by A. E. Rayne
Alys shivered, hoping the old witch hadn’t told him about Lotta. ‘I had no choice but to try and stop her. We were on opposite sides. Reinar Vilander promised us our freedom if we helped him defend his fort. Your dreamer was trying to hurt us. To hurt me. I did what I could, what I was ordered to do.’
‘And how?’ Hakon wondered, staring closely. Something about Alys was familiar, though he didn’t know what. ‘How did you kill her?’
Alys hesitated, knowing that if the old woman had been telling tales, she could hardly lie now. ‘I asked the gods for help.’ She almost whispered it, anticipating what would come next.
Hakon lurched off the stump, pain searing through his belly, glaring down at her. ‘You spoke to the gods? Which gods?’
‘Valera.’
‘And she listened to you? Helped you?’
Alys nodded.
Hakon’s eyes darted around the tent, his stomach rumbling. The heat from the mark was noticeable now too; a burning sensation over his heart. He touched it absentmindedly, trying to focus on what Alys had said, before dragging his hand away, suddenly self-conscious around the dreamer. ‘Why would she help you?’
Alys couldn’t speak; she didn’t know what to say.
‘And? Why would she help you?’ Hakon spat angrily, grabbing Alys’ chin, roughly tilting it towards his face, feeling her soft skin, enjoying the fear in her eyes.
‘I... I don’t know, my lord.’ Alys’ thoughts were scrambled. She couldn’t find a way to safety. ‘I... there are many gods. They don’t all want the same thing. We are favoured by some but not others. I... I have little knowledge of these things.’
Seeing how terrified Alys was, Hakon leaned over, wanting to make her even more so. ‘But you will learn, won’t you?’
Alys didn’t even blink.
‘You will learn for me, Alys, for now, you are my dreamer, and you will help make me the king I was born to be.’
Ivan paced outside Hakon’s tent, wanting to go in. He could hear his cousin bellowing occasionally, Alys yelping often, and it worried him. Hakon was erratic normally, but after what had happened in the forest...
Eddeth twitched beside him, ankle throbbing. ‘What is he doing?’ she hissed anxiously, trying to get Ivan’s attention. ‘Hurting her?’
Ivan’s loyalty had always been to Hakon, and he turned to Eddeth with anger in his usually cheerful eyes. ‘Is she a dreamer?’ he growled. ‘Is my cousin right?’
Eddeth’s eyes bulged, not wanting to reveal things they had sworn not to say. But it appeared that Hakon had found it out for himself, and there was little Eddeth could do about it now. ‘So I... believe.’ Her eyes darted past Ivan to where their horses remained tied up amongst the trees.
Blinking.
She could no longer see Stina.
III
Prisoners
24
Bergit was in a terrible state. Angry. Throwing things.
She’d already smashed two bowls as she stormed from one end of the tiny cottage to the other.
Lotta didn’t know where to look as she sat on a stool by the fire, hands clasped in her lap, eyes on the flames. Her great-grandfather was in the fort, likely imprisoned. Magnus too. And Vik was out there somewhere.
She remembered Vik Lofgren. He had carried her on his shoulders when they’d visited Jonas once. He was Jonas’ best friend; a famous warrior, she remembered Magnus telling her. He was a bear man. Lotta had wanted to know what that was, but Magnus didn’t know.
So if Vik was still free, there was a chance he could rescue Jonas and Magnus.
But as for her?
Lotta tried to ignore the angry woman, closing her eyes, wanting to escape into the darkness of her mind, but suddenly, Bergit was at the door, swinging it open.
‘Go!’ she shouted, pointing at Lotta. ‘You’re not wanted here. Just leave. Go! Go on, leave!’
Lotta stumbled to her feet, eyes on the freedom that beckoned. She froze, though, certain that Ulrick would be unhappy with his wife. But Bergit wasn’t waiting for the girl to make up her mind, and, in a heartbeat, she’d grabbed Lotta by the hand and thrown her outside.
Ulrick’s frown was deep. Seeing Bergit had been nothing but disappointing; shockingly so. They’d talked about another child for years. She’d appeared broken-hearted and bereft when she spoke of their dead daughter, Gala. He thought the sight of Lotta would have been a joyful moment to share, making their family whole again.
