Chapter Twenty
The blizzard raged for three days. The men stayed inside the mounds most of the time, only venturing outside for hurried calls of nature and to ensure that the ventilation holes on the hills were clear of snow. Otherwise, the travelers might as well have been hibernating.
Finnvid kept to the Elkati mounds as much as possible.
He fried the remains of the deer meat, rubbed fat on his wind-burned skin, and stared at the white walls.
Sometimes he crawled to the opening of the mound and looked out at even more white.
There seemed to be a fog over the whole world, a swirling, confusing mass.
Then he tried to dismiss such frivolous notions and find something constructive to do with his time.
Andros came to visit once, dragging most of the deer remains with him, and showed Finnvid how to render fat and boil the bones to make a rich broth.
It was frustrating work with the limited amount of heat Andros would allow inside the snow mound, but it gave Finnvid a little more knowledge—albeit knowledge he would never use once he returned to his real life—and he was glad of the distraction, and suspected that Andros knew it.
Late in the afternoon of the third day, Gunnald came to find Finnvid and told him the wind was dying down; if it stayed calm, they’d set out again the next morning.
Finnvid wasn’t sure how to take the news.
He wanted to leave the camp, of course, wanted to get home safely.
But while they were stuck in the snow, he could still dream that there was some escape for him.
Once they started moving again, he’d feel like he was marching to his doom.
He’d thought about running away, or refusing to go back.
But he couldn’t do it. His valley was facing a crisis, and he’d been entrusted with helping to find a solution.
His first real responsibility, the first time he wasn’t being treated as a child or an afterthought.
He needed to go home, and make his report, and consult with his brother about the best way to face the Torian threat and capitalize on the divisions within the empire.
Finnvid needed to be an adult and ignore the divisions within himself.
So when the next morning dawned cold and clear, he joined the other men in pulling on their outer layers and packing up the camp. It was strangely sad to leave the cramped quarters behind; the mounds hadn’t been fancy, but had been home, at least for a little while.
As usual, Theos walked with the Sacrati at the front of the procession.
Finnvid let himself watch, let himself dream.
If the world were different, Finnvid could jog ahead and walk with Theos—and be scolded for distracting the man from his job.
But that would be its own victory because the scolding would come with a smile and a reluctant kiss, and Finnvid would know that he was interesting enough to be a distraction.
As it was, in this world, Finnvid may as well have been a snow-covered tree for all the attention Theos paid him.
Which should have been what he wanted, of course.
Even with all the new snow they kept up a quicker pace than before the storm; clearly the rest had done them good.
The Sacrati took turns breaking the trail, then the Torian soldiers packed the snow down, and finally the Elkati soldiers strengthened the packing.
By the time Finnvid strolled along the trail, he might as well have been walking down a paved road. Almost.
That night, unfortunately, he denned up near a couple who weren’t tired at all.
He couldn’t identify them, not by their voices alone, but he had no trouble identifying their activity.
The soft voices, the deep chuckles, then the gasps and moans and grunted half words.
It was nothing new; since coming to live with the Torians, he’d grown used to their lack of modesty.
But somehow, this time it all seemed more poignant.
Those sounds, unnatural? Unsophisticated, maybe. Hell, he’d even say uncivilized, and not expect much argument from anybody. Something this natural could only be uncivilized. Unvarnished, undisguised, honest, real.
Finnvid burrowed through his layers of clothes and tugged and squirmed and fought his cock free; he moved his hand in time with the other men and imagined that Theos was there with him.
The strength, the aggression, the tenderness and humor.
And, yes, the arms, the chest, the ass, and the cock.
All of it. All natural. He gasped as he came, pictured Theos gazing down on him with affection and warmth, then drifted off into a contented sleep.
The next morning when he wriggled out of his den, he wasn’t completely shocked to see that one of the men crawling from the tunnel next to his was Hrodi.
When the Elkati realized Finnvid had seen him, he went pale and then flushed.
He turned and scurried away without a backward look at his partner, and the Torian shook his head and grimaced in Finnvid’s direction.
“Do you all enjoy being so stupid about it? Is there something exciting in pretending it’s forbidden?”
The Torian stalked off before Finnvid had time to answer, which was just as well. Anything he said would only have ended up getting him in trouble.
They marched on. The grind wore away at Finnvid, but for the first time he was aware of how it wore at the rest of them too.
They all trudged; they all kept their heads down and their thoughts to themselves.
Instead of being lost in his own fog, he found himself joined with the others in a huge migration of exhausted beasts.
It was no less tiring, but at least he didn’t feel so alone.
They slogged through that day, and the next one. And there was one after that, and then another, but at that point everything was blurring together. He was keeping up on the hike and functioning in camp; that was all.
One afternoon the snow became wetter and not as deep and the trees faded away, leaving open spaces. He was in a valley. His valley.
He noticed a Sacrati, Andros from the look of it, break away from the pack and head into the forest. Calls of nature were usually answered a few strides off the path, not deep in the woods. What was Andros doing?
Finnvid was still puzzling over that when he saw the small hut the Sacrati had stopped by, and the sentries from the building jogging toward them, swords drawn, searching for an Elkati in charge.
Finnvid was suddenly dizzy and had to fight to stay on his feet.
