by A. E. Rayne
Sigurd had been hoping to find a bench, wanting to take the weight off his aching leg for a while, but he nodded, ushering Alys forward. ‘Perhaps you should change?’ he asked, staring at the green dress, but Alys shook her head, just wanting to get it over with. ‘Tulia! Another victim for you!’ And limping forward, he almost had to drag a reluctant Alys towards the training ring.
Tulia’s grin was cat-like. ‘So, Reinar is letting me play with his dreamer? Well, I’m sure we’ll have some fun.’
‘She knows how to use a bow.’
‘Oh?’ Tulia’s dark eyebrows rose in surprise. The dreamer looked as timid as an old woman. She was thin. There didn’t appear to be enough strength in her arms to throw a spoon. ‘Well, come, show us what you can do, dreamer.’
Alys glanced at Sigurd, wanting an escape, but he encouraged her to slip through the railings, while he leaned over them, taking the weight off his injured leg. His eyes drifted to where a red-faced Ludo was trying to teach a group of five women how to hold their bows.
They had plenty of bows in the fort. Buckets of arrows.
Just not enough men to shoot them anymore.
Sigurd wondered what Tulia was thinking, his eyes back on her as she left Alys to choose her bow, and came to join him at the railings.
‘I know that look,’ she smiled. ‘I like that look. It’s very motivating.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You, thinking I can’t do this. That they can’t do this. I like proving you wrong. And I will.’
‘That wasn’t my look.’
‘No?’
Sigurd leaned towards her, touching her face. ‘My look was that I’m glad you’re still here, training them.’ And he nodded towards the shellshocked women. ‘I believe you can.’
‘Ha!’ Tulia was dismissive. ‘So your lips say, but your eyes tell a different story. Besides...’ she murmured, letting him kiss her, ‘I won’t be here for long, Sigurd Vilander, know that. This fort will be empty soon, and those who are left will be dead before winter. And I won’t let my brother become one of them.’ Her face hardened as she stepped back through the mud. ‘I will train these women, and they will help us, but for how long? More men will leave, the women will die, and the fort will stand for a time... and then what?’ She spun around, black hair swirling behind her as she strode towards Alys, who held a bow now, looking nervous. Tulia glanced over her shoulder, eyeing Sigurd, wishing she could get through to him. ‘And then what?’
Jonas had lost his wife and daughter both. He had lost his beloved granddaughter to a man he feared was not treating her well. And now, her children appeared to be lost to the wind.
He sat on his horse, staring at the blackened remains of his old cottage, wondering what to do.
He tried to convince himself that it had only been a dream. Dreams came and went nightly without him feeling the need to cling to them; without believing they were sent by a dreamer. So why had he left Vik and travelled back to Torborg? Why was he sitting on his old horse like an old fool?
It was a good question, and the answer was staring him in the face.
Because he knew the difference.
As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he knew the difference.
Jonas turned Klippr’s head, aiming him in the direction of the trees. His abandoned farm had plenty of land, though it was overgrown and neglected now. He had given his livestock away to his neighbours and taken the remains of his stores up to Vik’s.
Perhaps he would ask around? See if anyone had seen two children?
His throat tightened as he nudged Klippr on.
Wondering what had happened to Alys.
Tulia had been distracted by one of the women, who had tried to run. And leaving Alys with Stina, she’d stormed out of the training ring to yell at Ludo for letting her escape.
‘I can’t do it,’ Stina fretted, mud up her legs, shivering. The clouds hung low over the fort, a dirty grey colour, and the mud was freezing. ‘I can’t even bring the bow back. How can I possibly shoot an arrow?’
Alys leaned her own bow against the railings and tried to show her.
The training ring was big, and Tulia and Amir had quickly cleared everyone out, which hadn’t taken long – more warriors were leaving the fort than wishing to train – and they’d lined up the targets along one end, sending the women back to the other.
‘It takes practice to bend it,’ Alys said quietly, picking up Stina’s bow and showing her how to draw back her arm, fingers and elbow working hard, back muscles flexing. She loosened her hold, handing the bow back to Stina. ‘It takes practice.’
Stina nodded, not convinced that practice would have any impact on her ability to use the bow, but she tried again and found that she could pull the bowstring back further this time. ‘So you’re an archer as well as a dreamer?’ she smiled, kind eyes on her friend. ‘My mysterious Alys. Why so many secrets?’
