Chapter 63
The journey back to Raye’s cottage felt like a grinding, endless nightmare, beneath a blank grey sky. Taking one rushed, frantic step after another through the thick forest, constantly straining to see ahead, to fight through the constant screaming panic.
Svein was alone. Svein was in grave danger. Svein might be caught, hurt, killed.
“Are you sure this is still the right way?” Raye rasped toward Fengr, for what felt like the hundredth time. “Are you sure Svein came through here?”
Fengr curtly nodded, without looking back toward her. “I am sure,” he replied. “Even if I could not feel this, I could yet scent it. The trail reeks so strong of Kalfr, Svein must have —”
He drew up short, barking out a laugh, and bent down to pluck something off a nearby tree trunk, about the height of his knee.
A small, torn piece of cloth, and Raye stared at it, as more shock and dread trampled through her gut.
It was from Kalfr’s trousers. The trousers he’d worn only the day before.
“Clever little imp,” Fengr said, shaking his head, sounding almost admiring. “Knew what he was doing, that is certain.”
It was yet another flood of fear and misery in Raye’s gut, because — how? How had Svein known to do this? How long had he been planning this? And how the hell had she not noticed, or realized? How many things had she foolishly betrayed, or allowed Svein to overhear, without even realizing?
“Are we catching up to him, at least?” her strained voice asked, once they’d begun walking again. “Are we any closer?”
Fengr shrugged, his eyes again focused on the path ahead. “Hard to say. He is young, and quick. I wish we had known earlier.”
Right. They had already discussed this at depressing length during their journey so far, and from what they’d collectively sorted out, Svein had said farewell to Kalfr and Gaelfr right after breakfast, and next he’d rushed downstairs, claiming he’d wanted to see Raye.
And while she had foolishly sat alone in her room, weeping over her fight with Kalfr and Gaelfr, Svein had launched into his plan with astonishing speed and purpose.
Taking Kalfr’s clothes, leaving Raye that note, and running off toward that exit.
So fast that he’d likely been fully out of the tunnel, racing east under the open sky, before Kalfr and Gaelfr had even left the house.
Gaining enough distance that they would likely have missed his scent entirely, or just thought it a remnant from when he and his friends had been playing near the creek the day before.
But even so, anyone actively hunting for Kalfr’s scent in those woods might still find it.
They might think Kalfr was making a run for it, trying to deceive them, to distract them, to set up some kind of secret attack.
And surely any competent commander, with multiple bands of hungry outriders and mercenaries on call, would send men to investigate. Perhaps many men.
And even if those men didn’t notice the scent, or if they didn’t find Svein — there were still the men watching Raye’s cottage.
Men who those delivery orcs had reported seeing only a few days ago, when they’d gone to fetch her loom.
And again, Raye hadn’t thought to send Svein away for that discussion, had she?
No, he’d been there, listening to every word of it — and then he’d made sure to run straight there.
To the one place he’d known the men would be waiting.
“I still can’t believe Svein even remembered the way there,” Raye muttered, more to herself than anything. “We only travelled this route once. Weeks ago.”
Up ahead, Fengr shrugged again, drawing a leafy branch back out of her way.
“He must be a good scenter,” he replied.
“And after living alone with you for so long, he is likely deeply attuned to your scent, and therefore the path you took coming here. And your scent would be even stronger if you had borne any recent wounds before your journey, or carried goods with your blood on them.”
He glanced purposefully back toward Raye, toward — toward her neck.
And when she clapped her hand over it, she felt those too-familiar divots and scars, the proof of recent orc bites in her skin.
And curse it, but Gaelfr had bitten her back at her cottage, hadn’t he?
And it had been enough to wake Svein from a deep sleep, and get blood all over Raye’s dress.
And then yes, they’d packed that dress with all the rest — and thereby apparently gifted Svein an extra-clear scent to follow back home. Goddess damn it.
“Can’t we move any faster?” Raye asked, her voice plaintive. “Do another stretch of running, perhaps?”
She winced even as she asked it, because they’d already done several lengthy sprints, during which Skirvir had insisted on carrying Raye on his back while he and Fengr ran, in order to cover more ground more quickly.
