Fire and Lies Read online

  “And then what?” Bergen searched the pensive thoughts behind Rune’s eyes.

  “I hope to find the confirmation I’m looking for.”

  “And if the men ask?”

  “Tell them,” Rune said, “that as of right now, we are negotiating terms for peace.”

  “Are you?”

  The ropes slapped the wooden masts, drowning out what little incoherent garble they could out make from the ships.

  “One can hope,” Rune said, allowing Bergen a moment to digest the events.

  “I will keep Kallan in check,” Rune said. “Let me handle Kallan. You handle your men.”

  Nodding, Bergen lowered his eyes in thought, giving him a moment to ponder a suspicion.

  “Can I still kill her?” he asked after a moment.

  Panic flashed then vanished from Rune’s face, jabbing Bergen’s curiosity.

  “I thought so,” Bergen muttered. With a nod, he trudged off to the ships and left Rune to his chores.

  The last barrels were loaded and the gangplanks pulled from land as Rune dumped the last of the hides onto the deck. Finding Kallan bustling about at the stern side wale where she formed a comfortable seat for herself, Rune fixed his gaze on her with unyielding resolve. With long strides, he marched to the stern and, taking her by the arm, forced her up from her task, pulling her into his face.

  “What in the name of the All Father are you trying to do?” he said, keeping his voice low.

  Kallan jerked, attempting to free her arm.

  “Trying to regain the honor you stripped from me with your petty coddling,” she said.

  “Kallan—”

  “Why did you make me your vassal?” she asked with a nip in her tone.

  “Because,” Rune said beneath his breath. “Between you and my men, they’re the ones who will follow orders. It was the least I could do to ensure civility on my ships. Now, shut up, sit down, and behave.”

  Rune released as Kallan jerked away this time. With all the frustration he could muster, he began shoving around a collection of hides on the deck. After placing a series of vehement kicks into the furs, Rune dropped himself onto the deck beside the trestle.

  He sat for barely a moment before standing again and stomping off to the ship’s bow where he busied himself with the sail. Every movement was backed with constant frustration. Every pull of the rope, every turn emanated from that bottled frustration he barely kept in check.

  Pushing an angry hand through her hair, Kallan watched Rune from across the boat. After a moment, she dropped to her knees and continued shuffling her blankets.

  The heavy fall of Bergen’s boots forced her attention up and her face flushed red.

  Hauling a bundle of swords wrapped in fish netting, Bergen clomped his way to the stern. His shirt was still missing and he had freed his long, black hair that hung to his waist. She sneered as he dumped the bundle of swords in front of the side oar bench and wasted no time adjusting the tiller for the day’s sail.

  “Do you have an aversion to clothes?” Kallan asked. Standing upright, Bergen straightened his back, staring down at her with a grin that pulled at his mouth.

  “Do you have an aversion to this?” Bergen gave a wave of his hand, implying his shoulders, chest, and torso.

  Kallan frowned.

  “Only when it isn’t worth my dowry.”

  Bergen dropped his foot to the deck and Kallan leapt to her feet. Inhaling, Kallan threw back her head and Bergen scraped his eyes over her, down then up, puffing out his chest as he mirrored her challenge. He locked eyes with Kallan, ending his assement. Kallan’s hands had barely twitched when Rune jumped in beside them.

  “Something wrong?” he asked, glancing from one to the other.

  Kallan and Bergen inhaled sharply, still staring each other down.

  “No,” Bergen said as Kallan said, “Nothing.” They simultaneously returned to their seats. Shifting an eye, Rune studied the two adversaries before settling himself down beside the trestle.

  Keeping his head down, Rune busied himself with a fish net he decided needed mending, and piled on the ropes beside him as he began tying in a manner to ease his pentup tension.

  The Ljosalfar raised the gangplanks and pushed the ships off from the shoals. The rowers pulled the oars through the river’s black and gray waters to the tune of the deep Nordic call Ottar sounded off. Within minutes of setting off, they raised the yardarms and caught the winds, allowing the oarmen to pull in their oars and rest.

  The day wore on as the ships cut their path through the wide waters of the Raumelfr. Before midday, the mouth of the river opened and pushed them out to sea. The strong sea winds instantly greeted them, pulling them out to the open blue waters. Their speed doubled and, with well-rehearsed timing, the rowers and side oarsmen steered the ships into the waters of the Kattegat.

