by A. E. Rayne
Those thrown into the hole were left to await their punishment. Some lingered there over time, but eventually, they were called before the lord, and his judgement was delivered. Jonas hoped that judgement would be delayed while Hakon Vettel remained further south.
The sky was darkening, wind rushing into the fort, sweeping around its walls, lifting cloaks, whipping hair around frozen faces. Vik pulled his hood down low, wanting to escape the worst of it, eyes on the prison hole.
‘Who are you?’ came the shrill voice. And there was that orange-haired shrew again, peering at him as though she wanted to skin him and cook him for supper. ‘Where have you come from?’
‘I’m with the fur traders, lady,’ Vik smiled. She had certainly taken up against him, though he wasn’t sure why. ‘Remember?’
Bergit scowled at him. ‘Why are you still here, then?’ She eyed him closely. He was a well-dressed man; strong-looking too. The wind flapped his cloak open, and her eyes went to his many belts, stuffed full of knives.
All of them gleaming.
‘My companions had too much ale last night. They’re sleeping it off. I’m just trying to pass the time before we leave. Thought I might find something tasty to take with me. We’ll be heading up to The Murk. Not much tasty in that black hole.’ Vik spoke from experience, and he could see Bergit’s interest spark. Her shoulders dropped as she peered at him.
‘You’re from The Murk?’
Vik shook his head. ‘No, from a small village further south, but The Murk’s where you want to go for pelts and furs. If you can stand the cold and the dark. And the beasts.’
‘I’ve heard there’s no sun.’
‘Well, not no sun, but you barely catch a glimpse of it before it’s snatched away by night again. All year round. It’s a wonder anything lives in that frozen land. So you’ll forgive me for being so curious about your fort. I haven’t seen life like this in some time. I have to soak it in before I leave.’
He really was a handsome man, Bergit thought, staring closely. He reminded her of Ulrick, and she stared at the gates, wondering if she would ever see her husband again. ‘Well, I wish you luck soaking it in. If I were you, I’d purchase a jar of that honey. Herta Karsson has the sweetest honey I’ve ever tasted. She makes it with lavender. Drizzle some of that over your porridge, and you won’t mind The Murk so much.’
Vik nodded, still smiling. ‘I will, thank you.’ And bobbing his head, he headed towards the honey seller, resettling his hood low over his eyes, polite smile vanishing, hoping Jonas was having some luck with Ollo Narp.
Magnus watched him, hands around the window bars. He hadn’t said a word to Leonid, not wanting to get his hopes up; not wanting to dash them either. Vik and Jonas were still in the fort, as he knew they would be. It was dangerous, though. Men knew them, and if those men spotted them, soon they’d have more company in their miserable hole. Magnus’ stomach ached with hunger, but the smell of the dark pit had him gagging as he watched Vik slip down an alley, wondering what he was planning.
Ollo wasn’t sure what he thought. The crevices between his wild eyebrows deepened considerably. ‘Well, to do that I’d need to pay Elmar. He watches the hole during the day. Takes turns with Pakki Hallen, you remember him?’
Jonas nodded, irritated with Ollo’s farting around. ‘I’d pay extra for that, of course.’
‘And how are you so rich?’ Ollo wondered. ‘To pay for this boy?’
‘He’s my blood, and I want him out of here. You wouldn’t pay to save someone you cared about?’
Ollo had had a wife once. A son too. A long time ago now. Memories of love were so long gone they barely rippled in his heart. ‘Perhaps,’ he considered, scratching his beard.
‘All you need to do is organise it. Get Elmar to let the boy out, and get us out of the fort before the gates close. You’ll have the rest of your coins then.’
Ollo was busy calculating the risk. ‘And you say you’ve got twice as much as this waiting?’ He’d always known Jonas Bergstrom as an honest man, but still, they were on opposite sides now. ‘You’re not trying to fleece me, are you?’
Jonas laughed. ‘I have it, Ollo, and you’ll have it too, I swear it to you. On Thenor himself. Let him take my sword and send me into Vasa’s arms if I’m lying. I have it waiting, though I won’t tell you where. Not till that boy is outside the gates.’
