Page 4

CHAPTER 4

The thirty-second day since the men’s shipwreck on the island of H?y

The dream came again.

‘Twas ever the same, yet always shifting, preventing J?rgen from making sense of what he saw. Stumbling in darkness, he breathed the rancid aroma of rotting meat. Low voices chanted, and through the gloom, he beheld a pool of water. A chalice was dipped within, then thrust his way. Against his will, his fingers were forced to take its stem.

“Drink!” The order was hissed from the shadows, the cup rising to his lips. There, its rim pressed, tipping liquid into his mouth.

Nay!

The protest filled his mind even as the fluid slipped down his throat. He sensed that whatever he drank would cause him ill. As his stomach cramped, doubling him over, he knew he must escape the chanting voices and the dank, enclosing walls.

“Nay!” The word burst from his lips.

Sweat-slicked, he bolted upright in the bed, fighting to control the blood pounding through his veins. Frantically, he reached for the woman at his side.

Astrid.

The relief was immense. She was there. He was safe.

Astrid’s cool hand found him. “You had the dream again?”

He said nothing. He hated waking that way, head-fogged with madness, and as badly as he yearned for Astrid’s comfort, he didn’t want to infect her with his dark lunacy.

She stroked his cheek. “Please, I want to help.”

Snaking his arm about her waist, he drew her close. “If you want to soothe me, give me something else to think about.”

His staff was already swelling, nestling against the soft fur of her mound. However, when his fingers crept to the warm place betwixt her thighs, she snapped them closed.

“We must talk!” She sounded affronted. “How can I help you otherwise?”

He sighed, certain she could not.

No one could erase the grim images in his head. They’d plagued him since he’d washed up on this shore, and neither mead nor her warm confines dispelled them.

“The only help I need is the solace of your body.” He kissed her shoulder, yearning for more of her.

Her tone was emphatic. “Not now, J?rgen. I’m worried about you.”

He turned away from her concern. The last thing he sought was pity.

“Let me fetch, Frida.” She slipped from the bed before he could counter her. “She can interpret your dreams. ‘Twould mayhap ease your turmoil.”

He was doubtful, but watching Astrid draw on her gunna and shawl, he conceded the battle. She had a determined streak when her mind was set upon something, and she’d bring Frida whatever he might say.

There would be no more rest or pleasure until Astrid had her way.

Frida came surprisingly swiftly.

Astrid made him dress, then settled him on a stool before taking herself outside. For her sake alone, he consented to the farce.

Let her friend pretend some all-seeing skill. He would go along with it, then take Astrid back to bed as soon as they were done.

“Still your thoughts.” The diminutive Frida pressed her palm to his. “Place yourself in the dream. I sense things. Maybe, I can…”

J?rgen grimaced. To recall those harrowing scenes was the last thing he desired, and he was resentful of being asked.

“You’re concentrating?” Frida’s eyes were closed, but he kept his open, observing the crease between her brows.

He made efforts to keep his mind blank. Nonetheless, the dark crept in. ‘Twas impossible to hold it back. With it came the feeling of dread, of wracking agony, the compulsion to run from that place. He knew none of it was real, yet it gripped his heart and squeezed.

Frida took a sharp intake of breath. “So much anger! There’s pain… and fear. A confined place. The air is dank.”

He swallowed. “What else?”

For some moments more, she held his hand tightly. Then, unexpectedly, she snatched hers away.

“Glimpses of the past; nothing more.” She shook her head. “Forget what you’ve seen. What’s gone by cannot hurt us.”

Scowling, he rubbed his temple. ‘Twas hardly as if he wanted to be visited by nightmares.

As to them being scenes from bygone days, from where she garnered that conclusion, he knew not. They certainly weren’t memories of his own past.

“Tell me.” She looked at him intently. “Have you dreamed of anything else ?” She hesitated. “Of some… catastrophe?”

“What?” he asked, though he’d heard perfectly well. “What catastrophe?”

Frida wrapped her arms about herself. She was shivering.

“There’s fire.” Her eyes sought his, and he saw terror there—enough to send prickles over his skin. “Flames and smoke. People screaming.”

“Nay! Naught like that.” Shuddering, he drew back, unsettled. Perhaps she really could see what was past or what was to come.

Nausea swelled, as if he might vomit.

What she’d spoken of was more horrifying than even his visions.

He needed to get out into the air, away from her and the hut.

Frida feigned a smile, though her face was ashen. “That’s… good. I’ll take my leave, but please, if you see anything more, send for me. I would know of it. I must know.”

She slipped out then, leaving him alone and shaken.

“J?rgen?” Astrid dashed inside. “Frida seemed… upset?”

“That woman has problems of her own!” His answer was curt. “She was no help to me.” He bit his tongue against berating Astrid for bringing her to him. “But you’re right that I need to discover the truth.”

He could abide no more of the torment—night after night, waking, drenched in sweat, pressed upon by the shadows of his dreams.

The madness had to end.

“‘Tis surely the trauma of the shipwreck,” Astrid offered.

“You don’t believe that any more than I. What has the wreck to do with that place I see? Ungodly, dark—a cave, perhaps—where the smell of death hangs heavy in the air.” He surveyed her face for some hint of recognition, but Astrid diverted her gaze.

“There are many caves on the island, but I prefer to be on the sea, in the light and fresh air.”

Urgently, he clasped her hand, pulling her to him. “I’ve seen a beach during these night terrors, too. No sandy dunes nor a bay but shingled, with steep rising cliffs.” It was all so vivid. “You know of such a place?”

“I may.” She eased her fingers away. “But it’s not somewhere we should visit. There’s bad energy there. I’d rather we didn’t speak of it.”

As harrowing as the dreams were, he knew there was only one way to rid himself of them. He needed to find the place and discover its dark truth.

“Don’t argue with me.” His tone was resolute. “If you know where this cave is, Astrid, then take me there.”