by A. E. Rayne
Liara started crying through the wall, and Reinar could see the tension in Elin’s face. ‘It must be strange, being here again?’
Elin murmured, yawning. ‘It is, but I’m glad I came back. I never wanted to leave, but I didn’t know what else to do, Reinar. You wouldn’t talk to me. I didn’t think you even wanted to listen to me anymore. No one understood. Not even Agnette, as much as she tried. I had to go.’
‘And now... do you want to stay?’
Elin smiled, lifting a hand to his face. ‘I do. Running away is never the answer.’ And edging closer, she kissed Reinar’s cheek, smelling the familiar smoky scent of him, her lips brushing his bristles. She brought her other hand up, holding his face, bringing it towards hers, kissing him deeply. ‘I’m back, where I belong. With you.’
Ivan’s words rang in Alys’ ears as she lay on the hard ground between Stina and Eddeth. Now that Hakon no longer needed such intensive care, they had been moved out of his tent, left to sleep outside. It was a relief, despite the fact that they were not alone. Three servants slept on the ground behind them, though they were young and timid, wary of the strangers.
Stina was worried that Eddeth would start blurting out everything she shouldn’t blurt out, but Eddeth had fallen asleep almost immediately, exhausted by the stress of the day, snoring loudly. Stina had doubted that she could fall asleep at all. Eddeth’s snoring was horrific, and she was terrorised by memories of Torvig, his hand over her mouth, suffocating her. Though, within moments of Eddeth snoring, she too had drifted off.
Leaving Alys to lie in the dark, on the uneven ground, listening to all the breathing, sleeping noises around her, wanting to slip away into a dream. She tried to hear voices – Magnus’, Lotta’s, her grandfather’s – but all she heard was snoring.
Magnus was in danger, though. Something had happened to him.
She’d seen glimpses of him with Jonas while she was in Ottby, and it had comforted her. He was safe, she’d felt it.
But now?
Now Alys knew he wasn’t safe at all.
So taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, squeezing her grandfather’s arm ring in one hand, wanting to find a dream.
Vik knew that his body’s need for renewal was important. He’d spent years forcing himself to sleep when the horrors of what he’d done had threatened to keep him tossing and turning all night long.
But Magnus?
They’d sent him into that fort, and now Vik couldn’t sleep at all.
Jonas lay opposite him, just as tired, just as awake. ‘We can figure it all out in the morning,’ he tried convincing them both.
‘And how are we going to get in? What do we have for trading?’
That was a good point.
‘I’ve got my silver, plenty of silver still. That will get us inside the fort. Silver can open a lot of doors, you know that.’
He sounded worried, Vik thought, feeling worried himself. ‘Weather doesn’t sound too good out there.’
They both looked up at the tent, which appeared to be sinking under the weight of snow. It sounded as though it was swirling around them, likely settling. ‘No, but hopefully, Magnus found himself a bed somewhere warm.’ Jonas was so cross with himself, so unsettled that he wanted to scream. It had been his job to look after Magnus, just as it had been his job to look after Alys.
And look at what had happened to the both of them.
He thought of Eida, wanting to hear his wife’s voice, telling him what to do.
Though he heard nothing but the storm.
Hakon couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning, uncomfortable and restless. He’d been sleeping for days. His body needed it, and the sleep had helped him recover, according to Eddeth. He grimaced, reminded of the strange woman and her jar of wriggling maggots. Lifting a hand to his tender belly, he shifted it towards the bandage Eddeth had secured around him. Touching the edge of the cloth, he could almost feel the searing pain as Reinar Vilander’s blade pierced his skin. He wondered if the blade had been poisoned. Perhaps Reinar’s dreamer had thought of that? Why else had he become so ill? Had so many strange nightmares?
The wind was picking up.
Hakon watched the tent bluster like dark waves, reminding him of Mother, and he could almost hear her familiar cackle in his ears. It was strange to be so affected by her loss, but he felt vulnerable without her.
Uncertain about the future.
