CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SEVENTH
Helg looked up from her knitting, and screwed up her liver-spotted face. "Did you hear something?"
Lilia glanced up. "No."
Easing to her feet, Helg took hold of a walking stick and shuffled to the door. Opening the latch, she gave a startled cry and fell back, almost tumbling on her rear. Something large and black swept into the room, flapping about madly.
Lilia waved her arms over her head, and crouched down. Patting a hand across the floor, she found a rolling pin that had fallen from the table, and leaping to her feet, hefted it at the intruder. It dodged the missile, before alighting on the rafter, out of reach.
"Where is Kveldulf, where is the wolf-be-man?"
"Snoro's crow," said Lilia.
"Crow? Crow! Call me a crow? I am a raven. No crow was ever this grand and glossy." He stretched his wings as if to illustrate the point. "No crow ever wore so many fine feathers, no crow crunched so many bones of men, as I."
"Bones of men?" Helg sounded more impatient than angry. She'd shut the door and was now lowering herself gently into a seat, while guardedly watching the heap of black feathers perched on the timber. The two bright eyes lit up and shone with greedy vigour.
"Oh it was like the grand old days of warring. Blood, salty-sweat blood. And carnage, and flesh, and enough gore to feed a nest brimming with chicks," he threw his head back and began, much to Lilia's shock, to sing. "There were three ravens in a tree, ha-raefn, ha-roc, ma-crawe; There were three ravens in a tree, ha-raefn, ha-roc, ma-crawe; There were three ravens in a tree; And they were black, as black could be; And they all flapped their wings, and cried, Ha-raefn, ha-roc, ma-crawe,"
Stunned silence.
The raven beat his wings again, ruffled his feathers out, and croaked a few more bars. Lilia was about to raise her voice to say something, anything, when he broke into more of the hissing verses, louder and more insistent. He sang until he ran out of song, then repeated that last line, "Ha-raefn, ha-roc, ma-crawe," over and over, quieter by degrees.
"You've missed him. He's out." It was Helg, slicing through the raven's voice. "Kveldulf, that is. And what nonsense is this of slaughter? Have you been into a pot of some farmer's ale?"
"No, no, good lady fair."
"Good lady, fair? Now I know you've been into ale. Or something stronger."
"No, I swear it, and plague me with nest-ticks if I'm lying. Kveldulf told me to come to you. Come here, should I have whim to share a stale, warm house, and talk of sweet nothings with friends and buffoons. And so I have."
"But the slaughter?" said Lilia.
"Ah," said Gnissa, "the slaughter," and his voice slid lower. "It was beautiful, blood ran red in rivers, tasty morsels piled heap, upon heap. If I had lips I'd lick "em."
Lilia knotted her brow. "It sounds more ghastly than beautiful."
"Ghastly for you, as a banquet is ghastly for the pig. But I am a raven, and a raven is what I am. No raven anywhere, ever gave up a good meal of meat. And what a meal it was."
"The battle," said Lilia, with a small note of worry. "Who fought?"
"It were the wights of the woods, the weird ilk of Alraun, come out of the wild to seize the mortal throne." He hoped excitedly from one rafter to the next, and danced on it. "But they were met. By men with flashing swords of iron. And what a battle. What carnage. What a feast." He wobbled a little. "I confess I did eat a little morsel of faer flesh before it evaporated away. I do feel a little light-headed."
"Has the Veld... the Toren Vaunt?" Lilia touched her throat, "are they fallen?"
"No. Your folk have a sorceress-queen upon the throne now it seems, and her magics are strong. As strong as Alrauns. Maybe stronger." He narrowed his eyes in thought for a moment. "As strong as Snoro, I think."
Lilia let her shoulders relax. A frown of thought lined her brow. "So Alraun's ilk have been scattered?"
"No, no," for that was beyond the power of the queen.
"So?" said Helg. "What then?" She looked at her door. "Odd that we've not heard a pip of it. I suppose my wards and warnings must work better than even I thought." Returning her attention to the raven, she asked again, "So what happened?"
