The Complete Fenris Series

by Samantha MacLeod

“The money,” I whispered.

  I leaned next to Fenris, ready to help him walk. So far he showed no signs of moving; he seemed to be entirely focused on leaning against the jagged stones of the wall.

  “Money?” he asked.

  “The coins from Týr. We could bang on a door. That much money would buy silence, I’m sure of it.”

  Fenris gave me a thin, weak smile. “Gone. To the . . . woman. In the kitchens.”

  “All of it?”

  Fenris turned, scraping his cheek against the wall. “Yes.”

  I clenched my fingers into fists as I imagined that sack of coins. It had held more money than my family had ever made, even during our best years. Stars, no wonder Brunhild had seemed so grateful!

  “Damn,” I whispered.

  Fenris made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cough. “Money...well spent. If they hurt you, or the . . . baby . . .the mead would have helped.”

  I wiped the back of my hand across my cheek. “The mead did help,” I admitted.

  Fenris sighed, then shivered. I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my cheek to his clammy skin.

  “Where can we go?” I asked, half to myself.

  “The Ironwood,” Fenris whispered.

  My heart surged at those words. Stars, how I’d missed the Ironwood, the scent of sun-warmed pine and the safety of its deep shadows. But—

  “No,” I said. “That’s the first place they’ll look. And the soldiers know the woods around here, love. We’d be walking straight into a trap.”

  His back stiffened, then softened as he sank against the wall. “Stay here, then? You think we could try to hide?”

  I shook my head against his neck. “Not without money. Most of the castle would recognize me.”

  His chest began to shake in my arms. At first I thought he’d laughed, but after a moment I realized he was trying not to cry. Damn it. I bit my lip so hard it hard. We’d be fools to run to the forest, but we damn well couldn’t stay here. Where else could we go?

  A memory surfaced slowly. Glossy, black water dancing with the orange glow of hundreds of lanterns, the flicker and shine I’d at first mistaken for lights caught in the trees.

  “The river!” I said. “Fenris, can you swim?”

  ALTHOUGH FENRIS SEEMED to be getting stronger with every step, it still took us a very long time to thread the serpentine streets of Nøkkyn’s city. By the time we reached the harbor on the Körmt river, the sky had turned from ebony to a dim, faded gray. Great, wooden barges crowded the docks, and the stench of rotting fish hung heavy in the air. Torches bobbed and wove in the predawn gloom, carried by burly men who shouted orders into the chill morning air.

  Fenris and I huddled in the shadow of an enormous barge. Fear crept up my spine like hundreds of cold needles. My plan had seemed so simple in the darkness next to Nøkkyn’s castle. Now, it seemed almost foolhardy.

  “What—” My mouth was so dry I could hardly form words. “What do you think?”

  Fenris shifted next to me. It was too dark to make out anything more than the rough outline of his shoulders and the wild tussle of his hair.

  “I think we enter the water there, past the last boat,” he whispered. “I won’t change until I’m underwater.” His head shifted, and I guessed he was glancing toward the east, trying to estimate how much time we had until the sky began to fill with light.

  “We should be fine,” he said.

  My stomach tightened as if it were trying to curl in on itself. That was exactly the kind of thing I’d say if I were about to do something horribly stupid.

  “Great,” I whispered.

  Fenris shifted, pulling away from the hulking shadow of the barge. I hesitated.

  “You’re sure it won’t be, um, too much for you?” I asked.

  His fingers closed around my hand. Without answering my question, Fenris led me through the gloaming to the very last barge on the docks. Foul-smelling mud squelched under my toes as we darted past heaps of broken barrels and tangled fishing nets. He slowed as our toes met the water’s edge.

  “Try not to splash,” he whispered.

  I nodded, only to realize he’d already turned away. Fenris’s dark body moved into the water slowly and silently. I took a deep breath and followed.

  The water was so cold I had to clamp a hand over my lips to stifle my gasp. Fenris slipped under the glossy, dark surface of the Körmt, and I forced myself to follow him. When the waves began lapping at my thighs, and the hem of the dress billowed in the water around me, I noticed something glimmering beneath the water. Bending low to the water, I stepped forward.

