by A. E. Rayne
Bergit had no intention of being stuck listening to those drunk old men telling stories she’d heard too many times, so she’d taken Lotta back to the cottage. Ulrick felt concerned about leaving Lotta with her, but Bergit had assured him that she no longer wanted to throw the girl out.
What she wanted was information.
‘We have a lot of packing to do, and, typically, for my husband, little time in which to do it!’ Bergit grumbled, eyes on Lotta, who stood by the bedchamber door, not knowing where to look.
‘I can help,’ she tried.
Bergit hated the sound of her whiny little voice. ‘No need,’ she smiled tightly. ‘You just stay where you are. I’ll get everything ready, and then I’ll think of supper.’
Lotta nodded, though she felt awkward just standing there. Her mother had made her and Magnus help with the chores. There was always so much to do, and no time to sit around. Mostly, she hadn’t minded helping, but sometimes she’d wanted to stay in bed or play with her friends. Lotta wrinkled her nose, knowing it was probably more than just sometimes.
‘And who was that boy?’ Bergit wondered lightly, on her hands and knees, wiping the inside of her wooden chest with a cloth. Ulrick had told her some tale that made no sense, and not one that revealed the truth, she was sure. ‘The one calling out to you from the hole?’
Lotta tried to hide her face.
‘Someone, I’d say. Someone who knows you.’
Lotta knew that lying would likely get her a slap. In fact, she could read Bergit’s thoughts, and lying would most certainly get her a slap. ‘My brother.’
Now Bergit’s eyes were wide with surprise. ‘Your brother’s here? How is your brother here? Where did he come from? Where did you come from?’ Cloth still in her hand, she motioned for Lotta to come closer. ‘Sit here, take that stool.’ And when Lotta had made herself comfortable, Bergit took a seat before her, quickly glancing at the door. ‘Now, tell me, how did you really come to be with my husband? And how did your brother come to be here, locked in that hole?’
Karolina sat in Hakon’s chair, perched upon a fur-covered dais, growing nervous. Her servant stood beside her with Anders in her arms, and Karolina was suddenly aware of how urgently Anders needed to be changed.
The smell was eye-watering.
‘My lady?’ Baldur was growing impatient, watching as Karolina’s attention kept wandering. It was like talking to a child. He clenched his jaw, trying to smile.
‘I’m not sure why it needs to be decided now,’ Karolina sighed. ‘Why not wait until my husband returns?’ She felt indecisive, uncomfortable making such important decisions without knowing what Hakon would want her to do.
‘But my lady, the hole is filling up fast. We’ve had two murders in the past three days. Ollo’s caught another three thieves. There’s been a rape, and Botil Skarby stole Ragna Boden’s cow! The people are growing restless. I’ve had nothing but complaints about Jonas Bergstrom. There are many who want his head off now.’
Karolina squirmed. ‘It’s my husband’s place to choose the punishment for those men,’ she decided. ‘Not mine. I will not put anyone to death. I will not decide their fate.’ She felt ill at the thought of it.
‘But the people, my lady,’ Baldur pressed. He had small eyes, bags of pink skin protruding beneath them. He was a man who slept little, always alert to what was happening in the fort, and he could sense tension growing. The mumbled conversations in the tavern and around the metalworker’s huts were bleeding out into the square now, and he was growing worried. ‘The people want Jonas Bergstrom’s blood. Him and his ilk are responsible for killing men they know. Fathers and brothers. Sons too. They’ll only grow more restless if nothing’s done. The longer that man sits in the hole, the more trouble those agitators will stir.’
Karolina had heard some disturbances herself, and glancing at her son, she grew worried. ‘But what did he actually do? Why would you want to kill him?’
Baldur Skoggi didn’t roll his eyes, though he very much wanted to. ‘Jonas Bergstrom is one of Ake’s men, my lady. He was in Stornas when Jorek Vettel was ripped from the throne. He’s been killing Vettel men for decades. Isn’t that enough?’
‘But why is he here? Why did he come? To hurt us?’
