Page 7

CHAPTER 7

Astrid’s scream rang piercingly through the chamber.

This can’t be happening! Please, Freyja, no!

Dropping to her knees, she scrabbled for the lamp. It had fallen from his hand as J?rgen had keeled over but, by some miracle, hadn’t extinguished. Cupping her hand around the taper, she brought it close, willing that there was enough oil left in the reservoir to maintain the flame.

“J?rgen! Wake up!” She shook him and patted his cheek. Her head was muddled, and she sensed nausea rising, but she couldn’t let herself think about that. She needed to get them both out, and that meant acting fast.

She lowered her ear to J?rgen’s mouth.

Was he breathing? ‘Twas hard to tell, for her own was erratic. However, a gentle stir reassured her.

“You must wake up! You must!” Desperately, she yanked his hair, then pinched his nose.

That brought on a splutter, and his eyes flew open.

Thank the gods!

Somehow, she got his arm over her shoulder and wrestled him to a sitting position.

“Get up, J?rgen. That’s an order. On your feet!”

He murmured something as she helped heave him upright.

“That’s it. Now walk!” He was deadweight leaning on her, barely shuffling, his boots scuffing the ground as she half-carried him.

She couldn’t carry the lamp, but finding the way back wasn’t hard. She kept close to the wall, and before long, the distant beacon of the tunnel’s entrance became visible.

Gritting her teeth, she pushed on, telling herself that the squeezing in her chest and the thump in her head were a good thing. Those discomforts told her she was alive, and she was determined to keep it that way.

Keep stepping. One more. One more. You’re almost there.

‘Twas within sight of the beach that J?rgen collapsed again, taking Astrid down alongside. That time, there was no reviving him.

Sobbing, cursing, she linked her arms beneath his, clasping fast around his chest. Summoning all her might, she dragged his prostrate form the final, short distance.

At last, wasted and weary, she reached daylight and crumpled to the ground. Coughing and heaving, she deposited the contents of her stomach. For some moments, she lay, resting her head upon the stones, waiting for the nausea to subside.

But she could ill afford to indulge her feelings of sickness.

Again, she checked his breathing.

‘Twas shallow, but steady.

Thank the gods, she’d been less affected than he. If they’d both succumbed to the putrid air in the cave…

At first, she’d thought herself only faint with fear and revulsion, but when J?rgen succumbed, she could deny the truth no longer. Something foul occupied the place, and ‘twould have claimed them both had she not moved quickly.

I must get him to Elin. She’ll know what to do.

He’ll be fine once he’s away from this place.

She couldn’t allow herself to think otherwise.

The thought of J?rgen suffering as her father had done.

The thought of him… dying.

Nay. It shall not be!

Her shoulders ached, and her legs could barely support her, but she managed to drag him again, aided that time by the steep slope of the shingle, his body slithering over sea-smoothed pebbles. Reaching the boat, she angled it upon its side and rolled him within.

He grunted as she did so, and she arranged him as comfortably as she could before taking up her flask for a draught of water. Dabbing some upon J?rgen’s lips, he moaned. She cast droplets upon his face, lifted his eyelids, shook him again, and begged him to wake—all without success.

Astrid bit back her tears. Giving in to despair wouldn’t help. No matter her exhaustion, she needed to launch the boat, then take up the oars.

Almighty Freyja, help me!

Settling the boat upright again, she directed all her weight at the stern, then stumbled, falling to her knees. The vessel skated over the pebbles, gaining momentum.

As it hit the lapping waves, becoming buoyant, she gave a sob of thanks. Once it was over, she’d offer the greatest of libations to the goddess. Scrabbling the last few steps, she splashed through the water and levered herself into the boat.

Astrid was used to rowing, but she’d strained herself hefting J?rgen from the depths of the cave, and her muscles burned.

The sun was less intense, masked by gauzy clouds, but the sea’s current was against her, and the wind would be, too, once she rounded the headland. She risked drifting out to the open sea.

J?rgen was still inert, though several times, she’d thought he might rouse.

Was he dreaming of the cave? The contortion of his features, interspersed with occasional moans, told her it was likely. Another good sign, she decided. If his mind could conjure dreams, then it would return to the sentient world, eventually.

There was a place within sight where crags jutted from the cliff in a low curve. They weren’t overly jagged, and the water was deep—a haven for a while.

Pulling hard on her right side, she brought the prow about.

Having stowed the oars and thrown a loop of rope around a protrusion of rock, Astrid slumped forward, finally allowing herself respite.

What was I thinking, bringing him out here? I should have known no good would come of it.

She looked up as J?rgen sighed and shifted slightly. Moving from the rowing bench to sit in the cradle of the boat, Astrid took his head in her arms. She raised the upper portion of his body, and his lips parted. He murmured something.

