“He usually comes around for breakfast but I haven’t seen him all day. I’m starting to worry.”
“Does he usually disappear like this?”
“I’m not sure. He’s only been around for a month or so. He sort of appeared so I guess he can disappear. And he never speaks, poor dear, so he could be at the bottom of a well for all I know.”
Disa patted Helga’s knee reassuringly and glanced around her. “He seems far too smart to be at the bottom of a well. We just need to whistle in the right spot and he’ll pop out of the nearest pile of wool.”
“I hope so.” Helga fiddled with the hem of her dress. “This is how it was with my son. Couldn’t find him and then next thing you know, the Jarl from the neighboring town is telling me he’s dead, sunk just off shore.”
Disa was quiet. Her brother had always been the one to say comforting things. “I’ll help you look for him,” she offered. “I can check the woods while you check the wells. How’s that sound?”
“Go get some stew for your husband.”
Disa was confused until she followed Helga’s hawk-like gaze. One of Bassi’s men had reappeared and was talking to Finn, standing too close and asking questions Finn didn’t seem inclined to answer as he wiped his hands with the bottom of his shirt and stared silently back. He looked calm. A little too calm, really. And they weren’t the only ones watching the exchange: several people were beginning to set aside their tasks and stare. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”
Disa forced herself not to run back to the hall, afraid she might attract too much attention otherwise. Once she’d slipped inside, she looked in vain for a bowl before grabbing a ladleful instead.
“Husband!” she called through the window cheerfully while kneeling on the edge of the platform. “Husband dearest!”
Finn waved a hand at her before saying something to Bassi’s underling and trotting her way. Instead of coming inside liked she’d hoped and expected, he met her at the window instead. “Yes, wife dearest?” he asked with a much thicker coat of sarcasm than her own endearment had.
She smiled sweetly, keenly aware that the mercenary had followed in Finn’s footsteps and was now within earshot. “Will you taste the stew I’m making for tonight? You know I can’t bear it if you aren’t absolutely satisfied.” She held up the ladle.
He quirked an eyebrow at her turn of phrase. “I’m happy to taste anything of yours,” he returned.
Disa tried to restrain her laugh but couldn’t, spilling a little into her hand as she scooted on her knees across the platform to get closer to him. Finn braced his hands on either side of the window and pulled himself halfway through, his legs swinging freely in the air. She laughed again. “Hello,” she whispered as she held the spoon out to him.
“Hello.”
“We were beginning to worry you’d fight that man if he kept talking.”
Finn snorted. “Wouldn’t be much of a fight.”
“No, indeed. What was he saying?”
“I think they’re about to leave. He was making a desperate attempt to aggravate me into confessing who I was. Asking questions in rapid succession to see if I’d slip.”
“What kind of questions?”
“Ladle is empty.”
“What?” Disa asked, forehead wrinkling in confusion.
“Did you or did you not ask me over here to taste your stew?” He looked pointedly at the empty spoon.
“Are you serious right now?”
“I’m hungry, I haven’t eaten since this morning.”
Disa made an exaggerated noise in aggravation as she jumped up to get more. “Why don’t you come inside and eat a bowl if you’re so hungry.” He just smiled, happy to hang out the window. “Here.” She shoved the stew back under his nose and he covered her hand with his, tilting the ladle to drink.
“It’s good.”
Disa rolled her eyes but she was enjoying the scene. “What did he say?” she asked, lowering her voice once again.
“If we were there that night, if we really lived in the village, what my father’s name was, what he’d do to…me if they spotted us in the woods after today.”
The way he stuttered over ‘me’ made Disa think the threat had been directed at her and he was being gallant in the phrasing, acting as her Great Shadow still. She let the gesture pass and didn’t challenge him further. “What in all that makes you think they’re leaving?”
He shrugged, readjusting his position a little. There was no way he could be comfortable. “Mainly the last part. It turned into threats instead of an interrogation. Like he’d accepted who we were but just in case I’d better know what awaited us if we crossed paths again.”
