Chapter 17 Calder
CALDER
Kaldrgataness, Skalor
The creaking of the longship along the early morning current is the sole source of comfort Calder takes as they sail into the dark waters of the Bay of Souls.
The gateway to Skalor.
What little sun rays that illuminate the dark clouds overhead cast a faint glow on his ship.
Curled under the bow is a bound Isabel, a hunk of canvas draped over much of her body for warmth.
Thora sits near their prisoner, her back upright, head lolling gently in a light sleep—a throwing knife clutched in each hand.
Pipe smoke swirls around the mast where Edmund leans, silently drinking in his surroundings.
And then there is the youngest Treland Princess.
Aura slumbers against the side of the hull within his sight. She and Thora still wear their matching styled gowns from the Farewell Feast. Hardly enough to keep warm in Skalor, even in early fall.
The closer they sail to Kaldrgataness, the colder the air becomes.
Suddenly, her body convulses from the chilled air. Even in sleep, she cannot escape the bone-biting wind of Skalor.
Quietly, he collects his grizzly bear cloak–stashed away in the stern–and kneels beside her, gently laying the fabric over her body. He places a hand on her forehead, his thumb brushing against her bright pink nose, frigid from the cold.
She pledged herself to me. Using the Drengr blood oath.
As he strokes her cheek, recalling the intensity of her gaze, he is certain she knows the implications of her actions.
The daughter of the Lord Commander of the Drengr army has given a blood oath to the Iss Drengr of Skalor.
An act worse than my king, her father, learning that I was fingers deep inside her cunt.
As if their adventure was not already fraught with enough perils, now they‘ll soon have Sigvid on their ass.
Once her little snores recommence, he returns to the steering oar, choosing to ignore the blatant judgment Edmund tosses his way.
He senses the Gothi shifting his stance and slips to the stern beside him.
“Do you want to discuss whatever that was?” He nods to Aura.
Calder doesn’t respond or avert his gaze from their course.
“I know you spent every waking moment at her side from the second we arrived in Treland. Consider me impressed that you did so without alerting Uncle Sig.” He leans closer, lowering his voice. “Let me drink the tea.”
The Iss Drengr raises a brow.
Edmund nudges his arm with his elbow. “Loosen up, my tightly wound companion. I know you are not so archaic as not to understand my meaning. Let me in on the gossip. I’m a Gothi, for gods’ sake.”
“Hardly.”
“Did you actually manage to fuck a daughter of Sigvid?” His hands fly up in defense. “She is my cousin, so no envy here, but the sheer audacity is remarkable.”
Calder points to the horizon. “We are coming into port.”
He glances at the Princess, still sleeping against the side of the hull under his monstrous cloak. He watches the faint rise and fall of her chest and wishes he could save her from the chaos to come.
“Does the mighty and powerful Iss Drengr have a soft spot?”
Calder grunts. “Fuck off, Edmund.”
“On some level, it must be awkward. A Drengr of Sigvid and all the history you watched unfurl with her parents. Not to mention, you are old enough to be her father.” He picks at his cuticles. “My parents told me everything.”
“Fuck off, Edmund!” Thora’s terse tone has the Gothi leaping at her command.
“I see.” He shimmies back to the mast. “I will remember this when you all want to drink my tea!” He points between them.
“Noted.” Thora cracks her neck and fingers.
“What is your plan when we dock?” Thora does not bother reigning in her aggression. “She will be in danger from the other Jarls and the Queen. We all will be.”
Calder strokes his beard. “We need to disguise you two. They expect Edmund and me to return.” He glances around the ship. “I have an idea. Here, Edmund, steer the ship.”
“Oh, now you want me-”
Thora shoves him toward the stern. “One more time, Eddie, one more fucking time, and I’ll have Aura turn you into a toad again.”
That is seidr I would like to see.
Edmund scoffs, muttering about fly breath.
Calder kneels beside the Princess, gently waking her. “Aura.”
She stirs, blinking groggily. “Did we make it to Skalor?”
“Almost.” Calder sits her upright and carefully unravels her braid from her silver tiara. He wraps the headdress in a swath of cloth and safely packs it away in one of the few bags left aboard.
“What’s going on?” She catches sight of Thora and Isabel exchanging clothes, and realization dawns on her. “I imagine the Princess of Treland with her dark auburn curls is noticeable throughout the Endless Shore.”
