by A. E. Rayne
Ivan encouraged her to walk with him, away from Stina. ‘Now that Hakon is on the mend, I expect you’ll want to leave? Especially after last night.’
Alys nodded, trying not to appear as desperate as she felt. ‘We want to go home, yes, of course. It wasn’t our intention to be here.’ She smiled, sensing how eager Ivan was to please her. Though, would he try to keep her? His thoughts were messy, much like Ivan himself, and Alys couldn’t find the answer.
Ivan continued walking, hand in the air, motioning for Jerrick to come to him. ‘Well, I couldn’t blame you. We’re not the most attractive proposition. A defeated army crawling home, hounded by vengeful spirits? We’re hardly the heroes of this saga!’ He grinned at Alys before turning to Jerrick. ‘Hakon is better, much better, thanks to a handful of hungry maggots! So prepare the men to leave in the morning. He’s impatient to get back to Slussfall.’ Ivan sighed, not keen to head back to Slussfall at all. He missed his childhood home in Orbo, with its magnificent views of the sea. Their trip to Ottby had been a disappointing waste of time and men, and once he was fully recovered, Hakon would be unbearable. And that meant that life would quickly become unbearable for all of them, especially Ivan, who would be forced to placate and calm his cousin as he raced towards his next plans for attacking the Vilanders.
Ivan knew Hakon.
He would never rest until every last one of them was dead.
After spending some time with Leonid, Magnus had slipped away to explore the fort. With Jonas’ coins, he’d purchased a hooded cloak that was far too big for him, but it was warm, made with thick wool, dyed a dark blue, and his teeth almost stopped chattering long enough for him to think. Flurries of snow swept through the wintry air, and he lifted his head, eyes on the towering figures that crowded around tables and braziers, talking and trying to keep warm.
Magnus hoped that Jonas and Vik would stay safe. That he would too.
And glancing around, he tried to think of what to do.
There were so many men and women hurrying past him that he felt small and unseen, and though he could weave his way through them without being noticed, that wouldn’t help him find Lotta. And he certainly couldn’t stand and stare, peering at faces, trying to find Long Beard or Silver Tooth, or Long Beard’s wife, though he remembered Silver Tooth’s vividly terrifying description of her.
And he barely knew their names...
Magnus froze, listening to someone calling out.
‘Bergit Dyre, I haven’t seen you in days!’
Stumbling around, mouth hanging open, Magnus realised that he did know one name.
That of Long Beard’s wife.
Alys watched Ivan and Lief in the distance. They looked like two stags butting antlers. She had a sense that there were many men in the camp who wanted to be the lord, who thought they knew how things should run. Alys supposed that was always the way. She thought back to Ottby and Reinar. And Torvig.
A good lord listened to those men he trusted to give him sound advice. Though a good lord could still be blinded by loyalty and not see the truth.
‘You are dreaming?’
Alys spun around, horror in her eyes. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘I was talking to you, but you didn’t answer,’ Falla smiled coldly. ‘I thought perhaps you were dreaming?’
Alys relaxed her face. ‘I think I was. Last night was so terrifying. It has... not been easy being here.’
‘No?’ Falla stepped closer, wanting to know more.
And sensing it, Alys held her ground, wishing she could hold her tongue too. ‘We are prisoners. It’s impossible to know our fate when we’re not the ones deciding it.’
Falla almost sneered. ‘You’re helpers, not prisoners. You helped the lord, and soon you will leave.’
‘I hope so, we would like to go home.’
‘And you will, as I’m sure my husband will tell you now.’ Falla eyed Lief, who was walking their way. ‘You have news of our departure?’ She gripped his hand with some urgency, desperate to leave the stench of death and defeat behind.
‘Yes, it’s decided, we’ll leave tomorrow morning. Hakon insists he will be well enough to ride, and Ivan agrees.’
Alys felt a lift that was quickly crushed by a growing certainty that their time with the Vettels was not over yet. She tried not to think about Magnus and Lotta, knowing that she couldn’t do anything about finding them while they were trapped with the army. ‘I’ll tell my friends, thank you.’ And spying Stina and Eddeth talking to Njall, she hurried away.
The urge to run was strong.
