Hakon had thought to attack immediately, but there was still some distance to get within range of the walls, and as they moved forward, he could tell that the field was boggy. Not a place to get stuck in as night was falling. The sky was clear and red-tinged, promising a sharp frost. The morning would provide a better opportunity to begin well.

Lief agreed.

Ivan, Hakon could tell, did not.

‘They know we’re here!’ Ivan insisted as they stood by their horses, debating what to do. Ivan couldn’t believe they were debating anything. It was supposed to be his decision. ‘You’re just giving them time, Hakon. Time to see our strengths.’

Hakon ignored him, turning to Lief. ‘We’ll make camp. Post lookouts. We’ll be at those walls before we next see the sun. Every man will sleep in his armour. Every horse will remain saddled. We’ll be ready to move at a moment’s notice.’

Lief nodded, turning away, black cloak swirling behind him. Ivan didn’t watch him go. His eyes remained fixed on his cousin.

Hakon felt oddly indecisive. Unexpectedly so. Everything he’d thought of was right before him, all as he’d imagined, but it needed to be perfect. They had not arrived early enough for an attack to be effective, and their first assault would set the tone for the siege, he knew.

That first assault could not be a failure.

‘A good leader can adapt, Ivan,’ he smiled, eyes on a bustling Mother, who was heading their way. ‘You remain in charge, of course, but realise that I will override you when necessary. Such as now. Prepare your men,

and yourself. We need a good sleep. A good meal too. It will put our minds and bodies in the perfect position for tomorrow!’

Ivan stared at his cousin with tight lips, jaw clenching, unwilling to speak even one word. It was not the time to argue, nor cause trouble for himself. He knew Hakon well enough to know that he wouldn’t even make it through the night if he made a fuss now. Nodding, he turned away. ‘I’ll see to it.’

They were camped amongst the tall trees, mostly fir and dark, reaching up to the sky, casting shadows over the Slussfall men and women as they worked to erect tents and set fires, before heading to the stream to collect water.

Mother passed Ivan, sensing his tension, hearing the angry words stampeding around his head. ‘You are not attacking?’ She looked at Hakon in surprise. ‘But there is still light!’ Her impatience was surging. After all this waiting, why wait any longer?

‘I am not, no.’ Hakon could sense that he was going to have a lot of trouble if he didn’t assert himself quickly. ‘And as it is neither your decision, nor my cousin’s, I don’t feel the need to explain myself further.’ His eyes were sharp, narrowed on the old woman, who held his stare without blinking.

‘My help and guidance led you to this place, Hakon Vettel,’ Mother hissed, furious at being spoken to as though she was some warrior of no significance.

Some servant who mucked out stables.

She was the most valuable asset Hakon had. How could he not see that? ‘And I am grateful. I don’t deny that your help has been invaluable.’ Hakon didn’t want to have this conversation out in the open, but there was nowhere to go. He tried to lead Mother away from where his steward was organising his tent. ‘But I do not wish to win this war with magic and

dreams. You must understand that?’

Mother froze, standing perfectly still as Hakon moved ahead. Realising it, Hakon turned back to her.

‘You no longer want my help?’

Hakon smiled, wanting to smooth everything over quickly. ‘I do, of course I do! But Mother…’ He took her arm, trying to encourage her to walk with him again. ‘A king must be a man both feared and admired. For his ruthlessness, for his skill, for his legendary feats in battle! I refuse to rule in

Stornas as a king who won with magic. As though I was too afraid to use my sword. I will not win victory by cowering behind my dreamer, an old woman!’ Hakon could almost see his father nodding his approval, and he pushed back his shoulders, feeling his confidence surging now. ‘Dreamers are valuable, and I cherish you, I do. All that you’ve done for me?’ Hakon shook his head. ‘I’d still be in Orbo without you. Still trying to find my way here.’ He didn’t believe that, but his eyes were insistent, and his voice was earnest, hoping he’d convinced her.

He hadn’t. ‘I see.’

‘We must fight as equals now, the Vilanders and the Vettels. As our fathers fought. There can be no war of magic, for who would fight on their side? And what use would that be to me?’

‘They have a dreamer! Or have you forgotten?’ Mother snarled.

‘You said she knows nothing. What threat could she be?’ Hakon waited, but Mother didn’t speak, so he started walking again, growing irritable with having to placate the old woman like a parent coaxing a child out of a tantrum. ‘You have done enough, Mother. They are outnumbered. We are strong. You have weakened them, seen ways that we can hurt them. And we will. But now is the time for you to step back. For you to watch.’

Mother was growing more incensed by the moment. ‘Why bring me along, then? Why drag me on this horrific journey, in that prison on wheels if you had no use for me? Why am I here at all?’

Now Hakon squirmed, not wanting to admit the truth. ‘I am not so arrogant to think I won’t need help.’

Mother’s eyes sharpened. ‘Oh, I see. You will wheel me out if it all goes wrong, will you? Send me into the fray to save you?’

Hakon stared at her. ‘You are my dreamer, Mother. If you no longer wish to hold that position, I cannot force you to stay with me. I wouldn’t. A woman as powerful as you? I don’t imagine I could stop you at all. But if we are to achieve our goal, we must each understand our place.’ Hakon’s voice was heavy; iron striking iron. He wanted her to know that there was no more to say.

No more for her to do, unless by his request. This was his war to win now.

The signal bells ringing from the walls reignited the panic in the fort; everyone rushing about, wondering what they might have forgotten; wanting to find loved ones to say goodbye to; trying to catch chickens and geese, who flapped around freely, getting in everyone’s way.

Sigurd strode across the square towards the hall where Bjarni was talking to the two guards. ‘Looks as though they’re not coming tonight.’

‘No?’

‘They’ve retreated into the forest, making camp. You can hear it. See glimpses of it.’ Sigurd saw Alys step outside with Agnette, both of them desperate for a breath of fresh air. With the fires burning high and Gerda full of nervous energy, the hall had quickly become oppressive.

The late afternoon air was bitter, and Agnette shivered, tightening her woollen wrap around her belly, anxious eyes searching Sigurd’s face. ‘You’re sure? Sure they’re not coming tonight?’

Sigurd shrugged. ‘No. Might be a trick.’ His eyes met Alys’, looking for some sense of how she saw things. She looked terrified, which didn’t fill him with any confidence. ‘But we’re alert to that. Reinar will stay on the wall most of the night, though I imagine they’ll come early tomorrow, before the sun.’

Bjarni jiggled on the spot, unable to keep still. As much as he wanted to stay with Agnette, keeping her safe, he was desperate to get to the walls to see what was going on with his own eyes. Reinar needed his advice, he told himself, struggling to keep his boots where they were.

Agnette could sense it, and she gripped his hand firmly, eyes sharp. ‘It will be as it will be,’ she insisted. ‘Tonight or at dawn. Whenever they come we’ll be ready for them.’

Sigurd saw the fear in her eyes, and he wondered again at the wisdom of staying. If the reinforcements didn’t arrive, what would happen to Agnette and Gerda? To his helpless father? To Alys?

‘They will come at dawn,’ Alys said quietly. ‘In the dark. I see the sun rising behind them.’

Sigurd blinked, wanting to believe that was true. ‘I’ll get a message to Reinar. Let him know. It gives us more time.’

Bjarni nodded. ‘Hopefully, men from Stornas will come soon.’

Sigurd didn’t reply. His eyes were on Gerda as she pushed open the door, pulling up quickly, surprised to see everyone milling outside the hall.

‘What is it? What’s happening?’

‘Nothing yet, Mother,’ Sigurd promised her. ‘Alys said nothing will happen till dawn.’

Gerda peered at Alys. ‘Well, if you’re that confident in what the dreamer sees, why don’t you all come down off the walls, then? Have some supper? Head for your beds?’

Alys was immediately flustered. ‘Well, I wouldn’t do that. I don’t think everything I see is real.’ That came out wrong, and she cringed, not wanting to say any more.

‘Is that so?’ Gerda snapped. ‘Then how can we believe anything you do say? Any advice you give? How can we?’ She blinked rapidly, eyes jumping back and forth between Alys and Sigurd.

‘No dreamer can guarantee everything, Aunty,’ Agnette said calmly. ‘You know that. They see what they see. We interpret it as we do, hope the worst is not as bad as predicted, and pray the best comes true. You can’t blame Alys for being unsure. She’s new to this.’

‘And we’re lucky to have her,’ Bjarni put in. ‘Reinar certainly thinks

so.’

Alys felt embarrassed. ‘I’d better get back to Eddeth.’ And she turned

for the doors.

‘Wait, Alys.’ Sigurd touched her arm. ‘I wanted to talk to you.’ He stared at her, eyes flickering nervously, waiting as she turned back around.

She nodded, ignoring a curious Gerda, and followed after Sigurd, who led her away from his family, through the darkening square.

Mother stormed back to Falla and Lotta, bursting with irritation. All her plans, all her hopes, all of them dashed! She was to be put aside. Shut up in her wooden box! Left with the useless women and girls to just twiddle her fingers and clutch her hands, praying the men would save them all.

She kicked out at a branch, grimacing at the pain in her toe.

‘What is it?’ Falla almost didn’t want to ask. She grabbed Lotta, pulling her out of Mother’s way.

‘It?’ Mother spat. ‘It is our noble lord, the little boy named Hakon Vettel. The one I have nurtured and guided and pushed and pulled to this very place. It is that he has chosen to go forward without me now. Without

us! As if we have no part to play!’ Her face was quickly turning purple, the whites of her eyes bright and full. She tried to catch her breath, to calm down, realising belatedly that they were not as alone as she’d imagined. Lotta was peering up at her, watching in horror. Falla’s mouth hung open, not sure whether she should attempt to calm Mother down, but taking a quick breath, Mother tried to do it herself. ‘We shall hold our place,’ she insisted. ‘Here. Here is where we shall be. Ready to act. For I guarantee you that boy is going to need my help soon.’ Her eyes were on Lotta, darkening now. ‘And when he calls on me, I shall be ready.’ Turning away from their campsite, Mother stomped towards the wagon, wanting to collect her things. She would need her book. Her stones. Her herbs. Her raven.

She would be ready. Waiting.

For the time would come when she would be required to act, whether Hakon Vettel realised it or not.

Sigurd walked Alys to Valera’s Tree.

People milled around it, but no one stood beneath its branches, or near its broad trunk. There was a quietness here, an almost private place, where the branches hung low, keeping them hidden. Sigurd glanced around, uncomfortable with asking for help. He told himself that he wouldn’t believe anything she said anyway, but he had to know. ‘Do you see Stornas men coming? Perhaps Algeir didn’t send any? He’s always been a tight- fisted bastard, and without Ake in Stornas to guide him…’

Alys scratched her nose. ‘I haven’t seen any sign of them, no.’ ‘Oh.’ Sigurd dropped his head.

‘But, that’s not to say they won’t come,’ Alys insisted, touching his arm. ‘There are many things to see. Too many. I can’t see them all. I feel things, sense them floating just out of reach. Sometimes they drift into my mind. Other times I feel I must sleep to find them.’

