by A. J. Smith
‘How far is Tiergarten?’ she asked Beirand, looking up into his bearded face. ‘I mean, how long will it take an army to get there?’
‘Shut up,’ he replied. ‘Just be silent and I won’t have to slap you.’
She turned to look up into a different bearded face.
‘How far is Tiergarten?’ she asked another man. ‘Beirand won’t tell me. I just like knowing things. It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me. I’ll find out.’
She was led past cold fire-pits and empty feast tables, to the raised chair at the far end. Red banners with the bear claw of Jarvik hung from the rafters. It was a dirty red, stained and faded. Patches of it were mottled and the black woven claws were frayed and split. She preferred the crying dragon of Teardrop. It was dark blue and made her smile. When she was small she had had the image on her blanket. Her father said the dragon was sad because men still killed each other, and it was a creature of peace.
Raucous laughter cut the cold air. From the rooms beyond the chair – Ingrid’s former home – Rulag Ursa swilled greedily from a brass tankard and guffawed at some joke or other. The men with him sat round a circular table and joined in the laughter. They didn’t see Ingrid approach. A Karesian man was also sitting at the table. He wasn’t laughing or drinking and was slim and delicate compared to the Ranen warriors.
‘My lord Bear Tamer,’ said Beirand.
The lord of Jarvik stopped laughing. His piercing green eyes turned to them. His shoulders were huge and his matted brown hair fell in tangles down his back. Frothy beer ran through his beard and he spat on the floor as they approached him.
They all looked at Ingrid. Six men of Jarvik, bulky from bear-skin and chain mail, were silent.
‘How far is Tiergarten?’ she blurted out.
Still silent, their dark eyes narrowed. Some chewed on meat or swallowed their mouthfuls of beer. Under their meal was a canvas map of Fjorlan with Tiergarten marked in red. It didn’t look to be far from Fredericksand.
The Karesian man studied her. She didn’t recognize him and didn’t know why he was here.
‘No-one will tell me,’ she said nervously. ‘I don’t see what harm it could do.’
Rulag stood and looked down at her. ‘You’ve not learned to keep your mouth shut, I see. Perhaps I should have told Beirand to keep hitting you. Knock out a few teeth and mess up your face.’
She raised her eyebrows at him and imagined stamping on his foot and kneeing him in the face. ‘You killed my father,’ she murmured.
‘What? Speak up, ya little shit,’ barked the betrayer.
‘You killed my father, you fat bastard,’ she shouted.
Rulag struck her, the back of his hand connecting with her jaw. The other men laughed. The Karesian rose from his seat, as if to help her, but was waved away by Rulag.
Hate and embarrassment filled her thoughts. She wished she was taller and stronger. She wished she had an axe and the skill to swing it. She wished that Alahan would burst through the door with Wulfrick and a hundred men. She cried, ‘Alahan is going to kill you. He’s tougher than you, cleverer than you... thinner than you.’
‘Pick her up, Beirand,’ said Rulag.
The axe-man grabbed her arms and hefted her upwards.
‘Your brother is not going to kill me. He’s going to die.’
He towered above her, massive and wide, his eyes showing waves of hatred. He hated her family, her brother, her father, her legacy. He hated everything about her, especially her name.
‘My lord, she is only a child,’ said the Karesian, still standing. ‘She is no threat to your cause. And women should not be treated so.’
Rulag guffawed, turning away from Ingrid. ‘You men of the sun don’t know how to treat women. Fjorlan is a man’s world.’
‘Fjorlan is a primitive world,’ the Karesian corrected him. ‘The Mistress of Pain would not like you mistreating this girl.’
The foreigner didn’t flinch as Rulag’s captains glared at him. He was smaller than all of them, and dressed in a thick, black cloak, though he wore two nasty-looking blades in his belt.
‘Saara didn’t send you to be a fucking adviser, she sent you to deliver the trees,’ replied Rulag, showing his back to Ingrid.
If only she had a knife or something sharp. She knew there was a target in the thigh. Alahan had told her to aim for the groin and twist the blade. But she didn’t have a blade, just a sore face, wet with tears.
