Chapter 24 Calder
CALDER
Kaldrgataness, Skalor
The way her lips felt against mine was utter perfection. Her taste transported me to the only place I have ever felt at home.
The dimming daylight of Skalor’s seemingly cursed early winter forces Calder and Aura to return to Kaldrgataness just as he was about to throw her back against the pier and finally ravage her body.
When I take her, it will not be after burying my ghosts.
Night has long fallen over the country as they ride into the quiet town. He pulls on the reins and peers around the deserted street.
“It is too quiet.” He dismounts and lifts the Princess off her horse.
Her shoulder brushes against his chest, and her gaze warily assesses their surroundings as they tread toward the longhouse.
“The shop owners should be closing up right now.” He inhales a deep breath and releases a low growl.
Every storefront and home is already closed off for the evening. Not even a stray cat or hound wanders along the dirt streets.
The air grows colder as the tension in him builds.
Calder's touch along her lower back moves to her side, hugging her against him as they approach the longhouse. He pauses at the entrance to press his ear against the intricate knots carved into the barn-style doors.
The sound of boots marching behind them draws their attention to a group of guards, adorned with a large snowflake emblazoned on their chests.
“Jarl Calder Avardsson,” the only one seated atop a horse, addresses them, causing Aura to hiss at his side.
Isabel Kilton sits side-saddle in a long velvet gown of the deepest crimson. Her dark brown hair, free of dye, is woven in a braid atop her head. She looks identical to the Queen’s girls.
Without further explanation, he knows who occupies his throne and released his prisoner.
“Queen Lavinia requests you and your companion join her in the longhouse.” Isabel’s smug smile elicits an intensely feral and violent reaction in him.
Her words activate the palace soldiers at her side, who point their spears at them.
It was only a matter of time before Lavinia’s spies sold them out. He thought they at least had enough time to reach Makt’s Temple before fighting off the Skalor Army.
“Move, Iss Drengr.” A guard nudges him in the chest with the tip of the spear.
Ice crystallizes along the ground and creeps toward the boots of her soldiers.
“Now, now, Jarl Avardsson,” Isabel purrs, “Lavinia ordered the execution of anyone who harmed even a single hair on one of her peaceful soldiers or handmaidens.”
He ignores the Manchineel bitch. Dark satisfaction twists over his lips, knowing her days are numbered thanks to his gift. With a tight grip on the Princess’ upper arm–silently conveying to play along–he guides her inside the longhouse.
Once they can gather their companions, they can flee to the Wicked Wyvern.
Inside, Nightwall Keep bursts with soldiers consuming his food and drinking his mead. At the end of a long table sit Gunni and Edmund. Both clutch a drinking horn, although neither partakes in the merriment.
Thora and Argnier are nowhere to be seen.
Much of the town must be inside their homes, with only a few lords filling the spare tables.
How sad that it took the Princesses of Treland and a Gothi to invade his space to fully realize the minuscule amount of loyalty he has in his Hold.
After he took control of the lawlessness from the untimely demise of his predecessor, many resented him, primarily because of his atrocity at Chillbury. His attempts at a responsive demeanor were met with difficulty.
His entire damned situation in Kaldrgataness is a result of that bitch of a Queen and her manipulation of him.
As he faces off against his mother yet again, he cannot contain his bitter indignation at the situation she has contrived so that he will agree to be Makt’s vessel.
Aura tugs on his tunic. When he leans down to her level, she whispers, “Why don’t we run?”
Great question.
As much as he hates Skalor and would do anything to abdicate his throne, he feels bound to the Hold. After Chillbury and the endless issues, he feels obligated as Jarl to sink with the ship.
“She would kill everyone in Kaldrgataness just to make a point.” He pulls Aura so close she is forced to grip his tunic. “Manipulation is Lavinia’s favorite tool. Do not allow her to get inside your head.” He warns.
In the blackest pit of his heart, he has a nudging instinct that a time will come when that wretched woman will seize Aura, and he will be powerless to intervene.