Sigurd stared into her eyes, lost for a moment. ‘I don’t know what to believe. Ragnahild One Eye? What I see with my own eyes? You?’ He felt disloyal for being there, as though he was going behind Reinar’s back. Though Reinar would never talk of doubts, he would never speak of running. But Sigurd had to ask. ‘Should we leave?’

Alys knew Lotta was out there. The dreamer had her. She did not want to run away from her daughter.

But if they stayed and were all killed? How would she ever get Lotta back then?

‘Reinar believes the walls will hold.’ ‘And you, Alys? What do you believe?’

Alys’ shoulders slumped. ‘I fear they will not.’

All the air left Sigurd’s body in a great rush. He nodded, turning away. ‘You need to find answers. You need to find a dream.’

Alys watched him go, hearing the tree rustle above her head as the cold wind strengthened, branches rasping like angry voices. She closed her eyes, listening, wanting to hear something useful, some sign as to what was coming. But all she saw was the same thing: fire and chaos; screaming men rushing through the fort.

Tulia’s face.

Opening her eyes, Alys looked down as Winter wrapped himself around her legs. She bent down, picking him up, pleased to see him, but he wriggled out of her arms quickly, skipping away.

Alys watched as he stopped, turning his head to her. And blinking in surprise, she followed him.

Hakon’s men seemed happy for the rest, though he saw the hunger for battle burning in their eyes as he walked around the fires with Lief and Ivan, ensuring they all had enough to eat; that their weapons were sharpened, their horses secure.

The smell of roasting meat and rich stews wafted towards them, and Hakon felt ill. He was neither hungry nor tired. He did not want to rest or sit. He barely wanted to speak to another soul, but he knew that a lord must be seen to care, to be interested. For if that lord wanted men to sacrifice their lives for him, he had to be worth sacrificing for.

‘The weather appears to be holding,’ Lief murmured, eager to get back to Falla. He was glad he’d brought her along; surprised he felt so strongly about having her close. But then he remembered the baby, and his heart swelled. It would not be easy to leave her. Fear that he would not see his

child born started to take shape in his mind, and he blinked it away quickly, not wanting to even consider such a fate.

‘Lief?’ Hakon asked again. ‘Do you agree?’

Lief nodded, though he had only been half listening. ‘It is a smart plan, my lord. Not something they will be expecting, I hope.’

‘You hope? You think they’ve had word?’

Lief shook his head. ‘No, but they have a dreamer, don’t they? Who knows what she may have seen.’

It was true, Hakon realised, his confidence shaken. ‘We’ll have to ensure we’re on our way well before dawn, then.’

Ivan had not said a word. Not a single word since they’d started walking the camp. He’d ensured lookouts were stationed all around them. He’d sent men further into the forest, looking for spies from the fortress, searching for any clandestine attack. He didn’t imagine he’d find any, for Reinar Vilander wouldn’t have a man to spare. Not after Mother had had her way with Ottby. So Ivan had listened, letting his temper simmer at a steady heat while Hakon entertained himself talking to Lief. Though, eventually, it proved impossible to hold his tongue. ‘They’ll still expect us.’

‘They’ll expect some things, I’m sure,’ Hakon grinned. ‘And we’ll have plenty to show them, won’t we? Now, come on, Ivan, this is our last night. Our last chance to toast to our success tomorrow. Stop sucking your thumb and let’s have a drink!’

Ivan could barely raise a smile, but he nodded. ‘That’s the best thing you’ve said all day.’

Hakon laughed, slapping him on the back, eager to get to his tent. Already thinking about taking off Reinar Vilander’s head.

Winter led Alys away from the square.

She was certain now that the cat was trying to show her something. To take her somewhere.

Night had fallen over the fort like a black curtain, stars shimmering, a moon full and ringed in yellow glowing high above her head, as Alys crept down the narrow alley between two rows of rundown cottages. Here, it appeared, was where the poorer folks of Ottby lived; the servants and slaves

who had little say over their own miserable lives, and no resources with which to change them.

The stink down here was intense, Alys thought, trying not to gag. It smelled as though every latrine in Ottby had been built in the same place. Eyes watering, she blinked, realising that Winter was no longer in front of her.

‘Where you going?’ came a sharp voice.

And turning to her left, Alys saw a toothless old woman watching her from a doorway; another face at the window beside her, peering out just as curiously. Shadowy and dark though it may have been, Alys could tell that they looked filthy. Famished.

‘I’m just looking for my cat.’

The old woman laughed. ‘Likely someone’s tooken it already. Had it for their supper!’

Alys hurried on, not wanting to fall even further behind.

The smoke was getting stronger; she could hear more voices now, louder, rougher. And turning the corner, Alys swallowed, wondering if Winter had merely been running away.

‘Are you lost, dreamer?’

Alys spun around, recognising the voice, shivers running up her arms. ‘No. I’m looking for my cat.’

‘You have a cat? Well, you are making yourself at home, aren’t you?’ Torvig sneered, coming closer.

‘What are you doing here?’ Alys asked, backing away. The alley was narrow and dark, and she felt frightened. The moon shone down on Torvig’s head, distorting his face with shadows, making it look gruesome. Menacing.

She wondered if it was a distortion at all.

‘Me? Well, that would be none of your business. Though, being a dreamer, isn’t that something you should already know?’ Torvig stepped forward, until he was close enough to touch her, and reaching out a hand, he grabbed her arm. ‘Why don’t I help you back to the hall? You do seem very lost.’

Alys tried to move, but his grip was firm. She felt hot all over, panic flooding her body as Torvig leaned his face down to hers. ‘Reinar will be expecting me!’ she blurted out, trying to pull away from him. ‘He’ll wonder where I am!’

It was the wrong thing to say, and Torvig laughed. ‘Reinar’s on the wall. Will be for hours yet. He won’t be expecting you. No one will be.’ And keeping one hand wrapped around Alys’ arm, he raised his other hand to her face. ‘No one will miss you at all.’

Alys was immediately back in Ullaberg, in her cottage, Arnon before her, towering over her, eyes aflame with anger, and she couldn’t move.

She needed to run, but she couldn’t move. Her heart beat faster, her ears buzzing. ‘Alys?’

Alys turned her head. ‘Ludo!’

Ludo was there quickly, but Torvig had already dropped Alys’ arm, stepping away from her.

‘Appears the dreamer got herself a little lost down here. Not quite the place for it,’ Torvig laughed, moving around Ludo, ready to leave. ‘Reinar really should clear this shit heap out once and for all.’ He rubbed his nose. ‘Since you’re here, though, you may as well help her find her cat.’ And bobbing his head at Alys, Torvig slipped around the corner.

‘Alys?’ Ludo stared down at her. ‘Are you alright?’

But Alys wasn’t listening, for she had seen a flash of white fur. And body trembling, she ran away from Ludo, towards the cat. ‘Yes! Fine! I’m fine!’

Winter led her towards an outbuilding.

The moon shone brightly overhead, and Alys could see a plough, which appeared to be in pieces; some tools, rusty and abandoned. The straw reeked, and she was reluctant to step inside, but Winter had sat down now, staring at her.

‘What have you got there?’ she wondered, unsure whether to feel foolish or intrigued. She was chasing a cat, believing it had something to show her. Something important.

A cat?

Alys approached it cautiously, one hand out in front of her, feet shuffling through the straw with trepidation, not wanting to stand on something sharp.

The cat bounced away, revealing… hay bales.

Alys turned to scowl at Winter, who stared at her from a distance now. He didn’t budge, and so she ventured forward, hands in the hay, rummaging around.

They weren’t hay bales, Alys realised quickly, just clumps of hay covering something. She pulled them away, throwing them onto the straw, staring at a small iron chest. It was not large, but it did look ancient. And placing a hand on its lid, Alys felt a jolt, as though something familiar existed inside.

Shaking her head, she tried to focus. The night was cold, and her teeth were chattering, and she was suddenly worried that Torvig might not have gone away.

Swallowing, Alys lifted the lid, listening to it creak, both relieved and surprised when it opened. She glanced around, conscious of how loud the creak had sounded. But Alys couldn’t see anyone. She couldn’t hear anyone either. And turning back, she reached into the chest, running her hands around, grabbing hold of something.

Rocking back on her heels, she lifted up what appeared to be a cloak. She dug back inside the chest, confused. The cloak was black, hooded,

and long. It didn’t appear extraordinary in any way, and Alys felt a profound sense of disappointment sink her hopes. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but whatever it was, it was most certainly not a smelly old cloak.

Turning back to the cat, she was surprised to see him come forward, sitting beside her now, watching her.

Perhaps he just wanted some milk?

She folded the cloak, ready to stuff it back inside the chest, but Winter jumped up at it, catching his claws in the fabric, snatching it out of Alys’ hand.

Alys’ surprise quickly turned to amazement as she looked down at the cloak Winter had pulled open, seeing the tiny symbols embroidered across its lining.

‌4 ,‌

Alys placed the cloak over the end of the bed. The chamber in the hall was bright and surprisingly large for a room not in use. The bed was generous in size – enough for two people to enjoy – and she turned to Eddeth with a smile. ‘You should sleep in the bed too.’

Eddeth had her eyes closed, lying on the floor, a pillow beneath her head, fur pulled up to her chin, exposing her bare feet. ‘I don’t like wriggling.’

Alys tried not to laugh. ‘You’ve never shared a bed with anyone, then?

You never had a husband?’

Eddeth opened one eye. ‘Oh, I had three.’ ‘Three?’

Eddeth closed her eye again, scowling. ‘Useless sods, all of them. I gave up after number three ran off with my neighbour. Never been happier!’

Alys stared at her, wondering what it would feel like to be happy. Wondering if she knew.

‘That cloak is special,’ Eddeth murmured, her body entering a slumberous state. She sighed deeply. ‘So special. And tomorrow, I’ll show you how.’

Alys sat down on the bed, watching her for a time, then turning to the cloak, she lifted it open, running her fingers over the stitching. Alys was transfixed. The tiny symbols were so fine it was as though they had been woven with spiderwebs.

And yawning now, she slipped into the bed, rolling onto her side, closing her eyes, trying not to think about Reinar.

Reinar knew that standing still would only make him colder. The brazier in front of him had burned down, and he couldn’t feel any heat from it at all.

Yet he didn’t move.

He stared at the dark lump of forest in the distance, trying to imagine what Hakon Vettel was doing; wondering if he was sleeping or creeping through the trees with his men, preparing their assault. Reinar smiled, doubting he could even move a frozen arm to reach for his sword if he was.

He was tired and his eyes hurt, but the thought of traipsing back through the fort only to lie in his empty bed all alone wasn’t appealing. Thinking about his bed reminded him of his wife, and he wondered if she was safe. Agnette had been worried about what she would do; worried that she would hurt herself. Reinar hoped she wouldn’t, though he couldn’t blame Elin for feeling drowned in grief. Sometimes it was hard to keep it at bay. He knew that himself. But he was the Lord of Ottby, responsible for the safety of all those who called the fortress their home. Responsible for his family and his friends too. For holding the bridge to Stornas, and keeping Alekka safe from those who sought it harm.

