‘Could be today,’ Sigurd yawned, stretching out his leg. It was feeling strong again, and he was conscious of how soon he would need to be fighting off Hakon’s warriors. He didn’t want to be weak before he even began. The wounds in his back didn’t trouble him until he lay in bed at night, or tried to dress or use a bow. Sigurd shook his head.

It was not ideal.

They stood on the low wall, staring at the frozen field that led to the forest, now buried in snow.

Reinar remembered riding into the forest with Alys, and he felt odd. He remembered riding into the forest with Elin too.

‘Could be. Though the snow might have slowed them down. Maybe even killed a few horses or men.’

‘Ahhh, now you’re just trying to make yourself feel better,’ Sigurd grinned. ‘Likely Hakon has more than enough horses and men not to notice losing a few. Not sure he’d care either way. Not if he’s anything like his father.’

That was true. Reinar’s scouts had been slowly returning over the past few days. He had sent them further inland, hoping those more remote lords would have men to spare, though none had offered their help. All were too worried about the threat posed by Hakon’s men, whether that threat was imminent or not.

‘Father always said you had to pay attention to your own plan. Not theirs. They can defeat you without ever unsheathing a sword or unleashing a boulder.’ Reinar tapped his head, almost feeling Stellan standing between them, one hand on each shoulder as he’d done since they were boys. ‘If

they get inside here. If they make you believe in their invincibility. If they make you focus on your weaknesses, then you’ve already lost.’

‘He did.’ Sigurd nodded, eyes dropping lower. The fort was protected by two walls, both thick with stone and ringed with ramparts that offered solid protection for their archers. Built that way to make it nigh on impenetrable.

They had strengths.

Stone and fire. Oil and warmth. Food and shelter. Arrows too.

They might not have the men to send them in great numbers anymore, but Tulia’s women were getting stronger, and there would be enough arrows to terrorise Hakon’s army for days.

If they could keep them safe.

‘Stellan held this fort for Ake, but for us also,’ Reinar said, turning to his brother. ‘For our family. For who we would become.’

Sigurd nodded.

Reinar swept an arm around the fort, chest tight. ‘Those who remain will fight for us, but we have to lead because Ottby matters to us. To our family. Our father’s oath is our oath. We will hold the fort, and we will hold the bridge.’

Sigurd could sense his brother’s body vibrating, his eyes sharp and determined as he leaned on the rampart wall, and it gave him a lift. A sense of purpose.

‘I know Tulia wants you to leave, but you can’t, you know that.’ ‘I do.’

‘We have to fight together, for Stellan.’

‘We will. They won’t get in. We won’t let them. ‘No, we won’t let them.’

Hakon was astounded.

Thrilled.

He eyed Mother with an open mouth. ‘You did this?’

When it came to his ornery old dreamer and her gifts, Hakon wasn’t sure what was true and what was Mother merely twisting reality into what

was most pleasing to her lord’s ears. Her lord’s ears were numb with cold but eager to hear what she had to say.

Mother smiled back, eyes on the melting slush. ‘Well, I put in a… request,’ she chuckled. ‘We are lucky I have such useful friends.’

It was not warm, but the snow was melting so rapidly beneath a generous sun that Hakon didn’t care about his ice-cold face and his numb hands. ‘You are a wonder, Mother Arnesson!’ he announced gleefully, turning to Lief, who could still not raise a smile. His eyes were on Mother’s tent, where a sleepy-looking Falla had emerged with the girl.

For all the help Mother was being, Lief felt uneasy about his wife becoming a part of whatever darkness the old woman was conjuring up. He didn’t want to lose Falla. She was more precious to him than anything, and he’d seen how capricious Mother could be; how quick to anger. He only hoped that Falla would do everything she could to keep the old woman happy.

‘We should move quickly, lord,’ Lief suggested as Falla made her way to the nearest fire where servants were dishing up bowls of hot porridge. ‘We could make great progress today if we head off soon.’

Hakon nodded, his appetite for progress greater than his appetite for the steaming porridge, which he didn’t enjoy anyway. ‘I agree. Where’s Ivan?’ He scanned the smoky campsite, cloak sweeping around him.

‘Still in his tent, lord,’ Lief said, sensing Falla watching him. ‘He’s yet to emerge. I believe he has… one of the servants in there with him.’

Hakon turned away, hiding his irritation. ‘Well, you don’t need my cousin to get your own men moving, do you, Lief Gundersen? And the rest of them surely know what to do!’ He felt incensed. Ivan took his position as head of the army as seriously as he took everything else. He was an exceptional warrior, a talented leader, but he lacked discipline. He gave into every desire and whim, with little thought for consequences.

And though Hakon was generally predisposed to let Ivan be Ivan, now, when everything was on the line, when they were this close to victory, he wanted to kill him.

His eyes remained sharp as he turned to Ulrick, who was looking uncertainly at the girl. ‘Mother and Falla will take care of her,’ Hakon said distractedly, further irritated. He didn’t want to be thinking about girls or women at all. ‘You needn’t worry, Ulrick. The safest place to be in all of Alekka is by Mother’s side. She’s a powerful woman, as you can see by this

beautiful sunshine!’ And beaming again, Hakon headed for his horse, shutting all thoughts of Ivan out of his mind.

Alys found Stina with Ludo and his group of women. He was red-faced and flustered, trying to ensure that everything would work seamlessly, but the women were always bringing up ways to improve upon his ideas, and Ludo was starting to doubt who was in charge.

He hadn’t noticed when Alys had pulled Stina away to go for a walk. ‘She won’t kill Lotta,’ Stina said after Alys had revealed her dream.

‘For what would she hold over you then?’ ‘But what does she want?’

Stina didn’t know. ‘To threaten you? To stop you helping Reinar defend the fort?’

They walked to Valera’s Tree, Winter bounding along next to them, his white legs quickly splattered with mud.

‘But if I don’t help him, we may not survive what’s coming.’

Stina looked troubled. ‘What if it was just a dream? Your fears coming to life? Perhaps the old dreamer doesn’t have Lotta at all? How would she have her? It makes no sense.’

Alys started to let herself believe that Stina might be right, but she knew she wasn’t. She smiled, though, not wanting to worry her friend further. Stina looked anxious to leave, pale and fidgety. ‘You’re right.’ She tried to smile, her eyes on Ludo in the distance, who appeared to be searching for his missing crew member. ‘You’d better go back. I have to visit Eddeth. See what else she found in her book.’

Stina wasn’t listening. She had just seen Torvig approaching with Amir, and quickly spinning away from Alys, she hurried back to Ludo without a word.

Alys turned around to say something to her, surprised to find her gone. ‘Ahhh, the dreamer!’ Torvig announced, stopping before Alys, his eyes

quickly drifting from her face to her breasts. ‘And what news do you have, I wonder? Will our enemy be at the gates today? Perhaps tomorrow? They must be getting close. Surely you can tell us what you know?’ He’d seen Alys talking to Stina, and it had him on edge, wondering just what the

dreamer would discover. He wanted to distract her, hoping to keep her attention away from his little friend until he could think of what to do with them both.

Alys looked to Amir whose attention was on the training ring, searching for Ilene, and spotting her, he slipped away. Alys turned to Torvig, wishing she hadn’t just been left alone with him. ‘They’ll be here soon, I think. Very soon.’ That feeling was surprisingly clear now, like a mountain appearing before her. ‘I must go and see what I can do to help.’

Torvig grabbed her arm, pinching it as she tried to leave. ‘Keep your mind on what you can do to help Reinar save the fort. To keep these people safe. Not on how you can get into his bed and become his new wife.’ He was smiling, as though they were just talking, his eyes twinkling, but his voice was full of warning. ‘He already has one of those. My sister. And as soon as we’re done here, I’m going to help him get her back. And I can promise you, Elin won’t want you here when she returns.’ Torvig dropped her arm, watching Alys with a smile as she stumbled, hurrying away.

The weather was improving, Jonas thought, eyes on Magnus, who appeared alert. They had worked hard to feed him over the past few days, and his cheeks looked fuller, and his eyes much brighter than when they’d found him. He appeared to have slept well, and now he rode along on his pony, wrapped in Jonas’ bed fur, which looked to be keeping him warm.

It was all they could do, and Jonas hoped Alys would feel comforted if she could see him in her dreams. He thought of his granddaughter often, never imagining that he would have encouraged her dreams with such enthusiasm. But he had never been more grateful to know that she was a dreamer. That she was out there, somewhere, guiding them.

He turned to Magnus with a grin. ‘You really think Lotta’s a dreamer? She’s very young. Not sure I’ve heard of someone so little having dreams before.’

Magnus had been thinking the same thing, and he almost bit his tongue in surprise. ‘Yes, I do. The more I think about it, the more it all makes sense. There were things I saw before, but I didn’t understand them. Things

my mother would say, or do, as though she could see inside my head. Lotta’s the same.’

Jonas laughed. ‘I know how that goes. Your thoughts are never your own around a dreamer!’

Vik rode quietly beside them, his eyes constantly sweeping the trees. ‘Do you think these men could make it to Slussfall, Magnus? How ill were they?’

Magnus tried to remember. ‘One looked ill. The other man? The one who had Lotta… I’m not sure if he was ill at all.’ He hated seeing images of Long Beard. It made him angry and impatient, but the days stretched ahead of them like the winding mountains, and Magnus was old enough to know that they could not push their horses too hard. Nor themselves. Not in this dangerous weather.

Vik looked relieved. ‘We can only hope that’s so. Best your sister has someone to care for her, no matter who he might be or what he might do.’ His eyes met Jonas’, and he saw the concern in them.

‘But how far away is Slussfall?’ Magnus wondered, already hungry again. He didn’t want to say so, though, knowing that both men were working hard to feed him before they fed themselves.

‘We’re getting there slowly. We may even be able to start tracking them soon, wouldn’t you say?’ He glanced at Vik, who nodded.

‘There aren’t many roads from here leading to Slussfall. We’ll crest the mountains soon, so we can ask about those men in Vallen. See if there’s been any sign of them. We can’t just ride straight into the fortress. We’ll need to approach it with care.’

Magnus looked hopeful and worried, and everything in between. His mother had tasked him with looking after Lotta, and he had lost her to those men; allowed them both to be captured. He felt terrible, but he knew that the only thing he could focus on now was getting Lotta back.

He tried not to think about his mother at all.

They were on the road again quickly, and Lotta felt ill.

Mother had burned strange-smelling herbs for much of the night, sometimes chanting, other times muttering angrily. It had been frightening

and disturbing, and more than Lotta had ever wanted to see and know about dreamers.

Though, she knew in her heart that dreamers weren’t like this woman. This woman was evil.

Falla had forced food into her, which she hadn’t wanted. And now, the rocking, creaking wagon was making her sick. They had left the mountains behind and were on flat terrain, but it was a bumpy ride, the road littered with holes from all the rain they’d been experiencing for months.

Falla felt sick too. She blew small breaths out through her nose, trying not to vomit, not wanting to inhale the smell of the stinking bird flapping irritably in its cage beside her.

‘That will be the baby,’ Mother grinned, one arm around Lotta, squeezing her tightly.

