‘That I find hard to believe.’
Erlan stepped back. Kai was truly a pathetic sight – all but his defiant eyes. Something in them fascinated Erlan. Yet the boy was also garrulous beyond anything Erlan reckoned he could stand.
And then he considered the alternative – the stillness of the forest filled with the voices of his dead and lost. Something about the boy made him forget the Hel of his loneliness for a while.
Kai looked like his very life hung in the balance as he waited for Erlan’s next word.
A fool shuns a friend on the road. . . Aye, but would this curious boy prove a friend? Or dead weight? Or something worse. . .
He made up his mind.
He shook his head. Kai winced like he’d been struck in the face. He was about to argue, but Erlan cut him off. ‘I’ll probably live to regret this, but. . . all right then. You can tag along.’
Kai yelped with delight. ‘You won’t regret this, Erlan. I swear you won’t!’
‘Aye – well you make sure I don’t. All right, I’ll wait till nightfall then I’ll come for you. Longer even – till everyone’s asleep.’
‘Bah! Most of ’em are drunkards anyway – they wouldn’t wake if the fires of Loki were tickling their toes.’
‘Will you be all right till then?’
‘Hah! I’ve seen off colder nights than this one. Don’t fret about me. I’ll be ready.’
‘Good.’ He nodded at the sorry-looking tunic in the slush. ‘You have more clothes than these?’
‘Aye, at home. But I’ll fetch ’em in a moment, you’ll see.
They won’t stir any more ’n if I were a mouse.’
‘Fine. Bring a cooking pot and an aleskin too, if you can.’
‘Ha! Easy,’ grinned Kai.
Erlan looked up. ‘If the skies stay clear, it shouldn’t be too hard to follow the shoreline by night.’
‘We can’t go by the lake! Soon as Alvis discovers you’ve run off with his whipping boy that’s the first way they’ll go.’
‘Is there another route into Sveäland?’
‘Sure – through the deeper forest. There’s a path by the higher ground further north. People don’t go up there unless they really have to.’
‘Why not?’
‘Frightened what they’d find.’ He winked. ‘Or what’d find them.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Spirits of the forests and the like. Or the dead. That’s the talk. But I’m not afraid. Most folk are just scared ’cause up that way folks hang outlaws. Blood gifts, you know.’
‘You mean sacrifices?’
Kai nodded. ‘Could be wolves or bears up there too. But then, you’ve got that bloody big sword there.’ He nodded at Wrathling.
Erlan grunted. What more terrors could the forest hold than he’d already faced? ‘We’ll have to risk it. Watch for my return.’
‘Ain’t got much else to do, have I?’
Erlan kicked away the block.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The fisherman proved a deal less friendly than his wife. Nevertheless, he agreed to host Erlan for the night. But once at table, he was far more interested in getting to his first draught of ale than entertaining his guest. After that, he settled down like a babe at its mother’s teat.
The window of talk, once drink loosened his host’s tongue, was brief. Erlan got little from him about Sveäland that he didn’t know already, and before long the man’s eyelids were drooping, slow and heavy, and Erlan saw that any more words were wasted. The fisherman’s chin went back and he fell sound asleep.
His wife managed to drag him, half-stupefied, to his bedding, and soon the household was quiet, save for the man’s snores and his wife’s slumbering sighs.
Erlan bedded down across from them and lay awake watching the fire-shadows skip among the rafters. At length, he decided it had been a while since he’d heard any movement, inside or out. His weapons were already wrapped up tight, and so he decided the time had come for their departure. He was about to get up when he heard a noise.
A rustle of covers, then heavy footsteps across the room, accompanied by senseless grumblings. He listened as the fisherman fumbled his way to the door, watched his shadow pull aside the door-drape, heard the full stream of his piss spattering into the snow and the satisfied sigh when he was done.
Erlan deepened his breathing, pretending sleep, as his host crept past him back to his bed. It won’t take long for the ale-soaked old bastard to nod off, thought Erlan. Then he would be away.
