Chapter 30 Halvar
Halvar
We traipsed down the hillside, leaving the warm cottage behind us, and headed for the alehouse in the bustling fishing village.
The air was tinged with the smell of fish and the moon shone down on the dusty cobblestones.
People in all types of attire wandered to and fro—some in stately garb that matched what they were wearing on the continent and in England, while others wore more practical materials that matched a working lifestyle.
The wooden buildings rose up around us, the alehouse sat at the end of the road, light spilling from its windows along with merriment and song.
“I’ve been dreaming of a glass of ale for days,” Vigi said, running his hand through his hair.
“Me too,” Finn chimed in as he unbuttoned the top of his jacket. “Who knew helping a little old lady was such hard work.”
“If you didn’t know, then you should do so more often,” I grumbled with a quirked brow in his direction.
He slapped me on the back once and let out a snorty laugh. “When we return to Skolvik I shall befriend all the elderly ladies in the mountain, become their errand boy in exchange for ale.”
“As long as it’s only ale you’re after,” Vigi muttered and sent us all into fits of laughter.
I’d grown rather fond of these two in our time together. Vigi was quiet but attentive, while Finn liked to find joy in every part of his day. Yet, the one thing they both had in common was a strong work ethic. They were dedicated to their roles as soldiers and this assignment.
“Come along then,” Finn opened the door to the alehouse, “Halvar is getting the first round!”
I rolled my eyes, but followed the two men inside the bustling bar.
The interior of Feyers ?lstue was as rustic as the ones we had up north, but instead of a brine and grist smell that clung to everything along the northern coast, this one had the distinct aroma of hay mixed in with the pungent ale.
Men and women in brown- and gray-colored clothes filled the tables and chairs at the bartop, while a small fireplace in the left corner sent a glow across the room.
The entire place was decorated with fishing nets and wagon wheels—a true example of land meeting sea.
“Over here,” Finn said, waving us to an open table. He removed his jacket and hailed one of the barmaids who promptly came over and offered a pitcher of ale. Coins were exchanged and orders were placed for some stew before our conversation joined the gentle hum of that around us.
“Any idea how much longer we will be down here?” Vigi asked.
I took a sip of my drink. “Until she gets what she needs for her research and we hear from the mountain on the investigation.”
“So you haven’t heard anything yet?”
“Not yet.” At least, not what I’d wanted to hear. Our door-to-door efforts had yielded no credible results and the King was frustrated. That had been in the last message from Mikkel, by way of Ragnhild’s hawk two days ago.
“I’d like to get home sooner rather than later. Along with those little old ladies, there is a certain someone I’d like to take to dinner.”
“Do tell,” Vigi said over the edge of his mug.
The door shut with a bump, and a tingle skittered across my shoulders. I peered past Vigi and Finn, finding four men in black attire approaching the bar. They seemed harmless, but my senses had never been wrong. I’d have to keep an eye on them.
“She works at the tea house,” Finn replied, “you know the one where they’ve been doing the tunnel work.”
Vigi nodded.
My gaze remained locked on our surroundings.
“We hit it off recently and, well, I like her. It’s funny how you find people you can spend hours talking to and completely lose track of time.”
Vigi huffed.
I didn’t bother adding comment. The only person I’d felt that way with recently was one I was forbidden to go near, yet desperately wanted to.
A bard started playing his fiddle in the far corner by the fire, a lilting tune regaling us with travels to far flung places. It sounded like he’d spent most of his time in the Nordic countries but there was mention of revolution in France too. I brought my tankard to my lips—
A dagger flew toward Finn’s head, and I tossed my drink, leaped across the table, drew my sword, and batted it aside. A man with a scar through his eye snarled at me from the bar, his three friends charging toward us. The men who’d just walked in.
“The fuck was—”
“Oh, shit.”
I couldn’t have agreed more with my soldiers. We were outnumbered and couldn’t use our magic. Fuck.
The men came at us, swords raised and glass bottles in hand. A customer rose to his feet and smashed his own drink into one of their heads, drawing him away from us but starting an all out brawl within the establishment.
Fantastic.
Chairs flew, glass shattered, and yells turned into background noise as I dueled with the scarred man. He sidestepped one of my blows and tried to get in a jab, but I was too quick for him. I swung for his neck, getting a snick across his skin. Damn, not deep enough. “Why?”
His reply was another attempt on my life—a stab that would have gone through my stomach if I hadn’t parried it away.
He peered around behind me as if looking for someone while catching his breath.
