by M J Porter
She reasoned that if her husband was dead then why shouldn’t she be. Perhaps he could seek Anya out at the Council and she would be able to prescribe a concoction that would make his mother well and lift her spirits?
As he lurched towards his area of the sleeping loft he couldn’t help wondering about the events of earlier. He knew that he obviously hadn’t really seen his father, yet couldn’t stop wondering why a vision of his father had come to him at his time of greatest need. Never before had he seen his father, even in his moments of deepest despair. If he closed his eyes now he was sure that he could still feel the pressure of his father’s’ hand on his back guiding him back to his home. He shook his head. Perhaps he had simply been so desperate to see his father, and so desperate to survive that he had imagined him there, as a way to motivate himself to get back inside.
With a crack, he whacked his head on the roof beam that ran the length of the loft. He cursed, loudly. How many times had he walked this way and never before had he cracked his head. He rubbed the inflamed part of his head above his left eye, and felt a lump already beginning to form. He cursed again. It was really going to hurt before it healed. Then he bent to pick up whatever he had dislodged as he had hit his head. He assumed it would be a small dead animal, or a piece of the turf roof that was ancient. Instead his hands closed on a soft wrapping and he bent to pick it up intrigued.
There was no light in the loft as everyone else was sleeping and so he shuffled back towards the opening leading to the lower floor of his steading. In the dim glow from the fire, and the nightlight, he unwrapped the package he had dislodged, and exclaimed out loud when he realised what he had found. It was his father’s journal. He remembered now that he had been upstairs that day before Rankil had come to take him away. He must have hastily stowed the journal before running for the door.
Erann reverentially ran his hands down the soft binding he had not been allowed to touch as a small child. The hide was soft and well worn. The journal opened of its own accord to show his father’s neat but cramped handwriting. Erann frowned in wonder. What was it had been writing? The journal page held two columns of numbers, almost identical. Or rather they were at the top of the page, as he ran his fingers down the columns in the weak light, he realised that the one number increased to the detriment of the other as he neared the last entry. What was this? His father had prized this journal, and it had been his great secret from Erann. But what did it all mean. Pondering, he re-wrapped the journal, and took it to his bedside where he placed it down. He would look at it further in the morning. For now, his head was pounding from banging it on the beam, and his body was starting to shake in remembered cold from earlier. He needed to sleep.
* * *
He woke, sweating and shivering. Every part of his body screamed in agony and he panicked, completely when he remembered where he was. His breath came in desperate gasps and he was convinced that with every snatched mouthful he was getting less and less pure air into his lungs. This was it; he was going to die here. Alone. Thank the Gods he had saved Sereh. His death would not be for nothing. His vision dimmed at the corners as he pulled in less and less air. He sank back to unconsciousness.
* * *
At this time of the rotation the door was usually stiff to open and annoyingly, stiff to close; the ice and snow sticking to the door as if it knew the thaw was only just around the corner. Today it swung open easily, and Erann was taken by surprise when he lifted his head to see where he was going. There was a thin streak of deepest green lancing across the black tapestry of the sky. Grabbing Hakon’s arm before he could slam the door shut behind him, he pointed in the direction of the sight. This was a good sign. Tomorrow the sun would rise for the first time since the start of the Long Night.
He suddenly felt giddy with excitement and wondered why that should be. This Long Day would see Jarl Rankil officially instated in his position as Jarl of the Eastern Quarter. It would finally and irrevocably signify to everyone that his own father had been guilty of the crimes he had committed. For some inexplicable reason Erann felt strangely hopeful.
He turned away from the outer door and walked back towards where his mother sat in her chair. She was always just as excited as him when the Long Night ended and he rushed to tell her, as excited as he had been as a small boy.
“That’s wonderful Erann”, she said in her tired voice, unable to mask the utter apathy that the news bought her.
“Perhaps now we will be able to go to the Council and meet up with Anya. I’m sure that she will have some herb knowledge that will make you better”.
“I don’t want to go anywhere Erann, anywhere at all. I am quite happy to just sit here and wait for what will happen to happen. Surely you must know that by now Erann.” She looked at him with her piercing brown eyes which now lacked their former vibrancy. Her words filled him with profound agony and he instantly knew that this was what she had been trying to tell him throughout the long Long Night. Maybe she was right. She had stayed strong for a long time and it had all been in vain. Maybe now was the right time for her to go. In an instant he suddenly became angry at his mother, and practically shouted.
“You’re not the only one who’s suffered you know. I have been here just as long as you, hoping and praying that he would return. What am I supposed to do if you go as well? Am I just supposed to lie down and die as well”?
