by A. E. Rayne
Bjarni laughed as Torvig arrived looking surprised. ‘What’s so funny? With all those warriors leaving? I can’t believe there’s anything funny to find about today.’
‘Tulia wants to train the Ullaberg women.’
Torvig looked bemused. ‘Train them to do what?’
‘Fight,’ Tulia said, perfectly serious. ‘Why not?’
‘The women?’ Torvig was incredulous.
Amir joined his sister, laughing at the look on Torvig’s face. ‘In Kalmera, the women fight. As many as the men. We grow up with weapons in our hands. All of us.’
‘That may be so,’ Reinar mused, eyes on Alys, who was walking with one of the women. ‘But Kalmeran women are raised as warriors, like Tulia. Those women...’ And he pointed in the direction of the slow-moving gaggle. ‘I don’t expect they’ve ever done more with a knife than gut a fish.’
Amir couldn’t deny that that was likely true. They were all shapes and sizes, from teenagers to middle-aged, but the Ullaberg women all had one thing in common: they looked defeated.
And he couldn’t blame them for that.
‘Well, it’s a start.’ Tulia was tired of waiting for everything to fall apart. She still had a decision to make about leaving, but while she made up her mind, it wouldn’t hurt to get the women training. It would give her something to do that didn’t feel like a complete waste of time. ‘And what do you have to lose, Reinar? If you’re going to stay here and face Hakon Vettel, you can’t do it on your own.’
Torvig snorted, turning to Reinar as Tulia strode away, Amir following her. ‘You aren’t going to listen to her, are you? Reinar!’ He shook his head at the sheer madness of it all. ‘We captured them as slaves. They’re not warriors. You may as well put Agnette and Gerda out there!’
Bjarni laughed. ‘I’d like to see what Agnette could do with a knife, though I don’t imagine she could see over her belly to do much damage at the moment!’
‘No, she’d be better with a spear,’ Sigurd grinned, not imagining Reinar would take Tulia’s suggestion seriously; surprised when he caught a glimpse of his brother’s face as he turned around.
And started walking towards Alys.
Who was walking with Stina.
‘And you saw that?’ Stina had not slept a wink and her eyes hurt. She had her hand through Alys’ arm, feeling her shiver. ‘You saw the wolf was just a nightmare? A nightmare we were all trapped in?’
Alys felt awkward; her eyes were up, watching Tulia and her brother approach with Reinar. Stina, she knew, was desperate for her company. Reinar wanted to know what would happen to the fort. And all Alys wanted to do was run back to the cottage and dream about her children. ‘I read it in a book,’ she mumbled, sensing that she wasn’t going to like whatever Tulia was about to say.
‘They look handy enough,’ Tulia said, turning to Reinar, who stood beside her, legs slightly spread in that dominant stance of his, eyeing the women, head cocked to one side.
‘Handy? Well, I’d be interested to see what you can do with them. I imagine you’d like to prove Torvig wrong?’ He enjoyed the puzzled look on Alys’ face. ‘You get to work with them. Alys, you come with me. There’s something I want to show you.’
Stina was reluctant to be left alone with the warrior woman, who was staring at her intensely, but she let go of Alys and swallowed.
‘We’re going to train you!’ Tulia announced, already up for the challenge. The Ullaberg women appeared to have barely a muscle between them, though those arms had been lugging children and animals and sacks of grain for years.
Perhaps a bow wouldn’t be too much hard work?
‘Train us for what?’ Ilene wondered, hands on hips, eyes on Amir.
Tulia smiled.
Jonas rode with certainty, knowing this road better than any other. He had visited Vik frequently over the years, especially after the death of his wife. He could have ridden it with his eyes closed. And after a wild night of freezing wind and rain, his eyes were heavy from lack of sleep, ready to close at any moment. But he thought of Alys and those children, and he kept going, resisting the urge to stop.
His horse, Klippr, was even-tempered and loyal, chestnut brown and big-bellied, with a white star between his gentle eyes. They had both had a soft life since they’d stopped fighting. Jonas imagined that Klippr missed it as much as he did. He’d seemed happy for an adventure that took them further afield than the forest around Vik’s cottage. His ears were alert, and his energy appeared renewed.
