by Selena Scott
A quaver entered my voice. “Aaric, please.”
Something like a sigh rocked through his throat, though it never escaped his lips. “Grise won't like it.”
“Grise may not have a choice,” I pointed out. “The berserkers are going to be looking for you. We need all the help we can get to defeat them. And escape. The more time we waste...”
“You think I don't know that?” Aaric said. “That I haven't been trying to talk some sense into him? Dahlia, Hildre may be your brother, but Grise is mine. If he tries anything...”
His gaze followed Grise's far-off shape. “I have to go,” he said gruffly. He paused again. “Know this: if your brother so much as makes a move against us—”
“Then he'll deserve whatever fate befalls him,” I agreed in a low voice.
Aaric gave a small nod, then hurried off.
I went to the one place I both dreaded and had to go to. Hildre was sitting in his opulent maroon tent, all his banners and cloth, glistening jewelry and dishes arranged around him. He looked sunken, stretched. As though somehow, despite being chubby, his skin was too big for his body.
“Toke warned me,” he said to no one in particular. “Warned me that the newcomers were a bad idea. A risky one.”
“Toke is a fool,” I said. I looked around, relieved that at least he wasn't around now. “Where is he, anyway?”
“Ran off,” Hildre said without feeling. It terrified me. “He left us to die.”
For a moment, I stared at my brother, searched for the Hildre I knew. The one who could be moved. Yes, often to incredible rages, but still. The man who lived, breathed, felt.
But no. The man before me was a stranger, as distant as my dead father.
“Hildre!” I snapped. I would waste no more time with bland pleasantries. “We will die if you don't give orders to flee to prepare ourselves, and soon. What are the Waterpaws to do?”
He looked at me, a bit dazed, as though I'd woken him from a mid-morning nap. “What is there to do? None have ever survived a berserker attack, even Waterpaws. Even Father—”
“I don't give a damn about Father! Hildre, you have to tell the others what to do. Everyone is scared.”
Aye, all throughout the camp, fear was rippling, catching like the plague. I had noticed it on my short walk to Hildre's tent. It was probably even worse behind the closed tent flaps, what the hushed voices hissed and moaned to each other.
“And go where?” Hildre demanded. “As soon as any of the other clans hear, no one will give us refuge or risk their own skins to save Waterpaws.”
“Then we need to hide,” I said. “Do something. Anything.”
Hildre only nodded at me with empty eyes. “When you figure out what to do, do let me know.”
I stared at him for a moment, watching for a break in the indifference. But my brother just sat there, as still and as motionless as a statue. I left.
A few steps out of his dreary tent, Ingrid hailed me. “How bad is it?”
“Bad,” I answered her. “Hildre doesn't know what to do. No one does. Toke ran off.”
“That's a bad thing?” Ingrid pointed out.
Despite the circumstances, a wobbly chuckle fell out of me, like a memory of something long lost.
“We could use Toke now, though,” I admitted, my gaze stopping on the soldiers we passed, looking nearly as listless and purposeless as Hildre had. “Who will lead the forces now? With Hildre how he is... we need to think of a plan,” I finally said. “Of what to do.”
We continued on to Aaric’s tent, where he, Chuld, and even Grise were waiting.
Chuld had a faint smile on his face at the sight of us. “We have a plan.”
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO – AARIC
“Leave.”
Chuld’s voice rang clear across the tent. Ingrid and Dahlia stared at him blankly, as if they were certain they’d heard him incorrectly.
“Leave?” Dahlia repeated.
“It's the only way.” Now Grise was speaking, so vehemently that spit was springing off of his lips too. “We stick around—we'll be the first the berserkers will tear to shreds. This way, if just the five of us escape, at least we'll have a fighting chance.”
Dahlia didn't even take a minute to consider it. “What about all the Waterpaw children? All the elderly, the mothers, the babies?” Her voice raised a pitch. “We are just going to leave them to their fates—is that it?”