Closing his eyes, Hakon tried to find a different, more comforting image, but he saw Alari glaring at him, and opening his eyes, he stared into the darkness. He had let her pet dreamer die, and the goddess was angry with him. She was watching him now, he knew, but was she trying to hurt him or keep him safe?
He wasn’t sure.
He wanted to leave his shelter and run away from all those men who slept outside, waiting for him to lead them again. He heard his father’s harsh voice mocking him; his uncle, laughing as he hacked off his thumbs; Mother again, chanting, bellowing, scolding.
Hakon clamped his hands over his ears, trying to shut them all out.
He couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.
And closing his eyes, he tried to find the image of his wife in his mind.
Wishing he was home.
Reinar stood on the inner wall ramparts alone.
Not entirely alone.
Those men on watch were there, wandering back and forth down the ramparts, talking to each other in murmurs, rubbing cold hands over braziers, checking the field, covered in tents now. The forest too. But they didn’t stray near their lord, for he kept his eyes down, not inviting their company.
Snow was falling, and Reinar tipped back his head, letting the flakes settle on his face, wetting his lips. Hearing a noise, he turned, seeing the familiar figure of his brother limping towards him. ‘Couldn’t sleep?’
Sigurd shivered, nodding. ‘Didn’t expect to find you up here with Elin back.’ He peered at his brother, eager to take his mind off his own problems. ‘Is she alright?’
Reinar stared at the forest, shoulders tense. ‘She is.’ He wasn’t reluctant to talk to Sigurd, he just didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how he felt, except odd.
Sigurd could sense it. ‘It’s not always easy being with someone, loving them. Sometimes you don’t realise how much you want to be with that person until they’re gone. But then it’s too late. You can’t go back, undo all your mistakes, change your mind, make it all different.’ Tears welled in Sigurd’s eyes again, and he dropped his head, resting his hands on the wall, remembering the noise of the battle: boulders shattering the ramparts, arrows flying, Tulia screaming at her archers.
Reinar leaned over beside him. ‘Doesn’t make it any easier, though, getting this right.’ And he tapped his head, annoyed with himself.
‘No, it doesn’t.’ It was so quiet on the wall. Perfectly so. Snow had a way of doing that, Sigurd knew; blocking out every noise, as though you were under a fur, the harshness of the world dulled so you could hear your own thoughts.
The beat of your broken heart.
Tulia hated the snow, he remembered. She hated the cold and the wind and the rain. Though, had she really ever hated anything? She’d grumbled and moaned, but she’d never backed away. And she’d never given up.
And she’d never left.
More tears.
Reinar edged towards him, slipping an arm around Sigurd’s shoulder. ‘There’ll never be anyone like Tulia Saari,’ he grinned. ‘I imagine those Ullaberg women will never forget what she taught them. Their husbands won’t recognise them!’ Images of Alys in the green dress shooting arrows flashed before Reinar’s eyes, and he blinked them away, disappointed in himself.
Elin was here. Everything he wanted.
He needed to stop thinking about what had happened and move forward.
Sigurd wiped his eyes, just as keen for a distraction as Reinar. ‘I’ve been thinking about Slussfall. About how to get the Vettels and finish them off.’
Reinar turned to
him, eyebrow raised.
‘Ships.’
‘Ships?’ And just like that, Reinar’s mind was right back on Alys.
The shadow was small, hunched over in a corner.
Alys didn’t know where she was, but it was dark. Dripping. She turned, hearing scurrying noises. Rats. The smell was bad, like an overflowing latrine. She looked around, not sure what she was doing here, wanting to leave.
More shadows. All of them bigger. Slumped against a wall.
Snoring.
Beams of moonlight shone through the narrow window to her right, and she saw a glimmer of her son. Gasping in horror, Alys tried to run to him. She couldn’t move, and as she stood there, Magnus looked up, terror in his eyes, shaking with cold and fear. She turned around, hoping to see Jonas or Vik, but everyone else was just shadows. Dark. Not moving.
‘Magnus!’ she called, turning back, trying to get his attention. ‘Magnus!’
The moon hurried behind thick clouds, hiding its light, and Alys spun around and around, trying to find her son, needing to see him. Wanting him to see her.
