by A. E. Rayne
‘You’re sure?’ Sigurd was surprised.
‘I wouldn’t, would you? A long march and then a battle?’ Reinar shook his head. ‘He’ll wait till dawn. That’s what I’d do.’
Torvig made his way down the rampart walk towards them, barely looking where he was going, one eye on their enemy in the distance. ‘The hall’s locked down. Bjarni’s taken care of it. Guards inside and out.’
‘Water? Is there enough water?’ Reinar wondered, remembering what Alys had said. ‘Thatch will catch quickly in this wind.’
He was right, Sigurd thought, worried about the hall. Its roof was tiled. Wooden. But it was no less vulnerable to fire than those cottages and outbuildings covered in thatch.
‘Least it’s all a bit soggy after the past few months,’ Torvig mumbled, eyes on the field. ‘That’s filling up fast.’ He could see the banners flying, small as birds beneath the vast expanse of the shadowy forest.
‘Maybe.’ Reinar’s expression barely shifted. ‘But he wouldn’t have come if he didn’t have the men. He’s waited all this time, gathering a big enough army.’
‘And now he’s here,’ Sigurd breathed. ‘He knows we’re weak. He can smell blood.’
‘Well, like his father, he’s a predator, so yes, I imagine he can. But he can also see our walls. These walls have defeated many an army over the years, haven’t they, Brother?’ Reinar turned to Sigurd, patting his shoulder. ‘And they will again.’
The mass of men forming in the distance seemed to halt.
‘Mattias!’ Reinar called. ‘Ring the signal bell. Let’s be ready!’ And eyes immediately back on the army, Reinar ignored his brother’s raised eyebrows. ‘I might be wrong,’ he admitted. ‘They might attack. I’d rather be wrong than make a mistake now, though.’
Sigurd was pleased to hear it. ‘Well, I’ll go, then.’ He felt emotion surging, twitching his body. ‘Good luck, Reinar.’ His brother turned to him again, pulling him into his big arms.
‘And to you. Remember, we’re the Vilanders of Ottby. This bridge has never left our hands. We’ve never broken our oath.’
Sigurd felt Reinar squeeze him tightly, clapping his back, and taking a deep breath, he let go. ‘You think I’d ever forget that?’ And grinning now, he started walking backwards, eyes bright. ‘I’ll see you for our victory feast!’
‘That you will!’ Reinar called after him, watching as Sigurd turned, heading for the stairs. ‘That you will, Brother,’ he breathed, waiting until Sigurd had disappeared, before moving his attention back to their enemy. ‘Are you ready then, Torvig Aleksen? Ready to wipe every last Vettel off the face of the earth for good?’
V
Siege
40
Hakon had thought to attack immediately, but there was still some distance to get within range of the walls, and as they moved forward, he could tell that the field was boggy. Not a place to get stuck in as night was falling. The sky was clear and red-tinged, promising a sharp frost. The morning would provide a better opportunity to begin well.
Lief agreed.
Ivan, Hakon could tell, did not.
‘They know we’re here!’ Ivan insisted as they stood by their horses, debating what to do. Ivan couldn’t believe they were debating anything. It was supposed to be his decision. ‘You’re just giving them time, Hakon. Time to see our strengths.’
Hakon ignored him, turning to Lief. ‘We’ll make camp. Post lookouts. We’ll be at those walls before we next see the sun. Every man will sleep in his armour. Every horse will remain saddled. We’ll be ready to move at a moment’s notice.’
Lief nodded, turning away, black cloak swirling behind him.
Ivan didn’t watch him go. His eyes remained fixed on his cousin.
Hakon felt oddly indecisive. Unexpectedly so. Everything he’d thought of was right before him, all as he’d imagined, but it needed to be perfect. They had not arrived early enough for an attack to be effective, and their first assault would set the tone for the siege, he knew.
That first assault could not be a failure.
‘A good leader can adapt, Ivan,’ he smiled, eyes on a bustling Mother, who was heading their way. ‘You remain in charge, of course, but realise that I will override you when necessary. Such as now. Prepare your men, and yourself. We need a good sleep. A good meal too. It will put our minds and bodies in the perfect position for tomorrow!’
