Chapter 45
Ten more days. Two hundred men.
The dread and alarm punched through Raye’s gut, but beside her, Kalfr didn’t look even slightly surprised. Instead, he nodded, and asked Joarr something about advance outriders — something Raye couldn’t at all hear through the buzzing in her ears.
Ten days, until Sybil would be here, at their byrgi. Until she tried to kill Kalfr, and likely kill them all, too.
“But — weren’t we supposed to have more time?” Raye’s shrill voice demanded, into the first moment of silence. “We were supposed to have two weeks!”
She was still clutching at Kalfr’s arm, and though he angled a sidelong look toward her, he didn’t reply.
While Joarr nodded, his mouth pursed, his claws drumming on the nearby altar.
“We hoped she would need to spend more time hunting for you, first,” he replied.
“This byrgi is far from the human roads, and it is not easy to find if you are not an orc, ach? But it seems she is now sure you are here, brother. One of her bands of mercenaries must have already scented you here, these past weeks, and we did not catch this.”
Raye glanced down toward that blood-streaked altar, while the dread plummeted deeper in her gut. Of course Sybil’s mercenaries had found Kalfr, because that was exactly what he’d intended them to do. He’d meant to give them a clear scent to follow, so he could offer himself up to his death.
“And Sybil plans to attack us here with her entire army, then?” Raye asked, her voice hollow. “With all two hundred men?”
She couldn’t even imagine it, two hundred strange men stomping through their forest, ruining their garden, trying to set their lovely byrgi on fire. And could they really withstand that? Could they hold out against two hundred men, for days, or weeks, or months?
“Some of the men yet ride ahead in separate bands, mayhap seeking any movement of your scent,” Joarr said, with a nod toward Kalfr.
“But ach, beyond this, they all seek to come here. They are well stocked and trained, and it seems this Sybil yet holds but one goal — to capture and kill you by any means possible, and see you suffer in this.”
Raye’s stomach churned harder, but beside her, Kalfr again just looked tired. Resigned. Accepting. As if he wasn’t surprised by any of this. As if he was still planning to walk straight toward his death, in ten days…
Joarr was eyeing Kalfr too, and clapped a hand against his shoulder. “But we will keep watching and tracking them, and keep seeking to parley with them,” he continued. “And you are making your own plans here also, are you not?”
Kalfr nodded, and briefly explained everything they’d decided on these past few days — the siege plans, the food storage, the defensive training — though again, Raye only half-heard it through the ringing in her ears.
Ten days. Two hundred men. A goal of capturing and killing Kalfr, by any means possible, and seeing him suffer.
But before them, Joarr was intently listening to Kalfr’s plans, and twitching the occasional thoughtful nod, his eyes distant.
“This seems wise, brother,” Joarr said, once Kalfr had finished.
“And you can yet retreat to the mountain, if all else fails. I shall speak to our kin, and bring more news soon. Goddess be with you.”
Kalfr gave another reply Raye didn’t hear, and Joarr strode off again, waving farewell as he vanished through the greenery. While both Raye and Kalfr stared in silence after him, Raye’s heart still wildly thumping in her ears.
“So — where does this leave us?” she asked, into the silence. “What should we do next?”
Kalfr shrugged, his eyes still blankly fixed on where Joarr had gone.
“This news has changed naught, for us,” he replied, his voice stiff.
“This is all as we already knew, all as Sybil has already sought to do. She has gained a few dozen more men, mayhap, and a few more days… but what does this alter?”
Right. Raye could almost taste his bitterness, his resignation, spasming at the back of her throat. He’d been expecting this, dreading this, all this time — and now it was coming. Not just for him, now, but for his band, too. His kin. His son.
And did that mean… it might give him even more cause to sacrifice himself to this, after all? More reason to hand himself over for his suffering, his death?
“Voreur!” called a distant voice, and when Raye and Kalfr both snapped to look, it was William, bursting out muddy and sweaty through the greenery, and flashing them a sheepish smile. “Could use you down below. Having some trouble with the well!”
Kalfr winced, and shot Raye a searching look, but she dredged up a smile, and waved him off toward William. “Go ahead,” she said thickly. “I’ll finish the survey, and let you know if anything needs your attention.”
Kalfr nodded and gave her a half-hearted smile in return, followed by a grateful squeeze to her arm.
