by Jenny McKane
“Now.” He smiled brilliantly at Everard. “Perhaps you and your sister would care to accompany me to my home? We can talk in private, and I can even offer you a hearty breakfast.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Everard. “We would be most grateful for your assistance.”
“Get dressed then,” the man boomed. “I will meet you downstairs.” He swept out of the room, the other men trailing behind him.
Avalon stared at Everard, and he stared back. That had been way too close.
Chapter Five
Naved Escolen spat something onto the floor, wiping his mouth. Avalon stared at him, shuddering in distaste. Obviously, table manners meant little in the Far North.
They had followed the mayor to his home, which had turned out to be the richest in the village. It was built on higher ground and overlooked the roads of poor huts.
A serving woman poured them drinks and brought in dish after dish, laying them on the huge wooden table. Avalon tried to eat, but found she had little appetite. After their close call this morning, she was still trembling. And she found the food in this region strange—dense and highly salted.
“Now.” The large man sat back in his chair, throwing his napkin onto the table. He smiled at them. “Once again, I apologize for what happened this morning. The people are wary of strangers.”
“We noticed,” said Everard.
Escolen laughed. “Yes! It is like that in the Far North. Settlements are spread out, and the people do not travel far. We rarely get travelers. You two are the talk of the village. As soon as I got back last night, I was informed of your arrival.”
Everard smiled at the man. “We thank you,” he said, indicating the table. “Your hospitality is generous.”
Escolen picked up his drink, draining it in one gulp. “It was the least I could do,” he said. “I do not want Blaimri to get a reputation as a hostile outpost.” He turned to Avalon, studying her carefully. “You say your sister has not been well blessed, friend?”
Everard sighed. “She cannot talk and understands little,” he replied. “But I am sworn to protect her. She is the only family that I have left – other than our uncle, whom we are seeking.”
“Ah. Your uncle.” Escolen gazed at Everard. “You think that he might live in this district?”
“I do not know for sure,” Everard said. “The only information our dear mother gave us before she left this world was that he lived in the Far North. So, we are going from village to village and asking.”
“His name?”
“Vagn Keld.” Everard picked up his drink. “He was a farmer in the south. But he could be doing anything here, of course. Have you heard of him?”
Escolen considered. “I have never heard of a Vagn Keld,” he replied slowly. “Although I do know that there is a family with the name Keld, but they live very far from here – high into the mountains, almost to the Outlying Zone. It is harsh there.”
“Who is this family?” Everard asked.
“I do not know,” Escolen replied. “Once, when I had to trade up there, I heard talk of a man with the name of Keld, who lived close to the border. He would come down to trade, but mostly kept to himself.” He frowned, thinking. “He had a wife and daughter, if my memory serves me well, but I took little notice.”
“That could be him,” Everard said, pretending to be excited. “We must travel there.”
Escolen laughed slowly. “It is heading into the Long Cold,” he said. “The terrain is steep, and the weather will only get worse. You are from the south and unused to such conditions. I would advise that you wait until the thaw.”
“We cannot wait,” said Everard. “My sister is weary, and if there is a chance that this man is our uncle, we should go straight away.”
Escolen raised his bushy eyebrows. “She would not survive the journey,” he said. “You would put the life of your sister at risk to seek out this man, who may or may not be the uncle you seek?”
“We must,” said Everard. “Can you advise us of the conditions?”
Escolen belched. Avalon tried not to shoot him a look of distaste.
“Steep. Treacherous.” Escolen eyed Everard as he spoke. “But it is not only the terrain and the weather, my friend. You would be heading into hostile territory.”
“Hostile?” Everard stared at him. “In what way?”
Escolen sighed. “You know nothing of our district,” he said. “Up here, there are rebels everywhere. They challenge the rule of the Jarle and desire that Agnor himself be overthrown.” He glanced sideways at Everard, assessing his reaction. “Insurrection, my friend. If you travel in this area, I cannot guarantee your safety.”