An arrangement that had proven deeply awkward, but also undeniably effective — at least, until Skirvir had begun grunting with every step, and visibly favouring his left leg.
And despite his loud claims otherwise, it had soon become apparent that his leg wound — courtesy of Fengr himself — had torn open again, and had begun spurting fresh blood with every step.
“Can’t Fengr just run ahead alone, then?
” Raye had asked next, but Skirvir had roundly refused, declaring that separating was far riskier than staying together, and that no worthy Bautul warrior would place either a woman or his band’s dancer into such grave danger.
An assertion that even Fengr hadn’t argued, and his roll of his eyes toward Skirvir had looked almost grateful.
“I am well ready to run again,” Skirvir said now, though his voice sounded markedly less decisive than usual. “Come, woman, and mount me.”
But up ahead, Fengr scoffed, and cast a disapproving glance backwards. “Not yet,” he snapped. “There is a flat stretch up ahead, so you can wait and martyr yourself there. We cannot have you too wounded to —”
He bit off the words and kept walking, but Raye could still hear the rest, as clearly as if Fengr had kept shouting aloud.
We cannot have you too wounded to fight, he’d been about to say.
And it was yet more simmering terror in Raye’s gut, because it meant — they were expecting a battle at the end of this.
They needed Skirvir to be able to fight those awful men, and try to protect them, protect Svein, from death.
“But,” Raye’s hoarse voice cut in, as a distant but crucial point grated through her awareness.
“But if you fight these men, you — you’ll end up starting another war, won’t you?
And Kalfr — Kalfr has been fighting so hard against that, all this time.
He would do anything to prevent more war.
He might even rather — he might even expect that we —”
That we sacrifice Svein, she should have said, though her voice choked, her head rapidly shaking. But it was true, wasn’t it? Kalfr had already sacrificed Svein once, keeping his distance from him all those years, honouring Raye’s wishes, to prevent his people from suffering another war…
But no, that wasn’t completely right, either.
Because maybe Kalfr had also been trying to protect Svein from his own clan.
He’d been trying to keep Svein safe. And which one had it been?
Or had it been both? And goddess, it was still all so confusing, such a miserable exhausting mess, and Raye almost didn’t catch Fengr’s disbelieving snort from up ahead.
“Kalfr will do anything for Svein,” he countered. “And for you. Why else do you think he has worked so hard, all these summers? And brought our band together? And built this byrgi that might as well be a fortress?”
Raye blinked at Fengr, frowning, but he shot her a wry look over his shoulder. “You ought to see the other byrgis,” he continued. “Cozy little cottages and cabins, with mayhap a single tunnel beneath. But this one” — he waved vaguely back toward it — “this one was for him. For Svein. For you.”
For you. Raye kept blinking at Fengr, and he let out a grim laugh as he again glanced back toward her.
“And why do you think Kalfr was so able to muster this band to fill his byrgi, in but a single day? Any Bautul who has been longing to be free of that mountain and its ghosts — we were waiting for this. For him to finally bring you home.”
Waiting for this. For him to finally bring you home.
Raye’s stilted thoughts couldn’t follow that, to weave it in with all the rest. Kalfr couldn’t have meant to build the byrgi for them?
So he could… so he could come to her and Svein, and offer to bring them home?
To keep them safe? To surround them with a band of orcs he trusted.
A band who — even in this moment — were helping Raye, helping Svein, risking their lives to keep them safe…
“But — even if that’s true,” Raye managed, “Kalfr still wouldn’t want to start another war. Not even for Svein. He cares so much about his clan, and his people. About all of you.”
Fengr didn’t immediately reply, but behind her, Skirvir let out a loud harrumph.
“Ach, we know this,” he said flatly. “And thus, we will not fight without good cause. And if we do fight, we will yet do all within our power to gain victory without maiming or killing. This is what we have all been learning with Gaelfr’s training, is it not?
Has he not also done this with you, woman? ”
Right. Gaelfr had been preparing Raye for this, preparing all of them, all this time. And Raye’s hand instinctively found the hilt of her new sword, gripping tight against the solid strength of it. Against more proof of Gaelfr’s protection, his care. I love you. I trust you.