Chapter 24
ERANN
He’d been so relieved to see Sereh at the steading the next day.
He’d been forced to rest in what was hardly a cave, but it had kept him warm enough as true darkness coated the land during the night.
He realised his relief wasn’t just because she had his father’s journal.
She was alive. Scowling and fierce as ever, but alive.
They’d spoken for a long time, making plans.
They’d go to the Librarian. Maybe he’d be able to do something, finally, to clear his father’s name at the next Full Council.
Sereh shifted next to him. He remembered how warm her touch was when she’d handed him the journal.
How the air had felt hotter, like little lightning trails had sparked between them.
He wondered if she felt it as well. Even now he found it hard to focus on the men circling his home, with her lying beside him on the uneven snow of the ice-encrusted overhang that had protected his home for generation upon generation.
‘Are you sure you want to watch?’ Sereh’s voice was gentle.
She watched what was happening below but asked nothing else. He wasn’t sure whether it was because she knew no words would help or if she simply didn’t know what to say. Whatever the reason, he was glad of the silence and even more pleased another person would witness this atrocity.
He nodded.
Erann was unsure why he felt so compelled to watch.
He suspected what the men were going to do: burn down his home and remove the last physical trace of the previous jarl of the Eastern Quarter.
Their actions should forever crush him, but he felt oddly relieved to be proved right about Rankil’s character.
He’d spent the last eight rotations hating the man who’d exiled his father, while others had been beguiled by him, believing the lies he told about Erann’s father.
Now, Erann would have the proof that Rankil truly was as evil as he’d always thought.
Between that and Sereh’s testimony, there should be more than enough to damn him at the Full Council meeting.
The day was still enough that the voices of the approaching men could be distinctly heard complaining about the steep hill they needed to crest before reaching the steading, nestled in its depths, long before they came into view.
Erann found it impossible that after all his forebears had done for their people, it was going to take a few men to bring it all crashing down.
Admittedly, it also suggested Rankil only had these few men to rely on. The thought cheered him.
The people of the Eastern Quarter, for all their outward acceptance of Rankil, were disturbed by his recent actions.
As secluded as his family had become, they weren’t without friends and family.
They had always done their best to pass on any gossip about Rankil and what he got up to, even in this harsh land where travel was slow and decisions took even longer.
His uncle’s words reinforced his belief that Rankil wasn’t well liked.
Erann felt sure that this act of wanton destruction would only serve to make Rankil even more unpopular.
Thorkell had alluded to Rankil being less popular than Erann had assumed.
And the state of Rankil’s steading only served to reinforce the idea.
It was a pity so many thought only of their own gain when Rankil usurped his father’s role using fabricated charges against him.
Perhaps with a little more thought on the part of the other farmers, Rankil’s quest for power could’ve been stopped before it’d begun.
Erann was sure people had only gone along with Rankil’s ousting of his father through sheer boredom.
His people weren’t known for being particularly dynamic.
Their way of life had been the same for generations, and no one questioned it.
That was until Rankil came along and questioned everything.
‘Erann Ramonsson,’ a deep voice bellowed. It sent a jolt along his back, even though he was hiding away from the men.
‘Come out, Erann,’ another man called. ‘We’ve come for your steading.
’ There was a harsh laugh from the other men.
‘On the orders of Jarl Rankil, this steading is to be fired for being sited on land he claims as jarl.’ Again, Erann juddered.
Whatever Rankil had told these men, the only thing that truly warranted burning down a steading was if everyone within had perished and there was no one left to farm the land. That was clearly not the case here.
‘Don’t be shy, Erann Ramonsson,’ the first man shouted again. ‘We know you’re in there.’ Erann watched the group of men. They jostled one another, as though unprepared to carry out their threats.
Eventually, when they grew tired of shouting, Erann heard the outer door creak open.
‘Come out, come out, Erann Ramonsson,’ a large, heavyset man called, as he was pushed inside.
In a matter of moments, the man returned, shaking his head.
‘The weasel isn’t here,’ the man roared. ‘The jarl had it wrong. Erann’s not come this way. The place is deserted. Come on, let’s take what we can find before we set it afire.’
