by A. E. Rayne
The horses were unsettled, and the men guarding them looked concerned too. Sometimes they would send one of the boys who helped them care for the horses further into the forest to see what was happening. The warriors guarding the camp did not leave their positions, but Falla could tell they were worried.
Everything sounded so strange.
Eventually, Mother pulled back the tent flap, emerging into the campsite. The air was smoky, windy, the sky a dull-grey above the tree canopy now. ‘I imagine we’ll see them soon,’ she smiled. ‘Running back home with their tails between their legs. Little puppies, all of them!’ She turned around, encouraging Lotta outside. ‘Take a breath of air, my child. Falla will find you something to eat, I’m sure. And then we’ll prepare for the return of our conquering... oh no, that’s right, not quite. Not yet. And not without me!’ And turning away, she waddled back into the tent, letting the flap close after her, eager to get back to her fire.
Falla stared at the blinking girl, who appeared confused but relieved to be away from Mother. Falla didn’t blame her. ‘What do you see? Anything?’
Lotta nodded. ‘Smoke. It’s coming.’
Sigurd had joined Reinar on the low wall. ‘Is the boy an idiot? What’s he been doing all morning? Running in circles? Chasing his tail?’
Hakon’s men had run out of range. Away from the lucky mark.
Their catapults couldn’t hit them now.
The archers they had planted in the forest could, though. There weren’t many, for he couldn’t afford to be without even one. But it was important to get the upper hand early, to create at least the illusion of danger and threat. To not let Hakon see Ottby as merely a series of walls to climb over with ease.
Reinar didn’t plan on making anything easy for the boy who would be king.
‘Looks like he might be.’
‘Well, more luck for us, then. Elin wouldn’t recognise you now, would she? Your luck has surely returned, Brother.’ Sigurd clapped Reinar on the back, handing him a cup of ale. It was freezing as they stood around the glowing brazier, the wind playing havoc with its flames. ‘Might be a storm coming.’
‘Well, that would dampen things a bit,’ Reinar mused, sipping the ale. ‘I’d rather it held off while we have our fun, though. We’re just getting started!’
It felt good to be on top, though they wouldn’t be on top for long. They didn’t have the men. But they did know the fort and the forest, and they knew how to play games with a powerful enemy.
Stellan had taught them that.
And lifting his cup in the air, Reinar called on Thenor to grant them a reprieve from thunder and lightning. ‘Just a while longer,’ he insisted. ‘Just a while longer.’
Hakon and his men were trapped on the field. The smoke pumped towards them from the forest, but to escape it meant turning back to where the flaming wall burned and then they’d be within range of the catapults again.
That gap between smoke and flames was shrinking fast.
Erlan Stari was already regretting his decision to abandon all reason and put his men behind Hakon Vettel’s banner. The man had acted like a boy, placing them all in danger, not just of being humiliated and laughed out of every hall in Alekka, but in real danger of dying on the field where they had fought all those years beside the Vilanders.
Erlan’s choice stuck in his throat, and he couldn’t swallow.
More arrows, piercing the smoke.
Men, gasping and grunting in shock, tumbling to the ground. Screams rising, panic following.
‘This way!’ came a voice. ‘This way!’
Ivan followed the voice, though he didn’t recognise it, and it was quickly lost in another flurry of arrows and shrieking cries of pain. ‘Hakon!’ he screamed, losing sight of his cousin. ‘We need to move! Follow me!’ He bent over, coughing, gagging, trying to breathe. Dropping to the ground, Ivan rubbed his hand on the frosty mud, lifting some of it back to his face, smearing it over his nose, cheeks, and mouth. The cold, moist frost woke him up, helping him to breathe, and he was quickly back on his feet, searching for his cousin, eyes stinging, trying to see.
‘Here! Ivan! Here!’ came Hakon’s voice. ‘Follow us!’
Ivan spun back to where he wanted to go, thinking it the quicker route back to their camp, but he didn’t want to be left behind. In the carnage and chaos Hakon had helped to sow, it would only make things worse if they lost each other now. And so, hands out in front of him, trying to see, Ivan ploughed on through the smoke, following Hakon’s voice.