  The tall cliffs at the edge of Alfheim stretched high into mountain peaks with sudden drops that plunged into the depths of the sea. On one side, wall after wall of mountain faces greeted them, each with their own spectacle to behold. On the other, open sea stretched and vanished into the sky’s horizon.

  The ships synchronized their positions and the rowers settled as they dropped down onto the deck where they proceeded to drink or sleep immersed in boredom.

  With a sigh, Kallan dropped her head back to the wale and raised her eyes to the drab skies. A low fog soon settled, blocking the sun from view and turning the bright clear blues of the ocean to a black gray that matched the fog. Lolling her head from side to side, Kallan looked on ahead as she followed the sheer cliffs rising sharply from the sea to the sky, emerging deep within the clouds.

  Kallan closed her eyes against the scent of sea, allowing her mind to pull her into endless memories that looped around each other. The anger she hoarded ebbed and, for the first time since being aboard Gunir’s ships, she felt herself relax, if only slightly.

  “It’s been a while, has it?” Rune asked, pulling Kallan from her daydreams. Kallan turned to Rune, his hands still busy with the net.

  “It’s the air,” she said, forgetting her venom. “It does so well to drive the very stench of Midgard from the memory.”

  Rune dropped the net he was tying and sat still, listening as Kallan reminisced, falling further into her thoughts.

  “I can almost hear Daggon’s lessons again… Gudrun’s nagging,” she muttered too low for any other but Rune to hear. “Worry has a way of leaving you out here on the sea.”

  “You miss them,” Rune said.

  “Of course I miss them.” All at once, her venom had returned.

  Rune returned to tying his net.

  The straight shot went on for miles until the whites and grays of the fog obscured Kallan’s view. With a huff, she closed her eyes and listened to the water and wind beat the side of the ship, allowing her mind to wander with ease. Moments later, her eyes flew open and turned to Rune.

  “How is it you crossed the Raumelfr without the ships?” she asked, eager to keep his attention for herself.

  “What?” Rune asked, putting the net back down.

  “Bergen said there is no way to cross the Raumelfr without ships,” Kallan said. “But you did.”

  At the mention of his name, Bergen straightened up, his hand still on the side oar.

  “How did you do it?” Kallan asked.

  Bergen looked to Rune.

  “Yeah,” Bergen said. “How did you cross the Raumelfr into Midgard without a ship?”

  Rune dropped his eyes back to his net.

  “I followed the Dvergar caves and tunnels burrowed beneath the river,” Rune said indifferently.

  “There are Dvergar tunnels burrowed beneath the Raumelfr?” Bergen asked darkly. Tension stiffened his back as if he had reached for his sword and lunged at Kallan. Instead, he sat there, almost too stunned to move.

  “Why…” Kallan said.

  Rune raised his eyes from his net.

  A shadow had befallen Kallan. As her hand
s shook with forced control, she balled her hands into fists and held herself back from breaking Rune’s neck.

  “Why…in the name of Odinn would you not tell me?” Kallan looked at Rune. “Why would you lead me north to Nidaros instead of south to Viken when there was a way? Under the Raumelfr and through the tunnels to Alfheim? Hidden within the shadows, we stood a chance against them!”

  “I only know the one entrance from Alfheim,” Rune said paying no mind to her rising tantrum. “They knew I had used those tunnels…and if they didn’t, they would come to learn it sooner than later. The Dvergar would look for us there. We could not go back the way I came.”

  “Jotunheim,” Bergen said. “You journeyed all the way to Jotunheim?”

  “Yes,” Rune said. “Then north to Nidaros—”

  “Yes, north,” Kallan grumbled. “All the way to Nidaros.”

  “I had hoped to obtain use of a boat there,” Rune explained. “But a usurped king, who claims these lands, seized their ships. We were forced to go back down through Heidmork to the Raumelfr.”

  “I was born in the mines of Svartalfaheim,” Kallan said through tightened jaw. “I know their secrets as well as those who carved them. Had I known they were there, we—”

  A gasp swallowed Kallan’s voice. Stifling back a sob, her eyes widened and her jaw fell. A cold pierced every bit of her body. The sight was unmistakable.

