by A. E. Rayne
More men came out of the trees, horses blowing.
Five of them.
Alys tugged on the reins, Haski pawing the ground, panting as she tried to think, eyes darting left and right, body humming.
The men had Stina and Eddeth, but she could still escape. She was far enough away from them, and Haski was young and spritely, with an appetite for speed. Her body shook with cold and fear, indecision enclosing her like fog.
‘Go!’ Eddeth bellowed, elbowing the shaven-headed man, who had wrapped an arm around her chest. ‘Ride, Alys! Ride!’
Stina joined in as her captor snatched the reins from her grasp, pulling her mare to a stop. ‘Ride, Alys!’ Her grey eyes were pleading, urging her friend to get away.
But Alys dropped her shoulders in defeat, loosening her hold on the reins, watching as the men dismounted, running towards her.
3
Slussfall.
Jonas sighed, tension creeping up his back, squeezing his shoulder blades.
It wasn’t going to be easy, he thought, staring up at the towering wooden gates of the old fortress. It had been years since they’d last visited the place. Years since Sirrus Ahlmann had been overthrown, and the Vettels had taken control. And though it was a dull day, and his eyesight had deteriorated, he wondered if the round shapes hanging from the gates were heads.
Knowing the Vettels’ reputation, likely they were.
‘What do we think?’ Vik grinned beside him. His fur cloak was white with snow, hood pulled low. He felt tired and cold, but up for the challenge.
Jonas didn’t. ‘I think we need to think.’
Magnus was impatient, jiggling on his pony. ‘But why don’t we just go in?’ His nose had stopped dripping some time ago. Now it was completely frozen. As much as he was desperate to find his sister, he was also eager to get to a fire. The fortress looked enormous. He could see smoke rising from its old stone walls, bleeding into one big murky cloud, sinking low.
‘They might recognise us, Magnus.’ As much as Vik wanted to thaw his frozen toes by some crackling flames, he knew what had Jonas feeling oddly anxious. ‘We fought beside the Slussfall men for years. Their old lord was one of our friends. Hakon Vettel took his fort and killed him. And he had some help. Men betrayed Sirrus. Likely they’re still in there. And those men will know our faces.’
Magnus shivered. ‘But how will we get inside, then?’ Daisy seemed as impatient as he felt, prancing forward, wanting something more to eat than snowy dirt. She lifted her nose, sniffing, as Magnus gathered the reins, pulling her to a stop.
‘Good question,’ Jonas mumbled. He was thinking about Lotta, wondering if she was inside those walls. They hadn’t seen any sign of her or her captors on their long and slow journey from Akaby to Slussfall – not a single hint of the men – though the weather had continued to deteriorate as they climbed north, hiding any signs they might have left behind beneath fresh piles of snow.
‘Let’s duck back into the forest,’ Vik suggested. ‘Think it through. I’ll get a fire going, warm us up a bit.’ He turned his horse, nudging him towards the rows of dark-green spruce trees that marked the entrance to the forest, not waiting for an answer. Both his companions were shivering, cold and wet, and he knew there wouldn’t be any arguments.
Magnus encouraged Daisy after Vik’s horse, and Jonas turned after them both, still frowning. They had spent so much time trying to find Lotta that they’d not thought through what would happen if they ended up in Slussfall. They couldn’t risk making a mistake now. Not with Magnus to care for and Lotta to find.
‘I could go into the fort!’ Magnus called, turning back to Jonas. ‘They wouldn’t know me.’
‘The people of Slussfall wouldn’t, that’s true. But those men who took Lotta would. I imagine they’d be quite surprised to see you again. Not happy either.’
It was Magnus’ turn to frown, worrying about his sister; still wracked with guilt that he’d let them both be captured. He hoped she was in the fort, that Silver Tooth and Long Beard had lived long enough to get her there.
He wanted to see what Jonas and Vik would do to them.
Lotta’s mind wandered like a river, a very long, winding river. She struggled to keep her thoughts in any one place for long. Her worries were overwhelming and dark. She feared what the old dreamer would do with the clump of hair she’d sawn off. She saw images of her mother in danger, and Magnus trying to find her. And more. More she couldn’t understand, but it frightened her so much that she often woke in the night crying.