  It was as if a school of tiny, luminescent fish swarmed below the waves. They were swirling, and rising toward the surface. Such beautiful, vulnerable, little lights.

  My throat tightened as I realized they weren’t fish; they were sparks. Fenris had transformed underwater, where the Körmt would hide his form.

  A heartbeat later, a wave surged past me, coming almost to my breasts. Shouts broke out from the docks, and the barges groaned in protest. Heart hammering against my chest, I glanced backward, where a jumble of voices raised in confusion.

  “Sol.”

  Fenris’s voice rumbled across the water, low and powerful, like distant thunder. I turned to see his massive head, sleek and wet, rising briefly from the river. His eyes shone like the moon.

  I plunged into the Körmt river, paddling toward him. The shock of the cold forced air from my lungs, and my dress tangled around my legs. The water stank of brine and other, less savory aromas. Pressing my lips together tightly, I tried to kick through the snarled fabric of my dress.

  Finally, my hands brushed Fenris’s thick pelt. Gasping, I grabbed handfuls of his fur and pulled myself onto his back. Only his snout and eyes rose from the water. My body pressed against his beneath the cold cover of the great Körmt river.

  Without a word, his vast body launched into motion. He shifted beneath me, pulling himself forward against the current. The sky above us had lightened enough for me to see the V of ripples dispersing from his snout. My body started to shake as I watched the shoreline. If the sky grew any lighter, we’d be visible.

  The voices from the docks faded, and the torches no longer bobbed wildly. Flickering with the light of dozens of torches, Nøkkyn’s city on the riverbanks looked dark and silent, like a great beast holding its breath. If only one person among those dark towers was watching the water, I was certain they’d see Fenris’s head among the waves.

  Closing my eyes, I offered a silent prayer to whatever gods may be listening.

  The water was cold enough to hurt, and my body ached, then burned, then finally went numb. My teeth crashed together as I shivered, first violently, then slower and slower. The banks of the Körmt river grew dark, and I heaved a sigh of relief as we left the torchlight behind.

  Fenris’s body rippled and swayed under me, pulling us up the river, away from the sea. My vision shook, then blurred. Stars, I was so tired. I closed my eyes and remembered the feather bed in our cave, how soft and safe I’d felt on that smooth, white fabric. My mind drifted like the water, floating toward the refuge of sleep.

  Only when the icy chill of the Körmt river sloshed over my eyes and down my nose did I realize I was sliding off Fenris’s back. Some dim, distant alarm flared in my consciousness as the water closed over me, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.

  Warmth engulfed me, dragging me from the water. Something hard jabbed my chest, and I took a deep, gasping breath. A jolt of panic burned through me as my eyes struggled to focus. Fenris’s lip curled above me, and the row of his massive teeth closed gently around my torso. Above me, the gray, opalescent sky was fading to a pale, robin’s egg blue. My stomach surged unpleasantly as Fenris swung his head up. With a splash, we left the water. I caught a fading glimpse of the jagged tops of pine trees before my eyes rolled back and the world darkened.

  I awoke shivering, surrounded by black fur. Fenris’s body pressed around mine. Th
e heat of his wolf form seeped slowly into my frigid body. Tilting my head, I saw a sliver of pale turquoise sky somewhere very high above us.

  “Shhhhh, rest now.” Fenris’s deep voice rumbled around me. “We’re safe, my love. It’s over.”

  My body convulsed so violently it hurt. Flashes of last night blazed across my numbed mind. The crowd of pale faces watching my progress toward the pyre. The hiss and crackle as the dry wood beneath my feet caught fire. The press of Nøkkyn’s silver blade against my throat. And Nøkkyn’s limp body, pierced with a dozen fist-sized black holes, smacking the stones of the courtyard.

  “Sol,” Fenris murmured. “Sol, you’re safe.”

  Safe. I closed my eyes, blocking out the bright slice of sky above. But, just before sleep could claim me, another memory trickled through my consciousness. An older man, pale and scared in his exquisite costume.