I kept him in front of me, sword at the ready.
“Why?” I asked again.
He sneered. “She’s not here!”
“They must have hidden the princess away!” another said from somewhere nearby.
My heart clenched and my mind slowed. She.
They were looking for a she. Odds were that was my princess.
I sucked in a breath. We’d been found. The how would have to wait until later.
Right now, I needed to keep myself and my men alive, then get to Freija as quickly as possible. It was time to leave.
I spun to my soldiers, only to find Vigi on the floor with a slit throat, staring up at the ceiling. No. No. No. No. No. No.
My hands clenched into fists, and I punched a man running at me with an empty jug. My move landed squarely on his jugular and sent the idiot to his knees gasping for breath. “Finn!” I bellowed.
Chairs flew around the room, glass smashed against walls and tables, and—
There he was, locked in a duel with one of the four men who’d started this mess.
I lunged through the melee toward Finn, and a patron stumbled from my left, bottle raised above his head ready to strike. I grabbed it by the neck, wrangling it from his grasp and throwing it aside, then headbutted the man into an unconscious heap.
Drunken fool.
Reaching Finn, I covered his back and cut away a fishing net that was thrown our way. They really were a creative lot in here. Strike after strike, flying object after flying object, I kept moving, monitoring, and maintaining Finn’s defense.
“End him, Finn,” I growled.
“Trying to, sir,” he bit back.
Metal clanged and swords swung until I heard a gut-wrenching gurgling noise at my back. “Did you get—”
Finn fell against me, blood spilling from his lips, a sword lodged through the center of his chest. “Sor…” he couldn’t even finish his last word before his eyes rolled back and his body went limp.
My heartbeat slowed as anger and vengeance took hold. I glared at the man who’d been fighting Finn and charged. My sword sailed through the air and met his unguarded throat. I sliced through the front, then retracted my blade and jabbed it into his stomach.
Near silence filled the room, the space now tinged with the smell of copper, ale, and fear.
I withdrew my blade, wiped the blood on the fallen man’s jacket, and turned to the room. “Anyone else?”
The last man remaining out of the group of four spun toward the door.
Before he had a chance to get away, I holstered my sword and was across the room, grabbing him by the collar and raising him up against one of the bar’s wooden beams. His fist flew at me and landed a hit on my cheek, turning my head violently. Oh, he is going to regret that.
“Who are you?” I growled.
The man grinned, revealing yellowed teeth and tobacco-laced breath. “Give me the princess and I’ll tell you.”
Not a chance. I shook him, his head wobbling like a doll. “Try again.”
He grasped at my wrists in an attempt to claw himself free. That wasn’t happening, though. This bar would be his coffin. The brawl, his funeral. I shifted my hold and wrapped my hands around his neck. He wheezed, “The mountain…”
“Which one?”
That disgusting smile returned, and my stomach sank. We’d been correct: there was someone inside our own walls. “Skolvik,” he said, confirming my suspicions.
“Who?”
“I’ll… never… tell…”
“You will or you will die.”
“You’re just going to kill me anyway.”
True. I shrugged. “Who sent you?”
“We… could… play… a guessing… game…”
I didn’t have time for this. There could be more of them out there targeting Freija.
I crushed his windpipe with my bare hands and let his body fall the the floor.
That was the last of the four culprits down.
Surveying the room, I found most patrons slumped over tables and chairs, a pair still fist-fighting by the fireplace, and the bard cowering behind the bar top with the barmaids.
Vigi and Finn lay among the other wounded and killed, blood staining the floorboards.
Anger scourged through me. They didn’t deserve to die like this—not in a tavern brawl—nor be left to the locals to deal with.
But, I had no choice. I had to leave my fallen men behind.
I needed to get to Freija before anyone else did.
Sprinting from the alehouse, I charged down the road, searching for transport.
There had to be a horse or two around here somewhere.
Street after street came up empty until I finally spotted a stable near the town square housing a single horse.
It would have to do. Thankfully, the tawny creature with a spiky white-and-black mane was a draft horse common around the mountains and fjord—plenty big enough to carry me and another.
I untethered its reins—bespoke ones considering the gilded name plate announcing my new friend was called Gylli—and hauled it away. She neighed and sent frustrated puffs from her nostrils.
“Easy, easy,” I soothed and patted her neck as we rounded the corner. Without waiting to see if anyone had noticed me, I leaped up and rode toward Vigdis’s cottage. I needed to get to Freija. Now.