But it seemed another urge had been aroused in the fisherman. There were half-hushed mutterings in the dark, smothered whispers passing between the man and his wife, and then a giggle. Erlan lay there in shadow, listening to the shuffle of covers, bodies rustling over one another, more giggles, and eventually familiar grunts and moans as they found their stride.
Erlan had to give the fisherman his due – the old boy had legs, as Garik would have put it. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what it would have been like if he and Inga had had their way. If the Norns had let them live out their love in peace, to grow old like these two. And before long, the woman’s moans and sighs awakened the memory of a younger voice, a younger body, smooth as amber in his hands. The teasing tongue, the whispered words of tenderness, the brush of her hair against his chest.
His sister. Aye – there was the horror of it.
The only woman in all the world he desired. The only woman in all the world he could not desire. Must not.
Beauty and love are slaughtered like swine.
Inga would never grow old. Her breasts would never wrinkle and sag. Her long dark curls would never pale with age. Death had stolen her, and yet somehow it had saved her too. For now she would never change. She would remain the same. For ever.
He looked up at the smoke-hole above the hearth. Flecks of snow were floating down out of the night into the house, only to vanish in the rising heat. Erlan imagined Kai hanging between his posts, his body turning blue. Waiting. On a night like this, the poor little bastard might freeze to death after all.
He looked over at the couple. He could see the silhouette of the fisherwife astride her husband now, cajoling him on to the finish.
He cursed silently, willing the old trout to get on with it.
At least the pair shared one virtue between them: once it was over, they dozed off faster than he could have snapped his fingers. He hesitated just a little longer until the chorus of snores assured him that the fisherman and his wife, sated at last, were both sound asleep.
Wasting no more time, Erlan rose, gathered his things, and slipped out into the night. Outside, the sky was dark, the snow still falling. And behind the silhouetted dwellings glowed the fire where Kai was strung up.
Erlan stole through the shadows, and within moments, he was creeping up behind the boy, knife in hand, stealthy as a murderer. Kai’s silhouette was completely still.
‘You didn’t die on me, did you?’
The boy uttered a pitifully weak moan.
‘Hey!’ he hissed. ‘You still with me?’
‘Odin’s eye, you took your time,’ Kai murmured.
‘Aye, and you don’t want to know why. Now hold still.’ He put his knife to the rope; cut one bond, then the other. The boy fell forward into the snow, his greasy hair hanging over his face.
‘Kai?’
The boy said nothing.
‘Kai!’ he hissed again, throwing his cloak over the boy’s shoulders. ‘Say something. Are you all right?’
The boy looked up, pushing back his hair. In the gloom, his cheeks had a purplish tinge. ‘I bloody will be soon.’ He climbed stiffly to his feet and stumbled over to his tunic and shoes.
‘Good. Then fetch your clothes and the other things, and meet me over there.’ Erlan pointed to the line of trees bordering the edge of the village. ‘Hurry.’
‘I’ll be there.’ Kai’s teeth flashed in his dirty face, and then he was away into the shadows.
Erlan went to untether Idun. There was something reassuring about seeing her long face again, about having her beside him. He led her into the murk under the trees. There, he waited.
It was a while before he heard anything. But then he caught a soft, deliberate sound. At once, he recognized a horse’s footfall. Kai appeared leading a sturdy-looking pony.
‘Where the Hel d’you get that from?’
‘Collecting on some trades I’ve been working up for five years or so.’
‘Whose is it?’
‘Torolf’s. The old bastard came in pretty handy in the end. Thought he probably had no use for this either.’ In one hand, Kai had a sword. ‘Not as good as yours, but better than a set of knuckles.’
‘Did you find a cloak?’
‘Better than that – I got us a couple of furs. Finest lynx. See.’ He put down his sword, and slid something off the pony. ‘Your horse’ll appreciate that.’ He slung a grey-brown fur over Idun’s back.
‘Your old man’s going to be in a fine fury tomorrow.’
