DEBTS (Vinlanders' Saga Book 3)

by Frankie Robertson

  “I think instead that you’ll be bringing her the happy tidings that not only is her son restored to her, but he is fully a man with a powerful Talent, and able to inherit his place as Jarl.”

  Kellan emerged silently from between two trees and answered Norva’s unspoken query. “No sign of others, except for one set of tracks that are candlemarks older than theirs.” She tilted her head at the men lying on the ground. “The tracks lead off yonder and don’t intersect with the way these four approached.” She pointed back the way she’d come, in the same place Aren had disappeared into the dappled green.

  “Those would be Aren’s tracks,” Annikke said. “He’s hunting, since we’ve fed most of our food to Vali.”

  Halageth rose to pace the perimeter of the small clearing and Kellan took her place watching the forest over Norva’s shoulder.

  “If it’s not a secret, will you tell me about the Daughters of Freya?” Benoia asked.

  “It’s not a secret,” Norva answered. “We are wives and mothers and daughters who couldn’t find justice from the men who had power over us. We had nowhere to run to until Lady Solveig gave us the use of fallow land.”

  “That’s why you don’t use your patronyms?” Annikke asked.

  “We see no reason to use the names of men who beat us, or used us against our will, or sold us into thralldom to pay their debts. At home we call ourselves by our mother’s name. There I’m known as Norva Maeligsdatter.”

  “I like that. That’s how I’d like to be known. Benoia Annikkesdatter.”

  “You have a mother,” Annikke said softly.

  “I do, but she never stood up for me. She let Da beat her, and me. I’d rather be known by your name.” Her fierce expression suddenly turned doubtful. “Is that all right?”

  Annikke blinked, willing her tears away. “Of course.”

  Benoia nodded as if it was all settled. “Do all of the Daughters of Freya know how to fight the way you did?”

  “Most of us. Sometimes an angry father or husband comes looking to reclaim the woman he drove away. We learn how to protect ourselves.”

  “I’d like that,” Benoia said. “What do I have to do to join you?”

  “Benoia,” Annikke protested. “You don’t know these women.”

  “I know I don’t ever want a man to touch me the way Sveyn did. I don’t ever want to be afraid like that again. And what if my father stops selling me to you? What if you can’t pay? Should I let him sell me to someone else, or let him beat and starve me again?”

  Annikke twisted her hands together. She and Benoia hadn’t talked much about what her life had been like under her father’s roof. Annikke had just been fiercely glad to trade her healing potions and hangover remedies to keep Benoia away from Fornos.

  The look Norva slid between Annikke and her foster-daughter held shrewd understanding of the loss Annikke feared. “You would be welcome as well,” she said.

  “Even Fey-marked as I am? Are the Daughters of Freya so welcoming?”

  Norva remained silent and looked away. Annikke shook her head. “I thought not.”

  The older woman stood. “We have housekeeping to do. Let’s get these bodies out of camp.”

  Norva and Benoia moved the bodies of Morlegg’s companions away from their camp. Annikke cleaned and bound the stab wound Len had inflicted that Halageth finally admitted was paining her, and used a touch of her magic to keep the shallow puncture from festering. Halageth raised her eyebrows at the sensation, but said nothing beyond offering her thanks.

  The three Daughters of Freya traded the duty of patrolling the forest around their little camp twice. Annikke fed Vali again, and again he fell asleep as soon as he’d eaten. Kellan taught Benoia how to break the grasp of a man by unexpectedly moving closer, and to not run until her opponent was down and disabled. Annikke’s heart ached as she watched Benoia’s brows draw together in concentration as she knocked the plump woman on her arse and faked a blow to her groin.

  Kellan laughed. “Well done! You’re a quick learner.”

  Benoia grinned as she clasped the other woman’s arm to help her up. “I wish I’d known how to do this a sevenday ago.”

  Annikke wished that, too, but even if Benoia had defended herself without magic, they’d probably have needed to flee anyway. Sveyn would still have sought revenge for his bruised pride.

  Kellan smiled sadly. “None can unravel what the Norns have woven. At least you know it now.”