Shoulders slumping, Ulrick tried to focus. He needed to find a man with a ship and for that, he was going to have to speak to Ollo Narp. Unsurprisingly, he was loitering outside the tavern, head together with Haegel Hedvik, who had the brain of an idiot donkey. ‘And what are you going to do about your spy, Ollo? Your prisoner?’ he wondered sharply, enjoying the spark of anger in the rotund man’s eyes as he turned around. ‘I’ve heard nothing but angry grumbles all morning. No one’s happy about him being here. Doubt he’ll be safe in that hole for long.’
Sending Haegel on his way with a nod, Ollo flicked his tongue over his teeth, trying to appear far more nonchalant than he felt. ‘Why do you care so much, Ulrick? When did you ever care about anyone but yourself?’ He wasn’t about to be intimidated. Ulrick was an old hand of the Vettels, put to use like a pack-horse. He was no lord, no leader. Never had been. Never would be.
‘You think Hakon wants to hear how you let that old man creep around his fort, picking up information for Ake?’ It wasn’t what Ulrick wanted to talk about, but the idea that Jonas Bergstrom was Lotta’s great-grandfather had unsettled him almost as much as Bergit’s reaction to the girl. He needed the old man seen to, removed as quickly as possible.
‘Ha!’ Ollo wasn’t about to be moved. ‘You’re full of fanciful ideas, Ulrick. I would’ve thought you’d be too busy reuniting with your wife to be worried about what I do with my prisoners. Can’t imagine why you’re strutting around the square so early. Things can’t have gone well...’
Ulrick scowled, quickly annoyed. ‘What I do with my wife is of no concern of yours.’
‘No?’ Ollo wanted Ulrick back on his heels, well away from him and any plans he was making for Jonas. ‘She’s been very busy in the market. Shopping daily. Buying all manner of fabrics and furnishings. I imagine she has her heart set on a big house in the big city.’ He eyed Ulrick, watching his discomfort grow. ‘You and I don’t need to be enemies.’ And opening out his ringed hands, Ollo smiled magnanimously. ‘We can both get what we want, surely?’
Ulrick stepped back, taking the measure of the man. It surprised him to see a hint of a spine. ‘Well, keep Jonas Bergstrom locked up tight till Hakon returns and I’ll have no problem with you, Ollo. Though, I can’t say the same for everyone else.’
‘And why do you have it in for the old man, then?’
‘Jonas Bergstrom?’ And now Ulrick was snarling. ‘He killed more of my friends than I can count, and Hakon will want him to pay for his crimes against his family. Know that. Whatever you’re planning, know that.’
Ollo picked up his shoulders, straightening them with a frown, eyes shifting past Ulrick to the alley, where a cold-looking little girl had emerged, glancing around. ‘And the girl? She doesn’t belong to you. What do you want with her?’
Ulrick looked further incensed, and leaning forward, he grabbed Ollo’s cloak. ‘I saved her, worm. She’s mine, so you needn’t concern yourself with the girl. Bergit and I are looking after her now.’ And he shoved Ollo away.
‘Is that so?’ Ollo smiled, adjusting his cloak. ‘You’re looking after that girl, are you? Poor thing looks a little cold to me. Make sure you find her something warm to wear if you’re going to let her wander around the fort all day. Think we’re in for more snow!’ And with that, Ollo strode away, eyes on the prison bars, hoping Haegel could get his message to Vik Lofgren.
Ulrick spun around, hurrying towards Lotta, who was doing her best not to cry. She was too cold to do much more than shiver and shake and stare.
; ‘What happened?’ And bending down, Ulrick pulled her into his arms, trying to warm her up. ‘How did you escape? Why?’ He whispered in her ear, not wanting anyone to hear.
Lotta didn’t mind his hug because his cloak was furry and warm. She almost felt safe as she leaned into him. ‘Your w-w-wife...’
Ulrick pulled back, staring at her.
‘She threw me out. Told me to g-go.’
Ulrick’s shock was painful, but he quickly cleared his face. ‘Well, I think you misheard her, little princess.’ And standing, he took Lotta’s hand in his, leading her back down the alley to the cottage, afraid of what he would find. ‘You see, Bergit loves children, especially little girls with long blonde hair. I think, perhaps, she just doesn’t like surprises. Don’t worry, we’ll smooth everything over. Don’t worry now.’