He was not the only man grieving, but his grieving was for another day. Reinar closed his eyes, feeling the cold night rattling his bones.

Seeing Alys’ face.

Her nose felt like a block of ice.

Alys had slipped her hand out of her woolly mitten, feeling around, checking that it was still there, attached to her face.

‘Put that back on!’ her mother scolded with a smile. ‘Here.’ And taking her hand from around Alys’ back, she tugged the mitten back on. ‘Whatever happened to the other blue mitten?’ she wondered softly. ‘Now you don’t match at all. One blue, one green. Like the sea.’ And wrapping her arm around Alys again, she resettled the furs, pulling her closer.

Alys didn’t know where they were going, but she lay her head against her mother’s arm, watching the trees rush overhead like shadows. It was so

quiet, she thought, just the sound of hooves drumming against the snow, the sleigh whooshing beneath her.

They were being taken somewhere.

A man had sent the sleigh, Alys remembered.

‘We must be careful,’ her mother warned, tucking her in close. ‘So careful, my darling. The wolf is always lurking. Waiting. Watching.’ Her eyes were on the trees, blurring before her, wondering what was out there, watching them.

‘What wolf?’ Alys wanted to know. She wriggled, eager to sit up. She was small, five years old. She couldn’t see over the edge of the sleigh.

But she wanted to.

‘What wolf?’ she panicked, heart racing now. ‘The one sent to kill you.’

Alys swallowed, everything going dark, her mother lost, all warmth gone now. She didn’t know where she was, just floating, feet dangling, drifting in the darkness. Moving now, up and up, a slow, torturous climb, before falling, tumbling down in a rush.

She felt sick; waves of darkness not letting her go.

Then a light, like sun hitting the water, glinting before her, and she was on a ship, bare feet touching wooden boards.

He was laughing, pointing to the village in the distance, happy. He wrapped an arm around Alys’ back. ‘Now we’re free!’ The arm was like ice. It was strong and hard. Alys was not free. The arm held her tightly.

She was not free at all. ‘Come to me, my love.’

And turning, feeling the arm release, Alys saw Arnon standing before her. He was younger; no scars on his face. His hair was longer, lighter. He looked at her with desire and need, and she walked towards him, unable to stop.

Tears fell from her eyes, but she knew she had to go to him. Her children.

She had to go to him.

They were standing in front of a bed. Not their old cottage. Another place they had first taken together. Barely the size of a chamber.

Arnon was grinning, slipping off his tunic, wriggling it over his head. ‘Come on,’ he laughed, throwing it on the floor. ‘We can try out the bed. I

won’t hurt you, I promise. You’ll like it.’ He pulled back the furs, patting the mattress, turning back to her. ‘Come on!’

Alys froze, eyes on the enormous wolf tattoo curling over his torso, up to his neck.

‘Beware the wolf, my darling,’ her mother whispered, ‘for it was sent to kill you.’

Torvig relieved Reinar, who was too tired and cold to do much more than grunt in passing. He rubbed his eyes as he walked back to the hall, finally ready to fall into his bed, but not for long. He knew that a little sleep would help him think clearly, though he almost doubted he could.

He saw the familiar shadow of Tulia just ahead, and hearing footsteps, she turned around, waiting for him.

‘Sigurd’s up on the wall?’

Tulia nodded. She could barely speak, too cold to stand around talking for long, so she started walking towards the hall again. ‘Who took over from you?’

‘Torvig.’ Reinar heard her growl. ‘You don’t have to like him, but he’s on our side. Not our enemy. Sometimes I think you forget that.’

Tiredness made it harder for Tulia to speak with care. ‘Sometimes, I think you choose not to see what’s right in front of you.’

Reinar stopped, hand out. ‘Meaning?’

Tulia shook her head, waking herself up. ‘We need sleep. Both of us.

There’s no point starting something now.’ ‘About Torvig?’

And then Tulia couldn’t stop herself. ‘You don’t see what everyone else does. How he really is. You must be one of only a handful of people who can even stand to be around him, Reinar. No one knows why.’ She shook her head. ‘I suppose they do –’

Reinar cut her off. ‘You’re right, no point starting something now. Best we sleep on it. I can’t even hold my eyes open.’ He felt irritable, tired of people complaining about Torvig, though most didn’t usually do it to his face. ‘Hakon will be at the walls soon. Torvig shouldn’t be on either of our minds, Tulia.’ And he stepped away from her before he said any more.

Tulia watched him go, too tired to be annoyed. She looked around, eyes on the tall inner wall, thinking about what Alys had said. Wondering why she’d been screaming in her dream.

Trying to imagine what dawn would bring.

It was still dark when Lotta heard the first sounds of movement outside.

She lay on the ground, on her side, staring at the tent flap, listening to horses stirring, boots crunching frost-covered earth. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted, and she saw a glimpse of Magnus, lying next to two men. She closed her eyes, squeezing them tight, trying to see who the men were, wanting to know if Magnus was safe. But she saw nothing more.

Feeling tears coming, she opened her eyes, trying to blink them away.

Mother had muttered loudly for most of the night, as though she was talking to someone, and Lotta had struggled to fall asleep. She felt sick, and her throat hurt, which worried her, though likely it was only from all that stinking smoke.

The tent flap opened slowly, the familiar face of Ulrick Dyre peeking inside. Lotta closed her eyes quickly, not wanting him to find her awake.

He froze, barely breathing, eyes on the tiny bundle on the floor, ears alert to any movement. The old woman lay on a cot bed; he saw the enormous mound of her in one corner. Lotta lay nearer the entrance, and if he could just…

‘Ulrick!’ Ivan hissed from behind him. ‘That’s not going to end well for you!’

Ulrick spun around, letting the tent flap drop. In the darkness, Ivan was just a shadow, but an annoying one. He sighed. ‘I suppose not, but you can’t expect me to just walk away from the girl. I found her. She’s mine.’

Ivan headed to the nearest fire, hands out, yawning. ‘If I were you, I’d forget you ever saw her. Don’t tangle with that dreamer. I’ve seen what she can do. You take something of hers, you’ll live to regret it.’ Ivan tripped over a rock, just keeping to his feet. ‘Or possibly, you won’t live at all. She’s not in a very good mood from what I hear.’

Ulrick followed him to the fire, shuddering with cold. He felt as though his beard had frozen in the night. His limbs certainly had, and he walked

stiffly, not wanting to hear Ivan’s advice.

Hakon waited with Lief, both of them jiggling legs, trying to warm themselves up. Falla fussed around the fire, begrudgingly stirring a cauldron of porridge, wishing she was still in bed.

No one wanted porridge.

‘Ale would be good,’ Lief said to his wife. ‘Feels like my tongue’s frozen to the roof of my mouth!’

Hakon grinned. ‘Feels like my balls have frozen to my leg!’

Ivan’s foul mood had been soothed by sleep and the warm company of his servant, whose naked body had draped over him like a fur all night. He smiled, looking forward to returning to her to celebrate their victory. ‘You should have kept them moving last night,’ he smirked. ‘I’m sure there were many willing takers to warm them up!’

Hakon laughed, pleased to hear Ivan sound like Ivan again. He took a cup of ale from Falla, ready for another three.

‘Let’s be quick about it,’ Ivan said, turning to his horse. ‘I want to go before they’re awake and waiting. Before the sun reveals everything.’

Eddeth didn’t want to disturb Alys, who she’d heard tossing and turning for much of the night, but she was fascinated by the cloak. She had lit the lamps early, though they were not bright, both of them emitting just a dark- orange glow. The floor creaked as she moved towards the bed, hand out, wanting to touch it, to run her fingers over the delicate symbols embroidered inside.

Alys jerked awake, sitting bolt upright in bed, staring at her, and Eddeth jumped back so abruptly that she fell over with a thump.

Alys barely noticed as she launched herself out of bed, running for the door.

If it hadn’t been so cold, Sigurd might have fallen asleep. He stood on the inner wall, hands over a crackling brazier, yawning. The sky was still as black as a raven, revealing nothing but stars and shadowy shapes, none of

which looked like an army on the move. He listened, though, wanting to hear any sign that Hakon was launching his attack, for surely night was ending, and dawn would soon arrive. He heard nothing but the whistle of the wind as it swept past him, disturbing the brazier, blowing his hair. Reaching up to his topknot, he took out the leather thong, deciding to secure it into a tight braid instead.

Hearing a noise, he glanced down into the square, watching Alys rush out of the hall, green dress flying behind her. Her voice rose sharply as she ran to the men guarding the gates. ‘Holgar!’ Sigurd called to the old helmsman, who was leaning on the ramparts, staring out into the night. ‘You’re in charge!’ And quickly tying up his hair, Sigurd ran for the stairs, heart thudding.

Alys was almost ready to give up when Sigurd emerged from the guard tower, hurrying towards her.

‘What?’ White breath smoke almost consumed his face as he panted, grabbing her arms. ‘What happened?’

‘I need to see Reinar!’ Alys was shivering, her bare feet red and numb as she waited impatiently on the icy ground.

‘Open the gates!’ Sigurd ordered, taking off his cloak and wrapping it around her shoulders. ‘Hurry!’

There was no snow, but frost dusted the trees, so it felt as though they were trapped in the depths of winter; white smoke streaming from red noses.

Hakon stood before his men, watching the sky change ever so subtly from pitch black to a deep indigo as he raised a hand to Ivan, who was looking on down the line.

And taking a deep breath, Ivan lifted his own hand, urging his men forward.

Reinar turned at the sound of the gates creaking open, squinting into the darkness, quickly recognising Sigurd and Alys. He waited impatiently for them to run across the inner courtyard to the guard tower and up the stairs.

Bolli stood beside him, blowing on his hands, wishing he could pop on his favourite old woollen gloves, but he needed to feel skin on his bow. He needed a steady hand. ‘What does she want, I wonder?’ he muttered, frowning.

But Reinar was already stalking away from him, heading for the stairs, waiting for his brother to bring the dreamer to him. Alys had dreamed something. He could feel it.

‘Reinar!’ Alys was breathless, wrapped in Sigurd’s cloak which swamped her as she came forward.

Gripping her arms, he stared into her eyes. ‘What have you seen?’ ‘Banners!’ Alys couldn’t catch her breath. She was almost too cold to

make her lips move. ‘I saw banners!’

Reinar glanced at his brother, who lifted his eyebrows. ‘Whose?’ ‘I saw the angry boar.’

Turning to the trees, Reinar could see those banners as tiny shadows fluttering in a light breeze, the sky lightening further now.

‘I saw a flaming spear.’ Sigurd looked horrified. ‘A dragon too.’

‘What?’ Reinar released Alys’ arms, stepping away. ‘But…’ He shook his head, wanting to hear more. ‘I don’t understand.’

Sigurd was quickly by his side, shaking his own head. ‘No,’ he insisted. ‘That can’t be right. Erlan wouldn’t betray us. Nor would Alef. Their fathers were Ake’s men through and through. Both of them! They wouldn’t go over to Hakon. Their families fought to remove his grandfather. They know what the Vettels will do to Alekka if they take that throne again!’

