Night Bells by L.M. Sherwin
Chapter Sixteen
In which a boy has become a man…
Late in the month of Heyannir, 907 PAE (Post Ancient Earth)
Summer soon would end and the winter snows loomed on everyone’s minds. Lord Maslyn drummed his stylus on his desk while he waited for the insufferable merchant in his office to agree to stop cheating his customers. The man was a pox on everyone else’s businesses since he sold cheap goods for exorbitant prices. Each week, Soryn had some wronged villager in his office complaining about the miser. Finally, Lord Maslyn could stand it no longer and just wanted everyone to shut up about the situation. That is why he had called Knut into his office that morning. The fool’s shady business practices would end immediately.
“Lord Maslyn, sir, let me tell you why it is that I run my business in the manner that I do—” Knut began, but Soryn cut him off.
“I’m not interested, Knut. I’ve heard from nearly every villager and merchant in town. You’re a cheat and your goods are in such poor condition that they endanger the lives of the people who use them! You’re a ship materials seller, for heaven’s sake! What could happen if one of your mooring lines snapped and ended up killing someone because it could not perform its proper function? No, Knut. I’m not interested in your defense. Either sell your goods at a reasonable price or find a new supplier that will provide you with quality materials. End of story. If I find out you haven’t done as I’ve asked, I’ll have your merchant’s license revoked, permanently. You’ll never do business in New Kristiansand again.”
“Yes, sir,” Knut grumbled under his breath, sweating from the pressure of the Maslyn’s glare.
“Now, be off with you and start fixing what you’ve broken. You have a lot of angry patrons to appease,” Soryn demanded, flicking both hands in the direction of the door.
Knut mumbled his way to the door and slammed it shut when he left. Soryn groaned and rubbed his forehead. Father Kimbli was ill and had not been able to assist Soryn in his mayoral duties for almost a month. Though Soryn, being a man now, was quite used to running the village alone, it was nice to have Kimbli around so he could take a break every now and then. He wanted to go help Stigg, Fanndis, and Valkyrie with their cottage repairs before the winter snows came in full. He wanted to sit with Arna and talk to her.
He endured three other meetings until it was time for him to move on to his other daily duties. Jori waited in the tower to assist Lord Maslyn with his afternoon paperwork. After his meetings, Soryn had to review all the treaties and licensing requests, and other flotsam and jetsam that had to be signed and documented. It was tedious work and Soryn always grew cranky by the end of it. The only thing that gave him pleasure was saddling Sable and galloping into the woods to visit the cottage.
That day, as the suns were sinking low on the horizon, Soryn decided to walk to the cottage to let his head clear. All the guards waved at him on his way out and even told him some jokes—they were about his age, after all. Soryn was surprised at how many people were comfortable with him as their village leader. He was only sixteen—but since boys became men at fifteen, he had been a legal adult for over a year. It was nice to be treated with respect and support, though he was still very young. Stigg still treated him like a boy and had grown so disagreeable to work with over the last three years that Soryn was just about to explode from frustration.
Fanndis always tried to assure Soryn that Stigg was just sad and irritated with himself that he still had not found Fenris. Soryn didn’t care. He never wanted to see Fenris ever again and he silently wished about twenty times a day that Stigg would not ever find him. Perhaps that was why the older man always grunted when Soryn asked a question or when he did not perform his chores well. Stigg was a proud person. Perhaps he knew that Soryn did not approve of his tracking activities.
Ulf had become a great friend and confidant. It was hard for Soryn to view him as his brother when he looked like a wolf, but he and Ulf had developed a deep camaraderie and it was nice for him to have someone to talk to that did not always want something from him or have something critical to say about his actions. Ulf and his pack—for his pups were all grown now and several other wolf families had joined them in their den—guarded the greenhouse well. Whenever unsuspecting travelers tried to investigate the unusual structure in the forest, the pack could be counted upon to frighten the poor people off.
