by A. E. Rayne
And hand frozen against Haski’s cheek, Alys saw an image of Jonas, hood over his face, hiding in a dark street. Terror gripping her body, she closed her eyes, trying to see more.
Ollo Narp’s pouch was heavy, banging against his thigh, a reminder of how much more silver awaited him when he delivered the boy to his grandfather. One of the prison guards was Elmar Soti, an old friend whose wife he often humped. She was just as hungry for Ollo’s coins as her husband. A couple of very useful mercenaries, he thought to himself, whispering in Elmar’s ear.
And nodding, Elmar slipped the coins Ollo had pressed into his sweaty palm into his pouch, turning back to the prison door.
Jonas Bergstrom had been a famed warrior in his time. The gods had favoured him highly, Ollo knew. They would not wish to see a man like that betrayed. Jonas had survived the worst battles in Alekka’s history with all his limbs intact. There was barely a scar on the man. And Ollo knew that to betray him now would be to spit in the eyes of the gods themselves.
And yet...
Vik didn’t feel good as he headed away from the main gates. The fur traders had walked down to the harbour, and Vik was certain they’d have a more comfortable night sleeping on their ships than he would lying in his bed of snowy dirt. He thought of his fishing boat, seeing lightning strike it like an attack from Thenor himself. He was meant to be here, he knew, yet he’d let Magnus walk into that fort on his own, and now he was leaving Jonas behind.
His chest tightened as he turned, eyes up on the guard towers that were dark now, the men watching from the ramparts just silhouettes, hoping they hadn’t been fools to trust Ollo Narp.
Alys felt panic shutting her down, unable to think.
She needed to warn her grandfather. She was too far away, but she needed to do something. And fumbling to open her cloak, she dug into her pouch with frozen fingers, pulling out his arm ring.
‘You’re coming with me,’ growled the deep voice of the bald-headed guard. There may have been no hair left on top of his shiny head, but he had an enormous bush of a beard, and as he leaned over, it tickled Magnus’ face. He had ice-cold hands, rough too, and he grabbed Magnus quickly, yanking him to his feet, away from Leonid.
Leonid scrambled to his feet, skidding in the dirt. ‘Wait! What are you doing to him? Where are you taking him?’
‘My friend, my friend!’ Magnus pleaded. ‘What about my friend?’ But the guard wasn’t listening as he dragged Magnus out of the hole, slamming the door shut after him.
‘Be quiet, you blathering arse!’ came a grumbling voice in the darkness, quickly joined by a chorus of other miserable men, all demanding that Leonid sit down and leave them in peace.
Magnus could hear them as he was dragged into the dark corridor that ran from the prison entrance to the stairs. And that handful of stairs led up to the square, he remembered, eyes darting around, unfazed by the guard’s strong grip on his arm. He peered into the darkness, looking for signs of Jonas and Vik, wondering what was happening.
And then another man emerged from the shadows, looking him over. ‘Well, now, so you’re what all the fuss is about. Seems to me we’d better get going. Don’t want to be left behind when those gates shut, do you, boy?’
Jonas’ eyes slid right to the guards at the gates, who were impatiently ushering the last few traders out now, and then to the left, where he saw Ollo emerge from the prison hole stairs, a small cloaked figure beside him.
Shoulders tensing further, Jonas watched as Ollo handed Magnus off to another man, this one a trader he recognised from earlier, and that man quickly wrapped an arm around Magnus’ shoulder and started heading across the square.
Holding his breath, Jonas caught Ollo’s eye, nodding to him.
Ollo nodded back, almost imperceptibly and turned, arms out, trying to shepherd everyone out of the square. ‘Be on your way! More snow’s coming, can’t you feel it? Be on your way now! It’s time to go!’ He watched as the trader ushered the boy towards the gates, gripping his pouch, knowing how much heavier it would soon be.
And taking a deep breath, Jonas slipped out of the alley, joining the exodus. He’d seen many of the traders over the two days they’d been in the fort, and he smiled at a few, bobbing his head, before lifting it as a man rode through the gates astride a dirty-white horse, a little girl sitting in front of him.
A little girl with a heart-shaped face and ice-blonde hair.