Alys shrugged, glancing at Tulia, who was trekking back to her, almost eager for the distraction. Her family was full of secrets, she knew. Though she wasn’t sure she knew why.
‘You,’ Tulia grumbled, pointing at Alys, ‘go and practice. And you,’ she said, eyeing Stina, ‘go with the others who can’t even wrangle a bow yet.’ And she pointed them in opposite directions, turning to Amir. ‘There are smaller bows, Brother! Try to find them! Ask Bjarni!’
Bjarni was trying to teach his group of women how to hold a spear. He was distracted, half of him not seeing any point in wasting their time. The other half wanting to know what Torvig was talking to Reinar about.
He didn’t trust Torvig, though Reinar had always held him in high regard. But that was likely just because he was Elin’s brother. And since her disappearance, Reinar had drawn himself even closer to his brother-in-law, seeking his advice more often than Bjarni thought was sensible.
One of the women dropped her spear on his foot, and Bjarni blinked, turning around in surprise. ‘You don’t want to drop a weapon!’ he groused. ‘Not one with a spearhead attached!’ He wasn’t usually bad-tempered, but lack of sleep, worry about his pregnant wife, and the impending doom they were all facing had him on edge. He scratched his sand-coloured hair, looking sheepish. ‘If you’re on the ramparts, if you’re in the square, you can launch a spear a great distance. It’s something you can use effectively without needing to get into a fight.’ He took a breath, trying to sound more sympathetic. The women were no warriors, and he was no teacher. Though, perhaps, he realised, glancing at the straggle of men dragging their sea chests into the square, perhaps Tulia was right, and the women of Ullaberg were their only hope now?
Silver Tooth and Long Beard had left the children in a wooded area with Eye Patch, who was too ill to follow them around. They’d tied them up first, though, worried that he might simply drop dead and let them run off.
Eye Patch scowled, his one eye on the whimpering girl, who was wriggling against her ropes. ‘You want to run, princess? You think I won’t hurt you?’
His voice rasped, and Lotta could hear the threat in it.
The sound of approaching death too.
Magnus could see the sword Eye Patch was sharpening, the glint of it winking in the sunshine. He nudged his sister’s shoulder, trying to get her to stay still. ‘We just have to be patient,’ he whispered. He didn’t know what else to say, not feeling like a leader at all.
Lotta looked cross. ‘They will leave you here, and I’ll never see you again.’ She was worried about her brother more than herself. ‘And Daisy too. Maybe they’ll eat them? It doesn’t look like a nice sort of place.’
‘Will you shut up!’ Eye Patch growled, wanting some peace. They were continually nattering, and though he knew they were not being loud, their voices sounded like bells clanging inside his aching head. He was shaking uncontrollably now, his body alternating between being unbearably hot, then so cold it was as though he had fallen into the sea.
Lotta shrank back against the tree, watching Eye Patch’s eye clos
e. She bumped her shoulder against Magnus, wondering if she could communicate with him. But he already appeared to know what she was thinking as he wriggled his bound hands, trying to loosen the knots.
Tulia stood behind her, watching, and Alys gulped, one eye closed.
Her grandfather had taught her many things over the years, including how to use a bow, though she’d always had little confidence in her abilities. Thoughts of her grandfather led to thoughts of her children, and Alys froze, sensing Tulia’s impatience grow.
‘Perhaps the target is too far away?’ Tulia’s accent was strong, and her voice was cold. ‘Perhaps you can’t use a bow at all, dreamer?’
Alys didn’t care to show her either way, but she was never going to get out of the freezing mud if she didn’t fire the arrow. So, aiming for the target, some fifty paces in the distance, Alys released the arrow, feeling the whoosh of the fletching as it flew away from her.
She stood back, head cocked to one side, watching as it hit the skin-wrapped shield, just inside the rim. Frowning, Alys turned back for another arrow, unhappy with that effort.
‘Not bad!’ Sigurd called from the railings. He was impressed. No one else had even managed to get their arrows to fly yet.
Tulia eyed him. ‘Have you nothing better to do?’
And shrugging, Sigurd realised that he could be more useful elsewhere. He headed for Torvig and Reinar, loudly arguing with the armourer, who appeared to have packed his bags.