Ulrick had let her ride Clover. It made her happy, and he liked to see her happy, so, while the terrain was not too challenging, and the worst of the weather was yet to arrive, they rode side by side in silence, eyes on the clouds, watching as they gradually deepened to a dark grey.
Lotta could tell that Ulrick had a lot on his mind. Previously, he’d worked hard to try and draw conversation out of her. Now, he was more withdrawn, barely speaking. She wondered why, finding herself thinking about that too.
‘You’ll need to give your pony a break soon,’ Ulrick called down to her. ‘We’ve been on the rise for some time. Those stumpy legs aren’t made for so much hard work!’
Lotta scowled up at him, not wanting to get off Clover. Not wanting to share his saddle again.
Ulrick laughed, reading her expression. ‘Think of your poor pony! Snow’s coming, and I’m sure she’d like a break from your heavy lump!’
Lotta scowled some more, doubting she was very heavy at all, but she’d felt Clover slowing down herself. ‘Alright,’ she admitted with some reluctance. And tugging on the reins, she brought her plump pony to a gradual stop.
‘Good girl.’ Ulrick swung his legs over his fleece-covered saddle, jumping down into the snow with a yelp. His lower back ached from near-constant riding, and his right leg burned with discomfort, a pain shooting all the way from his calf to his numb arse.
Lotta peered up at him as he shook and shuffled around, trying to stretch out his body. ‘How much longer will it take?’
Ulrick froze, blinking, before his smile came rushing back. ‘A good question, little princess. A good question indeed.’
‘What’s wrong? Something’s wrong. Are you in trouble?’ Lotta’s eyes were wide with curiosity, her mind open, trying to read Ulrick’s, but nothing came to her, just an overwhelming sense of fear.
‘Well, I wouldn’t say trouble...’ He looked away from her, opening a saddlebag, hunting for something to eat. And finding a squashed lump of cheese, he pulled off a small chunk, handing it to Lotta. ‘Though we may have to rethink our plans for Slussfall.’
Lotta blinked. ‘But we must go to Slussfall. Your wife is in Slussfall!’ she reminded him. ‘We must go!’
Ulrick was surprised. ‘You want to go to Slussfall?’
‘I want to stop travelling. I want a house with a bed and a roof. It’s so cold!’ Lotta shivered for effect, though it wasn’t much of an effort.
‘True, but Slussfall might be a problem for us now, after leaving like we did. The battle. Hakon. I don’t think he’ll be pleased with me. And as for that old woman... if she were to find you.’
Lotta shivered some more, unable to stop.
‘I couldn’t let her keep you, take you from me. I couldn’t.’ Ulrick didn’t regret his decision to take Lotta from Ottby, but it certainly had the potential to cause him problems. Him and Bergit both. ‘Hakon will understand, I know the boy well, but that dreamer?’ He shuddered, wondering what the woman could see. Wondering what she had the power to do.
‘But what about your wife?’
Ulrick’s face brightened just thinking of Bergit. ‘She’ll be happy for an adventure, I’m sure. She’s always wanted to see a polar bear!’
‘A polar bear?’
‘I’ve got friends up North. In Orbo. The sort of friends more than capable of dealing with an old witch and a young lord, if that young lord has a mind to take revenge upon me. ’
‘But...’
/> ‘Eat up, and then we’ll tie Clover onto Skuld. Don’t worry, princess, I’ll keep you safe. You’ve nothing to fear from that dreamer anymore.’
Hakon saw Mother standing at the foot of his bed.
She kept shaking her head at him, and though she didn’t speak, her head never stopped moving. Grey curls bounced, jowls jiggled, eyes bulged.
But not one word escaped her mean mouth.
Hakon tried to get away from her. He wanted to roll over, to crawl out of bed, to run out of the tent, but he was a prisoner. His body wouldn’t move. He couldn’t lift an arm or a leg. He couldn’t even turn his head.
His belly burned, his throat as dry as sand.
