Chapter 44 #2
Gaelfr looked the utter opposite of excited, but he gritted his jaw and nodded, even as he shot a baleful look toward Kalfr’s face.
Earning a cool smile from Kalfr in return, and Raye couldn’t bite back her amused laugh.
“Well, I think that’s wonderful,” she said lightly, with an approving squeeze to Kalfr’s arm.
“And we’ll do our sparring again this afternoon, right, Gael?
It was so much fun yesterday, and you were such a good teacher, too. ”
She meant every word of it, and the flare of suspicion in Gaelfr’s eyes was betrayed by the flush creeping up his cheeks. “Ach, you will come,” he said roughly. “All of you.”
He aimed his frown toward Kalfr again, but it looked less intense this time, and when Kalfr nodded back, his expression was softer too, even fond. And as Raye glanced between them, she again drew up her resolve, her hope. They were all learning each other. Learning how to trust each other.
Once they finished eating, Raye helped Kalfr and Grum clear off the table for Julian’s reading class, which apparently would include not only Svein and Gaelfr, but also Egil and Skirvir, who looked even more disgruntled by this than Gaelfr had.
But he didn’t argue, at least, and once they were settled together, Raye gratefully took Kalfr’s arm, and joined him for another morning survey of the byrgi.
Kalfr still seemed tired at first, but Raye did her best to stay positive and helpful, to learn as much as she could, and to follow up on their priorities from the day before.
Soren and William had settled on a new location for the well, and had begun preparations for digging.
They’d also already dug out the ventilation Rurik had wanted for his new sickroom, which was now set up with two low cozy beds, a large examination table and workstation, and a variety of supplies — and as a result, Rurik had now begun a round of preliminary physical examinations.
He’d already seen about half the band, and he curtly informed Raye that he would expect to see her later that afternoon, since Skirvir had decided he was far too hearty and hale to keep his designated appointment.
Next, Raye and Kalfr took a look into the muster-room, where Skirvir’s axe was now perched precariously in a corner, blade up, poised to impale anyone standing nearby — and after setting it down and muttering irritably under his breath, Kalfr stalked down the corridor toward Fengr’s room.
Which Raye hadn’t yet seen, and which turned out to be packed full of various random objects, including everything from rocks to chains to dinner plates, with Fengr sitting bolt upright in the midst of them, clearly having anticipated Raye and Kalfr’s approach.
“Please tell me your gifts could help you make storage furniture, brother,” Kalfr said, his hand over his heart. “It is a matter of life and death, it seems.”
Raye laughed despite herself, and Fengr seemed intrigued enough to go look over the muster-room, at least. And with that somewhat settled, Raye and Kalfr next went and met with Grum in the storeroom, where he’d finished doing a complete inventory, and had begun a list of items he wanted from the mountain — barrels and salt highest among them — and he gruffly informed them that he wanted to begin on the mushroom garden, too.
Which led to Raye and Kalfr doing another review of possible locations, followed by a consultation with an irate and very muddy Soren, who snarled that the Bautul obsession with mushrooms had reached preposterous proportions, and that no one needed fresh water when they could gorge themselves with ground mold instead.
“He means,” cut in an equally muddy William, smiling apologetically toward them, “we will work on this once the well is finished. The day after tomorrow, mayhap?”
Kalfr acquiesced with obvious relief, and once they were safely down the corridor again, Raye shot him a look that was half-amused, half-admiring. “I had no idea leading a band would be such a complicated job,” she told him. “You really are good at it, you know.”
Kalfr shrugged and waved it away, but his glance back toward her was grateful, and he seemed a little more relaxed as they headed outdoors through the main underground exit, the one that came out into the garden.
And after a quick circuit of the garden and the training-grounds, they thoroughly checked the emergency beacon and the tree houses, too.
They’d only briefly looked at the tree houses — or rather, the watchtowers — the day before, and Raye explored them with genuine interest. Kalfr showed her how to light the beacon, which had a clever pulley system, and at her request, he helped her climb up into the watchtowers, too.
A process that ended up being more difficult than she expected, and she narrowly missed ripping her dress — but the view was utterly breathtaking, with the rolling forest, the majestic smoking mountain to the west, the sun rising higher in the wide blue sky.
Kalfr smiled at Raye’s awestruck praise of the view, and answered all her questions about communicating with the mountain.
He also explained how Bautul bands usually managed the night watch — apparently the bands’ members would set up a rotation among themselves, and report to either the voreur or the watcher as needed.
But as he spoke, he still seemed subdued, or maybe distracted — and more than once, Raye caught him glancing back down behind them. Not toward the garden, but rather toward the altar, tucked into its protective ring of greenery.
“Could we go to the altar next?” Raye asked, and she didn’t miss the way Kalfr’s eyes shuttered, his mouth thinning. But he nodded, quick and short, and waved her down toward it.
Raye hadn’t seen the altar up close since the day she’d knelt for him on it, and she was again struck by all that dark blood still pooled all across its grey stone.
It was stained with streaks of paler colour now, too — Kalfr’s seed from that day he’d taken her, good gods — but the blood was still so thick, so ugly, so…
foreboding. And how many times had Kalfr bled himself out here?
How deeply had he believed he was meant to martyr himself for his kin?
Did he still believe it, even now? Was he still planning for it?
