by A. E. Rayne
‘Looks cold,’ Magnus said, teeth chattering.
‘It does,’ Leonid agreed, feeling around his nose. ‘Which won’t be good for business. Unless you’re selling furs.’ And his eyes snapped to two strapping men who had dragged their cart of pelts and furs towards an empty table. ‘If I were out there, that’s where I’d go first. Buy myself a hat. Those men will do a great trade today!’ His attention shifted to Magnus, who had gripped his arm.
‘There!’ Magnus hissed, pointing to the two men whose faces were almost entirely covered by their hoods, though Magnus recognised the shape of his tall great-grandfather, and his not quite as tall, but just as powerful looking friend. ‘That’s them!’
Leonid blinked, following Magnus’ arm, deciding that he would have to take the boy’s word for it. ‘I hope you’re right, my friend. But what good it does us in here, I don’t know. I killed that man. Killed!’ And then he was sobbing again, nose throbbing, blocking immediately, making him panic.
‘Ssshhh,’ Magnus soothed. ‘They’ll help us, I know, if they can find us.’ And turning around, he peered into the darkness, needing to find something to throw.
Karolina Vettel had been walking the ramparts with the head of the garrison, a self-important man called Baldur Skoggi. She didn’t want to remain in the hall and hide until her husband returned. If Hakon was determined to become the King of Alekka, then one day, her son would likely assume that role. And so, despite Hakon insisting that she think about hairstyles and dresses while he was gone, Karolina had spent some time learning about the fort. About their enemies and their allies. About their strengths and weaknesses.
Baldur was a patient, if disapproving teacher, though she hadn’t been put off by his gruff replies to her questions. He thought women should sit in chairs and embroider things while fussing over their children, and Karolina didn’t mind doing either. Though, without Hakon to terrify her, she found herself becoming interested in learning how the fort ran, and how safe they were. She had a child to protect and another on the way, and a husband who might not return at all.
Karolina was not prepared to sit in the hall and wait to receive that news.
She wanted to prepare for it.
Having spied the fur traders setting up their table, though, she left Baldur behind, eager to find something warm for Anders. This would be his first winter, and she was conscious of how cold the hall already was. So, hood up, she hurried into the guard tower, and out into the busy market square, where she immediately bumped into Bergit Dyre.
‘You have the same idea as me, my lady!’ Bergit laughed, orange hair dusted with snow. The hood of her cloak had blown back, though she was far more interested in fingering through the furs and pelts than keeping her hair dry. The best ones always went first, and Bergit was not prepared to settle for anything but the best. ‘They say this winter will be worse than any in living memory!’
Karolina frowned, not having heard that. ‘They do? Who? Who says that, Bergit?’ She was curious, and though Karolina had never warmed to the woman, there was no more reliable source of information in all of Slussfall.
‘The old gossips! I’m not sure who they hear it from? Maybe Mother? Though that old dreamer never talked to anyone when she was here, only your husband and Falla Gundersen.’ Bergit scowled, her attention on the pure-white fur she had grabbed at the same time as another woman. Her neighbour. A sour-faced girl, newly married, setting up a home while her husband was away with the army. The girl glared at Bergit, yanking the fur towards her.
Bergit yanked it back, jaw clenched, and a tussle began.
Jonas and Vik watched from behind the fur traders. They had wandered around the square, seeing no sign of Magnus or Leonid, quickly realising that they were going to have to start asking around. And they were more likely to escape notice if they enquired with the women.
If they could stop them fighting.
‘I’m sure I have another one of those in here!’ the big fur trader called out, half amused, half irritated. The two screeching women were scaring away the Lady of Slussfall, who stepped back, not wanting an elbow in her pregnant belly.
Karolina turned away, yelping suddenly, losing her balance, reaching out a hand. ‘Bergit!’
And releasing the fur, Bergit grabbed Karolina before she could fall. ‘What happened?’
Jonas and Vik were alert, dashing around the tables.
‘Are you alright, lady?’ Jonas asked, still holding down his hood.
Bergit looked annoyed, shooing him away. ‘You leave her alone, old man!’ she grumbled, eyes sharp.
Karolina bent down, grabbing her ankle, feeling the sting. ‘Something hit me.’