‘Alright.’ Ollo could see a way to make it work. ‘I’ll do it.’ And spitting on his dirty palm, he held out his hand to Jonas, who did the same, clasping Ollo’s arm. ‘We have a deal then, old friend. One to make us both smile, I hope. Now go, make yourself scarce. After I get myself thawed out in the tavern, I’ll have a word with Elmar. He’ll see us right.’
Jonas nodded, preparing to leave, but Ollo kept a hand on his arm.
‘Though, I’ll be needing those coins now.’
Nodding some more, Jonas dug into his cloak, opening his pouch, pulling out a big lump of silver coins. He handed them to Ollo, who took them with shining eyes, slipping them into his own pouch, quickly realising that he didn’t have enough room. ‘That’s enough for now. We’ll meet again later. Don’t worry, I’ll find you.’ And with that, he turned around, boots slipping on the cleared path, heading back to the tavern.
Jonas watched him go, shivering, knowing that he couldn’t trust Ollo Narp.
Not for even one moment could he trust Ollo Narp.
20
Reinar stopped outside the cottage door.
It was a horrible old hovel. He didn’t know why he’d made Salma stay in it. And then, Alys. He sighed, shoulders dropping. There was no time to think of dreamers, especially dreamers in green dresses.
No time at all, he tried to convince himself, not moving.
‘Looking for someone?’ came a voice behind him, and Reinar jerked around to Ludo. Mouth open, he just stared, no words popping into his head.
Ludo edged closer, and seeing the confusion in Reinar’s eyes, he lowered his voice. ‘I hope they’re safe, wherever they are. I keep thinking about Stina, and what Torvig did to her. I failed to protect her. He could have killed her. And Alys.’ Twisting around, Ludo checked behind them, but no one was there. The sun was heading for its bed, and those who’d been rushing around the square or working up a sweat in the training ring were turning their minds to fires and furs and food.
Reinar frowned, both pleased and irritated that Ludo had read his mind. ‘They’re both lucky that Alys knew more about weapons than any of us realised.’
‘Mmmm, makes you wonder why she let Ilene punch her. Or her husband. Not even Tulia could defeat Torvig, but Alys did. So why did she let her husband hurt her for all those years?’
Reinar had wondered the same thing, though love was complicated, he knew.
And Alys had a lot of secrets.
Perhaps more than even she realised...
They made camp near sheer-faced cliffs. The mountains had been rising steadily throughout the afternoon, and as dusk came to turn the sky a deep lilac colour, the army got to work. There was little wind, though the snow was still deep and they built shelters and fires far away from the edge of the cliffs, nearer the trees.
Alys stood watching the sun sink over the valley, taking any hint of warmth with it. Shivering, she wrapped her cloak around her chest, trying to stop it flapping away from her. She felt lost in a blizzard of thoughts and images, trying to find anything useful; anything to aid their journey. Thanks to Eddeth, they were going to be freed in the morning, and Alys needed to know more about where they were going.
She saw Magnus in that dark hole, but was he in Slussfall?
She’d seen nothing of Lotta at all.
It worried her.
‘Alys?’
Jerking forward, Alys almost tripped over. She’d been standing far too close to the cliff edge, and she hurried to move back, heart thumping.
‘I didn’t mean to frighten you,’ Stina smiled wearily. ‘I thought we should make sure everything’s ready
for the morning. We want to leave at dawn, don’t we? Before they change their minds.’
‘We do,’ Alys agreed, eyes on the camp in the distance, sensing the speed with which everyone was working to prepare fires before the sky deepened to black. ‘We really do.’ She could see Ivan talking to his cousin, who, not wanting to appear as an invalid anymore, was keen to see them go.
‘As long as Eddeth can keep quiet a little longer,’ Stina whispered, watching Eddeth hand Falla a cup of tea. They had spent the afternoon riding with Falla, and Stina hadn’t been able to shake her fear that Eddeth would ruin everything.
‘She will,’ Alys promised her. ‘Eddeth can control herself when she needs to.’ And smiling, she led Stina back to the camp. ‘I’ll see what food I can find to take with us. It would be helpful to have a few things. It doesn’t look like the easiest journey.’ She lifted her head to those mountains whose tips were lost in the darkening clouds.
