Chapter 16
In another world, another time, Raye might have enjoyed the trip to meet Kalfr.
It was a bright, sunny day, and Gaelfr’s route through the forest followed a narrow but serviceable path, twisting up and down hills and around ravines and boulders.
And Svein — who had never been on a long journey before — dashed and bounced and played as they went, with an exuberant glee that ought to have been contagious.
“Look, Mama!” he exclaimed, for what felt like the dozenth time that morning. “Look at that rock! Can I climb it?”
Raye nodded, and reluctantly smiled at the sight of Svein scampering up the large boulder, using his claws to help him with the steeper parts. And once he reached the top, he excitedly waved down toward them, beaming with flushed, innocent pride.
“Very good, son,” Gaelfr said beside Raye, raising his hand in a wave back. “Can you see Orc Mountain from there?”
Svein glanced toward the west, and his grin flashed brighter as he bounced on his feet. “I can, Papa!” he exclaimed, pointing with his claw. “It’s that way!”
Gaelfr nodded and smiled back, but Raye couldn’t muster up even a halfhearted response this time. Orc Mountain. Kalfr. They were moving closer and closer toward Orc Mountain, and meeting Kalfr. Today. Soon.
She dragged in a deep breath, and twitched at the feel of Gaelfr’s hand, settling brief to her shoulder. “Are you well, woman?” he asked, under his breath. “This pack is not too heavy, is it?”
Raye shook her head, and hoisted her makeshift pack higher on her shoulders.
Gaelfr had mostly given her clothes and textiles, while he’d insisted on carrying almost everything else himself, in a tangle of packs nearly as big as he was.
But he hadn’t once complained, or showed any signs of tiredness, either.
“What is amiss, then?” he asked, after a glance up toward where Svein now seemed to be following a bug around the top of the boulder. “Are you yet vexed over your weaving goods?”
Right. That had been another heated disagreement before they’d left, because Raye had been loath to leave all the valuable trappings of her livelihood behind — her spinning wheel, her costly, handspun yarn, the bolts of finespun cloth, even the huge, heavy loom itself.
But she had been forced to concede that it was all too large and cumbersome to transport, and instead Gaelfr had stashed as much of her yarn and cloth as he could into the tunnel under Svein’s bed, and had then shoved several heavy items in atop it.
“No, it’s fine,” Raye said, between gritted teeth. “We won’t be away for long, right?”
Gaelfr didn’t acknowledge that point, only frowning toward Svein on the boulder, while Raye’s alarm and unease churned higher.
Because in truth, there was no knowing how long this would take.
And no matter what, her cottage was now alone and unguarded, and despite the latched and barred door — which only Raye and Svein knew how to open — the men could return at any moment, and burn it all to the ground.
And what would Raye do then, especially once Gaelfr left?
Would Kalfr help her? If he showed up at all?
“Have you… caught scent of Kalfr yet?” Raye asked, with a furtive sidelong glance toward Gaelfr. “Or anything else?”
Gaelfr shook his head, though he kept his gaze on Svein. “Not yet,” he said. “But he will come.”
It sounded impossibly certain, perhaps foolishly so, because there was no way Gaelfr could really know, was there? What if Kalfr had spurned his bond not only with Gaelfr, but with her, too? What if he’d fully moved on with his new life? His new profession? His new woman?
It all roiled harder in Raye’s gut, and she fought the bizarre urge to ask Gaelfr if he still had that portrait he’d shown her.
So she could look into Kalfr’s eyes, and desperately try to see what whispered there.
Did he still hate her? Would he want to punish her?
What would he do, what would he say, would he yell or curse, would he refuse to speak, send them away forever…
“Catch me, Papa!” Svein called out, and Raye glanced up just in time to see Svein leaping off the side of the boulder, his arms outstretched. And though Raye’s heart lurched into her throat, Gaelfr chuckled and braced himself, and grunted as he caught Svein in his arms.
“Grant me more warning next time, son,” he said, but his eyes were warm, his lips curving up.