“No one can match your beauty. That is true,” he whispers. “If you step off my ship as a free woman, there will be suspicion.” Calder tousles her hair, leaving it as untamed as possible.
Aura grips his wrist, her gaze flicking between him and Isabel. “She and Lavinia.” Her lips mouth the words. “Together.”
He nods in understanding with a grunt. She releases him, glaring at Isabel. Thora slices off random patches of the dress while the Manchineel curls her lip.
Naturally, she is working with the Queen.
“I have to dirty this dress.” Calder rubs any muck and sand he can into the fine crimson fabric. He rips random strips until the Princess looks worse for wear. After removing a thick section along the hem, he wraps her curls in it, keeping them out of sight.
“You can conceal her all you want, but Lavinia has little birds all over the country.” Isabel cackles.
Thora seizes a clump of her hair and shoves her head along the filth of the decking. “Smell that? It stinks like shit and fish, right? Better get used to it, Miss Manchineel. If Uncle Sig doesn’t rip your heart from your chest, you will be jailed with the other scum even after you birth your brat.”
They take on their faux roles as the Wicked Wyvern sails into the harbor. He guides them toward the distant western dock. This way, it will be easier for them to smuggle Isabel into the jail.
The townsfolk instantly recognize his wyvern figurehead. Shouts of joy and frustration hail them from the pier.
They can continue their journey once his and Edmund’s plan comes together. Gods-know, how long that will take.
Aura hangs over the ship, mouth agape as she absorbs the dramatic snowy mountain ranges and vast evergreen forests.
“Edmund,” he summons the Gothi while the others huddle at the bow, “assist Thora with our prisoner. Secure her in jail. I want the only key to her cell.”
The Gothi nods once before joining Thora.
“Princess.” He waves her to his side. Her bright, curious eyes search his.
The cold blade in his gut sinks further. I fucking hate that I have to do this.
“You are going to pose as my slave.”
“I thought slavery was illegal in the Endless Shore?”
He risks one final touch to her lovely cheek, trailing his fingers along her cheekbones to rest under her jaw. “No, pretty girl. You will find my mother has very much kept that practice alive. Much to my ire.”
She nods with far more confidence than he expected.
“We must keep your identity a secret. The Queen cannot know you are here. Give me your wrists.” Using his seidr, he fashions a set of ice cuffs over her sleeves, careful not to let the ice freeze her skin. “This must seem believable.”
A flash of uncertainty briefly passes over her features. Otherwise, she seems as hardened as any Drengr on a mission.
As they tie off, a crowd brews along the wharf. Men and women call out, already requesting audiences with their Jarl. After Chillbury, he sought to make amends by further opening his home to the people.
The consequence has nearly driven him to insanity.
He grabs the back of Aura’s neck and roughly drags her onto the pier, followed closely by Edmund, Thora, and Isabel.
The latter is far too content in her current state.
The others are lucky and shove through the crowd toward the jail while the mob fawns over the return of their Jarl.
“Who is this tasty morsel?” The town tanner, a young man with a notoriously wandering gaze, gropes at Aura’s side.
“Get off of me!” She shrieks, her head held high as she recoils.
She is unlikely to have ever seen an interaction with a slave. He sighs, stealing a glance at the horrified expression on her face. This situation is my fault.
“Head down.” Calder tugs her closer to his side while keeping his tight grip on the back of her neck. “Remain silent.”
“They are despicable.” She does not attempt to conceal her irritation and shoves away as one of the town drunkards grabs at her behind.
“This slave needs breaking, Jarl!” The drunkard smiles at her with his intermittent teeth.
“Is she to serve the town? Or will she become a pleasure slave?” One of the lesser Hold lords leans against a piling. “How did you leave with a slave without being mauled in Treland?”
“I’m more clever than you, Lord Harvart,” Calder notes every single one of them, recalling anyone who would dare to lay a hand on her. Although he cannot act now, he will make sure they never have another opportunity.
“Let him pass!” A familiar voice scatters the townsfolk. “There is my brother from another father. Understand? Because your mother is a whore?” Gunni slams him into a hug.
Calder returns the embrace of one of the few people he trusts with his life. “I would love to have you cook an elk steak.” He mutters their code to speak privately.
Gunni’s smile twitches, no doubt anticipating the fuckery his Jarl has brought home. “Come, my friend, I have one ready.”
Aura’s bound wrists are pressed against her chest as she latches herself onto Calder.