Ivan stared at his cousin with tight lips, jaw clenching, unwilling to speak even one word. It was not the time to argue, nor cause trouble for himself. He knew Hakon well enough to know that he wouldn’t even make it through the night if he made a fuss now. Nodding, he turned away. ‘I’ll see to it.’
They were camped amongst the tall trees, mostly fir and dark, reaching up to the sky, casting shadows over the Slussfall men and women as they worked to erect tents and set fires, before heading to the stream to collect water.
Mother passed Ivan, sensing his tension, hearing the angry words stampeding around his head. ‘You are not attacking?’ She looked at Hakon in surprise. ‘But there is still light!’ Her impatience was surging. After all this waiting, why wait any longer?
‘I am not, no.’ Hakon could sense that he was going to have a lot of trouble if he didn’t assert himself quickly. ‘And as it is neither your decision, nor my cousin’s, I don’t feel the need to explain myself further.’ His eyes were sharp, narrowed on the old woman, who held his stare without blinking.
‘My help and guidance led you to this place, Hakon Vettel,’ Mother hissed, furious at being spoken to as though she was some warrior of no significance.
Some servant who mucked out stables.
She was the most valuable asset Hakon had. How could he not see that?
‘And I am grateful. I don’t deny that your help has been invaluable.’ Hakon didn’t want to have this conversation out in the open, but there was nowhere to go. He tried to lead Mother away from where his steward was organising his tent. ‘But I do not wish to win this war with magic and dreams. You must understand that?’
Mother froze, standing perfectly still as Hakon moved ahead.
Realising it, Hakon turned back to her.
‘You no longer want my help?’
Hakon smiled, wanting to smooth everything over quickly. ‘I do, of course I do! But Mother...’ He took her arm, trying to encourage her to walk with him again. ‘A king must be a man both feared and admired. For his ruthlessness, for his skill, for his legendary feats in battle! I refuse to rule in Stornas as a king who won with magic. As though I was too afraid to use my sword. I will not win victory by cowering behind my dreamer, an old woman!’ Hakon could almost see his father nodding his approval, and he pushed back his shoulders, feeling his confidence surging now. ‘Dreamers are valuable, and I cherish you, I do. All that you’ve done for me?’ Hakon shook his head. ‘I’d still be in Orbo without you. Still trying to find my way here.’ He didn’t believe that, but his eyes were insistent, and his voice was earnest, hoping he’d convinced her.
He hadn’t. ‘I see.’
‘We must fight as equals now, the Vilanders and the Vettels. As our fathers fought. There can be no war of magic, for who would fight on their side? And what use would that be to me?’
‘They have a dreamer! Or have you forgotten?’ Mother snarled.
‘You said she knows nothing. What threat could she be?’ Hakon waited, but Mother didn’t speak, so he started walking again, growing irritable with having to placate the old woman like a parent coaxing a child out of a tantrum. ‘You have done enough, Mother. They are outnumbered. We are strong. You have weakened them, seen ways that we can hurt them. And we will. But now is the time for you to step back. For you to watch.’
Mother was growing more incensed by the moment. ‘Why bring me along, then? Why drag me on this horrific journey, in that prison on wheels if you had no use for me? Why am I here at all?’
Now Hakon squirmed, not wanting to admit the truth. ‘I am not so arrogant to think I won’
t need help.’
Mother’s eyes sharpened. ‘Oh, I see. You will wheel me out if it all goes wrong, will you? Send me into the fray to save you?’
Hakon stared at her. ‘You are my dreamer, Mother. If you no longer wish to hold that position, I cannot force you to stay with me. I wouldn’t. A woman as powerful as you? I don’t imagine I could stop you at all. But if we are to achieve our goal, we must each understand our place.’ Hakon’s voice was heavy; iron striking iron. He wanted her to know that there was no more to say.
No more for her to do, unless by his request.
This was his war to win now.
The signal bells ringing from the walls reignited the panic in the fort; everyone rushing about, wondering what they might have forgotten; wanting to find loved ones to say goodbye to; trying to catch chickens and geese, who flapped around freely, getting in everyone’s way.
Sigurd strode across the square towards the hall where Bjarni was talking to the two guards. ‘Looks as though they’re not coming tonight.’
‘No?’
‘They’ve retreated into the forest, making camp. You can hear it. See glimpses of it.’ Sigurd saw Alys step outside with Agnette, both of them desperate for a breath of fresh air. With the fires burning high and Gerda full of nervous energy, the hall had quickly become oppressive.