Reinar wanted to see the sun, hoping that Alys was wrong. He saw the shadows of Hakon’s army take shape, but it was impossible to see more in the darkness. ‘Go back to the hall,’ he said, turning to her. ‘I’ll send word when we know.’

Alys nodded, handing Sigurd his cloak.

He took it, not even thinking as he turned to his brother, eyes peeled open. ‘It can’t be. It can’t.’

Reinar had a decision to make, and he made it quickly. ‘If she’s right, you’re leaving.’

‘What?’ Sigurd shook his head. ‘No!’

Reinar grabbed him, whispering in his brother’s ear. ‘You’ve no choice. If Hakon has Erlan and Alef with him, we stand no chance. None. Especially without those reinforcements from Stornas. We can’t let Agnette die. Her child. Mother and Father. We can’t! Find Ludo, get him to help you. Start taking everything down to the ships at my signal. Check them first, see that they’re ready.’

‘But what about you? What about Ragnahild’s dream? It was real, wasn’t it? What she saw for you? You can’t die here, Reinar. You go! Take the ships and leave. Let me stay. She never saw anything for me, did she?’

Reinar brought his brother into his arms. ‘You will go, Sigurd. I have looked after you your whole life, and I’m the lord here now. And as the lord, I’m ordering you to save our family. You will. You will save as many people as you can.’

He pushed a reluctant Sigurd towards the stairs, turning back around. ‘Go! And look for my signal!’

‌4 2‌

‘We must prepare!’ Eddeth cried as Alys entered the chamber. She had quickly drunk two cups of lavender and lemon balm tea, but they had failed to calm her nerves, which flickered like lightning. ‘The enemy is at the gates, and we must be ready to face them down!’

Alys didn’t want to tell her that it was worse than any of them had feared.

She didn’t want to believe that it was worse, but her thoughts scattered quickly, flittering away from her like ash on the wind. ‘Prepare?’ She felt confused.

‘Your cloak! Our symbols! We must be ready with our weapons, Alys. Yes indeed, we will defend this fort together!’ Inspired into action by own words, Eddeth hurried a pair of trousers on over her nightdress. ‘These were my favourite husband’s, though, that’s not saying much, him being as big of an arse as the rest of them. But they’ll come in handy with all the running we’ll do today. I brought you a pair!’

‘What?’ That was the last thing Alys had been expecting. ‘I… don’t need trousers.’

Eddeth shoved the folded pair of blue trousers at her. ‘You’re a little skinny, but you can tighten your belt over them.’ And digging into her basket, Eddeth pulled out a dark-grey tunic. ‘I took this from Sigurd’s chamber. Might be a better fit than anything Reinar’s size.’

‘Eddeth!’

Eddeth ignored Alys, tightening her belt. ‘We need to be ready, don’t you understand? That dreamer won’t be waiting! You think she wants to be left out?’

‘How do you know she’s here?’ Alys slipped the baggy trousers on, feeling odd. They smelled musty, though they were surprisingly warm on her legs, and she undid her belt, moving it over the waistband, tightening it again, cold fingers fumbling awkwardly.

‘The dreamer? Oh, I think you know she is. I see it in your eyes.’

Alys knew she was right, she did feel it. ‘But what can we do? She’s powerful. Symbols won’t keep her out, will they?’

‘Maybe not. But we have more than symbols. We have our sight! We can see!’ And shrugging her dead husband’s tunic over her head, Eddeth wrinkled her nose, reminded of the foul smell of him.

Sigurd found Tulia, and they hurried through the fort, heading for the bridge gates. Tulia felt anxious about leaving her brother on the inner wall. He generally made poor decisions without her, and she was eager to get back before he did anything silly. If they were going to leave, she wanted to make sure Amir came with them, even if he had to bring that annoying girl. ‘Wait! Sigurd!’ Tulia tugged his arm, pointing to the ramparts above the bridge. The men on the wall appeared disturbed, hands flailing, moving around.

Sigurd tried to think quickly.

If Hakon had somehow managed to get men around there, that would have cut off their only chance of escape. He hurried into one of the guard towers, storming up the stairs, bow and quiver banging on his back, Tulia right behind him.

‘Sigurd!’ came the cry as he turned left, then right. ‘Sigurd!’

And Sigurd followed the arm of one of his friends, who was pointing to the bridge where armed men were marching towards them, led by rows of helmeted warriors on horses, banners flying. At least a hundred of them, Sigurd thought quickly, turning to Tulia with a smile. ‘Ake’s men! They’re from Stornas!’

Tulia didn’t know how to feel about that. The men would be useful on the walls, but there were not nearly enough of them to make a real difference. Not if Reinar’s neighbours had betrayed them to side with Hakon Vettel.

Sigurd’s face lit up, though, as he held up a hand in greeting. ‘Open the gates!’ he yelled down to the guards. ‘Hurry!’

Hakon Vettel’s army kept multiplying before Reinar’s eyes. And those eyes were screwed up in fury now, watching the banners flying.

Bolli was speechless beside him, having fought alongside the Stari and Olstein families for decades. He shook his helmeted head, irate, fists in balls by his sides. ‘How could they? How?’ Blinking at Reinar, he could barely keep himself still.

‘No one knows.’ Reinar felt his hopes and dreams shattering, leaving a single thought: to hold the wall long enough for Sigurd to get as many people away to safety as possible. ‘You have to leave, Bolli. I need you to find Holgar. Get down to the ships. Sigurd’s gone to check on them. Gather what you need quickly. As many helmsmen as you can. Find Sigurd and Tulia.’

Bolli was incredulous. ‘You want to run? Leave?’

‘No, I want you to leave. I won’t be going anywhere.’ The fire arrow flew up into the sky. Just the one, Reinar saw, as the wind carried the arrow towards the fort with a whisper, dropping it some distance from the low wall. Reinar let out a small breath, hand on Bolli’s shoulder. ‘Get going now. Go on!’

Bolli was fully dressed in his armour, prepared for the fight. He didn’t want to run away. He didn’t want to leave Reinar behind. ‘Who will stay with you?’

‘My men. I’ll send who I can. We just need enough here to make them think we’re all staying. Now, go!’ Hakon’s army was moving away from the forest, and Reinar needed to concentrate. He saw Torvig coming towards him, surprised by that, certain he’d only just left for a sleep. ‘Check the braziers! Check the water! Get the arrow runners ready!’

Reinar watched as Hakon’s army fanned out even further, knowing they’d be hoping to spread his men thin, stretching his defenses. He waited, counting in his head as the army edged forward, watching as the front rank stepped past a boulder his father had named the lucky mark. Turning back to the inner wall where Amir stood waiting for his signal, Reinar nodded,

pointing at him, watching as Amir spun away, looking down into the square, yelling at Ludo. And within moments, the first boulders were flinging overhead, aiming for their enemy.

‘Archers!’ Reinar bellowed. ‘My archers! Eyes forward! Light your arrows!’ The second wave of boulders flew over his head, and Reinar could smell the stink of fish oil in the air. ‘Nock!’ He waited, eyes on the packed heart of Hakon’s army, before darting to the flanks. Ludo had the catapults positioned in three directions, all of them creaking away.

‘Aim!’ The archers lined the inner wall, to the north, east, and west. ‘Release!’

The lucky mark did not sit on the boggy field alone. There were other boulders positioned between the edge of the forest and the fort’s low wall, marking the different ranges.

The fire arrows shot through the dawn sky, flickering brightly, landing nowhere near Hakon’s army. Reinar could almost feel the relief ripple through the rows of men who were moving forward slowly, careful on the field, sensing it was laced with challenges they could not yet see.

The fire arrows hit a long trough of oil running across the front of the low wall, which quickly burst into flame.

Torvig’s face was glowing as he headed back to Reinar. ‘Where’s Bolli going?’

Reinar thought of his conversation with Tulia, and he almost didn’t want to say. He blinked at Torvig, before turning at the shout from behind him, recognising his brother’s voice. And eyes on the inner wall, Reinar froze in surprise, seeing the banner Sigurd was waving.

The flames leaped up to form a wall of fire, men screaming all around Hakon as the boulders soared over the walls, crashing onto the field, sowing panic and confusion.

‘Back! Back!’ Lief urged. Horses had been left in the forest with their servants, and Lief was already regretting that he hadn’t pushed Hakon and Ivan to rethink that decision. He was struggling to see how much damage those boulders were doing; struggling to get a sense of who was holding, who was breaking.

Hakon nudged Ivan, who had eyes like a hawk. ‘Whose banner is that?

Can you see?’ He pointed to the tall inner wall, frowning.

Ivan was distracted, though, motioning for his men to hold, listening to the pained wails of those injured by the falling boulders. The wall of flames lit up the inky sky, showing how many were being crushed, how many burned.

‘Ake’s,’ Ulrick answered from behind them. ‘That’s Ake Bluefinn’s.’ ‘What?’ Hakon had quickly moved back himself, his long mail shirt

glinting in the hot flames rising before them. ‘I thought Ake had no men to spare!’

Ulrick shrugged. ‘He owes Stellan Vilander a great debt. He’s protected Stornas for years from this fort. I imagine he had a word with that stingy Algeir Tarkel.’

Hakon didn’t care. ‘Bring the catapults up! Now!’ he screamed at Lief and Ivan. ‘I doubt Ake sent an army, so let’s break them quickly!’

Ivan was growing more irritated with his cousin, who had praised his ability to lead and inspire their men, yet done nothing but dominate every moment since they’d begun. Ivan had barely been able to open his mouth. ‘We need to get the archers in range!’

‘Well, do it!’ Hakon’s eyes were sharp with fury, his body vibrating. He touched his pommel, wanting to rip his father’s sword from its scabbard and hold it to Reinar Vilander’s throat. He could barely contain his seething rage as it jerked inside him, demanding a release. But stepping back, away from the flames, he knew that they needed to get inside the fort first.

Reinar couldn’t leave the low wall now, but he trusted Sigurd to know what to do. Stellan had taught them everything about the fortress since they were boys. Sigurd would know where to put the Stornas men.

He would anticipate that Hakon would try to outflank them.

Sigurd could see his brother, hand in the air again as he signalled Amir, who called for another round of boulders. He hurried down from the inner wall, needing to get back into the square to Algeir, commander of the Stornas men.

Who didn’t look happy to be there.

‘It’s good you’ve come!’ Sigurd was breathless as he stopped, eyes still moving. ‘We’ve been betrayed by Erlan Stari and Alef Olstein. They’ve gone in with the Vettels. Their men are out there now, attacking our flanks!’ ‘What?’ Algeir was horrified, quickly far less upset with being dragged

up to Ottby. Losing Hovring and Vika weakened the Eastern Shore considerably. Ake would be furious. ‘You’re sure?’

Sigurd nodded. ‘Take your men through to the low wall. We have to stop them there first. Take two thirds with you. Take all your archers. Leave the rest with me!’

Algeir heard the snap and groan as the catapults swung again, flaming boulders lighting up the morning sky, and turning back to his men, he started shouting orders.

Bjarni had come out of the hall, wanting to know what all the noise was about, amazed to see Ake’s familiar horse banner flying from the ramparts.