  High above the sea’s surface, protruding above the ocean’s water, the white stones of Lorlenalin emerged from the clouds.

  The floorboards scraped her palms as she scrambled to her feet. Weakened from her prolonged dejection, Kallan stumbled. A gasp caught in her chest, and the back of her throat burned with the tears that swelled in her eyes.

  With the last of her strength, she straightened her back, found her breath, and opened her mouth to cry out—to Daggon, to Gudrun, to Aaric, to Eilif, to the children, it didn’t matter. Before she could release a sound, Rune’s hand clamped over her mouth, tightly digging his fingers into her cheeks, holding her in silent anguish.

  A desolate ache screamed through her body as Rune held her with his arms. At once, the desperation she harbored consumed her. His grip tightened, forcing her arms at her sides, and Kallan screamed into the palm that muffled her sobs.

  Tears flowed freely as she looked at her city standing as tall and as high as ever over the Northern Seas. Again, she screamed under Rune’s hand, fighting to break free as the rush of tears fell.

  Kallan gasped and breathed deep. Still the ship sailed on, past the walls of her beloved city. Her body buckled beneath her agony, too weak to fight against Rune who held her up from the floor. Kallan screamed into his hand and paused between sobs. She screamed and her body convulsed for breath.

  The grand white walls of Lorlenalin faded into the distance. Pinned to Rune, Kallan continued to scream. Desperate to reach the children, desperate to reach Daggon or Gudrun, she fought against him, clawing at his hands and digging at his arms. Under Kallan’s claws, Rune’s blood ran free as the last of the sparkling stones faded into the fog, and Kallan’s desperation fed her Seidr.

  Mustering all she had from her core, Kallan clamped her hands down on Rune’s arms and fired her Seidr all before his Shadow Beast could rise up. Her Seidr penetrated his arm. Exclaiming, he released her. As the Ljosalfar rose up in arms and charged, Kallan dove, head first, for the ship’s aft, back toward her city lost in the haze, and right into Bergen.

  “Stand down!” Rune shouted, and the men stopped at the order while Kallan fought against Bergen, whose arms were wrapped around her. Kallan thrashed as she screamed.

  “Daggon!”

  “Bergen! Release her!” Rune shouted over Kallan’s screams.

  Bergen obeyed and Kallan sprinted toward the aft.

  “Kallan!” Rune called, catching her arm before she leapt over board. At once, Kallan turned with her Seidr, and Rune’s hand went up, catching the stream of fire she unleashed.

  The Beast rose up and met the Seidr, devouring it, and Kallan drew deeper. Beyond her core, she threw all her powers into Rune and the Beast. Withstanding the Seidr, Rune released Kallan’s arm and raised both hands. Drawing in her Seidr, he directed the fire, welcoming it into his palms and to the Beast, keeping all others unharmed.

  Relentlessly, Kallan fed the roraing Beast. Kallan’s energy grew and Rune weakened, fighting back the insurmountable push from Kallan’s core. Rune’s arms burned as the Seidr ripped through him into the Beast that drank. The Shadow rose up, feasting, and followed the path of Kallan’s Seidr.

  Rune felt it move from somewhere deep within, into his chest until he was certain The Beast would break free. Just as Rune felt the Shadow begin to leave him along with the power to withstand the Seidkona, Kallan broke the Seidr and dropped her arms at her side, exhausted.

  The Shadow Beast settled and went back to sleep.

  The sound of the water against the strakes carried over the Kattegat. Dried tears stained Kallan’s face as she and Rune heaved for breath. The crew stared on too stunned to speak.

  Pale, and frozen in place, Bergen gazed at his brother. Uncertainty silenced his sharp tongue.

  “Please,” Kallan whispered. The Seidkona, broken and beaten, stood before them as a fallen queen.

  “Please,” she repeated. A fresh waved of tears fell. “Let me go.”

  Rune’s men looked on in silence. Her plea broke her fortitude and, trembling, Kallan dropped to her knees, releasing her weapon as she fell.

  Rune fell with her and pulled her into him, guiding Kallan’s head to his shoulder. Kallan wept.