When Soryn broke through the tree line and into the clearing where the cottage rested, he saw Valkyrie and Fanndis out in the front yard tying bundles of thatch. The roof had gotten old and everyone had agreed it was time to replace it before the winter snows. It was backbreaking work and Soryn and Stigg got the worst of it, having to lay thatching on the roof across the rafters. Still, working with his hands was always preferable to working with the mind and Soryn relished physical activities. It helped get his thoughts off of Arna who was still in a coma, resting in her room. He never stopped thinking about her. In all his spare time, Soryn researched methods for locating wandering spirits or medical dictionaries for waking coma patients. He had found nothing in the last three years; neither had Fanndis, Valkyrie, or Stigg.
“Hi-oh, Lord Maslyn!” Valkyrie waved—she had become such an annoying, perky human being of late. It was unnatural to be so happy all the time, in Soryn’s opinion.
“Hello, Soryn,” Fanndis said, smiling.
“Hello,” he muttered.
“Bad day?” she asked.
“Annoying, frustrating, soul-killing…,” he sighed. “Yes, a bad day.”
“Cheer up! A whole roof worth of thatching waits for you! Just the thing to get your mind off your frustrations!” Valkyrie beamed, trying to rub his unhappiness in his face (or so Soryn thought).
“Valkyrie…could you tone it down just a bit?” Soryn narrowed his eyes.
“Well, excuse me if I’m not as glum as the rest of you lot all the time. I think it would do you some good to cheer up.”
“Hnn,” was all Soryn uttered in reply.
Stigg motioned for Lord Maslyn to come on up to the roof and Soryn waved back. First, he went into the cottage and dropped his coat by the hearth. Then, he walked through the kitchen and out the back to see Arna, who had been sleeping in her new room for the majority of the last three years. He opened her door and saw that Stigg had opened her windows, made a small fire, and put flowers out on her desk.
He knew it was Stigg who had done these things because he always picked wildflowers, whereas Fanndis or Valkyrie often chose more cultivated varieties from the greenhouse. Soryn knew Stigg cared deeply about her, though the older man never spoke of it. Soryn looked over at Arna, lying there in the bed. Her blondish, brown hair had grown very long over the years and it curled slightly here and there. Her skin was pale like fresh winter snow. His heart gave an uncomfortable lurch. Every time he looked at her it was the same: a sea of regret.
His fingers brushed over her hair and smoothed it away from her face. He hoped that his touch would somehow bring her back, but each time he drew his hand away disappointed.
“Soryn!” Stigg barked from above.
“Coming,” he mumbled too soft for Stigg to hear.
He left the door open for Arna, more habit than anything. At least the fresh air would do her a bit of good. The temperature had already started dropping to the customarily frigid winter norms. Soryn shivered a bit as he climbed the ladder propped against the slope of the roof.
Sweat trickled down Stigg’s bare back and he carried two bundles of thatch under his left arm as he tiptoed down the ridgepole of the roof. Soryn followed behind and helped the man without any instruction. Though he and Stigg did not talk much, they worked together in a seamless cadence. Perhaps it was more due to familiarity of work patterns than communication of any kind. They worked until time for dinner when the women called them in. They had almost finished half the re-thatching by that time. If it was a clear night, the light from Niflheim’s three moons would allow them to get it all done.
Talk at dinner was less lively than usual. Everyone could tell Soryn was in a sour mood. Ulf and Nora had dropped by earlier to deliver several rabbits for the stew. Even the addition of meat (a rare presence at the table, even in summer) did not brighten the evening. By the time the meal was over, Valkyrie and Fanndis had decided to find some way to bring a smile to Lord Maslyn’s face. While the men went back up on the roof, the two women took a stroll to the greenhouse.
“I wonder if he’ll ever snap out of it.” Fanndis sighed.
“Snap out of what?” Valkyrie inquired.
“This stupor he has about his life. It’s like when Arna went into the coma, he did as well. He’s just been so detached for so long. He rarely speaks unless it is to grumble about something. He’s more like Stigg than he knows. Stigg has changed much of late as well,” Fanndis explained.
“She may still wake up, you know,” Valkyrie said pointedly.
“Yes, but…” Fanndis hesitated.
“But what?” Valkyrie prompted.
“I just don’t want either of them to get their hopes up. She could be like that for quite some time. Years more perhaps. Maybe forever,” Fanndis admitted.