‘Get back inside!’ Sigurd yelled, realising that they had to stay now. He felt both relief and fear wash over him, knowing that though they had reinforcements, Hakon Vettel had a vast swathe of armoured men out there. Giant siege towers too.

Bjarni hurried back to the hall as Algeir quickly organised his men into groups, and once ready, he followed Sigurd to the inner gates. After ensuring that Algeir and his men were let through, Sigurd grabbed the remaining Stornas warriors, heading for the guard tower, eager to get on the ramparts, wanting to see how everything stood.

Mother sat in her tent, listening to the screams in the distance, ignoring the terrified girl, who jumped every time another boulder hit the earth. ‘When children play games with men,’ she murmured, eyes lost in the flames of her blazing fire. ‘When children play games with men, they get their fingers burned.’ She turned to Lotta, who appeared to be shivering. ‘You are cold?’

Lotta shook her head. She felt numb. She felt nothing at all. ‘Well then, stop all that shaking. I don’t want to hear it!’

Swallowing nervously, Lotta placed her hands on her legs, trying to still her body. She closed her eyes, hoping to focus her mind on a different noise, but all she could hear was Mother, who appeared to be chanting. And

opening her eyes, Lotta watched as the old woman started sprinkling something over the flames, seeing them spark and spit. She couldn’t understand what she was saying, the words made no sense, but Lotta was sure it was evil. And she started shaking even more, squeezing her eyes shut. And then a tug, and she opened them in horror to find Mother sawing off a clump of her hair with her gleaming knife.

‘Perfect!’ she grinned. ‘Just what I need!’

Alys felt silly wearing the black cloak inside, though she didn’t deny it was cold enough in the hall, but everyone kept staring at her, especially Gerda.

Agnette hurried over, having spoken to Bjarni. ‘Stornas men are here! Reinforcements!’ Her voice carried over the worried hubbub of the hall, her news greeted with cheers of relief.

‘How many?’ Gerda called, leaving Stellan to hurry to Agnette’s side. ‘How many?’

‘One hundred, Bjarni thought, didn’t you?’

‘Give or take a few,’ Bjarni mumbled, eyes on the hall doors. ‘I think

so.’

Gerda was speechless. ‘That many?’

Bjarni winked at Stellan, who sat mutely behind his wife, eyes fixed on

some unknown place in the distance. ‘Well, Ake owes Ottby a lot. I’m sure he’d have sent more if he could have.’

‘So we will stay?’ Agnette asked quietly, knowing what Alys had said about the betrayal of their neighbours.

‘Yes,’ Bjarni nodded, wrapping an arm around his wife. ‘We’ve got more hands. More archers. More everything. More surprises for that little shit Hakon Vettel too.’

Alys stumbled beside Agnette, banging into a table.

‘Are you alright?’ Agnette wondered, turning to her. ‘Alys?’

But Alys was in a dream, lost in the clouds, hearing Lotta’s voice. She blinked suddenly, turning towards the corridor, needing to see Eddeth.

‘Forward!’ Ivan shouted, eyes popping open in fury. ‘Forward!’

The flaming wall of fire ran across the front of Ottby’s main gates, but not around the sides of the fort. Likely they didn’t have enough oil, he thought to himself, wishing he’d kept his horse, wanting to see more clearly what was going on.

That had been a mistake.

Now he couldn’t see the contours of their flanks. They seemed to be shifting sideways like a snake, back and away, just as he needed them to move hard to the front. ‘Lief!’ he bellowed at the dark-haired man who was further to his left. ‘Move them forward!’ But Lief didn’t even turn his head, whether because the noise of their panicking, burning men was so loud that he couldn’t hear him. Or perhaps, Ivan thought with gritted teeth, wanting to scream, perhaps he was simply ignoring him?

‘Forward!’ Hakon urged from the centre of their front rank. ‘We must break the fire wall! We can’t stay here, pinned in place! Get the range! Bring the towers forward! Hurry!’

Lief wasn’t sure what Hakon was thinking, but he was too far away to argue, so he ordered his men to hold, and ran towards Hakon, arms flailing. ‘My lord! Wait!’

Hakon spun around, irate. ‘You need to be over there, moving your men!’

‘After we fire the catapults, lord! After! We agreed that we needed to attack from the back. Remember?’

Some memory of that flittered into Hakon’s scattered mind, but he dismissed it quickly. He just wanted to be at the gates so badly. It was all he could think about. It was as though his sword was calling to him, urging him to move forward. The boulders flew, scattering the army, flames rising up all around him, the screams deafening now, but all Hakon could hear was the call of his sword. He stared straight ahead, eyes on the wall of fire, ignoring Lief.

‘We must approach this in steps, lord!’ Lief implored. ‘We must distract them as we planned!’ He didn’t know what had happened. Hakon had placed his slightly more experienced cousin in charge of their army, and then run through everything they’d discussed, making a mess they would now struggle to contain.

Hakon Vettel seemed intent on getting them all killed.

Ivan had run back to his cousin, having sent two of his men to gather horses for him and Lief. Hakon looked out of control, his eyes peeled back so far that he appeared to have no eyelids at all. ‘Cousin! We must fire the catapults! The Hovring and Vika men won’t move up on the flanks until we do! And they’re right! We can’t change our minds now!’

Another volley of boulders crashed down onto their rattled warriors, and the three men jumped away as a flaming rock rolled towards them, stopping quickly. Ivan fell into another man, both of them tumbling to the ground, helmets clashing. He rolled over, back on his feet quickly, stumbling towards his cousin, ears ringing. ‘You must listen to me, Hakon!’ He could see Lief picking himself out of a pile of men, shaking his head. ‘We outnumber them, so let’s act like it!

Tulia watched the field with a smile.

Hakon’s army was in disarray, which was a promising start. After her hopes of an escape had lifted and then been quickly dashed, she’d turned her attention back to the inner wall and her Ullaberg archers, who shuffled nervously on either side of her. ‘We’re the second line of defense!’ she called, wanting to knock some confidence into them. ‘The second line!’ And strolling back and forth before the women, one eye on Sigurd, she lifted her voice, making herself heard over the screaming panic on the field, and the flurry of noise down in the square. ‘There’s nothing for us to do but wait! Check our arrows! Check our bows! Ensure the braziers are burning! That water is nearby!’ Tulia almost felt tempted to send the women down into the square to help Ludo with the catapults or into the hall with Bjarni, but she had trained them. And some of them were more than useful now, taking pride in what they’d learned.

They deserved a chance to show it.

‘We wait!’ she called as Sigurd strode towards her. ‘Wait for my call!’ And turning to him, she searched his eyes. ‘How are the Stornas men?’

‘Tired,’ Sigurd grinned. ‘They marched hard, through the night.’ He saw the look in her eyes. ‘You thought we were gone, didn’t you?’ He turned his focus to Reinar, who was busy running the low wall. Always

moving. Continually checking their flanks. Looking back up to the inner wall, one eye on his brother.

‘Ahhh, who wants to live anyway?’ she murmured in his ear, turning with a smile as she headed away to speak to Amir.

‘She’s going to kill my daughter!’ Alys panicked, gripping Eddeth’s hands. ‘Lotta is terrified. I feel it. I saw the woman. She was threatening her life!’

Eddeth was oddly calm. Not one part of her moved.

‘She won’t kill her. Why would she?’ And pulling Alys towards the bed, Eddeth pushed her down onto it, sitting beside her. ‘Think it through. If you take a hostage, you have leverage. If you kill the hostage, you have nothing. No bargaining power at all! That old bat won’t kill your girl. Not unless she’s thick as a block of wood, and I doubt that can be true. Casting that wolf spell? Bruising your neck like that?’ Eddeth shook her head. ‘No, she won’t kill your girl. But she wants to hurt you. Distract you. If you’re worried about Lotta, you won’t be thinking about how to stop her, will you?’

Eddeth sat back, brimming with confidence.

Her mind was usually like a stuffed chest, and she struggled to remember anything, let alone order her thoughts. But the new day had brought clarity. Or perhaps it was the tea, she thought on reflection. She had added some valerian, which had certainly tasted like damp socks, but the result had been nothing short of staggering. ‘The day lies ahead of us, Alys! The men out there will throw rocks at one another until they grow bored or run out. They will fire arrows into the sky until there are no more. Hakon’s men will assault the walls, and Reinar will try to stop them, and us?’

‘Us?’ Alys turned to her, needing some reassurance.

‘We will be ready for what comes after. For that is where our destiny lies!’

‌4 ‌

‘You’re sure you know where you’re going?’ Magnus wondered as the trees closed in around them again. It no longer felt as though they were travelling on a road at all, but traipsing through the woods, which was pleasant, though slightly unsettling.

Jonas laughed. ‘You remind me of your mother! She never had any faith in my sense of direction either. I’m not sure why, I don’t remember ever getting lost!’ He rode behind Magnus, with Vik out in front. After the Ten Year’s War ended, Vik had disappeared for months, lost in the wilderness, needing to get away from death and killing, from people altogether. He had vanished like smoke, disappearing into the forest, exploring every corner of the Eastern Shore; going further inland, up North too. He knew more about how to get around Alekka than anyone Jonas knew of. ‘But don’t take my word for it. Vik’s the one who knows where he’s going. All you and I need to do is sit back and enjoy the scenery. Listen to those birds. Look out for supper!’

Magnus’ stomach was already growling, and the thought of supper distracted him for a while. He didn’t want a squirrel. Maybe he would see a pheasant or a rabbit. Perhaps a boar? That thought terrified him, though. He’d been on one boar hunt with his father, and the noise those creatures made was frightening; that and their enormous teeth. He nodded, quickly leaving those memories behind, never wanting to think about his father again.

‘We turn here!’ Vik called, hand in the air.

Jonas squinted, seeing nothing but walls of thick fir trees, deep green and sprinkled with frost. It felt dark within the wood. Ice cold too. He had

no idea where they were, but hopefully, they would see the sun soon.

The sun was being swallowed by the gathering clouds as Reinar watched his enemy from the low wall. The wind had strengthened, blowing into his face with an icy determination, and he shivered as he ran his eyes over the field. They had a healthy supply of boulders, he knew, but it would be important to hold some of them back, and so, the catapults had gone quiet as they waited for Hakon Vettel to make his next move.

His men seemed disorderly, his leaders absent.

There was little formation on the field, which surprised Reinar, who had known Hakon’s father as a man of precision in battle. Jesper Vettel had been vain and vicious, with grand ambitions of reclaiming his father’s throne. He had done everything in his power to realise that ambition, though in all his years of trying, he’d been unable to get through Ottby.

Reinar briefly saw his own ambitions flash before his eyes, wondering if he too was a vain man for ever entertaining them.

‘He’s acting like a boy!’ Torvig laughed beside him. ‘A boy who’s seen a piece of cake. And everything else has gone from his mind. He just wants the fucking cake!’

Reinar’s smile was barely discernible. Torvig was right, but perhaps it was all a game? Perhaps Hakon was planning to lull them into a sense of complacency? Especially now that they’d received reinforcements. ‘Well, he’s welcome to try and take a piece. I wouldn’t mind. But he’s got a long way to go to get here, and a lot of men who won’t be happy being pushed forward now. Not through those flames.’

