by A. E. Rayne
Magnus glanced up at the sky, trying to guess how long it would be before night came to finish the day. He hoped it would come soon; that the farmer wouldn’t keep him working through the night. Realising that it was a possibility, Magnus picked up his pace, his tense shoulders up around his ears.
He heard his mother’s voice in his head, urging him on.
His father had always forced him to do tasks that Magnus didn’t want to do, making him finish while he cried and struggled, begging his mother to help him. But his father would never let her, and, in the end, Magnus knew it was safer for all of them if he just kept going.
His father had been a cruel man. And though Magnus didn’t think the farmer was an especially evil man, he was not a caring one. He had bought a boy, taken him from his sister, watched him crying as they parted, begging him to help her.
And then he’d put him to work as though he was not a boy at all.
Magnus closed his eyes, listening to his mother’s reassuring voice. ‘Keep going,’ she urged. ‘Keep going.’ And opening his eyes, Magnus tried not to cry, wanting to feel her hand on his shoulder.
Reinar stood with his back against the door as Alys removed her cloak and picked up the book.
He felt conflicted. About everything.
‘All I can do is keep reading,’ Alys sighed, sitting on a stool, ignoring the cold cottage and the ash in the fire pit. Ignoring Reinar too. ‘I have to find the answers I need. There are other books. Two more. I found them wrapped in clothes in that chest.’
‘Then you should stay here.’ Reinar saw the tinderbox, and, unpinning his own cloak, leaving it on a stool, he bent to the ground, setting a fire. ‘Read while there’s enough light. While both eyes are still open. I’m sure Tulia won’t miss you.’
Alys looked up suddenly, surprised to see him there, right beside her. ‘I will, thank you, though you needn’t stay. I can do that. You must have better things to do.’ She edged away from Reinar, ever so slightly. She felt awkward, not knowing what he wanted from her.
Not wanting to be distracted by him.
‘We’ll go riding tomorrow,’ Reinar said. ‘I’ll come for you after breakfast. Your friends will be sleeping in cottages tonight. Fed supper and breakfast too. Free to roam around the fort.’ He frowned, wondering if that was for the best. ‘Well, perhaps not entirely free. For their own safety, I may need to have a few guards watching them. There are some around here I wouldn’t trust.’
Alys wasn’t listening. Her finger remained on the page she had read that morning, before the cocks were crowing, her mind whirring with thoughts of her grandfather, her children, and Stina. She looked up suddenly. ‘You’re going to guard them?’
Satisfied that the flames were going to take, Reinar tucked the flint back into the tinderbox and stood, leaving it on the stool next to Alys, before heading to the woodpile. Carefully placing a log near the new flames, he sat down, warming his hands. ‘For now. I don’t trust everyone here. Not the new men, at least. Rutger’s men. Some of them remain. They’re not as suspicious as the rest of us, it seems.’ He was quiet, then, not sure what to say. ‘I’ll keep them safe, don’t worry.’
Alys nodded, wanting him to leave.
And sensing it, Reinar stood. ‘It’s important that you dream, Alys,’ he said, trying to get her attention, but she had returned to the book. ‘I don’t wish to be a distraction.’
Alys looked up again, watching his discomfort grow. ‘Everything is a distraction,’ she admitted. ‘All of it. The square and the fighting and the noise and the women.’ Her eye ached suddenly, and she winced. ‘I need to stay in here. Alone. Though, perhaps Agnette could bring me some supper?’ She realised that Stina was not the help she needed. Stina didn’t know the fort. She didn’t know how to find the ingredients the spell called for, but perhaps Agnette did?
Reinar nodded, though just the sound of his cousin’s name made him frown, which reminded him of Elin, and he grabbed his cloak, heading for the door. ‘She’d be happy to, I’m sure. And, in the meantime, stay here, stay warm, and enjoy your reading. Though,’ he looked back over his shoulder, touching his own eye. ‘It might get a little hard to see soon.’
Alys stared at him, swallowing. His eyes were a softer blue than his brother’s, but somehow just as intense as they fixed upon her. She didn’t look away, though, and nor did Reinar, and they stayed like that for a moment, neither one breaking the trance.