"They have struck a bargain. There I was, watching it all from the flagpole. They struck a deal. "Go do this, and that, and we will do this, and whosoever wins shall rule the Veld." Or something like that."
"What was the bargain?" Lilia felt the knot tightening in her throat. "Tell me. By what words does my homeland hang?"
Gnissa shook his head as if it itched, gave one long hoarse croak and then in a perfect mimicry of Rosa's voice he recited everything, word for word. At Alraun's interjections, he mimicked the Alder King's words so well that Lilia shivered.
"A talent for voices," said Gnissa, when he was done. "It runs in the family. Magpies are better with voices, you know. Never trust a magpie. You'll never know when he is speaking his mind, or just repeating something clever he's heard. Stupid birds."
"Lilia?" Helg's eyebrows were drawn into a frown, and her mouth was twisted down at the corners. "Lilia? Are you all right? You look pale, dear."
"Yes." She pressed her fingers to her brow, took a measured breath, smiled and began to pace. "That was exactly the bargain? Word for word?"
"It was, it was." Gnissa fanned his tail feathers, and leaned forward. "It still is, unless one of the champions has got the crown already."
"Do you realise, Helg?" She could feel her face twitching with the urge to grin. "Do you see? We need Kveldulf. Raven?"
"Gnissa."
"Gnissa, could you fly and fetch Kveldulf? Would you?"
He gave out a low thoughtful croak. "There's a nice bit of ham hanging over the fireplace. Promise me a gulletful of it, and I'll see if I can find him."
"You've stuffed yourself to bursting with meat already today, you greedy little pig-bird," said Helg.
"I'll be hungry again before long. And the meat on the field of slaughter will not keep long. I will not eat maggoty flesh. Leave that for the magpies and crows."
"Yes," said Lilia, "yes, just go and find Kveldulf."
Helg was indignant. "Harrumph, Lilia. Just whose house do you think this is? Promising my food to vermin."
But the raven ignored her. "Fling open the door, good maiden, let the door fly wide for your winged messenger."
Lilia crossed to the door before Helg could object. She threw the latch, and swung the door wide. A spread of black feathers swooped out into the deepening afternoon light.
"And what, may I ask, has got into you, deary?" said Helg.
Lilia began pacing immediately.
"The vow they swore. It never made mention of Rosa, or Alraun, or anyone by name. Do you not see? It was all "whomsoevers". A vow that binds them both."
With a weary sigh, Helg arched her old brows, and expressed bewilderment. "You're words are dancing circles around me, deary. Crazed circles. What do you so urgently want with Kveldulf, then?"
"Because, Helg, according to the terms of the bargain, I need a champion."
-oOo-
The paw print sank deep in the mud, and was pocked with snow. Letting his fingers trace over the shape of the hollow, Kveldulf squinted into the early night of the forest.
Recent.
And heavy. She was carrying something then. Not far away he found a slight splatter of congealing red. He crouched low and sniffed. Deer. Standing over the path, he let his eyes follow the trail, away, off into the murk. But in the moment that he chose to put a foot after her something stirred at the edge of his vision. He froze. He drew two knives, one iron, one silver, even as the rustling grew in power, and moved towards him... closer... closer.
But it wasn't her.
It was not anything he had expected.
A force struck the forest like an explosion of thunder in a gale. It flowed about him. As if there were a river in the air. Strange shapes towered out of the forest, and drifted by, one by one, twirling away into the dusk.
All was st
ill.
"Sorcery roams this night." The croaking voice defiled the silence that had grown up out of the river of power's passing.
Without deigning to so much as glance up, Kveldulf sheathed his knives. He did not reply, but instead watched the passing presence with his eyes.
"Well?" said Gnissa. "Acting the sullen sod today are we? No word of welcome for your favourite raven?"
"That troubles me."
"That I am your favourite raven? Well if you only made more friends. Got out more. Tried to meet a few like-minded souls. Maybe take up a hobby."