‘He’s not my old man,’ rebuked Kai, sharply. ‘Anyway, I’ve earned these, putting up with his horseshit, and the dungheap knows it.’ He shrugged. ‘Then we have this.’ He produced a knife from his belt. ‘I figured we needed something to cut the bread and cheese I took.’ He unslung a bulging linen sack from his shoulder and gave it a reassuring pat. ‘Your aleskin and your pot are in there too.’
‘Did you leave them anything?’
‘It’ll do ’em good. Especially those fat-faced brats. They could do with feeling the pinch of an empty belly for a change.’
Erlan shook his head. ‘If these folk ever catch you, the next rider through here will find you roasting over the bloody fire.’
‘Oh, I almost forgot,’ said Kai, fishing around in a pouch at his belt. ‘I’ve one more thing. Ah, here we are.’ He held out his hand. Even in the dark, Erlan could make out the little metal hoop in his palm.
‘Firesteel.’
CHAPTER TWENTY
The next few days, he discovered two things about Kai. The boy could talk to drive a man from his wits, and he could cook as well as Tolla.
‘If you don’t get much to eat, you learn to make damn sure it tastes good,’ Kai had said, by way of explanation. Which was just as well, because once the bread and cheese were gone, there was little on offer beyond what winter berries they could find and the odd squirrel if they were lucky. Once they snared a beaver, and by the time Kai was done with it, it would have graced the table of any Yuletide feast.
Besides the gnawing hunger, the cold weighed hard on them all, and Erlan was grateful for the stolen furs. And – he had to admit – for the company. It turned out a fire shared was a far less miserable affair than the lonely piles of ash he’d left on his way through the forest. And with two, it was easier to gather wood and to keep it fuelled through the night. He even gained some respite from his troubled thoughts, and often fell asleep to the sound of one of Kai’s songs in his ear.
One evening, a few days after leaving Kai’s village, they reached a small woodland pond, frozen hard. A chill wind was dancing through the trees. Erlan drew his fur tighter. ‘There any dwellings up this way?’
Kai shook his head. ‘Shouldn’t think we’ll see another soul till we’re into Sveäland now.’
From the pond, they tracked uphill, past boulders breaking from the earth, while overhead the canopy knit tighter. Night was coming on.
‘We should stop while there’s some light,’ said Erlan. ‘Much darker and a man won’t find his prick to piss with.’
‘Comes from having a small one, I guess.’
Erlan scowled at Kai. The boy never missed a chance to make a joke. ‘Once we find somewhere dry. . . an overhang or some—’
He halted abruptly.
‘What is it?’
‘Hush!’ hissed Erlan, and pointed ahead. ‘Torches. Through those pines.’
Kai followed his arm, peering into the gloom. ‘I see ’em. They’re close.’
Erlan was already sliding off Idun’s back. ‘Leave the horses. Let’s take a look.’
Kai hit the ground with a crunch.
‘Quietly,’ growled Erlan. They tethered the horses, and were soon stealing towards the bobbing flames.
To Erlan the snow seemed deafeningly loud underfoot, but ahead of them were noises even louder. Muttering voices, cracking wood, and muffled moaning.
Through the trees, he could see torches moving, each flickering above a man’s silhouette. He counted nine, perhaps fifty paces off, all intent on their business. Certainly, they wouldn’t be watching for a pair of runaways skulking in the dark. He signalled Kai to a nearby tree. The boy nodded, reaching for his sword, but Erlan shook his head.
‘Not yet,’ he mouthed. He didn’t want him tripping over the thing and making a racket. Instead, they crouched in the darkness and watched.
The trees opened into a glade. At its centre burned a meagre little fire. He heard mutterings, and then something was flung up into a tree. When it fell, he saw it was a rope. There was a wail, two men hauled on its end and the wail suddenly stopped.
A shadow jerked into the air. The two men grunted, their victim bucking like a fish on a hook, heels scraping at the bark. It took only moments. Then the shadow hung there, twitching.
‘A hanging,’ whispered Kai.
‘I can see it’s a fucking hanging! Keep quiet.’ His eyes tracked around the clearing. He saw another shadow hanging from a tree.
Then another. And another.