To which Svein only beamed back toward him, and Raye fought down the unnerving awareness of how relaxed, how familiar, the two of them already looked together.
Gaelfr now hoisting Svein up onto his hip, while Svein easily leaned into his side, and poked his claw at Gaelfr’s cheek.
“You smell different today, Papa,” he said, leaning in to sniff at Gaelfr’s face. “More like… like Mama. Mama smells more like you today, too.”
Raye didn’t miss the spasm in Gaelfr’s cheek, or his brief glance toward her. Because — oh. Svein could smell — their scents. From what they’d done last night. Damn it. Damn it.
Heat flooded Raye’s cheeks, and though she opened her mouth, nothing came out. She’d had age-appropriate discussions with Svein about such things, of course, but this particular development had never even occurred to her, and what did orc parents do about their offspring’s too-sensitive noses?
But Svein had already squirmed down out of Gaelfr’s arms, and snatched up a nearby stick. “It’s nice,” he said, over his shoulder. “Don’t you think, Papa?”
Gaelfr stiffly nodded, and cleared his throat. “Ach,” he replied. “Now, keep leading us, will you, son? Scent for the way ahead, as a good Bautul scout would.”
Svein eagerly nodded and skipped off up the narrow path ahead, banging his stick against tree trunks as he passed. While Raye let out a shaky breath, and forced herself to start moving again, falling into step with Gaelfr beside her.
“Young orcs cannot yet discern… detail, in such matters,” came Gaelfr’s quiet voice. “He shall only scent it as… closeness, between us. Belonging. His father would then speak more to him of this, as he grew older.”
That should have been a relief, but instead Raye’s dread and unease swarmed even worse.
Because he meant… Kalfr would have those conversations.
Not Gaelfr himself, since he was still planning to leave.
But there was still no telling what Kalfr would do or say, especially now that Raye and Gaelfr’s scents apparently now spoke of closeness, belonging, and now Kalfr would know that, too.
How much would he know, what would he say?
Mine, hissed Gaelfr’s distant voice, scraping through the mess of Raye’s thoughts. Gaelfr crouching over her face, burying himself deep into her mouth, feasting between her legs. Suck me, saeta. Feed yourself upon me. Every drop.
Raye rubbed both hands at her hot face, and forced herself to keep walking, holding her eyes on Svein up ahead.
She needed to focus on Svein, but how could she do this, how could she bear it?
Just walking, dragging her feet, step after step.
Waiting, pleading, dreading, Kalfr, Gaelfr was still leaving, she was doing this for Svein…
“Ach,” Gaelfr finally breathed beside her, and he halted mid-step, blinking glazed and strange up toward the path ahead. His nostrils flared again and again, his throat spasming, his face gone strangely pale and haggard in the bright light.
“What is it?” Raye asked, instinctively gripping his arm, while her already-pattering heartbeat began thudding through her ears. “You… do you smell him? Kalfr?”
But she already knew the answer, could read it too easily in Gaelfr’s eyes, in the tightness on his mouth. In the way his muscled forearm was rigid and unmoving beneath her fingers, as if he’d forgotten how to move, or breathe.
And as if… he was nervous about meeting Kalfr, too.
Uncertain. Afraid. And blinking up toward his pale face, it belatedly occurred to Raye that she hadn’t at all considered how Gaelfr must feel about this today.
How he hadn’t seen Kalfr in years, and how Kalfr would now scent Raye upon him.
And how Kalfr had broken his vows to Gaelfr, and started a whole new life, without him.
And curse her, Raye wasn’t… worrying about Gaelfr, was she? Sympathizing with him, feeling fully in accord with him? After everything he’d done? After he’d been the one to insist on coming here to begin with?
“Well, at least Kalfr won’t hate you,” Raye said thickly, with a squeeze of her hand to Gaelfr’s stiff forearm. “He’ll still be happy to see you, after so long. Right?”
Gaelfr’s mouth twisted, and he scoffed, shook his head.
“Kalfr has sent me not one message or letter, all these summers,” he replied, his voice hard.
