Winter Solstice Winter - Book I in the Viking Blood Saga

Many men have died here.

  Lucia did not keep track of how long she had been imprisoned in the southwestern tower, but she knew it had been more than three months—perhaps even four. She had developed a severe cough and was in and out of consciousness, her body vacillating between freezing and quivering, and profuse bouts of sweating.

  Every few days, a Surtorian would come in and beat her. Today, it had been more painful than usual and she scanned her fingers across her forehead, exploring the sore parts.

  “Ouch,” she said when her fingers reached the large, bruised area close to her hairline. She pulled her hand away and saw that it was covered in blood. As she wiped her fingers onto the floor, she looked around the ghostly room and saw her fur coat lying on the floor in a bundle in the corner. She stood up slowly, walked over to it, picked it up, and wrapped herself in it. It had kept her warm, however, it was now so dirty that it was hard to believe it had ever been white. She coughed a few times, but fortunately was able to stop before blood was being expelled as it sometimes was.

  There was a small barred opening for a window in the thick stone walls. Attached to it were poorly constructed, grayed, wood shutters that were wide open. She walked over and shut them to keep the cold and unyielding wind out. There was no bed in the room for her to sleep or rest on, only dried golden straw scattered on the floor and in the corners. The room smelled of urine, straw and old fabric.

  The hope that her father was still alive was the only thing that had kept her alive this past, particularly grueling month. She walked over to the door and stopped to listen for him, like she had hundreds of times before. The only sound she could hear was the whistling wind as it came in through the angular cracks in the shutters.

  “Father,” she yelled. “Father, are you here?” She pressed her ear against the dense oak door. No sound. No answer. There never had been an answer and lately, she had started to think that there never would be one. An empty feeling rumbled in her heart. She buried her face in her hands and shrank to the floor with her back toward the door. “Odin, Thor?” she said. “If you are there, show me a sign!” Only more silence responded.

  Suddenly, she heard footsteps, followed by the clattering sound of keys and she managed to crawl away from the door just before it opened. Ivar stood in the doorway holding a tray, his muscular body filling the entire entrance. Once a day, he would bring leftover fish or game and moldy, dry bread, and had not Lucia’s life depended on it, she would have refused to eat the food brought by the savage traitor. Ivar was one of her father’s previous guards, and she could not believe he was now serving her father’s worst enemy.

  “Where is my father? Do you know anything? Is he alive? Please, I just need to know,” Lucia cried. He set the tray down onto the floor and stepped back without a word. The door slammed shut and the keys clattered as he locked it. Never. Never was there an answer to her questions.

  She scooted toward the food, picked up a piece of bread, and stuffed it into her mouth. Lifting the cup with an unsteady hand, she pressed it to her lips and gulped the fluid down. Milk! It was milk! She had not tasted the sweet drink for months, and although she should save it, she could not. Tilting the cup completely upside down, she sucked on the edge, ensuring every last drop fell into her mouth. She jammed the meat down her throat, nearly swallowing it whole. There was more food here than there usually was, but far from enough to fill her concave belly. After finishing the meal, she thought, Had anyone seen me eat, they would have thought I was a wild, desperate animal. And who was she to refute that?

  To her surprise, she heard the keys clattering again on the other side of the door. Fear surged through her. Is the Surtorian here to beat me again? She fled from the door and cowered to the corner, her heart thumping like a drum against her ribs.

  Ivar appeared in the doorway, staring at her from across the room. Puzzled, Lucia thought she saw something that looked like sympathy in his big, brown eyes.

  “Your father is alive,” he said. “He is in the queen’s chamber.” He stepped back and slammed the door shut again.

  Lucia gasped. “Thank you, thank you,” she said. He is alive! My father is alive! No words had ever sounded sweeter, and her bosom filled with warmth. She waited to hear the keys again, but only silence could be heard. Then, she heard Ivar leaving as his heavy boots collided with the stone floor. Did he leave it unlocked on purpose? The steps grew quieter and quieter, until finally they were gone.

  Lucia felt extremely tired and ill, not to mention beaten, but she forced herself to stand up and walk over to the door. She stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, her ear pressed against the door, listening for any movement or sound. It was completely silent. Dare she try to open it?