The Karesian strolled round the feast table, stepping past Rulag and approaching Ingrid. He produced a small, red handkerchief and extended it towards her.
‘Dry your face, girl. If you do, one day, see your brother die, you should greet it with fortitude, not tears.’
She took the handkerchief. ‘Who are you?’
‘My name is Kal Varaz. I am a wind claw of Karesia and I was sent by my mistress to help kill your brother and overwhelm Tiergarten. But I do not raise my hands to women.’
‘What?’ She threw the handkerchief back at him and stepped away.
Kal Varaz slowly bent down and retrieved the square of red fabric. He was maddeningly calm and his eyes showed no emotion. Al Hasim was the only other Karesian she’d ever met, and he’d been funny, friendly and frequently drunk. Kal Varaz was, so far, the complete opposite.
‘My lord Rulag, can we proceed, now that you have exerted your dominance over this girl?’
‘We’ll go when I’m good and ready,’ replied Rulag. ‘I haven’t told young Ingrid the happy news. I planned for you to marry my son when this was over, girl. Consume your name like a mouthful of meat. But he was too weak. So, you will have the honour of marrying me.’
***
Ingrid was given an hour to gather some belongings. She had been staying in a small room, well away from the main hall, where Rulag didn’t have to look at his future bride. She was allowed some clothes and a few pairs of shoes, but little else. An old bracelet, a thick winter coat and a pouch of pretty stones. The stones had been found along the fjords and were a collection from when she was small. They made her smile and reminded her of peace and happiness.
She’d already packed her rucksack and was using the extra time to sit and look out of a window. The sky was pale blue, and the mountains cut across her field of vision as a zigzag line. The world seemed bigger. All of a sudden, everything was huge and complicated, when before it had been small and simple. Or maybe she’d just been a silly child and now she’d grown up.
Birds fluttered past the window, beating their wings in shallow sweeps and soaring towards the sea. They sang and played in the air, unconcerned by the problems of men and girls. It would be nice to be a bird. She remembered stories her father used to tell her about Brytag, the god of luck and wisdom. She hadn’t really understood about gods and had preferred the stories about Corvus the Crow, a mischievous character from a book she loved. He was always getting into trouble and wriggling his way free. She had empathized with his adventures, even going so far as to pretend to be a crow when she was alone. But that was long ago.
She went to the window and crossed her arms on the sill, gazing into the pale blue of the sky.
Caw
‘Go and fly,’ she said to the large, black bird. ‘I’d fly if I could. I wouldn’t be sitting on a girl’s window sill. The sky is massive and endless. It doesn’t have walls or doors. You can never be a prisoner in the sky.’
Caw
‘You’re a really big bird.’ It looked at her, its yellow beak bobbing from side to side. ‘And you’re very friendly.’ She didn’t know much about birds, but it was inches from her face, and that didn’t seem normal.
Caw
‘Okay, okay, stop squawking at me.’ She took a step away, thinking the beak looked rather sharp and pointy. Though strangely she knew the bird wouldn’t peck her.
The bird hopped forward and landed on her shoulder. It was heavier than it looked but she was too stunned to move. The wings flapped gently next to her head, the feathers soft against h
er skin. The jewels of black that were its eyes were deeper and more textured when viewed from close up and they peered at her, while the yellow beak continued bobbing up and down.
‘Hello,’ she said through quivering lips. ‘I’m Ingrid... Ingrid Teardrop... Do you have a name?’ She knew it was a stupid question, but she asked it anyway. ‘We can be friends if you like... lots of my friends are dead. I wish I could fly like you, though.’
She raised a shaking hand and encouraged the bird from her shoulder. It paused and flapped on to her forearm, nearly taking an ungainly tumble to the stone floor.
‘Corvus,’ she said. ‘You can be called Corvus. Do you want to come to Tiergarten with me? Otherwise I may die from the stench of hairy old men. You don’t smell... and you’re not fat.’
Caw
Her smile widened as she stroked under his hooked yellow beak. He juddered in enjoyment, fluffing his wings and giving an endearing chirp. Used to the weight now, she sat back down on her bed, inspecting the friendly bird. His grip was soft and his movements gentle, as if he didn’t want to hurt her. His talons were large and looked cruel, but they merely padded tenderly on her forearm.