“I have heard of such rebellion,” Everard said carefully. “They talk of it in the south. They speak of a man named Gwalen, who is the leader.”
Escolen stilled. “Word travels far,” he said. “Yes, Gwalen is their leader. It is not his real name, of course.”
“Do you know what it is?” Everard asked casually, picking up a piece of bread and tearing it apart.
“No one knows that, my friend,” answered Escolen. “Except the rebels themselves, and they are not speaking.” He eyed Everard. “You are not sympathetic to the rebel cause?”
“Oh, no,” said Everard, widening his eyes. “My sister and I are devout to Agnor. Hail him!”
“Hail Agnor,” Escolen said, but he didn’t take his eyes off Everard. “Be careful of asking too many questions then, my friend. Some may not want you to find the answers, and they may wonder why you are so interested.”
Avalon felt sweat breaking out on her neck. She looked down at the table. The silence stretched on, taut as an arrow’s bow.
“I am sorry,” said Everard, smiling widely. “I am not used to the ways of the Far North. In the south, it is acceptable to ask questions, within reason.”
“Northerners are wary, as I said.” Escolen looked from Everard to Avalon. “Your sister is a beautiful woman, friend. I would not pick her as a Stromel. She has the look of a high-born Jarle lady.”
“Yes,” said Everard. “People often say that! Perhaps she was blessed with beauty, to balance her deficiencies in other areas.” He laughed, and Escolen slowly laughed with him.
“What is her bride price?” Escolen asked, casually.
Avalon froze. There was a long pause.
“My sister cannot marry,” said Everard. “She could not run a household or do any but the simplest work. My mother made me swear that I would never bargain her into marriage, just before she died.”
Escolen nodded. “She must be a burden on you in some ways.” He kept staring at Avalon.
Everard shrugged. “I am used to it. She is a simple soul and very good natured.”
“We all have our sorrows in life,” Escolen said. He stared at Everard. “If I cannot dissuade you from travelling further into the High Area, let me provide you with a guide at least. Someone who knows the area well.” He paused. “The area is a rebel hotspot, as I said, and a guide could help you navigate it. Gwalen himself is rumored to be up there.”
“We like to travel by ourselves,” Everard replied. “We have provisions for the weather. But thank you, Mayor Escolen, for the offer. It is much appreciated.”
Escolen spread his hands wide. “I would advise you against it,” he said. “But if you are determined, then so be it! I wish you and your sister well, and hope you find your uncle.”
Everard stood up. “Thank you. I shall always remember your help.” He turned to Avalon. “Iselin, we must leave.”
Avalon stood up.
“Travel well, my friend.” Escolen held out his hand, and Everard shook it.
Escolen turned to Avalon. “A pity,” he said, rubbing his beard. “I know many men in the district who would take her off your hands, simple or not.”
Everard laughed. “Iselin is not for negotiation,” he said. “But thank you.”
They turned and left, walking out the door and down into the village.
Escolen walked
to the window, watching them descend the path. He stroked his beard, thinking. Then he called the servant. “Find Brunn. Bring him to me.” The servant nodded, then scurried away.
He turned back to the window. There was something not quite right about the man and his sister. The man had claimed that his sister understood nothing, but Escolen had sensed her reaction to certain things when he spoke. As if she was stopping herself from speaking. Her dark eyes were watchful, too, and flashed with intelligence. He did not think for one moment that she was the simple soul her brother claimed.
They were pretending. But for what purpose? The man spoke with a Stromel dialect that he recognized was from the Lowlands, and he seemed to know his home well. But he seemed a little too keen to know about the rebels.
He turned away from the window, just as the man with the brown beard, who had held the sword to Avalon’s throat that morning, walked into the room.
“They’ve gone?”
Escolen nodded. “Searching for their long-lost uncle, supposedly,” he said.
