Owen saw the siblings register this name—they knew of this Baron.
“Fjelstad is a good man. I do believe it. For years now he has been gathering the Nytteson and offering them protection. That has been our work…”
“But you have doubts about him,” Stieg said. “They are written on your face.”
“Perhaps. Ketil said some disturbing things, but he was trying to goad me—”
“It doesn’t matter now. We must go for our brother,” Stieg said. “Hanne, should we take Mr. Tjossem with us? What do your instincts say?”
“There is no one who knows more about the Nytte than I do,” Rolf said simply. “You need me.”
Hanne eyed the Norwegian, her arms crossed. “I think he’s harmless enough,” she told Stieg. Owen privately agreed.
“Then let’s go find our brother,” Stieg said. “It will be early evening by the time we get back to Wolf Creek.”
Owen watched as Rolf bent, grimacing from the pain at his shoulder, and picked up a dark piece of ash-covered charcoal from the fire. Rolf tossed the charcoal from hand to hand while it cooled, then pocketed it.
He was a strange man, for sure.
* * *
HANNE WAS GRATEFUL for the rhythm of the horse’s gait. She must think. She must calm herself enough to think and to recover. Knut was in danger; she knew this not with her gut-sense of the Nytte, but with her reason.
She thought of the men she had killed at the shack. They were enemies. They were bounty hunters and she did not mourn their deaths, but when she recalled the joy she’d felt, the delight of the slaughter, she felt hot shame.
The stranger Rolf could say she was different from other Berserkers, but she was not.
She tried to force herself to settle down. She must not go into town with a fluttering heart. She would be more likely to lose consciousness to the Berserker within if she did. It was as if there were a membrane keeping the Nytte from her bloodstream, and that membrane had gotten thinner and thinner. The Nytte was pulsing under her heartbeat, eager to be set free in her body.
A horse drew along, and Hanne was displeased to see it was the stranger, Rolf. She imagined he was about to give more warnings about this Berserker, Ketil. Or he would try to persuade her to stay out of town.
“I believe there is a way to direct the rage that comes into you when the Nytte overtakes you.”
Hanne’s knuckles went white on the pommel. She sat rigid with attention.
“How?” she said.
“The ancient poems allude to a mastery of the Nytte that has long been dismissed,” Rolf continued. “There is a way for you to inhabit the Nytte, to become one with the power.”
“How?”
She turned to stare at the scarred man. He made a little half shrug. “I don’t know exactly how. Through prayer, possibly, or singing sacred songs.”
Hanne snorted.
“I can teach them to you. We can work until we find the way—”
“I don’t want to become one with the power. I just want to keep my family safe,” Hanne said.
“Yes. I know,” Rolf said. And he had the good sense to let his horse fall back and leave her alone.
To calm herself, she planned.
Once she found her younger brother, she would take him away, and leave Sissel with Stieg. Hanne could keep Knut safe, and they could go far away from Stieg and Sissel, to draw danger away from them. Knut would do as she said. They could flee to another country. Canada was only a few days’ journey to the north, if she was remembering the maps she’d seen accurately. Or perhaps they could go to the Indian lands. It was very wild there. They might do well.
Stieg and Sissel could go to Chicago, as Stieg had once meant to do. And Owen, he could find a normal girl to settle with. Anyone would want to marry such a hardworking boy. Not to mention handsome. And kind.
He would have no trouble at all. Hanne forced herself to imagine him with a pretty, plump wife on a homestead.
After a few moments, Owen’s horse appeared alongside hers. “Are you okay?” he asked. He had ridden up on her, as if she’d called him with her thoughts, and now his fine bay horse was right beside hers.
Hanne nodded tightly. “I am fine.”
“I saw you talking to Mr. Tjossem. I think he means right by you.”
Hanne did not answer. She wished Owen would go away. She needed to be quiet and focus on the task ahead.
“I wanted to tell you. Damn it, Hanne, don’t shut me out.”
Hanne turned her head, shocked that he would curse at her.