‘What?’ Falla was certain she would vomit now. ‘What? But you gave me those seeds. You told me they would work!’ She did not want a child. Not now. Not when she didn’t know how things would turn out. She wanted peace before she thought of such things again. ‘I don’t understand!’

Mother laughed, patting Lotta on the shoulder. ‘Ahhh, being a woman is always the same, no matter how high we rise or how far we fall. We must provide sons and heirs. Always sons and heirs! But that one there,’ she grinned, pointing at Falla’s belly. ‘That will be a daughter. Raven-haired, just like her miserable father.’ Falla looked even more horrified, amusing Mother further. She watched Falla’s pretty face contort itself with fury, before turning to Lotta. ‘Though your mother was pleased to have you, wasn’t she? Another little dreamer.’

Lotta froze, wondering if she had any secrets from the old woman. Knowing the answer.

‘We must turn our attention to the battle now. To our role,’ Mother smiled. ‘For we will have one, won’t we? We will have the most important role of all.’ She pinched Lotta’s chubby cheek. ‘The famous walls of Ottby will not be broken by men, though it shall be amusing to watch them try. No, we must work hard to find a way into the fort that nobody has thought of before. But do not worry, my little pet, for there are many secrets yet to be revealed. And I am the mistress of all of them!’

When Alys reached Eddeth’s cottage, Eddeth was outside, watering her herbs. She had a small garden planted along the front of her house in a selection of old wooden buckets, though most of the herbs appeared dead, Alys thought as Eddeth rushed her inside, slamming the door behind her with a sneeze.

‘Oh, the night I’ve had!’ she exclaimed, pulling a damp cloth from her sleeve and loudly blowing her nose. ‘A night of revelations!’

Alys was rattled by her own dream and her conversation with Torvig, and she wasn’t sure she wanted any more revelations. ‘You have?’ she asked hesitantly, taking a stool.

Eddeth rushed over to her cauldron which was stewing something rich and meaty, stirring it with vigour. And adding a few sprigs of thyme, she stirred some more, sniffing. ‘Mushroom and nettle stew! A little bit of rabbit too!’ Eddeth smiled, reading the look on Alys’ face. ‘You can have some if you like.’ She instantly regretted that, feeling ravenous after her long night, but Alys shook her head, and Eddeth looked relieved as she took a seat next to her. ‘You are troubled?’

Alys was surprised that she’d noticed. Eddeth seemed very set on her own path, almost oblivious to others for much of the time. ‘I… had a dream. It was disturbing. Upsetting.’

‘Oh?’ Eddeth waited, but Alys remained silent, hands out to the fire. ‘Well, I expect it can be that way. Dreams often become nightmares, don’t they? Life can become the same. What you think you want often turns into everything you don’t need.’ She drifted away, seeing her own life in fragments, lost for a moment.

‘But you had a good night? You found something in your book?’

‘I did!’ Eddeth jumped off the tree stump, hurrying to her bed, grabbing the book. ‘I did!’ She opened it onto one of the first pages, running a dirty fingernail under a line, squinting. ‘My grandmother said Valera first came to her when she was a child. They became friends. She helped her with her dreams, spoke to her of humans, shared her knowledge. Over the years, she would visit her often, revealing some of the problems the gods had. The rivalries…’ Eddeth sat up straight, eyes on Alys. ‘Just like brothers and sisters, you know! Oh, I hated my brother. He was a stupid boy with teeth like a horse. Could chew his way through anything. Even wood!’ Eddeth shook her head, lost in her memories.

Alys held her gaze, waiting.

Eventually, Eddeth’s eyes sharpened again. ‘Where was I? Yes, oh, the gods! They fight like siblings, my grandmother said, which, of course, I think we know. To a degree, we know this. But what my grandmother reveals in here,’ Eddeth murmured, flicking through the pages, ‘is that some of the gods sought out dreamers to take their side. They endowed them with enhanced powers. Godlike powers!’

Alys swallowed, certain that whatever followed next would not be good. ‘How?’

‘With a spell. Magic. It can be done, you know!’ Eddeth tapped the page. ‘They turned dreamers into dark witches!’

‘Do you think she has these powers? Hakon Vettel’s dreamer?’

Eddeth nodded so urgently that her hair trembled like leaves on a tree. Placing the book on the floor, she hurried back to the cauldron, her stomach rumbling with urgency. ‘The danger grows, Alys!’ she called loudly. ‘I think we need to do more to protect ourselves. More symbols! More herbs! I have books and books of knowledge.’ She tapped her head. ‘All up in here! But what use is it if it stays there?’ And feeling an odd sense of clarity descend upon her, Eddeth grabbed a bowl, lumping a generous serving of stew into it, quickly grabbing a spoon. ‘We must act! Ottby’s walls cannot keep this dreamer out. She has shown us that! Just look at your neck!’

Alys watched Eddeth as she brought her bowl back to the stool and started shovelling the hot stew into her mouth, quickly burning her tongue. ‘I agree,’ she almost whispered, knowing that to do so would surely put Lotta in even more danger. ‘We must act now, before it’s too late.’

‌ 6‌

After finishing her stew, Eddeth left the fort on her old horse, heading for the forest. She had insisted upon being alone, needing to think. For all her enthusiasm, Eddeth did not do well in the company of others for long periods of time, and she had quickly become exhausted with having Alys nearby. So Alys had gone to find Agnette, who was pushing Stellan across the square in his wooden chair. It had been built by Sigurd, much to the relief of Gerda, who enjoyed getting him out from under her feet. Her husband’s constant presence, just staring at her from across the hall was unsettling. And upsetting. Memories she preferred to leave in the past often surfaced, and Gerda would need to escape the hall to try and put her mind to something else.

‘That looks hard!’ Alys called, watching Agnette struggle to reach the handle of the chair over her bump.

Agnette stood back, hands on hips, panting. ‘Didn’t used to be!’ she laughed, feeling a sharp kick in her belly. ‘Ooohhh.’

‘Are you alright? Agnette?’

Agnette nodded, trying to catch her breath. ‘Little wriggler has a foot on him, that’s for sure.’

Alys had a sudden image of a girl; blonde-haired and round-cheeked, just like her mother and father. ‘I’ll push,’ she offered, trying to gently nudge Agnette away from the chair, and nodding gratefully, Agnette fell in beside her.

The chair was heavy. Stellan Vilander was a big man, though not as big as he’d once been, she was sure. He appeared to be wasting away, stuck in his chair, day after day, but still, it was a heavy weight to push across the

slushy ground. The snow had started to melt, the sun warming the fort, the frozen ground turning muddy.

‘Something’s happened,’ Agnette said, edging closer to Alys. ‘You look like something’s happened.’

Alys aimed the chair at the inner gates where she could see Sigurd talking to Bjarni. ‘I… had a dream about my daughter. Lotta.’ Tears came quickly, and Alys tried to blink them away.

‘Is she alright?’

‘I don’t know,’ Alys admitted. ‘I fear Hakon Vettel’s dreamer has her.’ ‘What? Oh, Alys!’

‘I think she’ll try to use her against me. To stop me helping Reinar.’

That wasn’t what Agnette wanted to hear at all. She saw Reinar emerge from one of the guard towers by the gate, walking over to join Bjarni and Sigurd. ‘But if you don’t help him? If you can’t stop her?’

‘If I can’t stop her, none of us will live.’ ‘Can Eddeth help you?’

‘I don’t know. Sometimes I think so. Other times I don’t know if she understands what’s happening.’ She saw the fear deepen in Agnette’s eyes as she gripped her belly, reminded of how vulnerable it felt to carry a child inside you. ‘But don’t worry, I’ll do whatever I can.’

Agnette nodded distractedly as Reinar, Bjarni, and Sigurd approached.

All three of them smiled at Stellan, Reinar patting his head. ‘Come to check the ramparts, have you?’ he said to his father. ‘Making sure we’ve got ourselves prepared for the Vettel spawn?’ He thought he saw Stellan twitch. ‘Not sure we can carry you up there, though.’ And he pointed to the stone ramparts where he could see Amir training the Ullaberg archers.

‘We could try,’ Sigurd grinned. ‘Give him a spear! You’d just need a little help, Father. I’m sure you could launch one at Hakon Vettel.’

Bjarni nodded. ‘Don’t think anyone’s beaten your record off the low wall yet, Stellan.’

They were all worried.

Alys heard it in their voices. She saw it in their eyes, and she felt an urge to get back to her cottage to see what she could do to help. She had to save her daughter and find her son, but neither would be possible if she couldn’t save the fort first.

Hakon was becoming increasingly frustrated with Ivan.

Suddenly everything his cousin did irritated him. He’d left their camp with Lief and Ulrick for company, furious that Ivan hadn’t even emerged from his tent. But after fumbling and rushing to pack and gather his things, Ivan had made his way up the line, pushing his horse in between Hakon and Lief, sheepish grin on his sleepy-looking face.

Hakon had barely spoken to him, though.

Ivan could almost see the triumphant smirk in Lief’s ruined eyes, as blank as they may have appeared to anyone else. That bastard wanted to get rid of him. He knew that for certain now. But how? By pushing him out? Making him lose Hakon’s trust?

Or by killing him?

Ivan grinned, turning to Hakon. ‘You remember when we last headed this way, Cousin? With your father? Everything looks smaller somehow. Less interesting. Certainly less threatening.’

Hakon muttered nothing Ivan could understand, turning instead to Ulrick. ‘What did you want with that girl?’ he wondered. ‘Why did you really keep her?’

Ulrick had been daydreaming about the softness of his wife’s ample tits, the familiar smell of their kitchen as she bent over the cauldron, round arse in the air. He blinked, sniffing. ‘We lost our only child. A daughter. Years ago now. Bergit could never fall pregnant after that. But a dreamer once told her that she’d have another daughter, so I thought I’d rescue that one. Give her a proper home.’

Hakon smiled. ‘Well, hopefully, you’ll be able to take the girl back to her.’

Ulrick froze, hands tightening around the reins. ‘Hopefully?’ He glanced back at the wobbling wagon.

‘Well, Mother seems attached to her, wouldn’t you say?’

Ulrick had noticed the old woman’s interest in the girl, of course. She had not let him near her. At first, he thought she wanted to care for her, like a woman would. But there was nothing maternal about the dreamer. And Ulrick had seen something else in Mother’s eyes that disturbed him.

Hakon obviously had too.

‘That would be… disappointing,’ Ulrick said haltingly, his displeasure souring his face. ‘Bergit would surely prefer I return with a child than coins.’

Hakon shrugged, brushing off Ulrick’s irritation. ‘But with a chest full of coins you can buy another girl, and get Bergit a son too!’ He met Ivan’s eyes and frowned, looking past him to Lief. ‘And what about you, Lief? Where are your sons? You must be growing impatient?’

Ivan turned to Lief, watching his discomfort grow. Happy to see it.

Lief didn’t like the attention. ‘Hopefully, we’ll have some news soon, my lord,’ he muttered. ‘My wife is looking forward to making a new home in Stornas. It will reassure her to be settled. I’m sure it will help move things along in the right direction.’ He stared at Ivan, realising that Ivan was the odd one out: no wife; no children to speak of; no understanding of how the rest of them truly felt at all. And despite his own discomfort at discussing such personal matters, he almost smiled.