Vik picked up a rock, shielding it in his hand, glancing across the square, head swivelling through the snow, trying to see where it had come from. ‘The wind’s bad!’ he called to Karolina. ‘Likely it blew something at you. Best you get inside!’ And he headed away from the arguing women and the fur traders, slipping through the snow-blown crowds, eyes open.
If the stone had hit the woman on the ankle...
He dropped his eyes and then blinked, coming face to face with Magnus.
Magnus, who was gripping the bars of a window.
In the prison hole.
Alys was struggling to focus.
They were riding up a narrow path into the mountains, and she needed to concentrate. Haski was prone to skittering sideways, not inclined to bend to her will. She thought of Ludo, who had chosen him for her, almost smiling. And then Sigurd, whose heart was broken. She could feel that. Then feeling cross for letting her mind wander, Alys frowned, bringing her focus back to her dream. She didn’t want to even tiptoe towards the threatening woman’s voice and the odd things she had said. Alys wanted to see more of Magnus. He was imprisoned. Those bars, that smell, the hunched shadows and the rats... Alys was certain he was imprisoned.
But where?
Slussfall?
Her body shivered explosively, answering that question.
And though the thought was terrifying, her hopes lifted, for if Jonas and Vik had taken Magnus to Slussfall, then she stood a chance of finding them all. And Lotta. Wherever she was.
Eddeth nudged her. ‘You should talk to your friend, Ivan!’
Stina hissed for Eddeth to be quiet as her booming voice would soon have everyone turning their way.
Alys just looked confused. ‘About what?’
‘The lord up there. Can’t you see him, swaying like a sapling in a storm? He’ll be face down in the snow before long!’
Alys leaned out, trying to see past Njall, who was like a bear in front of her in his thick fur cloak. And finally, catching a glimpse of Hakon, she could see that he did appear to be heeling to starboard. She smiled sadly, reminded of sailing on Dagger with an injured Sigurd at her feet, Ludo beside her for company, Reinar riding onboard Fury, turning to stare at her often.
She’d always sensed that.
‘Ivan doesn’t need me telling him how to look after his cousin,’ she whispered to Eddeth. ‘They can all see him. Surely?’
But it appeared that they couldn’t, for in the very next breath, Hakon tipped out of his saddle, falling into the snow with a thump, boot stuck in a stirrup. His horse took fright, skipping sideways, legs flicking. Hakon’s boot slid free, and his horse bolted away, down their snowy path. Lief turned, inclining his head for Jerrick to go after him, while he swung down off his own horse.
Eddeth turned to Alys with a shrug.
‘Eddeth!’ came the shout from Ivan, who was quickly on the ground, leaning over his cousin.
‘I’ll go with you,’ Alys said, leaving Stina with Falla Gundersen. And dismounting, handing their reins to Stina, they both hurried up the line to where Hakon was picking himself out of the snow.
‘I was just tired!’ he insisted grumpily, fighting against Lief and Ivan, who were trying to keep him down.
‘Let me see! Let me see!’ Eddeth demanded loudly. ‘Stay where you are and let me
see!’
Alys stood behind her, glancing over Eddeth’s shoulder, ignoring Ivan’s smile. Dense trees fenced them in on both sides. The snow was thick beneath her feet, encasing her boots, and Alys thought wistfully about flames, hot and bright. She turned her head, staring through the trees, listening. The snow made everything quieter, though voices rose as their column came to a creaking halt, none louder than Hakon’s as he fought off Eddeth and her cold hands.
‘You should have stayed in Ottby, Alys Bergstrom.’
Alys froze, shivers racing up her spine, hairs on her arms rising.
She turned, searching the trees.
‘North is not where you belong.’
The memory of that voice was like a blade, and Alys knew it was the woman from her dream.
She felt in danger.
Stepping away from Eddeth, eyes narrowed, she peered into the trees again. And then Ivan was beside her.
‘Is something wrong?’ he whispered, slipping an arm around her waist, lips near her ear. He had noticed an odd look on her face.
Alys slid away from Ivan and his eager hands. ‘I heard a noise.’ She turned back to him, legs shaking. ‘Just a strange noise, though after the vatyr, who knows what’s out there?’
Ivan looked concerned, his head still pounding from the vatyr attack.
‘Come on!’ Hakon bellowed, helped to his feet by Lief and Njall. The pain of his wound was unbearable, though he was working hard not to show it. ‘Come on, Ivan!’