Erlan wondered how many would be left there to rot.
Turned out, they were six: five men, one woman. The woman was the last. She fought the hardest. It took three to get the rope on her, three to choke her. She kicked and shrieked like some devil was in her, and when her bowels emptied, the stench only earned her more curses.
Their grisly work complete, one of them – perhaps a holy man or godi – muttered some prayer, doubtless to the Lord of the Hanged. Then they departed.
Erlan motioned to Kai to stay still. It was a while before the forest had muffled the last of their footsteps, leaving only the wind and the creaking ropes.
The fire was dying. Erlan was about to signal Kai that it was time to go when a shadow slid from the circle of trees.
Erlan froze. Kai’s face was a question. Erlan put a finger to his lips.
The shadow was queer indeed. In outline, like some beast – perhaps a small bear – but in movement, like a man, plucking sticks from the ground and throwing them onto the embers until the flames returned to life. As the light grew, so did the figure’s shape. Erlan saw small antlers, and when it turned, the face of a dog. Yet those were human hands.
What the Hel kind of creature is this?
The fire now well lit, the creature crouched down, pulling a drum from under its fur. Peering into the flames, it began beating the drum, chanting low and guttural sounds that Erlan had never heard before.
Kai nudged him and shrugged. Erlan rose in response, and together they edged forward, hands hovering over hilts.
The snow must have given them away at once. But the figure only sat there, as if in some trance, apparently heedless to their approach. The smell from the dead woman poisoned the air.
At Erlan’s signal, they jumped into the pool of light.
Immediately the creature came to life, snatching up a firebrand and leaping to its feet. Now visible was a bearskin covering, from head to toe, and a dog mask hiding the face. In its hand was a gnarled stick.
‘What are you?’ murmured Erlan.
‘He’s a seidman,’ answered Kai.
The figure said nothing. But then brittle laughter pattered through the mask, and the weird figure began beating the drum round his neck. There was no rhythm to the beat. It was jerky, irregular, and he capered about, brandishing his burning stick.
Erlan tried to fix his gaze on the mask, but the flame kept dancing before his eyes, its brightness making them weary.
&n
bsp; ‘What are you doing here?’ he said, trying to see past the flame.
‘Sitting out,’ the other replied, beating his drum. ‘Under the hanged. The dead speak. I listen.’ The voice sounded pinched and high.
‘You are a seidman then,’ blurted Kai.
‘How can a man speak with the dead?’ asked Erlan, shifting his feet to see better the seidman’s mask. But the seidman hid stubbornly behind the flame.
‘The way into darkness is through the light.’ He suddenly swept the torch between them and the flame roared. ‘I do what you are doing. I focus on the flame. See how it dances? How it’s alive? The fire is the wave carrying you into other worlds. The fire burns and bears away your spirit into the arms of Yggdrasil. Deeper and deeper to the very roots of the World Tree.’ He gave a guttural laugh. Erlan’s eyes were growing tired, the fitful tapping of the drum confusing him. ‘See deeper into the flames – as I do. The dead dwell beyond the light. They call from the darkness. They want to speak. They long for a living ear. Through the fire, their words come. And so the trance comes on me. Slowly. Surely. Until—’ BANG! The seidman gave a violent rap on his drum. ‘The threshold is crossed, Yggdrasil is ready, and the Nine Worlds are mine, to fare whither I will.’
The bang had startled Erlan. He shook himself as if waking from a dream. For a moment, he couldn’t remember where he was.
Then he heard Kai speaking.
‘There was a story once,’ the boy was saying, though his voice seemed unnaturally laboured. ‘About a man cursed, dwelling in these forests. They said he danced with dark spirits. That he summoned the draugar from the lands of mist. Folk said when a baby died, it was because he had put the black eye on that house.’
The seidman sounded his brittle laugh, drawing closer to Kai. ‘You think the story true?’
‘I had a baby sister. She died. Here, in my arms.’ His eyes hardened. ‘Was that you – you furry freak?’
‘Now, now, youngling – you should watch your tongue.’
A Mighty Dawn Page 23