by A. E. Rayne
Alys swallowed, hearing a change in Reinar’s voice. Disturbed by it.
And stumbling slightly, she hurried to keep up with him as he led her towards the back of the hall.
Sigurd watched them go, a worried look on his face.
Vik had gone fishing in his boat. It was big enough for two, but compact enough to be manned by his two brawny arms alone. He enjoyed the solitude, and since Jonas appeared to be staying, he was determined to increase their stores before winter hit.
According to Vik, this winter promised to be worse than any in recent memory. Jonas had asked where he’d gotten that information from, not surprised to discover that Vik had heard it from a dreamer he’d seen in Vaara. He smiled, though he did not feel happy. Thinking about dreamers reminded him of his wife and daughter. Of Alys too, who he knew was unhappy. Whenever he’d visited Ullaberg, she’d always insisted she wasn’t, trying to convince them both that Arnon was a good man. Jonas was no dreamer, but he could tell she was lying. And part of him had been relieved to hear her say it, convincing himself that he could not act without her consent, without her expressing a need for his help.
Guilt was a heavy weight to bear.
He saw Alys in his dream, urging him to help her children.
Saying she had sent them to him.
Jonas creaked down onto the step, sighing, rain misting over him. His eyes drifted towards the forest in front of him, caught between what was real, and what was just imagined. Though it was always impossible to know what was real where dreamers were concerned.
And then his wife’s voice, like a gentle kiss, whispering in his ear. ‘You know.’
He shivered, lifting a hand to his face, wondering if somehow Eida was there, watching him. And then he heard her again.
‘You know, Jonas Bergstrom. You know what to do.’
The draft caught the door, shutting it with a bang and Alys jumped, swallowing, as Reinar turned to her.
The long bedchamber was softly-lit. Two lamps hung from the rafters on either side of a low, comfortable-looking bed; two more at the other end of the stone chamber, where fur-lined chairs were positioned around a circular fire pit that crackled invitingly.
Elin had liked light. ‘Just enough,’ she’d smiled, teasing Reinar with her fingers. ‘Just enough so I can see what I’m doing.’
Reinar closed his eyes for a moment, almost feeling her silken hair beneath his fingers as she bent her head to him. And then the fire popped again, and he was back in his chamber, the dreamer in the torn green dress shaking before him.
In two strides, he was in front of her, hands on her arms. ‘You must tell me the truth,’ he growled throatily, eyes devouring hers. ‘Are you really a dreamer, Alys de Sant? Do you truly see the future, or were you just lucky at the estuary? Perhaps you even caught a glimpse of Hakon Vettel’s ships? Perhaps no one saw what you did?’
Alys shivered, frozen with fear. There was no smile in Reinar’s eyes now, nor on his face. The amiable lord had vanished. ‘I... I am... a dreamer. I promise I am, though I have no training. What I see comes to me. I... don’t know how to control my dreams, not as real dreamers do.’
Reinar let her go, stepping away towards the bed, tension building at his temples. ‘My wife is missing.’ He spun back to Alys. ‘Three weeks ago, she went missing.’ His eyes were full of pain, his heart aching. ‘Something has happened to her, but I don’t know what. Salma died before she disappeared. I’ve sent men searching for my wife, I’ve searched for her myself, but no one saw a trace. Her clothes are all still here. I...’ Reinar stepped closer, needing to look into Alys’ eyes. ‘I need you to find her. To dream of her. To see who took her.’
Alys’ mouth hung open. ‘Oh.’ She found herself nodding.
Reinar wanted to believe in her, but he found no reassurance in those frantic eyes. They reminded him of a doe: watchful, full of terror, sensing death approach. Ready to bolt for safety.
But she couldn’t. He wouldn’t let her. Not now.
He needed her to find Elin.
‘Agnette will take you back to the cottage,’ Reinar said, ignoring the look in her eyes. ‘And you will dream.’ He put a hand into his pouch, pulling out a gold bracelet; hungry dragons curling around either end. ‘This was Elin’s. She wanted to give me luck. I forgot to return it to her.’ He held it out to Alys, gripping it tightly. ‘It will help you. Salma said a dreamer can hold on to something as they go to sleep. That it helps to bring them dreams. To find what they’re seeking.’