Baldur sighed. ‘It doesn’t matter why he’s here. Once an enemy, always an enemy. Even if he’d walked through our gates with a white banner, your husband would still put him to death. He’s an enemy of the Vettels. Always has been. His head hanging from the gates when the lord returns? That will make his victory over Ake Bluefinn all the sweeter!’
Karolina couldn’t think of anything more horrible, but she nodded. ‘Well, if it’s what my husband would do?’
‘It is, it is, my lady. I’ll kill the boy too.’
‘What? Boy?’ Karolina leaned forward, dark eyelashes fluttering with worry. ‘What boy?’
‘Jonas has a grandson. Just as murderous as him by the sound of it. Helped with a murder.’
‘Oh?’
‘Killed a popular silversmith. Malik Valborg. Nasty business.’
‘Oh, well I...’
‘Murder is punished by death, my lady. There’s no escaping it, no matter how old you are.’
Karolina could feel her servant’s discomfort, which mirrored her own. ‘You may kill the man,’ she said reluctantly. ‘He sounds as though he is an enemy my husband would want dead, but do not kill the boy, Baldur. I will speak to Hakon when he returns. He can make that decision himself. I will not displease the gods by killing a child.’
Baldur wanted to spit. The Lady of Slussfall was a weak woman, though that was no surprise. ‘As you wish, my lady. I will organise things for tomorrow.’
Karolina was about to say good, but it wasn’t good, and she didn’t feel good about condemning a man to death, no matter what he might have done. And the more she thought about it, the crime of helping Ake Bluefinn take the throne from the Vettels was no crime in her eyes. She knew Hakon. She’d met his father. They were not good men, and she doubted that Jorek Vettel would have been any better. But clutching her hands in her lap, she nodded, saliva flooding her mouth. ‘Thank you.’
29
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Bjarni was anxious. ‘I’ve got a bad feeling.’
‘Have you?’ Sigurd looked surprised, head up, glancing around. Ilene stood nearby, talking to a swollen-lipped Berger Eivin. Unsure how he felt about that, Sigurd shook his head, trying to concentrate. It pounded, though, making it almost impossible. ‘What about?’
‘Slussfall. It won’t be easy.’
‘Nothing’s easy about going to war in winter.’
‘And it does feel like winter now, don’t you think?’
Drops of rain fell down the smoke holes, bothering the flames, which struggled under their assault, hissing and spitting.
‘It does, but Reinar can hardly tell Ake that he’d rather wait till spring. Feels like we need to go now. Like it’s important. Ake knows more than he’s telling us, and maybe his dreamer knows more than she’s telling him. We have to go now.’
Bjarni sighed, watching Agnette talking with Elin. She’d yawned so many times that she looked ready to fall asleep on her feet. He didn’t blame her. And though Liara was sleeping peacefully in their chamber now, he knew that the moment they slid into bed, she would start that mournful cry again. His heart swelled, despite his sleep deprivation, and he couldn’t wait to hold her in his arms. She was a joy, and he would do anything to keep her safe. And just the realisation of that cleared his frown. ‘I think Elin going is a mistake.’
Sigurd thought the same.
‘Though Reinar’s never been able to say no to her.’
‘Which she knows.’ It was odd how quickly his feelings for Elin had soured, Sigurd realised. Everything had come into sharper focus since Tulia’s death, and he found himself turning against her.
‘What?’ Bjarni had watched Sigurd’s face darkening as he stared across the hall.
&nb
sp; ‘I’ve got a bad feeling too, I suppose. As though it’s all going to go wrong.’ Sigurd was whispering, not wanting his brother to hear. ‘That may just be me, of course. I’m not seeing anything clearly at the moment.’ And rubbing his eyes, he realised that he needed some sleep. He’d been drinking too much, talking too much, remembering too much, with barely any sleep in between. His eye was throbbing where Berger had punched him, the other one grainy and tired.
‘No one can blame you for that, but you’re not wrong, Elin is different.’
‘Is she?’
Bjarni nodded. ‘Agnette thinks so.’
Sigurd finished his cup of ale, wiping his mouth. ‘If only Alys were here. She could tell us what’s happening. She’d see what’s coming.’
Bjarni’s eyebrows were up. ‘You? You’re wishing we had a dreamer!’ He was too loud, and turning around with a frown, Reinar walked over to them.
