by A. E. Rayne
Raf nodded, turning around. ‘But it’s big!’ And hood up, she rushed out of the hall, the memory of Sigurd’s hands on her body and Gudrum’s lies ringing in her ears.
Utterly miserable.
Alys had stumbled upon the body of the man who had accosted her and Magnus. He lay in the alley, frozen, eyes wide open, throat cut. She’d felt slightly removed, her father’s scabbard touching her leg, not recognising herself anymore.
And now, as she stepped towards the tiny shed, she felt even more confused because she didn’t feel like a dreamer either.
‘You must protect your mind! Lock it like a box! An iron chest!’ Ragnahild bellowed as soon as she stepped inside. ‘You must keep it secure!’
Alys almost fell over, glancing over her shoulder at the door.
‘What? You think someone can hear me? See me?’
‘Then why are we hiding in here?’
Ragnahild peered at Alys as though she was stupid, rolling her eye. ‘Because of her! Alari. The witch! She can see me. She knows all about me. I am still Thenor’s dreamer, you know. As was my grandmother and her grandmother. He’s trusted our family for thousands of years.’
‘Is that why he chose me?’
Ragnahild nodded. ‘Of course. You are Eida’s granddaughter, just as she was mine.’
‘You mean my grandmother helped Thenor? Eida?’
Ragnahild was growing impatient. ‘Would you rather we just chatted? About the family? Would that help save your life and that of your children? Hmmm?’
Alys shook her head.
‘No, it wouldn’t! You are a gifted dreamer, Alys, my girl, but mostly useless so far. And that Eddeth woman was no help. Always sneezing and twitching as though something’s up her nose! What is wrong with her?’
Alys tried not to smile.
‘No, you’ve landed in quicksand! And we all know what happens in quicksand if you linger too long.’ Ragnahild pointed to a stool. ‘We will begin with a basic understanding of how to use symbols to shut out evil witches like Alari.’
‘And is that possible? After she tricked Mirella? Is it possible to shut her out?’
Ragnahild smiled. ‘You don’t get to be this old without knowing a few secrets, my girl, so lean in a little, there you go, and let us begin!’
Greppa Sunstrom was an awkward-looking man. His left shoulder rose higher than his right, and Mirella always fought the urge to push it down, wanting to balance him. He had suffered badly with the pox as a child, and his big, round face was pitted with deep scars, framed by a thick mat of hair, cut severely, fringing a pair of watery brown eyes.
Greppa was still in shock as he followed Mirella to the stables, where Bergit was waiting out of the wind. He was even more surprised to see the orange-haired woman, pulling up abruptly. ‘Who is this?’ Greppa didn’t feel comfortable around women. He’d been rejected by enough in his early years to have taken a vow of celibacy, determined that no woman would ever break his heart again, and yet the temptation of their beautiful faces and graceful bodies was often too much to resist. He peered up at Mirella, seeking an answer.
‘This is Bergit, my...’ Mirella didn’t know.
‘Assistant!’ Bergit decided promptly, not wanting to be deemed a servant, for that would certainly not do. ‘I help Mirella with whatever she needs.’ She smiled at Mirella, hoping she would agree, for with the danger swirling around Orvala, she didn’t intend to stray far from the dreamer’s side.
‘Yes, my assistant. I had to bring her. It’s not safe in the city.’
Greppa’s worried eyes blinked faster. He strode past Bergit, noting her pronounced lips, so very full and supple. And as for her pillowy skin...
‘Greppa!’ Mirella snapped behind him. ‘We must discuss what to do.’
Greppa had shuffled towards the stalls, where he kept his loyal horse. He didn’t like to leave her out in the snow. She sailed with him every year, from the Island to Orvala, and he felt enormously protective of her. Unfurling his hand, he let the black mare snuffle it, pleased to find a few carrot sticks waiting for her. ‘What can we do, Mirella but trust in our path? Our path that you have seen so clearly illuminated by the Three Goddesses themselves.’ He held out his left hand, stroking the horse’s muzzle. ‘What can we do but trust? You know the truth, so do you truly believe that this Gudrum can stand in our way? That he alone can disrupt our plans for Alekka? A greedy lord of no standing? A forest dweller?’ Greppa turned around with a thin-lipped sneer. ‘Remember who you are now. Remember what you know. Alari is no match for you, or have you forgotten?’