“Mm.”
The greenhouse was always a welcome diversion. It was full of life and green beauty. They spent time pruning overgrown areas and more time picking ripened fruits and vegetables. Their baskets were full when they walked back. On their way through the moonlight, they spotted Ulf and some wolves in his pack. Both women waved and they were surprised when Ulf turned towards them and ran.
“What’s the matter, Olan?” Fanndis asked.
We think we may have found something, Ulf told her.
“Like what?” Valkyrie asked, her heart racing.
Something that could be related to Arna.
“Where?!” Fanndis shouted.
Towards the base of the mountain. Do you have time to follow me? Ulf inquired.
Fanndis and Valkyrie glanced at one another and nodded. The wolves trotted at a pace the humans could follow. Though the night was well upon them, the three moons gave plenty of light to pick their way through the forest. The base of the mountain was very distinct and almost a straight climb up. Both women were thankful the wolf had said towards the base of the mountain and not in the mountains.
It was not long before they each saw what Ulf had been talking about. A hot spring bubbled up near the bottom of a cliff face. There in the water was a strange illusion—or so Fanndis thought at first. It appeared to be a young boy but on closer inspection, Valkyrie noticed the figure was far too womanly and the hair was simply cropped short.
“My God…” Fanndis started.
There in the water was Arna, naked and bathing in the spring. Her body had a soft glow all around it and Fanndis thought she could clearly see through it to the rock face. It was as though they were staring at a ghost. Ulf and the wolves crouched low and stepped soundlessly through the underbrush.
“Arna,” Fanndis whispered.
“It’s her spirit,” Valkyrie confirmed.
Fanndis skirted down the path to the spring and saw Arna’s spirit reach into the water, bring its arms up, and smooth the air down its skin as though it were washing. She wondered if the spirit really thought it was getting wet at all.
“Arna?” Fanndis tried again.
The apparition turned her head. A confused expression haunted the girl’s face. She looked just like Arna did three years ago.
Fanndis? Arna’s spirit mouthed the words, but the sound was in Fanndis’ head.
“It’s me, Arna. Where have you been?” Fanndis asked, as calmly as possible.
Been? I’m here, she replied in dreamy tones.
“Yes I can see that you’re here, but…you’ve been in a coma for three years!”
Has it been that long? The spirit looked up at the moons above.
“Yes it has. Soryn has been worried sick about you,” Valkyrie spoke up.
My…and here I was…all this time…
“You’ve been in the hot spring for three years?” Fanndis asked, disbelief clear in her voice.
No…I’ve been here in this form, wandering…not knowing where I was. I was lost, Fanndis. I couldn’t find my way back. I saw the other side of the world…the southern mountains…the oceans…the great frozen rivers…I didn’t realize I had come so close to home…It is strange…being…unfettered. The spirit looked down at the water and continued to “wash”.
“Unfettered?” Valkyrie prompted.
When I performed the spell, I felt my own spirit slip away, so I forced my spirit to fly and I lost track of time and space. It has felt like centuries and, at other times, only hours…it is strange…I am free to go where I wish…though I have begun to get homesick…
“For your own body?” Valkyrie inquired.
No…for Soryn…
“Come home with us, Arna,” Fanndis coaxed, motioning for Arna to follow them with her hands.
Home?
“To the cottage. Soryn is there. He longs to see you,” Valkyrie joined in the plea.
Home. Yes…I will come…
Fanndis and Valkyrie kept their backs to the forest and faced Arna’s spirit. They beckoned to her with their hands. Eventually, Arna’s spirit walked onto the shore of the hot spring and followed the two women. Valkyrie doubled around the apparition and walked behind her so that Fanndis could look where she was going. Fanndis turned around and walked ahead. They kept Arna’s shade between them.
Neither had experienced an incorporeal form before. It was strange seeing the girl in this way. Her lithe figure looked entirely carefree as she gazed about at the stars and trees. Each older woman wondered how the girl had changed in three years of “unfettered” wandering. It took longer to get back to the cottage, but the women had to take care not to rush the spirit—for she was bemused by many things in the woods: a frosted leaf here, an ice-capped bud there. They had to guide her back to the present often, reminding her that Soryn waited for her.