I placed a hand gently on the base of her neck. “If we stay here, we will die.”
The color came to her cheeks. “That's just it, then—everyone agrees on one thing. We shouldn't stay here. So, we have to round everyone up, get everyone ready to leave.”
Now Ingrid was the one looking at her friend curiously. “But how and where?”
How was right.
As much as Dahlia's passion infused the fire burning in my own veins... I knew Vikings, and I knew Waterpaws—they respected authority. If Hildre was listless and resigned to whatever fate befell them... it would be hard, if not downright impossible, to get them out of the camp and fleeing for whatever shelter we could find for safety.
“I don't know,” Dahlia admitted. There was a single furrow in her brow as she sagged slightly into my arms. “But we have to try. If we try to convince everyone to leave and they won't... we'll make whatever decision we have to then. But first, we have to at least try. It's the right thing to do.”
“The right thing to do—if we want to get killed,” Grise said. “Every minute we stay here, we reduce the chances of us surviving. Unless you think the berserkers are going to feel like showing mercy to the one who killed their leader.”
“Let's get going, then,” Ingrid urged us. “You heard Dahlia, let's try and get people out of here.”
“We need to have somewhere for them to go,” I argued. “We can't just flee to any place in the realm. We both know that the Waterpaws have their fair share of enemies. If we wander into the wrong camp at the wrong time...”
I smiled grimly as I continued, “Let’s give it a few more hours. I'll talk with my brothers, we can discuss the different lands we've been in, see if anything would be suitable for a large group hiding. We can't make this decision too hastily. It could very well decide our lives.”
Grise snorted. “Aye, take all the time you need. Weeks, even. It's not like a gang of bloodthirsty berserkers are on their way as we speak.”
Chuld elbowed him, and Grise reciprocated so forcefully that Chuld stumbled.
“You brute!” Ingrid scolded Grise, who just stalked off.
Chuld shot a questioning look in my direction that said, Think he'll wait a day? I ground my teeth together. He’d have to.
“So that's it, then?” Dahlia asked, her eyes finding mine tentatively.
Something in me clenched. All of me wanted to while away the day, to lose myself in her arms, between those thighs... but I couldn't. Not when everything I cared about was in peril.
“We'll talk tomorrow,” I told her. “I need to think.”
As soon as Dahlia and Ingrid were out of sight, Grise returned. “You got rid of them quickly.” He nodded at me as if we were in some sort of pact. “Now, as for the real plan—why not just leave the Waterpaws to their fate? That way, we'll get our revenge without even carrying it out ourselves.”
Seeing our faces, Grise continued, “I know, I know. You have your little ladies, but think about it. We could take them too. Maybe not willingly, but one day they'll probably thank you for saving their lives.”
Chuld stared at him aghast.
“You're a damned bastard, you know that, Grise?” I growled.
A scowl marred his features. “If you two idiots don't come up with something fast, tomorrow night, I'm leaving.”
With that, he stalked off once again, his gangly form all rigid angles.
Chuld and I spoke for hours, wracking our minds and memories for a suitable place. But we came up with nothing. Nothing that was hidden enough or big enough to sustain such a large group as the Wate
rpaws.
Finally, I rose.
The beginnings of a headache were spearing the center of my forehead. And there was only one thing I knew that would lessen the feeling.
“I’m going walking,” I told my brother.
By now, it was dark, and it was in this dark that I headed for the only stream near the camp. As I walked, the moonlight seemed to illuminate a path through the long grass for me to follow. As I did, the cool night breeze swished against my skin, while the reeds brushed my shins.
It seemed both an age and seconds later that I was reaching the stream, crouching down into a squat and running the edge of my thumb over a gentle ripple.
If only saving the Waterpaws and my brothers were as simple as taking this stream wherever it led us...