And then a knock on the door had Reinar blinking, and he grabbed the handle, pushing it open.
To Ludo, who stood there with a fur in his arms, the white cat rubbing himself against his legs. ‘Oh.’ He stared at a flustered Reinar, his eyes quickly moving past him to Alys, who looked just as awkward. ‘I found your cat. Thought you might appreciate another fur too. With the snow coming, it’s going to be freezing tonight.’
‘Thank you,’ Alys smiled as Ludo made to bring it inside.
Reinar stuck out an arm. ‘She doesn’t want to be disturbed. She has to read.’ He took the fur as Winter bounded inside, and left it on the bed, heading back to the door before Ludo could make himself at home. ‘I’ll send Agnette,’ he said, with a quick look at Alys before shutting the door behind them.
Alys felt all the air leave her body as she stared at the door, before jumping in surprise as the cat weaved his cold body around her frozen legs. She was sitting too far away from the fire, and the warmth had yet to reach her. ‘Well, now that you’re here, perhaps we can begin?’ she smiled, turning her attention back to the book.
They had ridden all day, and Lotta had not spoken more than a few mumbled words. She was busy trying to find answers; ways she could lead Magnus to her.
Ways she could reach out to her mother.
It occurred to Lotta late in the afternoon, that her mother might be dead and not looking for them at all. Or enslaved by bad men, who would not set her free.
She didn’t know.
It frightened her.
Long Beard stopped speaking, having received so little in return. And Silver Tooth had nothing to say himself. He had started coughing, though it sounded more like a tickle in his throat than the deep, liquid cough Eye Patch had been wracked with before he died.
That frightened Lotta too. She worried that her captors would die in the middle of the forest, leaving her lost and alone. She knew how to light a fire. She could hit a rabbit with a stone, if it was an old, slow sort of rabbit. But she didn’t want to think about having to skin the poor creature and cut it up.
She couldn’t imagine that.
And then there was Magnus, left behind with that horrible family, though Lotta was often unsure which of them truly had it worse.
She felt no safer than Magnus was, and at least he had a chance of escaping, she thought, knowing that she had none. Clover waddled along behind them, tied to Long Beard’s horse, but if she escaped, where would they go?
Where were they at all?
‘Feels like snow. Best we get a fire going early, though I’m not sure what use you’ll be,’ Long Beard grumbled, not liking the look of his friend.
‘It’s just a tickle, I told you,’ Silver Tooth grouched, feeling the pain in his chest when he tried to inhale, which told him that perhaps it was more than just a tickle. ‘I need some ale.’
‘Well, I managed to get that stingy old bitch’s daughter to slip us a few skins, so we’re stocked for the night ahead.’
Silver Tooth’s eyes lit up at the thought of sitting against a tree, fire at his feet, skin in hand. He glanced at Long Beard, wanting him to head off the road, which he did, nattering away to Lotta as he tugged on the reins.
‘Wait till you meet my wife,’ Long Beard smiled. ‘She’s been keeping a chamber for you all these years. Untouched, it is. Just waiting for you.’
Lotta, who had almost been drifting off to sleep, lulled by the rocking motion of Long Beard’s horse, stilled in horror. He ran one hand over her hair, and Lotta jerked forward, away from him.
&n
bsp; Long Beard didn’t appear to notice as he kept talking, almost whispering now, leading them off into the trees.
Agnette was eager to sit down, desperate to take the weight off her swollen feet, which were almost bursting through her old boots. ‘It’s almost warm in here,’ she grinned, leaving Alys’ tray on the small table in the corner. ‘Though, perhaps that’s just me?’ she laughed, stretching out her back. ‘Big as a horse and ready to burst!’
Alys could smell smoked fish, and it reminded her of her grandfather, and she felt a pull towards him that she tempered, not wanting to rush Agnette. She needed to get her onside first. ‘How long do you have to go?’ she asked, pointing to Agnette’s belly.
‘You can’t tell? Being a dreamer?’
Alys smiled, shaking her head. ‘Perhaps, if I looked hard enough, touched you maybe, held something of yours? But there are so many things happening in the fort, it might be impossible to find the answer.’
