| |
Sleep came in little bursts throughout the night; coming on thick as fog rolling over a rough sea, and then lifting at the slightest sound or movement from Erik. He never opened his eyes, not a single time, although sometime in the early hours he made a suicidal subconscious attempt to roll into the fire. I entered some kind of fugue state, no longer able to differentiate between the times I was sleeping, and times I was awake. In a lot of ways, it wasn’t dissimilar to the average night cycle of a new parent. Only with slightly more rain and smoke, and danger and blood.
By the time dawn finally cracked over the mountains, I was sleeping like the dead. A herd of stampeding bison couldn’t have waked me. My muscles had sunk deep into the ground, finally rising in mutiny at their vicious overuse, and my head felt heavier than the rocks which supported it. If left to my own devices, there was a chance I could have happily remained for the next several years.
Yet at the slightest rustle of fabric, my eyes flew open.
Erik was looking at me, sitting propped up by the fire.
Thank the gods!
“You’re awake,” I breathed, like I had to hear the words out loud in order to believe it.
Even then, I needed to check for myself. With thousand horrible cracks of protest, I lurched painfully upright and half-staggered across the stone to where he lay. His skin was cool, without a trace of the fever that had ravaged it. His eyes were bruised around the edges, but the blues were clear. It wasn’t until I reached to peel the cloak from his legs, checking on the cuts below, that I realized he was no longer wearing it. Sometime in the early hours, he’d placed it over me instead.
“Thanks to you,” he said softly, unable to put any strength behind it. His eyes twinkled in amusement at the look of astonishment on my face. “I have little memory of what happened,” he continued, shifting himself a bit higher, “except that at some point in the night, you tried to eat something, then ended up smearing it over my skin. I’m also never loaning you my clothes again,” he added, lips twitching with a little smile as his eyes traveled over the ragged cloak at my feet.
They lifted slowly, locking onto mine.
“You also saved my life,” he finished softly.
I was still in too much of a state for this to register. I kept waiting for the sky to come crashing, for a pack of beasts to come tearing out of the forest, for his fever to return. I lifted my hand again to his forehead, pressing it with concentration, only to find myself caught in the steady gaze of his eyes. We were huddled very close, almost on top of each other. I’d no longer thought anything of it. My cheeks flamed with color and I drew back, feeling strangely embarrassed.
“Yes, well...it was my turn,” I answered.
It was quiet for a few moments while the both of us sat there, listening to the sound of the birds calling in the trees. Like many people who’d survived a similar ordeal, we found ourselves driven to silence by the simple fact of there being too much to say. The brightness of the morning couldn’t have proved a greater contrast to the heavy shadows of the night before. The wind had a way of doing that, so high in the mountains. Each new day was swept clean, a fresh slate.
“I woke up smiling today,” he admitted suddenly, flushing a little himself. He turned to look at me, haloed by the rising sun. “Is that not the strangest thing? Truth be told, I can’t remember the last time that happened,” he added absentmindedly, lifting his gaze to the brightening trees.
I looked at him curiously, he’d spoken like this before. It had surprised me then, just as it did now. A handsome man, in the flush of youth. Son of a great lord. I remembered the first time he’d laughed in the great hall; the heads of his countrymen had snapped up in surprise.
“I’m glad,” I said honestly, not understanding in the slightest. It was a word so tame for the depth of what I felt, that to use it, felt almost laughable. Yet the sleepless hours spent watching him forced me to continue. “You certainly won’t be smiling much longer, not once the stiffness of those wounds sets in.” I glanced up at him, suddenly unsure. “You remember the wolves?”
He nodded slowly, never breaking my gaze. “I remember the wolves.”
What else do you remember?
The night had blurred in my own mind, I could only imagine how it must seem to a person in his state. Not only had he lost over half the blood in his body, the fever had ravaged through whatever remained. I had been shocked to see his eyes open, and was blown away when he started to talk. Now this new fear, a sudden resurgence of memory. I felt little trails of heat crawling up the back of my neck, as I thought of those quiet moments by the fire. Perhaps it was better to forget.
“You stayed with me,” he said quietly, “even after they...” He trailed off, unable to say any more. A few seconds passed, then a strange expression rippled across his face.
He looked at me suddenly, holding something back.
You kissed me.
My breath froze in my chest. Was it possible he knew?
He didn’t know, I decided almost as quickly. The man was burning with fever, and the drugs had only just begun their work. Even if he knew, he couldn’t be certain. He had been convinced I was a Valkyrie only moments before. He mind wasn’t his own. He could well have been dreaming.
