Avelynn (39 page)

I stumbled upon a well-worn path leading to the river and stopped. I could hear the water's gentle sloshing nearby. The forest was cast in inky shadow, but the glow from the fires illuminated the path enough for me to discern moving shapes. There was not a soul in sight. No footfalls pounding against the ground as they ran for water. Surely, servants would be trying to collect river water in an attempt to quench the fires. I looked to the manor. A sense of foreboding, deep and innate, raised the hairs on my forearms and prickled along the back of my neck. Where was everyone?

I took a precious moment to catch my ragged breath, to slow the pounding of my frantic heart. My body was tiring fast, anger melting into exhaustion. My back ached. But the wind brought the specter of men's voices to my ears. I scrambled down the path.

The Frome was a wide river, but there had to be a narrow or calm enough section somewhere for me to cross. The water would be frigid. Ice along the banks would have retreated only a few weeks ago. I wasn't sure I could cross it, but what choice did I have? Either the river took us, or Demas would finish us off.

I stayed tight to the river's edge, but the shore quickly became choked with rushes and sedges, the ground spongy and wet. Bitter-cold water lapped at my ankles. Once soaked, Demas's leather shoes proved useless against the cold. The world was blanketed in muted darkness. The moon, pushing against the thick bank of clouds choking its light, did little to aid my course. The farther I struggled from the manor, the higher the riverbank rose away from me. I tried to clamber up the bank to the tree line above, but it was too slippery with mud. If I'd had two free hands I might have managed, but Edward and I had to find another way. Too afraid to turn back, I pressed onward.

In no time, water swirled around my knees. With each step, I sank a little deeper into the silt. Lifting my foot from the suctioning pull became increasingly difficult. I lost my balance and fell. Edward slipped from my arms. Frigid water engulfed me like arrows of ice. My breath caught in my throat. My chest constricted. I gasped, my entire body shaking.

“Avelynn.” Edward flailed and sputtered, gasping for breath.

I trudged through the water, half crawling, half falling, and gathering him to my chest. “I've got you.”

“I'm so cold.” His teeth were chattering.

“It won't be long now.” I pulled myself up, pushing onward with single-minded purpose.

“I'll find us someplace safe and warm and light a great fire.”

His voice was weary, distant. “Do you promise?”

Tears slid down my cheeks. Goddess help us. “I promise.”

I don't know how long I wandered. Time began to blur, each dizzying moment followed by another, all my effort focused on placing one foot in front of the other. A lashing March wind nipped at my bare skin. The cold air gripped hard at my spine. Soaked with river water, the plaster on my back became slippery, and the cloth strips began to slide, bunching at my waist. Newly closed scabs chafed and tore against the back of my dress. Our progress had slowed considerably. Each step wracked my body, each breath strained.

“Let me walk.” Edward pushed away from my hold, and I set him down, my body throbbing.

I stood panting. “But you're hurt.”

“I will manage. Help me.”

I nodded and wrapped his arm up and over my shoulder, his body leaning against mine. We hobbled through the bitter water, Edward sweating and wincing with the effort to stay upright. Demas's heavy wool cloak had absorbed half the river into its thick fibers, and it became an iron anchor dragging behind me. I released the clasp on my shoulder, giving my body up to exposure, and let the sodden mass go. Our steps were slow and heavy. We stumbled and fell, over and over. How long could we possibly keep doing this?

The clouds began to break apart. A waning gibbous moon skirted between fast-moving shadows, the wisps of clouds drifting across the brilliant surface like tendrils of smoke from Wareham's fires. I could see my breath. The moonlight cast my pale icy skin and white wedding gown into a ghostly beacon.

There was a jut in the shoreline up ahead. I struggled to keep us close to the embankment and thanked the Goddess—the steep overhang was tapering off. If we just kept going, we would soon be able to climb up onto solid ground. Using the last of my resources, I pressed forward, each muscle, each nerve, each fiber of my being protesting and quivering.

As we neared the crest of the bend, I heard male voices and froze. We were downwind from them, and the cadence of their words reached me clearly. They spoke Norse.