And dragging himself away from Alys, who was far better company than his festering and feeble cousin, Ivan headed back to his horse.
Alys remained where she was, searching the trees again before dropping her shoulders, and turning back to Haski.
After leaving the limping Lady of Slussfall behind, Vik had scouted the square, heading down alleys, slipping around the back of the hall, wanting to keep away from as many people as possible. Eventually, he’d stopped, eyes on the covered entrance to the hole where a handful of well-armed warriors sheltered from the snow, warming their hands over a brazier. One of them he’d recognised: a middle-aged, big-bellied man, with thick coppery braids, swathed in furs. Turning away, Vik had kept walking, hood low, trying to think as he made his way back to Jonas, who was hiding in an alley, sheltering under the porch of a tiny cottage, though the wind was blowing the snow horizontally now, and there was little respite from it. ‘I saw Ollo Narp,’ he muttered when he arrived. ‘Traitorous shit. Dressed like he’s the King of Alekka.’
‘I saw Haegel Hedvik,’ Jonas said. ‘A couple of other faces I recognised too. The Vettel boys have taken their youngest warriors, leaving the old farts behind. Just our luck.’
Vik still couldn’t understand it. ‘How did Magnus wind up in the hole?’
‘Doesn’t matter. We just have to get him out of there fast.’
Tension gripped Vik’s shoulders like a vice; that and the bone-chilling cold, which wouldn’t let up. ‘We have to find somewhere to hide. Somewhere out of sight.’
‘Sounds like that place isn’t going to have a fire and a jug of ale.’
‘I’d say not.’ Vik saw a flash of orange, and the rude woman with the bright hair swept towards them, full basket in her arms, struggling with two new furs which were heavier than she’d anticipated, both of them trying to blow away from her. ‘Would you like some help?’ he offered, leaping into her path, leaving Jonas behind. He pushed back his hood for a moment, smiling.
Vik had a handsome face, barely troubled by a scar, and he knew women responded to him, and this woman was no exception, though there was a wary look in her eyes. Still, he’d watched her as she gossiped her way around the square, and she seemed like the sort of woman who would know everyone’s comings and goings.
‘What are you doing skulking around? Following me?’
Vik grinned, his smile friendly and open. ‘We were here first, lady, so no. We’re fur traders, but they’re mostly sold now, so we’re on our way to the tavern, but I thought you might need some help.’
Bergit wasn’t sure she believed him, though he had a nice face and she did need the help. ‘You can carry those furs for me, up there and around the corner. And that’s all. I have no coins to pay you!’
‘And nor will you need to, for we made enough today thanks to the weather gods!’ Vik sounded confident, cheerful even. He helped himself to the furs, and without even a glance at Jonas, he headed down the alley.
Bergit was grateful for the help, though she didn’t show it.
‘I’m sure your husband will be warm tonight,’ Vik smiled.
Bergit scowled, hurrying along. ‘My husband is none of your business, but be assured that he is more than a match for you if you intend me harm.’
She was feisty, Vik thought, not sure how to charm such an abrasive woman. ‘I intend no harm, and it’s a long time since I used my sword, so your husband has nothing to fear from me.’
Bergit eyed him, relaxing slightly. ‘Of course he hasn’t. My husband is one of Hakon Vettel’s most valued men. He’s been a loyal servant to the Vettels since King Jorek was on the throne. Likely you’ve heard of him. Ulrick Dyre? A famous scout and warrior?’
Vik blinked.
Men were approaching. Young boys, he realised, barely men at all, and he didn’t reach for his hood, keeping his wind-whipped face uncovered. ‘I hear the army has gone to Ottby to try and take back the throne.’
‘And they will! They’ll rip Ake Bluefinn’s head off too. That snivelling usurper, keeping us prisoner all these years. Forcing us to endure his illegitimate reign!’ She reached the doorstep of her cottage, and dropping her basket, she snatched the furs from Vik’s hands. ‘Be on your way now! There’s nothing for you in here!’ And she lurched forward angrily, hand flapping, shooing Vik away.
Vik bobbed his head, still smiling despite the snarling woman’s rudeness. And hood up now, he turned back into the alley, certain that Ulrick had not made it back to Slussfall with Lotta.
