Purple (The Dragon of Unison Book 1)

by M J Porter

  They slurped in peace and Erann began to relax, slightly. Arrow had her own bowl of soup and was noisily lapping it up, allowing them both to concentrate on her instead of on each other. When Arrow finished she padded over to Erann. He stroked her between her downy soft ears and, and then she walked to Sereh, where she flopped down, her grey and black head in Sereh’s lap. Absent mindedly, Sereh stroked her between her ears as she gazed out upon the star lit blanket of the night.

  The fire crackled and Erann idly wondered what they were burning before more closely examining Sereh. Her face was a perfect oval shape; her nose small and well-rounded; her chapped red lips, small but well-formed. Her hair was hidden under a white wolf fur hat, although stray wisps of hair so blonde it looked almost golden, framed her face. For all that, it was her eyes that held him. They were intense and looked haunted; older than she was. He wanted to ask why and to rub at the deep black shadows under those eyes but dare not. He could not ask her about life with Rankil, the man he hated. He could not even bring himself to ask after his sister. Their angry argument on parting was bound to be no secret from someone who now served in her new household. Instead he drank his soup, stepped outside briefly to relieve himself under the pristine stars, where the third planet was just starting to crest the horizon, and returned to his make shift bed to sleep.

  He did not sleep though. Instead he listened to Sereh’s exaggerated attempts to tend the fire, repack the backpack and settle down to sleep. He did not speak and he did not watch her, his back turned the whole time. Only when she crawled under the furs next to him did he move at all and that was to offer her more room, silently. She huffed a response before she too turned her back and tried to sleep. Only when her breathing stilled as in sleep did he relax his tense posture and breathe more freely.

  He would leave at first light. He did not want to endure any more of this uncomfortable proximity to someone who was too inquisitive for their own good. His mind made up he lay eyes closed, his breathing even, waiting for the first light of day so that he could make his escape.

  * * *

  He felt someone call his name. It was a strange sensation. He struggled to open his eyes and focus whilst trying to croak a response that he was here, and he was all right. His mouth was so dry he could not make more than a harsh rasp before subsiding into a coughing fit that lashed pain up and down his entire body. His eyes opened as pained slits and took in his surroundings in the small light that still lit the hollow he occupied. Ah yes. He remembered now. Was someone looking for him or had he imagined the sensation? Would Sereh even be able to find him? He hoped so but instantly realised it was futile. No one was going to be able to find him, let alone dig him out. His coughing subsided and he licked his dry lips with his parched tongue. He needed water and so reached up and broke a piece of ice from above his head. He tensed in anticipation of a further ice or rock fall. Nothing happened. He reached his hand up to his mouth and hungrily sucked the frozen ice. It made his teeth scream in agony but he persisted. He wondered why. Why should he extend his life when there was no hope of survival? He felt something brush against his mind. It was a strange presence. It was calming and yet totally unlike anything else he had ever felt. He tried to grasp whatever it was but instead found himself again spirally down into blackness.

  * * *

  He had finally reached the steading of Rankil and his sister as the sun was streaking the horizon in an assortment of deep blues and pale purples. He had left Sereh as soon as he had been able to see through the early morning fog and he had walked steadfastly all day, stopping only when necessity dictated that he do so. He felt amazingly relieved to see the smoke from Rankil’s fire on the horizon as he finally cleared the vast Vatna Jokull. He had never thought that he would be pleased to actually see Rankil, but it meant that he was half way through his journey and that he would soon be able to see his mother well and, hopefully, happy. That was all that he wanted right now.

  He did not want to have to think about the steading he had stopped in or his night of incoherence on the glacier, and his meeting with Sereh. When his thoughts turned to her, he became distracted and he had to rein them in every time so that he could concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. He wondered why he had left so quickly without even saying goodbye and why he had been so ungracious to her. The only thing that he could think of was that he had been embarrassed and self conscious that she had found him on the glacier and discomfited that he had no credible explanation to give to her. He had also been scared that he had found himself in such a vulnerable position and so dependent on someone else for his very survival. His previous excursion out of doors during the Long Night had unnerved him. His latest escapade had scared him more than he thought possible. Was he sickening with something?

  Rankil’s home was the same routine structure as all the others on Unison. There was no more to look at on the outside than any other farm. At this time of the Long Night the grass roof was still covered by a deep white blanket, and snow lay thick on the ground, almost reaching up to the low hanging roof. The windows were yet shuttered and the outer door firmly closed. None of the servants seemed to be at work in the two attendant ancillary buildings that were used only during the Long Day.

  He stamped to the door through the heavy snow, noticing as he did that no path had yet been cleared, and banged loudly on it. He had a momentary flash back to the day that it had been Rankil banging on his own door, and he had to push the thought firmly to the back of his mind. He needed to ask for Rankil’s help and dwelling on the past would not be fruitful at the moment.