Reinar’s men, who had been hidden in the forest, wafting smoke from the herb-laced wattle towers they had constructed, left their posts now, slipping through the trees, following after the archers, who had sat in wait all night at Reinar’s command. They were out of arrows now, and there was nothing more they could do to cause trouble. They had to head back to the fort, skirting the field and the enemy, awaiting the next assault.
Ulrick watched Reinar Vilander’s men silently creeping through the smoke.
He did nothing to stop them. They had wreaked havoc, and now they would retreat back to the fort. And he would let them.
For he had other plans.
Mother could see in the flames.
She dipped a finger into the bloody mixture she’d been working on all morning, painting symbols on her hands, sweeping them over the dancing fire.
Burning, burning, dancing fire.
She had been sipping a potion since dawn, and now, the clarity was astonishing. Her mind jumped from one place to the next, revealing everything she needed to see.
Hakon was running, lost in the smoke. That victorious lord, Reinar Vilander, stood gloating on his wall. But not for long. ‘Not for long!’ she hissed at the flames, watching them writhe like angry snakes before her. ‘For once Hakon has been tamed, I will need to step in, wouldn’t you say?’
Mother was never alone. Her sons were always with her, around her. Dark-haired Borg and Rolan; blonde-haired Toki, who had not been her husband’s child. Though her husband had been skilled with an axe, he had also been a fool and had never suspected a thing.
She let those thoughts float away and herself with them.
The girl. Lotta. Blonde-haired little Lotta. Such a pretty thing.
And no idiot, Mother realised. She was no idiot at all.
Looking down, she saw the clump of hair on the ground. Something for later, she smiled. For when Hakon was before her, begging for help.
She would keep that for later.
The smoke smelled strange, Hakon thought, stumbling, tripping over the tangled tree roots marking the path back to camp.
Everything was a mess.
The smoke stung his eyes, clogging his throat. He was struggling to breathe; struggling to see or think as well. Lief was beside him, and sometimes he turned, urging him on, his eyes oddly dark, bigger than Hakon remembered. He hurried along, losing his balance often, arms out. The trees jerked into view, crowding him. He yelped, afraid they were toppling, sawn through, falling on top of him. He heard snapping, cracking, noises so loud he wanted to put his hands over his ears, but he would surely lose his balance then.
‘My lord!’ Lief couldn’t grab Hakon, who kept moving away from him. ‘My lord! This way!’ His ears were ringing, eyes watering, and though Lief knew there was something in the smoke, some herbs burning in it, he couldn’t stop inhaling it.
Men were yelling, but he couldn’t tell where they were. He couldn’t tell whose men they were.
Stopping, he drew his sword, swinging around.
Who was there? Someone.
Someone was going to attack them. Kill Hakon.
He wondered if it was him. He didn’t believe in the boy lord. Didn’t want to follow him at all. He was not the right man to be king; Lief knew that in his heart.
‘Hakon!’ Ivan screamed. ‘Hakon! Where are you?’
Lief blinked, sheathing his sword, needing both hands again, the smoke thickening now, making him dizzy.
&nb
sp; Ivan bumped into him, grabbing Lief’s arms. ‘Where’s my cousin? Where is he?’ His head was spinning. He’d found Hakon, held his arm for a moment, but now he was gone.
‘The smoke!’ Lief rasped, struggling to speak. ‘We have to move!’
Ivan nodded, though he was suddenly looking at more than one Lief. He blinked repeatedly, trying to see clearly. And then Lief was gone.
‘Forward!’
‘Hakon?’ Ivan stumbled onwards, hands trying to part the smoke; panicking now, heart racing. ‘Hakon!’
44
Eddeth had run back to her cottage for a pair of boots, not happy with the ones she’d brought with her. Alys barely noticed she had gone. Agnette was talking to her on one side, Gerda on the other, the hall filled with a heady optimism, mingled with a sense of desperation for more news.
Word about Reinar and Eddeth’s plan with the smoke had raced through the fort, and everyone felt a lift, hearing how Hakon Vettel’s army was in tatters. But there was still much more to go.
So much more.
Suddenly, Agnette gasped, gripping her stomach.