‘You can’t travel with me though... I fear they’d hurt you.’ Her smile became broader. ‘But you can fly.’
He flared his wings, appearing to double in size. Ingrid gasped, but didn’t stop smiling. She liked Corvus, and was glad to have a friend again.
A sharp bang on the door. ‘Wolf bitch – hurry the fuck up,’ said Beirand, coughing between words. ‘It’s not getting any warmer outside.’
She puffed out her cheeks and lost her smile. Corvus pecked gently at her cheek, making a low murmur, but her smile wasn’t coming back.
‘I need to go,’ she whispered to the raven. ‘But I’ll see you soon. We’ll have to camp. I could sneak out and we could go and cause mischief.’
‘You there?’ grunted Beirand.
‘Unfortunately,’ she replied. ‘No-one’s come to rescue me yet.’
‘You’re funny,’ he replied. ‘Hurry up.’
As she left the room, hoping that she’d find a way to escape her captors, Ingrid thought of Alahan. She loved her brother and, as long as he was alive, she knew he’d never stop fighting. She hoped he was alive. Please be alive, she thought.
***
Leaving the city took no time at all. The warriors of Ursa flowed out of Fredericksand like a snake of steel, spreading out along the north–south road, with the Fjorlan coast on their right side. Sled-loads of planking and equipment followed, to be assembled into engines of war when they drew closer to Tiergarten, accompanied by the yelp of huskies marking their passage. Ingrid was kept in the middle of the army, far from anything she could break or steal. She thought about tripping up a few battle brothers, but Beirand never took his eyes from her.
She was teased about her upcoming wedding. Much of it was crude and made her feel sick. Luckily, Rulag would not wed her until Alahan was dead, and Ingrid still had faith in her brother. By the time they stopped for the first night, she’d taken to picturing his face as armour against their nasty comments.
‘I feel helpless, Corvus,’ she said once, when she was finally alone in a small tent, feeding worms to her new friend. ‘I’m not as strong as Halla Summer Wolf. Maybe I will be one day, but what can I do now? I’m just a little girl.’
Caw
She smiled and sat up on her bedroll. She knew he wasn’t just a raven and he made her feel confident, as if nothing could touch her with him as a companion.
‘Are you Brytag?’
He tilted his beak and gave his long wings a gentle flutter.
‘If you are, can you help me kill Rulag?’
She didn’t really want an answer. She just wanted a friend.
Suddenly he leapt from her side and flew through the tent flaps. She gasped as a dozen men swore at the huge, black bird, but none of them could throw an axe quickly enough to hit him. The flaps billowed in the raven’s wake and Ingrid glimpsed a handful of men, roused from round a campfire. None of them looked at her and on an impulse she took a deep breath, stood up and went out into the open. She stood outside the tent for a moment, looking carefully at her captors. The men obviously couldn’t see her; they simply carried on drinking.
Caw
The raven circled in the crisp night sky, his cheerful squawk marking his flight. He had obscured Ingrid from those who would cage her and she grinned broadly, feeling free for the first time since her father died. With a spring in her step, she strolled away from her tent and moved forward, along the rugged coast, through the ranks of Rulag’s army. No-one looked at her, but she still had to stay alert to keep from bumping into drunken men. They rolled around the camp, between fires and tents and smithies, spinning tales of the new Fjorlan and the new era of strength. They didn’t speak of Rowanoco, as if he was no longer in their hearts. This made Ingrid cross. It made Corvus cross as well. The Ice Giant stood for strength, honour and freedom, but these men disagreed.
At the southern edge of the camp, protected from the wind and the ocean spray by the gullies of the Crystal Fork River, she found the biggest tents. They were made of thick canvas and secured by black metal spikes, with the red bear claw of Ursa prominent on every piece of fabric. Still no-one looked at her. She didn’t feel invisible, just... difficult to see, as if she walked in the shadows of the world, just out of sight. As long as her footsteps were light and her movements slow, she could remain obscured from normal eyes.