But Lotta was worrying. She had seen so many frightening things in her dreams.
She was worrying very much indeed.
Magnus frowned, turning to his great-grandfather who stood next to him, eyes on the square, watching Lotta. ‘She didn’t even look our way.’
Jonas snorted to cover up his own concern. ‘Why would she? She didn’t spend a day surveying the fort like you. She doesn’t know we’re over here, does she?’ It was odd, he thought, that Lotta hadn’t looked around at all. She knew they were there, and yet she’d seemed comfortable with Ulrick Dyre, hugging him eagerly.
That was something, Jonas supposed, relieved to think that the man wasn’t mistreating her. But still, he’d have expected her to look around.
His eyes moved to Ollo, who strode across the square as though it was his own personal domain. Jonas hoped it was. He hoped that Ollo Narp had enough power in his sweaty little hands to get them all out of the fort alive.
Dragging Alys out of his tent, Hakon peered at Ivan, thick eyebrows almost meeting in the middle of his frown. ‘Why are you standing around? The sun is up! We must get on the road, Cousin! Get moving. Get everyone moving!’ He glanced at Eddeth, who was peering at Alys with terrified eyes. ‘And where’s your other friend, then? The dark-haired woman?’
Eddeth jerked upright. ‘I haven’t seen her, my lord. Not a sign!’
Alys could hear Eddeth’s screaming thoughts, worried that they would tumble out of her flapping mouth. ‘She wasn’t well this morning. It’s been a hard time for her. They were not kind to us in Ottby.’
‘No?’ Both Ivan and Hakon were suddenly more curious to hear Ottby gossip than worrying about where Stina had gone.
‘Stina was raped,’ Alys whispered, working to keep their attention on her. ‘Repeatedly. Another of the women threw herself into the sea. They were... not kind.’
Ivan was surprised.
So was Hakon, as Mother had implied almost the complete opposite. ‘Even Reinar Vilander himself?’
Eddeth quickly glanced at her boots, noticing how muddy they were.
‘He was... distracted,’ Alys said carefully. ‘His wife was missing. There were rumours that she’d killed herself. He was unhappy. Angry.’
Ivan eyed his cousin, who lifted an eyebrow, further intrigued. ‘And is that true? Did she kill herself?’
‘I don’t know,’ Alys lied. ‘I’m not an experienced dreamer, as I told the Lord of Ottby, but I saw glimpses of his wife plotting her escape. She lost her babies, you see. They were stillborn. It weighed on her, and she blamed her husband’s bad luck for causing it. She ran away from him.’
Eddeth was surprised to hear Alys blabber on, pleased not to be accused of revealing all their secrets herself. But she could sense how desperately she was trying to keep the Vettels’ minds off Stina, hoping to give her enough time to escape. And nodding enthusiastically, she encouraged Alys to carry on, which she did.
‘I saw that she’d left. Reinar Vilander’s cousin had helped her escape. But what became of her after that, I don’t know. He wanted to find her, though. That was all he cared about. Your army was a distraction he didn’t need. He just wanted to find his wife.’
Hakon listened with open ears, pleased to have such insight. He had affection for his own wife, but to be so distracted by her disappearance? Shaking his head, he flicked a hand at Ivan. ‘Get everyone moving, Cousin. Lief and Jerrick will help you.’ He pulled Alys to him. ‘I want to hear more. You will ride with me this morning. I want to hear all about Reinar Vilander and his weaknesses. This man captured you, killed your husband...’ He stared into her eyes, squeezing her arm until he saw her flinch. ‘Perhaps he did this to you?’ And he ran a gloved finger over the faded bruises on Alys’ face.
Ivan watched, fists clenched. ‘I doubt Mother would have taken it well if you’d put your hands on her,’ he muttered, risking his cousin’s wrath. But realising that Hakon wouldn’t listen to him even if he could hear him, he turned away, wanting to hurry everyone along, for if he could get them onto their horses quickly, he could ride with Hakon and Alys and try to keep her safe.
Alys watched Ivan go, feeling more vulnerable. ‘The battle...’ she tried. ‘So many boulders hit the fort. I fell. More than once.’