And then he spun and jogged off, leaving Raye standing there alone by the altar, her thoughts still spinning, her eyes again wandering to the ugly black stain upon the stone.
The undeniable proof of Kalfr’s desperation, his loss — and that distinct proof of their pleasure, too, streaked all across it. Covering it.
“Please, goddess,” Raye whispered, as she traced her fingers against the cool stone. “Help me. Help us. Show us the way through this.”
There was no answer but the breeze, caressing her cheeks, tickling a few loose wisps of hair against her skin.
But as she kept standing there, stroking her fingers against the altar, she could feel her heartbeat slowing, her breaths deepening.
She’d sworn to do this. She’d vowed it, before the goddess.
And Kalfr had seemed to think the goddess would hear her prayers, hadn’t he?
So maybe there was still hope. Still time.
It was enough to settle her heartbeat a little more, and she set off on the rest of the survey, doing her best to check everything they’d noted the day before, and to follow up as needed.
But nothing seemed amiss, and once she headed back into the byrgi, she found Julian had just finished up the morning reading lesson.
Predictably, Svein was full of excited news to share, while Gaelfr looked as though he’d just fought his way through a vicious battle.
“Thank the goddess this is done,” he muttered toward Raye, once Svein had run off to stash his prized new papers in his bedroom. “Also, did I scent you and Kalfr at the altar? Were you seeking another ploughing before the goddess, mayhap?”
His mouth quirked up, and he patted Raye’s arse, as if he fully approved of such an activity.
And it took Raye a moment to collect herself, glancing around at where all the other orcs were dispersing, heading off to their afternoon tasks with thick slices of Grum’s buttered nut bread in hand.
“Well, Joarr stopped by with a report,” she told him, under her breath. “Ten days. And two hundred men.”
Gaelfr’s brows snapped together, his mouth tightening. “What else?” he demanded, in a low hiss. “Tell me all of this.”
He softened the order with a caress of his hand to her back, and Raye recounted the rest of the news as quickly as she could, while Gaelfr listened in silence.
She even told him about how Kalfr had apparently been struggling to sleep, and how he’d been spending his nights attempting to pray at the altar instead.
“Ach, I thought I scented this upon him,” Gaelfr muttered, with a heavy sigh.
“But you must not fear, saeta. We will hold fast to our goals. We will keep guarding and readying this byrgi, and training our band. And we will keep helping Kalfr in this, also. We will do all within our power to address this.”
Right. Yes. It settled deeper in Raye’s chest, and Gaelfr gave another reassuring stroke against her. “Now, this has been more than enough fretting for one day,” he said firmly. “You ought to finally take some time for your weaving, and forget all this.”
Raye rolled her eyes at him, but the idea of weaving did sound admittedly lovely, and Gaelfr thrust a slice of Grum’s bread into her hand before nudging her off toward the loft.
“Also, Rurik wished to see Svein next,” he told her, “so I will take him to the sickroom now, whilst you begin your weaving. After this, I shall bring him out to the training-grounds with me, also.”
Even a few days past, Raye would surely have balked at the idea of Gaelfr taking her son to see a physician without her, and making plans for her son’s afternoon, too.
But in this moment, she only felt an undeniable gratitude, and the awareness, strange but certain, that she could trust Gaelfr to take care of Svein. She could.
So as Gaelfr headed downstairs to fetch Svein, Raye polished off her delicious bread, and climbed up into the loft.
With all the activity of the past day, she hadn’t made much progress on her tapestry, but it was all still here, waiting for her — the warped loom, the yarn, the needles and scissors, the pencil and paper Kalfr had brought her the day before.
Even her own lovely finished tapestry, looking down at her from its place of honour on the wall.
And the sight of it prickled behind her eyes, deepened her breaths. She could do this. She would.
Her next task was to sit down and properly draw the design she’d been vaguely formulating, and it felt surprisingly easy to sink into drawing again, envisioning the final tapestry hanging before her.
She wanted this piece to include flowers and greenery, following her family’s traditional style, but maybe she could include a few motifs from her time here at the byrgi, too.
Like the white trillium Gaelfr had tucked into her hair by the altar, and the pinecones she and Kalfr had harvested together, too.
And perhaps even the moon, shining full and dappled through the trees.