Chapter 15 Solveig
Luck was on her side still. The quick glance revealed no evidence of a camp outside the cave. No one walked around, thank the goddesses. With more confidence, she peered through the opening again and this time studied as much of the surroundings as she could.
They were situated in the same forest she’d trekked through on her way to the mortal village, she was sure of it. The same pine-blanketed ground gave way to large tree roots covered in moss. Solveig recoiled from the brightness of the sun high in the sky. She willed her eyes to adjust quickly.
Every second she delayed could mean her last, she couldn’t afford to linger. She was grateful for the pine needles to cushion her bare feet—they would hide her tracks well enough.
Stepping fully outside, the cool breeze caressed her face for the first time in months.
Moisture gathered in her eyes at the forgotten sensation.
Though there wasn’t time, it was a gift she could not pass up, closing her eyes and breathing in the fresh air.
She did not hold back the tears falling freely down her face.
Until a noise came from inside the cave. He was starting to wake.
Shit.
Solveig hurried forward and took in her surroundings.
The river he’d spoken of whooshed close by, the sound of water rushing over rocks a balm to her ears.
This was her best option for escape. She was making her way to it when the sound of voices approaching stopped her heart. She was running out of time.
There was no way she could make it to the river without being spotted. Studying her prison, it was less a cave and more a huge pile of rocks gathered in a heap, creating large nooks and crannies at the base of a massive mountain.
Her cave was composed of three large boulders piled on top of each other, forming an archway of sorts.
Heaps of rocks in all shapes and sizes were scattered all around like the forest had welcomed them with open arms. The stone must have been here for ages, as tree roots and moss covered the tops.
It was as if a Giant of old had a tantrum and threw a mountain at the forest.
Solveig smiled as she began to form another plan.
When they would inevitably find the cave empty, save for his body, they would assume she’d run. Instead, she hurried away from the cave, tucking herself into one of the hundreds of hiding spots close by, the smallest one she could find where she could observe her captors.
She’d just managed to conceal herself when Water came around the corner and entered the cave. Solveig silently thanked the Hamingja who must be watching over her—her luck was nothing short of miraculous. Though her road to freedom would be long and arduous, she was as safe as she could be. For now.
Water disappeared into the cave and almost immediately retreated, running in the opposite direction. A roar came from the shadows as he stormed out.
“PUPPET!” he screamed, whipping his head around.
Terror washed through her veins at the sound of violence in his voice. She held as still as possible, barely breathing. Cold rocks bit into her bare back, but she didn’t dare move a muscle lest the chains on her wrists should rattle.
Fast footsteps echoed as Fear came tearing through the forest, Thick and Stick on his heels. Solveig swore under her breath. They were all still completely garbed in black.
“What the fuck happened?” Fear grabbed him by the shirt, slamming him against the side of a boulder.
“Her chains weren’t locked properly!” He quivered as Fear lifted him off the ground and smashed his head into the rock, knocking him out cold.
Solveig smirked but stiffened as Fear scanned the area, his head moving slowly in all directions.
She could only hope the fabric covering his face hindered his sight.
“She can’t have made it far, I left not ten minutes ago. If she was smart, she’d head towards the river.” He kept his voice gruff and low, addressing the other three. “Who was in charge of relocking her irons yesterday?” He towered over them causing them to shrink under his wrath.
Water spoke first. “Weren’t you the last to see her before Booth went in today?” she asked in a small voice.
Booth. Solveig didn’t like him having a name. It didn’t matter. He was marked for a shallow grave.
“What do you want to do?” Thick said, not sounding nearly as scared as the others.
“Split up. She’ll be weak, which will make her careless. We don’t know what kind of training she’s had, but after three months of captivity, it won’t matter.”
“Should one of us stay here in case she’s hiding close by, waiting for night?” Stick suggested, scanning the area. His face passed right over where Solveig hid, and her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest. The traitor.
“I doubt she’s thinking that clearly. She’d want to escape as fast as she could,” Fear replied, shaking his head. Solveig was grateful he’d underestimated her. “Let’s gear up. We’ll each take a direction and search for her.”
Even though she couldn’t see his face, Stick’s body language indicated he wanted to argue but Fear shut him down. “Do not come back until you find her.”