The largest tent smelled of meat and ale. It was well-guarded by men with glaives and Corvus had settled upon its high frame. She walked round the tent, looking for a good vantage point, and found a small gap in the fabric through which she could squeeze. Ingrid found herself amidst barrels of ale and sides of salted meat in the outer section of the tent. Deeper inside she could hear men talking.
‘And the Green Men? They’ve been hiding in Tiergarten for months.’ The speaker was Harrod. ‘Halfdan has a few hundred men hidden.’
‘They can keep hiding,’ replied Rulag. ‘If old man Green wants to be thain of Tiergarten when all this is over he’ll do what he’s bloody told. That means killing Alahan when I say so and not before.’
Ingrid bit her lip, trying not to gasp in alarm and reveal her hiding place.
‘He’s had his instructions,’ continued Rulag. ‘When we’re close enough that he can see the fires, he gets those loathsome children of his to cut up young Teardrop. Preferably in his sleep. It’s what the Karesian witch wants and I’m happy to oblige.’
She skulked down at the base of the fabric, getting as close to the speakers as she could.
‘Will they fight once he’s dead?’ asked another man.
‘Probably. The Mistress of Pain assures me that her Dark Young will stifle any attempt at a long campaign. She says to birth them, unleash them, and watch the walls of Tiergarten melt away. Kal Varaz has already sent three of them ahead. I saw the bloody things. From a distance, but that was bad enough.’
‘You trust the enchantress?’ asked Harrod.
‘No, but I trust that she wants Teardrop dead as much as we do. It serves our purposes to ally with her for now. Just don’t tell Kal Varaz anything about our plans. We can’t be sure he doesn’t have a way of talking to his mistress. If the trees prove less than promised, I’ll kill the Karesian bastard myself.’
‘And her god?’ queried another man. ‘I don’t fancy worshipping a tree.’
‘We don’t need to,’ said Harrod dismissively. ‘Once Fjorlan is under heel, we’ll make a peace with her Twisted Tree. She can have Tor Funweir and Karesia, we’ll have the Freelands and Fjorlan. We don’t need her god or Rowanoco.’
Rulag let out a deep belly laugh. ‘We’ll prune the weak and slice up the lands of men. In time, I’ll be high thain of all Ranen. Then the Ice Giant will pay attention. Honour and freedom be damned – strength is all that will be left. We will remake this land and remake our god.’
‘So
, Alahan Teardrop gets his throat cut,’ said Harrod gleefully, ‘then the trees breach the walls, then we attack. There might not be much left, but we won’t waste any of our men.’
‘And One Eye the axe-woman?’ asked Rulag. ‘What word of her?’
‘No word,’ was the quiet reply. ‘Grammah Black Eyes has been silent for weeks. Either he’s lost his cloud-stone or Halla’s got more men than we think. If she took the Bear’s Mouth—’
‘She’ll be on her way to Tiergarten,’ interrupted Rulag. ‘No matter, the Green Men will welcome her home properly.’
Ingrid smiled. Halla was still alive. She was almost as strong as Alahan. With the two of them defending the city, nothing could defeat them. Her smile turned to a frown as she realized she was being a silly girl. It still pleased her to imagine that her brother and Halla were unbeatable, and a few years ago she might even have believed it, but she now knew how fragile life was. How a blade in the dark or a well-planned attack could fell the mightiest warrior.
She backed out of the tent, muttering to herself. ‘What can I do to help? What do they need? Maybe time? How can I give them time?’
Corvus left the command tent and glided away, over her head. He was silent, drawing no eyes upwards but hers, and made his way to the edge of the army. She followed his flight, feeling tears dampen her cheeks. She still had her friend and she still couldn’t be seen, but hearing the bastard of Ursa speak had made everything worse.
Beyond the command tents was the vanguard of the army, a closely packed group of tents, housing the best and soberest fighters. They were the ones who protected the sleds and gathered the gangs of dogs. Hundreds of grey and white huskies, tethered to metal stakes, slept in the low ground where the breaking waves of the Fjorlan Sea could not reach. They yawned and stretched, emitting yelps and barks. They were essential to the swift movement of Rulag’s army, pulling his tents, supplies, weapons and siege equipment.