Torvig was struggling to stand still. He needed to eat, sleep, and splash some water onto his face to wake himself up. His mind wandered to Stina, realising that it wasn’t all he needed. ‘When will we send the signal?’ Torvig asked, eager to take his mind off the Ullaberg woman. His need for her was growing. She was like a helpless animal.

It excited him.

Reinar blinked. ‘Soon. Don’t worry, I’ll do it soon.’ He walked away from Torvig, digging a deep frown between his eyebrows, wanting to know if he’d thought of everything. Doubting he had. His traitorous neighbours

had been inside the fort as guests many times over the years. They had sat at his table, fought in his shield wall, even attended his wedding. And now they stood out there, proudly flanking the enemy of Ake Bluefinn, both of them betraying everything they had all fought so hard for.

Reinar’s anger festered as he paced up and down the wall, wishing Alys was there. He wanted to talk to her. See her. Know what she thought. It surprised him how easily her face came to him now, how quickly he felt distracted by her. Thinking about Alys cleared his mind for a moment, and he strode back to Torvig, feeling more decisive. ‘Send the signal. Do it now!’

And nodding, Torvig pulled his bow over his head, leaning forward to retrieve the long arrow he had set aside from all the others.

This ones fletching had been dyed red.

The chaos had not lessened, and Lief was just about to suggest they retreat and regroup, far out of range, when an arrow came shooting towards them. They were beyond the fire wall, and none of the men even flinched, but it was curious, that single arrow as it dug into the ground, mud sucking its tip into the frosty earth.

Lief frowned, eyes on the red fletching.

Ivan looked irritated as the arrow had interrupted his promising conversation with Hakon, who quickly became distracted again.

‘A single arrow? Red? What does that mean?’ Hakon turned to Ivan, demanding an answer.

‘It means that until we move into range, they can’t hit us, Cousin,’ Ivan said calmly. ‘Not with their arrows, at least. Though we should be prepared for more boulders.’

‘You think it’s wrong to make them use them all up?’ Hakon challenged, blinking rapidly.

‘Well, use them all up is one way to say it. Or killing our men, that’s another!’

Hakon glared at him, stepping forward, jutting out his bearded chin. Lief intervened. ‘It’s a signal. A sign.’

‘To who?’ Hakon spun around, but Lief was already walking away from his lord, cutting a path through the wounded men, around the flames, past the boulders. He stopped, turning, eyes back on the fort, then up to the sky, which was free of arrows, but thick with clouds now. ‘I say we move back, lord!’ he called, hairs rising up his arms. ‘Out of range of their catapults at least.’

Hakon nodded, embarrassed that he had sown confusion, overriding his commanders. He had no idea what had gotten into him. It was as though he couldn’t control a single thought in his head, nor his legs or arms. Everything appeared to be working independently of him. ‘We move back!’ he called, embracing a moment of clarity, to the relieved sighs of Lief and Ivan, who wanted to get the injured to safety, and themselves out of the path of the killing boulders. Those servants who had healing skills waited just before the tree-line where tents had been erected to treat the wounded.

Ignoring Ivan, who stood in front of him, Hakon instead turned to Lief, looking at him to lead the way.

Which Lief quite naturally did.

And with his typical long stride, he encouraged the army to form behind him. ‘We move back!’ he bellowed, turning from side to side. ‘All fall back!’

Ivan fell in beside Hakon, looking for some sign that his cousin had truly calmed down. But Hakon didn’t acknowledge him at all. He started moving up behind Lief, leaving Ivan in his wake, confused.

Ivan bent down to help one of his warriors lift a wounded man off the ground. The young man had lost a leg, the bottom half of which was trapped under a boulder, and he appeared not to realise it. The shock made the man confused and angry, and he tried to get away from them, wanting to walk on his own. Arms flailing, he whacked Ivan in the mouth.

Ulrick was there, behind him, grabbing the wounded man. ‘Here, I’ll take him. You should get up there, talk to Hakon.’ He was concerned with what he’d seen from the young lord so far. Hakon had caused more trouble than a fox amongst the chickens, and now they were running away before the sun had reached its peak. He shook his head, knowing that Jesper Vettel would never have acted with such petulance. ‘A moment to think will do him good,’ he muttered to Ivan, who walked alongside him, arms constantly moving, encouraging his men to turn and follow him. ‘Might clear that fog in his head.’

Ivan hoped Ulrick was right, amazed at what a mess Hakon had made. And then the first wave of arrows shot towards them from the forest.

First the whistles, then the sickening thuds as they struck men in the muddled front ranks, piercing arms, chests, faces. And the surprise and shock of it sparked even more panic.

Ivan’s head went up, and then his shield.

He was shorter than many of the men in front of him, and he struggled to see what was happening; though he felt relieved not to be on his horse or he would have been an easy target.

Another wave of arrows, and now the men started turning, running back towards the fort, banging into those who were retreating.

‘No!’ Lief screamed, watching the chaos intensify. ‘Hold!’ The arrows were coming from the trees. From inside the forest. But where? Not at their camp, he hoped, his mind immediately with Falla. ‘Shields! Shields to the front! Shield Wall!’

Ivan was quickly beside him, shield overhead, Hakon on his right. ‘Archers!’ He turned, bellowing. ‘Aim for the trees! Fire at will!’ But before he’d even closed his mouth, more arrows shot from the forest, giving him a better sense of where they were coming from. ‘Watch your flanks!’ Ivan shouted, shield above his head, feeling an arrow smack into it, splitting the wood.

Screams. Flames bursting behind them, hot and angry. Wounded men, begging to be helped, left writhing on the field.

The stink of death rising up around them. And smoke.

Lief spun, catching Hakon’s eye. Hakon was sniffing the air, turning back to the wall of fire, which still burned with hunger. But that smoke was blowing away, towards the fort.

‘It’s coming from the forest!’ Ivan cried. ‘The forest’s on fire!’

That shot a bolt of fear through Lief, who now couldn’t think about anything but his pregnant wife.

‘They wouldn’t burn the forest!’ Hakon sneered. ‘Their own forest?’ ‘Well, likely they didn’t do it on purpose,’ Lief frowned, trying to see

through the thickening smoke. ‘But we need to hurry back to camp! Quickly!’

Hakon nodded, following after him, Ivan behind them.

The smoke intensified, billowing towards them now, slowly engulfing them in great choking waves.

They couldn’t see. They couldn’t breathe.

‘Keep going!’ Lief insisted, coughing. He had no thought of reaching the fort now. He needed to get through the smoke and find his wife.

Falla stood outside Mother’s tent, sniffing the air. ‘Something’s happening!’ she called, wishing the old woman would come out. She’d only had gossiping servants for company since the men had left, and none of them had any information or insight about what was happening at all. Falla felt blind and anxious, hearing voices in the trees. Sensing movement.

The horses were unsettled, and the men guarding them looked concerned too. Sometimes they would send one of the boys who helped them care for the horses further into the forest to see what was happening. The warriors guarding the camp did not leave their positions, but Falla could tell they were worried.

Everything sounded so strange.

Eventually, Mother pulled back the tent flap, emerging into the campsite. The air was smoky, windy, the sky a dull-grey above the tree canopy now. ‘I imagine we’ll see them soon,’ she smiled. ‘Running back home with their tails between their legs. Little puppies, all of them!’ She turned around, encouraging Lotta outside. ‘Take a breath of air, my child. Falla will find you something to eat, I’m sure. And then we’ll prepare for the return of our conquering… oh no, that’s right, not quite. Not yet. And not without me!’ And turning away, she waddled back into the tent, letting the flap close after her, eager to get back to her fire.

Falla stared at the blinking girl, who appeared confused but relieved to be away from Mother. Falla didn’t blame her. ‘What do you see? Anything?’

Lotta nodded. ‘Smoke. It’s coming.’

Sigurd had joined Reinar on the low wall. ‘Is the boy an idiot? What’s he been doing all morning? Running in circles? Chasing his tail?’

Hakon’s men had run out of range. Away from the lucky mark. Their catapults couldn’t hit them now.

The archers they had planted in the forest could, though. There weren’t many, for he couldn’t afford to be without even one. But it was important to get the upper hand early, to create at least the illusion of danger and threat. To not let Hakon see Ottby as merely a series of walls to climb over with ease.

Reinar didn’t plan on making anything easy for the boy who would be king.

‘Looks like he might be.’

‘Well, more luck for us, then. Elin wouldn’t recognise you now, would she? Your luck has surely returned, Brother.’ Sigurd clapped Reinar on the back, handing him a cup of ale. It was freezing as they stood around the glowing brazier, the wind playing havoc with its flames. ‘Might be a storm coming.’

‘Well, that would dampen things a bit,’ Reinar mused, sipping the ale. ‘I’d rather it held off while we have our fun, though. We’re just getting started!’

It felt good to be on top, though they wouldn’t be on top for long. They didn’t have the men. But they did know the fort and the forest, and they knew how to play games with a powerful enemy.

Stellan had taught them that.

And lifting his cup in the air, Reinar called on Thenor to grant them a reprieve from thunder and lightning. ‘Just a while longer,’ he insisted. ‘Just a while longer.’

Hakon and his men were trapped on the field. The smoke pumped towards them from the forest, but to escape it meant turning back to where the flaming wall burned and then they’d be within range of the catapults again.

That gap between smoke and flames was shrinking fast.

Erlan Stari was already regretting his decision to abandon all reason and put his men behind Hakon Vettel’s banner. The man had acted like a boy,

placing them all in danger, not just of being humiliated and laughed out of every hall in Alekka, but in real danger of dying on the field where they had fought all those years beside the Vilanders.

Erlan’s choice stuck in his throat, and he couldn’t swallow. More arrows, piercing the smoke.

Men, gasping and grunting in shock, tumbling to the ground. Screams rising, panic following.

‘This way!’ came a voice. ‘This way!’

Ivan followed the voice, though he didn’t recognise it, and it was quickly lost in another flurry of arrows and shrieking cries of pain. ‘Hakon!’ he screamed, losing sight of his cousin. ‘We need to move! Follow me!’ He bent over, coughing, gagging, trying to breathe. Dropping to the ground, Ivan rubbed his hand on the frosty mud, lifting some of it back to his face, smearing it over his nose, cheeks, and mouth. The cold, moist frost woke him up, helping him to breathe, and he was quickly back on his feet, searching for his cousin, eyes stinging, trying to see.

‘Here! Ivan! Here!’ came Hakon’s voice. ‘Follow us!’

Ivan spun back to where he wanted to go, thinking it the quicker route back to their camp, but he didn’t want to be left behind. In the carnage and chaos Hakon had helped to sow, it would only make things worse if they lost each other now. And so, hands out in front of him, trying to see, Ivan ploughed on through the smoke, following Hakon’s voice.

Reinar’s men, who had been hidden in the forest, wafting smoke from the herb-laced wattle towers they had constructed, left their posts now, slipping through the trees, following after the archers, who had sat in wait all night at Reinar’s command. They were out of arrows now, and there was nothing more they could do to cause trouble. They had to head back to the fort, skirting the field and the enemy, awaiting the next assault.