‘I’m glad to hear it!’ Hakon called, enjoying the sight of the treeline in the distance, beckoning them forward. The sun was glaring as it rose in the sky, sending its bright rays into his eyes, and he was keen for some shade. ‘Once we get our wives settled in Stornas, we can start making plans. For all our families!’

Hakon eyed Ivan, happy to watch him squirm.

He knew his anger would fade, his disappointment too. But Ivan needed to realise the privilege of his position. And with them only one day out from Ottby now, Ivan’s position was quickly becoming more important than ever.

Reinar left Bjarni to finish pushing Stellan around the square while he walked Alys back to her cottage. ‘You look ill,’ he said, opening the door and ushering her inside. ‘Have you seen something? Something about what happened to your neck?’

Alys shook her head. ‘I haven’t, but Eddeth has some ideas in her book. She thinks the dreamer has help from the gods. That they have given her power. Enhanced her gifts.’

Reinar sat down on a stool with a thump. ‘Do you believe her?’

Alys wasn’t sure. ‘I don’t think it matters either way. I couldn’t breathe. Something or someone was choking me. I thought… I thought I would die. So, whatever Eddeth thinks doesn’t matter as much as what we do to try and stop the dreamer.’

‘Walls won’t stop her.’

‘No,’ Alys agreed, opening the tinderbox, eager to warm up the cottage. ‘But maybe symbols and herbs can?’ Reinar looked so doubtful that she felt foolish.

‘Symbols and herbs?’

Alys saw an image of Lotta in her mind, and she blinked it away. ‘It’s all we have. I can try and dream, and I will, but a dream is not a weapon.’ She could hear that old woman’s cackling voice, so triumphant now that she had her daughter. ‘I’ll go and find Eddeth again. She must have returned from the forest by now.’

Reinar nodded. ‘I have to focus on keeping Hakon’s warriors out of the fort, Alys. I can’t worry about his dreamer. I can’t do anything to stop her.’

‘No, I know. I’ll do what I can, I promise.’ ‘Your neck looks painful.’

‘It’s not.’ Alys turned her eyes down to the tinderbox, not wanting to see his concern. Not wanting to encourage him at all.

Reinar could sense it, and he stood. ‘Can I get you anything else?

Anything you need?’

Alys tried to think as she scanned the cottage. ‘I’ll need more wood. A lot more wood. I… wouldn’t mind some weapons.’

Reinar blinked. ‘Weapons?’

‘Yes, I must be able to protect myself if I feel something coming for me.’

‘But can you? Perhaps you need a warrior with you? Someone outside, guarding the cottage?’

Alys shook her head. ‘No, but knives would be useful. An axe. Some arrows.’

Reinar laughed. ‘Sounds like I should send you to Tulia after all. Perhaps you’d be some use on the wall?’ He was joking, though Alys didn’t smile. ‘I’ll get Ludo to bring you everything you need, don’t worry.’

‘Thank you.’

Reinar stared at her, knowing he had to leave. He had questions, although most of them would be pointless if they didn’t get through the next few days. ‘I am grateful to you,’ he said quietly. ‘And whatever happens, I’m sorry.’

‘Sorry?’

‘That you’re here. Sorry and glad. I…’ He was quickly awkward, dropping his head. ‘I should have made different choices.’ And lifting his eyes, Reinar stared at her. ‘But, I suppose, if I had, you wouldn’t be here, and I’m glad you are.’

Alys felt odd. Her hands, which had been fiddling with the tinderbox, suddenly froze. She looked away, eyes on Winter, who appeared to be watching both of them.

She didn’t know what to say. Reinar didn’t either. And so he headed to the door.

‘I hope I can help,’ Alys said, not wanting him to leave, as much as she was eager to be alone. ‘I’m here for a reason, I know that now. I only hope I can make a difference.’

‘So do I.’ Reinar pushed open the door, taking a deep breath as the noise from the square suddenly filled the cottage, his shoulders tensing. And taking one last look at Alys, he disappeared outside.

Tulia had her women on the inner wall with Amir’s, making sure they knew their places. They certainly knew the calls now, and they could work in unison, listening to her commands. She felt oddly protective of them as they stood there, worried eyes seeking the invisible enemy in the distance. Some of them would die. Die to save the men who had stolen them away from their homes and families.

She sighed, looking at Ilene, who was the only one with a smile on her face.

Amir didn’t want her on the wall – he’d said as much, more than once – though Tulia couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather stick in the way of Hakon Vettel’s arrows.

Except Torvig of course.

‘When will they come?’ Ilene wanted to know, hand on hip. Tulia blinked irritably. ‘Tomorrow? The day after? I don’t know.’ ‘I thought the dreamer would have told you?’

Tulia ignored her, turning to the other women. ‘You can see clearly from here. And if the sky stays like that, you’ll see the arrows coming. Hear them too. This cover here,’ she said, pointing to the tall, thick part of the

rampart wall, ‘that’s where you’ll hide. The arrows will come in waves. We’ll wait here for one to pass, then move into the gap again.’ Tulia usually struggled to be gentle, sympathetic, or particularly understanding, but she felt a responsibility to these women, and she spoke slowly, wanting them to understand her. Sigurd always made fun of her accent, and Tulia knew that sometimes it was hard to get her words out, but she needed the women to hear her. ‘The fire arrows won’t be for you. It’s too much to think about. The flame is a distraction you don’t need. We’ll leave those for me.’

Hulda nodded. Estrid too. They wanted to live. She could see it in their eyes.

They listened intently.

‘Any questions?’ Tulia scanned the group, willing Ilene to keep her mouth shut.

‘What if we run out of arrows?’ Estrid asked.

‘Then head for the stairs. Get down into the square, find more. Most of their arrows won’t hit a target. You’ll be able to collect an armful and hurry back up to the wall.’

Estrid nodded, and Ilene looked as though she was about to open her mouth when Tulia spun away from her, heading for the stairs. The sun was already high in the sky, but the air was crisp and cold, and she was eager to get to the hall.

Away from Ilene.

Torvig was peering at the map. ‘You shouldn’t put the women on the inner wall.’

‘Well I’m not going to put them on the low wall,’ Reinar frowned. ‘I can’t afford to lose all my archers too early.’

Torvig snorted. ‘They’re hardly archers, Reinar! Most of them have barely held a bow. I know you need all hands on the walls, but you can’t expect much from those slave women. I doubt they’ll live longer than the first assault. What a waste that will be.’

Sigurd didn’t want to agree with Torvig, but he worried that he was right. ‘Well, whether that’s true or not, they’re best deployed on the inner wall. It’s safer. Those on the low wall need sword skills. Once the archers

are overwhelmed, once their siege towers reach the walls and their men start to climb, we’ll need a physical presence to knock them back.’

Reinar agreed. ‘They’ll stay where Tulia’s placed them.’ He leaned over the map, moving the wooden archer figures to the inner wall. One for Tulia’s group, one for Amir’s. ‘You’ll have your men down on the low wall, Torvig.’

Torvig looked happy about that.

‘I’ll be with you,’ Reinar went on. ‘Sigurd will be up with Tulia and Amir. Ludo, you’ll run the square, and Bjarni…’ He turned to his oldest friend. ‘I want you here. In the hall.’

‘What?’ Bjarni looked shocked. ‘The hall?’

Reinar nodded. ‘Think it through. They’ll be bringing catapults. They’ll launch boulders if we can’t burn them first. They might crush the hall. I need you to watch everyone in here, especially Agnette and Father. Gerda too. You may have to move them in a hurry to save lives. I’ll send Eddeth in with her salves and bandages. Rienne can help her.’

Agnette smiled, pleased to hear that Reinar was making Bjarni stay close. Terror rose and fell inside her body, and she felt close to tears most of the time. She feared what would come. Feared that she would never get to meet her child, or that Bjarni wouldn’t.

He squeezed her hand, and she turned to him, swallowing.

‘And where will Alys be?’ Sigurd asked, eyes up as Tulia opened the doors, ushering in a blast of cold air.

‘In her cottage,’ Reinar said, his voice almost a whisper, wondering if that was the right thing to do. ‘By herself.’ He was quickly convinced that it was definitely the wrong thing to do.

‘She should be in here with us,’ Agnette insisted.

‘Who?’ Tulia wondered, taking a cup of ale from Sigurd with a weary grin.

‘Alys. She should be in the hall.’

Tulia was quickly frowning. ‘Wouldn’t she be better off dreaming somewhere? By herself?’

‘Perhaps,’ Reinar said. ‘Though I’d rather she had help. If Hakon’s dreamer tries something… if she tries to get into the fort, she’ll need some help.’ He ran a hand over his beard, thinking. ‘Eddeth could stay with Alys.’

Agnette nodded. ‘Of course Eddeth should stay with Alys! After what happened to her neck?’ She shuddered, gripping Bjarni’s hand. ‘What’s to stop the dreamer from doing that to any of us?’ She frowned at Tulia. ‘We need more than archers for this fight, wouldn’t you say? Hakon Vettel’s surely going to throw more than arrows at us.’

Eddeth bustled into Alys’ cottage without knocking. Once the door was open, she wedged it with a stool, and, without speaking, headed back outside to bring in her baskets. There were three of them, each one heaving with herbs and other items in corked and wrapped jars that Alys couldn’t identify.

The smell was overpowering.

Alys helped her. There were bowls too. A cauldron filled with stew.

And a pillow and fur.

‘I shall stay with you!’ Eddeth declared with a lop-sided grin. ‘Reinar thinks he ordered it to be, though little did he know it was my intention all along! For where else would I rather be as the battle rages on than by your side?’

Alys felt grateful for the company. ‘You can sleep in the bed.’

‘Bah! I often sleep on the floor,’ Eddeth insisted. ‘Comfort makes me itch. I prefer to stay in a permanent state of unease. Keeps the mind alert!’ She tapped her head, hurrying back outside. ‘Though I must get Rigfuss. He hates to be alone!’ And she disappeared into the darkness, hoping she wouldn’t find the cat wedged under her bed again.

Alys’ eyes moved to her own cat, quickly surprised she saw Winter that way. Arnon had hated animals with a passion. Magnus had adopted a stray puppy once. A secret puppy. She hadn’t known about it until she found it inside one day, eating from Magnus’ plate. He loved the puppy so much that she didn’t want to break his heart and get rid of it immediately. But Arnon had found it first. He had heard it wailing in the night, lonely and cold in the shed.

He’d wrung its neck to shut it up.

Alys closed her eyes, wanting an escape from the cruel memories. With Arnon, everything had been cruel. Out of her control.

Yet, she was a dreamer, and according to Eddeth, dreamers could be powerful creatures indeed. Those favoured by benevolent gods and goddesses, at least.

Opening her eyes, Alys wondered what it would feel like to be powerful. She glanced down at the book, eager to find an answer, a way to keep Hakon Vettel’s dreamer out of the fort.

Out of her dreams too.

Falla had been pregnant for weeks according to Mother. And now that the reality of it was sinking in, she could feel it herself: those slight changes in her body; the waves of nausea she had put down to travelling in the wagon; the overwhelming tiredness and her aching back. So she was not thrilled to be dragged off as the army made camp for the night, into the forest with Mother, who had shoved a basket at her, insisting she stay close.