Fix this!
“I tried very hard to leave you,” I replied gravely, shaking my head. “It didn’t work, you kept coming after me. After a while, I gave up and simply napped in the cave.”
He nodded to himself, just as serious as me. “Yes, that’s what I figured.” It was quiet a few moments, before he added, “Thank you, for doing that.”
Our eyes met briefly, before I flashed a little smile. “Anytime.”
With the business of last night sorted, we settled upon the work of the day. We needed to go back and retrieve the knife—both knives. Erik insisted on this. For my part, I was perfectly happy to march in the opposite direction and pretend the blood-soaked clearing didn’t exist. Then, he asked me what I wanted to eat for dinner. Then he asked me how I intended to kill it.
We went back for the knives.
It was a short distance, but ended up taking longer than either of us could have possibly anticipated. Me—because there wasn’t a way in hell I would have imagined he’d be walking so quickly. Erik—because he simply couldn’t fathom how far the betrayal of his body had gone.
He never said this directly, yet said it a thousand other ways instead.
“For fuck’s sake,” he panted, gripping hard onto the trunk of a tree. It was a slender sapling, only a few years old, and swayed beneath his hand. “For such a little cut, it’s surprisingly effective.”
I threw a painful look to the heavens, forcing myself to hold my tongue.
A little cut.
The first time he’d said the words, I’d patted him consolingly and assured him the fever had destroyed the better parts of his brain. After the second time, I’d lost patience and knelt abruptly in front of him, peeling back the torn fabric so he could see those ‘little cuts’ for himself. He glanced for only a moment; paled, and tried to hide it. He then told me to stop flirting and get to my feet.
This had thrown me so much, I actually did as he said, wondering again what things he could remember, worrying that our trip to the clearing might jog his memories and bring something back.
I found myself so preoccupied with this, I barely noticed when he half-collapsed behind me, swearing at the heavens, and no doubt bringing down all sorts of unholy curses on his head.
“If it’s such a little cut,” I answered, pacing in front of him, “perhaps you should stop talking about it.” I threw a dirty look over my shoulder. “Or we could go with my idea...and rest.”
I’d been horrified when he’d announced his plan and proceeded to heave his body upward, biting his lip to keep from screaming and pressing his hands to the side of the cave. I had thought it impossible he would be standing, let alone walking, until at least a few days had passed. We would stay in the cave, I’d thought. I’d bring up water from the river, haul over branches and make a better shelter. He would recover slowly, with herbs and medicines. We would take things from there.
But Viking men weren’t programmed with the concept of ‘slowly,’ and there was a reason the king had chosen him as an heir. The young man shone with all the vigor and splendor and fierce bravery that our fables demanded. His legs had just forgotten it for a short while.
“Damnit,” he cursed again, stumbling awkwardly behind me.
For a short time, he had tried using a stick to lean on, but upon seeing the ungainliness of his own shadow, he’d broken the stick in half and bluntly declared he would rather die.
This time I circled round, placing a steadying hand on my shoulder.
“What would you say if it was me?” I asked quietly.
No smiles this time. No games. I had spent the last twelve hours wrestling the man out of death’s icy grip; I wasn’t about to lose him to the absurdity of his ego.
I would tell you to rest.
It was the obvious answer, we both knew it. Even now, I could see the words half-rising to his lips. He held them back stubbornly, clenching his teeth and looking me square in the eyes.
“I would carry you,” he replied instead.
A ringing silence fell between us.
He arched a hopeful eyebrow.
I laughed before I could help myself, putting an end to our little game. If I was given a hundred years to practice, I didn’t think I could ever keep track of him. The man was utterly exasperating one moment, and utterly endearing the next. Just when I found myself ready to wring him by the neck, he would lift those damn eyebrows, or flash that mischievous smile.
The one with the little dimples I was coming to love so much.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” I answered, striding forward once again, “but I’ve carried you quite enough. It wasn’t easy, you know—dragging you up that hill in the dead of night. Lest you forget, I was also attacked by the wolves. And my own wounds were rather savage and dramatic.”
I said the words lightly, feeling genuinely uplifted, and never saw the sudden change in his expression, the way his eyes fixed worriedly on the back of my head. I was too busy playing back his words, rolling my eyes with a sarcastic grin.
Carry him.
The boy refused the help of a walking stick, but wished me to carry him instead.