  She pulled on the iron handle, and to her astonishment, it creaked open. She paused and listened again, halfway expecting someone to kick the door in and assault her for trying to escape. But there was no sound. She slowly opened the door enough so she could glance into the hallway. It was pitch black. Would she dare to try and escape? Her chest tightened, and she began to cough. Closing the door again, she held it shut as the coughs tore through her lungs and throat. She cupped her hand over her mouth, and tried to calm herself. However, this attack would not be tamed, and she just had to patiently ride it out. Once she felt as if her lungs had been turned inside out, she was able to stop the coughing. She opened the door again, and this time she squeezed through it and stepped into the dark corridor.

  After taking a few steps, she reached the spiral stairwell. The light from the open door behind her was all that she had to go by, which was not much. She did not recall how many steps there were down to the bottom, but she knew she only had to go down one level to get to the main hallway. Slowly, as she descended the stairs, she curved around the cylinder shaped wall with her back against it, her hands feeling their way against the cold, rough surface. It looked like the torches had been lit in the hallway as the dim flickering glow painted the walls.

  When she reached the bottom of the stairwell she paused and listened for voices. She heard Eiess and an unfamiliar man conversing in the throne room. Could this really be happening? If she kept herself hidden, she might escape today. The thought excited her and frightened her. She should just make a run for it, but could not find it in her heart to not check on her father first, and now that she knew where he was, she set her course for the queen’s chamber. She ran as quickly as she could toward the room, but did not get far until she had to stop when a coughing attack overtook her aching body. She covered her mouth with the inside of her elbow to muffle the uncontrollably loud sounds but kept moving to make use of her valuable time.

  “Halt!” she heard behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw another guard, one she did not recognize, charging toward her. Petrified, she started to run down the corridor. Another guard was standing at the door of the queen’s chamber, and as she approached him, she could see that it was Ivar. He did not react to her when he noticed her, but instead he let her pass by and even held the door open for her to enter the room.

  “Ivar, grab her!” the other guard yelled.

  Lucia expected Ivar to follow her and run her through, and so she lunged to the floor. She heard Ivar draw his longsword behind her and prepared for the worst. He means to kill me! She spun onto her back, and just as she did, the unknown guard fell to the floor as Ivar pulled the bloody longsword out of the guard’s abdomen.

  “Your Majesty,” Ivar said, offering his hand to Lucia.

  Lucia’s body was shaking violently both from fear and from being weak.

  “There is little time. We must get Lucia out of here now!” The voice was deep and familiar, and when Lucia glanced toward where it had come from, she saw her father sitting by the desk at the window. She took Ivar’s hand, and he pulled her to her feet.

  Turning toward her father, she noticed how it looked as if he had aged twenty years. His hair and beard were nearly completely white, and he had become so thin and wrin
kled, it pained her to look at him.

  She started coughing again, her whole body shuddering this time with the convulsions. “Father,” she said in between coughs as she rushed toward him. “You are alive! Are you ill? You look so pale. Oh, what did they do to you?” She had never been happier to see him, and she found it odd how she had been so angry with him before.

  “You must leave now, Lucia. The empress will kill you if she finds you here,” King Olav said, taking her into his embrace. She wondered why he was not standing up. Was he injured? “What about you?” she asked.

  “Eiess will not harm me, but you must go.”

  She had never seen him this vulnerable before, so ill and beaten up. He had always been so strong, so powerful and commanding. His vulnerability touched her. He is just a man after all. To Lucia, her father had always seemed immortal, a man of strength who could overcome anything or anyone. She was not used to seeing him so helpless and lifeless, at the mercy of another being.

  “No,” she said stubbornly. “I will not leave you.”

  “Listen, Ivar will take you part way through the secret escape tunnel underneath that rug there,” Olav said, pointing to the floor. “Ivar and I have prepared a bag for you to take. It contains supplies, gold, food, and a Bergendal-crested ring,” he said, gesturing to a bag on the floor. “You will need it when you get out. There are also clothes in the bag, and you must change into them before you exit the castle so no one will recognize you. Ivar has arranged for Nora to meet you at the other end.”