They nodded and moved as a group back in the direction they’d come from.
Fear brought up the rear, surveying the area once more as if checking to make sure she wasn’t there. Did his face slow when he turned her way? No, it was only her panic getting the better of her. He finished his inspection before jogging to catch up to his companions.
Solveig let out a sigh of relief. They weren’t coming back here. And Booth was still lying on the ground, unconscious.
Once she was sure they were gone, she freed herself from her hiding place and found her footing. Solveig moaned as she stood. She never thought she’d be grateful just for being able to stand upright. For the first time, true hope bloomed in her chest.
There was a small pack next to the opening of the cave. The scent marked it as Booth’s. It was stuffed with food and knives, but no clothing. As much as she didn’t want to go back in the cave, she couldn’t stay out in the open on the off chance one of them disobeyed an order and came back.
Once inside the mouth of the cave, she weighed her options as she ate some of the lunch Booth had packed. She needed all the strength she could muster, but her stomach couldn’t handle so much food at once. She resolved to save the rest and ration it out—it could take days to make it back home.
When it had been a while since the others left, she deemed it safe to move around outside the cave. Walking over to Booth, she smiled as she stood over him—the keys to her chains hung from his belt. The release of her iron manacles was remarkably better than even the wind on her face.
Solveig took his hammer in one hand before kicking him for good measure. He was out cold. She spent precious minutes using her weak body to drag Booth back into the cave. The one time he stirred, she gleefully smashed his head with the hammer.
Even though it revolted her, she stripped him naked and dressed in his clothes.
All but the black mask. She didn’t have the strength to lift and hang him from the hook, but the anchors in the ground would do just as well.
She shackled him lying on his back. Once situated where he could never touch her again, she chuckled at the proof of her suspicions lying in front of her.
He’d been overcompensating for his lack of manhood.
Solveig brought the hammer down on the small part of him that he was compensating for, the pain jolting him awake. The gag in his mouth ensured he couldn’t make too loud a sound.
He thrashed and struggled against the irons, locking eyes with her in the fading light.
They were a brown so dark they were almost black.
His sandy-brown hair was shoulder-length and matted to his head with blood, sweat, and dirt.
He was muscular but oddly proportioned for an Idavoll Fae.
His torso was long and his legs were quite short, too short.
His pointed ears marked him as at least half Elven, but Solveig wondered if perhaps the other half was not Vanir.
It didn’t matter—the venom in his eyes turned to ice cold fear as she brought the hammer gently to his chin. She would not gratify him by speaking, he would not get to hear her voice, her intentions clear in her eyes.
I wish I had time to savour this.
She didn’t, though. The sun was setting and she had to start moving. Hopefully the others were long gone by now and she’d have a clear shot to the river.
Still, she needed him to suffer, and she wanted to enjoy it while she had the chance.
Dragging the hammer across his chest and to his hip, she relished in the quickening of his breaths.
Testing the weight of it in her hand, she brought the hammer down, shattering the bone.
He tried to buckle over but the short chains prevented him, the gag muffling his scream of pain. She wished she could hear it.
She did the same to the other side. Tears flowed down his cheeks, urine soaking the ground beneath him as he wheezed.
When she brought the hammer down again, she caught the horror in his eyes. She knew that look—felt it in her soul.
Every time he tortured her, she’d braved that horror, endured the sickness in her stomach that a person could do such horrible things and enjoy it. Her anger faded, and she was left with a hollow chest. Though she had killed and tortured, she had never once taken delight from the acts.
Standing, she grasped the hammer as her magic swirled under her skin. She was beginning to learn the feel of it again, trusting in its warnings and its comfort. She was safe for now—she did not have to fear him anymore.
Though her desire for revenge was a living, breathing entity urging her on, Solveig removed herself, looping the hammer through her belt.
Booth tried to call out through his gag, but she couldn’t pick out the words, not that she would listen if she could. Solveig kept moving, not looking back.
She strode out of the cave for the last time, picking up the pack and slinging it over her shoulder. She checked that the knives were sheathed, her own dagger among them, and placed a hand on the hilt of the hammer, a comfort settling around her.
It was time to go home.