Ulrick watched Reinar Vilander’s men silently creeping through the smoke.

He did nothing to stop them. They had wreaked havoc, and now they would retreat back to the fort. And he would let them.

For he had other plans.

Mother could see in the flames.

She dipped a finger into the bloody mixture she’d been working on all morning, painting symbols on her hands, sweeping them over the dancing fire.

Burning, burning, dancing fire.

She had been sipping a potion since dawn, and now, the clarity was astonishing. Her mind jumped from one place to the next, revealing everything she needed to see.

Hakon was running, lost in the smoke. That victorious lord, Reinar Vilander, stood gloating on his wall. But not for long. ‘Not for long!’ she hissed at the flames, watching them writhe like angry snakes before her. ‘For once Hakon has been tamed, I will need to step in, wouldn’t you say?’

Mother was never alone. Her sons were always with her, around her. Dark-haired Borg and Rolan; blonde-haired Toki, who had not been her husband’s child. Though her husband had been skilled with an axe, he had also been a fool and had never suspected a thing.

She let those thoughts float away and herself with them.

The girl. Lotta. Blonde-haired little Lotta. Such a pretty thing. And no idiot, Mother realised. She was no idiot at all.

Looking down, she saw the clump of hair on the ground. Something for later, she smiled. For when Hakon was before her, begging for help.

She would keep that for later.

The smoke smelled strange, Hakon thought, stumbling, tripping over the tangled tree roots marking the path back to camp.

Everything was a mess.

The smoke stung his eyes, clogging his throat. He was struggling to breathe; struggling to see or think as well. Lief was beside him, and sometimes he turned, urging him on, his eyes oddly dark, bigger than Hakon remembered. He hurried along, losing his balance often, arms out. The trees jerked into view, crowding him. He yelped, afraid they were toppling, sawn through, falling on top of him. He heard snapping, cracking,

noises so loud he wanted to put his hands over his ears, but he would surely lose his balance then.

‘My lord!’ Lief couldn’t grab Hakon, who kept moving away from him. ‘My lord! This way!’ His ears were ringing, eyes watering, and though Lief knew there was something in the smoke, some herbs burning in it, he couldn’t stop inhaling it.

Men were yelling, but he couldn’t tell where they were. He couldn’t tell whose men they were.

Stopping, he drew his sword, swinging around. Who was there? Someone.

Someone was going to attack them. Kill Hakon.

He wondered if it was him. He didn’t believe in the boy lord. Didn’t want to follow him at all. He was not the right man to be king; Lief knew that in his heart.

‘Hakon!’ Ivan screamed. ‘Hakon! Where are you?’

Lief blinked, sheathing his sword, needing both hands again, the smoke thickening now, making him dizzy.

Ivan bumped into him, grabbing Lief’s arms. ‘Where’s my cousin? Where is he?’ His head was spinning. He’d found Hakon, held his arm for a moment, but now he was gone.

‘The smoke!’ Lief rasped, struggling to speak. ‘We have to move!’

Ivan nodded, though he was suddenly looking at more than one Lief. He blinked repeatedly, trying to see clearly. And then Lief was gone.

‘Forward!’

‘Hakon?’ Ivan stumbled onwards, hands trying to part the smoke; panicking now, heart racing. ‘Hakon!’

‌4 4‌

Eddeth had run back to her cottage for a pair of boots, not happy with the ones she’d brought with her. Alys barely noticed she had gone. Agnette was talking to her on one side, Gerda on the other, the hall filled with a heady optimism, mingled with a sense of desperation for more news.

Word about Reinar and Eddeth’s plan with the smoke had raced through the fort, and everyone felt a lift, hearing how Hakon Vettel’s army was in tatters. But there was still much more to go.

So much more.

Suddenly, Agnette gasped, gripping her stomach.

In the press of bodies and the clamour of demanding voices, Alys hadn’t heard the splash of water on the floor, but Agnette had felt it. She gripped Alys’ arm.

Alys turned to her, seeing her clenched jaw and the terror in her eyes. ‘Your baby?’

Agnette nodded.

‘Gerda!’ Alys tried to interrupt her. ‘Stop! Please! Agnette’s child is coming!’

‘What?’ Gerda looked horrified, and slightly irritated. ‘Now? Agnette, surely it’s just something you’ve eaten? Surely it’s not coming now?’

Agnette wanted her baby to come even less than Gerda, and she felt herself panicking, hot all over.

‘I’ll take you back to your chamber. Bjarni!’ Alys spun around, trying to see his familiar thick thatch of blonde hair. ‘Bjarni!’ She pushed herself onto her tiptoes, looking for him, surprised when he emerged from the kitchen, chewing a mouthful of walnuts.

One look at his wife gripping her belly, face contorted with pain, and he swallowed the nuts in a big gulp, hurrying forward.

‘Where’s Eddeth gone?’ Gerda demanded, grabbing a servant who was rushing past. ‘You wait there, my girl.’ She stared at Alys. ‘Eddeth?’

‘She went back to her chamber for some boots.’

Gerda turned back to the servant. ‘You will go and find Eddeth. Drag that woman back here quickly. Do not let her mutter on or wander off! Tell her Agnette needs her!’

Everyone had frozen to the spot, stunned by the terrible timing of Bjarni and Agnette’s child.

‘Let’s get you to your chamber,’ Alys smiled. ‘Eddeth will want to have a look at things, I imagine. Best you’re lying down.’

Agnette nodded, shaking. ‘He can’t come now. Not now.’

Bjarni was by her side, arm around her back, walnut stuck in his throat. ‘It will be some story to tell, won’t it? Born during a battle? Our son!’ He tried to turn feelings of terror into excitement, smiling at his wife with a forced grin, his eyes bright with worry. And coughing, trying to clear his throat, he led her through the crowded hall towards their chamber, following after Alys.

Falla ran to her husband, who emerged through the trees, dark eyes blinking. And relieved to see her, he bent over, coughing, his men slowly filtering in behind him.

‘Why are you back? Is the forest on fire?’

The smoke was certainly drifting, spreading like fog, and it was impossible now to tell where the sky ended, and the smoke began. The smell was overpowering, and Lief knew it wasn’t a simple forest fire.

Needing something to drink, he rushed to the nearest tent, rummaging around on the ground, finding a waterskin. Swigging until the water was gone, he hurried back to his wife, panting, wiping a pale hand over his dark beard. ‘It all went wrong.’

Falla looked horrified. ‘Already?’

Lief shook his head. Her voice sounded so far away. His mouth wouldn’t make the right shapes, and he could barely get his thoughts in a

straight line. Throwing the skin to the ground, Lief pulled her to him. ‘We have to move. I have to get you away from the smoke. Don’t breathe!’

‘Lief!’ Ivan stumbled down to the ground beside him, coughing. And grabbing the waterskin, he lifted it to his lips, disappointed to find it empty; his throat felt filled with dust. ‘Where’s Hakon?’ he croaked. ‘I thought he was with you?’

Lief shook his head, coughing some more. ‘We have to keep moving.

Move the men away from the smoke!’

‘It will disperse,’ came a steady voice.

And through the clouds of smoke waddled a dark-cloaked Mother, hood over her hair, hanging low. ‘It’s only a little smoke, and that wind is getting stronger. Can’t you feel it? Best thing you can do is stay in one place. Rest, drink what you can find, wait for it to float away.’

Lief wasn’t inclined to believe the old witch, but Ivan grabbed his arm. ‘Gather the men into the camp. Keep them together. Keep them calm. I have to find Hakon!’

Lief nodded reluctantly, clinging to Falla. Ivan was still the head of the army, and he could hardly go against him now. And, he realised, Mother was likely right. His panic was slowing as more and more confused warriors stumbled into the clearing. He knew he needed to keep them in one place now; he didn’t want to lose them before their lord returned.

Lief watched Ivan go, before pushing Falla away. ‘Go and find as many skins as you can. Jugs of water, ale, anything. Cups, bowls. We need water! Send the servants to the stream!’

Ivan heard him as he ran through the trees. Voices raised in panic rang out all around him, and he felt confused, disoriented, not sure if they were his men at all. Sword drawn, he swung around, surprised to see a red stag canter past him, nostrils flaring. Ivan tried to calm his breathing, to focus his mind; not on the smoke, which made him want to vomit, but on finding his cousin.

It would do their chances no good to lose their lord now.

Reinar had left the low wall, leaving Torvig in charge, wanting to see how things were going in the hall. When he got there, he was pleased with the

cheers, though he barely showed it, knowing that this was little more than a beginning.

Gerda ran up to him. ‘It’s Agnette! The baby is coming!’

Reinar’s mouth fell open, his eyes scanning the hall, seeing no sign of Bjarni. ‘That’s early.’ He couldn’t see Alys either.

‘Baby?’ Eddeth entered the hall behind him. ‘Oh, well that’s rather inconvenient!’

Gerda pointed her to the chambers at the back of the hall. ‘Hurry and see how she is. Her waters broke all over the floor. I’ve had to have someone clean it up.’

And frowning, Eddeth twitched all over, pushing her way through the hall, disappointed that she was going to be stuck delivering a child instead of helping the dreamer protect the fort.

‘How are things going?’ Gerda led her son over to the table where Stellan’s chair had been placed, wanting her husband to hear what Reinar had to say. Despite it being over a year since Stellan’s seizure, since everything had changed, she kept thinking he would come back. That he could hear what was happening. That somehow, he would be able to help his son. ‘Is it a success?’

‘So far, Mother.’ Reinar was impatient. He hadn’t meant to stay long, and now he’d need to find someone to help Bjarni with the hall. He was going to be distracted for sure. Memories flashed before his eyes of the horrific birth of his own sons, but he quickly shut them away, knowing he couldn’t afford to lose focus. ‘I’ll check on Agnette, then I have to get back to the wall.’ He was surprised when his father moved a hand towards him.

Gerda didn’t notice. Rilda had come out of the kitchen with problems.

Reinar put his hand over Stellan’s, staring into his eyes, watching his lips, but his father didn’t speak, and eventually, Reinar smiled, patting his hand and heading for the bedchambers.

Alys crashed into him as he rounded the corner. ‘Oh! I’m sorry!’ Stepping back, Reinar blinked at her. ‘How’s Agnette?’

‘Eddeth’s just arrived, so I don’t know, but she seems a little worried.

It’s not the best time, is it?’

Reinar peered at Alys, who stood beside a flaming sconce. ‘What are you wearing?’ She looked strange in the black cloak. It was too big for her, touching the floor.

‘I found it. I think it was your old dreamer’s.’

‘Really?’ Reinar had never seen Salma wear such a thing. ‘Where are you going now?’ She was standing so close, and the way the flames lit her hair reminded him of the first moment he’d seen her on board Sigurd’s ship. And he felt guilt for capturing her, and guilt for desiring her. And ignoring both, he leaned in and kissed her.

Alys froze in surprise, Reinar’s lips on hers, not kissing him back at all.

And noticing it, Reinar pulled away with a sad smile. ‘I’m sorry.’ He shook his head, turning down the corridor.