But going into new territory was risky, if not downright suicidal. Being careful when fleeing was nonnegotiable. Especially since we’d be traveling with Waterpaws both young and old, and encountering all manner of other Viking clans. Although at the end of the day, keeping Dahlia, her friend, and my brothers safe was my main priority.
As my fingers danced along the stream’s ripples, I sensed it. No sound had been made, no light disturbed, and yet I knew there was someone behind me.
Adrenaline crackled in my veins.
In one swift motion, I rose and wheeled around to see who it was.
My breath left me. It was the Muhgadreb.
His childlike form was seated on a rock I hadn't noticed before. His position of eerie repose was made odder by how he was eyeing me. Inquisitively, as though I were the one that had followed him here and he was curious as to what I would do next.
What are you doing here?” I heard myself saying.
He tilted his head as if to say, You know.
“Do you know what to do about the Waterpaws?” I demanded. “Where to flee?”
My question hung in the air for a few seconds before his clear voice emerged:
“If old and sworn enemies abound
And traitorous be the very ground
And trees with eyes unblinking, telling much
And waters with no refuge, only crutch
Then to delve where no waters slow, no tree blinks, no ground betrays
That shall preserve your days.”
Then silence. He sat there, still gazing at me evenly.
“That's it?” I took a step forward. “I request your help and you speak in tongues?”
The Muhgadreb didn’t so much as blink. My gaze wandered to the stream.
More tongues and nonsense. Was it to be trusted? What other options did we really have right now?
I glanced back where the Muhgadreb had been and stared. There was no one on the rock. Wildly, I careened about in the night, racing this way and that. But the night was black and empty; even the moonlight had moved on elsewhere.
He was gone.
I stood there in the dark, scratching at the back of my head anxiously. My mind strained to find what he'd spoken of. Something about a traitorous ground. Trees with eyes and waters with crutches. Nonsense, it had to be. What we needed were more soldiers to fight off the berserkers.
In any case, the little seer was gone, and with it, any hope of me making heads or tails of the so-called wisdom he'd imparted to me.
A yawn traveled up my throat.
Aye. It was time for me to turn in. As much as I wanted to think up a solution now, wearying myself further wasn’t going to bring it to me.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE – DAHLIA
I tossed and turned, and tossed some more. Sleep continued to elude me.
Finally I got up and trod silently out into the night. Night walks were an old, much-enjoyed habit of mine, one I hadn’t indulged in for a while. Now, it was a welcome proposition to calm my turbulent thoughts.
This may very well be my last look at my favorite stream in the moonlight too.
My feet seemed to know the way better than I did; I merely followed their lead. My bare feet enjoyed the giving press of the dirt, the odd swish of the grasses, until I’d reached the edge of the stream. My gaze took refuge in the serene flickering of its waters.
It was so peaceful… so utterly in repose…
And yet, it wasn’t. There was something—I was being watched.
It was the Muhgadreb, standing on the opposite shore, looking up at the moon. With his face’s roundness and impassive, perfect features, it looked like the face of the moon itself.
Without any warning, his head rotated towards me, owl-like, and he spoke.
“Water erodes
Fire burns
But rock learns
North imperils, South inveigles,
Neither prevails
In the end, you must go to the end.”
I strained to think of the rhyme’s meaning. It sounded dire—go to the end. Was the Muhgadreb saying that the Waterpaws just had to accept our fate, that this was our end?
But no, my gut sensed that wasn’t it, that, on the contrary, the Muhgadreb had told us what we needed to know. What we needed to save ourselves. But I couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
When I glanced back to the shore where the Muhgadreb had been, he was gone. I walked back to camp and returned to find Aaric waiting by the entrance with a pained look. “Where were you?”
“Walking. I just saw the Muhgadreb,” I told him.
He stared at me. “So did I, earlier today.”
“What did he tell you?”
Aaric scowled. “A muddle, basically. You?”
I smiled at him slightly. “A riddle, aye, but a useful one, I think.”