  He banged, and then he banged again. No one answered. He hammered on the door with both of his fists and finally heard some sort of shuffling behind the heavy wooden door. The door slowly opened and Erann was almost blinded by a light thrust into his face. Whoever opened the door beckoned for him to enter and he was admitted into the area between the inner and the outer door. Even from here, the aroma of the inner rooms could be smelt, overpowering even the smell of the far closer latrines, and Erann worked hard to keep his face straight. It was a disgusting smell of animal dung, human sweat and over cooked food. Erann would have thought that Rankil would have at least started to cleanse his home from the Long Night in the three days since the sun had first risen. He was obviously wrong.

  The light was lowered from the face of the person who had opened the door, and Erann was immediately elated. It was Anya, the very person he had come to seek out. There was instant recognition on her face and a brief whispered conversation ensued between the two as they both struggled to speak first.

  “Anya, its so good to see you. I have come. I am desperate. I need your help with my mother. Is there anyway that Rankil would let you come with me for a few days?”

  “Erann, you are a sight for sore eyes. I have missed you. Look how you’ve grown. You are a strong, and dare I say it, handsome young man these days”. Her tone was teasing, even as she assessed his words spoken to her.

  Erann felt himself blush at the complement. He was not overly aware of his own looks. He saw only his mother, his brother, and until the last Long Night, his sister. None of them were likely to comment on his looks, or in fact ever had.

  “As to your request. I am not sure. Is your mother really so ill? Sorry, that’s a stupid question. You would not be here unless she was. I will have to speak to your sister. I know that you and she no longer see eye to eye but she is our only hope. Rankil dotes on her, and there is much more at stake than you realise. Now quickly, come inside. I will announce you to the Jarl”, he winced at the use of the word and Anya squeezed his arm comfortingly, “and we will see what can be done. You look well, I am pleased”.

  They reached the inner door to the steading and Erann steeled himself for a fresh influx of the terrible smell. Anya noticed,

  “You’ll get used to it, though I pity you if you have to stay so long that you get used to it. Rankil is not yet ready for his steading to be cleansed. He is still s
ulking after he lost that young girl who used to read to him. Stupid old fool. He should not have forced her to go outside on the first day of the Long Day, especially when he knew that this Long Night has been somewhat longer than normal. Everything was too unpredictable for him to do what he did. But then, he ever was a fool”. At that Anya’s voice dropped back to a whisper, and Erann was able to hide his shock at her words because the stench really was terrible, and his face contorted in disgust. He heard a low chuckle from Anya. His mind was working frantically, working out the implications of what she had just told him, whilst also trying to act in an acceptable way as a guest in the steading of the man who was not only his brother by marriage, but also his sworn enemy.

  The steading was no larger than Erann’s own, however, it was curtained off into smaller areas and Anya expertly guided him through the huge heavy curtain that served as a door to the common room. It was festooned with dust and damp and Erann stepped through gingerly, hoping he would not touch it with his own clothing. The common room was filled with a group of men who were lying stretched on the benches to either side of the building. Erann’s own family had long since stopped using the benches in their own home. They were uncomfortable and too liable to the occasional drip from the roof ahead, not to mention damp rising from the ground. The smell of damp now predominated and Erann again worked to keep his face straight. How could his sister prefer this slovenly home to her own?

  Anya bade him to sit by the fire on a low wooden stall, and went to inform her Jarl that he had a guest. Erann felt deeply uncomfortable and could not stop his eyes from flicking all around him. The steading was in a terrible state of repair with water leaking through the turf roof and the floor rough and uneven beneath his feet, with no sign of the usual raised wooden floor. He wondered how his sister could stand it here, and as his thoughts turned to her he saw her enter, inconspicuously, through the heavy curtain. He was shocked at the change in her appearance and was forced to again work to keep his face a perfectly smooth mask. She had always been thin but now she was almost skeletal, looking behind her nervously as she entered. She came straight to him and Erann realised that Anya must have informed Aras first of his arrival before going to Rankil. It would give them a few precious moments to talk, although he was surprised that his sister wanted to talk to him.

  She was gorgeously attired in a rich thick grey wolf’s pelt that perched on her shoulders, and her skirts were likewise warmly layered in a matching fur. She might well look awful to his eyes, but she was doing it with a style that he was sure Rankil appreciated. Her beautiful long hair was tied back from her thin face in intricate rings and he could appreciate that she was doing her best to look attractive for Rankil.

  “Erann, my brother, it is so good to see you. I am glad that you are here, “she announced loudly enough for the other inhabitants of the room to hear and then in a whisper, “Is it true, is mother really so ill that you have had to come here?”

  Erann was taken aback. He had expected all sorts of reactions from Aras, but this one, of concern for their mother, had not featured at all in his considerations. He spoke gently and urgently,

  “Yes, I am afraid that she has lost the will to live, with father not returning, and … and everything else”. He wondered why he thought to protect her from the truth whilst at the same time realising from the wince on her face that he had been completely unsuccessful. She was only too aware of the effect her actions would have had on their mother. Still in a whisper she said,

  “I will make him send Anya, and I will go myself as well. Will you escort me home Erann?” Her tone was pleading and she glanced anxiously at the other inhabitants of the room to make sure that they were not paying too much attention to their conversation. He found himself answering in a brusque voice in his surprise at her words,

  “Mother is not at home, she is with Aunt and Uncle. Do you think Rankil will let you go that far?”