In the press of bodies and the clamour of demanding voices, Alys hadn’t heard the splash of water on the floor, but Agnette had felt it. She gripped Alys’ arm.
Alys turned to her, seeing her clenched jaw and the terror in her eyes. ‘Your baby?’
Agnette nodded.
‘Gerda!’ Alys tried to interrupt her. ‘Stop! Please! Agnette’s child is coming!’
‘What?’ Gerda looked horrified, and slightly irritated. ‘Now? Agnette, surely it’s just something you’ve eaten? Surely it’s not coming now?’
Agnette wanted her baby to come even less than Gerda, and she felt herself panicking, hot all over.
‘I’ll take you back to your chamber. Bjarni!’ Alys spun around, trying to see his familiar thick thatch of blonde hair. ‘Bjarni!’ She pushed herself onto her tiptoes, looking for him, surprised when he emerged from the kitchen, chewing a mouthful of walnuts.
One look at his wife gripping her belly, face contorted with pain, and he swallowed the nuts in a big gulp, hurrying forward.
‘Where’s Eddeth gone?’ Gerda demanded, grabbing a servant who was rushing past. ‘You wait there, my girl.’ She stared at Alys. ‘Eddeth?’
‘She went back to her chamber for some boots.’
Gerda turned back to the servant. ‘You will go and find Eddeth. Drag that woman back here quickly. Do not let her mutter on or wander off! Tell her Agnette needs her!’
Everyone had frozen to the spot, stunned by the terrible timing of Bjarni and Agnette’s child.
‘Let’s get you to your chamber,’ Alys smiled. ‘Eddeth will want to have a look at things, I imagine. Best you’re lying down.’
Agnette nodded, shaking. ‘He can’t come now. Not now.’
Bjarni was by her side, arm around her back, walnut stuck in his throat. ‘It will be some story to tell, won’t it? Born during a battle? Our son!’ He tried to turn feelings of terror into excitement, smiling at his wife with a forced grin, his eyes bright with worry. And coughing, trying to clear his throat, he led her through the crowded hall towards their chamber, following after Alys.
Falla ran to her husband, who emerged through the trees, dark eyes blinking. And relieved to see her, he bent over, coughing, his men slowly filtering in behind him.
‘Why are you back? Is the forest on fire?’
The smoke was certainly drifting, spreading like fog, and it was impossible now to tell where the sky ended, and the smoke began. The smell was overpowering, and Lief knew it wasn’t a simple forest fire.
Needing something to drink, he rushed to the nearest tent, rummaging around on the ground, finding a waterskin. Swigging until the water was gone, he hurried back to his wife, panting, wiping a pale hand over his dark beard. ‘It all went wrong.’
Falla looked horrified. ‘Already?’
Lief shook his head. Her voice sounded so far away. His mouth wouldn’t make the right shapes, and he could barely get his thoughts in a straight line. Throwing the skin to the ground, Lief pulled her to him. ‘We have to move. I have to get you away from the smoke. Don’t breathe!’
‘Lief!’ Ivan stumbled down to the ground beside him, coughing. And grabbing the waterskin, he lifted it to his lips, disappointed to find it empty; his throat felt filled with dust. ‘Where’s Hakon?’ he croaked. ‘I thought he was with you?’
Lief shook his head, coughing some more. ‘We have to keep moving. Move the men away from the smoke!’
‘It will disperse,’ came a steady voice.
And through the clouds of smoke waddled a dark-cloaked Mother, hood over her hair, hanging low. ‘It’s only a little smoke, and that wind is getting stronger. Can’t you feel it? Best thing you can do is stay in one place. Rest, drink what you can find, wait for it to float away.’
Lief wasn’t inclined to believe the old witch, but Ivan grabbed his arm. ‘Gather the men into the camp. Keep them together. Keep them calm. I have to find Hakon!’
Lief nodded reluctantly, clinging to Falla. Ivan was still the head of the army, and he could hardly go against him now. And, he realised, Mother was likely right. His panic was slowing as more and more confused warriors stumbled into the clearing. He knew he needed to keep them in one place now; he didn’t want to lose them before their lord returned.