The late afternoon air was bitter, and Agnette shivered, tightening her woollen wrap around her belly, anxious eyes searching Sigurd’s face. ‘You’re sure? Sure they’re not coming tonight?’
Sigurd shrugged. ‘No. Might be a trick.’ His eyes met Alys’, looking for some sense of how she saw things. She looked terrified, which didn’t fill him with any confidence. ‘But we’re alert to that. Reinar will stay on the wall most of the night, though I imagine they’ll come early tomorrow, before the sun.’
Bjarni jiggled on the spot, unable to keep still. As much as he wanted to stay with Agnette, keeping her safe, he was desperate to get to the walls to see what was going on with his own eyes. Reinar needed his advice, he told himself, struggling to keep his boots where they were.
Agnette could sense it, and she gripped his hand firmly, eyes sharp. ‘It will be as it will be,’ she insisted. ‘Tonight or at dawn. Whenever they come we’ll be ready for them.’
Sigurd saw the fear in her eyes, and he wondered again at the wisdom of staying. If the reinforcements didn’t arrive, what would happen to Agnette and Gerda? To his helpless father? To Alys?
‘They will come at dawn,’ Alys said quietly. ‘In the dark. I see the sun rising behind them.’
Sigurd blinked, wanting to believe that was true. ‘I’ll get a message to Reinar. Let him know. It gives us more time.’
Bjarni nodded. ‘Hopefully, men from Stornas will come soon.’
Sigurd didn’t reply. His eyes were on Gerda as she pushed open the door, pulling up quickly, surprised to see everyone milling outside the hall.
‘What is it? What’s happening?’
‘Nothing yet, Mother,’ Sigurd promised her. ‘Alys said nothing will happen till dawn.’
Gerda peered at Alys. ‘Well, if you’re that confident in what the dreamer sees, why don’t you all come down off the walls, then? Have some supper? Head for your beds?’
Alys was immediately flustered. ‘Well, I wouldn’t do that. I don’t think everything I see is real.’ That came out wrong, and she cringed, not wanting to say any more.
‘Is that so?’ Gerda snapped. ‘Then how can we believe anything you do say? Any advice you give? How can we?’ She blinked rapidly, eyes jumping back and forth between Alys and Sigurd.
‘No dreamer can guarantee everything, Aunty,’ Agnette said calmly. ‘You know that. They see what they see. We interpret it as we do, hope the worst is not as bad as predicted, and pray the best comes true. You can’t blame Alys for being unsure. She’s new to this.’
‘And we’re lucky to have her,’ Bjarni put in. ‘Reinar certainly thinks so.’
Alys felt embarrassed. ‘I’d better get back to Eddeth.’ And she turned for the doors.
‘Wait, Alys.’ Sigurd touched her arm. ‘I wanted to talk to you.’ He stared at her, eyes flickering nervously, waiting as she turned back around.
She nodded, ignoring a curious Gerda, and followed after Sigurd, who led her away from his family, through the darkening square.
Mother stormed back to Falla and Lotta, bursting with irritation. All her plans, all her hopes, all of them dashed! She was to be put aside. Shut up in her wooden box! Left with the useless women and girls to just twiddle her fingers and clutch her hands, praying the men would save them all.
She kicked out at a branch, grimacing at the pain in her toe.
‘What is it?’ Falla almost didn’t want to ask. She grabbed Lotta, pulling her out of Mother’s way.
‘It?’ Mother spat. ‘It is our noble lord, the little boy named Hakon Vettel. The one I have nurtured and guided and pushed and pulled to this very place. It is that he has chosen to go forward without me now. Without us! As if we have no part to play!’ Her face was quickly turning purple, the whites of her eyes bright and full. She tried to catch her breath, to calm down, realising belatedly that they were not as alone as she’d imagined. Lotta was peering up at her, watching in horror. Falla’s mouth hung open, not sure whether she should attempt to calm Mother down, but taking a quick breath, Mother tried to do it herself. ‘We shall hold our place,’ she insisted. ‘Here. Here is where we shall be. Ready to act. For I guarantee you that boy is going to need my help soon.’ Her eyes were on Lotta, darkening now. ‘And when he calls on me, I shall be ready.’ Turning away from their campsite, Mother stomped towards the wagon, wanting to collect her things. She would need her book. Her stones. Her herbs. Her raven.