Sigurd fought it as he stood before the pyre, imagining Tulia standing on the opposite side of it, sneering at the ceremony. He didn’t know what her people did, or what was the best way to honour her. He just wanted to curl up next to her and feel her warm skin beneath his cold hands.
Reinar nudged him, offering him the torch.
It was his last moment seeing her body, and though it was wrapped in a shroud, she was still there with him.
Reinar had spoken warmly of her, and Sigurd had cried, listening.
Snow was falling, wet on his face, melting like tears.
He saw images of Torvig, rage mingling with sorrow until he wanted to roar in agony.
And sighing, he blinked Torvig away.
His last moment.
Tears ran down Sigurd’s cheeks as he took the flaming torch and edged forward to the tightly stacked tower of wood, eyes on the gifts they had brought to honour Tulia. The weapons and jewellery. The food and coins. She would be comfortable on her journey to the Underworld, he thought.
Though would she like being so comfortable?
He smiled sadly, pushing the torch in between two pieces of wood.
And closing his eyes, he saw her sitting on top of him, black hair covering her breasts, hands on his shoulders as she leaned forward, staring into his eyes. ‘I love you,’ she whispered, her voice hoarse. ‘Whatever else you remember about me, Sigurd Vilander, remember that.’
And stepping back from the pyre, Sigurd watched it spark into life for a moment, before dropping his head, and turning away.
11
Hakon had dozed on and off throughout the day, dreaming of his wife. In his dreams, she was usually naked, her hair wild about her face, lying in their comfortable bed, surrounded by furs.
He liked to see her that way.
But he’d also seen her sitting beside him in Stornas’ grand hall, a golden crown on her head, coloured jewels at her throat, her eyes sparkling in the glow of a thousand candles.
Hakon woke slowly, smiling, and then Eddeth leaned over him, and he yelped. ‘What are you doing?’ He spoke with a rasp, and coughing, he tried to find his old voice, desperate to feel more like himself again. He was the Lord of Slussfall, the rightful King of Alekka. He didn’t want anyone forgetting that, especially not him. ‘Stop it!’
‘I’m going to take out my little friends,’ Eddeth grinned, though she did not feel happy. Her maggots had worked hard, and if the lord wanted to get out of bed and spend all day on a horse come morning, he was likely to undo all their good work. She felt offended on their behalf. ‘I must rub more honey on you now, then I shall strap you up!’
Hakon squirmed as Eddeth’s cold, rough hands started exploring his exposed belly. He wanted to push her away, but he was also well aware that Eddeth and her maggots had likely saved his life. Eyes up as Ivan entered the tent, he smiled, happy for the distraction. ‘You’ve spoken to Lief?’ He tried to wriggle upwards, wanting to sit, but Eddeth pushed him down.
‘I have. The man’s an old woman! I’m surprised he left his bed to come here in the first place. He thinks we should stay longer. And after last night? We’d be mad to stay here a moment longer than we need to. We need to head back to Slussfall. We need to get somewhere we’re not so exposed!’
Eddeth froze, maggots crawling over her fingers. She forced her eyes to remain on Hakon’s wound, desperately trying not to ask questions.
B
ut she had so many!
Lips quivering, she picked each maggot up, placing it back into her little jar.
Hakon peered at Eddeth, sensing her interest in their conversation, though that was hardly surprising. He glared at his cousin, shuddering. The sensation of those maggots inside him, crawling over his flesh, was something he’d been unable to get used to, and he tried to distract himself further, which was easy as Ivan was a constant distraction. ‘Any sign of Ulrick?’
‘Ulrick? No, no sign at all. He wanted that little girl, and, in the end, he got her. Ha! I thought for certain Mother would have won that battle, though now he’s had the last laugh. He’s got the girl, and his life!’
Hakon wasn’t happy. ‘He left. Me. His lord. In the middle of a battle! Perhaps Mother needed that girl? Perhaps she died because she didn’t have her?’ Hakon doubted that was true, but he wasn’t inclined to wish Ulrick Dyre the best for betraying him. And worrying that Alari was watching and listening, he felt inclined to defend Mother.
Loudly.
Eddeth left her maggot jar on the table and started applying more honey, twitching, struggling to stay quiet.