  Lucia immediately felt better when she heard Nora was still alive and that she would see her soon.

  “She will wait for you outside the exit tonight. You need to go now. Be safe. I will see you again soon,” Olav said.

  Lucia hugged her father and tried unsuccessfully to hold back her tears—weeks, no, months of accumulated loneliness coming out at once.

  “I love you, Lucia, always remember that. And if you do what is right, everything will turn out for the best in the end,” Olav comforted.

  He seemed a much gentler man than Lucia remembered. “Promise I will see you soon?”

  “Yes, very soon, I promise,” Olav said.

  Ivar walked over to the rug and peeled it back, exposing a trap door in the floor. He lifted the square latch by a cord, revealing a set of stone stairs.

  Has it been there all alone? From the looks of the worn steps and cobwebs, she assumed it had. She wrapped her arms around her father again. “I will be so angry with you if you are lying,” she said, squeezing him as tightly as she could. They embraced again and she forced herself to walk over to the trap door. She turned around and looked at her father one last time. A feeling of death overwhelmed her. It was the same way she had felt at her mother’s burial: a numbing force of desperate surrender and utter helplessness.

  “I love you!” She swallowed back fresh tears that were just waiting to flow and silenced her desperate cry to appear brave in her father’s eyes.

  Ivar descended the stairs and his torch lit the way in the dim tunnel. Lucia turned around and followed after, noticing how the smell of mold and putrid earth rose into her nostrils. There were old spider webs, dust and mud covering the stone walls, and the stairs only continued partway down until they came to a dirt pathway. When her father closed the trap door behind her, murky shadows appeared on the walls.

  Suddenly, angry yells could be heard from inside the castle, and as surely as if her father had confessed it, she knew that he had lied. He would not be safe. He would not! A heaving cry grew inside of her and refused to be contained.

  Probably seeing what was happening, Ivar lunged over to Lucia and held his hand over her mouth, quieting her cries.

  “Guards!” they heard Eiess yell from the castle. “Guards!” She screamed in frustration when they did not respond immediately. Eiess had clearly found the dead guard in the hallway. Lucia heard heavy, rushed footsteps make their way to the scene and she heard Eiess frantically yell and order them to check on the princess, gather a search troop, and find the killer.

  “Do not worry. All will be well,” Ivar said. “You will hide here until it has quieted down, and then you will sneak out the back exit, just a little ways from here. I will not fit in that tight tunnel before the exit, so you will need to go alone after that. Remember, Nora is waiting for you there.”

  Lucia nodded, and he removed his hand from her mouth.

  “You should go change over there,” Ivar said, pointing down the hallway. “I will wait here.”

  It was a welcome distraction. Lucia walked a few steps into the dark and opened her bag. She could make out a few items in the dim light of Ivar’s torch. Inside was a small purse containing gold pieces, some food and clothing and a blanket. She pulled the clothes out of the bag, set the bag down on the ground, and started to change. Her body shivered from both the cold and nerves. The clothes looked like regular men’s peasant clothing, rough and worn, but she could not make out the color in the darkness. Unexpectedly her cough came back and she had to stop changing in order to calm her sick body. When she was finished, she went back over to Ivar.

  “Your father instructed me to remind you that you have been sanctified with a great responsibility to help rid this country of the evils of Eiess. He wrote you this letter and you must read it after you are in a safe place, far from here.” Ivar handed her a sealed scroll with her name on it, and then he stopped to listen. Footsteps marched in unison—more guards had been recruited—and they were probably searching the castle for Lucia.

  “Come,” he whispered, waving her to follow him down the passageway.

  Lucia followed him as closely as she could, clutching her father’s precious words in her hands. Perhaps they will be his last.

  Finally, they came to a small opening at the end of the passageway. Ivar waived his torch across the wall as his eyes searched for something. He started brushing off the dirt and dust and uncovered an inscription. He mumbled as he read it. Then, he knelt down on the ground and brushed some dirt off something that looked like an iron gate, or a door of some sort. It appeared to be welded shut. “Hold this,” he said, handing Lucia the torch. He pulled a large key from his satchel and placed the key in the only hole.