Jonas smiled, wishing he could say the same.
He blinked, trying to wake himself up, his stomach suggesting that he should have rationed more for breakfast.
It was going to be a long day.
There was a village half a day’s ride away. Magnus couldn’t hear the name of it; the men mumbled as they spoke, and Eye Patch had almost lost his voice. He appeared to be getting sicker, though that was the last thing Magnus was worried about, as the men had argued and compromised and agreed to sell him and keep Lotta.
It wasn’t really a compromise, Eye Patch realised with a surly look, eyeing the little girl, who no one wanted to be lugging about. No one but Long Beard, who wouldn’t be moved. He had a wife, a strange bitch, who hadn’t been able to give him any more children after their daughter had died. In Long Beard’s warped mind, the girl would make up for it, so he was not about to let her go.
Silver Tooth didn’t care either way. Once they were rid of the whining boy, they’d be able to move quickly. They could sell the ponies too. Likely they’d earn more coins from that transaction than whatever Hakon Vettel planned to pay them. For all his ambition and wealth, he was a miserly young lord, just as his cruel father had been.
Sometimes, Silver Tooth thought about killing him.
It was always the same: the high born rising to their positions on the backs of those who scraped through the dirt just trying to survive.
He spat on the ground, hands on the reins, feeling the boy wriggling before him. ‘Won’t be long now. We’ll find someone new to take you. Better than being abandoned by your parents.’ He didn’t know if that was true. ‘Why were you riding alone, then? You don’t look starved or too raggedy. Did you run away?’
‘Our father was killed. Our mother was taken by raiders.’
Silver Tooth knew how that went. He couldn’t even remember his mother’s name. It had been too many years since he’d lost her now.
‘Well, now you’ll have a new home. Think yourself lucky, you could be going to Ulrick’s house! His wife’s a witch for sure. With a nose like this.’ And he lifted his left hand in the air, making a curved shape, his voice rasping in Magnus’ ear. ‘Warts all over it. One eye going this way, one eye going that!’ Silver Tooth laughed, and it rattled in his chest. They were riding behind Long Beard and Lotta. Eye Patch rode further back, struggling to stay upright now.
Magnus was feeling worse by the moment.
He wanted to see Lotta, but she was riding in front of Long Beard whose mountainous body shielded her from view.
‘Maybe you can escape one day?’ Silver Tooth considered, a flicker of empathy in his voice. ‘Go to Slussfall and find her? Though by then we’ll probably be in Stornas. Or Ottby.’ He laughed again, just thinking of it. They had been in Orbo with Jesper Vettel, ending up in Slussfall with his only son. Turning around, checking on Eye Patch, who was bent over, coughing, he wondered how much more was left in them. And clicking his tongue, turning his horse after Long Beard, he sighed. ‘Won’t be long now.’
Alys felt impatient as she stepped into Reinar’s bedchamber, wanting to get back to the book and her dreams. Nothing more had come to her about the children, and she’d woken up feeling a sense of panic that would not abate, exacerbated by hunger and lack of sleep. Worry for herself too.
‘I thought you should have a new dress,’ Reinar said awkwardly, pointing to the bed. He had laid a selection of Elin’s dresses across the furs. ‘Since you tore your own to pieces for my brother. Since
you helped me last night.’ He nudged a speechless Alys towards the bed. ‘There are shoes too. Boots. I know Agnette gave you a pair, but I imagine she’ll need them back soon. Winter can be hard here. And my wife...’ It hurt to speak about Elin. ‘She doesn’t appear to need them.’
Alys ran a hand over a green dress.
She liked green. It was brighter than her own faded dress which she’d worn for more years than she could remember. Her husband had rarely allowed her to have new clothes. And though it didn’t bother her, the thought of wearing something different was oddly appealing. She wanted to burn her old dress; rid herself of the memory of Arnon tearing it off her.
‘You can take them to your cottage. Whatever you like. Take them. There are more in the chests. Take whatever you need.’ Reinar was quickly changing his mind. He turned away, not wanting to look at the dresses anymore. ‘I have to get back to the square before Tulia kills one of your friends.’
‘What?’ Alys spun around after him. ‘Kills?’