Now that he was home, back in the Elkat valley, it was as if all his hard-won strength had deserted him, and he was ready to collapse and be taken care of.
But his spine stayed straight, held erect by determination he hadn’t known he possessed. He stepped forward, ahead of Gunnald, and said, “I am Finnvid. These are the men who left with me in the summer. We have returned.”
The sentries squinted at him in disbelief, and he remembered he was wearing ragged clothes with wind-burned, chapped skin showing about an almost-full beard. Of course they didn’t know him.
How ironic it would be to travel all that distance and be turned away at the gates of his home.
But then Gunnald was recognized, and Zenain presented papers to the sentries with an order that they be sent by runner to the castle.
Now they knew who Finnvid was, there was talk of waiting at the sentry hut for a sleigh to come out and convey him home, and various people had various opinions on the topic, so Finnvid started walking.
He was dimly aware of men falling in behind him: the Sacrati. Maybe they were expressing solidarity, or maybe they were just tired of standing around. But they were there.
The others must have joined the procession, although he never turned around to check.
For a while, his eyes were busy absorbing the familiar sights of home: the snow-covered pastures, the croplands, the orchards, and the villages.
Unlike Windthorn, the Elkat valley was designed for prosperity, not defense.
The castle was fortified, yet everything else—everyone else—was spread out in the places where the work was done.
Instead of a single walled city, there were several smaller villages, protected by nothing but a guard post. With his newly trained eyes, he could see how exposed the valley was.
There were certainly advantages to the Elkat system.
If he’d been tired enough or shameless enough, he could have ducked inside one of the larger houses in the first village and waited for that sleigh to come pick him up.
If he made it a little farther, to the next village, there’d be a rough inn, one used by traders who couldn’t drive their caravans all the way to the castle market in time for nightfall.
But he hadn’t walked all that way to quit right on his doorstep.
So he kept moving, and as the sun was setting, they reached the castle itself.
Rough stone, few windows, a moat and a drawbridge; finally, the Elkat valley was showing its defenses.
Of course Finnvid knew, and was sure the Torians could tell, that the castle wasn’t large enough to have much food or water stored.
It could protect its inhabitants from quick raids, yet it would never stand up to a patient siege.
And Torian invaders were known for their patience.
“You’re home, Prince Finnvid,” Ekakios said. Finnvid turned to see the Sacrati step off the path. “We’ll leave you here, safe.”
“You need to resupply,” Finnvid protested. “Rest, too, even if you only stay one night.”
“It’s not necessary,” Ekakios said.
Then Zenain strode forward, and leaned in so only Ekakios and Finnvid could hear him.
“We should stay the night,” he said firmly.
“My men need the break, and the supplies. If they know the Sacrati are out here, it will create resentment, and we don’t need that right now.
Bring your men in, and let them have a few drinks with their comrades before we head for home. ”
Ekakios frowned. “Our hosts may not appreciate having a band of drunken Torians under their roof.”
“So tell your Sacrati to control themselves. Surely their famed discipline can extend that far?”
“The Sacrati are not my chief concern,” Ekakios said pointedly.
“They should be.” Zenain’s voice was close to a growl. “They should be your only concern. Do not overstep yourself.”
“I’m sure it won’t be a problem,” Finnvid interjected.
“We have a Great Hall, where traders and travelers of all sorts feast and then sleep in the summer. And the messengers will have told my brother we were approaching; he’ll have food prepared for us.
” He grinned as he saw Ekakios’s wistful expression.
“Roasts, and vegetables and fresh bread, and wine and ale, and cake and fruit. A feast. He’ll be most put out if he has no one to share it with. ”
Ekakios looked at the castle, then at his men, and finally shrugged acquiescence. “I wouldn’t want him to be put out.”
Finnvid knew the wave of relief that washed over him was a sign of a larger problem, but he chose to ignore it, focusing instead on keeping his gaze away from Theos. He waved an arm somewhat grandiosely toward the castle and told the men, “Please, come inside. Welcome to Elkat Castle.”
The men trailed in behind him, and he glanced around to see the Torians staring at the building: the mosaics on the wall, the light wells and the gas-powered lamps, the mirrors and carpets, and the soaring staircase in the main entry.
It was much fancier than they were used to, maybe fancier than anything they’d ever seen.
But, he realized, that wasn’t why they were staring. At least, not why the Sacrati were. They were assessing the defenses, scanning for hazards, memorizing the terrain and searching for advantages. And maybe that was why they were the first to become alarmed.
Finnvid saw the Sacrati step to the sides of the grand entry hall, looking for shelter, and followed their gazes to the archers in the upper gallery. “No, it’s fine,” he said with a laugh. “It’s not unheard of for them to be there; just security, nothing to worry about.”
He peered ahead and saw his brother step into the entry hall, his deep-purple, fur-lined coat swinging as he moved.
“Alrik,” Finnvid said in greeting, and he strode forward as his brother raised his arms for an embrace.
The embrace was stronger than usual, almost fierce, more like wrestling than hugging, and Finnvid had to stagger to maintain his balance.
And then he was yanked forward—his brother was dragging him out of the entry hall! Finnvid struggled, but he was too shocked and confused to be effective. He heard screams from behind him, roars of anger, pounding feet, metal clashing against metal.
The archers. The archers were firing on the Sacrati. And Finnvid couldn’t stop them.