‘And you would’ve felt good about that, would you?’ Ivan stepped closer, wanting to see what Eddeth was doing. He peered over her shoulder, impressed by how clean the wound looked, though the smell of garlic was overpowering. Trying not to inhale, he turned his attention back to his cousin. ‘If that old dreamer witch had killed her? You’re surely not happy about killing a child?’
Hakon shrugged, wanting to change the subject. ‘Well, whatever the case, when we get back to Slussfall, Ulrick and I will need to have a word.’
Ivan laughed, turning around. ‘Leave him alone, and little Lotta. Let him be happy. Him and Bergit both.’ He headed out of the tent. ‘You’re doing a masterful job, Eddeth!’ he grinned, grabbing a handful of the flapping sheet. ‘I’m not sure how we’ll cope without you!’ And disappearing outside, he wondered where Alys had gotten to.
Magnus didn’t know if Bergit was a common name, though he’d never met one. But there were surely more Bergits in Slussfall, because the woman who’d answered to that name and was now deep in conversation with the weaver who’d let Leonid have the table he so desired, was no old crone.
Silver Tooth had described her in such a way that Magnus was afraid of finding her, but this woman was attractive. She looked older than his mother – perhaps Stina’s age, Magnus thought – and Stina was thirty-eight, he remembered. She had orange hair, which rippled like flames, hanging loose down her back as she laughed with the weaver. Her face was pale, her lips full and pronounced, her cheeks rounded. She appeared healthy and happy, not at all like Silver Tooth’s description. Not like Long Beard either, who was a filthy barnacle of a man, all rough edges and foul smells.
Magnus shook his head, deciding that she was not the right Bergit. But something nagged at him when he looked at her, and he knew that he needed to know for sure. Perhaps Silver Tooth had just been teasing him? Perhaps this Bergit was blind and didn’t notice how mean and ugly Long Beard was?
Magnus saw Leonid out of the corner of his eye, and he crept forward, ignoring him, edging towards the table next to the weaver’s where an old woman was selling a paltry selection of vegetables. She looked half-starved, and Magnus wondered why she didn’t just eat them herself. His eyes snapped to the parsnips, reminded of Urna Kraki, and blinking, he tried to focus, pretending to browse as he moved closer to the chatting women.
Their gossip was dull and uninteresting, and there weren’t enough vegetables on the old woman’s table to keep him busy for long. She shooed him away with a toothless bark, unhappy with his loitering. Magnus stumbled, turning to leave, ears open to the last snatches of conversation. The women had moaned about the weather, gossiped about their friends, and complained about the price of wine, before progressing to talk about their husbands.
‘Ulrick might be home before the rest of them,’ Bergit smiled. ‘He’s been scouting for Hakon Vettel. He’s one of his most valued men, you know. He’s been gone for weeks. All I can hope is that he misses the battle and just comes home to me. Like my child, he is! My husband and child rolled into one!’ She glanced at Magnus, who had stopped to stare. ‘What do you want, then? A boy your age? Have you nothing better to do?’ She peered down at Magnus, hands on hips, pouting lips curled into a snarl.
And then Leonid was there, all smiles and bows, pulling Magnus away. ‘Ahhh, lady, I do apologise. It’s what happens when you employ a boy, I’m afraid. Averse to hard work, the lot of them!’
Bergit turned away, ignoring Magnus’ gaping mouth, and Leonid’s pandering, eager to continue her conversation. Magnus watched her, though, barely noticing that Leonid had dragged him back to his table.
He could feel his heart banging in his chest, realising that he knew another name.
Ulrick.
Eddeth burst open like a ripe plum, talking so quickly that neither Alys nor Stina could understand her.
Then one word stuck out.
In all the mumbling, spluttering, one word stuck out.
‘Lotta? What do you mean, Lotta?’ Alys hissed, grabbing Eddeth’s arm. They were walking through the centre of the camp, within view of their guardian, Njall, struggling to find anywhere to be alone.
Eddeth couldn’t breathe. She stopped, collapsing forward, hands on her knees. ‘Oh... oh!’ And standing up, she sucked in an enormous breath, shoulders heaving. ‘So hard that was, trying not to say anything! Not able to ask questions, to know more! For surely there is more to know! Who is this Ulrick? Where is he taking Lotta? To Slussfall? Well... now that looks unlikely, wouldn’t you say?’