Reinar grinned, hand on the door. ‘Oh yes, she plans to turn you all into an army. An army of women. Just what I need to defend us against the Vettels’ skilled warriors. We should be unstoppable!’ And grinning, he slipped through the door.
Alys was too surprised to move. She stared after Reinar for some time, trying to imagine Stina or Jorunn wielding a sword. Ilene always looked ready to kill someone, so she might be useful, but the others?
‘I thought I saw Reinar,’ Agnette muttered, coming into the chamber with a frown. ‘Not that he’s talking to me yet, but I wanted to talk to him. We need to make some decisions, so he can’t be a child –’ She stopped suddenly, staring at the bed. ‘What are Elin’s clothes doing out?’
Alys blushed. ‘Reinar said I could take them. But I...’
Agnette waddled to the bed, remembering when she had almost stood a chance of fitting into one of Elin’s beautiful gowns, though Elin was taller than her, broader too, and they would have swamped her tiny frame. ‘You should. You should, Alys. Elin will not return.’
‘You’re that sure?’
Agnette nodded. ‘She loved Reinar since we were children. They were inseparable. But when she lost her babies, it broke her heart, and she blamed Reinar. She will never forgive him, I promise, so take all the clothes you like.’ She grimaced, gripping her belly.
‘Are you alright?’
‘Baby pains,’ Agnette grinned. ‘Eddeth says it’s perfectly normal. What I should expect now as I get closer.’
She looked anxious, though, Alys thought. ‘You’re worried?’
‘About giving birth while we’re under attack from wolves and dreamers and armies from the North?’ Agnette shook her head, trying to smile. Her face fell, though, and she sat down on the bed with a thump, moving the green dress away. ‘This baby has been years in the making. Eight. Eight long years we’ve waited. I thought Bjarni might give up on me. Or I on him. And now we’re so close. But everything’s gone wrong. Salma, the dreamer, she couldn’t see anything for me. She couldn’t tell me whether it would go well...’
Alys sensed what was coming next, and she wanted to help, but there was just so much she needed to be dreaming of now. ‘I will try... to see something,’ she said nonetheless. ‘Though, I’m new to being a dreamer. Out in the open, at least.’
Agnette’s curiosity quickly overwhelmed her anxiety. ‘Why? Why were you a secret dreamer?’ She patted the bed for Alys to join her, and reluctantly, Alys did.
It was difficult to dredge up the long-buried past, but secrets were becoming hard to keep in Ottby. ‘My grandmother was a dreamer from Tuura. She studied in the great temple before leaving for Alekka with her family. She met my grandfather, and they settled in Torborg. That’s where my mother was born. Where I was born too.’ Alys felt herself drifting back to when she was a girl. To before everything had gone wrong. ‘My mother was the village dreamer, though the lady of the village did not like her. She didn’t like dreamers at all. Bit by bit, she turned everyone against my mother until they accused her of being a witch. Until they killed her.’
Agnette’s eyes were round with horror. ‘Oh. And what about you? What did they think about you?’
‘I was very young. Not a dreamer yet.’ Alys swallowed, wondering what was real and what were stories. She had told herself so many stories over the years. About what had happened to her mother. About why she couldn’t believe in her dreams. ‘I was left with my grandparents, and when my dreams came to me, my grandfather told me that I could never reveal what I was. People were changing, he said. Some did not believe in the wisdom of dreamers anymore. They saw them as both valuable and dangerous. He made me hide my gifts, wanting to protect me.’
Agnette could see how upset Alys was becoming. ‘I’m sorry about that. There are some who don’t believe, I know. Sigurd never has. Tulia certainly doesn’t.’ She scowled just thinking about Tulia. ‘But many still do, Alys. You’ve helped Reinar, and you saved Bjarni, I know that. If you hadn’t seen those ships coming, they’d likely all be dead now, and I’d be facing this alone.’ She rubbed her hands over her belly, trying to quell her rising panic. ‘I have to get back to Stellan. And you need to get changed.’ Agnette struggled back to her feet, motioning to Alys’ torn dress. ‘It’s time for you to look like a dreamer.’
III
Broken Parts
19
Akaby was more of a road bordered by a few neglected shacks than a village.