21
Vik had seen Ulrick Dyre riding into the fort with Lotta, but there was nothing he could do. His mind skipped through every possible outcome, seeing none that were good. They just had to get Magnus out of the fort, and then they could go back inside for Lotta.
He stood to one side of the gates, deep in shadow, waiting for Magnus and Jonas to come out.
Magnus stumbled, mouth dropping open, staring up at his sister as she rode towards him on Ulrick’s horse. He lifted his eyes, hood falling back, and Ulrick felt Lotta’s head snap up, her body rigid.
‘What is it?’ he wondered, eyes drifting, seeing Magnus. Confusion then. Shock. And he shouted. ‘Hey!’
The trader next to Magnus froze.
Jonas, some way back from Magnus froze.
Ollo, who’d had one eye on the tavern froze, and turning around with a grumble, he headed back into the square.
‘What are you doing with that boy?’ Ulrick growled, glancing around, wondering if the farmer was there. Wondering how Magnus was there.
In Slussfall?
‘That’s the boy who killed Malik Valborg!’ someone called.
Everyone held their ground then, turning to Magnus, who could feel the trader slink away, leaving him all alone.
Jonas was caught. He had to do something.
Eyes on Lotta, who sat astride Ulrick’s horse, terror in her eyes, he pushed through the crowd, heart thumping.
Things accelerated quickly.
The crowd, many of whom had been friends with and loyal to the dead silversmith, rounded on Magnus.
Hounds were barking in the distance, chasing a fox, who was tearing through the square with a chicken in its mouth.
‘He didn’t kill Malick!’ someone called, impatient to get through the gates. ‘Leave the boy alone! That fool Leonid knocked him down. It was an accident!’
‘He was dragged off to the hole!’ another shouted. ‘How’s he out here? He’s escaping! Where’s Ollo? Where’s Baldur? He’s escaping!’
Ollo puffed out a furious breath, thumbs tucked into his belt, seeing his plans unravel with speed, and pushing his way through the crowd, he started shouting himself. ‘What’s going on here? What’s all this noise? Make way! Move!’ And eyes up on Ulrick Dyre, who had caused all the trouble, he glanced around. ‘What’s your complaint with this boy?’
‘He was in the hole, Ollo. You put him there!’
That was true, and Ollo had no power to release him either, which he knew most people knew, and he took one look at Magnus, as though surprised. ‘You trying to escape, boy? Maybe you bribed one of my guards?’ He knew Jonas would be nearby, and he only hoped that he would make himself scarce. If he wanted his grandson out, he couldn’t afford to insert himself into the melee now. Ollo yanked Magnus’ shoulder. ‘You’re coming with me. Back to your friends, the rats!’
A few cheers then, though some felt sorry for the miserable-looking boy, knowing Malick Valborg’s death had been nothing to do with him.
Magnus panicked. The prison hole terrified him. The smell, the darkness, the fear of rats gnawing on him while he slept. ‘No, please! Help me, please! Grandfather!’
Lotta’s head was moving then, scanning the crowd, her eyes meeting Jonas’. He looked away, and so did Lotta, but not quickly enough. And Ulrick swung down from his horse with a creak, squaring his shoulders, eyes on Jonas, every sense on high alert. He twisted his head, seeing the wailing boy pleading with the old man, and he scowled. He was not about to let anyone stand in the way of his escape with Bergit and Lotta.
The ho
unds charged through the crowd, looking for the fox, knocking a man off his feet. And that man fell onto Jonas, who slipped on the icy surface, hitting the ground with a crack, hood falling back.
Some who had seen the old man fall, rushed to help him back to his feet. And as he struggled up, Jonas tried to bat them away, desperate to grab his hood to cover his face.
But it was too late.
‘That’s Jonas Bergstrom!’
‘Can’t be, he’s long since dead! Jesper killed him!’
‘It’s him, look!’
And the crowd surged towards Jonas, who straightened up, hood over his face, hearing Alys’ urgent warning in his ears.
Knowing that she was too late.