They had left Lotta behind with Ulrick, who was happy to be with her again. He pulled Lotta to him, looking her over, seeing if the old dreamer had hurt her in any way. ‘Has she fed you? Given you water?’

Lotta didn’t want to talk to him any more than she wanted to talk to Mother. She nodded, eyes returning to the fire they sat before. Ulrick crouched beside her, making a spit out of twigs. He’d caught two rabbits, killed and skinned them, eager to feed Lotta a good meal. She appeared ill in the glow of the flames.

Listless.

‘We’re not in Slussfall,’ he said, almost apologetically. ‘But once we’re done with this battle we’ll head North again, get you settled in the cottage, in your very own chamber. Wait till you see it. It’s got a bed piled high with pillows. Bergit made them herself. Blankets too. She’s an expert weaver, you know. A skilled woman indeed.’

Lotta showed no interest in anything he was saying. She only wanted to hear talk of returning to Ullaberg so she could find her mother and brother. She didn’t want to go with Ulrick to his wife. Tears filled her eyes, and she couldn’t see. Everything blurred around her, including Ulrick’s voice. She heard the fires popping, men yelling to each other as they erected tents and shelter. Horses whinnied behind her, goats bleating too. The smell of

cooking awakened some small part of Lotta that was actually hungry, and she was right back in her cottage, sitting at the table.

‘Don’t eat so fast!’ she heard her mother’s warning. ‘Lotta! You’ll burn your tongue!’

Lotta smiled, welcoming that familiar voice, trying to remember their table, her chair, the sound of the waves from the beach, Magnus chattering incessantly beside her.

‘Lotta, please, just hold on. I’m coming.’ Lotta spun around, shivering.

It was her mother’s voice, she was certain. ‘I’m coming for you, my darling, just hold on.’

And clasping her cold hands together, Lotta bent her head forward, watching her tears splash over them.

‌ 7‌

Dreaming was impossible with Eddeth snoring on the ground beside her.

Rigfuss snored too.

Alys rolled over to the wall, realising that she could no longer smell death in the cottage. Now it smelled of herbs and smoke and Eddeth.

The fragrant aromas reminded her of her mother, which was odd, she thought. Her mother had died when she was six; her father long before that. Alys closed her eyes tight, wanting to remember what it had felt like to have a mother’s love; caring arms, a soothing voice in her ear. That

unspoken certainty that she was protected. Loved.

Eddeth cried out suddenly, rolling over, muttering to herself, and Alys was wide awake again.

Agnette stared up at Bjarni, who was leaning over her, smoothing hair away from her face. No matter how many combs he bought or made for his wife, how many scarves, or leather thongs, her hair was always a wild mess.

He smiled.

‘You look scared,’ Agnette said.

‘What?’ Bjarni frowned at her. ‘I’m smiling, aren’t I?’

Their chamber was bright with glowing lamps. Agnette didn’t like to sleep in the dark, and Bjarni liked her to be happy, so he always made sure there were more candles and lamps in their chamber than Gerda ever realised.

‘Your mouth may be, but your eyes are popping out of your head, Bjarni Sansgard. I know that look. You’re worried. Scared. Fearful.’

‘Alright, alright, I get the point.’ And leaving Agnette’s hair alone, Bjarni flopped back down beside her. Their bed was small, and since Agnette had almost doubled in size, there was barely any room to roll over. He sighed. ‘Things will get tricky soon. Very soon. It’s hard not to worry about you and the baby.’ He gently touched her belly, leaving his hand there, wanting to feel those elusive kicks, which, so far, only his wife had experienced.

‘Nothing much we can do but ride towards the storm.’ Bjarni turned to her. ‘That sounds familiar.’

‘It’s what my grandfather used to say. He survived many a storm, and he always used to tell us that when you’re in a ship, and you see that sky turning black, clouds coming towards you at pace, waves rising like mountains… all you can do is ride towards the storm.’ Agnette felt terror herself, but she didn’t want Bjarni worrying about her. She was perfectly capable of doing that all on her own.

Bjarni sighed, feeling his body loosen ever so slightly. ‘Well, sounds about right. We can’t pick up the fort and run away.’

Agnette laughed. ‘No, so we hold our heads high and face what’s coming. The threads of our destiny have already been woven. We can’t turn around and hurry to unpick them all, hoping to weave something else!’

‘Do you believe that?’ Bjarni moved his hand down towards hers, squeezing it, feeling it tremble. ‘That the gods have already made up their minds about us?’

‘Oh, yes. Our child too,’ Agnette said. ‘The gods know all about him.’ Bjarni closed his eyes, tired now, wishing he knew what the gods did.

Wishing he was a dreamer. Though, perhaps not, he decided, for that was a heavy weight to bear. Holding everyone’s destiny in your mind. Uncertain who to save and who to let die…

Agnette could feel Bjarni’s hand twitching, and she smiled. Despite any worries he might be chewing over, he could still fall asleep as soon as his eyes closed.

And there it was… the first gentle snore.

She swallowed, uncomfortable in the bed, wanting to move, her mind alert, her eyes wide open. And slipping her hand out of Bjarni’s, she placed it on her belly.

Staring into the darkness.

Jonas was pissing behind a tree when he heard Magnus scream out. Jiggling on the spot, he yanked up his trousers, jumping over a log, hurrying back to their campsite, into the tent.

But Vik was already there, Magnus in his arms.

‘Think he’s still asleep,’ Vik mumbled, easing Magnus down onto the grass, lying his bed fur over him. And content that the boy was settled again, he followed Jonas out of the tent.

Puffing out a smoky breath, Jonas collapsed beside the fire, hands out, rubbing them together. He had no idea how late it was, but neither man felt tired. They were on edge, knowing they had some way to go to Slussfall; both of them worrying that they would miss Lotta somehow.

It was unsettling to know how much they needed her captors to stay alive.

Yet, what would those men do to her in the meantime?

Vik threw a branch onto the fire. The flames sparked and spat at them, but they were both grateful for the warmth. It had snowed off and on during the day, but nothing too heavy now, and they hoped that would continue. ‘I’ve been thinking we should head west.’

‘You do?’

Vik nodded. ‘Those men sound like old hands. The way Magnus described them?’ Vik could almost picture them. ‘They talked of Hakon Vettel and Slussfall, as though they knew him. Maybe they travelled the other road?’

‘They talked of Stornas too, that’s what Magnus said. Stornas, Ottby, Slussfall.’ Jonas’ mind was whirring.

‘The Vettel boy’s been stirring since Stellan Vilander tore off his father’s head. Both him and that fool cousin of his. That’s what I hear.’

‘To kill the Vilanders?’

Vik shrugged. ‘Likely more, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Ake should have ended the Vettel boys all those years ago.’

‘Well, they were children,’ Jonas said. ‘He couldn’t bring himself to do it. Could you?’

‘I could. You could too, Jonas. We did worse, I’m sure, in our time. The Vettel line needed to be burned like a wound. Cauterised. Ended. Just a scar on the landscape, forgotten over time.’

‘Hakon Vettel took Slussfall with speed from what I hear. Killed hundreds. Women and children. Everyone. His cousin right by his side.’ Jonas had been to Slussfall many times over the years. Sirrus Ahlmann had been a loyal ally to Ake, but he hadn’t been able to stand in the face of the Vettels, and their swelling army bent on revenge.

‘Tells you something about the boy and what Ottby will face, then. Though, he shouldn’t be too confident going up against those walls.’ Vik smiled, remembering Ottby. Stellan Vilander had been part of their brotherhood. One of Ake’s best men. He had commanded a double-walled fortress of stone, and that fortress had held back every assault from the Vettels over the years. It hadn’t just been the Vettels who sought to take Ake’s throne either. The King of Alekka had been embattled by his Northern enemies since wrenching Stornas from Jorek Vettel’s bloodthirsty grasp. Those north of The Rift were mostly a rag-tag bunch of warring tribes, though, never rising above their own rivalries long enough to mount a sustained campaign.

‘Not just Ottby’s walls either. With Hovring and Vika to support them, Hakon Vettel doesn’t stand a chance. He can’t go around them, he can’t go through them, and he won’t get over them.’ It was nice to talk about those things they’d left in the past now. It made them feel young for a moment.

‘I hope you’re right,’ Vik murmured, yawning, eyes back on the tent. ‘Though, they’ll struggle without Stellan leading the line. His boys are useful enough, I know. Both of them. Good men too. But they’re not their father, are they?’

Jonas tucked his cloak around himself, catching Vik’s yawn. ‘No, they’re not, but Stellan raised them well. They’d do anything not to let him down.’

Tulia lay naked in his arms and Sigurd was reluctant to move, though she had all the furs and he was freezing. The fire had gone out, but the lamps burned low, and as he smoothed hair away from her cheek, he could see the

bronzed glow of her skin. The serenity of her face when she was sleeping was a constant surprise. She looked content and peaceful.

She never looked that way when she was awake.

He tried nudging her gently, hoping to encourage her to roll over on her own, but Tulia merely sighed and moved towards him. Sigurd smiled, giving up, deciding that he’d rather freeze than lose the feeling of her body resting on his.

He felt guilty for bringing her to Ottby. She hated it. The cold, the bleak skies, the stone fortress. She came from a place where the horizon was expansive, the land covered in sand. And sun. Golden, warm sun, beating down overhead like a fire. The nights were cold, but the days were bright, the sky so blue you wanted to swim in it.

Sigurd missed it himself, and though he often thought he’d reached a decision to leave Ottby for good, he could never make the final break. The fort was more than his home; just like Reinar, it was his reason for being. They had been raised to believe that Ottby and its walls mattered. That they mattered to the safety and survival of Alekka.

Sigurd had been saved by Stellan from a certain death. Given a home and a family that he loved with all his heart.

He held onto Tulia tighter, feeling sad, knowing that whatever happened, he couldn’t abandon Reinar and Ottby.

Not now.

Sleep would have been useful, Reinar thought as he stood before Valera’s Tree, leaves rustling loudly overhead. That sound had given him nightmares as a child; lying in bed, listening to the wind racing through the branches, scratching them together; imagining shadow spirits creeping through the fort, into the hall, waiting outside his door.

During the day, the tree was a place to hide and explore, a place to seek guidance and ask questions. Some believed that Valera herself came to the ancient tree to help those in need. She was both the Goddess of Fertility and the Goddess of Love. Her favour and wisdom were always in great demand, even by the Lord of Ottby himself.

Reinar held a hand to the trunk, placing it flat against the rough bark, wanting to feel some sense of certainty, some clarity about what lay ahead, though he felt nothing but the cold wind trying to tear his cloak off him.

He froze, hand quickly off the tree, moving to his sword, head spinning. The leaves rustled loudly, covering any noise, but Reinar was sure he’d heard something.

And then a shadow moving.

Stepping around the tree, Reinar cut it off. Torvig felt his heart lurch up into his mouth.

Reinar had seen Torvig heading for his cottage hours ago, yet here he was, fully dressed. ‘What are you doing?’

Torvig peered down at Reinar’s hand, still on the hilt of his sword. ‘You looking to start the battle now?’ he grinned, trying to steady his breathing. He had dragged Stina back to her cottage after he’d finished with her. And he was glad he had, or else he might be having a very different conversation with Reinar now.

