies.
“My lady.”
His voice came from behind her and she whipped round, the wind blowing her cloak up like a swan beats it wings. An attempt at intimidation. Had she done that somehow, or was the wind using its own initiative?
Jorgen held himself tense, his brow furrowed. “Bjorn will be . . .” He trailed off, unable to put into words the extent of Bjorn’s anger if he knew she was in the forest.
She nodded. “I know.”
“Why then?” He held out his hands in disbelief.
“I am not his prisoner.” Liar. He is a loving warden, but he has put you in a prison all the same. “I have questions he refuses to answer, and I think you can help me.”
“Why would I tell you things my lord will not?”
“He cannot tell me because of his oath to Norga. You have no such promise binding you.” She hoped. Norga could not have extracted oaths of silence from everyone.
“That is true.” His eyes never rested as they looked through the trees. As if he expected an attack at any time. It set her even more on edge. “If I answer your questions as well as I’m able, will you return to the palace?”
“I promise.” Relief and excitement made her breathless. She stepped closer to him, lowered her voice. “Who is Norga?”
He opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. Shook his head. “I am uneasy about this. I don’t know the consequences of answering you. Bjorn should tell you that. It is not my place.”
Mistress of the Wind Page 9