Kveldulf scowled up at the feathery shadow in the canopy.
Gnissa's voice turned throaty and concerned. "Have you considered knitting?"
"You know of what I mean. That," he paused and knotted his brow, "that... presence. There was old magic in it. Where was it going? And what was it? A spell? A demon?"
"Shapes and shadows," said Gnissa and he flapped his wings idly, "shapes and shadows. Me? I'd have thought you would be well used to a life full of shapes and shadows."
"Shapes and shadows?" He smiled. "Yes, but whose?"
"To the caves of the dead pagan Eorls."
Kveldulf had nothing immediate to respond with. He stared up at the raven, perched amongst the weave of moonlit sky and black branches. Raising his brow and cleared his throat, he said, "And how does a raven come to this knowledge."
"I have my ways."
"I don't suppose you have anything useful to tell me then? For instance, whether you might have found out where the she-wolf is lairing herself?" The tone in his voice made it sound like he was telling off an ill-mannered and bothersome child.
The raven ignored him. "It is cold out here, I've had to puff my feathers out just to stay above freezing. How's about we go back to that little cottage you've been spending evenings at? Might be nice to be inside for a bit."
"Gnissa? Please explain what you are up to."
"Helg is home. And that other one. The forest king's mate. The quiet, pale one."
"There is sorcery unlike anything I have felt in two centuries drifting on the air tonight. What do you know about it?"
Flapping his wings, the raven said playfully. "Ah, to feather-rot with you then. You are summoned, Kveldulf. Summoned by a once-was-lady and a witch o' the woods. Come at once, for who could deny such a summons as that?" With that Gnissa stretched his frame, and dropping from the branch, he flapped away into the night.
Kveldulf stole a glance back into the growing shadows, his eyes following after the pawprints, then back, the other way, after Gnissa. With a heavy shrug he trudged after the bird.
"This had best be worth my while," said Kveldulf to himself. "Or damned be that bird, I'll make myself a raven feather trim for my cloak."
Gnissa's distant voice was mocking. "You'd have to catch me." A raucous caw of laughter rolled away into the night.
-oOo-
In the warmth of Helg's cottage, the stiff leather of Kveldulf's boots softened, and became a musty heap around his feet. Hanging by the door his doeskin cloak was beginning to steam, giving off a smell of sweat and melting frost.
"Well?" said Lilia.
He stared at her for a hard moment. Unblinking. "You are quite crazy," said Kveldulf after a time. "And I've no interest in playing childish games."
"Games?" said Lilia. "Games? The future of my people, of my homeland, hangs in the balance, and you call it a game?"
"And childish," added Kveldulf.
Lilia cast a hot glare at Helg, but the old woman made a frail defensive gesture with her bone-thin hands, and shook her head. "I'm staying well clear of this."
Kveldulf got to his feet, and made to put on his cloak. "If you want this crown so sorely, go and fetch it yourself."
"I will. I would. I'll go with you every step of the way if you will let me. In the letter of the agreement, there was nothing to forbid us going together, but someone must come with me or else I won't fulfil the oath. You think I would put the Veld into the hands of the likes of you, had I a choice?"
"So?" said Kveldulf. His fingers were still numb from the cold, and he was fumbling with the catch at his throat. "If you prefer someone else, find someone else."
"Who else is there? Helg? She can't walk the distance? Gnissa? I don't even want to think about how that would turn out."
"Hoy!" said Gnissa. "I am sitting right here."
"Aurg! Do I have repeat the whole thing again!" She was pale and trembling now. "Don't you understand? How can I get through your thick skull? The terms of the bargain. I need a champion to retrieve the crown for me. As far as the letter of the vow, all you need to do is reach out and pick up the damned thing from Feold's rotten, dusty skull."
"And, no doubt, also sneak or fight you safely past whatever perils Rosa and Alraun have set in one another's way, not to mention a the shadows of the dead. Gnissa, how was it put?"