‘Good. I’ll check on the horses. I don’t want anything to delay us.’ Stina hated being in the camp around all those men. She hated them watching her, leering at her, whispering about her. She felt like a dreamer, almost able to read their thoughts; watching their eyes move from her lips to her breasts, and beyond. Those eyes followed her wherever she walked, lingering long enough for her to shudder. She would feel better, she knew, safer, once they were out of the Vettels’ grip. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Ivan making a beeline for Alys, and smiling sympathetically at her friend, Stina slipped away into the trees to find their horses.
Alys sighed, forcing a smile as Ivan approached. And not wanting to be alone with him, she quickened her pace. ‘I thought you’d be sitting around a fire already, warming up?’
Ivan looked irritated as he turned to follow her. ‘There’s a lot to do yet. I can’t sit around while my men do it all for me. Even I know that wouldn’t be a good idea right now.’ He frowned, his mood sinking further. ‘Hakon tells me he’s letting you go. Tomorrow.’
Alys nodded, trying not to look as happy as she felt. ‘He is, which is good news for all of us. We can be on our way home, and your cousin is feeling better. You must be pleased about that?’
Ivan didn’t look pleased in the slightest. ‘Hakon’s trying to pretend that he’s not injured.’ He slipped an arm around Alys’ waist, ushering her towards the back of a shelter, away from Hakon’s view. ‘He’s trying to pretend last night didn’t happen.’
‘Well, you can’t blame him for that. Leaders have to inspire confidence, don’t they? They have to show strength.’
‘Of course, but after The Hunter?’
Alys didn’t want to be trapped counselling Ivan, but he didn’t appear to be going anywhere in a hurry. ‘Perhaps he’s in shock? He was very ill, and the pain must be intense. I imagine he doesn’t know what else to do but wish it all away. You can help him, I’m sure, just by giving him some time.’
Ivan nodded, thinking how wise she was. How wise and beautiful. ‘You can come and eat in my tent again,’ he grinned, leaning in close. ‘Though I’ve no idea what food there’ll be tonight. Not sure anyone has much appetite for hunting.’
Alys backed away. ‘No, and I’ve no appetite for eating. You go, Ivan. I need to find Eddeth, make sure she hasn’t wandered off somewhere.’
And nodding his head with some regret, Ivan turned to leave. Stopping, he glanced over his shoulder with a wink. ‘But if you change your mind, you know where to find me!’
It was getting late.
Soon darkness would swallow up the fort, and the main gates would close. The traders were packing their unsold goods into baskets, and onto carts and horses, ready for the cold trudge home to villages and back to ships moored in the harbour. They moved slowly, half-frozen after a day spent outside trying to encourage equally frozen villagers to part with their coins.
Jonas’ pouch felt much lighter now as he waited in the mouth of the alley, eyes darting around. Ollo Narp had disappeared towards the prison hole some time ago, and Jonas couldn’t stop muttering to himself, certain the greedy turd had betrayed him. He squinted into the distance, eyes on the gates as the guards roused themselves out of their frigid state, making moves towards those traders who were funnelling out of the square.
Vik was with them.
They didn’t want to spook Ollo, who had always been nervous around Vik, so Vik had rejoined the fur traders who had left the tavern behind. And happy to see him, they chatted away to a hooded Vik as he slipped out with them.
He looked cross, Jonas thought, seeing that familiar sharp jawline poking out beneath his friend’s hood. And grinning, Jonas turned his attention back to the prison hole, wanting to catch a glimpse of Magnus, though the window was in deep shadow, and he saw nothing but darkness. Shoulders tensing, Jonas blew out a smoky breath, hoping Ollo would hurry.
Those guards would shut the gates.
Soon.
Hakon had no appetite, yet he made a great pretence of being hungry. He was loud and smiling as he sat with Lief and Ivan, Jerrick, and two of Ivan’s men. He wanted word to spread through the camp of how improved their lord was. Of how unaffected by his wound and their strange journey. Those wary of the gods’ wrath needed to know that their lord was not concerned at all.
He was not ill. He was not marked. He was just fine.
Rikkard had managed to find enough ale to keep Hakon happy, and he was hard at work, refilling cups, offering bowls of nuts while the men waited for their meal to arrive.
‘Your recovery has been swift, my lord,’ Lief noted, no smile on his serious face. He felt uneasy. Jaw clenched, he held out his cup for a nervous-looking Rikkard to fill. ‘We were lucky to have come across those healers.’