Now she couldn’t see at all.
‘You can never tell her, Jonas. We must keep it from her. We have to protect her. If the truth gets out, they will take her from us!’
Alys was confused. A woman’s voice.
It was still mostly dark, but the foul smell was gone now, replaced with sweeter aromas that stirred old memories. And then a burst of flame, glowing from a lamp, and Alys stepped forward, floorboards beneath her feet.
In a cottage now.
A man and a woman were talking across a table.
Alys stopped, recognising her grandfather. She couldn’t see the woman’s face, though it must have been her grandmother, for they were holding hands.
Jonas looked so young.
She stared, smiling.
The cottage...
Alys glanced around, remembering every corner, every hole in the walls. She smelled cinnamon. And lavender. Her grandmother had used lavender for everything, from teas to honey, to healing salves. She’d made the moistest apple cake, spiced with cinnamon. Jonas would always steal a piece when it was far too hot, the cake crumbling in his fingers as he shared it with Alys.
Alys turned back to her grandfather, realising that he was crying.
‘How do I lie about everything, Eida? To everyone? About who she is? About where she came from? How?’ Jonas was bereft, dark hair falling over his face.
Eida released his hands, brushing it out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ears. She cupped his face in her hands, wanting him to hear her. ‘You have gone to war for less important things than this, Jonas Bergstrom,’ she reminded him firmly. ‘You would happily pick up a sword to defend your lord, so why not a little fibbing to save your family? Hmmm? It won’t be so hard, I promise you, for the alternative is far, far worse. We must keep this secret. All of it. We can. We can keep the secret to save her life.’
Alys stared at them, confused, wondering who they were talking about.
‘You.’
She spun around, noticing a figure lurking in the shadows now, and narrowing her eyes, Alys squinted, trying to see who was there. She didn’t recognise the voice. It was a woman’s voice. Not old. Not young either. ‘Who are you?’
Laughter.
‘What do you want from me?’
‘From you? Nothing at all. I just wanted to open the door. After all these years, don’t you think it’s time, Alys? Time you discovered the truth they were so desperate to hide?’
Silence for a moment.
‘And soon you will, my precious little Alys. The gods are stirring, the threads of fate being woven... and soon you’ll know everything.’
Alys shivered, hearing the hate in that voice. The cold, dark, malevolence.
She turned away, looking for her grandparents, but they were gone. And she stood in that familiar cottage in the darkness, all alone.
Shivering.
II
Hunted
13
Ivan cupped red hands around his mouth, blowing vigorously. It was so cold that his breath smoke consumed his entire face. His head pounded, his back ached, and he was struggling to be interested in anything but his desire to head back to bed.
Though bed made him think of Alys and he sighed, frustrated.
She had slipped and slithered away from him like a beautiful snake, trying to keep out of his grasp. He didn’t understand it. Women flocked to him, encouraging his attention. All but the two he was so desperate to bed. And not just bed, but love.
He laughed, head splitting, feeling idiotic.
Seeing Lief striding towards him, Ivan straightened up, turning around. ‘We are leaving!’ he bellowed to his shivering men, eyes on the servants who were kicking dirt over fires, emptying cauldrons filled with nothing he wanted to eat. He blew out a breath, trying not to retch. ‘It’s time to go home! See our families! Make a new plan and start again!’ His enthusiasm had gone by the time he’d uttered his last words, and even he felt miserable. The thought of starting again, of rebuilding and rethinking and enduring Hakon’s rages of impatience that it was all happening too slowly was not appealing in the slightest.
Hakon’s desire to be on that throne would burn like the sun, blazing above them all. They would have to build ships, steal them if necessary, Ivan decided. He wasn’t going to trek over those mountains again.
His mood lightened when he saw Alys, Stina, and Eddeth heading towards him wrapped in their cloaks, not one of them able to raise a smile. ‘Ready for our journey?’ he grinned.
Even Eddeth looked miserable at the thought of being dragged to Slussfall in the company of the Vettels. Stina was silent, on edge. She trusted Alys not to reveal their secrets, but Eddeth? Surely it was only a matter of time before she blurted out who they were and where they’d come from?