  Waves pummeled the ships that whined and creaked with the wind as they cut their way through the water along the shore. For hours Rune sat, his gaze fixed on Kallan, who stared, distant and dazed at the ship’s fore stern.

  At the aft, Bergen brooded, staring at Rune and refusing to take his eyes from his brother.

  “You can relax, Bergen,” Rune said at last, not bothering to look up from his nap.

  “Like Hel I can,” he said.

  The tension on board the ship was thick. Although the catcalls and jeering had stopped, a dread replaced the joy of taking the Dokkalfar Queen onboard.

  “What has she done to you?” Bergen asked.

  “She didn’t,” Rune said and finally raised his face to his brother. “Borg did.”

  Something akin to shock, disbelief, and confusion muddled Bergen’s face. “The spy?”

  Rune closed his eyes and dropped his head back down to rest.

  Bergen passed the tiller to Ottar and shuffled himself down beside Rune against the aft trestle.

  “Rune, I’ve met Borg. I’m one of the two who have. Borg is just a lowlife. He’s the lowest rank in the queen’s army. Not even the queen’s army. A nidingr once the wench gets hold of him. He has no such power.”

  “He does,” Rune said and looked at Bergen. “And he did.”

  Bergen sat back, still in disbelief.

  “Now you see why we can’t kill her? Why she can’t go home? If anyone can get this thing out of me, a Seidkona can.”

  “Has she agreed?”

  “As of yet, Kallan claims to have no knowledge of the Beast. And I believe her,” Rune added as Bergen opened his mouth to protest.

  “What are you going to do with her?” Bergen asked with a nod toward Kallan, who hugged herself at the fore.

  “With her?” Rune asked, unmoved by the lackadaisical indifference in which Bergen spoke of her.

  “We’re closer to Lorlenalin than we are to Gunir,” Bergen said. “I don’t doubt the Dokkalfar are out looking for her.”

  “Are they?” Rune asked, peering over his shoulder.

  The water lapped the ship’s strakes as Bergen studied Rune’s composure.

  “Why wouldn’t they be?” Bergen asked, not expecting an answer. Rune didn’t disappoint. Bergen felt the ship ease along its course as Ottar gently pulled back on the side oar. “She’ll run the moment we touch down on lan
d.”

  Rune held his eyes on Kallan.” She won’t run,” he said.

  “She won’t stay,” Bergen said, shaking his head.

  Rune looked back to Bergen. “She won’t run.”

  Curious, Bergen watched Rune then shifted his gaze to the Dokkalfr, who still stared rigidly out past the ship’s stern. Bergen looked to the cliffs of Alfheim’s shores that followed along the portside as he contemplated the harbored look in his brother’s eye masking the words Rune had not yet spoken.

  “Torunn isn’t going to like this,” Bergen said, and Rune smirked.

  The ships pushed along the shores, leading them to a series of outlets that drained into the sea from Alfheim’s mainland. Wide, rushing paths of water opened, inviting them upstream. Every time, Bergen passed over each. The current picked up, forcing him to pull against the waves that pushed the ship further out to sea.

  “We’ve long since entered the Kattegat,” Rune said softly as he joined Kallan at the fore stern.

  “The cat’s gate,” he translated. “The sea runs shallow here. During the midsummer months, there are places where the water dries out completely. If we’re not watching, we’ll run aground. At low tide, we could end up stranded until high tide returns.”

  He glanced at Kallan, who stared unmoving, unchanged beside him.

  “That’s why it’s so dangerous to sailors,” Rune continued, unable to decipher the blanketed stare fixed on the sea ahead. “It looks no different than any other sea. One summer, Bergen and I sailed through here with fewer supplies than a week’s delay allowed. Geirolf wouldn’t let us live it down for years. We came back later just to map out the safest passage.”

  Her silence encouraged him to end his monologue, but he stayed beside her, nevertheless, as the ships sailed on.

  With carefully laid direction, Bergen guided the ship through the narrow waters hidden between shallow shoals and cays, until they came to a wide delta where countless strips of bare rock and islets surrounded them on either side.

  The current pushed against them, forcing them to lower sail and use the combined strength of the oars and tiller to guide their ships safely through the delta. Their work was relentless and they rowed without pause as the sea vanished slowly behind them, leaving behind the Kattegat.