Closing his eyes, he sought some respite, but in the darkness, he heard his father’s cold voice. ‘Is this the end, my son? Of you? Of our hopes? Of our long and noble line? For if you do not get out of that bed, Ake will come for you. And then where will our hopes rest? With your pointless cousin?’
Silence.
Hakon listened, wondering if there was more.
‘Ake will come for you!’ Jesper Vettel roared, voice like a whetstone scraping down a blade. ‘My failed son! My embarrassment! My greatest regret! I married a weak woman and look at what that cheating bitch gave me! A pathetic lump of nothing, lying there like a baby. Wrapped up like a fucking baby, waiting for his mother to come and save him!’
Hakon started shivering. He wanted to wrap his arms around his legs and roll into a ball. He wanted to feel safe.
And then Mother finally spoke.
‘He’s not wrong. You needed me to save you, didn’t you, Hakon? And now I am dead, just a useless corpse abandoned in the forest. And who will save you now? Trapped in the snow, dying from Reinar Vilander’s cut. Who will save you now?’
Alys didn’t have time for regrets. She couldn’t have left Stina and Eddeth behind with the men. They were skilled warriors and horsemen who seemed intent on capturing them. Scouts. Men who had tracked them all morning, watching, waiting, biding their time, and then pouncing. They quickly plonked Stina and Eddeth back on their horses, and grabbing all three sets of reins, they led them back to their camp.
They had a camp.
Alys’ throat tightened, chest aching, quickly realising whose camp it was.
There must have been over a thousand men milling around the campsite. Warriors. Armed. Most dressed in mail. They sat and stood around, talking, working. There were scores of horses tied up amongst the trees looking for something to eat. Servants crouched over cooking fires wafting thick smoke.
And injuries.
Alys could smell the injuries. She could hear those who were injured too, crying out, groaning, pleading for help.
Slussfall men.
‘Slussfall men,’ Eddeth whispered as she was pulled off her horse and dropped onto the ground next to Alys and Stina.
Alys turned to glare at her. They had to be smart now.
They had to be quiet.
Two men strode towards them, and one of their captors stepped forward to meet them. Alys watched, shuffling away from Eddeth, wanting to hear what they were saying, but the camp was loud, too many people shouting and calling out to make out much.
The two men looked their way, pointing. Both were dressed in mail. One was older, with straight dark hair that just touched his broad shoulders, and a heavily scarred, long face, dominated by a wide mouth. The other man was young, with a mischievous air about him; brown hair braided at the sides, pulled back from a handsome face. His tunic was wrapped in bandages, patches of dried blood showing through. His eyes jumped around like fleas, lingering on Alys’ breasts, while the other man was listening intently, interested in what their captor was saying.
Alys edged back to Eddeth, pulling her close. ‘Be quiet,’ she warned, eyes widening nervously as the three men walked towards them. ‘Please.’
‘What were you doing in the forest?’ Lief’s attention was drawn to Alys, who had quickly moved forward, wanting to prevent anyone from asking Eddeth any questions. He glanced at Eddeth and Stina before returning his ruined eyes to Alys. ‘Running, according to my man.’
Alys tried to look insulted or surprised, but mostly she just felt scared. ‘We were running. Of course we were running.’ She coughed, clearing her throat, nerves almost paralysing her voice. ‘Your men stalked us. They started chasing us. We didn’t know who they were or what they wanted. What woman wouldn’t run?’ She blinked, lifting her chin.
‘Where were you headed?’ Lief asked.
‘East.’ Alys felt Eddeth step towards her, and she tried to quell her panic, wanting to edge further away from her. ‘To Ullaberg.’
Lief turned to Ivan, who shrugged.
‘It’s a small village on the coast.’
‘Are any of you healers?’ Lief wondered, head swinging from side to side, considering the women. ‘Do you know herbs? How to heal the sick?’ He fixed his attention on Eddeth, who looked ready to burst. She was jiggling about with such energy, almost hopping, that Lief couldn’t tell if she was nodding her head. ‘We are without healers here, and we’ve many sick and injured men, as you can see.’