‘We are,’ Alys said, noting the spark of interest in Ivan’s bleary eyes as he stepped closer. She edged away. ‘Though, it’s not where we wish to go, as I told you last night.’
‘No,’ Ivan acknowledged, following her, trying to look sympathetic, but secretly he was thrilled. He saw Falla out of the corner of his eye and barely felt a twinge, all his attention on the freckle-nosed Alys now. ‘It’s not, I know, and I am sympathetic to that. But think of the service you’ll be providing, helping the future King of Alekka himself! He’ll reward you mightily, enough to make your sacrifice worthwhile, I’m sure. And once we’re at Slussfall, you can be on your way again.’ Ivan flashed his brightest smile. ‘Though, by then you might have decided that Slussfall is a much more desirous place to be than your sandy beach.’
Alys turned away from him, walking towards Eddeth, who had frozen, eyes on Hakon, being helped towards them by Njall.
‘It’s a bad idea!’ Eddeth announced, loudly enough to be heard some distance away, and Hakon pulled up in surprise, yelping. ‘You need more rest! And jerking about on a horse all day is not restful, my lord!’
Hakon felt like collapsing into a heap, his stomach burning intensely, his head a buzzing storm. But everyone had stopped, staring at him, thanks to Eddeth and her booming voice, and he couldn’t let them see a weak lord who had failed.
A man ready for his bed.
They had to follow him. Again. He had to show them the way.
Lief peered at him, dark eyes full of concern, noting the sheen of sweat on Hakon’s sallow face. ‘Perhaps it would be better, my lord, if we waited another day?’
‘Another day away from Slussfall? Leaving it vulnerable? Leaving us at the mercy of whoever seeks to corner us here, in this forest?’ Hakon attempted to snort, though it hurt. Everything hurt. He clamped his lips together, trying to keep upright. He wanted Lief to be wrong, but every blink of his mangled eyes had him doubting his own bravado. Still, he couldn’t stay in bed. His dreams taunted him, warning him of what would come if he failed to act; of what would happen if he didn’t take charge of his army and return to his fortress.
&
nbsp; Nodding, Lief left Hakon with Njall and headed for Falla, who was already mounted beside his horse, her face pale, her brow furrowed. ‘You are unwell?’
Falla couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. She just blinked.
‘You should have had some of Eddeth’s tea before we left.’
Falla took a deep breath, the wave of nausea finally passing. ‘It will be better when we’re moving. All that smoke... it reminds me of what happened in Ottby.’
Lief agreed, mounting his horse with one last look at his lord, trying to ignore the voices in his head warning him that they weren’t out of danger yet.
Reinar was so engrossed in his thoughts as he bent over the map table, moving the wooden ships and men around, that he didn’t hear Elin come up behind him.
Then the baby cried, and he jumped, turning around.
Elin held Liara in her arms, the tiny baby squirming, mouth open, eyes screwed up in annoyance. ‘Agnette’s having a wash,’ she explained, peering down at Liara.
Reinar blinked, heart aching. ‘She sounds hungry.’
‘Well, she’s Bjarni’s daughter,’ Elin smiled, ‘so that would be right.’
Leaning forward, Reinar kissed his wife’s cheek. There was colour on her face, he noticed. She looked much better than the ghostly figure he’d carried into the hall covered in snow.
Elin glanced over her shoulder, wondering how long Agnette would be. Liara’s crying was becoming explosive, and she was growing uncomfortable. She turned back to Reinar, frowning. ‘I was looking for a dress this morning. In my chest. My favourite dress. I couldn’t find it.’
Reinar froze, eyes jumping around the hall, looking anywhere but at Elin. ‘No?’
‘My green one. I couldn’t see it anywhere.’
‘They’ll be listening to my daughter in Stornas!’ a fresh-faced Agnette announced, bustling into the hall, taking Liara from Elin. ‘I’m sorry, I thought she’d be able to go longer.’ She lifted the baby up to her shoulder, gently rubbing her back, eyes on Reinar. ‘Is something wrong?’