  A nightingale trilled in the woods, and Kellan’s posture sharpened. She drew her knife. “Someone’s coming.” Then she faded into the trees.

  *

  Aren pulled up short some distance from where he’d left Annikke and Benoia to survey the ground, the foliage, and the trees. The signs were subtle, but they were there for any good hunter to find, let alone one with a Tracker talent. Multiple people had passed by here, and none of the tracks belonged to Annikke or Benoia.

  Using all his woodcraft, Aren silently backed away a good distance, cached the young buck he’d shot and cleaned, then nocked an arrow. Spiraling around the clearing, he watched for watchers and listened for careless conversation, or, gods forbid, cries of distress.

  He hadn’t gone far before he found the bodies of three men lying side by side. A spike of alarm jolted his heart. It was too much to hope that this violence hadn’t touched Annikke and Benoia, but at least it wasn’t their bodies lying here. Aren pushed down the impulse to rush into their camp to reassure himself that they were all right, and looked closer at the dead. The bodies were marred by arrow and stab wounds. Annikke and Benoia hadn’t killed these men. Others had done so, and it was far more likely to be the result of a falling out amongst Outcasts than it was to have been honorable men defeating ruffians. Even if there’d been a battle between good men and evil, these fallen could be the good.

  Instead of following his desire, he continued on his inward circle until he found a place where repeated tracks indicated a path that had been traveled more than once by a perimeter guard. He obscured any trace of his own passage, then tucked himself back among the undergrowth and settled in for his second hunt of the day.

  He hadn’t long to wait.

  The sun had moved less than a handspan when Aren heard someone coming. A few moments later a tall, well-rounded woman passed by his hiding spot carrying a bow. She moved carefully, making little noise. Aren held still. The woman paused as she crossed the place where he’d stopped to read tracks, casting her gaze about as she examined the ground for sign. Aren held his breath. If the woman had a Talent for Tracking equal or better than his own, she’d see through his tricks.

  He waited, watching as she searched the area. When the woman finally moved on, Aren released a pent up breath.

  The next person to pass by his hiding place was a slender woman who was as silent as the breeze. She didn’t hesitate as she passed by.

  Aren continued to wait. He’d seen seven different sets of tracks as he’d circled the clearing. He could assume that three of them belonged to the dead men. That left four.

  The third woman didn’t follow the same route as the other two. She traveled a wider path, passing beyond Aren, but still not seeing him in his hide. When the first woman again passed by at the expected interval, Aren had seen enough. Only three women were patrolling the camp. He guessed these were Daughters of Freya, though why they were here, he couldn’t guess, unless it had something to do with Vali. That left one set of tracks unaccounted for. The others he’d seen were large and had to belong to men, and three of them were dead.

  It was time to sort out this mystery.

  Aren had heard the usual rumors about Freya’s Daughters, but since they apparently had defeated at least three men he wasn’t going to underestimate them just because they were women. The odds were at least three to one against him, and they’d already proven their willingness to kill. He didn’t think they would harm Annikke and Benoia, but there was only one way to find out if he’d already failed to repay
his debt to the Elves. He stood up, returned his arrow to its quiver, and then made his way noisily toward the camp.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Aren!” Annikke stood when she saw him, a smile lighting her face.

  Safe. Annikke and Benoia, sitting near Vali, were both safe. Aren released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

  A second later the force of Annikke’s smile struck him. It transformed her, and for an instant all other thought left Aren’s mind. She was lovely without her perpetually worried expression, and he found himself smiling back as if they were the only ones in the clearing.

  Her smile faded. “No luck?”

  Aren dragged his attention back to where it needed to be. A quick scan showed no strangers in their camp.

  “Where are our guests?” Aren held his bow loosely in one hand at his side, and his other well away from his dagger. He didn’t want to die from a misunderstanding.

  “Here,” a feminine voice answered. The smallest of the three women he’d seen emerged from the trees beyond his left shoulder, a drawn bow in her hands.

  Aren turned slightly to better see her. She held her bow steady and sure, and he had no doubt she’d loose at the least threat. And there were the other two, still out of sight.