Reinar moved his hand away, letting his cloak fall over his sword. ‘Not quite, but it pays to be careful after what’s been happening lately.’

Torvig nodded. ‘It does, though I think being lord of this fortress, you could find someone else to keep watch. Or is this what you do every night, and I just didn’t know it?’

Reinar shook his head. ‘Not every night, no. But without Elin here, there’s less reason to stay in bed, I suppose.’

Torvig stared at him. ‘She’ll be back. I know it. I feel it.’ ‘You do?’

‘Of course.’ Torvig’s confidence lifted, and he encouraged Reinar back to the hall. ‘She loved you the moment she saw you. Couldn’t stop telling our mother about how she was going to marry you one day. I remember that.’

Reinar liked to hear stories about Elin. He remained silent, encouraging Torvig to continue, which he did, knowing that the more he filled the silence, the less opportunity there was for Reinar to ask where he’d been.

‘Something happened to her after the loss of the babies. You know that. It wasn’t because of you. She didn’t stop loving you. It was Elin. The heartbreak caused something to go wrong with her head. She made a bad decision. I imagine she knows that better than anyone now.’

‘After this is all over, after Hakon comes, and we beat him back, I’d like to try and find her. See if you’re right.’

‘Good! We can go together. It may be that I can find her. Or that dreamer of yours can. Not that Elin would be happy to find her here, trying to take you away from her.’ Torvig sensed that Reinar had stopped, and he turned back to him with a grin. ‘Perhaps I’m imagining that, of course. Seems to me the woman’s looking for a way to make herself a new home. A new place. That Ullaberg was nothing, was it? Imagine coming here, finding a handsome lord who’s lost his wife? Imagine the things she’s been planning for herself…’

Reinar knew what everyone thought of Torvig. He’d thought the same things himself, many times. But he’d always been loyal over the years, often against his better judgement, knowing that he was Elin’s brother; aware of how much she adored him. ‘No need for you to worry about the dreamer, Torvig. She’s useful to me, just as Salma was. Nothing more. She has a home here for as long as she wants it. For as long as I find value in her dreams. And come tomorrow, or the day after, we might both find out how valuable she can be.’ And turning abruptly towards the hall doors, Reinar left Torvig alone in the dark.

‘Best sleep I’ve had in years!’ Eddeth declared with a sneeze.

She sneezed a lot, Alys thought, watching with one eye as Eddeth bustled around the cottage. She was still half asleep, barely seeing any sign of light yet. And closing her one open eye, she lay her head back on the pillow, enjoying the low murmuring sounds Eddeth was making. As long as they remained low and murmuring, she might just be able to fall back to sleep.

‘What did you dream of, then?’ Eddeth wondered, peering down at Alys.

Alys opened her eyes again, jerking away from Eddeth, who had leaned so far over her that their noses were almost touching.

‘You have skin like the underbelly of my cat,’ Eddeth breathed. ‘So soft!’ And she ran a hand over Alys’ cheek before turning back to the fire.

‘My mother said I had skin like an old man’s ballsack from the day I was born. No matter what she rubbed on it, it always felt the same!’

Alys pushed herself upright, shivering. Eddeth appeared to be doing half of everything as she moved around the cottage. The tinderbox was open, the kindling stacked in the fire pit. But she had rushed over to the kitchen area, fussing around her rows of jars, fingering through the baskets of herbs. Then there were the two cats, who had been promised a jug of near-frozen milk, two bowls sitting on the ground, side by side, but Eddeth had forgotten to fill them.

She spun around, eyeing Alys. ‘Did you have any dreams, then?’ Alys swung her legs over the side of the bed, unsure.

And then everything rushed back to her like a crashing wave. ‘Yes,’ she breathed, heart thumping in her chest. ‘Yes, I did!’

Mother had been up before anyone, slipping into Hakon’s tent, urging him to get his men moving before dawn had even broken. She had dreamed of his success. Of a great battle that would burn and break the Vilanders’ fortress for good.

He needed to march. Now!

Hakon liked his sleep almost as much as Ivan, but he had rushed out of bed and into his armour with speed, emerging from his tent, yawning steward trailing after him, surprised to find Ivan waiting there, fully dressed.

‘Are you ready to leave?’

Hakon shook his head, beaming. ‘Cousin! I knew you wouldn’t let me down. I knew it!’ And taking Ivan in his arms, he patted his armoured back. ‘We’re in this together, you and I. For my father. For our family. We will do this together!’

Ivan was nodding, but he wasn’t thinking about their family. He was thinking about his reputation, which he would burnish with this victory. About his image, carved into tall saga stones from the North to the South, throughout Alekka and beyond. ‘Of course we will, Hakon. We’ve gotten

this far together, haven’t we? We’ll crush those Vilanders together too, I promise. Leave their heads draining from their famous walls!’

It was the perfect start to the day. And as the sun rose, Hakon’s optimism rose with it. There wasn’t even a hint of a cloud in the sky. No snow in the air.

Nothing standing in their way.

Mother waddled past on her way to the wagon, Falla and the little girl following after her like miserable ducklings. Lief walked beside Falla, kissing her goodbye. Ulrick stood to one side, watching the old woman, wondering what sort of a problem she was going to become.

‘You should be on your horses!’ Mother bellowed. ‘All of you! We must make haste. Now!’

Hakon wondered what the hurry was, but he wasn’t about to argue with Mother.

If she saw victory on the horizon, he wasn’t going to argue at all.

Eddeth plonked herself down on the bed, nose twitching. ‘What? What did you see?’

Alys wasn’t sure. It was no simple image but a mess of many. ‘I saw fire. I heard screams. Bodies. A lot of bodies. Panic.’

‘Here?’

Alys nodded. ‘It was as though the sky itself was in flames.’ ‘As though the gods were at war!’

‘Well, more likely catapults and arrows, I imagine,’ Alys said gently.

But Eddeth was already taking Alys’ words and weaving them into a more elaborate tale. ‘And death?’

‘Yes, death. But I…’ Alys closed her eyes, trying to see anything else. Tulia. She saw Tulia.

‘Yes?’

Alys shook her head, feeling a cold certainty grip her body. ‘They will be here today.’ And standing up quickly, she stared down at Eddeth, blinking. ‘They will be here today!’

‌ 8‌

Jonas and Vik turned inland.

Magnus kept riding in between them on Daisy, not really conscious of anything until he realised that they were starting to climb. He felt Daisy straining beneath him, her stubby legs working hard. The landscape was becoming more mountainous again. There were fewer trees to see now, the forests falling away beneath them. ‘When will we get to Slussfall?’ He could see the sun rising above the sweeping mountains in the distance, and squinting, he turned to his great-grandfather, impatience in his eyes.

‘Well, days is unfortunately the closest answer, Magnus. I’m not sure. We may not be aiming for Slussfall at all. It depends on where we come across them. Those men who took Lotta were ill. We may be able to catch them before they get anywhere near that fortress.’ Jonas leaned forward, patting his new horse, still surprised that it was not his old horse. His grief for Klippr continued to burn like a hot flame.

Magnus nodded, but he felt concerned.

Vik pushed ahead as the path narrowed, trees shrinking in on either side of them, making a frosty tunnel.

‘What is it?’ Jonas wondered. ‘Something’s gnawing away at you over there.’

Magnus didn’t know his great-grandfather as well as he wished. He felt safe with him, happy to be with him, but worried about him. ‘The men who took us… they are… younger than you.’

Jonas burst out laughing, surprising Vik, who turned around, eyebrows raised.

‘My grandson, here, is worried that we’re too old for the job! That these men will tear us to pieces!’

Magnus’ pink cheeks flushed a deep red. ‘Well, I…’ He heard Vik laughing too.

‘Perhaps your mother never told you about me? About my friend, Vik?

About who we used to be?’ ‘She did.’

Jonas was surprised, his face blank. ‘Oh. So you know we’re warriors with reputations around these parts? We’re two of Ake Bluefinn’s men, the both of us. We stood beside him against the Vettels for years. Crushed those bastards with our own swords. Gave our blood to save our country from tyranny. And yet you don’t think we can handle two poorly thieves?’

‘Leave the boy alone, Jonas!’ Vik called out, turning back around. ‘All he can see are a couple of greybeards, creaking and farting around. Who could blame him for thinking our reputations are all we’ve got left, dust- covered as they are!’

Jonas smiled at Magnus. ‘He’s right, I suppose.’ It was hard to admit, because he didn’t feel old in his mind, and he never wanted to believe that a day would come when he couldn’t be effective with a sword. Though he thought back to Akaby, and how relieved he’d felt when Vik had shown up.

The path widened, and Vik slipped back to join them. He was a man of fewer than few words, but he spoke when he felt there was something to say. ‘Your grandfather and I will kill these men, Magnus. For what they did, taking you and selling you like that. For taking your sister away. We’ll kill them both. Quickly too. You needn’t worry about that.’

Magnus nodded, hearing the certainty in Vik’s voice. And he turned to Jonas, who smiled at him.

‘And then we’ll go and find your mother!’

Reinar felt impatient, but he didn’t want Alys to reveal her dreams in the hall. His mother was flapping about like an angry goose, and he wanted to avoid sending her off again. So he took Alys to his chamber, Torvig’s voice still ringing in his ears.

He motioned for her to take a seat by the blazing fire, not wanting to sit himself. ‘What have you seen?’

‘They will be here today.’

Reinar felt both surprised and relieved. ‘No snow holding them up, then?’

‘No. They are marching quickly now. I see no snow. Maybe just frost.’ Reinar blinked, irritated, wondering again if the gods favoured him at

all.

When Alys had woken, her dreams lingered just out of reach. She had

barely been aware that she’d had any. But then she had seen the flashes of fire, heard the terrifying noises, seen visions of Tulia’s pained face.

She’d seen everything.

Including Lotta, trapped with that old dreamer.

Gripping the arms of the chair, Alys tried to focus, sensing Reinar’s tension. ‘They have many men. Thousands, I would guess. Their rows stretched back as far as I could see. Speartips and banners, the red ones with the boar on it, just like on those ships. Their horses were armoured. The men riding them were heavily armoured too.’ She took a quick breath, closing her eyes, wanting to bring more images into her mind. Her eyes sprang open. ‘The dreamer is with them. She rides in a wagon…’ Alys stopped herself from going any further. ‘They have many catapults. I saw towers on wheels, pulled along by oxen. In my dream, the sun was shining, and they could see our walls.’

If he’d had the men, Reinar would have set upon Hakon before now; ended it before he’d ever caught a glimpse of his walls. But he didn’t. So he’d had to sit and wait and hear about his conquests along the Eastern Shore. He’d had to wait like an animal stuck in a trap.

He took a seat beside her. ‘What else?’

‘Fire. I saw a lot of fire across the sky. Inside the fort too.’ Reinar nodded. ‘We’re prepared for that, don’t worry.’ ‘People were dying.’

Reinar stared at Alys, wanting to ask who. But he didn’t. He had to do his best to protect everyone. ‘I think you should come into the hall. Eddeth too. It’s best if you’re all together. Agnette and my father. My mother, as well. Bjarni will be in charge, but he could use some help from you.’