When they did reach the cottage, a heavy cloud of smoke billowed out of the chimney. The men had finished with the thatching. Fanndis and Valkyrie gave one another a look. It would be best to reunite Arna’s spirit with her body first, before Soryn or Stigg saw her. Valkyrie opened the door to Arna’s room and marveled as the spirit lifted her hands and attempted to touch the stones that made up her extension of the house. She even went so far as to rest her head against the stones.
Soryn made this place…
“And Stigg,” Fanndis added.
Stigg…Soryn…
Valkyrie cleared her throat, prompting Fanndis to usher the spirit girl inside the room. Arna’s shade tiptoed towards her physical body and ran her hands up the covers. When the spirit’s hands brushed Arna’s face, sparks of light popped upwards and Arna’s spirit faded as her fleshly body reclaimed it. Fanndis and her companion held their breath—not daring to release it until they knew Arna had returned to herself. Arna’s human body seemed to change in color; it looked brighter, fuller somehow. Within moments, they saw the chest lift and fall rhythmically as though she had merely been sleeping and not in a coma. Fanndis reached out a hand to Arna’s skin and it felt miraculously warm and fully alive.
“Oh, Valkyrie…she’s come back.” Fanndis felt tears pool at the corners of her eyes and she knelt on the side of the bed weeping.
Valkyrie patted her friend’s back and laid her other hand on Arna’s shoulder. Arna’s eyes fluttered a bit, opening. She looked around her little room and at the old women gawking at her.
“Fanndis?” she asked, her voice hoarse and dry from years of silence.
“Arna! You’ve come back to us…” Fanndis could not even begin to stop the flow of her tears. It was as though her long lost daughter had returned.
“Come back? Have I been somewhere?” Arna inquired, looking about at her surroundings with puzzlement.
“You’ve been in a co
“Three years? How can that be? I remember the spell…I remember…What happened? Did it work?!” Arna queried, trying to sit up and coughing at the effort it took to speak and to move.
“Don’t rush yourself. You haven’t been out of this bed in a long time, girl. You mustn’t overdo it,” Fanndis chided with a smile.
“Yes, it worked,” Valkyrie began. “But we had to quickly undo what was done for Olan.”
“Olan was Ulla after all?” Arna asked.
“No. Ulla was Fenris and he tried to do you great harm. If Stigg hadn’t made it in time…We weren’t quite sure what would have become of you,” Fanndis answered.
“What about Olan?”
“Olan was Ulf—your wolf friend. We were all surprised as well, but he could not stand being human in the end. Valkyrie paid him a great kindness in returning him to his wolf form. We burned his human body shortly after. He wanted nothing to do with his humanity after all the painful memories it brought back. Besides, he had his family to think of. All his pups are grown now. Derik still visits often and asks about you,” Fanndis continued.
“What happened to Fenris?” Arna asked, anger bubbling up inside her.
“We haven’t seen him since. He escaped the same night of the spell and Stigg has been searching for him high and low to no avail. It’s as though he simply vanished,” Valkyrie supplied.
“I messed everything up didn’t I?” Arna felt miserable.
“No, dear one. You were trying to make right something that just didn’t really need to be fixed. Your heart was in the right place, your motivations pure. It is Soryn who has truly suffered since. He and Ulf were able to become friends and brothers again, now that he knows Ulf is Olan, but he blames himself for what happened to you,” Valkyrie explained.
“Idiot. It was my decision to perform the spell,” Arna scowled.
“Yes, but it was Soryn who asked you to do it. He longed so much for his lost family. He has never been the same since the night of the spell. All the hope has been driven out of him. It’s like he didn’t even wish to go on living in the world if you were not in it with him. He has visited you and talked with you every day since it happened. I expect your return will cause him great reason to celebrate and live again,” Fanndis hoped.
“He’s here?” she whispered.
“Yes. Would you like to see him?” Fanndis inquired.
“Yes, please,” the girl nodded.