‘What’s this about a dreamer?’
He looked flustered, Sigurd thought. Irritated too. ‘Just thinking it would be good to know what was waiting up in Slussfall. Good to have Alys here.’
Reinar immediately glanced over his shoulder, though Elin was near the corridor with Agnette, who had heard Liara cry and was heading for her bedchamber. ‘Well, she’s not, so why worry about dreamers? We need to focus on ships and weapons, food and supplies. On the fort and whether we’re leaving enough men behind. Not on dreamers we no longer have.’ His voice was low and impatient, worrying that he hadn’t left them enough time to prepare for their departure. Bolli and Holgar had been working on adding small catapults to the ships. They had some from a previous attack on Orbo, when Stellan was in command of Ottby’s forces, but now they were taking more ships to fit Ake’s men, so they could afford to add a few more.
Slussfall’s fort sat perched above its harbour, and Reinar knew from experience how easily a ship could hit those walls. But if they were going to get into the fort, they had to keep the ramparts busy. ‘Do you think Hakon’s back in Slussfall yet?’ he wondered.
‘If he’s alive. You did stick him with Corpse Splitter.’
Reinar smiled, remembering.
‘Well, we’d know the answer to both, wouldn’t we?’ Sigurd decided. ‘If Alys were here.’
Alys couldn’t believe that they were one day from Slussfall.
‘And not a whole day either!’ Eddeth exclaimed, full of energy, despite the cold and the long day and the lack of sleep. ‘According to Ivan, we’ll be there before the sun hits its peak!’
They were lying on the ground in Falla’s tent. Falla had slipped out to say goodnight to Lief and not returned, and though she’d become friendlier since discovering that Alys was a dreamer, they were still pleased to be alone.
‘I feel worried.’
‘You do?’
Alys edged closer to Eddeth, who was twitching beneath her fur, not sounding very sleepy. ‘Lotta doesn’t want me to come, but why? I can’t see why. She was going on a ship. I’m worried that we’ll be too late.’
Eddeth could hear the pain in Alys’ voice. The pain and the worry.
And the fear.
‘But what about your grandfather?’
‘He’s trapped. He can’t help. Whatever’s happening, he can’t help at all.’ Alys felt herself panicking, and then Eddeth’s hand squeezing hers.
‘Deep breath, there you go! Just breathe deeply and let everything about Slussfall float away. If we can make it through tonight that will be some achievement, and then we’ll worry about tomorrow and Lotta.’
Eddeth was right, and Alys tried to breathe, though her heart was racing, her body tense. ‘I need to dream for Hakon. He wants to know all about Reinar. About what he’ll do.’
‘And you?’
‘Me?’
‘Don’t you want to dream about Reinar? See what he’s up to? Whether he’s pining for you?’
‘Eddeth! He has a wife.’
‘Didn’t stop him kissing you, did it?’
Alys was shocked. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Oh, I see more than most, don’t forget that!’
‘Well, it was just the once. He wasn’t thinking clearly.’
Silence.
‘Maybe twice, I can’t remember.’
More silence.
‘Eddeth!’
‘What? What is it?’
‘Were you asleep?’
‘Of course I was asleep! What’s happening?’ And sitting up, panting, Eddeth blinked in the darkness. ‘Are the vatyr back?’
Alys shook her head, tugging her back down to the ground. ‘Not yet they’re not. Go to sleep, Eddeth.’ All her life she’d wanted to fall asleep quickly, but even as a child, she would lie in bed, mind wandering for hours in the darkness, looking for answers.
Alys blinked.
Looking for answers?
Why had she been looking for answers?
It was curious, she realised, wide awake now, wondering what answers she’d been seeking as a child. Wondering if she was still seeking them now.
Mirella.
The man had whispered it breathlessly, accentuating it with feeling. He had loved her, Alys could tell. Jesper Vettel had loved a woman with long blonde hair and green eyes named Mirella.
Jonas stared at his cottage, heart almost bursting.
It was newly built. He could tell by the colour of the wood; by the absence of the gardens Eida had spent years cultivating around the steps, leading out past the house to the outbuildings, down to the stream.