It did not look promising.
Though when Long Beard lifted his eyes and squinted, he could see farmsteads in the distance, and those farmers appeared to have land aplenty.
Rich men.
Men in need of a useful little slave. Perhaps a fat pony too?
He glanced down at Lotta, her hair shimmering in the sunshine. It felt warm against his chest, and he was reminded of his wife and his hearth and his comfortable chair. He felt ready to get home, certain that Hakon would be eager to hear his news.
Turning back to Silver Tooth, he inclined his head towards a narrow path. ‘Might have more luck down there. But let’s stop, see what we can sniff out here first. Stretch our legs. I’m sure we can find a taker for the boy and the ponies.’ Long Beard felt Lotta stiffen in his arms. ‘Just the one pony. We’ll keep yours.’
Lotta loved her pony, but she loved her brother more, and the idea that these horrible, stinking men were about to sell him terrified her. She had hoped to have a useful dream, though she’d dreamed of nothing that would help her save Magnus. Turning to the left, she saw her brother trying to wriggle away from Silver Tooth, who had a firm grip on him, leather-covered arm tight across Magnus’ chest.
Eye Patch was further back, coughing uncontrollably now.
‘You don’t need to sell my brother,’ she tried. ‘He will be useful to you.’
Long Beard laughed. ‘Useful? How?’
‘He knows how to shoot an arrow. And he can fish. He can use a spear and a sword too.’
Long Beard winked at Silver Tooth. ‘You think he could be a warrior? Fight for Hakon Vettel?’
Lotta didn’t know who that was. ‘He could care for your weapons and your horses. He could help you!’
Silver Tooth seemed intrigued by the idea, but Long Beard snorted. ‘You think I need another mouth to feed? No, I’m not a rich man with a hall. You’ll come in handy, but your brother? He’ll give us silver. And a man is always in need of silver.’
Long Beard’s voice rasped in Lotta’s ear like a whetstone running down a blade, and she shrank away from him, wanting to get off the horse; wanting his hand away from her waist. She felt tears coming. But tears wouldn’t save Magnus either.
So squeezing her eyes shut, peering into the darkness, Lotta tried to find an answer.
Alys walked towards the training ring, feeling uncomfortable. Everyone stared at her, which made her feel even worse. She wanted to turn back to the hall, change out of Elin Vilander’s beautiful clothes and put her own back on. They were
ripped and ruined, filthy with dirt and blood, but they made her feel so much more like herself than Elin’s dress, which was made of warm wool, dyed green, embroidered with golden flowers around the neckline and hem, which Alys tried to pick out of the mud, to no avail.
‘Well, I’m not sure you’re dressed for training,’ Sigurd said, eyes sharp, trying not to stare. He could hear Tulia behind him, bellowing at the Ullaberg women, who were so far not at all interested in becoming warriors.
‘Me?’ Alys was surprised. She shook her head. ‘I don’t think your brother would want me to train. I... I’m supposed to help him with dreams.’
‘Yes, you are,’ Reinar agreed, coming up behind her, trying to ignore the conflicting feelings about Elin’s dress. It was important to move forward, he knew, to focus on saving the fort and his people; to protect the bridge and beat back whatever challenge Hakon Vettel would throw at them next. Though his heart broke at the sight of Alys wearing that dress. ‘But you should also know how to fight. Why not?’
Alys spun around, panicking, and Reinar blinked. The dress suited her more than he thought possible. Her skin was light and freckled, her long hair golden, the complete opposite of his wife, and though it had always suited Elin, the dress appeared to have been made with Alys in mind. Everything about it accentuated her natural beauty.
Clearing his throat, Reinar glanced at his brother. ‘Though, what use they’re all going to be, I don’t know.’ He turned back to Alys. ‘Can you use a weapon? Anything?’
Alys squirmed. ‘I can use a... bow.’
Sigurd looked surprised.
Reinar was pleased. ‘Good, well that should make Tulia’s job easier. She seems to be having no luck with your friends so far.’ He saw Torvig motioning him towards the armourer’s hut. ‘Sigurd, take her to Tulia. I have to have a word with Torvig. And meet me up on the inner wall when you’re done. We need to make a plan for tonight.’