  Within my dreams, Bard Sturlinsen said, the highest of the Æsir fell to the gaping black jaws of the Fenris-wolf.

  My mind ached. The world seemed to be spinning beneath me. I opened my mouth to tell Fenris about the terrible prophecy King Nøkkyn charged Bard Sturlinsen with delivering to the halls of the mighty Æsir, but my tongue was dry and my lips clumsy. With a sigh, I surrendered to the darkness surrounding me.

  SUNLIGHT AND BIRDSONG. I opened my eyes to the dappled shadows of pine boughs dancing across forest duff. Finches were singing to each other in the forest canopy, their cheerful little calls and responses filling the forest. Wiping my eyes, I rolled over onto my back. I was alone.

  Sitting up seemed to take a great deal of effort, as though the dark waters of the Körmt river had drained all my strength. I’d curled against a fallen log in the middle of a thick grove of dark pines. Golden sunlight streaked through the treetops, catching the swirling upward trajectories of a group of little winged insects.

  I raised my hand to the sunbeams and imagined I could feel their warmth on my outstretched fingers. It was the first light I’d seen in days that wasn’t filtered through bars or windows. I took a deep breath. My lungs still ached from the sting of the smoke, but I could almost feel them healing as I inhaled the thick, pine scent of the woods.

  I tilted my head toward the sun and closing my eyes. It must be late in the afternoon; Fenris had let me sleep almost an entire day. Stars, think of that! Lazily, I wrapped an arm around my waist, greeting the spark of life hidden there.

  “We’re safe,” I whispered to my child.

  It seemed I had thought of something last night, something important that Fenris needed to hear. I cast my mind out, trying to remember, but last night was a blur of motion and smoke, sparks and freezing, dark water. The few, lurching images I assembled, of stagnant water or Fenris’s unresponsive body, made my skin crawl.

  There will be time enough for remembering, I thought. For now, I would just breathe the Ironwood’s scent. I would enjoy being alive.

  “Sol?”

  Opening my eyes, I saw Fenris standing between the pine trees, his hands cupped before his chest.

  “You’re awake,” he said. His smile spread over his face, making me feel as though all was finally right with the world.

  “You saved me,” I paused, then wrapped both my arms around my stomach. “You save us both, last night.”

  He looked down, but not before I saw his smile widen and his cheeks flush with color.

  “You’re a hero,” I said.

  Fenris shook his head. “I brought you something.” He sank to his knees before me and held out his cupped hands. “Go ahead.”

  I wrapped my fingers around his, and his hands opened slowly. At first I thought his palms were empty, and he was playing a trick. Then, curled against the creases of his left hand, I noticed a tiny green tendril. Fenris unfurled his fingers, revealing a delicate white blossom shaped like a tear. I leaned toward his hands and took a deep breath of its rich, sweet perfume.

  “A snowdrop?” I asked.

  “Poor little flower must have been confused,” Fenris said. “I smelled it when I was hunting. It was cold when you were in the castle, but it turned warm yesterday. This flower must have thought it was springtime.”

  A memory surfaced slowly, emerging from the hazy depths of my mind like a silver trout rising to the surface of a deep pool. My brother Egren, when he was little more than a baby, walking silently up to me as I planted the spring tubers. In his chubby, outstretched hands was a crumpled snowdrop flower. He’d handed it to me with no change in his serious expression, then toddled off toward the house.

  I opened my mouth, wanting to explain to Fenris what a snowdrop had once meant to me and my baby brother, but all I managed was a series of choked sobs. Fenris’s pale eyes and furrowed brow disappeared as my sight shattered, ruined by the sudden, sharp knife of grief. Fenris wrapped his arms around my shoulders and held me as I cried, loud, angry sobs of protest to the silent forest.

  It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right that I was here to see this flower, when Egren and Jael and my parents lay in their cold graves.

  How dare I live on?

  EVENTUALLY, MY TEARS ran dry, leaving dark, wet stains across the front of my dress. Fenris still pressed me to his chest so tightly it almost hurt, as if he worried I’d fall apart without his arms around me. I slowly realized he was kissing my hair, and running his hand along the curve of my back. Sniffling, I pulled away and wiped my hand across my nose.

