The Blood-Tainted Winter (9 page)

The woman led them down into a narrow mountain valley filled with pine trees. They entered the forest and the sound of running water came to Raef’s ears. Not long after, glimpses of a waterfall could be seen between the trees and they altered their course to stay alongside the rocky stream that rushed away from the waterfall’s deep pool.

At the pool, the way seemed to end, but the woman did not hesitate. Her white robes trailing in the edge of the pool, she traversed the rock-strewn shore until she could pass behind the falling water. In an instant, the waterfall veiled her from view.

Raef instructed most of his warriors to remain by the pool with the gear and horses, then led the remainder behind the waterfall. The rocks were slippery and the way was dark, but the tunnel was wider than he expected; three men could ride across if need be. Faint light could be seen ahead and soon the tunnel opened up into a cavern that was as large as any hall Raef had ever seen.

The cavern was lit, though by what Raef was not certain. If there were openings and cracks in the rock ceiling, they were well-hidden, and no fire was burning. Other than a single, large stone in the center that had been roughly hewn to have a flat surface, the space seemed empty. The woman stood near the stone and gestured for Raef to join her.

“You have not even asked my name or purpose.”

“What difference does it make?”

Raef closed the distance between them and saw that a shallow bowl had been carved into the rock. It was filled with water. The woman took his hand and placed it, palm down, on the water’s surface. Raef resisted the urge to retract his hand for the water was unexpectedly warm. The woman closed her eyes for a moment and then removed a cup from inside her robe. She dipped it into the water, drank, and then dipped again, this time offering it to Raef. He took his hand from the water and accepted the cup, raising it to his lips. Up to this point, he had kept his eyes on the woman’s face, but something drew them to the cup and he hesitated for a moment upon seeing that the water, so clear in the basin, had turned the color of the night sky. He looked at the woman again but said nothing and downed the contents. The liquid was vile in taste but Raef swallowed hard and steeled his face.

“I have been patient,” Raef said after wiping his mouth, “but now I think it is time you played your part.”

The woman continued to study him, her cold smile in place. “And what is my part?”

“You are meant to give answers, not ask useless questions.” Raef could feel his ire rising and sought to calm himself. He took a step back and exhaled deeply. “I come on behalf of Brandulf Hammerling.”

“Yes, and he seeks knowledge about this war, foolish man.” She paused and her eyes grew bright. “Tell me, do you know yet who killed your father?”

Raef grew still. Of all things, he had not prepared for this. The journey north had not quenched his desire for retribution, but it had given him the space and time to mold his anger into an ember in place of a blaze. He did not want to put a spark to it again, not until he could be certain of what must be done. “My father’s death is not why I have come.”

“Then you do not know.” She seemed to be enjoying this.

Raef clenched his hands into fists. “The war, lady, what can you tell us of it?”

She stepped close to him and said softly, “How well do you know your friends?” Her eyes slid over his shoulder, toward his companions, and then back to his face.

“They are not your concern. Do you intend to answer my questions or must I find a way to persuade you?” Raef put a hand on the hilt of his sword and was glad to see her smile falter for the blink of an eye.

“Your father would be ashamed to see you now.”

Raef’s control vanished and his sword was out of its scabbard and at her throat before he knew what he had done. “Do not speak of my father!” His voice rang off the cavern walls.

A hand settled on his shoulder and Vakre’s voice penetrated his anger. “Perhaps you both might start again.”

Raef kept his sword up for a moment, then let it drop and turned on his heel. Brushing between Siv and Eira, he left the cavern.

The air outside was brisk. Both the temperature and the sun seemed to have dropped farther than Raef would have expected given the small amount of time he had been in the cavern, but his mind gave it only a passing thought as he strode away from the waterfall. The Deepminded’s words rang in his ears, though he wanted to push them away. The cold air only seemed to solidify them.

It was Eira who approached him first. She did not offer comfort, instead came to stand beside him and said, “I would have killed her.”

Raef turned to look at Eira and said, “I know.” There was nothing amusing in either statement. Eira’s fierce nature had drawn him in, but this very brashness made him wonder if he could trust her. She had sparked the fight with the Danewyll men, proving her battle-lust was stronger than her judgment. As Raef studied her face, he knew many things lurked beneath the surface, but they remained unknown to him. And yet, he still wanted her.

Suddenly Raef felt only weariness. The anger and questions melted away, leaving nothing but a tired mind and spent limbs. He sighed. “Vakre is right. I must begin again. I must not allow her to provoke me.” He turned back to the waterfall and readied himself to return to the Deepminded.