‘I think you’re right. We’ll gather our things.’ Alys stood to leave, but Reinar grabbed her hand.

‘Take care of yourself first, though. I’ve seen you, Alys de Sant. You look like you want to disappear, not be noticed by anyone. That you don’t matter. I saw what your husband did to you too.’ He stood, looking down at her, lifting a hand to her face. ‘But you do matter. And you can help a lot of people today. You can save lives.’ Reinar pulled his hand away, his eyes remaining on hers. ‘Don’t forget that. Take care of yourself, and when the times comes, don’t be afraid to fight.’

Lotta had been moved onto the opposite seat of the wagon, next to Falla, though that meant she was forced to face Mother, who stared at her constantly, when she wasn’t chanting, eyes closed, swaying around.

Falla peered at Mother, who had slumped slightly to one side, elbow on the raven’s cage, mouth ajar, snoring. She sighed. Bored. Hungry. Cold. Ready for it all to be over. The thought of her husband returning to her victorious was appealing, though the thought of being inside a house with a bed, table and chairs, walls and soft furnishings was far more desirous.

She touched her belly, feeling annoyed. This was the wrong time and the wrong place to be with child. She glanced at the girl. ‘What do you see then, little dreamer? Is she right?’ Falla kept her voice low, leaning towards Lotta. ‘Is there a baby growing inside me?’ She knew Mother well enough to fear that her eyes would pop open at any moment.

Lotta was surprised by the question. ‘I don’t know.’ Falla sighed. ‘Well, what sort of dreamer are you, then?’

‘I don’t know if I’m a dreamer at all,’ Lotta admitted sadly. She wanted dreams of her mother and Magnus, but they didn’t come. She wanted to see a future where she was older, safe, with her family, back in Ullaberg again, but all she saw was Long Beard’s grinning face, and it frightened her.

‘Well, Mother thinks you are, and she would know. There aren’t many dreamers more powerful than Mother Arnesson.’

‘Is she your mother?’ Lotta wondered.

Falla tried not to laugh. ‘No, she was my husband’s mother. My second husband. I don’t know her real name, though she had so many children once that everyone started calling her Mother.’

Lotta’s eyes were wide with curiosity now. She liked to know things. ‘How many children did she have?’

‘Eleven, I believe,’ Falla whispered, almost enjoying talking to someone who wasn’t a sharp-tongued old witch. ‘Though by the time they got through childhood, there were only three boys left, and one of them was my husband.’

‘What happened to him?’

Falla was quiet for a moment. ‘He was killed.’ Her nostrils flared, and she felt the absence of her son again. ‘Murdered by a woman who will one day pay for it. That’s why we’re heading south. To see that she does.’

Lotta wasn’t sure what she thought. She didn’t mind Falla, who was pretty, though she had a mean look in her eyes sometimes. But she was preferable to any of her other captors, so Lotta sat back on the seat, closing her eyes, trying to find a dream.

‘On the gates?’ Ludo and Amir glanced at each other, confused. ‘You want us to paint this symbol on all of the gates?’

‘Of course all of the gates!’ Eddeth was getting cross, which was most unlike her. ‘Big. Make them big! Paint them in blood!’

Ludo peered at Alys, who nodded in support of Eddeth’s idea. ‘Alright, but you’ll have to come with us, Eddeth. We need to know we’re doing it right. I’ve never painted symbols before.’

Eddeth was instantly cheerful again. ‘Yes, yes, I would be delighted to! I’ll go and kill something. We’ll need a lot of blood. You’d best come with me, Alys. Bring that miserable friend of yours. She can help.’

Stina was standing near Ludo, arms crossed, too anxious to notice how cold she felt; how hungry and tired too. Alys touched her arm, and she jumped. ‘Sorry?’

‘Come with us,’ Alys smiled. ‘If you’d like? We need to go –’

‘We need a goose!’ Eddeth shouted over her. ‘We’ll kill it before the tree. Make a proper offering. It’s what we should do!’

Stina looked sick at the thought of it, but she nodded, traipsing after Alys, and Eddeth, who was already bounding ahead like a cat.

Ludo turned to Amir. ‘We’d better find some tools. Amir!’ But Amir was heading towards Ilene, who had come down from the ramparts, eager to catch a moment alone with him.

Tulia rolled her eyes as she strode towards Ludo. ‘You might try to keep an eye on him,’ she grumbled, heading for Sigurd. ‘And whatever you do, keep him away from those ramparts when Hakon’s men come! He’ll be too busy drooling over that girl to see anything coming!’ She reached Sigurd, her eyes searching his face. ‘What is it?’

‘Alys sees them coming today.’

‘Good.’ Tulia shut away any tremors of worry. They weren’t as prepared as she wanted them to be, but it was better to get on with things. There would be no ending without a beginning, and she was eager for it all to be over. ‘We’re ready on the walls. Well, ours, at least. With that idiot Torvig running things on the low wall, who knows what a mess he’s made.’

Sigurd grabbed her arm, trying to get her attention. ‘Reinar will be there. He’ll be in charge of that wall.’ The thought of that made him anxious. The low wall had been Stellan’s. He had always kept his sons behind him on the inner wall, knowing it was the safer place to be.

‘Hmmm.’ Tulia wanted to go. She needed to find her helmet.

‘Now’s not the time to grumble about Torvig. This might be our last day. We shouldn’t waste time on him.’

Tulia couldn’t agree more. ‘Well, how about we go into the ring, then? I’ll beat you with my sword until you beg for mercy. Or we could go back to the chamber? Get naked?’

Sigurd laughed, kissing her. ‘You look too happy about this possibly being our last day together. Maybe you’re thinking you’ll slip away while all the fighting’s going on? Run down to the ships?’

‘Might do. Depends how things are going.’ Tulia smiled, pushing him away, quickly frowning again. ‘And did the dreamer say anything about that? About how it would go?’ Not one part of her wanted to acknowledge that she very much wanted some clue herself. She felt anxious about Amir and Sigurd, wanting some assurance that they’d be alright.

‘Ha! You really want to know, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes.

You’re desperate to know but too stubborn to ask!’

Tulia had quickly had enough of Sigurd, and she headed to the nearest table, helping herself to a jug of – she poured it into a cup, sniffing – ale. The taste was not to her taste, but Tulia tipped it down her throat anyway,

eager to get on. ‘So, what you’re saying, Sigurd Vilander, is that you believe the dreamer now? You believe the gods? You believe in the visions they send to these chosen women?’

Sigurd followed her, frowning. He didn’t know the answer.

He had always hewn to a path where the only things that were real were what he could see before him, or touch with his own two hands. But after the wolf, and the bruises on Alys’ neck, he’d felt a subtle shift, a change stirring inside of him, though he wasn’t ready to leave behind a lifetime of mistrust and cynicism just yet. ‘I believe only what I’ve seen. And Alys didn’t make those bruises herself. She didn’t make that wolf either, so… I believe some things. Just some.’

‘And has she seen anything about you?’ Tulia wondered, softening slightly.

‘Not that I’m aware of.’ Sigurd moved closer, eyes narrowed. ‘But I’d rather talk about you and me than Alys. About your plan… the one that involved us getting naked.’

Tulia laughed, spinning away from him. ‘Well, if we make it through the day, Sigurd Vilander, I shall come looking for you to celebrate!’

Sigurd stared after her with a grin, watching as she walked past Torvig, who scowled at her. Shaking his head, he turned and walked towards the hall, wanting to see his father.

Hakon felt his father riding with him.

He remembered what it had felt like to accompany him into battle. Against his step-mother’s strenuous objections, Jesper Vettel had taken his son into battle from the age of ten. He’d insisted that the boy needed to experience the noise and the fear of war. Jesper wanted it to wash over him like water, until he was bathing in it. Until it became so familiar to Hakon that when it came time for him to pick up his own sword and join the fray, he would be thirsty for the blood-letting, craving it like wine. Jesper had seen too many boys who thought they were men shit their trousers and cry for their mothers as battle swallowed them whole. He had been determined that his son would never be so ill-prepared.

So the thought of what was coming only excited Hakon. He did not feel either fearful or anxious. He had a dreamer, a powerful witch dreamer, who would alert him to any problems. He had an army bigger than his father had ever commanded behind him, men he could trust on either side of him, and an enemy he had weakened to the point where it was almost cruel to wage war against them.

But the cruelty was the point, his father growled in his ear.

To crush, rather than defeat. To twist the knife, rather than leave a clean wound.

The point was to be so cruel and merciless that your enemies – those you let live to tell the tale – would warn others away from ever bringing their armies to your door. Those terrified men would share and spread the tales of your viciousness, and your reputation for cruelty would grow.

Hakon sighed, thinking about his father. It was hard to be doing this without him. But the only thing that mattered, Hakon knew, was that he did it right.

That he made his father and his son proud.

Turning to Ulrick, who sat on his horse beside him, he smiled. ‘A good day for a battle!’

Ulrick nodded, feeling well-rested. His faithful sword was sharp, sitting proudly in its sheepskin-lined scabbard. Any hint of the illness that had killed his friends was no more than a tickle in his throat now, and when he turned around, he felt heartened by the stream of warriors riding and marching behind them. ‘It will be, my lord, though it may not be true battle for some time. Ottby’s walls are a real bitch.’ He remembered how many times he’d been pushed back off those unforgiving walls over the years. He had the scars on his face, on his arms, and on his back to remind him.

Hakon dropped his shoulders, lifting his head. ‘But a bitch dog can be tamed, Ulrick. And without men on those walls, what use are they but climbing practice for us?’ He was not about to have his confidence dented. Mother had seen a victory as decisive as any ever witnessed. Old hands like Ulrick were always harking back to the past; seeing every new challenge through their fading eyes; trying to invent reasons for why they might not be able to meet it.

But Hakon was not an old man, and he saw perfectly. As did his dreamer.

Victory lay ahead.

Only victory.

‘Can you talk to her!’ Agnette sighed, her aching feet and her aching back not as painful as the continual high-pitched shriek of her panicking aunt. She glanced at Alys, who had extracted herself from Eddeth’s ritual, deciding instead to head to the hall with Salma’s books.

Agnette had cleared out a spare chamber, sending Bjarni to help Alys bring the rest of hers and Eddeth’s things over. But even away from the main hall, Gerda’s voice still rang in her ears. ‘She seems to think I can be in three places at once. At least three! And in my condition?’ Agnette’s face was bright red, her hands wedged into her hips when she wasn’t trying to help Alys move something around.

‘What should I say?’ Alys wondered, feeling intimidated by just the thought of speaking to Gerda Vilander.

‘I don’t think it matters.’ Agnette lowered her voice, glancing at the open chamber door. ‘It doesn’t need to be the truth. Just reassure her. She’ll believe you. Gerda is a great believer in dreamers. Just reassure her that we’ll be safe in here. That nothing will happen to Sigurd and Reinar.’ And nudging Alys towards the door, she pushed her into the corridor, quickly turning around, wondering what else they were going to need.

Alys hesitated, before realising that it was probably useful to try and reassure Gerda. She wasn’t helping anyone to calm down. And as she walked back into the busy hall, she could see the panic was reaching a crescendo, Gerda in the middle of it all, flapping hands pointing in every direction. She saw Alys and didn’t even blink before heading towards her.