We relayed to each other what the Muhgadreb had told us, then sat down, staring at the stars.
My mind kept replaying the bits and pieces that Aaric had told me of, comparing them against what I’d heard, trying to find common ground.
Where was it that was neither water, nor tree, nor ground… at the top of a mountain? A cave?
“Where is that cave of old?” I asked Aaric, an idea coming to me suddenly. “The one where seers speak of the world ending?”
Aaric’s brow darkened. “The Caves of Andlát. That can’t be it—that place is cursed. The very name means Death Cave.”
I seized his hand. “That could very well be it!” My mind was skipping like a stone flung across the water. “Aaric, think—that is where they speak of the world ending. Then there’s how those caves are neither North nor South. There’s no water, tree, nor ground there, either, in a sense—just rock!”
Aaric wasn’t convinced. “If there’s no water or plant life, how are we to survive once we do make it there?”
“Maybe it’s not about that,” I argued, conviction growing in me the more words bloomed out. “Maybe we don’t have to stay there or survive there for long. Maybe this is merely the place we are to escape to.”
There was a long silence in which Aaric appeared to consider my words, with a final shaking of his head.
“I don’t like relying on what that boy says. I don’t trust him.”
“The Muhgadreb has served the Waterpaws faithfully for years,” I said. “I trust his judgment.”
I didn’t say the other part, whether I really trusted that he had meant the Caves of Andlát.
As dawn gave way to day, I searched for the Muhgadreb amongst the Waterpaws. All I found, though, were people plagued with sheer terror, muttering and packing and unpacking their possessions all at once.
When I told Ingrid and the others about my flee-to-cave idea, they jumped on it.
“Great,” Grise said, already packing up their meager possessions. “We have a place to head to. We can leave now.”
His response made me suspicious. “Just like that?”
His glare at me was cutting. “I’d walk into the middle of the sea if it meant leaving here and not waiting around like sitting ducks for the berserkers to come and bite our heads off.”
Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but it’d have to do.
The others
weren’t as easily swayed. Hildre himself was as listless at our plan as if I’d told him that I’d picked up a leaf and thought of him today, while the Waterpaws were a mixed bag. Many were so nervous from our runners’ reports that the berserkers would be here in a little under a day, that they jumped at any plan to leave. Others, though, were more skeptical, correctly gleaning that our idea hadn’t come from Hildre. It took some convincing, and at times, downright threatening (which Grise was all too happy to carry out), but, in the end, we got everyone moving.
And so it was that the Waterpaws raced about, taking down their tents and packing up their belongings and wailing about our misfortune and how Thor himself must be angered at us.
As the brothers helped us pack up our belongings, Chuld cast a thoughtful gaze around.
“You know,” he said, “I am actually going to miss it here.”
Grise just snorted.
“It did exceed my expectations,” Aaric admitted, his gaze resting on me.
Something flickered deep in my belly. After this was all over, what would become of Aaric and me? We’d never thought that far ahead, only focused on each day as it came, enjoying what brief pleasure we could in each other’s company.
That was the thing too—just because we finally had a destination in mind, that didn’t mean we’d survive the journey there. The berserkers could still catch up to us, or we could encounter any number of untold perils on the way.
“Are you sure about this?” Ingrid whispered to me as the last of the Waterpaws joined us and we prepared to get going. “I don’t like lying.”
“And you think I do?” I asked. “We’ve no choice, though. If we told the others just where we were headed, half of them wouldn’t come.”
Ingrid sighed. “You’re right. They are such a superstitious lot.”
And if there was one thing that had been drilled into us Waterpaws as babes, it was that the Caves of Andlát were a cursed place, one where only death reigned.
And this was where we were headed?
Aye, times were dire indeed.
And yet, surprisingly, our journey didn’t start out so. We took to the road with some muttering and complaining, some wailing and groaning, but Tora started up singing The Ballad of Grimnir, and the rest of us all joined in: