by A. E. Rayne
‘But...’
Mother held up a sooty hand. ‘They will care nothing for excuses. Perhaps they will listen, nod, agree, that of course you had been poisoned, tricked and cursed. But they will grumble to each other, and their minds will wander back to the man they used to fight for. A man who made no excuses. He just won. Battle after battle as he crushed your grandfather and pronounced himself the King of Alekka, stealing your family’s throne!’
Hakon thought of his son, and his heart ached. He felt sick. And not just from the smoke and Mother’s tonic. Voices drifted to him from outside the tent. Food was cooking, the light seeping into the tent growing duller.
Had the day really gone?
A day lost in a muddle of cursed smoke?
Lifting his head to Mother, Hakon narrowed his eyes. ‘Will you... help me?’
Agnette writhed around at the table next to Bjarni, teeth clenched, body wracked with pain.
‘Perhaps it’s time?’ Gerda wondered, peering up from her bowl of cabbage soup. She had barely taken a mouthful, feeling too agitated to eat. ‘You should want the child to come, Agnette. Not sit around here, acting for all the world as though it’s not happening.’ She glanced at Stellan, who Agnette was attempting to feed. ‘Here, give me the spoon. You get to your chamber. Bjarni, take her. Don’t listen to any arguments!’
Agnette was about to argue, but another stabbing pain took all the air from her lungs, and she could only gasp as her husband led her away from the table, towards the chambers.
Sigurd looked after them, thinking how close they had come to leaving. It would have been hard to cope with a newborn at sea. Harder still with a woman giving birth.
Gerda lifted a full spoon of soup to Stellan’s lips, trying to nudge them open. Eventually, he did pry them apart, but barely, and Gerda dribbled most of the soup into his beard.
‘Here,’ Sigurd offered, grabbing a napkin from the table, and hopping up to wipe it away. He smiled at his father, sitting down beside him.
‘Where is Tulia tonight?’ Gerda wondered. ‘Still on that wall?’
Sigurd nodded, hearing the familiar disapproval in her voice. ‘I’ll relieve her later.’
‘With those Ullaberg women, no doubt.’
‘No doubt,’ Sigurd grinned. Tulia was surprisingly protective of the women she had trained. Proud too, he could tell. It almost made him wonder what sort of mother she would be. They had rarely discussed marriage or children, though she had never sounded against either. It was more that he felt reluctant. He often wondered why his real parents had abandoned him in the forest. Was there something he didn’t know? Something about his future they had seen?
Something about him?
He would never say a word to Tulia about any of it, but it lived within him. Unspoken. The fear of who he really was.
‘Sigurd.’ Gerda looked ready to cry. ‘I’m not sure we should stay.’ She thought she saw Stellan flinch, and it surprised her. ‘If the fort were to fall...’ Putting down the spoon, she grabbed her husband’s hand. It felt so oddly limp in hers, devoid of all strength now. ‘Hakon will hurt your father. Torture him. Cut off his head.’ Tears spilled into the crevices of her wrinkled cheeks. ‘I can’t let that happen. I can’t. After all he did, all these years, it can’t end like this. He doesn’t deserve it.’
Sigurd swallowed, unused to his mother speaking to him as though he was a person, and not just an inconvenience foisted upon her all those years ago. ‘He wouldn’t want to run, though. If he could talk or walk, he wouldn’t choose to run. I think you know that, Mother.’ Sigurd didn’t move, though part of him almost wanted to reach out a hand and pat hers. Instead, he touched his father’s shoulder. ‘He would tell you that it’s important to face destiny head-on. Not try and escape it.’
Gerda didn’t want to hear that, though it was not unexpected. They were all the same: warriors with their pride and their oaths, their commitment to dying with glory draped around them like a shroud. And likely it would be a shroud by the time it was all done.
She swallowed, listening to Agnette shriek in the distance. ‘I should go and see where that horrid Eddeth has gone. Never has a woman been more averse to work than that one!’ Standing up, she sighed, staring at her silent husband. ‘Will you sit with him awhile? I’ll find Martyn. He’ll take him back to his chamber.’
Sigurd nodded as Gerda disappeared, muttering to herself. He glanced at the doors, wondering if Reinar would come in and grab something hot to eat. As soon as the sun had gone down, the temperature had plummeted further, and everything was starting to freeze. ‘Lucky you, tucked up in here,’ he grinned, pulling up the fur Gerda insisted was permanently draped over Stellan’s knees. Most thought it was for warmth, but Sigurd was sure it was her way of hiding his father’s wasting legs, and any indication that he might have wet himself.
He thought about what Gerda had said. She was right. Hakon Vettel wanted the throne, but more than that, he wanted to avenge his father’s death, as he would in his place. And Sigurd didn’t know if they stood any chance of stopping him.
Eddeth had been dragged back in to help Agnette, who appeared to be making some progress. She was more inclined to sit or lie down, and she clung to Bjarni with some force now.
Alys had checked on her before deciding to go for a walk, making sure not to stray far from the square, not wanting to run into Torvig again. She tried not to think about Reinar, though her mind wandered as she walked, wondering if he was warm enough on the wall.
The ground felt icy underfoot, and Alys started to walk more cautiously now, feeling an almost immediate ache in her legs from the cold. She tucked her hands into her cloak, trying to warm them up. The cloak smelled strongly of musty herbs, so strongly that she felt like taking it off, but Eddeth had insisted she wear it at all times for protection. Alys smiled, wondering how much information Eddeth possessed. A lot, it seemed. A lot more than she did.
Alys’ mind was mostly filled with chambers; locked and sealed up. Many parts of her life were shut away. Forgotten. Too painful. Others were lost memories she didn’t know she had at all. Not much stood out before she went to live with her grandfather, and then, only flashes of life with him before she’d run away with Arnon.
It wrenched her heart to think what a fool she had been. But, she reminded herself, she wouldn’t have her children if she hadn’t. And sighing, Alys lifted her head, seeing Lotta’s little face in the darkness.
Braziers burned along the edges of the square. Hakon Vettel’s men could attack at any time, and those catapult crews needed to be able to see.
‘Alys?’
Alys spun around, surprised to see Stina emerge from the shadows. ‘You’re not still working out here, are you?’
Stina looked sheepish. ‘There’s a lot to prepare. It’s the best defense we have, isn’t it? The more boulders and pitch we can throw at them, the better. I was just gathering all the jars together. We’ll fill them in the morning when Ludo brings more pitch. It’s too heavy for me to carry.’
Alys had noticed Stina’s discomfort around Ludo, and it confused her. ‘Ludo seems nice. Kind. Not like the rest, but perhaps not to you?’
Stina squirmed, glad it was so dark. ‘He is kind, yes, of course. It’s not him. I... I have no problem with Ludo.’
‘No?’ Alys stepped closer. ‘Then what is it? You haven’t been yourself for some time. I know you. Something’s wrong.’
‘Can’t you read my mind? I thought dreamers could do that?’ Stina wasn’t sure whether she wanted Alys to read her mind at all. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say. She felt scared and lonely, and most of all, embarrassed.
Alys laughed softly. ‘I’m discovering how much I don’t know about being a dreamer. My mother and my grandmother were dead before I ever had a dream.’
‘And they left you nothing? Nothing to help you? No books?’
‘No. Nothing.’ That was odd, Alys realised, remembering how insistent Jonas had been that she never revea
l her gifts. Perhaps he had taken them? Burned them? She closed her eyes, wondering, but no images would come.
‘Well, when we get away from here, you can find someone to help you. Teach you.’
Alys thought of Reinar and Eddeth. Sigurd too.
Magnus and Lotta and her grandfather.
Lotta...
She grabbed Stina’s hand. ‘I fear what will happen to the children. Fear that I can’t save them. That they’re lost.’
Stina pulled Alys into her arms, feeling her tremble, forgetting her own worries for a moment. ‘You’ll find them, of course you will. You can see in the dark, can’t you? Find your way out of a forest? If you close your eyes and dream... I know you can.’ Pulling back, she squeezed Alys’ hands, smiling. ‘I’ll come with you. When all of this is done, I’ll come with you, and we’ll find them.’