Hurriedly, she uncorked the water pouch and touched it to his mouth. When he took a little of the liquid, swallowing it down, her tears pricked.

Mighty Freyja was certainly watching over them.

She sent him to me, and she wants J?rgen to live.

A flicker of his lids and J?rgen’s eyes opened. He blinked, attempting to focus on her face.

“You’re safe.” Her pulse beat extraordinarily fast as she consoled him. “I won’t let anything hurt you.”

It was a strange position to be in—her looking after him. He was so much stronger and more experienced. It was supposed to be the other way around—a man protected his woman, risked his life for her if need be.

Perhaps J?rgen would.

Of course, he would.

If I’d been the one to falter, he’d have carried me out.

He’d have endured any pain to save me.

Was that wishful thinking?

“What happened? The walls were closing in. That smell! And… dead things…”

“Stay still,” Astrid soothed. “You didn’t dream it… not this time. We were in the cave.”

Glancing about, he took in their surroundings, and his confusion was obvious. “I don’t remember…”

“You staggered most of the way back before fainting.”

He frowned, clearly trying to gather the memory. “Then… you dragged me?” Incredulity echoed in his tone.

It was reasonable. Sheer will alone had given her the tenacity. Nevertheless, she had her pride.

“I’m used to hauling nets of fish. You think I can’t lug you a few steps?”

He raised his brows at that. “You’re stronger than you look.”

“Barely.” She offered him the water again. “I was dizzy, weak in the legs, nauseous. I retched on the beach.”

J?rgen drank, then reached for her hand. “You saved us both. It must have been difficult—even with these fisherwoman muscles you boast of.” His mouth quirked with the hint of a smile, but it faded just as swiftly. “You tried to warn me. We could have died there, like those...”

“Hush.” Astrid clasped her other hand atop his. “I think… I needed to see the place as much as you did. It was haunting your dreams, and it did mine, though in a different way. My father told me more than I shared with you. I suspected something in that cave caused the illness—that which befell our men. Now we know. Whatever it is resides in that cavern.”

J?rgen shook his head. “‘Tis no monster, merely some foulness in the air. Your men lingered there too long, or mayhap the effect was cumulative.”

“‘Twas their secret gathering place, and no woman was supposed to know of it. Sometimes, they were gone several days, taking with them provisions, but they can’t have stayed within the cave all that time.” She shuddered. “They must have used the beach, camped there, venturing into the cave for some part of their rituals.”

“The cup… I saw it in those nightmarish visions, handed one to the other. Flames lighting their faces and then wracking pain. What were they drinking? Some concoction of forest mushrooms?”

“I know not.” Astrid shook her head. Her father had never mentioned such a thing.

“Although, ‘twould not explain the bats.” J?rgen rubbed at his forehead. “Unless the vile air is a recent pollution. Those creatures have not been dead so very long.”

Slipping her hands from his, Astrid looked away.

“Are you keeping something back? Astrid, tell me!” He clasped her by the elbows, his expression vehement.

“Stop!” She tried to wrestle free, but he was too strong. “You’re hurting!”

“I need to understand! You must see!” He kept hold of her, though less roughly.

Will knowing make him only more curious? Will it draw him back, taking the others with him? Men like their secrets, their own gathering times, their rituals—just as women do. Except women aren’t so foolish as to court danger. They have families to raise, children who depend upon them…

Children.

There will be no more children—not without these men.

She sensed J?rgen might return to the cave, even after what had happened, unless she warned him properly. The secret needed to remain so, for everyone’s sake—but she’d have to confide in J?rgen.

“There’s a sacred pool, somewhere deeper in the cave—fed by a spring. It’s said to originate from the kingdom of the Dokkálfar , deep in the hillside.”

“The dark ones.” J?rgen looked grim. “They who send mischief and disease to humankind? And your men drank from this pool?”

Astrid squirmed. “Perhaps the bats did, too.”

“And yet, ‘twas only the last occasion on which the drinking of it made your men so very sick…”

She could tell what he was thinking—that she was still holding something back, some puzzle piece that would make sense of this horror.

“I know naught else. I swear to Freyja! The last time the men were there was for the álfablót ritual. Perhaps the dark ones were displeased with their offerings. Truly, I’m as lost as you. If the water and air inside the cave have become corrupted, I know not when it happened nor why.”

“ álfablót.” A shadow passed over J?rgen’s features. He let go his hold upon Astrid. “The time when the veil is thinnest between the dead and living, when we beg protection of our ancestors. And to that place they gathered, one they believed holds a portal, of sorts… where water flows from the dark realm to this.”

Astrid made no answer.

There was none to give.

An evil they didn’t comprehend lurked in the cavern, and if J?rgen wasn’t careful, it might yet have a fresh sacrifice.