He is careful not to return the touch. If the nosey bastards of his Hold suspect she is anything other than a slave, he risks drawing the attention of one of Lavinia’s spies.
He catches Gunni’s gaze, receiving a curt nod, understanding that he should not invite focus on the young woman.
They trudge away from the main streets and bustle of Kaldrgataness and out to the evergreen forest line and Calder’s home.
“Is that your house?” She squeaks at his side as they approach his home.
Like the ancient Skalor castles, the structure has a rough gray stone exterior, a central room, a massive hearth, and elegantly curved windows.
A stone bridge spans a channel to a path of narrow steps leading to a set of double doors.
A turret nestles along the A-frame windows, giving the structure a dramatic appearance.
To her, it was likely something a wealthy noble of the Ridge or Timber Province would reside in. Alas, her home province is known for its frugality.
He finds his lips twisting into a smirk as she scans the structure with distaste. “What did you think I lived in? A one-room cabin?”
“That fits better than that monstrosity.” She scoffs.
The Princess must think I am a more modest man.
“You must have a large staff. I thought you cooked for yourself?”
Is she trying to shame me?
He chuckles, “I have no staff.” Oh no, I have not explained Argnier. “I do have a friend who lives with me.”
She stumbles over her feet, stammering as they enter the warm entryway. The large hearth has a roaring fire, and most of the sconces along the walls bear a flickering flame.
“Welcome to Coldheart Keep, Your Highness.” Gunni gestures.
“A bit too on the nose, don’t you think?” She glances around the vaulted ceilings with an expression that warms his frigid heart.
“Edmund and I named it. Calder is careful not to share his thoughts.”
He grunts in acknowledgment at his Second, even as she giggles.
A man who bears a much closer resemblance to Aura than he is willing to admit, at nearly seventy winters, pads down the main corridor. His bare ass is on full display for all to see. His wispy white locks are wound in a bun at the nape of his neck.
Why in Briny’s great saggy balls is he naked?
His piercing blue gaze assess them with minor interest as he strides past. In the distance, they can hear him descend the kitchen staircase without a word.
“Is that the friend who lives with you?” Aura jabs a finger in his direction, her appalled expression a horrible reminder he needs to deal with this swiftly.
Gunni slaps his back, excusing himself from the awkward situation.
Calder growls in frustration. “Yes, he is. I am unsure why he is roaming without clothes.”
With a frown, she continues to investigate the main floor. “There's something familiar about him. What is his name?” She calls out from the sitting room.
Before he can answer, his friend emerges from the kitchen carrying a bottle of mead.
The man coughs and scratches himself, eliciting a lip curl from Aura, who stands steadfast against the scene.
“Welcome back, Ice Prick.” He assesses her in an all-consuming manner. “Is this the one you were going to save and leave in Salt?”
“We ran into complications.” She mutters, seeming to struggle with his appearance.
“With what?” He points at Calder. “He can freeze people by thinking about it.”
Calder folds his arms. “Why are you naked?”
“I’m enjoying some time with a lovely lady. We needed a break for mead.” He wags the bottle.
Calder motions from Aura to the man. “Meet Sigvid Thordsson’s daughter.”
Aura extends her hand with a soft smile. “Aura Sigvidsson-Redwood.”
His jaw drops almost comically as he lowers the bottle to cover himself. “Uh, it would have been nice to know you were saving my great niece.” He slowly turns his head toward Calder, gritting his teeth. “And bringing her here.”
“Briny! You must be Uncle Argnier!” She drinks him in as if he were a rare curiosity. “Father said you disappeared one night and never returned.”
He scrutinizes the floor. “Yes, I traveled the continent until I found the comfort of Coldheart.” His sarcasm nearly oozes onto the floor.
“Why did you never return to Salt?”
“What use was the spare when the heir already had two sons?”
Aura takes a step back, shaking her head slightly. “Grandpapi Thord would never-”
A haunting expression darkens the features of the late King Thord Hilmirsson’s brother, Argnier. “You don’t know my brother and the bullshit I have been through. Please excuse me. I have a nimble woman awaiting my return.” He turns around striding down the corridor, exposing his saggy ass cheeks.
“When did you plan to share that?” Her fists shake at her side.
“After we settled in. I had planned a proper introduction.” He drags his hand through what little hair he permits to grow. “You were never meant to meet him naked.”
Aura chews on her lip, and he wonders how much she actually knows of her great-uncle or the unspeakable horrors he suffered under Lavinia.