‘You’ll be pleased to escape from here,’ Falla suggested, staring at Alys. It was almost entirely dark now, though the flames from the fire lit her face and Falla frowned, sensing again that she looked familiar. ‘For we are certainly cursed now.’ She saw Lief with Hakon and Ivan and their men in the distance, feeling free to talk of her fears. And she felt them acutely. With a child in Slussfall and another on the way, she felt terror closing in around her, fearing what would come in the night.
Eddeth sat opposite her, lifting a leg up to the flames as she pruned her toenails. ‘Well, I’d say that’s true. The Hunter said as much, didn’t he?’
‘Did he?’
Alys could tell that Eddeth was distracted and it worried her. It required a lot of focus for Eddeth to keep her thoughts under control, and when not under control, those thoughts had a habit of popping out of her mouth.
‘Of course!’ Eddeth dropped her left leg back to the ground, rolling down her trouser, and picking up her right. Her toenails were viciously thick and long, and walking had become painful. She needed to trim them before they started their journey in the morning. And thinking of their journey had Eddeth’s mind buzzing. But seeing Alys and Stina watching her across the flames, she blinked, trying to focus. Dropping her right leg, Eddeth smiled, turning to Falla. ‘Your lord has work ahead of him, yes indeed, but he can redeem himself, I’m sure. Unless, of course...’ And Eddeth sneezed over the flames, making them hiss.
‘Unless what?’ Falla whispered.
Eddeth’s eyes were wide as she remembered that dark figure with the enormous antlers. Never in her life had she imagined meeting a creature from her nightmares, and now she had met two. She shivered all over. ‘Unless Thenor has already made up his mind. To have sent The Hunter after Hakon like that? Well, who knows what he’s thinking, but if he bears the mark it’s surely only a matter of –’
‘Eddeth!’ Stina muttered. ‘I’m sure Falla doesn’t want to hear that.’
‘But I do,’ Falla whispered. ‘I do. I’m carrying a child. My boy is in Slussfall.’ Her eyes blurred with tears, her body curling forward. ‘I don’t want to be doomed by a cursed lord. I must survive for my children.’
Alys understood how she felt. She glanced around. ‘But what can you do? Your husband is loyal to the lord, is he not?’
Stina’s eyes opened wide, staring at Alys, wondering what she was doing.
But Alys could feel what was in Falla’s heart, and she continued. ‘Your husband...’
‘Lief is loyal to the Vettels,’ Falla said with some resentment. ‘His family was in Stornas with the old king. He believes they’re the gods’ choice to rule Alekka.’
‘Perhaps they are,’ Eddeth mused, eyes lost in the mesmerising flames. She felt sleepy, forgetting all about her toenails, thoughts meandering again. ‘Or perhaps the gods have simply changed their minds?’
And then an explosion of noise, birds launching themselves out of the trees, flying away into the night sky. They could feel the air from their flapping wings like an icy wind.
Eddeth yelped, biting her tongue.
Stina grabbed Alys’ arm, shuddering. ‘What was that?’
Heads back, the four women stared up at the trees as the birds disappeared, the echo of their screeching cries reverberating around them like laughter.
Ulrick threw back his hood, eyes on the old man. ‘Strange place to find one of Ake’s old hands. In the market for a new fur, were you? A few spices?’ He stepped towards Jonas, breath smoking in the near darkness. The hounds had run through the gates, barking ecstatically in the distance, and now silence descended upon the fort. ‘And what sort of master of the square are you, Ollo Narp? Letting a spy make himself at home? I doubt Hakon will be pleased to hear about this.’
Ollo was reminded of what a stingy young lord Hakon Vettel was. And he knew Jonas to be an honest man. And if Jonas had promised him silver, then he was determined to see him deliver on that promise.
But to do so would require some careful maneuvering.
‘Ahhh, Ulrick, what brings you back so soon? Did the lord not require your services for the big battle with the Vilanders? Perhaps he has other, younger men to call upon now?’ Ollo pushed out his girth, feeling slippery ice beneath his boots. And then he caught a glimpse of another familiar figure lurking by the gates. Just a hint of a face, but he knew that face well, and ignoring any discomfort, his hopes rose.