Erann wished them luck with that. He’d removed what he could. They’d not find the almost priceless family tools, hidden now in the deepest snow. He was aware of Sereh’s heavy breathing beside him. He sensed her rage on his behalf.
Suddenly, Erann wanted to leave.
‘I don’t want to see this,’ he muttered. But still, he didn’t move. He couldn’t drag his eyes away from the steading or from the noise of crashing coming from within. Were they going to steal the hearth? Take the table? Steal his mother’s chair? He wanted to weep.
‘Come on, Erann.’ Sereh pulled on him, her grip tight, a frisson of something reaching him, even though a cloak, tunic and her gloves separated them.
Too willingly, he shuffled down the overhang and retrieved his discarded backpack.
With silent tears streaming down his face, he turned his back resolutely on everything that had gone before, and looked questioningly at Sereh.
He didn’t want to risk talking in case the sound travelled back to the men.
She shrugged her shoulders, unsure which way to go.
He nodded in understanding and began walking back towards Vatna Jokull.
They continued in companionable silence.
The sun warm on his back, and his bulky shadow leading him onwards.
In the far distance the sun reflected off Vatna Jokull in an array of every shade of blue imaginable.
The glacier was timeless as it spilled through any gap in the steep mountains surrounding it.
Their footsteps directed them towards one of the easier passes onto the glacier.
He felt as though Vatna Jokull had always been his constant companion.
But was it really as immutable? Or would it also one day drain away before his eyes under the heat from the sun?
The breeze picked up as he walked. He felt his hair rise and then fall. He had that awful sensation of being watched again. No, followed.
He turned back sharply, expecting to see one of Rankil’s men in pursuit, and cried out in surprise.
A huge, winged creature, with enormous green eyes, hovered high in the sky behind them, golden hide glistening in the sunlight.
He stared straight at it. Then he blinked and shook his head. When he looked at the spot where it had been, it was gone. There was only a drift of darkening smoke.
‘It was nothing.’ He released his breath. ‘Just the smoke from the steading. They must have got it to light.’
Hallucinations were a sign of snow blindness. He had no time for a debilitating illness. He needed to reach the Library.
He sensed Sereh’s concerned glance. Erann kept his face blank, hoping to make her think she’d imagined his cry. He hurried to catch her, and they continued to walk towards Vatna Jokull.
It was only when they turned to face the already sinking pale-yellow sun that Sereh finally spoke. ‘Are you well, Erann? You’ve been through a lot.’
Erann considered his answer thoughtfully for a few moments before replying. He forced his tone to be light.
‘Honestly, I thought I’d feel broken. When we were up there watching them, I felt stunned, devastated.
But now… Now I feel relieved. Rankil’s done the worst he could.
’ Erann spoke slowly, the words a revelation to him.
‘Even so, I’m determined to make Rankil pay for his crimes against my family.
You said you’d help me, and I feel sure we’re not alone.
Rankil doesn’t deserve the title of jarl.
We need to tell the truth of what he’s done.
Then, maybe, he’ll be removed. I know someone else will have to become jarl.
It can’t be me. Not after. Well, not after what’s happened to my father, but anyone has to be better than bloody Rankil. ’
Sereh gave a slight smile in the rays of the dying sun.
‘Just as long as you have a plan. It’s one thing to be out from under Rankil’s control, but quite another to build myself a life when I’m all alone.’
Erann looked at her with surprise. ‘You must have friends?’
‘Well, yes.’ And her voice was filled with sorrow. ‘But the people I was hoping would help me have perished during the Long Night.’ The pain in her voice caught as she finished the sentence.
‘Where were these people based?’
‘South of Vatna Jokull.’
Erann felt his heart sink. It would be too much of a coincidence, but then, their meeting on Vatna Jokull was also a coincidence. ‘Were they the Sweinssons?’
Sereh nodded sadly, then asked in a choked voice, ‘Did you know them?’
‘Not exactly. I came across a farm. Everyone had perished.’
Sereh stopped walking and rounded on him, eyes narrowed. ‘It was you who left them half burned?’
But Erann was shaking his head.