“Helga did say they seemed as if they were going to leave before we showed up.”
Finn nodded. “Maybe they’re preparing to leave again.”
“Maybe we should abscond to the woods after them. See where they lead.”
“Maybe we should,” he smiled.
A bearded visage popped into view just at Finn’s shoulder, grinning wide as Disa yelped in surprise. “Hello, pretty girl!”
“Hello,” she replied. She remembered seeing him at the fence with Helga multiple times but she hadn’t learned his name.
“I’ve come to steal away Fengi. I’m going to teach him how to fish!”
Finn seemed genuinely surprised as he looked down at the tiny man. “Are you really?”
“I am! Unless you want to fool around here more,” he added darkly, gesturing towards sheep induced chaos that had renewed.
“Definitely not.” Finn looked back at Disa, clearly wanting to say something but unsure with so many extra ears around.
“Go,” she said. “I promised Helga I’d help her look for Whistle anyway.”
“I’ll be back before dinner.”
“I’ll pack it up then. We can take it with us.”
Finn nodded. She expected him to slip back down to the ground and follow his aged friend out the garden gate, but he hesitated. Before Disa knew what he was doing, he’d taken hold of her hand again and brought it to his mouth, pausing for a moment before pressing her palm to his lips, the wet warmth stealing her breath, the quick flick of his tongue giving it back. “You spilled,” he said, looking at her as if nothing amazing had just taken place.
Disa took a breath and opened her mouth only to discover she had nothing to say. Finn waited a few heartbeats and then reached out again, this time his hand grasping the back of her head as he pulled her towards him. Disa let her eyes close, her hands finding his face on their own as she felt his lips press against hers, the kiss firm and easy, like they’d done it a hundred times before and would do it a million times after. She made a noise in her throat and held him firm when he seemed like he’d pull away. He increased the pressure then, his fingers curling into her hair, her teeth catching his lip. Finn’s cheeks were rough under her hands and the stubble grated against her chin and made it burn. Her mind was empty of everything but the feeling of her skin where he touched her: the back of her neck, her cheek, her mouth, every point heavy and bright. When at last they’d separated, she stifled a protest and the urge to bring her fingers to her tingling, swollen lips. His eyes on hers were wide and unflinching and Disa had to concentrate on breathing normally.
“Bye,” he said a last.
“Bye,” she whispered hoarsely as he dropped back to the ground and turned away, running down the path, his arm swinging around the neck of the old man when he reached him. Disa watched the pair as long as they stayed in view but Finn didn’t look back.
Disa adjusted the strap on the small satchel she’d packed for her and Finn again. She hadn’t known how long the search for Whistle would take and she wanted to make sure she was ready to go no matter what, but it was starting to get heavy. She’d kept it to essentials, filling it with her fancy overdress and belt, an empty water skin, and enough bread and dried mutton to get them through several days. Perhaps the fancy overdress wasn’t necessary bu
t she’d survived a massacre in that thing so she wasn’t about to leave it behind now.
Disa brought her fingers to her lips and blew, the shrill sound startling a few birds from their roosts. She’d almost circled the whole town, keeping to the edge of the brush, and the climb up the hill was proving far more challenging than the walk down. She was so sure when they started looking that they’d quickly find him tucked away somewhere, but he was nowhere to be found. Helga’s unease was starting to spill over into panic if the multiplying whistles Disa heard echoing around were any indication. She was recruiting more and more people to aid in the search. Disa tried to stay encouraging every time she saw Helga’s questioning gaze, shaking her head and saying ‘Not yet,’ but she was getting nervous herself.
I should get Finn, she thought. She didn’t know what he could do differently, but the idea was comforting. If she was missing, it was Finn she’d want looking for her. Disa was about to cut through the large grazing pasture and ask someone where he might be fishing when she heard a high-pitched whine. She stopped and held very still, cocking her head to try and figure out where the noise was coming from. It was quiet again, but Disa had been sure she’d heard something.
“Hello?” she ventured. “Someone out there?”