Fanndis and Valkyrie grunted with the effort of carrying Arna’s weak body into the main cottage. Though the girl tried to get up on her own, it proved to be a useless endeavor—they imagined her muscles had atrophied from being unused for so long. It would take a while for the girl to regain her strength. When Fanndis nodded, Valkyrie used her free hand to open the door from the kitchen to the main room. Stigg and Soryn sat reading and smoking their twin pipes.
“Ahem,” Fanndis cleared her throat.
Soryn saw her first. He shot up, knocking over his chair in his surprise. Stigg, too, stood and gaped at Arna’s conscious state.
“Arna…my God…” Stigg whispered.
“Yes, we must praise heaven for this miracle!” Valkyrie exclaimed.
Both men walked towards her and marveled at her beaming cheeks and bright eyes. Arna soaked it all in—admiring each of them and studying their aged faces. Soryn was a man now and he had a strong look about him that had replaced the childish features of his younger days. Stigg looked much the same but with a few more lines on his weathered face.
“Hello,” Arna finally said.
The men let out the breath they had been holding in and laughed as they reached for the girl. She was swallowed by their embraces and giggled at the attention.
“Don’t break me,” she laughed.
Soryn’s heart was full and warm for the first time in ages. It was like the first time he and Arna had gone down the passage in the tower together and shared in the sun spire’s warmth. He had not realized how dead he had felt until she had come back to life. He needed to touch her to make sure she was real.
“Soryn,” Arna said, looking up at him with vibrant eyes. “I have missed you.”
Soryn reached out his hand and stroked the long hair away from her face. Her skin was warm and full of health. A tear rolled down his cheek.
“Arna,” he said, bringing her hand up to his own face, weeping.
Stigg was crying, too. His arm rested around the girl’s shoulders. As he gazed at her, he poured all the love he could into his eyes—hoping she knew how much she meant to him. Joy filled every corner of his being that she was awake and healthy.
“Stigg, I hope you’ve been getting along fine without me?” she teased.
“Just fine now that you’re back,” Stigg admitted.
Valkyrie and Fanndis found their arms were giving away on them and the old women appealed to Soryn to take their young charge. He obliged, a huge smile spreading over his lips, and held her between his two strong arms. Arna marveled at his muscles.
“These are new,” she giggled, touching his biceps.
“Stigg’s been working me to death while you’ve been away.” Soryn blushed at her mention of his physical strength. He had changed quite a bit while she had been in the coma.
“Stigg, didn’t I tell you not to work too hard?” Arna smiled at him.
Stigg blushed and shrugged. His heart was overjoyed that she was alive and happy, but it broke a little to hear her praising Soryn in such a loving manner. He knew that she loved the boy, and he wanted to be happy for the two of them, but he brushed those thoughts from his mind and concentrated on cheering up. Despite all he felt, he knew that Arna would not want him to be sad.
Soryn carried Arna to the chair by the hearth and held her as he sat down. He figured the fire’s warmth would do her good. Stigg sat after he set his chair back on four legs. The women collapsed in the other vacant seats, laughing at their exhaustion after carrying Arna’s small body into the house.
“How did this happen?” Stigg looked up at his mother.
“Well, Ulf and some members of his pack came to find us, because something strange was in the woods near the base of the mountain. We followed them to the hot spring and Arna’s spirit was there, in the water. It was the first incorporeal spirit I had seen,” admitted Valkyrie. “But we knew it was Arna, because, though we could see through her, it looked just like she did years ago before the coma. We were able to talk to her spirit and get it to come back with us.”
“You saw her spirit?” Soryn remarked, surprised.
“Yes,” Fanndis shivered. “It was quite an odd experience.”
“I don’t remember any of that,” Arna confessed, a frown on her delicate face.
“I suppose that a person’s spirit is somehow connected to the subconscious,” offered Fanndis.
“It’s a shame. I would have loved to remember all the wonderful things I might have seen and witnessed,” Arna sighed.
The joyous group talked and laughed well into the night. Though Arna had gone into her coma a child and awoken a woman, it felt as though nothing had changed between any of them, as though three years had passed with the blink of an eye. When night came, Soryn carried Arna to her room and made up the fire (she was far too weak for magic) and tucked her in. As he turned to go, she reached out for him and tugged his sleeve.