  “What?” I gasped, blinking through my reddened eyes.

  Fenris frowned, looking at the grass beside us. My eyes flickered over the tiny white flash of the crushed snowdrop flower. The light had grown as thick as syrup under the trees, and the birdsong abated as the shadows pooled around us.

  “Your family,” Fenris said. “They...cared about you?”

  He said this in the same tone he may have used to ask if my family could breathe underwater, or sprout wings from their shoulders to fly like birds.

  My breath hitched. I tried to make myself remember Egren’s smile, or Jael’s face as he took me into the Ironwood to show me some new secret. Or even Da, the way he would grin and laugh as he told us stories during the long, cold nights of midwinter.

  But the one image that surfaced and then stubbornly refused to leave my mind was Ma’s face, creased with lines and framed by her white hair. The way she’d looked as she reached for my hand when we braided garlic the day Nøkkyn came to claim me. You’ll be all right? she had asked. As if I had any way of answering that question.

  It slowly occurred to me that the question hadn’t been intended for me at all. It was a question for herself, to resolve whatever guilt she felt over selling her daughter to the King to buy another year of freedom.

  Ma’s voice echoed through my mind again, speaking to me across the barrier of time and death. Let her go, she had told Jael. Let her go into the Ironwood. Let her enjoy what little time she has left.

  “Yes,” I answered as I pressed my hands against my tear-swollen eyes. “They loved me. In their way.”

  Fenris huffed out a sigh. He looked like a man accepting something on pure faith, and I felt another stab of grief that he would never have the chance to meet Ma, or Jael, or little Egren. He moved a hand from my waist to cup my chin until our eyes met.

  “If they loved you, Sol, your brothers and your mother would want you to live. They would be happy you are alive.”

  His words made my body tremble. We fell silent, with nothing but the fading sunlight and birdsong between us.

  “What was your mother’s name?” he asked.

  I sniffed. “Dajnar. Why?”

  His hand dropped to rub my abdomen. “I was just thinking, if the baby is a girl, perhaps you’d want that name for her.”

  My vision swam, blurring the pines and the thick bands of evening sunlight. I felt weak and lightheaded from my tears, as insubstantial as the little insects I’d seen fluttering upward against the dark background of the trees. I pulled my arms from Fenris’s body and wrapped them around my own
waist.

  Somehow, I hadn’t thought of this child as anything more than the fruit of my love for my husband, and his for me. But of course this little person growing within me was more than that, more than just us. This baby was another life, a link in the family that had produced both of us, a band between our parents and the future. Perhaps she would be a girl with my mother’s dark gray eyes. Or a boy with my father’s wide smile.

  “I’d like that,” I answered. My voice was hoarse from sobbing.

  Fenris pulled me close and kissed the top of my head. For a long time, I lay against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as the light faded from the spaces between the trees.

  “I know where we are,” Fenris finally said. “I explored while you slept, until I found something I recognized.” He shifted under me. “We’re not far from where the river branches. If you’re able to ride, I think we can reach the cave tonight.”

  I took a deep, trembling breath. “I can ride. Let’s go home.”

  THE MONSTER CHAINED: CHAPTER ONE

  I allowed myself the luxury of waking slowly.

  Although the air nipping at my cheeks and nose was cool, I’d burrowed deep into the blissfully soft feather mattress that filled our small cave and the furs piled over my body were warm and soft. I stretched and reached for Fenris’s side of the bed, but it was empty, and the furs were cold. Sunshine filled the cave, streaming in through the narrow entrance. It was morning, then. Late in the morning. With a sigh, I rolled onto my back and rubbed my fingers across the taut skin of my belly.

  The soft curve of my abdomen felt no bigger this morning. Fenris and I stretched our palms across it every day, spreading our fingers to feel for any sign of the little spark within. If I pressed my hand deep into the skin of my abdomen, I could touch an unfamiliar tightness just below my belly button, like the shell of a nut buried under layers of furs. But Fenris balked when I tried to mimic my motions with his hand, almost as if he were afraid of harming the child growing inside me.