Night Bells

  * * *

  The company in the kitchen roared in laughter as Soryn walked through the door, a slight frown on his face. Valkyrie noticed, though she said nothing. Arna looked up at Lord Maslyn and smiled.

  “Come sit, Soryn.” Arna patted the seat next to her.

  He acquiesced and sat without saying anything. Soryn felt guilty for being so pensive, but he was worried about Stigg and worried about the entire situation with their apparent rivalry for Arna’s love. A half smile came to his lips, for her sake, and he looked at her with as much happiness as he could manage. He was happy that they were together, but he had come to care much more for Stigg than he had previously thought. It was as though he was betraying a brother. Soryn supposed Stigg was far more of a brother to him than Olan or Fenris had ever been.

  “Father Kimbli was telling me how much you’ve done to improve the economy in the village,” Arna encouraged.

  Soryn shot Kimbli an irritated glance. The priest lifted his hands in surrender.

  “Soryn, you’re far too modest about your accomplishments,” the old man admonished.

  Lord Maslyn rolled his eyes.

  Everyone laughed at that.

  “You’ve changed, Bialas. You’re very business-like, now,” Arna observed with some amusement.

  “He’s become a very shrewd leader, indeed. Governor Frey has had to back down at Soryn’s desk many a time. The boy is just as great as his father before him. Perhaps greater,” Kimbli beamed.

  Soryn cleared his throat, a slight blush rising to his cheeks. He desperately wanted the conversation to turn away from himself.

  “Is Stigg up yet?” Valkyrie asked, sensing the young man’s discomfort.

  “No, he’s still feeling ill, I think.”

  “Odd,” Father Kimbli opined.

  “He must have caught something rather nasty,” Fanndis blurted out. It was not entirely untrue, she assessed.

  “Hopefully he’ll return to good health soon,” the priest said, concerned.

  An awkward silence followed. They were rescued from it when Derik scratched at the door, whining to get in. Valkyrie let the now-grown wolf into the kitchen. Fanndis felt it was a good thing Ulf’s wolves were such clean creatures. Otherwise, she would have bristled at the presence of so many animals in her kitchen throughout each week. Derik had aged into a large, intimidating beast. He had the dark fur of Nora and some patches of white like his father Ulf. Wholly magnificent to gaze upon, Arna gasped—not realizing it was the same pup she had held and cooed over so long ago.

  Hello, Arna, Derik greeted.

  “Hello there,” Arna said, still failing to make the connection with the past.

  You don’t remember me, do you? He chuckled.

  “Well, no, not really,” she admitted.

  It’s me, Derik. Ulf’s pup.

  “Derik! You’ve grown up!” Arna exclaimed.

  Yeah, I suppose. Still not as tall as my old man, though. I’ve got a ways to go before I’m as formidable as he is, Derik mused.

  “I think you’re entirely as formidable as your father,” Valkyrie encouraged, knowing the adolescent wolf was fishing for complements.

  You’re very kind, Valkyrie.

  “I know.” Valkyrie’s mouth spread into a sly grin.

  “Are you here to visit or is there some business you need to attend to?” Fanndis remarked.

  Originally, just a friendly visit was intended, but my father brings news—not so good I think, Derik admitted.

  “Is anything wrong?” Valkyrie asked.

  Well, we’re not entirely sure. There have been very strange things going on in the woods lately, not the least of which is Arna’s apparition in the springs.

  Soryn was disturbed. The rough hair covering Derik’s spine stood up and he seemed on edge. The wolf kept picking up his front two paws and placing them back on the ground, over and over—as though he were doing the wolf version of human pacing.

  “What’s wrong, Derik?” Soryn demanded.

  It’s just that we’ve noticed someone has been trying to get into the greenhouse. We can smell him, but he’s smart, whoever he is, and we’ve been unable to catch him in the act. He knows when we change the guard and seems to try and tamper with the greenhouse when we’re not watching—though it’s only for a few minutes at a time. As far as we can tell, he has been unsuccessful in his attempts to get in.

  “Fenris?” Soryn lifted an eyebrow.

  Perhaps, though Ulf thinks not. He says the man’s scent is nothing like Fenris’.

  “Who would be trying to get into our greenhouse?” Valkyrie wondered aloud.

  “Perhaps a villager in need of a specific herb?” Kimbli offered.

  “Why would they not just ask? We have no reason to refuse help to anyone in the village,” Fanndis retorted.

  “Perhaps they are too ashamed or poor to compensate you,” Soryn suggested.

  “That’s never kept us from helping those that need it,” Valkyrie countered.

  Hmmm. Derik was still pacing in his odd wolf-like way.

  “I’ll go check it out, since Stigg’s still feeling sick,” Soryn offered, heading towards the main room to retrieve one of the rifles they kept in the chest.

  “Wait! What if they’re dangerous?!” Arna protested.

  “Stigg has trained me well in tracking and moving silently through the forest, Arna. I’ll be just fine,” Lord Maslyn assured her, feeling a little abashed that she did not have more faith in his abilities. Then again, she most likely found it hard to believe that he was a grown man now.

  “He’ll be alright,” Fanndis promised.

  “Be careful, Soryn,” Valkyrie cautioned.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  Everyone in the kitchen turned to look towards the main room. Stigg stood in the doorway, his skin as pale as the moons, dark shadows beneath his eyes. His clothing looked as though it had been hastily thrown on. In his hand was the second rifle. Soryn lifted an eyebrow. Stigg nodded towards him.