“Don’t go just yet,” she pleaded, her wide eyes mirroring the moonlight pouring from the open shutters.
Soryn’s heart leapt and he felt the uncomfortable flutter of anxiety in his stomach. He loved her so much and yet he did not know how to express that to her.
“Alright.” Soryn turned back toward her.
He sat on the edge of her bed and she made sure her legs were pressed up against him. Arna was so cold, she felt she might never be warm again. Soryn’s body was almost hot.
“It’s strange to see you all
“It’s strange to be called ‘Bialas’,” he said, inclining his head towards hers. “You’re the only one who calls me that, you know.”
“I like it. It’s like a special name only I know.” She smiled.
“Arna…I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am.” Soryn could not hold back his guilt any longer. Though he was overjoyed at her waking, he was overcome by his part in what had happened three years earlier.
“Don’t…”
“You don’t understand! I put you in that bed for three years. It’s my fault you were in a coma. You’ll never get those years back, Arna. Ever. All because of me,” he groaned, putting his head in his hands.
Though it was a struggle, Arna propped herself up on her arms. She laid a weak hand on his back.
“We were fooled, Bialas. Ulla was a liar and he’s responsible for this, if anyone is. You were just trying to help your brother. As it turned out, you were right. Ulla was your brother, just not the one you supposed. I bear no ill will for what we did. It was as much my decision as it was yours. Please don’t blame yourself,” she begged.
“You speak as though you didn’t lose three entire years of your life, Arna.”
“But it wasn’t as though I really noticed. For me, it’s as though I just woke up from a very long dream. I remember everything like it just happened. You can fill me in on the rest.” She wanted desperately to encourage him and get him to be the hopeful Soryn she remembered.
“There’s not much to fill you in on. I’m the Maslyn. I work in the village until late afternoon each day and then I spend my evenings here, helping them out, visiting with you. Not much to tell. Father Kimbli is ill at the moment, but recovering. He asks after you often.” Lord Maslyn shrugged.
“Hopefully my return will add some excitement to life,” she teased.
“Well, Stigg did say about five words to me today, which is a new record.”
Arna punched him in the arm for that comment, but then recoiled in pain when she realized that she was nowhere near strong enough for such displays yet.
“It is mind-boggling to have all this hair tumbling down everywhere,” Arna confessed. “That is definitely new for me. I’ve had my hair short most of my life. I think I kind of like it—”Arna stopped when Soryn suddenly ran one of his hands through her hip-length locks.
“It’s beautiful,” he corrected.
“Thank you,” she said, color rising to her cheeks.
Before he could think better of his impulse, Soryn leaned forward and kissed Arna full on the lips. Though startled at first, Arna melted into the embrace and brought her arms up around his neck. It seemed entirely right that they should be kissing. She did love him after all and she knew he loved her back. Being inexperienced at kissing, Soryn had no idea what to do after he had acted so rashly. He broke away, his face aflame, heart beating madly.
“That was a nice surprise.” Arna smiled with his taste on her lips.
“I’m so sorry. I have no idea what got into me, I-I…” Soryn was mortified at what he had done, but despite his embarrassment, he found he wanted to do it again.
Since he could not summon the words for how he felt, he hoped that a kiss would do the job. He thought he should do it again. Just so she knew what he felt for her. He looked over and she was smiling with her intoxicating prettiness and her smell—he only noticed it right at that moment. It brought memories to his mind of their escapades before her coma. She had always smelled of jasmine and lavender. Her scent comforted him, he realized, and having it back filled some hole in his heart.
“Bialas,” she prompted.
His heart was overwhelmed with love. Soryn was a man, old enough to marry, but he did not want to ask her just because they were both grown now. He did not want to ask her just because he was afraid of what might happen now that she was awake. Still, there was some underlying desperation within him. They had missed so much time—time they could have spent together over the last three years.
“I love you,” he said, gazing into her eyes.
Tears rimmed Arna’s eyes. She had loved him from the very beginning—even as a child. She knew she would never love another man. It was as though she had been reborn into a woman overnight. Three years had made her an adult while she slept. Her heart and spirit told her to move, to pursue the one she loved.