Raef had gone only a few steps when Vakre stepped in front of him. He was pale and agitated. “I ask you, as a friend, do not go back in there.” His voice was soft but Raef heard unease in it.

“What do you mean? You yourself said we should start over.”

“I only said that because she was listening.”

“She will not be able to goad me again.”

“It does not matter. None of it matters.”

“I ask you again, what do you mean?” Raef was losing patience.

“It is too dangerous.”

“I am well protected. Do not press me, Vakre.” Raef stepped around him and continued on to the cavern.

“The fire arrows, Raef,” Vakre called after him. “There was no fire behind those rocks, and nothing to make one with. Where did it come from?”

Raef pushed Vakre’s words from his mind and passed behind the waterfall once again, this time alone. The cavern was darker and the air seemed heavy and thick. The woman was where he had left her, though she was standing now with her back to him.

“Lady,” he began, “we have both done wrong to the other. I will forget it if you will.”

She turned to face him. “I have done you no wrong, only spoken that which you did not wish to hear.”

“If you know who is responsible for my father’s death, I will gladly hear you. But later. I have come here for another reason.”

“The war then,” she said, her voice hollow. “You are all going to die. There is nothing more to say.”

“Death does not frighten me, lady,” Raef said, his voice hard. “Who raises their banners for Fengar? Where will he strike first?”

She laughed at that, a harsh sound that filled the space. “You have come so far for answers you could have found much closer to home.” She stepped forward, then, and grabbed Raef’s wrist. He tried to wrench away, his skin tingling at the burning heat in her touch, but she seemed suddenly possessed of much greater strength and held him close. “Death will come with fire and water. Perhaps even now it is here. Behind you.” She released him, just as the heat was too much to bear, and Raef spun out of her grasp only to come face to face with an armored warrior.

Twelve

T
he air in
the cavern seemed to have vanished and Raef struggled to draw breath, the burning sensation on his wrist spreading up to his shoulder. The warrior loomed in front of him, eyes dark, almost black. Raef swayed on his feet, panic rising within him, and fumbled for his sword. The warrior lunged for Raef, hands outstretched as though to choke him. Raef pushed away, his sword weak in his grip, the blade slicing air.

Still without good footing and control, Raef stepped forward, aiming for the warrior’s chest. His opponent batted Raef’s sword away with ease and now held his own, though Raef had never seen him draw it out. Raef fought to clear his vision and advanced again, but every stroke was deflected as though he were a child at play.

The warrior seemed content to continue this play, never attacking, letting Raef swing away and stumble across the cavern floor. The heat from the woman’s fingers had spread everywhere now and Raef felt sweat dripping down his neck as his arm grew heavy. They reached the cavern’s entrance and Raef made a desperate lunge, his vision and strength nearly gone. The warrior stepped out of the way and Raef tumbled forward through the waterfall, letting his sword fall as he went.

The cold water shocked the breath out of him and he sucked in icy water as he plunged into the pool. Thrashing, he rose to the surface and looked up, waiting for the death blow to fall on him, but saw only Vakre, his face concerned and his arm outstretched to help Raef from the pool.

Raef’s gaze darted around. “Where is he? Where did he go?” He continued to tread water and did not take Vakre’s hand.

“Who?” Vakre’s brow was furrowed.

“That man. He tried to kill me.” Raef blinked away the water from his eyes; his vision had returned. Then he saw that Vakre held a sword in his other hand. “You?” Mistrust flooded through him. “But you wore red. And your eyes, they were black.”

“I am as you see me, Raef. I followed you in there. You turned on me.” Vakre slid his sword back into its scabbard and spread his empty hands. “I had to defend myself.”

Raef stayed in the water, though the cold was beginning to set in. “I know what I saw.”

“You were not yourself.”

“Come out of the water, Raef.” Siv had joined Vakre at the edge of the pool and Eira stood not far behind them. In that moment, they were like strangers to Raef and the Deepminded’s words returned to him, unwelcome and unbidden. Vakre extended a hand again, but Raef pulled himself out on the opposite side of the pool, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of what he had seen and done.

His friends tried to approach him, but Raef held out a hand and shook his head. Words failed him and all he could do was walk away. The pool had taken the heat from his body, but not the heat from his mind. Thoughts burned within him, doubts searing into his very being, but they seemed to trickle in as though they belonged to someone else and were being whispered in his ear. Raef shook his head again, trying to clear it.

His feet carried him away from the pool and into the pine trees. The shadows between the trees and the peaceful air seemed to quiet his thoughts, and Raef sank to the ground in relief. How long he stayed there, he did not know, but twilight was upon them when Vakre found him.