“You’re taking it all on your shoulders, taking all the responsibility and the blame. Look, those were bad men. They got what they had coming—”
“Please be quiet!” she snapped. “I am not grieving for those men.”
Hanne fixed her eyes on the trail ahead, as if by force of concentration she could make Owen go away. The line of the creek descended through the boulders and the scrub cottonwoods, bringing them closer and closer to town.
“You think you’re a bad person, but I know that’s not true,” Owen said.
“I cannot bear to hurt anyone else,” Hanne erupted. Her knuckles were white on the reins. “You must leave me and forget me, Mr. Bennett! It is hard enough knowing I have ruined the lives of my three siblings. I will not ruin anything else.”
“When you move like you did back there at the cabin—”
“Don’t!” Hanne said, and she felt herself in danger. Owen swam in her vision, becoming red, a threat.
“It’s beautiful! It’s like watching an angel fly! Like water flowing over a rock. Like, I don’t know, like something God made. Something perfect and right.”
Her hand was at her knife.
“Be quiet!” she hissed.
“If I had what you had, I’d be thankful.”
“Thankful?” Hanne said. How could he be so stupid? “You have no sense—”
“You got family and they love you,” Owen said, his eyes sparkling with feeling. “You belong to them, and them to you. That’s something worth defending, Hanne. If you’d ever gone without it, if you’d ever known what it was like to be alone, miserable, and … unloved in the world, you’d understand.”
Owen’s face was twisted with emotion he was clearly trying to master. He turned Pal away from her.
Tears welled up in Hanne’s eyes, making the trail waver in front of her.
She thought about Owen’s upbringing, family life, and how little she knew of his history. He was fully immersed in the drama of their lives, and she knew next to nothing of his life.
Everywhere Hanne looked, she saw her own failings. She had failed to be a good friend to Owen, and she had failed to check her feelings for him, and now he was in danger.
She was a menace to those she loved, and she must separate from them. She would flee them, flee from loving them.
Hanne tried, very hard, to forget what Owen had said. She tried to make her mind empty and her heart cold.
* * *
FINALLY WOLF CREEK presented itself through the trees down the mountain. It looked like a long brown scab, crusted in the crook of the valley floor. At this end of the frost-packed street, there were only a few battered buildings, their false fronts leaning past right angles.
On the front steps of one such building sat an old man wearing a tattered buffalo-skin coat, his own skin wrinkled and withered by exposure. He eyed them with one squinting eye, taking care to aim his tobacco spurt away from their horses’ hooves.
They dismounted and walked their horses past.
“Hanne,” Stieg said low, flanking her, “are you sure you must go into town? Ought you not wait here?”
Looking ahead down the street, Hanne saw people. Townspeople crossing the street. Miners and a few women. Children accompanying their mothers on errands.
Hanne drew in a ragged breath. Her rib cage was tight, and she felt prickly in her palms and the soles of her feet. What might happen down where strangers would be around?
“Perhaps it is best,” Rolf ventured from behind, “if Stieg and Owen go ahead simply to see if they can find information about what has happened to Knut.”
“It is too dangerous for us to be separated,” she continued. “We must stay together.”
“Well, I cannot go with you,” Rolf said. “If Ketil has managed to survive and he sees me with you, he’ll know who you are. Your great advantage is that he does not know what you look like. He thinks the Berserker is a boy. He will think it’s you.” He nodded to Stieg.
“I’m glad we have an advantage, then,” said Stieg. He was feigning confidence, but Hanne could see he was anxious and scared.
“Hanne, remember, you must not fight Ketil,” Rolf said. “He is trained—”
“I do not wish to fight him or anyone, just to get my brother.”
“Daisy, stay,” Owen told his dog. She lay down, panting. She had kept pace well. The wound was healing.
“Keep Daisy here, will you?” Owen asked Rolf. “And if we don’t come back…”
Rolf nodded. He sighed. “Hanne, let me give you a gift. To protect you in town. In case Ketil still lives.”