  “Norva, this is Aren. He’s … escorting us to Quartzholm,” Annikke said.

  “He’s taking me there to answer for the crime of defending myself,” Benoia added.

  “Do you work for the same Lord Tholvar that those others claimed to serve?”

  “No.”

  “Benoia?” Norva asked as she continued to gaze at Aren down the length of her arrow.

  “I don’t think so,” Benoia admitted. “He said he serves the Jarl.”

  “He’s not a threat,” Annikke said to Norva. “Not like those others. You can draw down.”

  Norva relaxed her string, but kept her arrow nocked. Aren turned his attention to Annikke, grateful that she thought at least that much of him. “What happened?”

  “Some men came into the camp and said they were going to take us to Lord Tholvar. Or maybe Sveyn. One said they served the Jarl. They were a little confused on the subject. They got violent when Norva and her friends arrived and started asking questions.”

  Something twisted in Aren’s gut, something more than the shame that he’d failed in his duty. “Did they hurt you?”

  A shadow passed over her face. Something had happened, but she said, “No, thanks to these Daughters of Freya.”

  Aren closed his eyes, as a storm surge of relief flooded him. He didn’t want to think about how Annikke and Benoia might have fared in the care of Tholvar’s men. His throat was unexpectedly tight as he spoke. “My thanks, Norva.”

  “We saw a woman at knife’s point. That doesn’t sit well with us.”

  “I’m in your debt.” His debts would soon bury him, but this was one he’d gladly pay.

  Norva shook her head. “Nay. You saved the heir to Forsvaremur. We’re even.”

  Aren cast a look at Vali’s slumbering form. “Lady Solveig’s son, eh?” He turned back to Norva. “Since neither of us want to bring harm to Annikke, Benoia, or Vali, perhaps your two companions could stop aiming their arrows at me?”

  Norva lifted a brow, then trilled a whistle like a whippoorwill’s call. “They will continue to keep watch, however.”

  The feeling in Aren’s back that felt like target had been tacked there eased. He gave her half a smile. “It’s only prudent.”

  The wiry woman advanced closer, looking at the youth curled in his blankets. “How long before Lord Vali can travel?”

  Annikke shrugged. “His body will tell us. It would have been better if your hunt had been successful,” she added to Aren. “He needs more food than we have.”

  “Did you think I’d come into an armed camp hampered with a carcass? Build up the fire, we’re eating venison tonight.”

  *

  Annikke leaned forward, legs crossed tailor fashion, a warm cup of tea in her hands. Her belly was full, Vali had some color in his face again, and in company with Aren and the Daughters of Freya, her fear of Lord Tholvar’s men was in abeyance. Trouble still stalked her and Benoia, but for the first time in a week, worry wasn’t in the forefront of her mind.

  Dusk gave way to night. Norva had just returned from her sweep of the perimeter, and Kellan had slipped away for her patrol when Benoia said, “I want to go with Norva and the others when they take Vali home to Forsvaremur.”

  Annikke’s fragile peace shattered at the thought of losing Benoia. But it wouldn’t happen, not yet anyway. “You made a promise to Aren.” She didn’t look at him, but she felt Aren hold himself still, saying nothing.

  “I promised to do him no harm, and to not try to escape. I haven’t.” She looked at Aren. “But if you let me go, that wouldn’t be escaping.”

  “Benoia!” Annikke spoke sharply. “You can’t ask a man to break his oath! Especially not so that you won’t have to.”

  Her foster-daughter’s expression grew both stricken and panicked. “I’m sorry! But what am I to do? We don’t know who sent those men. Maybe the Jarl decided not to wait for Aren to bring me in. I’m just a poor girl from a small village. Maybe he just wants to make me go away.”

  Annikke shook her head. “Far more likely it was Sveyn who sent those men. Lord Fender said to come to him if we were ever in need. You trust him don’t you? Would he serve an unworthy man?”

  “Do lords keep their promises any better than other men?” Benoia asked bitterly.