“I’ve always loved you, Bialas. It began when I was first assigned to your service in the tower. I’ve always known it would be this way between us,” Arna confessed.
He leaned forward, heart feeling as though it would explode, and nearly touched his lips to hers but first whispered, “May I kiss you again, Arna?”
Though it took considerable effort, the girl brought his face to hers and kissed him with as much passion as she could. Soryn made sure he was not crushing her and wrapped his arms about her frail body. They kissed and held each other for a long time, content to be together. When they pulled away, both were filled with a complete peace.
“When you are well, I want to take you somewhere,” Soryn said, stroking her arm.
“Where?” she replied.
“Somewhere in the mountains. It’s a special place.”
They said nothing more, simply touched hands and entwined their fingers. Soryn stayed with her until she fell asleep with a comely grin on her face. Only then did he leave her. He made sure her shutters were sealed to ward off the chill of the night air. Then, he turned towards the barn and his horse. He expected everyone else to be in bed already, so he was surprised to see Stigg sitting in the barn, leaning his back against one of the stalls.
Stigg had his knees pulled up and his forearms propped over them. He appeared more relaxed than Soryn had ever seen him. That man rested for no one. Lord Maslyn smelled alcohol—strong alcohol—and surmised that Fanndis’ son had been drinking for quite some time.
“Stigg?” Soryn attempted.
He heard the sloshing of liquid in a glass bottle that Stigg picked up, uncorked, and then drained.
“Are you alright?” Lord Maslyn prodded.
“This is happy drinking…” Stigg slurred.
“Happy drinking?”
“Couldn’t be happier that the young lady’s alive and well. Couldn’t be happier…” he said, every other word nearly unintelligible.
“Stigg, give me the bottle.” Soryn had never seen Stigg drink any alcohol over the last four years. It was unnerving. He wondered what in the world had caused him to get drunk.
“Want some?” Stigg offered.
Soryn took the empty bottle.
Lord Maslyn sat next to Stigg and saw extreme sadness in the man’s eyes, despite his declaration that he had been “happy drinking”.
“Stigg, please tell me what’s wrong. I know we don’t exactly get on that well, but I am your friend.” Soryn was worried. He wondered if he should go and fetch Fanndis or Valkyrie.
“I love her…” Stigg said, clear as a bell.
Soryn knew he meant Arna without asking. A lead weight settled into his heart. Arna loved him, not Stigg. Soryn ached for the man. He honestly had not guessed that Fanndis’ stoic son had fallen for Arna so deeply, though now that he saw the depth of Stigg’s emotion, he suspected the man had loved her this much for a long time. Even before the coma.
“Stigg…”
“But I’m happy for you and…for her…” Stigg said, concentrating on his words.
Stigg’s beard had grown unkempt over the last few days because of all the work with the roof thatching and his hair was disheveled. He looked like he had not crawled out of the village pub for days—just like a man despairing in his barn over a woman. Stigg must have been drinking for quite some time to be this inebriated.
“Stigg, come on, I’ll help you to the cottage.” Soryn stood up and extended his hand down to the man, but Stigg just patted the noble’s hands away.
“I want to stay here a while,” Stigg declared, looking at noth
“Alright,” Soryn relented.
As Lord Maslyn turned to leave, he saw out of his peripheral vision a solitary tear roll down Stigg’s cheek. Fanndis’ son closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wood of the stall. More tears followed the previous one and Soryn felt a swelling of pity in his chest. He knew he needed to leave. Since Soryn did not see any other bottles, he figured no harm would come to Stigg if he went in and told Fanndis what had happened. Thankfully, both women were up and sitting by the fire when he entered from the back kitchen door.
“Soryn, we thought you’d gone,” Valkyrie said.
“No, Arna and I talked a while and then I went to the barn to saddle up my horse. When I got there, I found Stigg with this.” He extended the depleted vodka bottle towards Fanndis. The woman eyed it with a moderate degree of skepticism.
“But Stigg doesn’t drink,” Fanndis said, perplexed as she took it from Soryn.
“Well, he must have forgotten that he doesn’t drink. He’s about to pass out, I think. He’s sitting in front of Ivan’s stall,” Soryn informed them.