Alys’ mouth hung open, the feel of his bristly lips still on hers.

Closing it, she walked towards the hall, feeling her heart skipping wildly in her chest, trying to remember what she’d been about to do.

Hakon didn’t know what to do.

Voices taunted him: his father’s, Ivan’s, Mother’s.

They danced around him like little children, keeping him trapped where he was, not knowing which way to turn. He was in the forest, dressed in his armour, smoke in his mouth, smoke in his eyes. They stung and burned. As did his throat. He thought he heard a stream somewhere, Mother’s voice cackling like crows, but he couldn’t move. Shivering and shaking, he sank to the ground, pressing his back against a tree, bark against mail, boots scuffing the moss-covered roots as he dragged them closer to his body, wrapping his arms around his legs, head down.

Wanting to disappear.

Agnette didn’t appear in any distress at all, and after a quick chat with Bjarni, Reinar had left them to it, desperate to get back to the wall, eager to see what Hakon Vettel would come back with.

Agnette watched the door close, wanting to head out after her cousin. ‘I don’t want to be stuck in here when everything’s happening out there!’ she complained loudly, trying to get out of bed.

Bjarni pushed her down. ‘Do you want the baby to just drop out while you’re running around?’ He looked at Eddeth, wondering if that was

possible.

Eddeth looked nonplussed. ‘It’s Agnette’s choice what she does. If she wants to get to work, she should. I’m sure we can clear an area when it’s time.’

‘Good!’ Agnette declared, wriggling towards the edge of the bed. ‘Then I will. I’ve barely had a twinge since my waters broke.’ She groaned, a pain winding its way through her belly like burning fire. ‘Aarrghh!’

Bjarni smiled. ‘You were saying?’

‘I was saying,’ Agnette grumbled, taking a breath, ‘that you’re needed in the hall, so get on your way, Bjarni Sansgard. I’m going to keep busy till the time is near. And,’ she snapped, eyes on Eddeth, ‘it’s nowhere near yet!’ Eddeth nodded. ‘Near is when you can’t speak, but you seem just as chattery as usual, Agnette, so I’d say you have some time yet.’ And she quickly headed to the door as Bjarni helped Agnette to her feet. ‘I’ll only be

down the corridor if you need me.’

Bjarni looked worried, not wanting her to go. ‘Agnette,’ he pleaded, ‘I’ve a lot to take care of out there. I can’t be worrying about you too.’

‘No one’s asking you to! I’ve been able to take care of myself since I was a girl. And this child will make up its own mind about when it’s coming.’ She saw the fear in his eyes, and it softened her. ‘I’ll listen, I promise. I’ll get Eddeth when the time comes.’

Bjarni nodded, though he doubted it. He knew his wife better than anyone. Still, he helped her towards the door, trying to stop frowning. ‘I’ll be in the hall, listening out. One scream and I’ll carry you back in here!’

Agnette snorted, laughing as she waddled beside him. ‘I’d like to see you try!’

‘Hakon!’ Ivan dropped to the ground beside his cousin, who appeared asleep, hunched over before a tree, head resting on his knees. ‘Hakon!’

Hakon looked up at Ivan, terror in his eyes, his cousin’s voice clanging in his ears. ‘Where have you been? Where has everyone gone?’

Ivan’s head was less muddled that Hakon’s, and he quickly helped him to his feet, dragging one of his cousin’s arms around his shoulder, feeling

him go limp. ‘Let’s get you back to your tent. We’ll wait for the smoke to clear, then we’ll start again.’

Hakon stumbled beside him, muttering to himself, visions of Mother tormenting him.

Mother and her triumphant smile.

Emerging from the tent again, Mother was almost delirious with pleasure, though seeing the scowl in Falla’s eyes as she organised water and ale for the men, she tried to look more concerned, less gleeful. It would hardly help her cause to be seen crowing over their humiliation.

The smoke did not bother her as she walked around the camp, eyes scouring the hunched over, coughing men. Some were bleeding, injured, others in a panic, going slightly mad with the smoking herbs. Mother recognised the familiar aromas of salvia and jimsonweed. She doubted Reinar Vilander’s dreamer had thought of that. That woman appeared far too inexperienced to know anything about herbs; about how to terrorise and seduce; to befuddle weak minds. And they were all weak, Mother knew, glancing around, eyes seeking the weakest one of all.

And there he was, with the useless layabout that was Ivan Vettel.

Blinking even a hint of happiness from her eyes, Mother hurried forward. ‘My lord! Hakon!’ She coated her voice with something resembling sympathy; a motherly touch, she hoped; a balm for his frantic state.

Hakon rushed to her in desperation. ‘Mother!’ And reaching her, he almost collapsed into her arms, eyes bulging with madness.

Mother frowned. ‘Help me take him to my tent. A tonic! I’m sure I have a tonic to help him. The smoke has affected him badly. I suspect Reinar Vilander’s dreamer has been playing with you all. Twisting your minds with her spells! She appears far more dangerous than I realised. Far more dangerous indeed!’

Ivan limped along, Hakon’s weight leaning on him, grateful when Lief caught up with them, holding up Hakon’s other side.

‘What’s happened to him?’ Lief wondered, anxiety rippling through his own mind. His confusion had receded now, only to be replaced by shifting

waves of panic and fear. He felt unsettled, as though they were about to be attacked, yet unable to form a plan of what to do about it.

‘The smoke!’ Mother declared. ‘It was poisoned with powerful herbs!

Designed to make you forget yourselves. A dreamer’s weapon!’

‘You must help us, Mother,’ Hakon almost whimpered, staggering into her tent. ‘Protect us from this dreamer. How can we take the fort with all that smoke?’ His head felt almost clear for a moment, the screeching voices receding slightly. The darkness of Mother’s tent helped; the soothing sound of her fire.

He started shaking, realising how cold it was.

‘Of course, of course I will,’ Mother murmured. ‘Sit him there, in front of the flames. He’s shivering!’ She poked a gnarled finger at Ivan. ‘Find your cousin some wine. Something strong. And you,’ she growled at Lief. ‘You will retrieve Falla and the girl. I need them to assist me.’

Falla had gone to the stream to fill the empty water skins, eager to escape the smoke and noise of the campsite. The camp was full of panicked, injured, and burned men, all needing help, and she had quickly grown irritated with the role of healer. She wasn’t skilled in the art, nor did she have any desire to assist anyone, so she welcomed the chance to get away, savoring the cool water on her face.

Kneeling by the stream, she leaned forward, splashing the icy water over her cheeks, down her neck, and into her cleavage. The coldness jolted her awake, clearing her mind. As she stood, wiping her hands on her lilac-colored dress, she bent down to pick up the full skins. Suddenly, the sound of snapping twigs and the snorting of horses caught her attention.

Across the stream, on the opposite bank, she glimpsed a flash of blonde hair as two horses moved deeper into the forest.

For a moment, Falla just stood there, watching. Then, she dropped the water skins and turned away to vomit.

Lotta, hearing the noise, spun around and saw Falla crouching. She considered calling out, begging for help, but the memory of Mother’s menacing look when she’d cut her hair stopped her. Lotta realized that the dreamer intended to kill her. She had glimpsed into Falla’s soul and seen nothing but darkness and evil. Although she dreaded being Ulrick’s prisoner again, she knew she had to escape.

Ulrick knew they had to flee as well, but he refused to leave Lotta’s pony behind. He didn’t want to make her unhappy. “That old witch will be tearing the forest apart looking for you soon. We need to move quickly.”

Lotta, sitting in front of him, nodded as the horse quickened its pace. She hoped Clover could keep up, tears streaming down her cold cheeks as she realized she was leaving her mother behind.

Eddeth grabbed Alys’ arm. ‘You’re not listening, dreamer!’

Alys almost bit her tongue. She was remembering giving birth to her daughter. Lotta had been late, well overdue, showing no sign of coming at all. But when she finally came… Alys smiled sadly, reminded of how all joy of that moment had been erased by Arnon’s fury that she had given him a daughter.

‘We need to be ready. Up on the wall.’

‘What?’ Alys blinked, back in the chamber. ‘Why the wall?’

‘To see. Far and wide! To smell. To taste the wind!’ Eddeth grinned, shuffling to her basket. ‘Those herbs of mine will have tangled Hakon Vettel’s army in knots. It will take them a while to get back to themselves. A while longer to think of a way forward. I know how it goes!’ She chuckled, handing Alys a tiny packet.

‘What’s this?’ ‘Flying powder.’

‘I…’ Alys didn’t know what to say. She almost didn’t want to ask. ‘Hurry, hurry!’ Eddeth implored. ‘I’ll explain on the way to the wall!’

They left their chamber, emerging into the noisy hall which appeared much fuller as those men and women on the walls and in the square came inside to take a break, get some food, find something to drink.

Alys saw Stina. ‘Are you alright?’

Stina nodded. She was numb inside and out, but it had been good to feel useful, to keep herself busy. Ludo stood behind her like a faithful dog, and turning to him, she almost smiled.

‘She’s been working hard. They all have.’ Ludo was pleased, though anxious. They did not have an unending supply of boulders. And flinging a dead carcass or two would hardly do much damage to an army on the attack. ‘We’ve come to find what else we might launch at Hakon’s men.’

‘Pitch,’ Eddeth said, one hand on Alys’ elbow, wanting to move her along. ‘Fill a jug or a jar with pitch. They won’t like being covered in that.’

Ludo agreed. They had buckets of pitch on the low wall, but it would be smart to use the catapults to drown Hakon’s army in as much of the liquid as possible. ‘Good idea,’ he smiled, heading for the doors.

Alys watched Ludo and Stina go, yelping as Eddeth pinched her arm. ‘We have too much to occupy that mind of yours with already, don’t

you think? Not worrying about everything right now would help, hmmm?’ And with a firm nudge, she moved Alys in the direction of the doors.

Lief had found his wife sitting in the forest by the stream, head between her knees, trying to stop the waves of nausea that would not recede. He had helped her to stand, convinced her to sip a little water, and together they’d walked back to their camp.

To where Mother emerged from her tent, glowering at them. ‘All day I’ve been waiting! All day!’

Lief’s head still felt thick with smoke, but he knew that wasn’t true. ‘Falla was ill.’

Mother glared at her, not caring, though she could see the ghostly pallor of her face in the smoky gloom. She glanced around. ‘And the girl? Where is she?’

Guilt flushed Falla’s face a bright pink, and she leaned on Lief, slumping slightly. ‘I don’t know.’ That was true enough.

Mother couldn’t read any lies in Falla’s eyes, though they darted about in fear. ‘Is that so?’

‘I couldn’t watch her all the time!’ Falla insisted crossly. ‘I was ill.

Vomiting.’

‘Well…’ Mother’s lips pursed and twisted into all sorts of shapes while she considered things. ‘You did your best, I’m sure.’

Falla looked up, surprised, watching as Mother simply turned and walked away.

‘Well, come along, Falla dear!’ she called over her shoulder. ‘For I am going to need your help to get our afflicted lord back on his feet again. We can’t let those Vilanders think it’s all over, can we? Oh no, I can assure you, this battle is only just beginning!’