Alys kept nodding as she reached for the bracelet, her hand touching Reinar’s, seeing a flash of something surprising. Familiar. She jerked away, stepping back.
‘What? What is it?’
‘Nothing.’ Alys moved towards him again, trying to avoid his eyes as she took the bracelet this time, holding it in her hand. ‘I’m sure it will help, though I can’t promise anything. I... I’ve never tried to dream like this before.’
That worried Reinar, but he needed her to feel confident.
It had to work.
He walked around the fire, its flames blustered by the rain and wind rushing down the smoke hole as the weather worsened. ‘You are here for a reason, Alys.’ His voice was softer now. It needed to be, Reinar realised. He would not woo that terrified doe with booming threats. He needed to coax her into trusting him. ‘And I believe that reason is to help me find my wife. To help me find a way to save Ottby and my people too.’
Alys’ eyes continued to blink rapidly as they followed him.
‘Salma died slowly. A sickness took many of my people over the summer. I thought we’d turned a corner, but then Salma took ill. She was a good woman. Wise and kind. Gifted too.’ Reinar sat down in his chair, conscious of the empty chair sitting next to him where Elin would sit, smiling as she stitched colourful patterns of flowers and birds onto her dresses.
She liked everything to look beautiful and bright.
‘The day she died, Salma sent for me. Told me about the final dream she would ever have. It was a dream about you.’
Alys froze.
‘She held my hand, promised that I’d have help, that a dreamer was coming. A woman in a green dress. Hair like a field of wheat ripening beneath a summer’s sun.’ Reinar was back in the cottage, holding Salma’s limp hand. ‘A young woman, she promised.’ And then he was in his chamber again, rain hammering down overhead, his eyes on Alys. ‘She saw you.’
Alys didn’t know what to say. Part of her wanted to scream at him. She didn’t want to be his dreamer. She didn’t want to be here in this unfamiliar place, away from her children, from all that she knew. Though part of her felt relieved to have been torn away from Ullaberg, most of her was trembling, terrified, not knowing what was going to happen next.
She squeezed the golden bracelet, lifting her eyes. ‘I will try.’
It was barely a murmur, but Reinar heard her over the deluge, and he nodded. ‘Come, then. I’ll take you to the cottage.’ He tried to smile, to put Alys at ease. He wanted her to relax, to be able to dream freely. ‘Hopefully, Agnette has managed to get rid of the worst of the smell.’
Alys followed after him, not listening, her thoughts drifting to the woman who had worn the golden bracelet, wondering where she might be.
‘You’ve seen this woman?’ Hakon asked, watching Mother as she hunched over her cauldron, stirring with a grumble. ‘Reinar Vilander’s dreamer?’
Mother nodded. ‘She is a head-turner.’
Hakon frowned, doubting that. He had met only a handful of dreamers in his twenty-three years, and not one of them had been younger than Mother, who was a creaking old crone, uglier than most. ‘Well, I hear he’s misplaced his wife, so I’m sure he’ll be grateful.’
‘He’ll be grateful for more than the way she looks,’ Mother warned, bulging eyes on the young lord. ‘Mark my words. She’s a prize catch, that one.’
Sometimes it occurred to Hakon that he didn’t know whose side Mother was truly on. ‘But we can kill her?’
&nbs
p; Mother laughed, tongue showing, a throaty cackle. ‘Oh, yes, we can kill her. She knows nothing. Not how to defend herself. Not how to attack her enemies. She doesn’t even know how to dream!’ Mother straightened her back with a groan, breathing heavily. ‘I must find Falla, for it is nearly time to begin.’
‘And she will help you?’ Hakon wondered, curious about what Mother was planning. Her cottage was already dark, though night was some way off. She had draped skins over the window to block out any light. Her fire sparked, a single lamp flooding its oil over the floorboards where Mother had drawn a circle.
He wanted to watch her work her magic. He wanted to stay.
‘Falla knows how to help me,’ Mother said, urging Hakon to leave.