And staring at Greppa, Mirella smiled.
‘I can’t stay much longer,’ Alys panicked. ‘I don’t trust Arnon with the children.’
‘No, well, I don’t blame you there,’ Ragnahild snorted. ‘Let us hope your daughter will make a better choice of husband. After Mirella, and then you, I’m beginning to fear that all my descendants will be doe-eyed fools when it comes to men! And after my dear Eida made such a good match.’ Ragnahild looked wistful. ‘He made her very happy, your grandfather.’
Alys was pleased to hear it.
‘Now!’ Ragnahild snapped, clapping her wrinkled hands together. ‘You must take the symbols you’ve learned and hide yourself from that Alari. From your mother too!’
‘You don’t trust her?’
‘Mirella?’ Ragnahild shivered. ‘Mirella is more dangerous than anyone I know of. No, I don’t trust her, and nor should you.’
‘But Alari...’
‘Surprised her! Just like a lord can be surprised in battle. Like her lord was surprised!’ she chuckled merrily. ‘Happens to us all sometimes. But that surprise can be overcome, and Mirella will return with a vengeance. So will her lord. And you need to be ready.’
‘I need to escape.’
‘Yes, you do.’
Alys leaned forward, hearing something in Ragnahild’s voice. ‘What is it?’
Ragnahild thought about revealing Thenor’s secret, for he needed Alys’ help, though she would never betray his confidence. ‘Protect yourself, my girl,’ she sighed. ‘Use the symbols as I’ve shown you, and lock up your thoughts. Let no one in! Not even that odd Eddeth. And then come back to me. I will be waiting. Come back to me, and I’ll tell you what to do next.’
Alys stood quickly. ‘I will.’
Ragnahild’s eyes dropped to the sword peeking out from Alys’ cloak. ‘You can use that, I saw. No woman in my family has ever been able to do that.’ She clasped her hands in her lap, fingers cracking. ‘Be prepared to kill at all times, Alys. With your sword. With your mind. To save yourself and your children. To save Alekka too. Always be prepared to do whatever it takes, for you must survive. Thenor needs you.’
Alys shivered, eyes on the chair, though Ragnahild had gone, and it rocked by itself now, creaking loudly.
Leaving his wife-to-be sleeping, or pretending to sleep in the hope that he would leave her alone, Gudrum took Sigurd for a walk, his prisoner’s hands bound in iron shackles, attached to a long chain. ‘Come along, little doggy,’ Gudrum laughed, tugging Sigurd forward. ‘Before the snow comes down again!’ He glanced up at the vast expanse of grey with a sigh, trying to remember the warmth of the sun.
Or even the sight of it.
Sigurd stumbled after him, wanting to scream. The shackles scraped his wrists, the left one rubbing his bandaged wound. He gritted his teeth, letting the pain wash over him, trying to focus on staying on his feet. He felt unbalanced with his hands bound in front of him, unsteady on the icy path, his mind wandering back to his chamber and the feel of Raf’s body lying on his.
He blinked, hoping she wouldn’t get in trouble.
‘I want to know more about your brother. About the sort of lord he wants to be.’ Gudrum nodded to a group of women and children as they froze before him, worried by this strange new lord whose violent men had wrecked their homes, killing their husbands. Raping them. ‘Lovely morning!’ he beamed, yanking Sigurd along.
&nb
sp; The children looked up at the men in horror, their mothers pulling them away, dropping their eyes to the street, coloured a dull pink after the battle to claim Orvala.
‘My brother?’ Sigurd shivered as he walked. ‘He only cares about Ottby.’
Gudrum stopped, turning back in surprise. ‘Ha! That’s what he told you, is it? Maybe he’s just trying to keep you from claiming his prize?’
‘He doesn’t see Ottby as a prize. More of a weight on his shoulders, as I said.’
Gudrum shrugged. ‘But he’d never choose to put that burden down, would he? Never want to go back to being just a man?’
‘He wouldn’t, no. The king’s relying on him.’ Sigurd tripped over his feet, crashing down to the ground, landing on his left arm with a yelp.
Gudrum laughed, watching as he struggled back to his feet. Not helping. ‘Ahhh, the king, yes, I know all about that bastard. That selfish, greedy turd, squatting on a throne he doesn’t deserve! I’ve heard all about him.’