Kalfr was looking at the stains too, his eyes flat and unreadable, and Raye took a breath, and touched the altar’s cool stone. “Have you still been… praying here, at all?” she asked him. “Since we…”
Her voice trailed off, but Kalfr exhaled and jerked a shrug. “I seek to,” he said. “Mostly at nights, when I cannot sleep. But it has not…”
He looked away, and Raye studied him, seeking to pull the threads together.
So when she and Gaelfr had been sleeping, these past nights, Kalfr had been coming out here to pray, instead?
And based on that look in his eyes, the reluctance in his voice, it hadn’t been particularly helping, either.
And what had he told them, back on their first day here?
I ken I have lost the goddess’ favour. Mayhap if I offer my life, and my home, the goddess will finally lift this curse, and forgive me.
The thought of it flashed painfully behind Raye’s eyes, and her hand instinctively reached for his, squeezing his fingers tight. “I’m sorry to hear it hasn’t been helping,” she said, quiet. “Maybe I could try praying for you, instead?”
She winced even as she suggested it, because surely she had no right to offer such a thing. And Kalfr’s glance toward her was justifiably startled, enough that she opened her mouth, about to take it back — but then he swallowed, and nodded. Saying… yes.
Raye blinked, while her doubts clamoured higher, but she forced herself to step closer to the altar, still holding Kalfr’s hand in hers. Gods, how did she do this again? And what the hell was she supposed to say?
But Kalfr wanted this, and she’d sworn to do whatever it took.
So before she lost the nerve, she tugged him up onto the altar behind her, and sank to her knees on the hard stone.
On the blood. Because this was how she’d prayed here before, right?
And Gaelfr had approved of that? And every time she’d seen Kalfr pray, he’d always put his hand to his heart, and spoken aloud — and Raye could do that too. She would.
“Goddess of Bautul,” she ventured, squeezing her eyes shut, feeling her rapid heartbeat beneath her fingers. “We come here today to ask for your safety, and your support, and your… blessing. Not just for us, but for all our band, too. For Svein.”
Her voice wavered, and she was powerfully aware of Kalfr’s body settling close beside hers on the altar, their arms lightly touching.
“And today,” she continued thickly, “I especially want to pray for my mate Kalfr. I pray that you’ll bless him, and honour him, and bring him comfort and hope and peace.
It’s been such a gift to be together again, and I hope you’ll keep showing us how to do this.
How to learn each other again. Meet each other. Trust each other.”
They were Kalfr’s own words, and Raye could feel his shoulder shuddering as he exhaled.
As if it meant something, to have her ask his goddess for this, and she could keep going, she could.
“Because I want to stay here, like this,” she whispered.
“I want to make a home here, where we can all be happy and safe together. Where we can all be a family again.”
A family. And what was she saying, what was she betraying, the hope and longing quivering pathetically through her voice. Because that wasn’t what any of this led to, was it? No. She had to prove this, to pay her penance, to keep her vow…
Too late, she braced herself, perhaps for Kalfr’s mockery, or his judgement — but there was only the heavy rise and fall of his shoulder against hers, a low clearing of his throat. “And I pray, goddess,” he murmured, into the quiet, “that you will hear my brave mate, and grant her all she seeks.”
Oh. Well. Raye’s breath came out in a rush, her eyes snapping open, and she couldn’t help a grateful smile toward Kalfr beside her.
Because even if he didn’t mean it, that had been lovely of him to say — and his eyes on hers looked bright too, and a soft, crooked smile pulled at his mouth.
As if he’d liked her prayer. As if, again, this had meant something to him.
I pray that you will hear my brave mate, and grant her all she seeks.
And for an instant, as Raye kept holding his eyes, she could almost believe he’d meant it. Maybe he really did want to make a family, and a home where they could be happy and safe together. And by sharing this with her, he’d chosen to meet her in it. To trust her.
But then his body stiffened, and his eyes cut away from her, toward the trees. Toward — Orc Mountain. Or rather, toward — the person?
Raye’s heart skipped, because yes, that was a new person.
A new orc, tall and lanky, slipping gracefully through the ring of greenery surrounding the altar, and striding straight toward them.
And the closer he came, the more familiar he looked.
An orc from the mountain. From that Bautul room with the altar…
Joarr. The midwife’s mate. And… Orc Mountain’s Chief Scout. Right?
“Greetings, brother,” Kalfr said, and he gracefully hopped off the altar to meet Joarr, clasping briefly at his hand. “You bring news? From the north?”
Raye froze, and then lurched off the altar to join them. News, from the north. From…
“Ach, brother,” Joarr replied, with a nod. “From our enemy, just this morn.”
Their enemy. Raye stared at Joarr, waiting, while he gave them a grim smile. “Once again, this Sybil has spurned our latest offer,” he flatly continued, “and has gathered more men and bands to her side. She now marches straight toward you, at haste. As if she well knows you are here.”
Raye couldn’t breathe, suddenly, and she gripped at Kalfr’s arm, searched his face. He looked so tired again, suddenly, his face drawn and haggard, and had he known this was coming today? Had he expected this?
“How many men, then?” Kalfr asked, his voice wooden. “And how soon?”
Raye gripped Kalfr’s arm tighter, while Joarr exhaled, and gave them another smile that wasn’t a smile at all…
“Near to two hundred men, all told,” he said. “And I grant you ten more days, before they are upon you.”