Hakon’s eyes brightened. ‘We were lucky, indeed! If Mother were here, she would tell us that the gods wanted me to live, to see the throne return to the Vettels after all this time.’
‘And The Hunter?’ Jerrick wondered, shaking his head at Rikkard, not wanting any ale. He felt nauseous, unsettled, and more superstitious than any of them; more concerned about what would come next too. Shadows lengthened around them like dark giants, and he couldn’t stop shivering, remembering the vatyr. ‘That wasn’t lucky, my lord. Only the doomed see The Hunter.’
Ivan laughed, the least superstitious of them all. He tucked his worries far away from his eyes, throwing back his last drop of ale. ‘Do we look doomed, Jerrick?’ They all turned to stare at Ivan, whose broad smile was at odds with his twitching jaw. ‘The gods challenge us every day, we all know that. They seek the best to be the rulers of this land. Only the bravest warriors, the quickest minds. They must challenge us by rewarding those who rise and punishing those who fall. We’re not doomed, for Hakon has no mark! We’re being tested by Thenor himself!’
Hakon felt the comfort of having his cousin nearby, and his confidence surged. ‘Ivan’s right. The gods wish to challenge us, to see us prove to every Alekkan why the Vettels are the rightful rulers of this land.’ He wanted to fall to the ground and curl into a ball, wrapping his arms around his aching belly. Eyes on Rikkard, he stuck out his cup, needing more ale, though he doubted there was enough ale in all of Alekka to drown his terror and his fear that every word he uttered was a lie. But turning to Ivan with a full cup, he banged it into his cousin’s. ‘I welcome whatever tests Thenor has in mind, for he will not find me wanting!’ And lifting his cup high, he forced his smile even wider.
Lief raised his own cup, though not his lips. There was no smile in him at all. Ivan and Hakon were doing a masterful job of trying to convince them that what they saw with their eyes and heard with their ears was not the truth they knew in their hearts. He saw Jerrick and Ivan’s men nod and smile with some enthusiasm, almost convinced. But the truth left Lief cold, and no amount of expertly woven words would convince him that Hakon was not doomed.
For doomed, he most certainly was.
Men were talking outside the iron door.
Night was falling in the fort and Magnus c
ouldn’t stop shaking. Shoulders hunched up to his ears, he turned to Leonid, who had spent much of the afternoon sobbing.
There were no tears in Magnus. He was too scared to cry.
Scared and hopeful, for he had seen Jonas and Vik, and he knew they’d be working to try and get him out. Yet another day was ending and another night in the dank darkness with the smell and the sound of squeaking rats beckoned.
But men were talking outside the prison door.
And what did that mean?
Alys knew Stina had already checked on the horses, but she wanted a moment to herself. A moment away from the nervous chatter around the fire, and the sharp-eyed Falla Gundersen, who peered at her as though she could see right through her. So Alys had made her way to Haski, who appeared happy for her company. She hadn’t had her own horse since she’d run away from Torborg all those years ago, and smiling sadly, she ran a hand over his grey coat, images of her grandfather drifting into her mind.
Closing her eyes, Alys breathed deeply, letting the camp noises disperse. She inhaled the wafting smoke, remembering Ottby and her disastrous idea to launch Eddeth’s herbs into Hakon’s army. That old dreamer had blown the smoke straight back at them.
Alys shivered, eyes open now, glancing around, but they were alone.
She placed a cold hand on Haski’s cheek, pleased when he leaned into it, and then she remembered the apple she’d secreted away for him, and pulling it from her pouch, she held it out, watching as he gobbled it up. And in a flash, she was back in Ullaberg, and Magnus stood before her, hand curled like he was holding an apple. ‘No,’ she laughed, shaking her head. ‘Flat, Magnus, you must keep your hand flat. She won’t bite you, she just wants to nuzzle you.’ Magnus had been terrified of horses as a child, and she’d convinced Arnon to buy him a pony so he could grow his confidence. ‘Don’t give her any fingers to nibble!’ Magnus had looked at her in horror then, and Alys had laughed some more as she showed her six-year-old son what to do; holding her own hand out, letting Daisy snort and snuffle it. Magnus’ hair had been lighter then, she realised. Not like Lotta’s, but a deep gold like hers.