Newly built, and therefore, they were newly married.
Jonas turned to Eida, gripping her hand as though she was his prisoner. He didn’t want her to slip away. It was a dream he had often, but she always disappeared, leaving him to wake up alone.
‘We should never have let her go.’
Eida’s voice was gentle and soft, full of sadness.
Jonas knew who she was talking about. ‘It was what she wanted. It was what you wanted for her. For a reason, Eida. You didn’t know what had happened in Tuura. To the temple. It wasn’t your fault.’
‘But if we’d kept her with us. If Mirella had stayed...’
Jonas turned to his wife, but she wasn’t there. No one was.
And sighing, he turned back to the cottage, now just a heap of ash.
Reinar smiled, shaking his head. ‘Think I’ll sleep with my pillow over my head tonight!’
Elin didn’t reply. The crying baby was a loud distraction, and she was struggling to cope with it.
‘What’s wrong?’ He reached beneath the furs for her hand.
‘That noise. Liara. I... I can’t stand it.’
Reinar was surprised, then he realised that Elin was crying. He touched her face, feeling tears on her cheeks.
The baby’s crying upset him too, though he didn’t want to say anything. He didn’t even want to think it. Liara was a gift from the gods for two people who deserved it more than anyone he knew. He didn’t resent Bjarni and Agnette’s happiness, but sometimes, it was hard not to be reminded of his own aching grief. ‘I’m sorry,’ he breathed, cupping Elin’s face in his hands. ‘It’s been such a terrible time for you.’
‘For me?’ Elin felt annoyed, rising up on her elbows. ‘I didn’t go through it alone, Reinar. Don’t you feel anything yourself? For our dead sons?’
‘I...’
‘Why can’t you ever talk about them? About what happened? Am I the only one grieving? Is it always only me?’ She was sniffing and seething, and sensing that Reinar had frozen, Elin flopped back on the pillow, turning away.
‘I’ve a lot to think about,’ Reinar tried.
‘What?’ Elin flipped back over. ‘More important things than our sons? Our poor boys?’
Reinar couldn’t bring his feelings to the surface. He couldn’t give her what she so desperately needed from him. The pain upon seeing those dead babies had shut him down. It had been impossible to feel much after that. Even now. ‘No, of course not. I grieve, Elin, but
I can’t fall apart. I can’t let those feelings come. If they do, what will happen? I’ll never want to leave our chamber. Never want to do anything but sit in here and cry.’ He’d kept the pain just out of reach from the moment it had happened, but it was there, Reinar knew; he touched the edges of it often. ‘I’ve had so much to do. After what happened to my father, so much. I couldn’t just fall apart. Not then, not now.’
Elin didn’t care what he had to do. She didn’t care about the fort or his father. She cared about what they’d lost together, and how empty and lonely she’d felt ever since, not being able to share the depth of that loss with her husband. ‘And when will you?’ she whispered, voice hissing through her teeth. ‘I think never, Reinar. But my body is empty. I grew our babies inside my body, and now it’s so empty. I have nothing! And Torvig, he’s dead, and I have nothing. Nothing!’ Her tears quickly became a flood, and she started to hyperventilate.
‘Ssshhh,’ Reinar soothed, stroking her hair. ‘Ssshhh, Elin. I’m sorry. Sorry for us. For the... babies.’ Everything hurt. He saw his father, lying on his chamber floor, his mother screaming over him, begging him to help. He saw his sons in the arms of Eddeth and Rienne, not screaming at all. ‘I’m so sorry they died.’ He dropped his head to his hands. ‘For so long, it felt like my fault. All of it did. I didn’t know how to say it. I worried that I’d done it. That I’d done it to them!’
Elin sat up. ‘But now you know the truth. You know it was that curse. We both know the truth now.’
Reinar couldn’t speak. He saw Alys flying through the air, hitting the tree. He saw the symbols, roughly scratched into bark. He heard the ravens screeching in his ears, the howl of the wolf. And Hakon’s dreamer had done it all.
Sometimes it was hard to see the truth.
Hard to feel what was real, and what was just your imagination.