Alys nodded, trying to see Stina’s eyes, but they were hidden in the darkness. ‘I would like that. I’ve missed you.’
‘I’ve missed you too. All our walks along the beach, just talking, dreaming of a different life. Not quite like this, though.’
Alys laughed. ‘Not quite like this at all. Come on, I’ll walk you back to your cottage. You can’t stay out here all night. You look ready to fall down.’
‘No.’ Stina stiffened. ‘No. I promised Ludo I’d stay. He’ll be back soon,’ she lied. ‘We just need to finish what we’re doing. Don’t worry, I’ll head back to my cottage soon.’
There it was again: the tension in her voice that had Alys worried. She shivered, wanting to push further, ask more, but Lotta’s face flashed before her eyes again, and Alys knew she had to find some space to think. ‘Well, I hope so. You won’t be much use if you’re asleep on your feet.’
‘Don’t get too cold now!’ Stina warned, wishing Alys on her way. She had no intention of going back to her cottage. Not when Torvig could unlock the door. Not when he could slip inside and drag her away again. Shaking, she raised a hand, trying to smile. ‘Sleep well.’
‘You too, Stina,’ Alys said. ‘You too.’
After Hakon felt in full control of his senses again, he headed outside. Not one part of him wanted to. He felt foolish, aware of everything he’d said and done while in the dreamer’s grasp. She had played with his mind. Her and her smoke, and more, Mother had insisted. He had been more affected than any of them because Reinar Vilander’s dreamer had been trying to humiliate him; to undo any confidence his men had in his leadership. She wanted to splinter their alliance and render them a weak mess – which she had momentarily done, of course – but now Hakon had another chance. And Hakon had realised the error of his ways.
He was going to need Mother’s help.
And despite her reluctance, she had agreed to do what she could to stop the dreamer. Though she had insisted that he start listening to her, stressing the importance of working to her plans from now on.
Hakon didn’t know how he felt about that as he sat down beside Ivan, who was staring at the flames with wide eyes, cooking a sausage on a stick. ‘Not the sort of day we’d been planning all this time.’
Ivan didn’t look around. He didn’t say anything. He felt confused. It was hard to see where they would go next. With Hakon trying to be and do everything and making a mess of all of it, it was going to be hard for Ivan to lead.
‘I’ve spoken to Mother. She explained everything,’ Hakon sighed, trying to loosen the tension in his shoulders. His body felt as though he’d been in a battle rather than just running around in the smoke like a fool.
‘Everything?’
‘The smoke. What their dreamer was doing to us. I’ve never felt anything like that smoke.’
Ivan wasn’t convinced. ‘You weren’t right before the smoke, Hakon. Everything we talked about, you forgot it all the moment we got to the field. It was as if you were on your own. That I wasn’t there at all!’ He turned his sausage over, scowling. ‘I don’t think I can lead the men tomorrow. Why would any of them listen to me now? You may as well take charge.’ He hunched away from his cousin.
The men loved Ivan. Everyone loved Ivan.
They feared Hakon. He was like his father: more aloof; dangerous.
And perhaps their men would fight for him out of fear? But fear was not the greatest motivator, Hakon knew, desire was. And the desire to win needed to be stronger than the fear they would be defeated. He saw Erlan and Alef heading for their fire, and straightening up, Hakon forced a smile. ‘You’re my commander, Ivan,’ he hissed. ‘I haven’t removed you, and only I can, so you will be ready to lead us in the morning. A good sleep is what we need. You’ll see things more clearly after some sleep.’ The smoke lingered in the darkness. He could hear men coughing all around them, and he felt grateful that night had fallen so quickly, still too embarrassed to face his warriors. Though he had no choice but to face Erlan Stari and Alef Olstein. ‘My lords!’ he exclaimed. ‘What a day!’
Both men looked stunned by Hakon’s smile and his exuberant manner.
‘It certainly was,’ Alef said through tight lips. ‘Not quite what you had led us to believe would happen. Not at all.’ He ran a dirty hand through his long beard, eyes never leaving Hakon’s face.