‘I imagine it would,’ Agnette yawned. ‘I think around a month to go. Eddeth thinks so, though I’m not convinced she knows what she’s talking about.’ She felt worried, not trusting Eddeth at all. ‘I... would be grateful if you did manage to find a moment or two to think about me.’ And leaning forward, Agnette stared into Alys’ eyes, her own blinking now. ‘I feel a little worried.’
Alys was surprised. Agnette seemed so tough, but she could see the fear in her eyes now. ‘I don’t blame you.’ She put the book on the ground, edging her stool closer to Agnette. ‘I’ll do what I can. Do you have something I could take to bed with me? Perhaps not tonight as I... must help Reinar.’
‘Ahhh, Reinar.’ Agnette let her worries recede, more intrigued than anything now. ‘He seems happy to have found you.’
Alys turned her eyes to the fire, promptly deciding that it needed more wood. She stood, heading for the woodpile, hiding her face from Agnette. ‘Well, I can’t say the same.’
Agnette was surprised. ‘No?’
Alys placed a log onto the fire, sparks flying. She wanted to change the subject quickly. She needed to. ‘My life suited me well as it was.’
Agnette snorted. ‘Not sure that’s true looking at the state of your face when you arrived. Though,’ she added, peering at Alys more closely, ‘seems you’ve gone and messed it up again.’
Alys grinned, which hurt. ‘I’m not sure why so many people want to punch me.’
‘Perhaps you should let Tulia show you how to stop them?’
‘I don’t think I could do that.’
‘Well, you might change your mind, and in the meantime, I can get Eddeth to make a salve for that. Likely she’s got something brewing, if she’s still here.’ Agnette frowned suddenly, struggling to push herself up. ‘I haven’t seen her in days.’
Alys was on her feet, hand out for Agnette to grab hold of.
‘I’d best be going. Reinar warned me not to linger. Said I should try not to talk too much when I left your tray.’ She snorted again, her yellow headscarf falling over her eyes as she headed to the door. ‘As if he knows me! I’ll send Bjarni with the salve if I find Eddeth. Not sure my feet can take much more walking today.’
‘Agnette!’
Agnette spun around, surprised by the urgency in Alys’ voice. ‘What is it?’
‘I... need your help. Please. I... have a... secret.’
Agnette, full of curiosity, hurried back to the fire, eyeing the stool with some trepidation, but she wriggled back down onto it anyway. ‘Tell me.’
24
‘We’ve got time,’ Tulia insisted, leaning on the table. She was tired. Though she hadn’t spent her day fighting, she was exhausted from trying to teach the women how to.
‘I agree.’ Reinar sat opposite her. ‘The scouts haven’t come across more than a few of Hakon’s scouts themselves. The Vettels aren’t marching yet.’
‘But they will be soon.’ Sigurd sat next to his brother, eyes on Tulia. He knew she didn’t want to be training the women. He knew she didn’t believe they would be of much use. What she wanted was to show him how hopeless it all was, so he would convince his brother to abandon Ottby.
The hall was oddly quiet; they could all feel it.
Gerda fussed around Stellan, eyes on the doors, wondering when Agnette would return. She scanned the long wooden tables, now missing some familiar faces. She doubted those men were spending the evening keeping their wives company in their cottages. They were drinkers, talkers; they would not be absent without good reason.
Reinar felt his confidence waver like a sapling in a strong breeze. He spun around, seeing his father, reminded of what he’d said; trying to hold on to the flicker of hope he’d felt after it. ‘You’re right, they’ll be marching soon. That boy won’t be able to keep his sword in its scabbard through winter. And lucky for us they’ll be marching through the snow by the look of things.’ He grabbed the ale jug, filling his cup, offering it to Tulia. ‘It’s a desperate man who makes war in the winter. That’s what Father always said.’
‘He did,’ Sigurd agreed. ‘And year after year, Jesper Vettel always did it.’
Reinar laughed. ‘He did! And look at what happened to him. I say that’s a better omen than any imaginary wolf. Look at what Stellan did to Jesper Vettel. Left him on the battlefield, lying beside his head, turning the snow red with his treacherous blood.’
Tulia shivered, hating the sound of fighting in the snow. She straightened up, staring at Sigurd, who was gnawing a fingernail with great intent. ‘You’re certain the snow won’t stop them?’