The afternoon stayed quiet save for a few birds and the ghost of other people’s whistles in the distance. She took a few tentative steps back towards the fence when she heard it again. “Hello?” she repeated. The whine began to break into sobs and Disa knew it was him, knew something was wrong. She crashed through the brush, tripping more than once as she yelled for him.
She came upon the tree suddenly. At first all she saw was two bands of rope stretched tightly around the trunk, the sight innocuous if it wasn’t for the wiggling fingers and toes barely visible at the sides. She scrambled around it and bit back a cry. The boy’s stomach was pressed to the tree, his body held a few feet off the ground by the virtue of the rope strung between his wrists and ankles. His arms and shoulders were marked with thin red wounds, the blood once oozing now congealed on his skin and clothing. He was sagging unnaturally and Disa was afraid to move him lest she injure him further. Her gaze was met with his huge, wet eyes, the skin beneath them shadowed from exhaustion, and she calmed at once.
“I’m going to cut you down now, ok?” The boy nodded, lips trembling. “I have a knife in my bag,” she said, silently thanking the Gods she’d brought her satchel along. “I’m getting it out now.” She found her small silver blade quickly and whipped it from its sheath. “Now I’m going to press against you so you don’t fall when I cut the rope, ok?” He nodded again and Disa kept narrating her actions. Her voice seemed to soothe him and she wanted him to feel a little control. “This may hurt,” she warned as she leaned into him, wedging her knee just below him. The boy took a deep breath but he didn’t cry out. Disa held his wrist steady in one hand and sawed with the other. The position was awkward but just as she thought she couldn’t hold it much longer, the rope slackened and split. He began crying again as his arms fell limply to his side, his butt falling down onto her leg. Disa had hoped she could put him on the ground to cut the rope around his ankles, but it was tied too tight; it didn’t slip at all once his upper body was freed. “Almost there,” she assured him. The ankles took longer as she struggled to hold the boy and put enough force on the rope to cut it all the way through. “Almost there,” she repeated just before the bindings snapped and his legs fell slackly around her own.
She reached under him gently and cradled his body in her arms, relief flooding her as he folded his hands into his chest. She didn’t relish the idea of carrying a child with all his limbs out of joint across the hilly countryside. She set him on the ground to get a better look at his injuries. He had two more thin slices over his lips and cheeks but the majority of the injuries seemed to have been inflicted on his shoulders and arms. “Are you ok?” she asked lamely.
He opened his eyes and nodded, his face flooded with relief. He tried to sit up but he couldn’t move his arms and legs, looking on their feeble movements with wide-eyed panic. “It’s ok,” she crooned. “It’s ok. They’re just tired.” She gathered him up in her arms again and rocked him slowly, running her hands up and down his legs, looking for injuries she may have missed. She wasn’t suited for this. He needed Helga. “I’m going to carry you back to the town, ok? Helga will want to know you’re safe and--”
The boy started to cry again, shaking his head vigorously. “What? What is it? You’re not scared of Helga, are you?” He narrowed his eyes in an excellent imitation of Finn when she’s said something he finds particularly foolish. “Town then? Do you not want to go into town?” He hesitated and then shook his head. “It was Bassi who hurt you, wasn’t it?” The boy shrank in her arms, his eyes downcast, and while he didn’t shake his head either way, he didn’t need to. “He’s gone. I’m almost sure. But just to be safe, I’ll cover you with this,” she said as she used her free hand to pull her overdress from her satchel. “And we’ll go the long way around.” He still seemed unsure and Disa couldn’t blame him. She knew what it was to feel completely unsafe. She’d kill someone for a sword. Bassi, preferably. An idea came to her. “And you can carry this.” She handed him her small silver blade. “Just be careful, it’s sharp.”
The boy took the dagger gingerly, flexing his fingers around the handle. He looked at Disa, his lips pursed, his entire body tensing. “Thank you.”