Hakon smiled, remembering Ottby. He’d felt invincible as Mother worked her magic and Ivan led their men forward, arrows shooting ahead of them, boulders shattering the walls, gates crashing open. He could almost smell the strange smoke in his nostrils, and he sighed. ‘Well, perhaps you will have your revenge, Alys? Would you like that? Like to see Reinar Vilander again? Watch him die by my hand?’
He was breathing on her, his face edging closer and closer, and there was nothing for Alys to do but nod. ‘Yes. I... would.’
Neither Agnette nor Gerda looked pleased with the news that everyone would be leaving in four days.
‘But, but...’ Gerda spluttered, pushing her bowl of porridge away, eyes on Liara, who lay asleep in Agnette’s arms. ‘The fort isn’t ready, and what about Odd Forsten? Can you still trust him with such a responsibility at his age?’ She peered around the hall, hoping that Odd hadn’t crept in, though there was no one but servants to see. ‘If only Tulia were here.’ She said that somewhat wistfully, surprising everyone.
‘Well, if Tulia were here I imagine she’d be going with them, Aunty,’ Agnette murmured, not wanting to wake her daughter. Or did she? She found herself fretting constantly, which was unlike her. Lack of sleep had her mind in a disorganised mess, and she couldn’t decide on the right path to take. ‘Wouldn’t she?’
Reinar nodded, wishing Tulia was there too, blaming himself that she wasn’t. More than anyone, Tulia had warned him about Torvig. He felt Elin still beside him, uncomfortable that her brother was the reason for all their distress.
‘She would, of course,’ Bjarni said with a yawn, barely making it through one bowl of porridge. He was almost too tired to eat. ‘But she’s not, which Sigurd knows only too well.’ He glanced at Agnette, who nodded, yawning herself.
They were all silent then, thinking about Sigurd, who pushed open the hall doors with a groan, surprised by the silence that greeted him. He felt odd, surprised not to see Tulia there. He kept expecting to find her everywhere he went, long black braid swishing behind her, smug smile on her face; that look in her eye that said it was time to go back to their chamber. ‘What?’ He saw pity in most pairs of eyes, discomfort in Elin’s. And guessing what they were talking about, he almost turned to leave. ‘Are you still eating?’ he asked instead, walking towards Reinar and Bjarni. ‘Come on! The weather’s closing in out there. If we want to gather up our weapons, we should make a move.’
‘And what about the snow?’ Gerda implored, on her feet now. ‘You’re going to war in the snow? Like those Vettels?’ She turned to her husband, who was sound asleep in his wheelchair beside her. ‘You know what your father would say about that!’
‘I do, but Ake’s ordered us to go, Mother,’ Reinar said calmly, smiling at Elin as he stood, placing a hand on her shoulder, kissing the top of her head. ‘He wants the Vettels ended before they become an even bigger problem for him. He’s enough on his
plate without Hakon and Ivan causing more trouble. They’re ours to deal with, so we’ll take our ships to war in the snow. Just like the Vettels.’ He grinned at his father in passing. ‘But unlike the Vettels, we won’t be defeated.’
Stina had been forgotten.
Alys hoped that was true. She rode in between Ivan and Hakon, trying not to let her worries show on her face. From experience, she knew it was a problem she struggled with, which wasn’t helpful for a dreamer who was always seeing and hearing things. Alys wished she could see or hear something useful now, but her mind was trapped in the present, where her hands were red with cold, and her legs ached, and Eddeth rode behind her with Falla, sneezing often.
And then there was Hakon, who hammered her with questions, interrogating her, giving her little chance to think. Ivan tried to shield her, though he was on the back foot when it came to his cousin, and he often retreated into an indistinguishable mumble.
‘We’ll be at Slussfall in two days.’ That thought had Hakon forgetting every ache and pain in his belly; every odd burning sensation in his chest too. His mind was fixed on the fortress. His father hadn’t managed to capture it in three attempts, but Hakon had, and remembering that gave him a lift. With Ivan and Lief by his side, he had taken that old fortress, and now, he would retreat inside its comforting walls and plan his next attack.
With a dreamer by his side.
They were riding beneath a sky of dull clouds which threatened snow, though so far only a handful of flurries had drifted down towards them. The tree cover was sparse now, and their column marched slowly up the incline. The mountains were Ivan’s least favourite part of the journey, though at least they weren’t lugging the siege towers and catapults back with them.
All of those had been abandoned.