  “Stigg, are you sure you’re in any condition to be traipsing around the woods?” Fanndis pursed her lips and crossed her arms.

  “I’m fine. Let’s go Soryn,” Stigg said with finality. He avoided Arna’s gaze as he stormed out of the back door into the snowy yard beyond.

  Soryn shrugged. “I’ll look after him, Fanndis. Don’t worry.”

  “I would appreciate it. He’s not himself today.” Stigg’s mother sighed.

  With that, Lord Maslyn smiled at Arna, squeezed her hand, and then followed Stigg into the woods. The nights were growing frigid with promises of oncoming winter snows. They were only a few days off at the most. The summer had flown by, just like all other summers on Niflheim. Soryn mourned the loss of the warmer weather, but he was glad the snow would be coming. It was far easier to track in the snows. Stigg, he knew, hated summer and would be glad as well.

  Stigg was well ahead of him, but Soryn followed his path with ease. The younger man knew that Stigg had not even tried to conceal his tracks. Lord Maslyn suspected that this suspicious business would have something to do with Fenris in the end. Stigg had gotten rather worked up about that prospect. So had Soryn. Up ahead, Stigg gave one of their signals—an owl’s call—and Soryn crouched until he caught up with the man.

  “See anything?” Soryn whispered only loud enough for Stigg to hear.

  “I’m not sure. Take a look,” Stigg replied, his voice low.

  Soryn peered up ahead through the briars they were hidden behind. They were still a ways from the greenhouse, but both men could see the angled roof and the rock face behind it. For several moments, Soryn saw nothing, but then, he understood what Stigg had mentioned. On the greenhouse roof, there was a glinting light that seemed to be going in and out like it was a signal of some sort. He peered harder. He had better eyes than Stigg and he kept staring until they hurt. There.

  “A piece of the roof is loose. It’s flapping in the wi
nd and the light we’re seeing is coming from one of the anchored sun spires inside, I would imagine,” Soryn said.

  “Well, we better go investigate and make sure it’s not the work of that prowler.”

  “Mm.” Soryn followed as Stigg made his way to the greenhouse without a sound.

  Ulf sat on a higher embankment above the roof and stared at the loose panel in puzzlement, his tail undulating behind him.

  Hello, gentlemen, Ulf greeted.

  “Do you know what’s going on?” Stigg asked.

  No. I’ve been watching all day and the roof panel came loose on its own with the wind. It wasn’t the work of whoever has been trying our patience—unless they loosened the panel during our watch change in the hopes it would come loose later. This entire situation is baffling for my pack and me—especially considering we are master hunters.

  “You stay here. We’ll skirt around back and see what we can,” Stigg said.

  No need. I’ve got several of my best already staking out each side of the greenhouse and the corners from strategic positions in the woods, Ulf informed them.

  “So we wait?” Soryn arched an eyebrow.

  We wait. He’s tried every night for the last few nights, so if history can tell us anything, he’ll try again, Ulf replied.

  Stigg and Soryn coiled around the perimeter of the greenhouse and settled near another of Ulf’s pack members so that they could see the front door of the building. They all sat, waiting for nearly two hours, but nobody wanted to leave in case they missed something crucially important. Soryn thought, several times, that he heard some telltale sign of human movement through the woods, but each time it was a rabbit or a squirrel. He figured he was getting anxious waiting for someone who could be connected to his traitorous brother.

  Finally, there was movement in the trees. The wolves crouched low, ready to spring. Through a break in the tree line came a cloaked figure—walking with purpose towards the greenhouse. Soryn and Stigg allowed the wolves to move into action and watched as five or six of them pounced on the stranger, pinning him to the forest floor. Only then did Stigg and Soryn move from their position to inspect the man lying before them.

  It wasn’t Fenris. It was an older man from the village that Soryn had seen once or twice in the market. He was shivering and looked scared out of his wits.

  “What are you doing here?” Stigg growled.

  “I-I-I…please don’t hurt me! I was just doing what he told me to do!” the man stuttered, shielding his face with his forearms from the wolves that surrounded him.

  “What who told you to do?” Stigg asked, already knowing the answer.

  “He never told me his name. H-He told me to come and tamper with the greenhouse for a couple of nights. He told me where it would be and showed me how to get here without being noticed, that’s it, I swear! He told me he’d hurt my family if I didn’t do it! Please! Please don’t let the wolves eat me! I never wanted to hurt anybody!”

  Soryn’s spine froze when he realized that the old man before them was just a decoy. He sprang before Stigg could question the wretched diversion further. Soryn felt like a fool for being taken in by such a trick. He prayed and hoped that he would make it back to the cottage in time. Stigg followed behind Soryn, leaving the man shuddering and sobbing in the snow. Ulf’s wolves would look after him. Stigg’s heart beat frantically in his chest; he knew what awaited them at the cottage. Fenris had fooled them and was most likely at the house wreaking havoc. Neither Stigg nor Soryn wanted to think of what the traitor’s intentions were.

  Chests heaving and legs cramping, Stigg and Soryn came within view of the cottage. All looked just as it should. The windows were bright with firelight and smoke puffed out of the chimneys. Yet, both men felt ice settle into the pits of their stomachs as they took in the sight, knowing that nothing good awaited them inside.

  “Let’s go,” Soryn announced.

  He took the rifle in one hand and kicked open the door.