Chapter 15 #2
An unexpected knock on the outer door had Erann turning towards it. It was so loud it was audible over the crackling of the fire, the howling of the wind and the chopping of Anya’s knife.
Erann felt his mouth drop in shock. Who could be outside in weather like this?
His father rushed down the ladder towards the door, concern on his face. It was unheard of for anyone to be out at this time of the Long Night. Whoever it was shouted above the screeching of the wind, as they banged on the outer door for entry so loudly it sounded like Thor himself.
His mother jostled awake. The baby began to cry.
His sister, Aras, rushed to her mother’s side, fear on her face.
As his father fumbled with the wooden bolt of the outer door, Erann ran to remove the wads of rags.
The door caught the fierce wind and flew open into Erann’s face, knocking him to the floor, unconscious.
He opened his eyes, the blue glow surrounding him even brighter.
He still felt warm. He still didn’t know where he was.
The memory of his recent survival, against the odds, brought him enough comfort to close his eyes in sleep once more.
Perhaps, when he woke, his father would be here, with him. He’d like that.
The wind drove at Erann, unrelenting in its intensity and bone-numbing chill.
He couldn’t understand it. It had been still for more than two days.
If it hadn’t been, he’d never have risked venturing outside.
Now it reappeared, as if from nowhere, a ferocious, hungry beast, draining his body heat and leaving him rooted to the spot, too cold to even shiver.
The air was frigid as it attacked his lungs. Erann crouched, back pressed to his steading wall, hand clutched to the frozen guide ropes, unable to move.
Erann wanted to cry in frustration. He was so close to home, but he couldn’t reach it.
His muscles refused to obey. It was an effort to breathe.
It was an effort to keep his eyes open. Any moment now, Erann knew he’d be suffused with the warmth that came just before death.
He almost relished the thought of it. At least then he’d be warm.
With a guilty sob, Erann steeled himself. He couldn’t die here. His family needed him. They’d perish without him. He must fight the warmth.
Erann thought of his mother, dozing quietly by the fire, unaware of his plight.
He thought of his young brother, waiting patiently for his return and reading the family archive while he whiled away the time.
Surely, they’d heard the wind and wondered where he was? Surely, they’d come looking for him?
No. They wouldn’t. He knew that. His mother was frail and ill. His brother was too young and trusting in his older brother’s invincibility. They’d be shocked to find his frozen body when the Long Day began. If they survived until then without him.
Determination welled inside him. He refused to let this happen.
His family had already lost too much. He groped through the fog in his brain for the most pertinent God to pray to.
He’d not sought comfort from the old Gods since before his father’s exile, and it was an effort to recall to whom he should direct his prayers.
Finally, he settled on Thor, the strongest.
He bargained with the God as he muttered soft words.
‘If I live,’ he whispered through tight lips, ‘I’ll venerate you once more.
If I live, I’ll honour you with a sacrifice in the Long Day.
’ But his words were barely audible above the howling wind.
His legs remained locked in place. His breath came in smaller and smaller gasps.
He was becoming light-headed as well as frozen.
Snowflakes landed on his closed eyelids.
He had no strength to bat them away or open his eyes.
The slow warmth crept up his body. His remaining time was short. He couldn’t make himself care.
It was all so hopeless and such a waste.
Abruptly, he felt something on his sleeve. The wind, attacking him from a new direction. He ignored it. He felt it again. Then a warm breath whispered in his ear, setting his ear tingling uncomfortably.
‘Come on, Erann. This is not meant to be your ending. You must get up and walk with me. You must go with me, and I will get you back inside.’
Erann turned his head into the wind. A man stood before him, dressed in a white wolf fur cloak. The man smiled at him. His father.
‘Come on, Erann. I will help you into the steading. The wind will not beat you. I will not let it. Neither should you. I know it is hard, but you must come with me. Do not leave your mother and brother. They have need of you. You must get up and walk with me.’ The voice was strong and warm and inviting, bringing with it such soothing comfort. It brought strength to his legs.
Erann obeyed the words as though they were an order and forced himself upright, his thigh muscles screaming as he straightened from where he’d been crouched in the same position for so long.
With a deep breath, Erann turned again to look at the man before him, his long-missing father, and realised that with his help, he could make it home.
His father had been such a robust and dominating figure in his childhood. His return was precipitous. But as so often before, his father would ensure Erann didn’t fail.
‘This way.’ Erann could feel his father’s hand on his arm and another on his back, pushing him into the wind and towards the steading door.
Erann didn’t have time to think about how his father could stand the wind that was tearing at them.
He concentrated only on shuffling his feet slowly forward through the dense snow.
The wind screeched and howled, forcing Erann back against the wall.
‘Come on, son,’ his father’s voice entreated even above the howl of the wind. ‘Come on.’
Erann took another step. He would get inside.
He could already imagine the look on the faces of his mother and brother.
They’d be overjoyed to know his father was here and alive and had survived his seven rotations in exile.
He couldn’t believe his father was here.
Now. It felt like a miracle. Had his prayers to Thor worked?
Somehow, Erann managed to keep moving. At last the entrance tunnel door came into view. Even though it was pitch black outside and the door was solidly closed against the cold, light leached through the odd crack in the door and its frame.
‘We’re almost there, Father,’ he called over his shoulder. With a mighty effort, Erann reached the tunnel, hurried within, and banged on the inner door. This was the signal for his brother to open it.
As Erann snatched breath into his starving lungs, he became aware the comforting pressure on his arm and back had ceased once he sheltered within the tunnel. He stared around wildly, searching for his father in the darkness beyond.
‘Father?’
The inner steading door screeched open behind him, spilling soft light and warmth upon him.
‘Come on, Erann,’ Hakon called, his young face crinkling with concern. ‘By the Gods, it’s blowing fiercely. You shouldn’t have gone out in this.’
But Erann was unable to speak. He was pulled through the door and watched with dismay as his brother hurried to shove the outer door roughly back into place, shutting out the gaping dark.
‘Father, no,’ he gasped. ‘Stop, wait, Father is out there.’ But Hakon was too busy wedging the inner door shut to hear him.
His brother bent to seal the crack at the bottom of the door with an old fur to keep the draught from seeping in.
Erann fell back; his exhaustion returned. His limbs felt heavier than ever. Slowly, he sank to the floor and lost all awareness.