Another guard appears, attempting to tug the Princess away. Calder cocks his arm to punch when Aura wraps her hands around his fist.
“They will kill our friends!” Her wide eyes plead with him to stand down.
“That is no way to treat my Royal Guards, Calder.”
His stomach churns at the grating sound of his mother’s voice. That familiar uncertainty accompanying her presence grips his lungs, making it difficult to breathe.
Despite knowing he was about to enter her company, the existential dread of the actions that typically follow her steps leaves him feeling unusually cold.
Lavinia slinks out beside his throne. “Join me at the hearth. The air is quite nippy in your hold, my son.” She grins to herself as if sharing in a private jest. “I reserved a table up front. Just for you and your…pleasure slave.” She waves a hand over the empty one closest to the dais.
He stops at the edge of the raised platform, firmly keeping Aura pressed against him with one arm. The Queen’s guards continue to herd them toward the dais. He is overtly aware that their weapons threaten the one person he will die for.
“What is it you want?” The temperature plummets in the longhouse, only widening Lavinia’s smile.
“Such animosity. I only wish to meet the lovely pleasure slave…or should I say Princess Aura of Treland. Please, step forward, little Sigvidsson.” She extends a hand with a saccharine smile.
Aura peers up at him, seeking direction.
He doesn’t trust his bitch of a mother.
But they are surrounded.
His ice powers could decimate the longhouse, but at the expense of everyone inside.
When he edged the Princess on the throne, he learned that his seidr has a limit. His effort to shield her from his frost knocked him out of commission for almost a day.
With so much at stake, he needs to conserve his ability.
For her.
For Aura.
“Come. I only bite those who disobey me.” Lavinia guides Aura to the throne, forcing her to sit in the seat of his throne while the wretched woman perches on the arm. Her wide smile leers down upon his sweet Princess, who lifts her chin with a defiant fire burning behind her eyes.
“I am struggling, little Sigvidsson.” Lavinia sweeps her long, dark hair streaked with white over her shoulder.
Aura tilts her head ever so slowly, her lips thinning.
“I gave an order to all of my Jarls. A tiny, eensy little request. Do you know what that was, Princess?”
Fire flares in the Aura’s gaze. “To kidnap the Princess of Treland, to sacrifice me.”
Lavinia nods in understanding. “But my son, there,” she points to Calder, “he misbehaved, seeking to conceal you from me instead. Why would he do this? What about you would corrupt my son’s mind?”
Aura’s jaw clenches. “Because I am not a manipulative bitch, Your Highness.”
Lavinia laughs. “Life has scorned me, little Sigvidsson. I take care of myself before anyone else. Something you should consider if you wish to survive Skalor. Do you know why I ordered your death?”
His mother leans in and whispers in Aura’s ear, causing her face to grow pale. When Lavinia finally leans away, Aura’s horrified gaze searches for Calder.
The whites of Lavinia’s eyes glow an unsettling shade of yellow, which has Calder rushing to the stage.
“Leave her out of your schemes!” He growls, feeling the hands of her soldiers upon him.
“How interesting!” Lavinia exclaims, far too giddy.
Calder lunges forward, but Lavinia unsheaths a dagger. The tip presses against Aura’s throat, and everything shudders to a halt.
He raises his hands, temporarily stopping his fight as his heart refuses to beat with her life hanging in the balance.
Remove that dagger, or your chest will serve as a new sheath for Freyja.
“Tell him,” Lavinia forces her to stand, “what is your greatest fear?”
Aura shakes her head, her gaze firmly on Calder.
“Someone is afraid,” the Queen speaks in a child-like voice, “terrified, really, of her dear old papa having joined her Grandpapi in the Depths. Worse, she worries he will come here, and her Pops will die at the hands of the older man she should not have kissed.”
He struggles with the impact of her fears.
They are so far from Salt, yet the deepest part of her heart is still there.