‘Well, now that my niece has seen fit to relieve you,’ she hissed irritably, ‘perhaps I may have a word with you myself?’ And without waiting for a reply, Gerda took Alys to the private chamber just before the kitchen that Reinar usually kept locked, filled with chests of his dwindling silver as it was. She inclined her head to the four chairs sitting around a disused brazier, and as Alys took a seat, Gerda took one opposite her. ‘I need to hear about Reinar. About Sigurd. About what will become of them.’ Having heard what Gerda thought of Sigurd, Alys was surprised to hear him mentioned in the same breath as Reinar. ‘I’ve not seen anything about

them,’ she admitted. ‘No more than flashes of battle.’ Gerda looked displeased, and Alys hurried on. ‘Which is encouraging,’ she insisted. ‘If something important had happened, I’m sure their faces would have come to mind.’ She thought of Tulia, whose face had definitely come to mind, wondering if she should warn her or Sigurd, but knowing that neither of them would welcome it.

Gerda sighed, her body vibrating. She couldn’t stop it. She could barely sit still. ‘And the fort? What of it?’ Her mind wandered to Stellan. When he’d been in command of his wall, she’d felt secure. He had stood there with all his loyal men, sending every enemy on their way, many of them headless. But Reinar had few such loyal men now, and she worried what would happen to her husband if the Vettels breached the walls.

Alys had no idea what to say. ‘The fort is strong,’ she tried. ‘And your sons have the advantage, don’t they? They have stone walls. Two of them.’

Gerda was nodding, sensing how nervous the dreamer was. ‘My son, Reinar, he is fated to become a great man, you know. Ragnahild One Eye said he would become the high king himself.’ She eyed Alys, watching her carefully, but Alys didn’t appear to even flinch.

‘I’m not an experienced dreamer,’ Alys admitted. ‘I’ve not seen it myself, though nor have I seen your son dying. If Reinar is fated to become a king one day, he will certainly survive what is coming, won’t he?’

Gerda leaned forward, hand extended across the empty brazier, touching Alys’ arm. ‘Not a king, the king, and you would do well to remember that if you want to remain by his side, Alys. You could become the dreamer to a great king if you take care of Reinar, watch over him, keep him safe.’ Her eyes grew desperate now, tear-filled. ‘You can’t understand, of course, what it is to be a mother. To stand by helplessly while your children walk towards the enemy, not knowing if they will live, or if you’ll ever feel their arms around you again.’

Alys swallowed, trying not to feel anything, but Gerda’s fear and pain were palpable, and she could almost feel her children’s familiar arms squeezing her own waist.

‘With my husband like he is, I can’t have anything happen to them. I can’t!’ Gerda stood, wanting to get back to the hall.

Alys did glimpse a vision of Reinar then, his face turned towards her, eyes aflame. And he was screaming.

Then everything exploded in bright lights.

Gerda tapped Alys’ arm. ‘Did you see something?’

Alys shook her head. ‘No,’ she said, trying to stop shaking. ‘No, nothing at all.’

‌ 9‌

They stopped for a break. The sun was surprisingly warm, and the stream was too enticing to simply cross.

Hakon felt impatient to move quickly, sensing the excitement in Mother’s eyes as she hopped around the bank, dragging the little girl after her, though he couldn’t deny that his horse and his men needed the water.

Ivan stretched out his back, lifting his arms above his head. ‘Not long till we see the impenetrable beast rising in the distance.’

Ulrick’s eyes were on Lotta. ‘And she will rise. Those walls come at you like cliffs. There’s no escaping them.’

Hakon snorted, looking at Lief to give him some confidence.

And reading his lord’s eyes, Lief did. ‘From what you’ve said, Ulrick, there will be few manning the walls now. I imagine Reinar Vilander’s wishing he had a smaller fort. A simple fort would hold us out. There’d be no gaps. No holes for us to penetrate. But they’ll have to spread so thin. That fortress will be like an open door, inviting us in.’

‘Exactly!’ Hakon agreed, his confidence lifting. He wanted to be at Ottby before nightfall, though they were some way away yet. ‘But perhaps they know it? Perhaps there’ll be no fight at all? Just a white banner flying, gates open?’

Ulrick laughed. ‘I doubt they’ll be that generous, my lord. I’m sure those Vilander boys are hoping to cover themselves in glory before you cover them in their own blood.’

‘Glory?’ Hakon sneered. He didn’t plan on sharing glory with anyone. ‘I doubt that. But they can try.’ His eyes sharpened as Mother approached with the girl, who was wet up to her knees, face covered in berry juice.

‘You have news?’ He could see it in the dreamer’s crazed eyes, which always popped open whenever she had new information to impart.

‘I have a desire to get moving, Hakon Vettel, that is what I have!’ Mother cried. ‘We have drunk, we have eaten, and now we must prepare for war! You must ready your weapons, and I shall ready my own!’ She squeezed Lotta’s hand tightly, and the little girl yelped.

Ulrick glared at the old woman. ‘Perhaps you should let her ride with me? We are old friends, she and I, soon to be family once I get her back home to my wife. She enjoys riding, don’t you, princess?’ He crouched down, one hand out to Lotta, who froze, caught between the enemy standing beside her, and the one right in front of her. But she hadn’t even decided whether to nod or shake her head before Mother bustled past, finger wagging.

‘This girl is of no concern to you,’ she growled up at Ulrick. ‘And never will be, I can promise you that. She is mine! Mine alone. Mine to find useful or discard as I choose. Neither of which require you to have anything to do with her.’ And lifting her head high, she turned it to Hakon, daring him to disagree.

Now it was Hakon’s turn to feel caught. He laughed awkwardly, glancing at his horse. ‘A discussion for another time, I think, for now, we must get to Ottby!

Eddeth’s chin still had blood from the sacrifice smeared on it, and though Alys tried to point it out, Eddeth was too busy fussing around her herbs to listen.

‘Do you think the symbols on the gates will help?’ Alys wondered. They had decided to escape the noise of the hall and the chaos of the square, locking themselves in their new chamber, though Alys found it impossible to stop asking questions, which was odd, she realised, as she had recently become the one everyone asked questions of.

‘I think they’ll send a message to Hakon’s dreamer,’ Eddeth mumbled, adding two bay leaves to the bowl. She was working hard, grinding her ingredients into a powder, and though Alys had asked what it was for,

Eddeth had refused to say. She was concentrating hard, her usually scattered mind focused on that singular task.

Alys realised that she should stop talking, for whatever Eddeth was doing might be helpful.

‘We want that dreamer far away from us, don’t we?’ Eddeth grinned, looking up for the first time in a while. She blinked, her vision blurry, trying to see just one of Alys. ‘And this will help. I’ve been reading all about it. How to block a dreamer’s sight. How to keep their prying eyes fixed elsewhere!’

Alys looked on curiously, but Eddeth had quickly turned back to her powder, grinding the herbs together, lips clamped shut. ‘I…’

Eddeth stopped, sensing that if Alys didn’t get out what she really wanted to say, she would never be able to get on. ‘I may be no dreamer, but you look weighed down by worries. Weighed down!’ And she left her pestle and mortar behind, dragging Alys to the bed. ‘You must tell me everything, for how can we work together if one of us keeps secrets?’

Alys peered at Eddeth, wondering whether she could read her mind. Or perhaps she was just hopelessly transparent? ‘I… Hakon Vettel’s dreamer, she… has my daughter.’

Eddeth blinked rapidly, then promptly sneezed all over Alys. ‘Well, that’s unfortunate! How did she get her, then? Your little girl? How did a woman like that get her hands on your daughter?’

‘I don’t know.’ Alys bit her teeth together not wanting to cry, though there was so much relief in being able to talk about Lotta that it proved impossible, and her eyes quickly filled with tears. ‘When Reinar took me, I sent the children away, told them to escape, to find my grandfather, who would look after them.’ She saw Eddeth’s eyes peel open further. ‘I have a son too. Magnus. He’s ten. Lotta is eight.’ She rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands, though her tears kept coming. ‘Though it all went wrong. Men took them, I heard it, though I don’t know how Lotta ended up with Hakon Vettel’s dreamer. I don’t.’

Eddeth pulled a damp cloth from her sleeve, offering it to Alys, who took it with some hesitation. ‘That is some secret indeed! You are right not to have told anyone, but somehow the dreamer saw, didn’t she? Somehow she saw! And now she has your girl.’ Her eyes were still blurry, full of worry.

‘What will the dreamer do to her?’

‘Use her.’ Eddeth sneezed again, eyeing her damp cloth. ‘To hurt you.’ Alys froze, knowing she was right.

She handed Eddeth’s cloth back to her, looking away as she blew her nose with vigour, wanting to let all thoughts slip out of her mind now.

Desperate to see some sign of Lotta.

Ivan could tell that Ulrick was stewing over the girl.

‘Why do you care so much about that child?’ he wondered. ‘There are many children you could take back to Slussfall. Why do you want that one?’

Ulrick’s smile was a sad one. ‘She looks just like my own daughter. That hair. I used to brush Gala’s hair every night by the fire while I told her stories of my battles. She liked to hear of warriors fighting. Of the gods fighting too.’ His voice faded quickly, and he remained silent, lost in the past.

It surprised Ivan, who had known Ulrick since he was a boy, though he had no memory of his daughter. ‘I’m sorry for you, and Bergit, but I think you need to look for another girl.’

Ulrick’s attention shifted from Ivan to Lief, and Hakon, who rode some way ahead of them. ‘Or not. I’ve defeated lords and monsters of every kind up in The Murk. That old bitch doesn’t scare me.’ He stared Ivan down. ‘I won’t let her keep the girl, know that.’

Ivan smiled. He hated Mother with a passion, and he was growing certain that she didn’t care whether Hakon became the King of Alekka at all. It was only the throne she wanted; the men and the power and the fleet of ships. Though Ivan knew he would have a hard time convincing his cousin of that. Hakon had invested all his hopes in the dreamer. He would not cast her aside easily.

‘Well, I imagine the girl would rather be with you and Bergit than stuck with that stinking crone.’ Ivan turned in the saddle, watching the wagon clattering behind them. No matter how far away Mother was, he felt her eyes on him. ‘But how would you get her away? That dreamer sees everything. Even inside your head.’ Ivan felt even more disturbed now,

eager to change the subject. ‘Though you never know what will happen at Ottby. We may all change our minds about things after that.’

Ulrick could sense Ivan’s unease, and he shared in it, but the girl was his. He had found her, and whatever he had to do, and whoever he had to fight, he was going to take her back to his wife.

Magnus looked sad, his head drooping as the afternoon wore on.

‘What is it?’ Jonas asked, handing the boy a hard biscuit. ‘Watch your teeth on that. Think I shook one loose!’ He winked, but Magnus didn’t smile as he took the biscuit, nodding his thanks. ‘Something’s eating you. Lotta maybe?’

Magnus shook his head. ‘No, my mother. I keep thinking about what they’re doing to her, the men who took her. She doesn’t deserve it. She’s a good woman, you know.’