And feeling the sudden, unexpected need to head for the hall, Hakon did. ‘I expect to see you in the morning!’ he called, opening the door, greeted by a bone-rattling boom of thunder. ‘To hear how it all went!’
Mother followed him through the door, not noticing the storm at all, her mind flittering like a nesting bird.
Winter was coming. The dreamer would see things.
And everything she wanted would be torn asunder, leaving both her and Falla unsated, far adrift from the vengeance they so hungrily sought.
She would have to act fast.
Agnette took Alys back to the cottage. Reinar came with them, wanting to ensure it would be comfortable for his new dreamer. She was not his prisoner, he tried convincing himself. He wanted her to feel free enough to dream.
He needed her to.
‘It’s a little better,’ Agnette promised, though there was no confidence in her voice.
Reinar gagged, stepping inside, eyes on Agnette. She lifted her shoulders, hands open, not sure what more she could have done in such a short space of time.
‘There is a new mattress,’ Agnette said cheerfully, masking how cross she was with her cousin, who seemed to think she possessed magic in the tips of her swollen fingers. ‘A fresh fur too. Once the rain stops, I’ll burn everything else.’
The smell was still strong, but the mattress looked inviting after the stones Alys had slept on for two nights. She turned around, smiling at Agnette. ‘Thank you.’
‘You may go and see the women,’ Reinar offered. ‘Eat with them, if you like. Bjarni is organising some food. Then I shall bring you back here.’
Agnette backed away, towards the door. The fire was burning brightly now, though the cottage was old, with a damp dirt floor covered in a scattering of tired reeds, and one wall with more wattle than daub. Likely the thatch needed replacing too. She grimaced, gripping her belly, wanting to get back to Stellan before Gerda came looking for her. ‘If you need anything else, Reinar, you know where I’ll be.’
Her cousin nodded distractedly. ‘Can you check on Sigurd? Between Gerda and Tulia, I doubt he’s in for much sympathy or care.’ Agnette disappeared with a nod, hood up, shivering into the rain, and looking back at Alys, Reinar frowned. ‘Perhaps after you see the women, you could check on my brother too? Look at his wounds?’
‘I will, yes, though I won’t know my way around.’
‘No.’ Reinar needed to get back to the hall. He wanted to see Sigurd too. And Torvig would be impatient to speak to him about the women. About Hakon Vettel and his ships, and what they were going to do. ‘I’ll take you to the barn, then I’ll send Ludo to show you around, though it will be dark before long.’ He glanced down at Alys’ feet. ‘You have no boots.’
Alys was back on the beach again, feet sinking into the blissfully cold sand, children’s laughter ringing in her ears. ‘No. I was on the beach when you...’ Her voice faded away.
Reinar pretended he couldn’t hear the pain in it. ‘Agnette will find you something for your feet.’ He stared at her green dress, and though the cottage was still dark, despite the fire, he could see how worn it was. One sleeve was coming off the shoulder, hem torn to bits now. ‘And something to wear.’ He opened the door, avoiding Alys’ eyes as she stepped past him, watching her walk out into the rain, dark-blonde hair hanging down her back, shoulders drooping, mud up to her ankles.
Reinar swallowed, determined to ignore that voice in his head.
He thought instead of Elin, knowing that the dreamer was going to help him get her back.
11
Falla had once been called Falla Torfi, then Hallstein, then Arnesson for a very short time, and now Gundersen.
Yet she had loved none of her husbands.
She wasn’t sure she even knew what love was, though she knew it didn’t matter. Not in the end. Love was irrelevant to survival.
Gold was relevant.
Power and position.
Strength.
Those things were relevant, but love?
Lief’s arms were around her waist, pulling her to him, his lips on hers, devouring her. He had enormous lips which suited his big, long face, though sometimes it felt as though he was trying to swallow her whole. She didn’t grimace, though, for her husband was strong, and he excited her; excited her enough for Falla to ignore those flapping lips.
Eventually, she pulled back, gasping for air. ‘I told you I had to go. Not tomorrow, but now!’ And laughing, she skipped away from Lief, smoothing down her black hair, hooded eyes on her husband, teasing him, knowing she was out of his reach now. ‘But I will return, my love. I shall slip under the furs and wake you with my cold body, and you shall warm me through!’