Sigurd stared at Gudrum with a frown. ‘Heard it from who? Not from someone who knows Ake. That’s not him. You must be thinking of Jorek Vettel. Ake saved us from a man like that. He’s a good king.’
Gudrum snorted. ‘Depends on who you talk to, I suppose. Maybe you’ve been listening to the wrong sort of people.’
‘No. Only myself. I’ve known him my whole life.’
Gudrum’s eyebrows rose in surprise as a pretty woman rushed out of an alley, nearly knocking into him. He peered at her. ‘I know you.’
Alys skidded to a stop, eyes up, mouth open. She glanced at Sigurd, quickly shifting her attention back to Gudrum.
Sigurd nearly spluttered, looking away.
‘I...’ Alys’ mind was entirely blank.
‘You were in the hall when I arrived. With the dreamer. Mirella.’
‘She’s my mother,’ Alys croaked. She coughed, clearing her throat, fear almost paralysing her.
Gudrum looked intrigued. ‘Your mother? Well, how interesting. How interesting indeed. So beautiful, the pair of you. Tarl Brava was a lucky man, though now he’s dead, and we have a chance to begin again. Here. All of us together!’ Gudrum pulled Sigurd closer to Alys, noting the delicate smattering of freckles across her nose, her sea-green eyes, so similar to Mirella’s. ‘We need a celebration. When our visitors arrive, we need a celebration!’
Alys was too curious to be careful. ‘Visitors?’
Gudrum eyed Sigurd, shoving his shoulder. ‘Yes, the Lord of Ottby is coming with a chest of gold. I expect him soon. We’ll have to throw him a big feast.’ He frowned, thinking. ‘And my wedding! We’ll combine the two. When you see your mother, send her to me.’ And licking his lips, he smiled. ‘What is your name?’
‘Alys.’
‘Alys,’ Gudrum breathed. ‘You will come too, Alys. You can help your mother. Help Solveigh. We want everything to be perfect for when your brother comes, don’t we, little doggy?’ Gudrum turned, laughing at the misery in Sigurd’s eyes, and bobbing his head, he tugged on the long chain, pulling his prisoner away.
Alys stayed where she was, watching them go, wanting Sigurd to turn his head. It was so good to see him. He didn’t look well, though. He was so thin. As though he hadn’t eaten since Slussfall.
Sigurd shuffled quickly after Gudrum, working to stay on his feet, but just as they turned the corner, he glanced over his shoulder, seeking Alys’ eyes.
And meeting them, he smiled.
Having horses and sleds helped, as now Reinar’s men didn’t have to take turns lugging the iron chest of coins and trinkets through the deep snow. Their bellies were fuller, their eyes slightly brighter, and with the promise of another village on the horizon, there was a hint of optimism in the air.
Except for Bolli.
‘They’re going to try and kill us! These men who have Sigurd are going to try and kill us all!’
Reinar thought he was right, though he didn’t say so.
‘And they’ll have every chance, what with us being trapped in this block of ice. No ships. Barely a horse between us! How are we going to escape if he tries something?’
‘We could skate?’ Reinar grinned, moving around a snow-covered boulder. ‘Or just slide across the ice? Aim for home?’
Berger laughed. ‘Some men just want gold. Nothing wrong with that.’
‘They’re Northerners,’ Bolli reminded him with a growl. ‘You remember that, don’t you? Northerners hate us. Hate us! You think they’ll just shake hands and wish us well? Send us on our way with a cuddle? No! Likely they’ll take the gold, kill Sigurd, and come after us.’
Reinar turned to him. ‘Are you alright?’
Bolli shrugged. ‘It’s been a strange few days.’
‘You’re missing Dagger.’
‘Dagger’s just bits of wood now,’ Bolli said mournfully. ‘According to your magical dreams, of which we’re allowed to know nothing about!’
‘Ha!’ Reinar turned back around, yawning. ‘You think I’m a dreamer now, do you?’
‘No, that’s a step too far. More likely your favourite dreamer is visiting you again. That’s what I reckon.’
Reinar wouldn’t say, and he kept walking, eyes on the snowbound path ahead, hoping to hear Thenor’s voice leading him in the right direction. ‘You think there’s only one dreamer in Alekka?’