“All that being said, I suppose I’d be willing to try a sort of piggy-back,” I continued, pacing through the trees without only half a mind on where they led. “Or if that’s too undignified for your precious honor, we could always fashion some kind of sling...”
I trailed into silence, freezing to the spot.
We had found the place before I was ready, before I realized we were so close. One moment we were joking in the forest, and the next, the trees had opened into the tiny clearing where we tried to make camp that fateful night. I thought something might have changed about it, that some force of nature might have swept the evidence away. But it looked exactly the same as when we’d left it.
Like a violent kind of grave.
My eyes drifted in a slow circle, taking in all those frightening details my mind had already worked so hard to forget. The deep grooves the wolves had dug into the ground. The patches of splintered bark, where they’d clawed violently at the trees. They were still lying exactly where I’d left them; two heaps of matted fur, their faces pressed to the earth. No scavengers or smaller predators had even come for them yet. The ground was still soaked in human blood.
Gods alive...how did we survive this?
Erik came to stand beside me, placing a silent hand on my shoulder. He’d checked a moment upon seeing the wolves, like at any second they might spring back to life. He studied them now in silence, staring for a long time, until his gaze traveled slowly to my hands.
“Does it hurt?” he asked quietly. “When it happens?”
My eyes lifted to him in surprise. Of all the questions to ask.
“No,” I answered, shaking my head. “It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t always happen when I want it to,” I continued with a sudden stab of guilt, “let alone when I need it to.” My cheeks flushed, and I forced my eyes to his. “Erik, I would have done it so much sooner. Before, when you—”
He shook his head, lifting a hand to silence me. “Don’t—”
“Please let me finish,” I insisted, taking a step away. Not until that very moment, did I realize how much it had been weighing on me. Actually weighing on me, a crushing kind of guilt. I might have killed the wolves in a blink of power, but he’d been fighting them much longer than that. “I kept trying and trying,” I continued in a rough whisper, “but nothing would happen. And then you put yourself in front of me, and they kept...” A violent shudder ripped through me, trembling my knees. “They kept digging at you, and biting at you, and I couldn’t get it to work.” My breath caught sharply, and fresh tears began rolling down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Erik—”
“Hey.” He caught me swiftly, holding me against his chest. “None of that.”
The man might have hobbled all the way to the clearing, cursing every step as his legs started shaking and refused to hold his weight. But he had no trouble standing now. Both arms came up like it was the easiest thing in the world and wrapped around me, holding me close until the crying finally stopped. His lips pressed lightly against the top of my head, as he squeezed me tighter.
“You see this place?” he asked quietly, still clasping me to his chest. “Violence and gore, Liv, but this ended because of you. Those wolves...?” He glanced their way for the barest moment, before angling us the other direction. “They would have killed me. You stopped them, too.”
I pulled in a shuddering breath, refusing to let myself off so easy.
“I only stopped them, after they nearly ripped you to pieces,” I countered miserably, hating myself all the more. “And they only attacked you because we’re out here in these damn woods.”
A sudden memory flashed before my eyes; him standing victorious in the arena, sunlit and smiling, his arms raised in triumph. What a different image it had been, that horrible night in the clearing. Alone in the dark, with not a soul to help him, screaming in agony as they ripped him apart.
Another tear ran down my cheek, and I shook my head.
“You nearly died last night, because you were trying to save me. Fighting with everything you had, and I couldn’t even...” I trailed off in defeat. “I didn’t even get a chance to thank you.”
For this, for everything.
Why does he keep doing it?
For the millionth time, the question echoed in my head.
The man had been given everything. A single look could tell you he was born under some blessed star. The king himself was about to place a crown on top of his head. Yet he chose to run away with a servant girl he’d met a few days earlier. A girl who turned out to be a witch.
A pair of fingers caught my chin, lifting it slowly.
“I wish you would stop doing that,” he said softly.
For a fractured second, I didn’t know what to say. His voice was quiet, but his eyes were shining. Shining and fierce, with some emotion I didn’t quite understand. I shook my head blankly.
“Doing what?”
“Thanking me, for acts of the barest kindness. Apologizing, for things that had never been your fault.” He shook his head slowly, eyes burning into mine. “Do you think for a second, I blame you for our situation? I rescued you from the pyre? We’re only out here in these damn woods because of you?” He shook his head fiercely, emphasizing every word with meticulous care. “You saved my life, Liv. If you hadn’t called out a warning, and sacrificed everything you had, I would be ashes on a pyre myself. Kicked to death by a horse, outside the blacksmith’s shop. An unlikely casualty at the king’s birthday.” His breath was coming quickly, but the rest of him was very still. His hands had risen without thinking, locked on the tops of my arms. “You would thank me for it?”