He turned to Brunn. “I want you to follow them. They are heading into the High Area. Don’t make yourself known, obviously. I want to know what they do, and if they seek out this man named Keld when they get there.”
“And if they don’t?” Brunn stared at him.
Escolen smiled, slowly. “If they detour, or wander into places they shouldn’t, you know what to do.”
Brunn nodded, then walked away.
***
It was bitterly cold as they climbed the rough mountain track. The snow fall had intensified. Avalon stumbled, a little, before finding her footing again. She watched Everard, just ahead of her, putting one foot in front of the other in a determined way. He seemed to be a natural in this terrain.
They stopped on a ledge, looking back over the land they had just traversed. Everard reached into his bag, pulling out the water flagon. He offered it to Avalon, who drank greedily. It was hard work, walking these tracks. Escolen had been right.
“Do you think he suspected?” she said, passing the flagon back to him.
Everard took a long drink before answering her. “Escolen? Definitely. He is involved in some way. If he is not active in the rebellion, he is at least sympathetic. We will be watched.”
Avalon nodded. She had sensed that herself. Escolen had stared at her a little too openly, and he seemed to be watching her, to see if she would react. She had little doubt that someone would be following them, monitoring their movements.
“We should probably not talk too much,” she said. “From now on.”
“I was thinking the same,” Everard said. He looked over the terrain. “This is rough going, Avalon. I am hoping that this snow doesn’t turn into a blizzard.”
“So do I,” she answered. “But you seem able to cope with it, better than me, at any rate.”
He glanced at her. “I have been into the mountains before,” he said. “A long time ago, but I am familiar with the terrain and how to walk it.”
“When?”
He smiled. “As a child. My father used to bring me here. He enjoyed mountaineering.”
Avalon stared at him. “You are lucky,” she said. “My family never went anywhere outside the city.” She hesitated, looking over the landscape. “This is the first time I have left the city boundaries.”
Everard stared at her. “You are joking, surely?”
Avalon shook her head. “My father is a busy man,” she said, a little bitterly. “He is always at work. And my mother is hardly the type to spend time traversing the countryside. She wouldn’t be able to shop now, would she?”
Everard looked down. “It must have been hard.” He looked up at her quickly. “I am sorry, Avalon, about what I said, back at the Academy. You were right – I know nothing about your life, only how it appears on the outside. I just assumed you were the spoilt daughter of a powerful man. I see now that I was wrong.”
Avalon gazed back at him. Their eyes met and locked in a moment that seemed to stretch on forever.
“I feel at home, somehow, out here,” she whispered. “In a way that I have never felt at home in the city. It is like I recognize it.” She laughed, a little self-consciously. “It sounds silly, I know.”
“No, it doesn’t,” said Everard.
He reached out towards her suddenly, grabbing a stray dark strand of hair that had escaped from underneath her veil and tucking it back into place.
“Stromel women never have a hair out of place,” he whispered.
Avalon felt her breath leave her quite suddenly. She turned quickly and looked up the path that they still had to climb.
“We better keep moving,” she said, trying to keep her voice even.
Everard nodded, watching her walk ahead. She didn’t look back. He paused for a moment, then followed her.
Avalon Lund was a mass of contradictions. He thought he had her pegged, and now…now, he wasn’t so sure. Sometimes, he glimpsed her vulnerable side, beneath the bravado and the walls that she had constructed around her. The warrior walls, he thought, ruefully.
And Escolen had been right. She was beautiful.
***
The storm had blown itself out, and a bright blue sky had emerged. They had reached higher ground, which had levelled out. Avalon stared into the distance, frowning slightly. There seemed to be a sudden difference in the terrain. Where they stood, it was rocky and snow covered, but she could clearly see that over a mile away the ground was green and trees covered the land, their leaves blowing softly. Even the color of the sky over it looked different.
Everard followed her gaze. “It is the Outlying Zone,” he said.
Avalon started walking towards it, but Everard reached out a hand, stopping her.