Disa stared at him for a few moments and tried to determine if she’d just hallucinated his voice or not. It was clear and easy, as if he’d been talking all along. Disa pushed back the hair that had fallen from his forehead, biting the inside of her cheek when he flinched. “You’re welcome.”
The walk around town was the longest of her life. Every sound was a man clad in black, every bird was the call for attack. The shore was the hardest: it provided no cover and the sand underfoot reminded her of charred bodies and smoke. She ran as best she could with his awkward weight. His arms and legs were wrapped tight around her, his strength clearly returning, and while the dress thrown over her shoulder covered his head and body, anyone looking at them from behind would clearly see the rest of him. She tried not to think too hard about it and instead fervently beseeched the Gods to let Finn be right, to let the mercenaries be gone.
When she’d finally reached Helga’s, her arms were beginning to shake. The door to the hall was barred and Disa pounded her palm against the wood in rapid succession, her eyes darting left and right. “Helga, let us in,” she called, thumping the door again.
She heard muffled voices and the sound of the scraping wood before the door cracked open and Helga peeked through the opening. She gasped as the boy pulled the cloth from over his head and wrenched the door open, pulling them both inside. “We thought they’d gotten you,” she whispered harshly, sliding the plank into place and barring the door once more.
“Who, Bassi?” she asked as she set the boy down gently on the table.
“They packed up camp all of a sudden just after you’d left,” Halfdan said making Disa jump at the sound of his voice. The forger was tucked in the corner and she hadn’t seen him. “No one has seen Fengi in about as long. We were sure they’d gotten you.”
“He’s fishing.”
“Bassi fishes?” Halfdan puzzled.
“No, Finn does.”
“Fengi.”
“Finn, Fengi, they’re both fishing. Besides, does it matter now that Bassi is gone?”
Helga was clucking over the boy as she pulled his shirt over his head. “What happened?”
“I’m not sure,” Disa answered, crossing back to the pair of them. “He was tied to a tree when I found him. It looks like Bassi cut him.”
“Whipped him, more like. The man likes his whips,” she muttered. “What did he use, a stick?” The boy nodded.
“Bastard,” Halfdan proclaimed, pulling his sword from his belt.
Helga ignored him. “Let’s clean these up.�
�
Disa frowned, wondering at the sudden departure. “They must have known we were looking for him. They knew if he was found injured, the town might not care much about retribution. We would have strung them up anyway.”
“BASTARDS!”
“It’s a little odd considering they’ve been sitting here for so long, though…”
“Hush, both of you,” Helga admonished, looking concernedly at Whistle as he screwed his face up.
“Go tell the others we’ve found him,” she commanded, and the forger jumped to obey. “You,” she barked, turning back to Disa. “Build up the fire while I get fresh water.”
Disa threw some wood into the fireplace and sat back down by the boy who seemed to be getting more upset since they’d arrived. “What’s wrong?” she whispered. “Are you worried they might come back?” Whistle started breathing faster and faster, his eyes large and pleading. “It’s ok,” she reassured him. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”
He huffed a few more times before his words and tears spilled out, falling one over the other. “It’s all my fault they’re going to die I just wanted him to stop hitting me and I couldn't tell him the truth but he wouldn’t stop asking and asking so I told him about the people in the woods and Bassi is going to kill them and they didn’t do anything I’m sorry I’m sorry I didn’t know what to do I couldn’t tell I’m sorry!”
“Hey, hey, hey.” Disa climbed up on the table beside him, wanting to hold him but afraid to grip his wounded shoulders and arms. “Slow down and tell me what happened.”
“Everyone was asleep and there was nobody to watch so I was just wandering around.”
“This morning?”
“Yeah. But then someone grabs me from behind and they tied me to the tree and Bassi had this long stick and if he hit me just right, it cut my arms. He kept asking me about you and Finn and if you really lived here. I told them what I was supposed to. I told them that his name was Fengi and you were his wife. I said you’d always lived here. I didn’t mess up, not once.”
Disa felt sick. “I’m sorry you had to lie. I’m sorry you got hurt.”
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