Vakre said nothing, waiting until Raef was ready to speak. “You are right, I was not myself.” Raef lifted his wrist, looking for marks he was sure the woman must have left, but found none. “There is some poison at work in me,” he continued, struggling to find the right words.

“Not poison, I think,” Vakre said. “Words can be just as powerful when spoken by the right tongue.”

“No, her touch, it burned me until my mind was not my own.”

Vakre kept silent.

“We will not find help here. The Hammerling will have to seek answers by other means,” Raef said. Vakre extended a hand and this time Raef took it, though the whispers in his head stirred as he came to his feet.

The men were waiting by the pool when they returned, but Siv and Eira appeared from behind the waterfall at their approach. “She is gone,” Siv called out. They both appeared on edge, weapons out, and Raef knew they had gone in to confront the Deepminded.

“Best that she is, for her own health,” Eira said.

Raef said, “There was no other way out of there. No one saw her leave?” The men confirmed this and Raef started toward the cavern again. Vakre pulled him back.

“Let us be gone from this place,” Vakre said. Raef looked at Vakre’s hand on his wrist, seeing instead the woman’s, and felt a rush of fear and anger. Vakre seemed to sense this and let go, but held his ground.

Raef closed his eyes and tried to summon up the peace he had found in the forest. It would not come. “We will go,” he said. “After I know where she has gone.” Pulling the axe from his belt, Raef went back behind the waterfall, not caring if the others followed.

The cavern was dark and still, but for the dripping of water. The stone and basin stood as they had, but the stone seemed smaller and the basin was bone dry. Raef walked along the back of the cavern, looking for hidden exits but finding nothing. He retraced his steps, sure he had missed something. Again, the rock wall was solid. The others had joined him by this point, though no one searched as persistently as Raef.

“It was lighter before, was it not?” Raef asked. No one answered. He looked toward the ceiling, remembering that he had earlier thought there were holes there. Everything seemed dark. “Keep looking.” The others paced the stone floor again, but Raef felt they lacked conviction. “It must be here,” he said.

“Raef.” Siv’s voice was gentle. Raef turned and found her close to him, her eyes dark with concern. “We should go.” The calm of the forest came back to him, then, as though her eyes carried him there.

He nodded, defeated. “She is in my head, Siv,” he whispered, desperate to convey his fear to someone.

Siv rested a hand on his shoulder. “We will get her out.” She traced a finger on his jaw. “Come, Vakre is right. We must go. This place,” she paused and her gaze roamed around before coming back to rest on Raef’s face, “it is not right. Not of this world.” She took his hand and led him from the cavern for the last time. As they passed by the waterfall, Raef paused, letting the spray dampen his face.

The sound of the rocks breaking apart was almost drowned out by the thundering waterfall. Raef had just enough time to leap to the side as the cavern began to cave in on itself. Rocks tumbled down, smashing into each other like stone giants and blocking the entrance. Before the dust even cleared, Raef was back in among the boulders and the spray of the waterfall, trying to see if anyone was trapped or killed. An arm reaching out between two rocks was answer enough.

“Fasolt. And Gunthar,” Vakre said, wincing as he got to his feet. “They were behind me.”

Raef counted and saw that they were the only two missing. “This is Gunthar’s armband,” he said, indicating the gleaming cuff on the trapped arm. He felt for a pulse on the wrist. “He is dead.”

There was no sign of Fasolt, but Raef and the others began to clear what rocks they could move. Shouting his name drew no response, but still they toiled. Raef would not leave until he knew if Fasolt lived or died. Once a small hole near the top of the slide was cleared, Eira wormed her head and shoulders in.

“I see him,” she said, her voice muffled.

“Movement?” Raef asked.

“No. His head bleeds.” Eira emerged from amid the rocks. “I think the gods have claimed him.”

“I will not leave him here if there is a chance of life,” Raef said. Fasolt and Gunthar were men of Vannheim. He would save one if he could.

“If we take more rocks out, we stand a chance of pulling everything down,” Vakre said.

“Is he within the reach of a spear?” Raef asked.

Eira shook her head. “But perhaps two, if lashed together.”

Using strips of leather offered up by one of the Hammerling’s men, Vakre and Raef bound two spears together. It was crude but would serve. Eira climbed back up to the hole and Raef handed the spears up to her. She threaded them into the hole butt end first.

“Anything?”