“You know the rules,” he said quietly. “We must not approach the Outlying Zone. It is forbidden.”
Avalon nodded, sighing. “It just looks so interesting,” she said. Then she turned back to Everard reluctantly. “But you are right, of course. We need to keep moving.” But her gaze lingered on the area.
Suddenly, she saw a small dark figure in the sky over the Outlying Zone. It was so far away, she couldn’t make out any details. She shivered. The creature from her dream suddenly appeared in her mind, rearing up towards her.
“Avalon?” Everard was frowning. “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” she answered faintly. “Of course. Let’s keep moving.”
Avalon turned her head away. She wouldn’t look at it anymore. The rules were clear, as Everard had said, but it was like an irresistible pull on her mind, and she had to forcibly stop her eyes from gazing back at it.
She thought of what he had told her about the Stromel and their stories of strange creatures. Magic. She shivered again. She shouldn’t be thinking about it; even thinking was treason. Resolutely, she turned to Everard.
“Tell me about your life,” she said, trying to distract herself. “Back home.”
Everard stiffened. “Not much to tell,” he said shortly. “Nothing much goes on in the village that I come from.”
Avalon studied his face. “Nothing?”
He shook his head. “It is a village like any other,” he said.
“What of your family?” she asked.
He didn’t speak. Looking to the sky, he frowned. “It is getting late. We have to find shelter for the night soon.” He trudged ahead, leaving her behind.
Avalon watched him. Why wouldn’t Everard speak of his home? There were moments when she almost felt close to him, so close. She forgot her anger at him, the way that he riled her, but then he would revert to his former self.
Closed. Arrogant. A stranger.
She quickened her steps, trying to keep up with him. A strange whizzing sounded over her head, and she barely had time to react. It was an arrow. They were under attack!
She ran toward a large rock and sought shelter. More arrows whizzed past. She saw Everard running in a crouched stance in the other direction. Then she lost sight of
him.
An arrow grazed her shoulder, so close she could almost feel the point on her flesh. She was too exposed, here. She turned, seeing the forest ahead of her. Trees. Without thinking, she ran towards it.
She was almost there. As she leapt from the snow and rocks onto the green grass, a buzzing sounded all around her. It seemed to enter her skin, causing pain to ripple through her. She flailed wildly.
And then, she was on the other side. She had entered the Outlying Zone.
She ran blindly, weaving through the trees. She shouldn’t be here, but what choice did she have? If she had stayed where she was, she would be dead by now. It was that simple.
Her breath came in ragged bursts. Where was Everard? Had he been hit by an arrow, and now lying dead or injured on the other side? She couldn’t think of it now. She had to get safe.
She saw a hollow in a large tree. It was big enough for her to crawl inside, and it would keep her hidden.
It smelt of moss and old earth. She pressed herself back further into the hollow, curling up. Then, she collapsed. Her skin still tingled from when she had leapt through into this place. It was like her skin was on fire. She could feel the hairs on her arms standing up.
Why was it? Why had it hurt her, to pass into this place?
Her breath started to slow down. Thankfully, she had thrown her bag onto her back when she had first started running. She eased it off now, and then she opened it. There was some food and a small amount of water, but that was not what she was interested in.
She groped around, on the bottom of the bag, until her hand closed over what she sought. Her dagger. Her one weapon. She had been unable to bring her sword with her, as no Stromel woman had one. Everard had carried one though. He told her it was perfectly acceptable for a travelling Stromel man to have a sword for protection, although they were forbidden to have them normally.
Everard. Where was he?
She couldn’t afford to think about him. He was trained, just as she was. He would have sought safety, and be lying low, just the same as she was. He could take care of himself. They would find each other.
She just had to figure out a way.
The tingling started to subside, just a little. And then, her muscles started to ache. She had hit her right ankle against a rock when she had been running. She slowly twisted it, glad to see that even though it hurt her, she could still do it. It wasn’t a bad strain.