His voice was an angry rebuke and Hakon bristled, not about to be spoken to as though he was a boy; ignoring the fact that he had just behaved like a small child. ‘I challenge you to do any better in the thrall of a dreamer! In that smoke?’ He spat at the flames, angry now, though the smoke was still strong in the air, and the smell of Ivan’s sausage was making him nauseous.
Sensing how things were about to unfold, Ivan stood. ‘My cousin’s right. We were bewitched out there. Can you explain what happened? What that smoke did to us? The voices in our heads? The hallucinations?’ He stood beside Hakon, eyeing the two men, neither of whom appeared convinced.
‘You’ve put your lot in with us now,’ Hakon added. ‘The first day is done, and it was not a good one for us. But I would rather falter first, than fail with my last breath. Victory will come. You have no need to fear. Mother has seen it, and she will help us tomorrow. She will take care of their dreamer, leaving us free to assault their walls.’
‘And will you try to take charge?’ Erlan wondered. ‘Or will your cousin lead your men? It makes no sense to have so many leaders. It’s like trying to ride a two-headed, eight-legged horse. We all need to be heading in the same direction!’
Ivan wanted to nod, but he stood silently beside Hakon, who did enough nodding of his own.
‘And we will, we will!’ Hakon insisted, suppressing a yawn. He felt his body swaying, and aiming for a stool, he tried to make it without passing out. ‘Now bring some ale and share a cup with us! I would like to hear your thoughts on what tricks you think those Vilanders might come up with tomorrow.’
‘There is an end coming. And at this most beautiful end, I will take your daughter’s life.’
Alys shuddered, listening to the woman who stood before her, eyes bulging out from the wolf hood perched upon her head, enjoying the terror she could no doubt feel.
She was a dreamer, Alys knew.
Hakon Vettel’s dreamer.
And she had come into Alys’ dream.
46
Reinar leaned on the rampart wall, eyes sometimes drifting closed. ‘You should get some sleep,’ he muttered to Torvig, who laughed.
‘Me? Both my eyes are open, so I’ll be more use than you up here tonight. If we’re still standing tomorrow, you can take the night watch.’
Reinar nodded, not wanting to leave the wall just yet, though a quick nap would be welcome. ‘Eddeth thinks they’ll sleep through the night, but don’t be too sure. Keep your eyes peeled. Not everything Eddeth says or does makes sense.’ He grinned, still amazed at how well her smoke had worked. But it was only one day. And it was only one moment. He stared at the long, dark shape of the forest in the distance, at the lumps littering the field, highlighted by ever-shrinking flames, knowing that once Hakon got his catapults within range, he
would be almost unstoppable.
‘Don’t worry,’ Torvig insisted. ‘Yours aren’t the only pair of eyes that can see.’
Reinar laughed. ‘True. I’ll be back before dawn.’
Torvig watched as he turned for the stairs, relieved to be alone. He sighed, moving towards the brazier, warming his hands, trying to imagine what would come next.
Agnette’s moans of discomfort came and went throughout the night, disturbing many in the hall, waking them out of their sleep. Eddeth lay on the floor next to the bed, sleeping fretfully, concerned that the baby didn’t appear in a hurry to come out at all.
She thought of Alys, in the chamber down the end of the corridor, hoping she had remembered to wear her cloak to bed, suddenly realising that she hadn’t talked to her about the flying powder.
Alys was lost in those eyes. They were bigger than a wolf’s, rounder and more pronounced, and somehow, much more threatening.
Though she was a woman, Alys reminded herself.
Not a wolf.
‘I will kill your daughter with my bare hands!’
Alys blinked, back in the forest. The woman stood some ten paces away from her, on the other side of a spitting fire. Flames lit her face from below, casting shadows that disfigured her, making her look even more frightening. ‘Why?’ Her voice was a whisper, and she felt disappointed, wanting to sound different somehow.
The old dreamer laughed to hear it. ‘Why? Why do you think? Because you stand in the way. A threat and a problem. And I very much dislike problems. So, unless you remove yourself from my path, I shall tear your daughter to pieces. Limb by pretty limb.’
Alys’ breath came in rushed bursts, panic engulfing her.