Sigurd was surprised, and he hobbled more quickly. ‘What are you doing, Oki? You can’t leave!’
Reinar agreed. ‘I’ve been trying to tell him that, but Mariana wants to go, doesn’t she?’
Oki nodded. ‘She does. I can’t make her stay, Sigurd. You must understand that. Mariana’s held on all these months. I told her it would get better. When we tempted more men to join us, I thought it would get better, but it’s only gotten worse. And now with Ulura coming...’
Sigurd was quickly exasperated. ‘It wasn’t Ulura! There was no wolf. No wolf at all. Ask Reinar! He went out there. You all saw that. There was no wolf!’
‘Well, what I think and what Mariana thinks are two different things, it seems. Though, if you’re saying it’s only a dreamer trying to trick us, it makes you wonder what this dreamer is capable of? I’m sure I saw a wolf. I saw fur. I heard it. We all did.’ Oki was a big man with a flat nose, enormous arms, and a strong, barrel-like chest, but he looked ashen-faced and worried. ‘What else is Hakon’s dreamer capable of?’ He said this to Reinar, who ignored him, turning to Torvig.
‘I’ve had enough of this!’ And striding away from Oki, Reinar headed to the hall, needing to think.
The ale tasted like piss, Silver Tooth thought, draining his cup. Though after so many days on the road, he’d stopped caring. His throat was bone dry, and no matter how much he drank, it never improved. He swallowed, realising that it was starting to hurt too.
The farmer they’d come across appeared a generous sort, and as they stood in front of his large house discussing terms for the boy, he’d ordered his snarling wife to provide them with a tray of pickled herring and flatbreads. A jug of ale too. They’d been grateful for both, though the flatbreads were mouldy, hard to swallow, and as for the ale...
‘Perhaps you’d find some use for a little girl too?’ Silver Tooth wondered, watching the farmer’s wife, who was red-cheeked and frowning as she sat on the porch, churning milk into butter.
Long Beard growled, eyes suddenly sharp, though the farmer shook his bald head, a dirty hand around his cup of ale, cradling it with affection.
‘My wife and daughter cope well enough with the house. It’s the fields I need a hand with. The pony will be useful, and the boy. Come spring, I’ll have them both out there, tilling the earth.’ He pointed to a flat field which had been stripped of most of its crops now. ‘My old horse dropped dead last month, so we chopped her up, salted and dried her. She was a good horse, and now she’ll keep us fed over winter. You say the boy doesn’t eat much?’ He was a rotund, middle-aged man, worn down by life; stuck on the outskirts of a tiny village with just his wife and daughter for company. Not a moment to himself. No peace at all. His back ached, his legs ached, but most of all, his ears ached from his wife’s constant nagging, so he looked at the boy with some interest, keen for the help.
Long Beard nodded. ‘He’s strong enough, but he’s got the appetite of an old woman. He won’t need much to keep him going.’
Silver Tooth caught a glimpse of an ugly girl crossing the yard in a dirty dress. He winked at her, and she stared at him, gaps in her teeth, chicken under one arm, axe in hand. It had been a long time since he’d seen a woman, and his body responded with urgency, his boots scuffing the dirt, considering things.
Long Beard placed a hand on his arm. ‘We’ll get going and gather the boy and the pony. I’ll bring them back, and we can make our trade, friend.’ He eyed the farmer, who seemed wary but enthusiastic.
Not many strangers came his way. Most of the villagers had left, struggling to survive in these challenging times. He’d been thinking for weeks that he’d have to try and head for a town, see what help he could find or buy.
These strangers had brought him some luck indeed.
‘Go kill that chicken, girl!’ he grumbled, flapping a hand at his daughter, who had stopped, still staring at Silver Tooth.
Silver Tooth, irritated by the hand on his arm, eyed Long Beard in surprise.
‘We’ll return shortly,’ Long Beard smiled. ‘Perhaps in time for supper?’
The man looked less than keen for the extra mouths, though his gap-toothed daughter grinned at Silver Tooth, excited by the prospect of some company.
Magnus doubted Eye Patch was asleep.
The three men were hardened warriors. Experienced. Well-travelled. Not foolish enough to sleep on the job. Surely?
Perhaps it was a trap?