Jonas saw a hint of that face too, and he willed Vik away, wanting him out of it. If he was going to get himself thrown into the hole or killed, Vik needed to stay safe. He had to get the children. ‘Ulrick Dyre, you appear to have my great-granddaughter! And that there is her brother. I came for them. Heard someone had stolen them, and now I know who!’ He felt enraged, temper exploding, ready to make a fuss.
The crowd grew mostly silent, some muttering to each other, quickly taking sides.
Not everyone liked Ulrick Dyre. Or, at least, they didn’t like his busy-body wife. And Jonas Bergstrom was a famed warrior, his feats carved into the old saga stones that marked the road to Slussfall. Others had family members and friends whose lives had been taken by Jonas and his brotherhood of warriors loyal to Ake Bluefinn. They looked on with sharp eyes, not noticing the snow that was falling now.
Ollo did, though, and he thought of the warm tavern and his frozen feet. He needed to move things along quickly. ‘Why do you have his grandchildren, Ulrick?’
Lotta remained silent, trying to find a path in the darkness, worried that one wrong word would doom them all. She closed her eyes, hoping to hear her mother’s voice, but all she heard was the beat of her heart.
Ulrick stepped even closer to Ollo, not appreciating the man calling him out. ‘That’s the question on your lips? You’ve one of Hakon Vettel’s enemies standing right behind you, and that’s your question? Why is the old man not in the hole already? Or on the block, your sword at his neck?’
Ollo frowned, nibbling his moustache. He turned back to Jonas with annoyance in his eyes, realising that he was going to have to twist himself into knots to get out of this mess. ‘I don’t dispense justice in Slussfall, Ulrick Dyre, and nor do you. I’ll have a word with Baldur, see what he wants to do about the old man.’
‘He’s our enemy!’ Ulrick insisted loudly, his cries echoed by more than one voice in the crowd.
‘I’m not your enemy!’ Jonas spat. ‘We fought on opposite sides once, but I haven’t seen a shield wall in many a year. Look at me! Do I look like I came here spying? I came here for my grandchildren. I came to take them home!’
Murmurs of sympathy then. A few grumbles too.
‘A good story, Jonas. I’m sure Hakon will enjoy hearing it when he returns. I’m sure he’d love to hear what one of the men who killed his grandfather has to say about everything.’
Murmurs rose into mutters, dark scowls and angry growls now, and Ollo realised that he was squeezed into a corner. ‘Elmar! Rolf! Take him to the hole! The boy too!’ And sniffing, he eyed the long-bearded Ulrick Dyre, wheeling around and heading past Jonas, who, surrounded by traders and merchants and curious onlookers, was quickly overwhelmed.
‘No! No!’ Magnus screamed, eyes bulging in terror, looking from Jonas to Lotta, who hadn’t said a word, and finally to Ulrick, who turned awa
y from them all, gathering his horse’s reins, eager to see his wife.
Hakon wanted another cup of ale, though he could barely form a word. He doubted he could even stand, though it would hardly encourage confidence to stumble about like a drunk, so he pushed away his cup with a sigh, turning to his cousin. ‘We heard that noise last night,’ he slurred, the loud echoes of the scattering birds ringing in his ears, bleary eyes on Ivan, who sat awkwardly before him.
Ivan remembered.
He remembered what came after it too.
‘We’re in the forest, my lord,’ Lief said calmly, not having touched a drop of ale. ‘We’ll always hear such noises. Likely a storm’s coming. Winter’s already here, I’d say. Things will only get worse.’
Ivan’s shoulders were so tight it was painful. He couldn’t think, couldn’t see his way out of the maze of worries crowding his mind. ‘Won’t be long till we’re home, though. No more forests. No more strange noises then.’ He didn’t believe that. Whatever was out there felt as though it wasn’t going away anytime soon.
‘We should talk about that!’ Hakon decided. ‘Talk about how to attack Ottby again. Or not Ottby. Forget Ottby. Let’s sail straight to Stornas!’ He leaned forward, the ale dulling his senses, making him forget his wound, and yelping, he jerked backwards.
‘Cousin?’
Hakon felt cross, remembering the arrogant look on Reinar Vilander’s face as he’d stabbed him. Anger simmered, and Hakon clenched his hand around his cup, lost in the memories of Ottby; the smoke and the noise and the pain and the panic.