He lowered his head slightly, staring into my eyes. I didn’t know how to respond until he gave me a small smile as he tucked a braid of mine behind my ear.
“If there is one of us who’s grateful...it’s me.”
* * *
Things got a little easier after that.
We found the knives, that was the most important thing, and we found them quickly. Two glints of silver, peeking out of the leaves. The second this was done, we left the clearing of a single accord and didn’t look once behind us. The memory would be buried; eventually, it would fade.
The sun was bright as we made our way not back to the cave where we’d started, but down to the river, snaking like a silver ribbon through the heart of the valley. It was beautiful, whatever mess lay behind us, and for a moment the two of us stood there, quiet on the overhanging bluff.
“We’ll need to get some clothes,” Erik said softly, almost to himself. His own had been torn quite precariously by the wolves, while I was coming more and more to resemble one of the girls who’d worked in my aunt’s brothel. He apparently thought so too, because he flashed me a sideways grin. “Unless this is some new chapter you’ve started, in which case you have my full support.”
Bastard.
I flashed him a cool smile.
“Your full support, huh? Does that mean you’ll be joining me?” I asked innocently, relishing in the look of blank surprise that flashed across his face. “There’s a market for boys as well.”
His lips parted, but words failed him. In the end, he merely gestured down to the shore. “Shall we?”
That’s what I thought.
It was cooler by the river, but the sun was bright and it was nothing like that deathly chill the night before. We ventured cautiously down to its pebbly banks, leaning on each other more than a little, and casting constant looks in both directions to make sure we were truly alone. The coast was clear, there was no one for miles. We might well have been the only people in the world.
After another glance to be sure, I cast a quick look at Erik. “If anything comes, you can always start screaming again.”
His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile.
“Careful, Liv.” He nodded pointedly at the water. “I know you can’t swim.”
Without further ado, we shuffled down to the water and began the slow, and somewhat bashful process of removing our shoes. It was a difficult procedure, considering the various sores and bruises that were working against us, but we finally got it managed, stepping lightly into the surf.
An involuntary gasp burst from my lips. It was freezing! But at the same time, I couldn’t help but stepping a little deeper, to my ankles. It was cold, but more importantly, it was clean.
We drank first. Little sips, in the beginning, then ravenous gulps, cupped in our hands, as we suddenly realized we were absolutely parched. The rabbit seemed a lifetime before, and the only water we’d had since, had been little drips that had trickled down from the cave’s ceiling. That and the tea brewed from the yarrow. But I had given all of that to him, and I wasn’t sure it would count.
“We should clean up a little,” he said, when we were finally finished. We had retreated from the current and were sitting together on the shore. His eyes flashed quickly to my face, before falling to the safety of his lap. “Especially if we’re going into a town. We might...”
He trailed away, and I caught his eye with a smile.
“...scare the villagers?” I guessed.
He cracked a grin, and nodded. “Me more than you, I’m sure.”
I’m sure.
The conversation went silent, as a sudden awkwardness sprang between us. After a few seconds had passed, he pushed stiffly to his feet. “I’ll just be...” He gestured further up the shore.
I nodded quickly, and headed in the opposite direction—unable to keep from casting a swift glance over my shoulder, wondering if he’d done the same. The two of us had bled together, fought together. We’d hid from the shadows chasing us and tended each other’s wounds. In truth, I’d seen more of his body than any other man in my entire life. He’d probably seen more of mine.
But this felt different. The sun was up, and we were modest once again. With the blushing cheeks of two teenagers, we scurried off in opposite directions, taking shelter behind the large clusters of rocks, as we began the slow process of undressing to wash.
Twisted hells!
I yanked my blouse towards my head, then grimaced in spite of myself, slowing down my movements dramatically and giving up just as fast. Instead of pulling my arms from the sleeves, I simply unlaced the front. It was short enough now this did the trick, reaching only to the bottom of my ribs. It fell open in the front, and for the first time in days, I looked down at my naked skin.
Much as it pained me to admit it, Erik was right.
We would have scared the villagers.
It wasn’t just the bruises. The woods were dangerous on the best of days, and people suffered falls and other minor injuries all the time. It was the dirt. And the soot. And the blood.
So. Very. Much. Blood.