She would be ready. Waiting.
For the time would come when she would be required to act, whether Hakon Vettel realised it or not.
Sigurd walked Alys to Valera’s Tree.
People milled around it, but no one stood beneath its branches, or near its broad trunk. There was a quietness here, an almost private place, where the branches hung low, keeping them hidden. Sigurd glanced around, uncomfortable with asking for help. He told himself that he wouldn’t believe anything she said anyway, but he had to know. ‘Do you see Stornas men coming? Perhaps Algeir didn’t send any? He’s always been a tight-fisted bastard, and without Ake in Stornas to guide him...’
Alys scratched her nose. ‘I haven’t seen any sign of them, no.’
‘Oh.’ Sigurd dropped his head.
‘But, that’s not to say they won’t come,’ Alys insisted, touching his arm. ‘There are many things to see. Too many. I can’t see them all. I feel things, sense them floating just out of reach. Sometimes they drift into my mind. Other times I feel I must sleep to find them.’
Sigurd stared into her eyes, lost for a moment. ‘I don’t know what to believe. Ragnahild One Eye? What I see with my own eyes? You?’ He felt disloyal for being there, as though he was going behind Reinar’s back. Though Reinar would never talk of doubts, he would never speak of running. But Sigurd had to ask. ‘Should we leave?’
Alys knew Lotta was out there. The dreamer had her.
She did not want to run away from her daughter.
But if they stayed and were all killed? How would she ever get Lotta back then?
‘Reinar believes the walls will hold.’
‘And you, Alys? What do you believe?’
Alys’ shoulders slumped. ‘I fear they will not.’
All the air left Sigurd’s body in a great rush. He nodded, turning away. ‘You need to find answers. You need to find a dream.’
Alys watched him go, hearing the tree rustle above her head as the cold wind strengthened, branches rasping like angry voices. She closed her eyes, listening, wanting to hear something useful, some sign as to what was coming. But all she saw was the same thing: fire and chaos; screaming men rushing through the fort.
Tulia’s face.
Ope
ning her eyes, Alys looked down as Winter wrapped himself around her legs. She bent down, picking him up, pleased to see him, but he wriggled out of her arms quickly, skipping away.
Alys watched as he stopped, turning his head to her.
And blinking in surprise, she followed him.
Hakon’s men seemed happy for the rest, though he saw the hunger for battle burning in their eyes as he walked around the fires with Lief and Ivan, ensuring they all had enough to eat; that their weapons were sharpened, their horses secure.
The smell of roasting meat and rich stews wafted towards them, and Hakon felt ill. He was neither hungry nor tired. He did not want to rest or sit. He barely wanted to speak to another soul, but he knew that a lord must be seen to care, to be interested. For if that lord wanted men to sacrifice their lives for him, he had to be worth sacrificing for.
‘The weather appears to be holding,’ Lief murmured, eager to get back to Falla. He was glad he’d brought her along; surprised he felt so strongly about having her close. But then he remembered the baby, and his heart swelled. It would not be easy to leave her. Fear that he would not see his child born started to take shape in his mind, and he blinked it away quickly, not wanting to even consider such a fate.
‘Lief?’ Hakon asked again. ‘Do you agree?’
Lief nodded, though he had only been half listening. ‘It is a smart plan, my lord. Not something they will be expecting, I hope.’
‘You hope? You think they’ve had word?’
Lief shook his head. ‘No, but they have a dreamer, don’t they? Who knows what she may have seen.’
It was true, Hakon realised, his confidence shaken. ‘We’ll have to ensure we’re on our way well before dawn, then.’
Ivan had not said a word. Not a single word since they’d started walking the camp. He’d ensured lookouts were stationed all around them. He’d sent men further into the forest, looking for spies from the fortress, searching for any clandestine attack. He didn’t imagine he’d find any, for Reinar Vilander wouldn’t have a man to spare. Not after Mother had had her way with Ottby. So Ivan had listened, letting his temper simmer at a steady heat while Hakon entertained himself talking to Lief. Though, eventually, it proved impossible to hold his tongue. ‘They’ll still expect us.’