Jonas nodded. ‘I know, and no, she doesn’t. She’s been through a lot, with your father, with what happened, but you needn’t worry about her. She can take care of herself. She can protect herself.’

Magnus snorted. ‘You don’t think so?’

‘I’ve never seen her fight back. I saw what my father did to her. I…’ It was hard to see the images; hard to hear his mother’s cries of pain and fear. ‘You’re wrong,’ he insisted. ‘She can’t fight.’

Memories flitted towards Jonas like butterflies, making him wistful for the past once more. He blinked, trying to focus. ‘I taught her how to protect herself. Vik helped.’ He nodded at Vik, who was busy trying not to break his own teeth on a biscuit. ‘How to hunt and use weapons. She knows many things.’

Magnus looked stunned. ‘She does? But… I don’t understand. Why didn’t she fight my father, then? Why didn’t she make him stop?’

Jonas felt anger heat his body like flames. The idea that Arnon de Sant had hurt and terrorised his precious granddaughter made him furious, though the man was dead, shot through the chest, his cruel reign of terror finally over.

Though, Jonas knew, thinking of Alys, the scars would remain.

‘I don’t know, Magnus. Your mother is gentle, and fighting is not in her nature. But she knows how, don’t you worry. She knows how.’

Leaving Eddeth to her powders and potions, Alys went for a walk around the square, wanting a moment to think. The noise was just as intense outside, which was surprising, she thought, with far fewer people in the fort than before, though those fewer people were still rushing around with purpose, creating an ear-splitting din.

One of them was Tulia, who grumbled as she hurried past, muttering something about Alys moving out of the way.

‘Wait!’ Alys called, turning after her. ‘Tulia!’

Tulia’s frown was intense as she spun around, holding a full quiver of fire arrows in her arms. ‘What? I have to get to the wall.’

She didn’t move.

Alys walked towards her, nervous now. ‘I… saw you in my dreams last night.’

Tulia’s frown relaxed slightly, a hint of worry in her eyes. ‘And?’ She wanted to know everything and quickly, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask.

‘I don’t know,’ Alys admitted. ‘I don’t know why or what it meant, but you were in pain, I think. You were screaming.’

Tulia blinked. ‘Well, there are many reasons to scream, and not all of them are bad.’ She squared her shoulders, scowling at Alys. ‘Why not keep your dreams for Reinar? He seems to like receiving them. Perhaps he has use for them, but I certainly don’t.’ And swinging around, Tulia strode towards the guard tower.

Alys stared after her, sharp pains shooting into her chest.

Ludo stopped beside her. ‘Tulia is… interesting,’ he grinned, following her gaze. ‘Sometimes, it’s hard to see what Sigurd does. Other times, it’s easier. She has a heart, I think, it’s just hidden.’

Alys wasn’t convinced that was true. She turned to Ludo. ‘How’s Stina?

She’s barely speaking to me.’

‘Me either, though I don’t expect her to want to talk to me, of course. The other women seem more alert, I think. But Stina…’ He felt odd because

she was his to care for, though he doubted Reinar or Sigurd would see it that way. But Ludo did. He enjoyed watching over his group of women. He cared about keeping them safe.

Alys saw Stina in the distance, but someone was calling her name from outside the hall, and she sighed. ‘Please watch Stina for me,’ she pleaded. ‘I can’t talk to her now, there’s too much to do.’

Ludo nodded, noticing that the sun was starting to sink. ‘You’re sure they’ll be here today? Not much left of it now.’

Alys was beginning to wonder that herself. ‘If my dreams are to be believed, they will be.’ And then she had a sudden realisation. When the army was here, the dreamer would be here.

And so would Lotta.

Feeling her hopes both rise and fall, Alys turned away from Ludo, almost running back to the hall.

Desperate to get away from Mother, Falla had made Lief find her a horse, and she rode towards the stone fortress beside him, away from Hakon and Ivan, who were riding ahead with Ulrick.

The trees were dark and thick, the canopy dense above their heads, and despite the rattling, thumping, creaking noises of their long column, it almost felt private.

‘I am with child.’

‘What?’ Lief had not been expecting that. ‘What?’ His dour face lit up, his mouth open, eyes unblinking. ‘You are?’

Falla took no pleasure in his pleasure. She didn’t love him. She desired him at times, enjoyed his company occasionally, and she needed him to protect and support her and her son. But Falla didn’t believe she actually loved him.

She had not wanted a child yet. She had wanted to wait and see.

Forcing a smile, she touched her stomach with her left hand. ‘Mother says so, and who am I to argue with that woman?’

‘You’re not happy?’ Lief was sharp-eyed and intelligent. He saw more than Falla ever realised. ‘Perhaps you did not want another child?’

Falla shook her head quickly, brightening her eyes as she turned her face up to his. ‘No, it’s not that. It’s the moment we are in, here, before a battle. That’s how I ended up pregnant and widowed last time. I wanted to wait. I wanted a home.’

Lief could see that, and it eased his worry. ‘The battle won’t be long, my love. They don’t have enough men for a siege. We will break in with relative ease, I promise.’

Falla wasn’t as confident, her sharp eyes focused on the fort in the distance now. ‘They appear to have a lot of walls. High ones too.’

‘We have everything we need to climb those walls. Archers, arrows, spears, catapults, towers. We’ve brought everything we need. Even an old dreamer.’ Lief did feel confident. Ivan was a fool, but a masterful warrior and their men liked him well enough to follow him to their deaths if necessary. Hakon was no fool, but he was young and still inexperienced in leading men to war. He had been boosted by their resounding defeat of Sirrus Ahlmann and their capture of Slussfall. But that had gone to his head, and he didn’t see that some fights would require more than just battering their opponent into surrender.

Falla glanced back at the wagon, knowing that Mother would do everything in her power to make them successful. And her powers were great indeed. ‘Then you should not fail, should you, Husband?’ Reaching a hand towards Lief, she clasped his. Falla was a strong woman, but she did not wish to be left alone by another husband. Not with only Mother and her son for company. She needed a man, and for the moment, that man was Lief Gundersen.

Ivan tried not to look around, but knowing that Falla was riding just behind him proved irresistible. He glanced at Lief, who was barely looking where he was going. His eyes were all over his wife, though there was not even a hint of a smile on his face.

The miserable prick.

Lief could find a frown on the brightest of days, on the drunkest of nights. But Ivan doubted that even Lief would be able to keep that frown going as they toasted their victory over the Vilanders.

If he lived to see it.

Ivan’s attention drifted to Falla, who looked especially delightful in her red cloak. He hadn’t seen that one before, constantly surprised by how

many cloaks the woman had. Not disappointed, though, for every new one seemed to complement her more than the last.

Hakon elbowed him. ‘At this rate, you’ll be leading our men with a knife in your back!’ he laughed, feeling a lift as the walls of Ottby came into focus. He had dreamed of this moment for three years, and he thought of Anders, wishing he’d brought him along, wanting him to feel the pride he had felt as his own father led his men into battle.

‘You think I couldn’t kill that old man? Ha!’ Ivan sneered, confidence surging at the thought of what lay ahead. ‘If you think that, you may as well put Lief in charge. Why do you need me?’ He cracked his neck from side to side, eyes on the fortress.

‘Don’t think I haven’t thought about it.’

Ivan laughed, turning to his cousin, who eyed him coldly, no hint of humour in his strange blue eyes. He was reminded of his uncle, Jesper Vettel, a man so heartless that he’d killed Hakon’s mother for some small slight, some mere hint of impropriety. And yet, Hakon still idolised the man. As did Ivan, if he were honest. Jesper had been a peerless warrior and a leader.

Though as a man…

Hakon was just like him. Only victory would slake his thirst for vengeance, and only victory with no mercy would be tolerated.

‘Well, Cousin, then I will have to remove all doubt. I will have to show you why you were right to choose me in the first place.’

Hakon nodded, pleased that Ivan had spoken the words he’d needed to hear. He didn’t want doubt or regret.

He only wanted an end to the Vilanders.

Reinar stood on the low wall, watching the mounted horses emerge through the mist-touched forest, wanting to see how big Hakon’s army truly was. In his mind, it was either small or immense, never something manageable in between.

Sigurd stood beside him, hands on the wall.

The fort was quieter now as the sun began to set, the sky awash with orange and red hues, bleeding into each other like flames; all of them

leading down to the ever-growing mass of warriors forming in the distance. ‘He’ll have the Slussfall men. His own from Orbo. The ones he picked

up in Valma and Osten too.’ Sigurd barely blinked, waiting, watching as the mass thickened.

‘Those he didn’t kill. If he’s anything like his father, perhaps there won’t be many?’ Reinar’s body hummed with tension and excitement. He clenched his jaw, watching. ‘He won’t attack tonight.’

‘You’re sure?’ Sigurd was surprised.

‘I wouldn’t, would you? A long march and then a battle?’ Reinar shook his head. ‘He’ll wait till dawn. That’s what I’d do.’

Torvig made his way down the rampart walk towards them, barely looking where he was going, one eye on their enemy in the distance. ‘The hall’s locked down. Bjarni’s taken care of it. Guards inside and out.’

‘Water? Is there enough water?’ Reinar wondered, remembering what Alys had said. ‘Thatch will catch quickly in this wind.’

He was right, Sigurd thought, worried about the hall. Its roof was tiled. Wooden. But it was no less vulnerable to fire than those cottages and outbuildings covered in thatch.

‘Least it’s all a bit soggy after the past few months,’ Torvig mumbled, eyes on the field. ‘That’s filling up fast.’ He could see the banners flying, small as birds beneath the vast expanse of the shadowy forest.

‘Maybe.’ Reinar’s expression barely shifted. ‘But he wouldn’t have come if he didn’t have the men. He’s waited all this time, gathering a big enough army.’

‘And now he’s here,’ Sigurd breathed. ‘He knows we’re weak. He can smell blood.’

‘Well, like his father, he’s a predator, so yes, I imagine he can. But he can also see our walls. These walls have defeated many an army over the years, haven’t they, Brother?’ Reinar turned to Sigurd, patting his shoulder. ‘And they will again.’

The mass of men forming in the distance seemed to halt.

‘Mattias!’ Reinar called. ‘Ring the signal bell. Let’s be ready!’ And eyes immediately back on the army, Reinar ignored his brother’s raised eyebrows. ‘I might be wrong,’ he admitted. ‘They might attack. I’d rather be wrong than make a mistake now, though.’

Sigurd was pleased to hear it. ‘Well, I’ll go, then.’ He felt emotion surging, twitching his body. ‘Good luck, Reinar.’ His brother turned to him

again, pulling him into his big arms.

‘And to you. Remember, we’re the Vilanders of Ottby. This bridge has never left our hands. We’ve never broken our oath.’

Sigurd felt Reinar squeeze him tightly, clapping his back, and taking a deep breath, he let go. ‘You think I’d ever forget that?’ And grinning now, he started walking backwards, eyes bright. ‘I’ll see you for our victory feast!’

‘That you will!’ Reinar called after him, watching as Sigurd turned, heading for the stairs. ‘That you will, Brother,’ he breathed, waiting until Sigurd had disappeared, before moving his attention back to their enemy. ‘Are you ready then, Torvig Aleksen? Ready to wipe every last Vettel off the face of the earth for good?’