Hanne looked to Stieg. He shrugged.
As Rolf dismounted, he reached into his vest pocket and took out the piece of charcoal he had pocketed from the fire.
“Give me your hands, please,” he said.
Hanne extended her hands to the man. He pressed the bit of charcoal into the palm of her right hand, drawing a shape that looked like an arrow.
Hanne snatched her hand back.
“What is this? A rune?”
“Yes,” he said. “It calls to Freya, goddess of war and love. It will focus your power and heighten your senses.”
“Heighten my senses? No. I do not want that. That is the very last thing I want!” She rubbed at the sign with the fabric of her skirt.
“But Freya can help you, if you call to her. The old Gods watch you, Hanne. They are with you and within you.”
“The old Gods are long dead! And we are their final joke upon mankind!”
“No! What you are is sacred and special.”
“What I am is a monster! All of us are!” Hanne swept her hand out at her siblings. Stieg looked away, stung. “We are cursed.”
“The more you fight who you are, the less control you have,” Rolf told her. His face looked terribly sad. Sad and haggard, like the face of a failed man. “I beg you to accept the Nytte as the gift it is. Say it with me, ‘Ásáheill! Heill Odin. Heill Freya…’”
“Let’s go,” Hanne said, refusing to meet his eye as she climbed back into the saddle.
She kicked her horse and charged into town, rubbing her hand against her skirt to make sure the rune was smudged away. She would never accept the curse of the Nytte. It had stolen everything good from her.
CHAPTER THIRTY
In front of the jailhouse was a sight that confirmed Hanne’s worst fears: Two carpenters were fortifying the gallows with extra timber. They meant to hang her brother.
“He’s in the jail, then,” Stieg said to her, trying to look nonchalant. Hanne nodded.
The afternoon was turning to evening; blue shadows drew long across the pitted main street. She was possessed by fear for Knut’s well-being, but it came from her anxious mind, not from the gut-sense of her Nytte.
Across from the jail stood a three-story hotel, clapboard and painted white. It was the most handsome structure in town by far. Some ladies sat visiting on the porch, watching the carpenters reinforce the scaffold, as if waiting on a parade.
Owen nodded toward a stable down the street from the jail, on the opposite side of the street.
They dismounted and tied their horses to some hitching posts outside the stable. All around them, the sounds of a busy town echoed—voices calling, wagons bouncing over the rocky streets, and the sound of hammering. Hanne’s senses prickled at every hammer hit, yet the Nytte did not kindle, so she knew Knut was not in danger. Yet.
“I’ll create a distraction to draw out the sheriff and his men,” Stieg suggested.
“What will you do?” Hanne asked.
“Leave it to me. What you and Owen must do is get the keys to Knut’s cell from the sheriff or from his men when they come outside. Can you do that?”
Hanne and Owen both nodded. They glanced at each other, both trying to disguise their anxiety.
Stieg turned to Sissel.
“Sissel, you go into the street. When you see smoke rising from the hotel, call for help.”
“Stieg! What do you mean to do?” Hanne repeated.
“I’m going to set a fire, but I’ll be safe. You two will have to figure out how to free our brother.”
“We will,” Hanne said.
“Be careful,” Owen said.
“Owen, thank you,” Stieg said. “For everything you have done for us. We would have been lost many times over without your help. I am sorry for not bringing you into our confidence sooner.”
Owen nodded. He clapped Stieg on the shoulder and shook his hand.
“We will meet here,” Stieg said. “Or, if things go wrong, back where Rolf is waiting. Yes?”
They all agreed. Hanne reached forward and hugged Stieg, then turned to her sister. Hanne brushed a thin lock of Sissel’s hair behind her ear, then drew Sissel’s wrap more snugly around her head. Her sister’s eyes were big and shining with fear.
“Get out of harm’s way once you’ve helped Stieg. Promise? Come back here and wait for us.”
“I will,” Sissel said. Then suddenly Sissel hugged Hanne fiercely. “I’m sorry for all the times I was horrible.”