  Suddenly, the door began to rise. When it stopped, Ivar pushed the square iron box to the side and exposed a framed hole in the ground.

  It was dark, but Lucia could feel the cool breeze from the outside gusting against her face.

  “This is the way out. It is a tight, curved squeeze, but you are small. You must enter head first, as the path will later curve horizontally and then straight up like so,” he said, demonstrating with his hands. “There is no room to change directions in the tunnel.”

  Lucia cringed.

  “You will need to knock four times like so,” he said and showed her on the stone wall. “She will remove the bushes and open the gate so you can get out. Do not attempt to get out on your own. Wait until she opens it. Nora will need to make sure the path is clear of any unwanted persons. Knock only four times, no matter how long it takes for her to open. Do you understand?” His eyebrows furrowed.

  “Yes,” Lucia said quietly.

  “And you must not return into the castle, for Eiess will surely have your head,” he said. “It has been a pleasure serving you, Your Majesty. May the gods watch over and protect you on your journey and until we meet again.”

  “Please watch over my father. I cannot bear to lose another loved one,” she implored, even though she almost felt in her heart that he was already dead.

  “I will protect King Olav, even with my own life,” Ivar said.

  It took all she had to not break down and cry again. Lucia thanked him, took a deep breath, and crawled head-first into the dark pit. Small pebbles littered the tight passage, sticking to her palms, and Lucia barely fit through the hole. First she traveled straight downward, deeper and deeper the path of the cavity took her. After many minutes of being upside down, with blood uncomfortably
rushing to and settling in her head, the path straightened and became easier to maneuver. Finally, she saw a dim light in the distance, encouraging moonlight peering through the tunnel.

  She slinked forward for a long while on belly and elbows, having to stop and rest whenever another cough attack gripped her aching body. Relief washed through her when the tunnel started to curve sharply upwards. I am near!

  Seeing the end, she tried to squeeze through the last part, but became wedged in the tight space. She retreated back into the tunnel and tried another way but became stuck again. Even though it was cold, drops of sweat ran down her forehead, and as she struggled to free herself, her energy dwindled into nothingness. Finally, she became lodged so tight that she could not move backwards or forwards. I hope I do not miss Nora. She was so tired of crying, but she could not help the tears from coming, realizing she had become immovably wedged just a few feet away from her freedom.

  Is it my fate to die in a tunnel beneath my castle? Surely, her life must have a better destiny than to end at this. Mother, please help me! Lucia pleaded, her entire body shuddering with sobs. Right after she had thought the words, a small rock loosened, giving her just enough room to squeeze free. She could hardly believe the small miracle, and immediately thanked her mother. She twisted through the last space and entered a small, cave-like opening. It contained the escape iron-barred gate Ivar had described, with dead bushes covered in snow in front of the opening.

  Is Nora really here waiting for me? She knocked four times as loudly as she could, hoping Nora had heard her. It was hard to make a loud enough sound on the thick iron gate. She waited and waited. Nothing. Not a sound. Not a movement. She felt another cough attack coming on and buried her mouth in her sleeve to muffle the noise. It lasted longer than usual this time, and her stomach convulsed until it cramped.

  She reached through the barred gate and picked up some snow, placing it in her mouth and letting it melt on her tongue. The liquid ran down her throat, and eased the cough. Once she had caught her breath, she wondered if she should knock again. It was going to be a long, cold night if Nora did not come, but she still decided not to knock a second time, recalling what Ivar had said.

  She began to shiver. To her great horror, she noticed that she had left her white fur coat behind. She had dropped it on the floor when she changed into these male peasant clothes, and had forgotten to put it back on. How would she live without it?

  Fortunately, her father had enough foresight and had placed a wool blanket in the bag. She took it out and wrapped her cold body tightly in it. Although it was a thin blanket, it felt warm. To make time go by faster, she emptied the bag her father had given her. Slipping the Bergendal crested ring on her finger, she noticed how it glowed in the moonlight. If I am the Great Sentinor, I must not die here. I must fight for my life and find the one person who can help me defeat Eiess. And those were her last thoughts before she drifted off to sleep.