Eye Patch would lie his head back against the tree, close his eye, make some sleeping noises, encouraging them to escape. And then he would leap up and attack them. Hurt them.
Magnus didn’t want to take the chance, but he’d slipped out of his ropes, and now he could run away. Ride away. The ponies were there. He could hear them snuffling nearby, searching for crabapples.
Lotta bumped his arm, struggling with her ropes. Magnus bent down to help her, and within moments, she too was free. ‘We can ride away,’ Lotta whispered in her brother’s ear.
Magnus thought he saw Eye Patch stir.
The men had taken Magnus’ knives, and he had nothing to protect them with, but he could see Eye Patch’s sword lying across his lap, whetstone in his other hand. Keeping his eyes on the man, Magnus nodded at his sister. ‘You must be quiet, Lotta. Follow me. And watch your feet. Don’t make a sound.’
Magnus’ heart was in his mouth. He could barely breathe as he stepped away from the tree, eyes on Eye Patch before spinning around silently, heading for the ponies. He would have to untie them too. He could hear Lotta behind him. ‘Wait there,’ he whispered. ‘I’ll get the ponies ready.’ And turning back around, he reached for Daisy’s rope, fumbling with frozen fingers, trying to loosen it quickly. His ears were open, listening for any noises: for Long Beard returning, for Eye Patch stirring. He heard nothing but the cheerful sound of willow tits and winter jays above, calling to each other; squirrels and mice shuffling around the forest floor, foraging for bugs and nuts; a stream babbling nearby; his growling stomach.
And then the ropes came undone, and Daisy whinnied loudly, excited to be heading off for a ride. Magnus froze, head spinning, but Eye Patch was still leaning against the tree, eye closed, head drooping to one side. Turning back around, he gave Daisy’s rope to Lotta to hold while he worked to free Clover. And in no time at all, both ponies were ready to go.
Magnus felt sick. He didn’t know where they were, or where they should go to get away before Long Beard returned, but he looked at Lotta and knew that it didn’t matter.
They jus
t had to leave.
And then a yelp.
And spinning around, Magnus came face to face with Silver Tooth’s sword tip, watching as Long Beard dragged Lotta and her pony away.
‘And where do you think you’re going, little friend?’ Silver Tooth wondered, teeth bared.
Long Beard ignored the squealing Lotta as he yanked her towards Eye Patch, kicking his leg. ‘Some fucking guard you are!’ he grumbled, watching in horror as Eye Patch tumbled over, falling to the ground, eye still closed, lips blue. ‘Well, more coins for us!’ he grinned at Silver Tooth. ‘Come on, get the boy on your horse. I’m in the mood for some chicken!’
20
Reinar sat before his father, just the two of them, alone in Stellan’s chamber. The fire blazed away beside them, and Reinar removed his cloak, trying to think. Sometimes he wished he could reach into his father and bring him back. Stellan would blink and stare at him as though he was there, and Reinar’s hopes would rise, but in the next moment, he would slump back into his chair, gone again, eyes unable to focus, just staring into the distance, one side of his face oddly limp.
Stellan Vilander had ruled Ottby for just shy of twenty years when his wife discovered him having some sort of seizure in their chamber. No one knew what had happened, but that once reassuring presence in the hall, at the high table, on the ramparts and on the battlefield, had vanished in a heartbeat, and Ottby was less safe because of it.
Nothing had gone right since that moment.
Though Reinar had been raised as Stellan’s heir, he hadn’t imagined assuming that position while his father lived. He touched Stellan’s arm, wanting his father to see him, but he didn’t move.
‘You made a promise to Ake to stay here and hold the bridge.’ He thought he saw his father twitch. ‘But I don’t know how we can continue to hold on. Everyone’s leaving. Everyone. Even Oki Halbor!’ Reinar slammed his fist onto the chair arm, not sure who he was mad at. ‘A dreamer is causing havoc. Playing games. Giving us nightmares. Everyone thinks Vasa is coming. They believe they heard her wolf, so they’re leaving. And now Tulia’s out there trying to train the women I captured. Turn them into archers.’ Reinar dropped his head to his hands, sighing. ‘The right thing to do...’ he muttered. ‘What is the right thing to do?’ And then he felt a hand on his head, and he stilled beneath it as his father stroked his hair. Stellan paused, moving his shaking hand down to Reinar’s chin, lifting it up.