Alys swallowed, trying to think. She doubted the men would let them go if she said no. But if she said yes? ‘We... know how to use herbs, yes. Some of us more than others.’ She said it reluctantly, turning to Stina and Eddeth. Stina looked pale, blinking nervously at Eddeth. Eddeth looked as though she was about to tell the men everything they wanted to know. Turning back in a hurry, Alys rushed ahead of her. ‘We’ll help with your injured, but please, let us go on our way when we’re done. We must get home, to Ullaberg.’
Lief glanced at Ivan, who nodded. ‘Of course, though we will decide when that is to be. Until then, we will make use of you as we see fit.’ He peered at Eddeth, who had a wild look in her eye, as though her bladder was full and she was trying to hold it in. ‘I take it you’re the most experienced healer?’
Eddeth nodded with speed, glancing at Alys. ‘I am! Yes, indeed, I most certainly am!’ She wanted to prove herself useful. Useful enough to get them out of this mess and back on the road again with haste. ‘I have supplies in my saddlebags.’
‘Good.’ Lief turned to Stina. ‘And you?’
‘I... do,’ Stina said, though that wasn’t entirely true, but someone had to keep an eye on Eddeth, and it was better to leave Alys out of things.
If anyone found out that she was a dreamer...
‘You two will come with me. Ivan, I’ll leave this one to you.’ And sighing, Lief walked Eddeth to her horse, waiting while she twitched and sneezed, unstrapping her saddlebags.
Stina stood next to him, trying not to stare at Alys, who had been left behind with the leery-looking young man. She thought back to Ottby and Ludo, remembering how kind he’d been to her. How respectful. She doubted they would receive the same treatment from anyone here.
Ivan inclined his head for Alys to follow him, and reluctantly, eyes still on Eddeth and Stina, she did. ‘And what are your... skills?’ he wondered, his voice full of amusement, his eyes considering her with intent. ‘You appear to have a sword. Perhaps you are a famed warrior like Jael Furyck?’ She didn’t look as though she could knock down a straw man, he thought, seeing how the long black cloak swamped her slight figure. ‘What is your name?’
Alys walked beside Ivan, heading further into the camp where the smell of festering wounds and smoke, latrines and roasting meat assaulted her. And then she saw the men lying on the ground, groaning, wet-looking burns disfiguring faces; seeping wounds on half-naked bodies; some wrapped in filthy bandages in need of changing. There were few helping, Alys could see. Few tending to them at all.
She blinked, remembering the question, debating whether to lie. ‘Alys.’
‘And why do you have a sword, Alys? Were you anticipating trouble?’ Ivan wondered, walking close to her, head cocked to one side. She smelled of lavender, he thought, inhaling her; it was the most pleasant thing he’d smelled in days.
‘Is it your husband’s sword?’ Ivan smiled, slipping an arm behind Alys’ back, ushering her into the clearing, moving her around the various stone circles, bright with flames.
Alys tried to move ahead of Ivan and his eager arm, glancing over her shoulder, wondering where the stern man was taking Eddeth and Stina. ‘My husband has no need of a sword, he’s dead.’ That didn’t answer his question, but Alys didn’t care. She was more concerned with where the young man was leading her; worried too about what Eddeth might reveal.
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ Ivan’s smile grew as he pushed Alys forward, into a lean-to shelter that appeared to have been made out of bedsheets. ‘This is Falla, Lief’s wife. You met him earlier. The miserable-looking man? Ugly, with screwed-up eyes? Doesn’t know how to smile?’ He winked at Falla, who glowered at him, insulted on her husband’s behalf. ‘She will show you what to do.’ Ivan’s eyes jumped from the luscious Falla to the lovely Alys, realising that he needed to leave before he found it impossible to concentrate. ‘I will...’ His eyes drifted back to Alys, ‘come and see you later!’ And with one, final, predatory smile, Ivan spun away.
Falla frowned at Alys, taking in her long black cloak. The sword. ‘Who are you?’
Alys sighed. ‘I’m Alys. Captured by your men. I am... here to help.’
No matter how many times they thought it through, there was a real risk of getting captured. Discovered. Their identities revealed. Whether it was Vik or Jonas who went into Slussfall’s fortress. Or Magnus. There were likely men in there who would recognise them.