  Annikke cast an anxious glance at Aren at the implied insult. Even Norva’s brows rose, but Aren remained silent, his expression drawn. Annikke held her breath. Any second now he’d put Benoia in her place. He might even decide that he couldn’t trust her to keep her word and demand she submit to restraints. Would the Daughters of Freya allow that? Would they come to blows?

  “I promised to protect you, and I failed to do that,” Aren said in a tightly controlled voice. “It’s only by a gift of the gods, and the skill of the Daughters of Freya, that you weren’t harmed. I am forsworn. But I will not fail to keep my oath to the Jarl. I will take you to Quartzholm.”

  Who was his promise to protect us given to then, if not the Jarl? Lord Fender?

  “Moreover, I believe the only way to keep you both safe is to go to Quartzholm. Running to Forsvaremur isn’t the answer.”

  “Sometimes running from danger is all a woman can do,” Halageth said into the silence that followed his words.

  “Sometimes, but not this time,” Aren said. “Those men were not sent by the Jarl. I’d stake my life on it. I haven’t been in Quartzholm long enough to know all by sight, but I do know what kind of man Lord Fender accepts into his service, and by extension, the Jarl. Those men would not behave as you’ve told me these did, nor were they wearing anything that identified them as being in the Jarl’s service.”

  “That’s all well and good, but what if the Jarl decides he needs to placate Lord Tholvar more than he cares about justice?” Benoia said. “Let me disappear among the Daughters of Freya.”

  Norva shook her head. “I cannot speak for Lord Dahleven, but what I do is on my head. I owe the Daughters of Freya too much to repay them by bringing the ire of Lord Dahleven to Lady Solveig’s door. You could run to the Daughters of Freya, but we can’t keep you from your Jarl if he commands your presence. We won’t. We owe Lady Solveig too much.”

  Her foster-daughter pressed her lips together tightly and stared off into the distance. Annikke recognized the look as the one the girl wore when she wanted to argue but recognized it would do her no good. It didn’t mean she’d given up, however.

  “Even if Freya’s Daughters would have you, it wouldn’t be safe to go there now,” Aren said.

  Benoia looked at him with a sullen gaze, but Annikke could see he’d piqued her curiosity.

  “The man who escaped? He surely recognized these women as Daughters of Freya. What other women could have fought s
o well? There’s only one ferry crossing within a week’s travel. Morlegg and his friends will be waiting for you there. But they have no reason to think you’ll go to the Jarl. They won’t look for you on the road to Quartzholm.”

  Benoia looked away again, and Annikke’s heart broke to see a tear roll down her foster-daughter’s cheek.

  “Benoia,” Aren said gently. He waited until she looked at him, then said, “I know you have little reason to trust men, but we are not all like your father or Sveyn. Lord Dahleven has a baby daughter. I do not believe he’ll be able to hear your story without thinking of what justice he’d want for her.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Birdsong began with the first greying of the sky, waking Aren as the day dawned bright and clear. Lady Solveig’s son awoke looking better than he had since Aren had first seen him. As they broke their fast, Vali declared himself fit for travel and Annikke agreed, provided he rest and eat often.

  “I’ll see that he doesn’t overtax himself,” Norva promised.

  The young lord rolled his eyes as he grinned. “You won’t have to, Norva. Mistress Annikke will watch me with Heimdal’s eye.”

  Norva frowned. “They’re off to Quartzholm, my lord. We go to relieve Lady Solveig’s worry in Forsvaremur.”

  Vali shook his head. “Send Kellan and Halageth with that message. I need to speak with Lord Dahleven on behalf of Benoia and Mistress Annikke. If not for their aid and Aren’s, I’d be dead. They helped me not knowing who I was. I owe them.”

  Benoia’s eyes widened. “Thank you.”

  “Aye, my lord. Quartzholm it is, then.” Norva didn’t look displeased.

  Aren nodded. Vali was going to be a fine Jarl when his mother handed over Forsvaremur to him. “Quartzholm is the better choice for you both as well. You made no friend of Morlegg. You won’t surprise him again, and if he is waiting at the ferry, he’ll have more men with him. You’d all be better to return home with a larger escort.”