The two women sat still, not really knowing what to say. Their silence was interrupted by a strange sound. It was coming from outside, from the direction of the barn. Fanndis and Valkyrie strained their ears to listen and could make out words.
“He’s drunk! And singing!” Valkyrie exclaimed, putting a hand to her chest.
“Oh dear…” Fanndis sighed. “I’ll go get him. Wait here. I may need your help, Soryn.”
“Alright.”
“Be careful, Fanndis,” Valkyrie cautioned.
“He’s my own son. He won’t hurt me.”
“Have you ever seen him drunk before?” Valkyrie interjected.
“Well, no, but I saw his father quite intoxicated many a time and he was never violent. I’m sure Stigg means no one any harm. I know what caused this.” Fanndis rolled her eyes, heading out the back door.
Soryn tried changing the subject, “Valkyrie, who is Stigg’s father?”
“Oh, him? He was a fisherman down in the village. One winter, he was very ill and Fanndis tended to him. I suppose they grew to be good friends, although nothing more came of their relationship, except for Stigg and the daughter that passed on in her infancy. Fanndis remembers him fondly, but the fisherman died at sea some years ago. Stigg never speaks of him, as far as I can piece together. I think he may have died while she was carrying Stigg’s little sister. She doesn’t talk about him that much,” Valkyrie replied, looking away.
Soryn rubbed a hand through his hair, scratching his scalp with the pads of his fingers. Being so happy and yet so sad and confused at the same time was taking a toll on the young man. He slouched in the chair nearest the hearth and exhaled.
“What’s wrong, lad?” Valkyrie inquired.
“Honestly, no offense, Valkyrie, but I don’t want to talk about things right now. I just need a minute to process everything,” he admitted, hoping she would not be angry.
“I understand. I think I already have an idea of what’s going on. I’m not as unobservant as all that.” Valkyrie went back to the knitting that Soryn had not noticed before.
They heard some rather destructive sounding noises from the direction of the back door. Soryn stood up to help Fanndis. A loud crash prompted him to hurry. Soryn opened the door. Stigg collapsed through the threshold onto the floor, snoring. Fanndis panted and heaved her hands on her hips. Stigg’s mother shook her head as she looked at one of her favorite clay pitchers in several pieces all over the floor.
“I may skin him alive when he wakes up,” she spat.
Fanndis sat down at the table and sighed, putting her head in her hands. “Soryn, I’ve never seen him like this,” she confessed.
Soryn felt responsible, like it was his fault that Stigg had fallen in love with Arna. Knowing it was nonsense, he sat down next to Fanndis and wrapped his arm around her.
“He’s in love with Arna,” he stated the obvious.
“I know. He told me some time ago, but I thought it would fade. I suppose I don’t know my own son very well,” she smirked.
“He’s never been drunk before? Ever?” Soryn raised an eyebrow looking at the unconscious man on the floor. “He seemed an expert tonight.”
“He delved into the pub with me when he was about your age. I bought him a drink, but Stigg promptly spat it out on the ground raving about its terrible taste,” she chuckled. “I guess he got over it once he started tonight, though. We’ll have to hide all of my medicinal vodka, just in case.”
“I’m sorry, Fanndis. Somehow, I feel like this is my fault,” Soryn mumbled.
“What, that my son’s a fool for falling in love with someone half his age? Soryn, that’s just idiocy and you know it. Stigg knew better and I told him so, myself.”
“You did?”
“Of course. Arna looks at him like a big brother figure. She would never love him like that. He knew it to begin with,” Fanndis glowered.
“Love has a mind of its own it seems,” Soryn said, feeling the flutter of happiness he had felt earlier when he and Arna had declared their love.
“That it does,” agreed Fanndis, thinking back on her brief romance with Stigg’s father and her old flame for Governor Frey.
Shaking her head, Fanndis bumped Soryn in an attempt to lighten the mood.
“Do you think he’ll be alright, Fanndis, truly?” Soryn was not so sure.
“Help me get him into bed and I’m sure he’ll wake up feeling just fine in the morning. Well, all except for a devil of a headache.”