The weather disintegrated so much that Ulrick made them stop, pulling Lotta’s pony off what he assumed was the path, into the trees where the snow dropped off branches, falling on them in clumps. Amongst the trees, the wind did not bite as much, so securing the horses with great care, Ulrick grabbed his furs, draping them around both him and Lotta as they sat against a broad tree trunk in the snow.
Lotta shivered against him, teeth chattering as he held her close, and eventually, he felt one of her little arms edge around his belly. Ducking his head down to her, Ulrick held the furs tightly, dreaming of the warmth of a fire and his wife’s sweet face. ‘Tomorrow,’ he whispered in Lotta’s ear. ‘We’ll be at Slussfall tomorrow.’
15
Agnette was surprised to find Elin in her bedchamber, leaning over the baby’s crib.
Elin swung around, flustered.
‘I didn’t expect to find you here,’ Agnette frowned.
‘I, I... thought I heard her crying, but she’s sound asleep.’
Agnette’s shoulders relaxed. ‘I’m sure she is, though come a few hours from now she won’t be!’ She peered into the crib, pleased to see Liara looking so perfectly content. Her heart swelled with love, and she felt terrible for thinking badly of Elin at all. It would be so impossibly hard being around babies, knowing that her sons had never even taken a breath.
‘Well, if you ever need some rest, Agnette, I can take her,’ Elin offered. ‘I’d be happy to. Until we go, of course, though I don’t know when that will be. Likely soon. Everyone seems quite impatient about it, especially Reinar.’
‘Go? To Slussfall? You’re going?’ Agnette took a seat on the bed, not worried about waking her daughter, knowing that she was due for another feed soon.
Elin nodded, sitting down beside her. ‘I don’t want to be left behind. After being apart all those weeks, I don’t want Reinar to leave me here.’
Agnette always struggled not to say what was on her mind. She didn’t want to upset Elin, who looked swollen-eyed
and exhausted, but she’d felt troubled from the first moment she’d seen her friend again. ‘I never thought you’d return, Elin. You swore you wouldn’t. You said you...’ Her eyes raced to the open door, and she lowered her voice. ‘You said you didn’t love Reinar anymore. I thought you came back because of Torvig, wanting to save him, not for Reinar.’
Elin clenched her hands in her lap. They were chapped, red and dry; cold too. ‘I...’ She looked up at Agnette, who had once been her best friend, though they had drifted apart over the years. ‘I saw a dreamer in Lundvik. She warned me about Torvig. I tried to save him, but I couldn’t get back in time.’
Agnette nodded encouragingly, knowing that, but sensing there was more.
‘She told me many things about my future. About what was... happening here.’
Agnette’s eyes opened wider, limbs twitching. ‘Oh?’
‘About the dreamer and Reinar.’
Agnette tried to remain perfectly still. ‘Dreamer?’ Her voice sounded oddly high-pitched, and she coughed, trying to cover her awkwardness.
‘She told me everything, you needn’t worry, Agnette. I know everything that happened.’
‘Happened?’ Just repeating whatever Elin said would not get her out of trouble, Agnette knew. ‘There was a dreamer in the group of women they stole from Ullaberg, but she’s gone now. They’re almost all gone now, just that Ilene stayed behind.’ Agnette felt sad, thinking about Tulia again, remembering how she’d trained Ilene.
‘So you never saw the dreamer with Reinar? Never saw them together?’
Agnette felt as though her toes were being dragged towards a burning fire. The desperate look in Elin’s big eyes told her that there was no escape now. She swallowed. ‘They were often together, of course. He needed her help. Salma was gone, and Reinar needed her help. We had a terrible time, terrorised by a wolf nightmare, and then the fort was under attack from Hakon Vettel and his evil dreamer.’ Agnette grabbed Elin’s hand, needing to turn her away from the path she seemed so determined to go down. ‘Whatever the dreamer told you, it sounds as though she misunderstood. Reinar was with Alys because she was helping him. That’s all.’ Agnette felt the need to lie. It would break Elin’s heart to know that Reinar had become besotted with a pretty dreamer while she was gone. She appeared more fragile than ever; Agnette could see that when she looked into Elin’s frantic eyes. ‘Reinar loves you. He was broken-hearted without you. Beside himself with worry!’