“Odin’s eye, give me a moment,” Eira said. Raef fingered the hammer around his neck as he waited. Eira withdrew her head and handed the spears back down, her face grim. “His eyes are open but stare at nothing.”

“Then may Odin curse the Deepminded,” Raef said. His anger was strong, and yet still he felt her presence, still that voice whispered thoughts of mistrust and doubt. “I will kill her before I go to Valhalla.” There was nothing left to keep them by the pool, but Raef was reluctant to leave. Whether this was caused by the Deepminded or his own sense of failure, he could not be sure. The men were quiet, and it was with a heavy heart that Raef returned to the forest, the roar of the waterfall fading behind them.

They trekked back the way they had come, winding down into Darfallow. Night fell, but Raef pushed them on, not wanting to intrude on Farro’s grief. They made camp on the shore of a lake south of Darfallow’s fortress. Sindri showed them how to catch fish in the dark and a man called Norl sang tales of forgotten heroes by firelight. The mood was somber and yet Raef felt tied to every man, even the Hammerling’s, in a way he had not been before. When the fire died down, sleep came for Raef, but only in pieces. When he woke, his dreams were lost to him, but the heat he felt when Vakre offered him a cup of water and Eira asked after his shoulder made him certain he had dreamt of the Deepminded.

The moors south of Darfallow were spotted with snow, but that was not all Raef could see when they passed over a rise, the land spreading out in front of them. A swarm of men were breaking camp and readying horses. Raef had his men draw back from the rise and then crept forward on his belly, Vakre at his side.

“What do you think?”

Vakre was quiet for a moment as he scanned the warriors. “Perhaps two hundred.”

Raef nodded his agreement. “The air is too still to show the banners.”

“Who would come so far north with so many men?”

“Someone who thinks to intimidate Tormund into pledging his battle-strength. They will be disappointed.” They returned to the group. “We must learn more,” Raef said. He looked at the remaining Hammerling men. “I need four of you to act as prisoners. I will deliver you to whoever leads them, be it Fengar or Torrulf, as a show of loyalty and goodwill. With luck, we will get some answers for the Hammerling. The rest of you, shed anything that would link you to him.”

The volunteers were bound and three men left to guard the horses. Raef led the party downhill and they were soon spotted by a pair of scouts, who raced to confront them, spears out and demanding to know who they were.

Raef held out his hands to show he meant no harm. “I am Raef Skallagrim, lord of Vannheim, and I bring traitors to you.”

The scouts exchanged a look and then one spoke. “We will bring you to Fengar.” They kept their spears lowered and rode on both sides of Raef’s party.

Raef, his voice lowered, spoke to Vakre as they walked. “Your uncle may be here. Will he wonder at your sudden appearance?”

“Perhaps. But I think Fengar will be more interested in you.”

“Let us hope so.”

Fengar did not appear to be in a hurry. From a distance, the camp had appeared orderly to Raef, but as they drew near, he could see that discipline was lacking. Some captains had their men ready and waiting, while others scrambled to wake sleeping warriors. Fengar himself was still inside his tent and it was here that the scouts passed Raef off to a trio of guards, the blonde sisters Raef had seen at the gathering, and stepped within the folds to deliver their message. The wait was short, and the cloth was soon drawn aside. The guards stripped Raef of his sword and axe and he entered alone.

The first face he saw was Stefnir of Gornhald’s. Mistrust was writ cleanly on the older man’s face. Raef ignored him and searched out Fengar, who lurked deeper in the tent. He approached the would-be king without reverence, as one warrior would another.

“Skallagrim,” Fengar said.

“I come with prisoners. The Hammerling’s men. They were traveling to Darfallow.”

“And you? What are you doing so far north?”

Raef did not lie. “I sought the Deepminded, but I think my path is clearer now.” Fengar seemed to like this. “Do you wish to question them?”

Fengar waved a hand. “Later.” He poured ale for himself. “I know the Hammerling has chosen rebellion. Tell me, what of Vannheim?”

“Vannheim is loyal to those who can offer her something,” Raef said. He heard Stefnir grunt behind him, but Fengar smiled.

“Smart. A lord should not promise his spears too lightly. What would you have of me?” Fengar poured a second cup and handed it to Raef.

Raef had no response for this. “We will speak of that another time.” He took a drink of ale. “Your destination must be Darfallow.” Fengar nodded. “Let me save you the trouble. Tormund Ravenbane is dead.”

“Impossible. My scouts met with him only yesterday.”

Raef frowned. “And yet two days ago I saw his body and helped burn it.”

“He lies, lord.” Stefnir of Gornhald moved close to Fengar.