I jumped in my skin, the second I saw it—fighting the urge to clamp my hands over my chest and scream for help. A little goes a long way, Karmen’s voice echoed again in my ears. It was the kind of stain that was always more theatric than was real. You’d wipe away a violent swath, only to reveal a tiny cut. And yet, a part of me simply balked at the sight.
It looked as if I’d been ripped to pieces, beaten to within an inch of my life. Or perhaps I’d merely been painted, set to vibrant color to play a part in some ghastly play. Most of it was old and dried, protected by the rain from the tight weave of my clothes and Erik’s cloak. But there were four raking gashes in my shoulder where the wolf had dug at me in the trees. Those stains were fresh.
My heart quickened and I thought again of the yarrow.
I should drink some tea myself.
With as much delicacy as possible, I slid the rest of the clothes from my bony hips and stepped tentatively into the current. It was cold enough to make me gasp again, swirling in foaming eddies around my knees. Unwilling to get inside any further, I merely scrubbed instead—splashing the water half-heartedly on my arms and legs, before finally giving up and ducking under my head.
I screamed as the cold hit me, muffled in the sound of the waves. It felt so nice, I instantly did so again. Then again, and again. A part of me had wanted to scream for a very long time.
I was a child born in winter, and my body adjusted to the temperature before long. Or rather, it went numb and I ceased to mind it. I stayed there for quite some time, unweaving my braids and scrubbing at my scalp, raking my fingers through my dark hair until it flowed smooth and clean and silky in the water around me. I had waded up to the waist, by then, but dared to go no further. Erik might have been teasing, but he was also right. I couldn’t swim, and the current was strong, even in the lazy heart of summer. I finished abruptly, and went back for my clothes, beating them against the rocks, until the worst of the stains had left them. Unfortunately, that made the tears quite a bit worse, and when I tugged them back on, they were on the brink of functionality.
I bit my lip, glancing in the direction where Erik had vanished.
Well, this will make things LESS awkward.
“Are you decent?”
I heard his voice a second later, echoing over the splashing waves. He’d actually been finished for quite a while, having feared the return of the wolves more than he was letting on, but there was nothing about his tone that would indicate it. When I emerged from the clutch of rocks where I’d been bathing, his face broke into a welcoming smile.
“Feel better?” he asked.
I nodded a bit bashfully, my dripping clothes still clinging to my skin. The sun would dry them in a few hours, but until then, they left little to the imagination. My eyes flicked to his own soaking ensemble. The tear in his pants had opened from the thigh, to the shin.
“I feel clean,” I answered, still avoiding his gaze, “but as for decent...?” I trailed away, and he actually laughed. “What are the chances we find some new clothes, before we freeze to death?”
Or I simply die of shame?
“Chances are good,” he answered kindly, taking the cloak from his shoulders and draping it graciously over mine. His skin was still pale from his dip in the river, but his eyes were sparkling and he looked wide awake. “They can’t be thinking we’ll continue north,” he added, casting a look away from the direction of the settlement, and towards the distant peaks. “My bet is the bulk of the force will be heading east, as that’s where the best trails lie. But regardless of which path they choose, we’ve made good time and they’ll be traveling heavy—at their own inconvenience. There’s a very good chance we can reach a settlement ahead of them, and leave before they arrive.”
There was a pause, before he added, “As long as it’s small enough.”
I blinked at him in silence, it took a minute to understand. “...because of the ravens?”
He nodded silently, still staring towards the peaks.
A shiver ran over my shoulders, as I followed his gaze—glancing back every now and again in the opposite direction. The army might have been traveling slow, laden down with all those precious supplies we so badly wanted ourselves, but in order to spread the news of our escape, they needed only to send a raven. The townsfolk would be gleefully waiting with pitchforks and spears.
Everybody hates a witch.
“Will anywhere be safe?” I asked, suddenly fearful. I wanted a new blouse as much as the next girl, a hatchet and some weapons would be nice as well. But not if it meant walking into a trap.
He hesitated a split second, before nodding again.
“I think so,” he replied, with more reluctance than I was comfortable with. “Like I said, we’ll keep it small. Most of the hamlets tucked around the river are fishing villages that change from one season to the next—depending on the flooding. The soldiers will send birds to places they’re certain they’ll be received. A handful of transient shepherds or boatmen...that should be safe.”
Safe being a relative term.
My village was supposed to be safe as well.
“How do you know all that?” I asked abruptly, turning to face him.
He’d been born a hundred leagues from here, high in the northern mountains. What did a bannerman’s son know about the habits of fishing villages in the southern lands?
He paused a moment, before answering. “My father taught me.”