With the Lord Commander.
Why has she not shared her worries?
Short of calling the Briny God with the Sacred Stone, he would bet his life that Sigvid is alive and well.
Even if Queen Avina is the only person restraining the Beast from charging into Kaldrgataness.
What cuts deepest is her despair that Calder would ever harm Sigvid.
One of Lavinia’s guard's throats suddenly rips open, spraying blood onto the Queen of Skalor. Two more guards fling their heads back and drop to the floor. The soldier on the dais beside Aura spins, looking for the mysterious attacker, but an unseen force slices his neck open, too.
Suddenly, Aura vanishes, and he suspects they have uncovered the missing Thora.
Calder slams his fist into the soldier beside him, freezing all those who seek to restrain him.
A bloodied and vicious Thora suddenly appears at his side, tugging a hissing Aura beside her. The Lady Commander withdraws a throwing knife from a man's neck with a snarl.
“Move!” Calder yells, signaling Edmund and Gunni to join them, and the group rushes out of the longhouse.
More Royal Guards approach from up the street, closing in on the five of them.
“To my ship!”
The few townspeople who had been in the longhouse rush out onto the pier armed with weapons lifted from Lavinia’s guards.
Calder frees Freyja from his back when he catches Lavinia’s handmaidens hurrying her toward her ship docked on the opposite side of the pier from their crew.
A gentle touch stays his hand. “We need you more!” Aura cries over the clanking and groans from the fighting.
He pivots between her and the women undocking Lavinia’s ship.
This isn’t over, Mother.
They advance toward the far end of the dock, where more of the Queen’s warriors stream onto the decking.
“Princesses! Invisible!” He shouts, clutching Aura’s hand.
She whispers her request quickly, which Briny and Maeve must grant instantly.
The seidr falls chilly against his skin, as if a cold rain douses his body. Her shimmering hand reaches out to clutch Edmund. The invisibility power of the Sacred Stone extends to the three of them as they run down the pier.
Up ahead, Thora and Gunni vanish as she uses her Keeper seidr to conceal them both.
At last, they reach the end of the wharf to find the Wicked Wyvern swaying against the calm waves of the Bay of Souls.
Aura releases him and Edmund from her concealment. While Edmund joins Thora and Gunni defending the dock, Calder helps Aura into the vessel, despite her complaints that she can manage on her own.
He isn’t taking any chances.
Calder jumps aboard when he is confident they have evaded the troops. Deftly, he unties the sail and places the oars in the water.
When he turns around, Gunni, Thora, and Edmund remain on the dock with their weapons raised, but they do not move towards the Wicked Wyvern.
“What in the Abyss are you doing?” He demands. “Get aboard!”
Gunni wraps his arm around Thora’s waist and kisses her cheek. “We discussed this earlier. Our group is too large for discreet travel. I’m sorry, my Jarl, but you and Princess Aura must begin the journey. We will handle things here.”
“Don’t worry, cousin. I am too beautiful to die.” Edmund laughs, spinning one of his axes in his hand.
Thora slices through the ropes that secure the ship to the dock, shoving the side of the boat with her heel. “Get the fuck out of here and let the adults handle this.” She waves to Aura. “Invisible the ship!”
The Princess throws her hands on the hull, and a shimmery mist descends upon the Wicked Wyvern.
As the wind catches the sail, Calder hollers at Edmund. “You have yet to confirm the location of the temple!”
“Southern Handle of the Crescent Hold! I will meet you there.”
“That does not help me!”
“Oh, right! We will meet you in Viktoft!”
Calder can barely make out the last of what Edmund said before the wind pulls the ship into the Bay of Souls. He holds Aura close as they watch helplessly while their companions rush along the pier, quickly ripping through the next group of soldiers.
“What if they are harmed?” She cries.
Calder grabs the rudder. “If any warriors can handle a battalion of slack-jawed idiots, it's them.” He steers them away from Kaldrgataness and toward the Crescent Hold.