  For an answer she squeezed his arm, in the same place that Aras had, and whispered,

  “I shall make him. Just you wait and see. Erann, please, please understand, I did not want this to happen. I did not want mother to become ill”.

  Erann’s tone was more reassuring this time,

  “I would not make it all your fault Aras. The knowledge that our father must be dead has crippled her with grief. Anything else is just an extra burden when she can not cope with the first. I’m sure that just seeing you will make it easier for her”.

  Erann was surprised to see tears in Aras’s deep blue eyes, and in a heartbeat he understood just how hard this was for her. He searched her eyes and saw with clarity he had not had before that she was not doing this just for herself; she was doing it for all of them. His heart went out to her, and he found himself brushing the tears from her eyes with his fingertips. His sister was loyal and brave after all, if perhaps stubbornly stupid in her actions. He realised being here with Rankil must be intolerable. Her desire to see their mother was an excuse to escape from the turgid conditions she now found herself in.

  He wanted to say more, to comfort her, to berate her, to remind her that she could leave him if she wanted to, but her eyes silenced him, and she swept a deep curtsy that made Erann rise from his seat by the fire. Behind him Rankil had entered the room and Erann plastered a smile on his face. The man was odious in all his actions, if reasonably well proportioned to look upon. Rumour had it that he could have any woman he wanted in his bed with his dark looks and prominent chin and forehead. Erann did not see it himself, and as he glanced uncertainly between his sister and her husband, he realised that she did not see it either. All her protestations of attraction to Rankil when they had discussed the marriage had been fake. He could have wept for his sister.

  Rankil strode forward in his knee high fur boots, with intricate lacing’s and protectively placed his arm around the thin shoulders of Aras. Erann suppressed a grimace. It was not as if she needed protection from him, more likely that she needed protection from the one who was now professing protection. Aras shook her head slightly, a movement too subtle for Rankil to notice, but one which Erann immediately understood as a say nothing and behave normally request.

  Aras said in a cold, almost dead voice,

  “So brother, what brings you to my married home? I do believe you vowed to never step foot inside my doors once I was married”. It was a low blow. Erann let it pass. She had a part to play and knew that Rankil would be expecting her to goad her brother. Erann winced at the memory of his final conversation with his sister, and responded in an equally dead tone,

  “Mother is extremely ill and I had hope that my Jarl would lend me the aid of your herb woman.”

  “Surely you would not expect me to do without the aid of my herb woman so that she might assist my mother. You must know me better than that brother. I am here so that I may no longer miss out on the necessities of life, something you and my mother are no longer able to provide me with. Why should I put myself and my herb woman at your pleasure?”

  Erann sucked in a shocked breath at her words even though he knew they were purely for Rankil’s benefit. Rankil was laughing merrily to himself and in that moment it took all of Erann’s will power to not just reach out and grab the man around his neck. His next words made Erann redouble his efforts at self control.

  “Indeed my dear, we should not be without our herb woman, especially when it is so likely that you are with child, or soon will be”.

  His tone was sickly sweet, his grey eyes fierce as they bore into Erann’s own.

  “I know my love”, was her immediate reply, her tone placatory, “however, I would not want it to be said that I abandoned my sick mother and refused her any aid. Surely we could do without the herb woman for a little while? I know that I am not yet with child and it is only a short journey. Perhaps if we cannot spare Anya, then Mother could come here?” Her tone was neutral.

  Erann’s head snapped to meet his sister’s eyes. Her efforts to stay in control were apparent to him. A
ras knew that the last thing her mother would want to do would be to visit this steading. She hated Rankil with a passion borne only from loving her husband so much.

  “Sadly, mother is too ill to travel and the conditions are still treacherous underfoot and the nights exceptionally bitter. Mother is also now at Uncle’s and so the journey is a little further.” Erann rushed his words in an effort to get them out before anything could be agreed that he did not like and which would be contrary to their hastily assembled plan

  “Perhaps, if she is this ill, I myself should journey to visit her and take Anya with me? That way if I have need of Anya she will be with me as well as mother.”

  Erann saw Rankil’s hold on his sister’s shoulders stiffen and he feared that she may have been too transparent. He looked briefly away to hide his own emotions. When he looked back at Rankil’s face he realised with relief that he was smiling in his own conceited way.

  “Yes my dear, that would be acceptable, provided you did not stay away from me for too long. We have the Council meeting to attend at the height of the Long Day and I would not want you to miss my crowning glory. Perhaps your mother will be better and she would be able to attend you at the Council?”

  Erann was curious to see how Aras would play this. Their mother would not want to go to the Council, yet, Rankil had now made it almost a certainty. If their mother did not now go it could only be because she was too ill too attend, or worse dead. Any other option would be taken as a major affront by Rankil and he would no doubt wax lyrical about the whole thing. Aras went along with him and Erann let out a small sigh of relief as a slow smile curved her lips as she responded,