Stina hurried to Eddeth’s other side, wanting to stick a hand over her mouth. There was no sign of Falla or Lief Gundersen, or Ivan Vettel, though who knew how many of the warriors and servants milling around were loyal to Hakon. Likely all of them. ‘Eddeth, ssshhh,’ she warned. ‘You shouldn’t mention names. Please.’
Eddeth nodded. ‘A man named Ulrick took Lotta away from the old dreamer. The one you...’ Eddeth peered around, lowering her voice to a whisper, ‘killed.’
Alys glared at her. ‘Alright, alright, I think we know what you mean.’ She glanced over her shoulder, seeing Njall stomping their way. ‘And he’s taking her to his wife? Is that what you said?’ It sounded similar to something she remembered from her dreams.
‘Yes, but he may not stay in Slussfall, or go there at all if he thinks the old dreamer will try to steal Lotta away,’ Eddeth warned, weary mind whirring. She sneezed, immediately feeling better.
Alys felt terrible.
Stina grabbed her hand, sensing it. ‘We just need to know more. Perhaps you can find information in... other ways?’ She didn’t want anyone discovering that Alys was a dreamer. They would never be free if they did.
Alys squinted, the sun in her eyes as it headed for its bed. She remembered standing on Ullaberg’s beach, watching the sun set, and she could almost feel Lotta’s cold little hand in hers, trying to pull her along, wanting her to see the shell she’d found. She blinked, turning as Njall stopped before them.
‘Ivan wishes to see you,’ he mumbled, eyeing the women in turn. They looked suspicious to him, always whispering to each other, especially that odd Eddeth. He was certain they couldn’t be trusted, though it was hard to say why.
‘He wants to see all of us?’ Stina wondered, hoping to keep Eddeth far away from the Vettels.
‘No, just you,’ Njall said, inclining his head to Alys. ‘He’s waiting in his tent.’
Alys nodded, wrapping her cloak around her chest as she hurried after him.
‘What do we do?’ Eddeth fretted, stomach rumbling. ‘We must do something. A plan! We should work on a plan!’
‘A plan for what?’ Stina asked quietly, drawing Eddeth close.
‘A plan for when everything goes wrong, for surely it’s about to!’
Supper was plentiful, which made Bjarni happy. He was ravenou
s, delighting in the fare Gerda had instructed Rilda to cook. It was a special occasion, after all, welcoming back the true Lady of Ottby.
Bjarni thought Gerda looked slightly put out that Elin had come back, though he was sitting between her and Agnette, and there was no opportunity to gossip about her. He would save that for later, when he was tucked up in bed with his wife, who would surely have something to say about it.
Agnette was distracted. Liara was asleep in their chamber, and though she had left the door open, she kept turning around, listening.
‘Perhaps you should take your plate to your chamber?’ Gerda grumbled, fed up with Agnette’s wriggling. She spoke quietly, still smiling, conscious that Elin was sitting in her place.
‘I’m nearly finished,’ Agnette said sharply. She saw Gerda recoil, not used to being the one on the end of a tongue lashing. Agnette didn’t have time to feel guilty, though, she had far too much on her mind, worrying about her baby, and the fort, Bjarni, and now Elin. She glanced down the table, seeing Elin sitting next to Reinar, smiling and laughing as though she’d never left.
It confused her.
Ludo caught Agnette’s eye, almost reading her mind, which reminded him of Alys and Stina. The Ullaberg women had fitted into the fort effortlessly, especially Alys. It was strange not to see her near Reinar or Sigurd; strange not to see her with Eddeth, Winter bounding after her. He frowned, realising that he hadn’t seen Winter all day. Rigfuss was no trouble to look after. He ignored Ludo, just happy to have a bowl of milk, and some fishy scraps left out for him. Winter, however, was aloof, barely present.
They were all missing Alys, it seemed.
Ludo turned, staring down the table at Reinar, whose face was almost unreadable. Sometimes, he looked happy, but perhaps it was just his lips curling into a smile, he thought, staring more closely, wanting to see his eyes.