We couldn't turn back. I gazed out over the water. The river was still too wide to try to ford. My heart sank into disbelief. How many Vikings were there? Would they move on? Did it matter? We couldn't stay there. My legs were numb. We were both freezing, and Edward was running out of strength. I had to find us shelter. We had to get out of the water.

Praying the breezes stayed on our side, keeping the sounds of our struggles upwind, we squelched through the rushes, their razor-sharp edges slicing across my arms. We rounded the jut in the shoreline, and I stared openmouthed at the sight before me. Even in the pale moonlight,
Raven's Blood
was unmistakable. The ship had been dredged up on shore, and its muted hues of red framed the shadow of a raven as the sail undulated in the breeze. I had never seen a more beautiful sight.

He was alive! He was here! I stumbled to the shore, pulling Edward with me. “Alrik!”

Edward fought hard against my hold, his eyes wide with panic. How could I explain to him they would help us?

“It's all right. I know these men.”

“They are Vikings.” His voice was a frantic whisper.

I spied a fair-size boulder peeking out from amongst the reeds near the bank and steered us in that direction. I set him on the rock, his body sagging. “I will be right back. It's okay.”

He grabbed my skirt, fisting the fabric. “How can you say that? They are monsters. You are unarmed.”

“Trust me.” I pried his fingers loose and pushed through the cover of vegetation, clambering up the muddy bank, churned up by recent footsteps. I froze as I made eye contact with two Vikings. Both were savage looking and fully armed. We all stared at one another.

“Völva!”
the taller of the two men said, before stepping backward.

His companion, shorter yet no less broad, stood his ground, a look of wary disbelief painted on his pale face.

I thought to explain myself, to ease their concern that I wasn't a witch, but didn't know how I could convince them otherwise. I had suddenly appeared from out of the river, wearing a flowing white gown stained with blood. “Where's Alrik?” I asked breathlessly instead.

The tall Viking continued to stay where he was, but his companion stepped closer. He studied me closely. “I remember you,” he said slowly.

“Yes,” I said, hopeful. “I was with Alrik when he visited England last summer. I blessed you for battle, shared your wine.”

The tall Viking stepped forward. “You are the Saxon spy, the witch?”

I looked between the two men. Did I recognize either one of them? Dear gods, was Halfdan here? I remembered the handshake between Demas and the redheaded villainous scum. They were in business together. I stared at the red sail. This was Alrik's ship. He would never have given it up while there was still breath left in him. My heart sank. Alrik wasn't there. Halfdan was. My legs collapsed beneath me, and I dropped like a stone into the mud. Alrik was truly dead. I felt drained. The cold hit me with gale force, and I shivered uncontrollably.

The shorter Viking laughed and slapped his companion on the back in good cheer. “It is the lady herself.” He threw his cloak over my shoulders. Pelts had been sewn onto a soft wool lining, and captured body heat radiated from the fabric. “Praise Thor! I didn't recognize you,” he said. “My name is Cormac, and this lout is Olaf.” Olaf nodded and stepped back into the shadows, guarding the ship, seemingly unconcerned and uninterested in the matter. Cormac continued, “I was with Alrik when he came to see you through the summer. I was with him when he landed in Reading. He has come a long way to find you, lady.”

“Alrik's here?”

“Yes.” He offered me his hand, and I took it, standing slowly, my head spinning.

“He's alive? But I saw him, swarmed and outnumbered. I feared him dead.”

He laughed. “It would take more than an army to kill Alrik. Though it was his brother Ubbe who finally put an end to it. Halfdan was mad as a dog, but as Ubbe is the elder, he was obliged to leave off.”

“They let Alrik go? Let him leave?” It seemed unbelievable. I wondered if I had fallen into the river, my life draining from me. If I hadn't been able to feel every ache in my body and hear the clicking of my teeth chattering, I might have pinched myself for a dream.

“Ubbe wouldn't permit the blood of their father to be shed. So”—he shrugged—“they sent Alrik into exile. Anyone wishing to sail with him could cast their lot with the traitorous scoundrel.”

“Where is he?” The forest was silent and black around me.

“Waiting for you! Come, I will take you to him.”

“My brother,” I said helplessly, gesturing to the reeds. “He's badly hurt. I won't leave him.”