“And he has scorned his vow to me, with this new woman. We were meant to share our women and bedmates together, and thus I have not touched any other since I left him, but for you. I have longed for him every night, and mourned and raged to the goddess over him, begged for strength to stay away from him, whilst he — he —”
He snapped his mouth shut, and dragged in a deep breath, his nostrils flaring, his lashes fluttering.
As if he still desperately needed even the scent of Kalfr, even though Kalfr had rejected him, and betrayed him.
And had Gaelfr truly missed him that much?
I have not touched another since I left him, but for you…
Raye’s hand had begun stroking Gaelfr’s arm, and her other hand settled against his waist. “But you’re still his ástvinur,” she said, through her constricted throat. “And you always will be. Right?”
Gaelfr drew in another deep breath, and let it out. “Ach,” he said, his shoulders slightly sagging. “And if he dares to speak one word of my scent upon you, I shall —”
He broke off there, because up ahead Svein had turned around, trotting back toward them. “Why did we stop?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
Gaelfr squared his shoulders, and waved for Svein to come closer. “I can scent your other father up ahead, son,” he said, with admirable steadiness. “We shall meet him in another league or two.”
Svein’s eyes widened, and he raised his nose to sniff at the air, his nostrils rapidly flaring. “He’s really that close?” he asked, high-pitched. “But I can’t scent him, Papa!”
“You will, son,” Gaelfr replied, with a pat to Svein’s shoulder. “Soon. He shall be most glad to see you, I ken.”
But Svein’s nostrils kept flaring, his eyes darting back and forth, and he looked almost as anxious as Raye felt. “But… how do you know?” he demanded. “He’s never come to meet me before! What if he doesn’t want to see me?”
It struck through Raye’s chest, stung behind her eyes, but Gaelfr’s eyes were flinty as he gently squeezed Svein’s shoulder. “Kalfr will want to see you, son,” he replied. “You are his son. His blood. His kin. His own.”
Svein nodded, but he still didn’t look convinced, biting at his bottom lip. “But what if he doesn’t… like me? What if I’m too small, or too stupid, or too messy? What if I’m not a good Bautul? What if that’s why he’s never come to see me?”
Oh, gods, had Svein truly been thinking all these things, all this time? Raye’s eyes were burning now, enough that she had to scrub at them, and fight to keep her breaths steady. While Gaelfr didn’t even flinch, and instead he knelt to meet Svein’s gaze, and gave his shoulder a firm little shake.
“Kalfr will love you, Svein, just as you are,” he said. “Ach, how could he not? You are kind, and clever, and eager, and strong. You are joy, and light, and a great gift from the goddess. You are all any Bautul could ever wish for in a son.”
His voice went hoarse by the end, rough with something too much like longing.
And when Svein hurled himself into Gaelfr’s arms, sniffling as he squeezed him tight, Raye had to choke down the sob hovering in her own throat.
Svein should have never, ever thought such things.
She should have done better by her sweet, precious son.
And what would come next? What would Kalfr say?
How angry would he be? Would he really still want Svein? What would become of them?
But there were no answers. Only more endless questions, more endless walking, now with Svein perched on Gaelfr’s hip, clinging to his side.
Adding what must have been considerable weight to Gaelfr’s already-heavy load, but apart from his slower steps, he still didn’t betray any sign of reluctance or complaint.
If anything, he only looked grimly determined now, committed to what he’d promised to do.
Helping them. Supporting Svein. Keeping his vows without hesitation, even in the face of his own unhappiness, his own fears.
It all kept churning and clashing in Raye’s gut, bubbling up with shame and regret and sheer dizzying terror. Kalfr. For Svein. Had to keep going, keep walking, for Svein…
Until finally, Gaelfr stopped. Blinked up ahead. While a trickle of sweat streaked down his temple, and his throat convulsed. And when Raye followed his eyes, her heartbeat battering her ribs, she found…
A figure. A tall, silent figure, waiting in the path ahead. The late afternoon light dappled across his form, hiding him in shadow, but it was…
“Greetings, ástin mín,” Gaelfr said, with a crack in his voice. “Now come, and meet our son.”