His angry words shocked him. They had never fought before and he was taken a little aback by her quiet, dignified response,
“I’m sorry son. I know what you have done, and you will probably never know just how much I appreciate everything you have done, for me, and your brother and your sister. I know how much you hurt and how angry you are about what happened and I only wish I could make it all better. I hoped that I could. I have hoped every day for the past eight rotations. I guess that hope is not enough. It’s not brought your father back, and sadly it has not bought about the end of Rankil. I have persevered for too long son, and I simply want to go”. Her voice was calm and measured. She had not reacted furiously to his words. Erann’s sudden anger was instantly replaced with a sorrow so deep that he felt as if his feet were welded to the floor. He couldn’t have moved if the steading had been on fire. The sense of loss and hopelessness that completely overwhelmed him made him feel sick and he instantly craved the cold of outside. He did not wish to listen to his mother telling him how much she wished to die. He needed to see the outdoors and revel in its glory.
Turning abruptly he more lurched than walked back towards the door Hakon was still holding open, as he gazed at the shining streaks of colour in wonderment. As he stepped through the door into the cold wind and deep snow his mood abruptly changed and he found himself grinning wildly with delight. Somehow, and he wasn’t entirely sure how, they had made it through the Long Night. His disapproval at his mother’s’ words disappeared and he reached an instant decision. He did not care what she said. He would not let her die now. She had lived through too much, and his father would not approve of her giving up, and even less of Erann not doing everything in his power to keep her alive. He would take her to his uncles, and from there they would journey to the Council. They would have to take advantage of the crops from the communal gardens this rotation, but he did not care. Saving his mother was more important than saving face. He would do everything he could to keep what remained of his family together. Perhaps they could even spend the next Long Night with his uncle? With some female company around in the form of his aunt and cousins, his mother would not sink into her gloomy moods so easily. The thoughts cheered him, and somehow, felt right. He returned indoors. He must see to the animals and organise Hakon if he was going to make an early start on his resolutions come the morning.
* * *
He woke. The light was different now. Far less bright. He could feel a crushing weight all around him. He felt hot whilst knowing that in reality he was colder than he had ever been. The shivering gave it away and made him aware with every convuls
ion that his entire body was in agony. He wondered if he had always been here, wondered what sort of existence he lived. His throat hurt. His head started to pound and he gratefully closed his eyes again and returned to oblivion.
* * *
Erann was surprised by how much he was enjoying his journey. Yes, he didn’t really want to get to his destination, but he was able to not think about that most of the time. He realised that there was no one else who could help his mother and he had resigned himself to facing Rankil’s ridicule. He vainly hoped that he would be able to see Anya without having to see Rankil but knew that was unlikely. Rankil would probably make a big scene and make sure that Erann’s sister was also aware of his visit there. Erann wondered what made the man so intent on causing other people pain.
The scene before him was stunningly breathtaking. As far as the eye could see there was just deep, pure, brilliant white snow. It was bedazzling when the sun shone on it and turned it to an assortment of sparkling gems in every colour of the spectrum. Erann was slightly worried that he would start to suffer from snow blindness if he was not careful. It was most unusual for so much snow to still be lying on the ground. Normally the snow started to melt as soon as the sun returned in the Long Day.
Whilst the sun was not overly powerful, its presence after so much dark normally affected the snow quickly. By now the scene before him should have been a vast pool of melting snow waters that would eventually make their way to the many rivers that dissected the land. Instead there was snow stretching across the horizon and Erann could not really tell if the thaw had even started. Certainly as he walked it was quiet with no sound of running water anywhere. He kept glancing up at the faintly glowing orb with some confusion. He was sure it did not appear as high in the sky as normal.
As he trudged through the ever-changing snow each day he had been counting the other planets as he saw them, as much for distraction as genuine interest. There was Thor, who showed his face at dawn. He glowed a dull red. Next to Thor was Odin, a bright jade planet that seemed to pulse from within. It appeared around noon and stayed there until replaced by a smaller planet named Frey. Frey sparkled sapphire as night descended and then when all the other planets had taken their turn, Loki would appear, a tiny planet, often hard to find as it neither sparkled nor glowed. Many of his people had never seen Loki. Only those with the inclination would look for Loki. Erann could find Loki easily and quickly in the night sky as a black shadow against the carpet of the stars. His father had taught him well during the Long Nights they had shared before his exile.
During the Long Night it was far easier to spot the planets, although of course, far colder too as it involved sticking your heads outside the loft hatch in the roof of their steading. Still, they all seemed to be fine, and to be in their normal places. He wondered what made him consider the position of the Sun at all. He shook the thoughts from him, like a wet dog shedding excess water. He did not need to find even more things to worry about.
His thoughts returned to his mother. After he had fought with her he had reached the decision to leave their home the very next day. The more excited he had become the more his mother had sunk back in on herself. He was slightly uneasy at leaving the steading alone but Hakon was too young to be left alone with the cares of an adult and so Erann had no choice in the matter. The animals he would take with him. The crops he hoped would fend for themselves and be ready for harvest when he returned home. Not once in the last seven rotations had all of them left their steading at the same time. It had felt very strange as he had bolted the outer door closed.
Luckily the expedition had been uneventful and his mother had completed the trip, if grudgingly. She did not speak to Erann the whole journey. He hoped that she would forgive him when she started to feel better. His uncle and aunt had a large family and a small welcoming farm even at this time of the rotation, with food and resources scarce before the early harvest. Erann hoped that she would find it easier to be amongst so many people as she would have less time for her dark thoughts and more time for idle conversation. He also knew that Hakon would thrive in the substantially increased company. The lad spent too much time alone, with his head stuck in old scripts.