“Olaf will put him aboard the ship and tend to his wounds.”

“Thank you.” I led them through the water back to the rock.

At our approach, Edward scrambled off the rock and stumbled backward, falling into water.

“Edward, please. These men will help you.”

He stared wide-eyed at me. “What have you done?”

“I know this is difficult for you to understand, and I realize after all you've seen and experienced in Francia, you may not believe my words, but these men are not our enemy. They have come here to find me. Their leader is a powerful jarl; his name is Alrik. A man I have fallen in love with.”

His mouth hung open.

Olaf grumbled, clearly impatient, and grabbed Edward by the scruff of his collar and lifted him up over his shoulder.

Edward immediately starting swinging his fists and flailing his body. Olaf grunted. “Tell him to be still or I'll make him complaisant.”

I hesitated. I didn't want to frighten Edward further, but I didn't have time to make him understand. “Edward. If you do not be still, they will force the matter.”

His jaw tightened and his eyes loosed arrows of hurt and betrayal my way, each one finding their mark on my heart.

“I'm sorry.”

Olaf carried Edward back to the ship, his progress no longer hindered by signs of protest.

“Come; Alrik is waiting.” Cormac roused my attention away from Edward. “He will be sorely pleased to see you. In his fury to take you away from this place, Alrik had us row like Jormungand was chasing us. Your brother will be on the ship waiting for your return.”

Alrik was here! The aches in my body vanished, the fatigue disappeared, the shiver subsided, and the cold melted away. I looked upon Edward one last time and followed Cormac into a labyrinth of trees.

The farther we walked, the more I could see. An orange miasma hovered above the treetops ahead. I stopped dead. We were heading back to the manor! I looked in the direction of the ship. What if this Viking was leading me into a trap, his words a lie set to ensnare me? What if Halfdan was sitting at Demas's table just waiting for my deliverance? Had I not learned anything? After all that had happened, I was still quick to act without thinking.

Cormac sensed my hesitation and stopped.

“Why are you leading me back to the manor? Where's Halfdan?”

Even in the pale light, I could see Cormac's eyebrows draw together. “Halfdan is in Reading. Alrik is here with sixty men. He has laid siege to the manor.”

I wanted to believe him, but my insides roiled and churned. I scanned the darkness, looking for the best means of escape. Where could I go? The sound of metal hissing across a scabbard brought my focus back to Cormac. I gripped the edges of the cloak, preparing to run.

“I am your sworn man, lady. Take the sword.” He set the steel down in front of me, the moonlight catching on the broad flat surface. More metal slid against leather. “My knife is yours. Peace!” He placed it alongside the sword.

I lunged to grab the weapons, but rather than fight or try to stop me, Cormac knelt in the twigs and forest detritus and bowed his head. “I am your sworn man, lady. May Odin strike me down if I fail you.”

He could have killed me, snapped my neck in two, forced me to the ground, raped me, tortured me, and brought me to Demas or Halfdan. Was he telling the truth? Gods, could I trust him? Could I trust anything?

In the silence of the forest, the wing beats of a large bird swooped over my head. A black outline perched on a black branch. The raven croaked. The world waited, watching.

“Alrik is here.”

I blinked, uncertain if it was the raven or Cormac who had just spoken, and I stared at the bird. “Alrik is here.” Gods! Why hadn't I seen it sooner? The raven on the wagon at Reading told me Alrik was coming. The raven on the windowsill at Wareham told me Alrik was there. The raven in my dream, begging me to fly away with him—Alrik had asked me to marry him, to leave England. I looked into the sky. “Blessed Goddess, thank you.” My heart beat in anticipation. Alrik was here!

“I will hold you to your oath, Cormac. May Odin and Thor banish you from Valhalla if you fail me.”

He rose slowly. “I will not fail you.”

Using the knife, I tore at the hem of my dress, pulling until a wide band of silk came loose. “Give me the scabbard for your knife.” I held out my hand. He placed the worn leather in my palm. I threaded the band through the loop on the scabbard and secured the silk around my waist. I sheathed the knife and gripped the sword. “All right, take me to Alrik.”

As we emerged from the forest, half the manor's buildings were in flames, but no one was rushing to tend to the blaze.