Bolli shrugged. ‘What do I know about dreamers? I know about ships, and we’re a long way from ships out here.’
Reinar could see how hard things were for a helmsman without a tiller. Bolli didn’t know what to do with himself. His gloved hands twitched uselessly by his sides as he walked and fretted and worried about what the new Lord of Orvala would do to them.
And trying to imagine what the new Lord of Orvala had done to Sigurd, Reinar knew that he wasn’t alone.
Alys mounted the hall steps, holding Lotta’s hand. Magnus walked behind her, constantly turning around, worrying that every man who looked their way was a threat. He heard the odd scream and shout. He saw blood on the streets, and though he’d been through many terrifying experiences since that morning on Ullaberg’s beach, he’d never felt so unsafe in his life.
He felt an overwhelming need to protect his mother and sister.
Though remembering what his mother had done to the man in the alley, he wondered if he needed to feel so concerned.
‘Magnus!’ Alys called. ‘Come on.’
‘It’s Mirella. Look!’
Alys and Lotta turned around, seeing Mirella striding towards them, dark-blue cloak swishing around her thin body, arms swinging by her sides as though she was in a hurry. Bergit Dyre was out of breath, trying to catch up with her, a small, fur-wrapped man on her other side.
‘Who’s that?’ Magnus asked.
Lotta frowned. ‘A bad man.’
‘Oh?’ Alys turned to her. ‘Another one?’
Lotta nodded.
Alys was disappointed to hear it, and she sighed as she walked down the steps towards her mother, who ignored her, heading for the doors.
‘What are you all standing outside for? Do you want to freeze to death? Well, I suppose our new lord can stick you next to those ridiculous bears!’ And she inclined her head to where two imposing statues guarded the doors to the hall. Like many Northerners, the Bravas had sought the protection of the mythical Two Bears, who were said to have belonged to Eutresia. According to legend, the two magical bears had watched over the goddess for centuries, protecting her from enemies, keeping her kings safe. They would turn up in battles, shifting the tide in favour of Eutresia’s loyal warriors. They were mighty creatures, those giant bear brothers, and though Eutresia and her bears were long now gone – all of them ended by Thenor – those in the North still sought their favour, hoping that in their own time of need, the bears would come to their aid.
Mirella had no such reverence for the hairy creatures, and she snorted as she walked past the statues, through the doors, which had promptly opened before her.
Greppa slipped, gr
abbing a handful of Alys’ cloak to steady himself. He muttered, eyes on Alys’ face as he straightened up. ‘Well, now...’
Bergit panted as she mounted the steps after him. ‘That was a long morning!’ she said, eyeing the children with some trepidation. And not wanting to be lumped caring for them again, she rushed ahead to catch up with Mirella.
‘Do we have to go inside?’ Magnus groaned, turning back to the street. His sister, knowing the answer, was already following Bergit.
‘We do,’ Alys decided, then remembering Sigurd, she bent down to Magnus’ ear. ‘Sigurd Vilander is here. A prisoner. Don’t look at him, though. Don’t let anyone know that we know him. Please.’
Magnus nodded, mind whirring. ‘But...’
Alys shook her head as more men headed into the hall. ‘Let’s go inside. And quiet now.’
They emerged from the forest into a field, unable to even see a footprint in the perfect blanket of untouched white snow.
‘Maybe it’s a lake,’ Ollo grumbled. He turned to Ludo. ‘Might be a lake?’
Vik laughed, his face wrapped in cloth that he’d torn from his tunic, desperate to feel some warmth. ‘A lake’s covered in ice. That’s snow, you twit. Come on.’ And pushing ahead, he left Ollo behind to grumble some more.
Which he did.
The hungrier Ollo got, the more he grumbled, and guessing what was wrong, Stina stopped her horse beside Destroyer, handing him her last few juniper berries. ‘Here. Have these.’
Ollo took them greedily, barely chewing as he gulped them down. ‘Thank you,’ he mumbled, mouth full. ‘Hard to be so cold.’
Stina agreed. ‘But we’re nearly there, aren’t we?’
‘That we are!’ Eddeth exclaimed with delight. She saw visions of a big city, an icy sea stretching before it. It looked cold, but smoke was trailing from snow-covered roofs, and she knew that smoke meant fire. ‘So think of the bed you’ll be able to rest your head on soon!’