Lief rarely smiled. His eyes were cold, dark, disfigured with scars. He looked terrifying, and that excited Falla too; though Hakon Vettel was not as enamoured with her husband as she was. And he still had his idiot cousin by his side day and night, leading his army.
A stupid boy like that?
Falla could never understand it.
‘I shall go with you, to Mother’s cottage.’ Lief was almost certain he trusted his wife, but he didn’t like letting her out of his sight, particularly at night.
‘In this storm?’ Falla laughed, her dimples showing. And though she looked happy, she was eager to be gone. He wanted to possess her, she knew. It had been the same with all of her husbands. But that sort of desperation only made her want to escape.
Lief wondered again if she was carrying his child. She appeared plumper, her curves more accentuated. Her dress was not new. It wasn’t that.
‘You stay here, and I will return when Mother is done.’ And stepping towards the door, Falla eyed him. ‘Eggi will listen out for Borg, you needn’t worry. He’s a good boy, so quiet and calm. Just like you.’ And winking at Lief, she slipped through the door, pulling up her hood, her good mood quickly souring at the thought of spending the night trapped in Mother’s stinking cottage.
Alys barely noticed the noise of the storm as the women gathered around her. After Magda had thrown herself into the sea, and Heera and Suvi had died from their arrow wounds, there were twenty-five of them.
And nearly all of them had questions for her.
Alys felt overwhelmed, unable to answer everyone at once.
Stina tried to help. ‘You can’t expect her to know everything!’ she insisted loudly, not caring about the guards stationed by the barn doors. The two men sat on stools, one old, one young, talking to each other, not paying any attention to the loud gaggle of women behind them. There was only one way out, and they were blocking it. And despite the loud clucking noises of all those chattering women, it was better than being stuck out in the rain.
‘But what will they do with us?’ Ingrid wanted to know. She was neither loud, nor confident, but her voice rose just as everyone else’s had gone quiet. ‘Will they sell us?’
‘I expect so,’ Alys said. ‘If they can get you to Goslund without being attacked.’
‘You?’ Ilene snarled. ‘Why do you not say, us, Alys de Sant? Do you think you are different than us? Better? That they will spare you now you’ve revealed your secret?’
Alys lifted her chin. ‘The lord here wants a dreamer, so he will keep me.’
I
lene spat on the straw. ‘How clever you are, Alys, becoming a dreamer at just the right moment. How very convenient!’
Stina stepped forward. ‘Alys doesn’t owe you an explanation, Ilene. She doesn’t owe an explanation to any of us. And whether you like it or not, she is a dreamer. And it’s a good thing for us that she is or we may all be dead now, or at another village being raped by men whose lord doesn’t care what condition his prisoners are left in!’
Ilene glared at Stina but kept her mouth closed.
A table had been brought in, and on that table, servants had left trays of rye bread, soft cheese, and thin slices of salted fish. There was not much, though many of them felt too anxious to eat, and some were still nauseous from their sea journey, so much of it went untouched.
Stina helped herself to a slice of bread, adding a smear of cheese to it. She felt just as ill as the rest of them, but she worried that this would be their only meal for some time. ‘We should eat. Stop attacking Alys with your questions and eat. Drink too. They may only feed us once a day, if that.’ And glancing at the guards, she lowered her voice. ‘This doesn’t appear the most prosperous place. Everyone looks a little starved.’
‘Well, if they came away from Ullaberg with goats and piglets, I’m guessing they are,’ Jorunn grouched, but she grabbed a slice of bread herself, listening to her stomach rumble.
The women had had their eating knives removed from their belts; the bread had been sliced for them.
Alys helped herself to a sliver of salt fish, though she didn’t want it. Stina smiled at her, and they walked to the other side of the barn together, Ilene scowling after them.
‘What will they do to you?’ Stina wondered quickly, sensing that they wouldn’t be alone for long. ‘The lord, what’s his name?’
‘Reinar. He...’ Alys turned her eyes away from Stina’s, down to the fish. ‘He wants me to help him. The ships that attacked us... he wants me to find ways to help.’