‘I am,’ Reinar said. ‘Hasn’t before.’
Sigurd nodded. ‘Hakon’s as mad as his father. Mad for the throne. For vengeance too. He’s set his course now. He’s coming for us. Nothing will stop him. Not even a blizzard.’
Reinar grinned. ‘I’d like a blizzard, though. Let it freeze half his army before he gets here!’ He felt a lift, realising that though his men were depleted, they had warmth and shelter aplenty, while Hakon’s men would be shaking in their little tents all night; those who he was generous enough to provide one for, and knowing Hakon’s reputation, it wouldn’t be many. ‘Perhaps we should sacrifice to Vesti? Ask her to bring the snow?’
Sigurd’s smile was as wide as his brother’s, and he knocked his cup into Reinar’s. ‘Yes! Let’s do that!’ And standing quickly, he staggered, still unsteady on his wounded leg.
‘What? Now?’ Tulia had only just started to feel her fingers again.
Reinar jumped to his feet, grabbing his cloak from the bench beside him, throwing it around his massive shoulders. ‘Now!’ And clapping his brother on the back, making him yelp and stagger some more, he headed for the kitchen, out to the storage sheds, wondering which animal’s blood Vesti would be thirstiest for.
‘Seems to me your brother is the wrong man to be sacrificing anything,’ Tulia hissed, not standing. ‘If your gods no longer favour him, why would they listen to his plea? Better you do it, or get someone else to.’
Sigurd peered down at her. He put as little faith in his gods as Tulia put in hers, but they needed luck. And Reinar didn’t have any. ‘I’ll ask Bjarni.’ He turned, catching Bjarni’s eye, inclining his head to the kitchen. ‘Don’t wait for me. It may take some time.’ And blue eyes twinkling, Sigurd scooped up his cloak, hobbling away after his brother.
Tulia watched him go with a frown, quickly looking away from Gerda’s enquiring stare, not wanting to be called on to help with her drooling husband.
Agnette hadn’t blinked in some time. Her eyes were as wide as her mouth, which had dropped open the moment Alys started speaking. ‘But how can I help you?’ she croaked when Alys had finished. ‘What can I possibly do?’
‘This book,’ Alys said, bringing the book up to her knee. ‘It belonged to Reinar’s old dreamer. The one who died here.’
‘Salma.’
Alys nodded. ‘It mentioned the waking nightmare. It talks about dream walking.’
‘Which is?’
‘How you en
ter someone’s dream. Communicate with them.’
‘But can’t you do that anyway?’ Agnette was suddenly freezing, and picking up the iron poker, she prodded the fire, stirring sparks. ‘If you’re a dreamer, can’t you come and go in people’s dreams as you like?’
‘I don’t know, but I certainly can’t. I want to, and sometimes I think I find myself in someone’s dream, but I can’t tell them what I want to say. I can’t get the answers I need.’
Agnette looked worried. ‘And you do need answers, Alys. You need to know where your children are.’
Alys nodded, trying not to cry. ‘I do.’
‘But why not tell Reinar?’
‘No!’ Alys rose off the stool, book in hand. ‘No!’
‘Why? He’s a good man. I know he took you. All of them did.’ Agnette waved a hand at the door, feeling embarrassed. ‘It was wrong, listening to Torvig like that. Reinar’s a lord, he should have followed his own best instincts which weren’t to become a slaver. That was no path to salvation. He shouldn’t have done it. None of them should. But he is a good man. I’ve known him my entire life. We are as close as if we were brother and sister, and I can promise you that.’
‘Agnette, please.’ Alys sat down, insistent. ‘I can feel all of that, I can. And I hear what you’re saying, but I must keep this to myself. We must. I don’t want my children to become weapons. I don’t want to put them in any more danger than they already are.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘If a dreamer is watching Reinar, I don’t want her finding out about my children. I need to find them, to see that they’re taken care of. Please.’
Agnette nodded, not wanting to upset her further, and besides, they were Alys’ children. It wasn’t her place to tell her how best to protect them. ‘Well, I’m not sure how much use I can be.’ She rubbed her belly, feeling ready to pop. ‘Though I would like to try.’