Gnissa mimicked Rosa's voice. "Dark spirits haunt pagan graves. Spirits that neither you, nor I could master." A soft croak. "So it is said."
"Wild, savage pagan ghosts," said Lilia, and her lips pressed into an angry pout. "Not friends of yours then? What a surprise."
He raised a finger and pointing it at her said, "that, young woman, is no way to speak to me if you want my help."
"Please," said Lilia. Her eyes sought his, wide, and plaintive. Her hands were balled up into small fists, clenched in frustration.
"No."
Lilia grit her teeth. Looking down once, she said, "How can you say that? I remember that once in my garden you said that if I needed help, I only had to ask. Were those words utterly meaningless?"
"I have my own woes to mend now."
There came a small huff of a laugh from the rafters. "A shadow to hunt, to hunt, a tail to chase about the mulberry bush." The hoarse sniggers were replaced slowly by light scratches of claw on wood. Looking up at Gnissa, Lilia's gaze shaded for a moment with puzzlement. Her lips pressed to a thin frown, as she cast her eyes back to Kveldulf. "I will promise you vast treasures," her voice hardened, "once I am Lady of Veld."
"That, I recall your sister once promised me. One sister tricks me. Shame on you. Two sisters trick me. Shame on me."
"A rank among my thanes."
"No."
"I will drape your shoulders with velvets, hang a jewelled sword on your belt, heap gold into your hands."
The silence that hung between them was awful and lingering.
In a small tired voice Lilia just said, "please. Please. You are my last hope. The last hope of my people. Please."
He turned his back to her. But though his fingers closed on the doorknob his hand did not pull the door open.
A flutter in the cobwebbed rafters. "Ask me? I think its been long years since our dear wolf-be-man wanted anything but revenge."
He looked over his shoulder, up at Gnissa. The raven had his neck drawn in, but his beady eyes were bright and amber-gold. He shrunk smaller under Kveldulf's gaze. "Or maybe not. No need to get angry with poor little me. Nice, silent, quiet Gnissa."
"Please," said Lilia.
"I must see to my own worries." He found himself staring into the distance without anything to look at. His lifted his hands then and stared at them as if his finger's dripped blood. "She kills every night now. Each night I smell blood on the air, coppery, sticky and sweat. It is a matter of days before she takes another human life. I must hunt her. Trap her. And be rid my demon. Helg, you know of this. Of her. Tell you little girl-child here. Tell her that I cannot give up the hunt."
Helg was silent, but her eyes looked sad.
"Kveldulf," said Gnissa, "He is a little obsessed."
"There is something, a creature you hunt?" Lilia's voice was tentative. She licked her lips. "I will make you the chief of all my hunters, hounds and hawks. You will have a hundred spears at your command."
"They would do me no good," said Kveldulf. "Hawks and hounds will not fell her. " Scowling, he wrapped his cloak about his shoulders,
and turned to go. His hand was on the door when he paused. She was still standing there. Waiting in silence. He could almost feel her stare boring into his neck. The door creak a little ajar. He held his hand.
"Then what would kill this monster you're hunting?"
Kveldulf shook his head. "I don't know yet. Maybe Helg can brew something from the last of Snoro's potion?" He sounded faintly hopeful. "Or maybe not. Who can say?"
"I can."
They all looked up at Gnissa.
"What?" said Kveldulf.
Gnissa was preening himself. He was hardly concerned or bothered. "Snoro told me. He rattled off a whole list of ways that you could kill the she-wolf, and then be rid of the curse. He reckoned killing on of your kind was easy enough, but he was looking for a way to control you, not kill you."
"What?" said Kveldulf. He stepped back into the house, and glared. "And you're telling me this now?"
"Well," said Gnissa. "Most of the rituals are too stupid for words. Balance a pea on your nose at midnight. That sort of thing. But there is that bit of bone in the temple, isn't there? He did go on about that a bit."