The going had been rough in the freezing conditions, the temperature rising little throughout the chill short day. He had been glad of his furs, still arriving frigid to the bone. His uncle did not live all that far from Erann’s home, to the south and slightly to the west, in a small settlement with two other families. It had only taken the best part of the chill first day to get there. He had felt a little nervous about his reception because they had not visited at all over the last few rotations – there was too much to do on the steading and too few of them to do it all.
He had also been unable to send word of their arrival. His aunt and uncle, however, had welcomed them with open arms and tears of joy on his aunt’s face. She had shared a rather concerned look with him when she had seen the state his mother was in, practically monosyllabic and so pale she was almost the colour of her white hare fur cloak. Erann had looked back with a pained expression on his face that she’d taken to mean that he shared the concern she felt.
Whereas his mother had always been slim and almost waif like, his aunt was much more boisterously built, engulfing him in her over-exuberant embrace. She had whispered in his ear,
“How long has she been this bad?” and he had replied,
“She has become much worse as the Long Night has gone on. I am at my wits end and hope to speak to Anya about her soon.”
“Good lad, she will know what to do, and I will keep her here until you get back.”
Erann had felt almost pathetically grateful for her help. It had made him realise how much time he spent alone, in fact, how much time they all spent alone. Their family was now so small as to be barely workable, and he knew that he would have to carefully consider the future after this rotation. Now that his father was not returning it might be time to move away from their isolated farm steading, and into a more densely populated settlement where there would be other people to call on in times of need.The prestigious isolation of a Jarl was no longer to be craved.
Erann also took the opportunity to talk to his uncle about his father and the journal he had found, and they had both discussed how long the Long Night had lasted this rotation. Thorkell stated that he thought the Long Night had been a good few weeks too long and commented that their food supplies had begun to run dangerously low. However, until Erann had asked him, he had not considered that the Long Night may have been longer than its normal twenty four weeks and neither could he throw any light on the journal, which Erann now carried with him wherever he went. He did not want to be without the journal in case he did work out its meaning. It also made him feel as though he carried a part of his father around with him. No matter how small that part was. He felt it carried important secrets which he needed to unravel. Thorkell was deeply intrigued by it. He had fingered the soft cover lovingly, and then reverently touched the silky soft pages inside with a look of wonder on his face,
“Whatever this is all about, it is exceptionally old Erann. Gods know how long this has been in your family?”
Erann had felt strangely pleased by Thorkell’s reaction – or maybe he was just pleased that he wasn’t the only one to be intrigued by it.
“You let me know if you ever figure it out, won’t you?” had been his parting shot, before they had turned the talk to the more practical elements of Erann’s journey, his sister’s reaction to his request, what they both knew was coming at the Council meeting at the height of the Long Day, and the ill health of his mother. Erann had felt comforted by the sharing of his worries. Again, it had made him realise how isolated he had become, and how self-contained. He knew that he, as much as his mother, needed to reach outside of himself to broaden his interests and find peace with others his own age.
* * *
He woke abruptly, a sense of calm penetrating deep within him. He almost smiled but it hur
t and felt awkward, lopsided somehow. He breathed in deeply luxuriating in the knowledge that he was still alive. He had been so sure last time he woke that he was going to die. The air within his prison felt pure and he realised that there was a small hole directly above his head, through which he could see daylight, provided he closed one eye and concentrated hard on what he was doing. He lifted his hand to place it over the hole and to feel the gentle flow of air which entered his prison. As he did there was a low growl all around him, and the faint light from the hole was obliterated. He cried out in frustration as more rocks fell around him. One landed, heavily, on his stomach. He jerked upright in pain and as he did torment lashed up his legs, and he hit his head on the ice shelf above him. The pain consumed him.
* * *
As Erann neared the solitary steading he was surprised to note that there was no one about and that the outer door was still locked tight against the Long Night cold and dark. His heart instantly sank. Thorkell had told him just how low his own food supplies had fallen and Erann had conceded that they had also come close to starvation. He vaguely wondered if the smell would have hit him when he was much further away if the weather had been warmer. As it was it was only as he neared the door that the faint smell of death reached him, dampening his joy in the beautiful day.
The steading looked neat and tidy as it hugged the ground. It still wore its Long Night cloak of white that glittered every hue of the spectrum as he glanced at it. The steading was positioned away from Vatna Jokull and out of the shadow of the hulking giant mountains that surrounded it. It looked well maintained and loved. He was torn by indecision. By rights he should stay and see to the dead, and then report the unlucky happening to his Jarl, but all he really wanted to do was run away. He did not want to see any death now; not when he was feeling the stirrings of hope within him. His conscience warred for a few heartbeats and then with a heavy sign, he walked up to the front door and yanked it open holding his fur to his nose to block the smell of death and decay he knew would greet his actions.