Lief watched Ivan go, before pushing Falla away. ‘Go and find as many skins as you can. Jugs of water, ale, anything. Cups, bowls. We need water! Send the servants to the stream!’
Ivan heard him as he ran through the trees. Voices raised in panic rang out all around him, and he felt confused, disoriented, not sure if they were his men at all. Sword drawn, he swung around, surprised to see a red stag canter past him, nostrils flaring. Ivan tried to calm his breathing, to focus his mind; not on the smoke, which made him want to vomit, but on finding his cousin.
It would do their chances no good to lose their lord now.
Reinar had left the low wall, leaving Torvig in charge, wanting to see how things were going in the hall. When he got there, he was pleased with the cheers, though he barely showed it, knowing that this was little more than a beginning.
Gerda ran up to him. ‘It’s Agnette! The baby is coming!’
Reinar’s mouth fell open, his eyes scanning the hall, seeing no sign of Bjarni. ‘That’s early.’ He couldn’t see Alys either.
‘Baby?’ Eddeth entered the hall behind him. ‘Oh, well that’s rather inconvenient!’
Gerda pointed her to the chambers at the back of the hall. ‘Hurry and see how she is. Her waters broke all over the floor. I’ve had to have someone clean it up.’
And frowning, Eddeth twitched all over, pushing her way through the hall, disappointed that she was going to be stuck delivering a child instead of helping the dreamer protect the fort.
‘How are things going?’ Gerda led her son over to the table where Stellan’s chair had been placed, wanting her husband to hear what Reinar had to say. Despite it being over a year since Stellan’s seizure, since everything had changed, she kept thinking he would come back. That he could hear what was happening. That somehow, he would be able to help his son. ‘Is it a success?’
‘So far, Mother.’ Reinar was impatient. He hadn’t meant to stay long, and now he’d need to find someone to help Bjarni with the hall. He was going to be distracted for sure. Memories flashed before his eyes of the horrific birth of his own sons, but he quickly shut them away, knowing he couldn’t afford to lose focus. ‘I’ll check on Agnette, then I have to get back to the wall.’ He was surprised when his father moved a hand towards him.
Gerda didn’t notice. Rilda had come out of the kitchen with problems.
Reinar put his hand over Stellan’s, staring into his eyes, watching his lips, but his father didn’t speak, and eventually, Reinar smiled, patting his hand and heading for the bedchambers.
Alys crashed into him as he rounded the corner. ‘Oh! I’m sorry!’
Stepping back, Reinar blinked at her. ‘How’s Agnette?’
‘Eddeth’s just arrived, so I don’t know, but she seems a little worried. It’s not the best time, is it?’
Reinar peered at Alys, who stood beside a flaming sconce. ‘What are you wearing?’ She looked strange in the black cloak. It was too big for her, touching the floor.
‘I found it. I think it was your old dreamer’s.’
‘Really?’ Reinar had never seen Salma wear such a thing. ‘Where are you going now?’ She was standing so close, and the way the flames lit her hair reminded him of the first moment he’d seen her on board Sigurd’s ship. And he felt guilt for capturing her, and guilt for desiring her. And ignoring both, he leaned in and kissed her.
Alys froze in surprise, Reinar’s lips on hers, not kissing him back at all.
And noticing it, Reinar pulled away with a sad smile. ‘I’m sorry.’ He shook his head, turning down the corridor.
Alys’ mouth hung open, the feel of his bristly lips still on hers.
Closing it, she walked towards the hall, feeling her heart skipping wildly in her chest, trying to remember what she’d been about to do.
Hakon didn’t know what to do.
Voices taunted him: his father’s, Ivan’s, Mother’s.
They danced around him like little children, keeping him trapped where he was, not knowing which way to turn. He was in the forest, dressed in his armour, smoke in his mouth, smoke in his eyes. They stung and burned. As did his throat. He thought he heard a stream somewhere, Mother’s voice cackling like crows, but he couldn’t move. Shivering and shaking, he sank to the ground, pressing his back against a tree, bark against mail, boots scuffing the moss-covered roots as he dragged them closer to his body, wrapping his arms around his legs, head down.