"That's actually real?" said Kveldulf. "I just assumed... bits of old dragon bone in temples are never real. I've looked at dozens of them over the years."
"How would you know what dragon bone looks like?" asked Helg.
"I once had a knife carved from it. I used that knife to kill the she-wolf's sisters, long ago, but lost it when she came after me. Gnissa, the bone fragment in the temple is genuine?"
"Snoro seemed to think so."
"Then it is yours," said Lilia, quickly. "If that is you price, it is yours. Please." Her voice was breaking with an edge of tears.
Kveldulf looked at the floor. "I am the grandest fool in the world." His brow felt heavy, his fingers felt numb. Then, as if in a dream, without saying a word, Kveldulf turned, and walked up to Lilia. She was so slight, this woman, and young, and pretty, and sad. But her stance, her gaze were both unflinching. And though her eyes seemed stern, she was clearly holding back her tears.
"A king of fools," said Kveldulf. "Helg? Will this work? This plan of Lilia's?"
Lilia leapt at Kveldulf as if she meant to hug him, then stopped short, held herself in check. She smiled. "Thank you."
"I haven't said, yes."
Her smile was knowing. "Still, thank you."
Helg breathed a sigh. "Alraun is bound by his word. Old laws hold his folk. But Rosa? She may break her word. It may go hard on her heart, but she could break her word, all the same--if she was pushed to do it."
Lilia was stoic. "I must risk it. It is all the hope I have."
"Hope," and Kveldulf let a bitter smile creep over his face. "Now there is a word I've not allowed myself for a long time."
Hurriedly looking around, Lilia picked up from the table a half-full bottle and two brightly glazed earthenware goblets. She splashed red wine into the cups, and plonked the bottle back on the wood. "Then let us drink, to the crown, to your hunt, to hope."
Kveldulf's smile shifted about on his face, not quite settling into anything permanent, "To hope."
And Lilia repeated, "To hope."
-oOo-
Despite all her words of desperation, it was Lilia who took her time getting ready. Kveldulf was standing silent and ready by the door, as soon as the doeskin cloak was wrapped about his shoulders.
He shut his eyes. Bumps. Clatters. Ruffles. Helg saying, "Will you need more food? A flagon of wine? Put on something warmer, dear."
And Lilia rushing about replying with many an, "mhmm," and "yes."
Finally, she hurried herself to the door and said, "Well?"
Kveldulf opened his eyes. She stood there, bundled in a sheepskin cloak, trimmed with plush white fur. A satchel was slung over one shoulder, and in her other gloved hand she held a stout walking staff.
"Well?" she said again.
"Are you sure of this?" he said.
"Yes."
"There is a good chance you'll be injured. Maybe worse."
Taking a deep breath, Lilia nodded and said, "I might not come through this. I know. But it is something I must do. What good is a ruler who will not risk herself for her land? What use is a ruler who thinks her subject's lives are less important than hers? From the moment I fled the Toren Vaunt, I have felt a worm of unease. I know why now. I abandoned them, my people, my family, my home. I just gave them all to Rosa on a platter. I think from that moment, this had to happen. I had to face her, eventually."
Kveldulf raised a palm, and nodded with a slight smile. "I can only ask."
"So, shall we go? Time is pressing."
He turned and looked at the shawl-wrapped woman in her chair by the fire. "Helg. Thank you. We may not see one another again. You have been a help to me. Thank you."
"Yes, yes, get off with you." said Helg. "As the young lady said, time is short."
Kveldulf pushed the door open, and made a slightly mockery of a bow.
"M'lady."
"My brave champion," said Lilia, with perhaps slightly more of an ironic twist to her voice than she might have intended. She followed with a flash of a smile, though.
"You're welcome," said Kveldulf.
"Goodbye," said Gnissa as they stepped through the doorway. "Enjoy yourselves off with the heathen dead and eldritch faer monsters."
Helg's piping voice was the last thing they heard before the door slammed shut. "Oh shut up, you flea-bitten feather duster"