Hanne put her arms around her sister’s thin form and held her tight. She could feel Sissel’s heart pounding through her ribs.
“I could have been more gentle with you,” Hanne apologized.
“No,” Sissel said, shaking her head. “It was all me, and I’m sorry for it. Do be careful, Hanne!”
“I will,” Hanne said. “And you, too.”
Owen took Hanne by the elbow.
“Come now,” he said. “We’ll go to the mercantile next to the jail to wait. Better if we go first…”
* * *
HANNE AND OWEN walked arm in arm across the hard-packed street, stepping over the ruts and rain gullies. Everything in the street stood out in clear detail to Hanne, her heart pumping hard with excitement and dread. She was glad for Owen’s steadying hand laid over her forearm. The warmth helped.
They stepped onto the wooden plank stairs outside the mercantile. Three steps. Hanne noted them, trying to memorize their dimensions for later, when she knew she would fly down them and into the jailhouse next door.
The jail was squat and stone, the walls thick. Iron bars protected two tiny square windows set high on the side of the building.
“You talk,” Hanne said. “Lest they hear my accent.”
Owen nodded, and they stepped into the store.
“Afternoon,” said a young woman shopkeeper. She had her hair up in the bun of an older woman, but had a youthfully shy, winning smile and a pert, upturned nose.
“May I help you?”
“Let’s see,” Owen said. “We need supplies. But might just first have a look around.”
“Are you new to town? I must say, I hope so! There are few people our age hereabouts and we’ve undertaken a Bible study group.”
“Bible study, eh?” Owen said. Hanne pretended to browse the glass cases closest to the window, but her eyes were on the street.
“Yes, we’re starting with the Psalms, isn’t that lovely?”
Hanne’s eyes darted up and down the street. A peddler stopped his cart right outside the window, blocking her view. She strained her neck a bit to see around him.
“It there something to see?” the clerk asked. “What’s happening?”
“Oh, nothing,” Hanne said. She shook her head.
The girl came to the window nonetheless. Twilight was falling, and the light through the window
was tinted a dusky blue.
“I like your coat,” the clerk said, not unkindly. Hanne folded her arms, not wanting the girl to see the stained sleeves. “Such a pretty color of rose. Unusual.”
The girl’s eyes met Hanne’s. They were hazel with a ring of brown at the pupil, and for a moment Hanne wished that she could have been Owen’s young wife, come to settle a claim near Wolf Creek. Wished she might be friends with this girl, who was her age and who wanted a friend. Wished they could study psalms together in a room with a fire at the hearth and mugs of strong coffee. Confide secrets to each other and laugh together.
“Thank you,” Hanne managed to whisper, but the girl’s eyes flashed away from Hanne and out the window. “Smoke,” she cried. “Smoke! From the hotel!”
Hanne turned and looked, and there was smoke rising from the third-floor window.
A chair crashed through the panes of glass.
“Fire!” a girl’s voice shouted. It was Sissel, and she was close, though not standing where Hanne could see her from the window. “Fire! Oh, help!”
Hanne darted through the front door, followed closely by Owen and the shopgirl.
There was Stieg, standing at the broken window! “Help!” he shouted, smoke billowing out from behind him. In the next window, the smoke was darker, and tongues of flame began to lick at the window panels.
Stieg ducked away from the window, and Hanne knew suddenly what he was doing. He was blowing the fire away from him with icy breath every time his face disappeared from the window so that he would not burn up.
Hanne saw Sissel dart into the sheriff’s office and return, pulling at the sheriff’s arm to show him the fire. He had the ring of keys in hand!
Hanne moved toward him. All around her, people were calling and shouting about the fire. Owen came to her side, and they moved in tandem toward the sheriff.
But the sheriff swore and pulled away from Sissel. He stepped back into the jail and then returned without the keys.
“The keys,” Hanne said to Owen.
“Inside,” Owen finished.
The sheriff started shouting directions to the men gathering quickly on the street below. Patrons began to stumble out of the front door of the hotel, coughing.