Night Bells by L.M. Sherwin

Chapter Eighteen

  In which Lord Maslyn becomes a man of action…

  The kitchen was vacant. That was not so unusual, Soryn allowed. It was nearing bedtime after all. He hoped the women were safely tucked in their beds, but something told him this would not be the case. Stigg stormed into the main room and scowled. Both men looked at each other when they saw that it, too, was empty. Not a sound could be heard—no creaking of the bed in the back bedroom, no laughter or conversation. It was unearthly quiet. No one was in the cottage at all. There was no sign of struggle or attack. Everything was in its place and tidy.

  Stigg scowled and violently ran his hands through his hair. “Check everything—look for any sign of what could have happened. I’ll check the barn.”

  Soryn nodded, feeling the dread smother him. Something was very wrong. In the interest of remaining calm, he searched everywhere for a note, a clue, something to help them know what had happened. The kitchen and main room were no help. However, in the back bedroom discreetly settled on the chair underneath the window was a scrawled note that read:

  We’ve gone after them. He’s headed for the mountains.

  “Stigg!” Soryn shouted, taking the paper with him as he ran to the barn.

  Stigg was still inspecting the stalls in case someone had hidden there. He looked up when Soryn came in.

  “What did you find?”

  “We have to go, now! They’re up in the mountains. We may still be able to catch their trail,” Soryn panted as he began undoing saddle ties from the hooks on the barn wall.

  “Soryn.”

  “Hurry up! We have to catch them!” Soryn yelled, frightened beyond thought.

  “It’s going to be alright. We can handle this. You can handle this. Arna will be alright,” Stigg promised, his eyes sincere.

  Putting a hand on Soryn’s shoulder, Stigg nodded his support. Soryn nodded in return and continued to loosen the saddle from the wall. Stigg sprang into action, saddling Ivan within minutes. Soryn had Sable saddled in comparable time. Apparently, Fenris did not care if they followed him—if it was in fact Fenris they were pursuing. They rode as quickly as the horses would tolerate. The path snaked around the front of the cottage and into the woods—approaching the mountains from the east. Stigg sneered at the petty attempt to throw them off the trail.

  Though Stigg was not a religious man, he prayed the entire way that his promise to Soryn would ring true. Adrenaline pumped through his veins when he thought about what could happen when they made it to the mountains. He pushed the thoughts away and focused only on the trail ahead of him and following as fast as he could. There was no way to tell how much of a head start Fenris had. Occasionally, he looked back at Soryn to see how the young man was doing.

  Soryn sat, grim-faced in the saddle. A murderous tint shrouded Lord Maslyn’s eyes. More than that, he was afraid. More afraid than he had ever been in his life. All he could think about was Arna, taken by a fiend into the mountains for some unknown purpose. He worried for the women who had become like grandmothers to him. He worried that he and Stigg would be able to do nothing to save them. They made it to the base of the mountain and saw the path the others had taken. There was no way for them to tell how far behind they were, because of the snowy trees that guarded the way. A few minutes up, they met Valkyrie. She was badly hurt and groaning on the ground. Soryn dismounted and went to the old woman. She panted and clutched her leg.

  “Well, some heroine I turned out to be,” she said between labored breaths.

  “What happened, Valkyrie?” Soryn demanded.

  Stigg knelt next to them and took a look at Valkyrie’s leg. The shin bone had come clean through the skin. He made a splint from some sticks around and a strip of cloth that he tore from his shirt. She said nothing to Stigg, but focused all her attention on Soryn.

  “He came. Fenris. Just after you and Stigg left for the greenhouse. He came in through the kitchen door, just like he belonged there with us. We didn’t know what to do. He had no weapon that we could see and he was smiling kindly. No one could say anything. We realized then that Fenris had somehow silenced us with powerful magic. When we tried to move, we found we could not. Fanndis and I were planted where we stood as though we were statues. He’d done that, too. He picked Arna up and left without a word. We could hear Arna screaming and crying for help, but we were unable to move.

  “Finally, Fanndis and I were able to break the spell he’d put us under—powerful spell it was—and we clambered out into the yard and saw that he’d taken Nar and fled into the woods, towards the mountains. Fanndis wrote the note while I saddled Liv and we followed after.”

  “How did you hurt your leg,” Stigg asked, trying as best as he could to stabilize the area where it was broken.

  “I fell and told Fanndis to go on without me,” she said.

  “Go, Soryn. If I don’t set her leg, this could be very bad. I’ll catch up,” Stigg said eyeing the path up to the peak.

  Soryn did not need to hear anything else. He sped up the slope as quickly as he could, urging Sable along with quiet yips and squeezes of his thighs. The trail was becoming more difficult to follow and it became clear some ways up that Fenris and Fanndis had gone off the path towards the north instead of continuing towards the west.

  “Just what are you up to, Fenris?” Soryn whispered to himself.

  He fought the dread that threatened to paralyze him. He could not afford to brood about his brother’s intentions. Breathing in and out, Soryn fought for calm. He just followed the path, listening to the wind rustling the leaves of the trees and the clipping gallop of Sable’s hooves in the night.

  Soon, he found what he sought. Up ahead on a small terrace branching off of the mountain sat Fenris, Fanndis, and Arna around a fire that rested in a hastily thrown together hearth. Fanndis sat ramrod straight—unnaturally so—and Arna leaned against Fenris with her eyes closed and her body slumped as though she were unconscious. Soryn led his horse into the clearing and dismounted, tying the reigns to a nearby tree.

  “Hello, Soryn,” Fenris said.

  “Fenris,” was all Soryn could manage.

  “Sit. You’re among friends here,” Fenris extended his hand to the ground in front of him.

  Soryn never took his eyes off of the traitor as he lowered himself to the ground and sat on his knees, poised—like Stigg had taught him—for action should there be a need for it. Fenris sat across the fire from him, looking as though he had not changed a day in three years. His brother had left his hair long instead of cutting it in a more manageable fashion. His red-brown eyes, the eyes of their mother, peered out at Soryn like sinister orbs. Fenris had tainted those eyes; they were the eyes of a monster now. A crooked smile arranged itself on Fenris’ face. Soryn found he wanted to smash it in. Sadness welled within him that his brother had deteriorated to such a crazed state. How did that happen?

  “It is strange to see my little brother all grown up, Soryn. Tell me, how does it feel to find yourself a man and in a new body?” Fenris’ velvety voice filled the silence much like Ulla’s used to fill Soryn’s mind.

  “Why did you take Arna? What could you possibly want with her?” Soryn ignored Fenris’ question.

  “My, how rude you are, ignoring your older brother’s inquiries. Well, given that I am the polite one, I’ll answer you. Nothing. I care nothing for this girl. I just wanted to see you, that’s all. I enjoyed our little game in the woods, didn’t you? I knew you and that oaf would figure it out sooner or later and come running.” Fenris smiled, curling his long-nailed hands through Arna’s hair.

  Hatred seethed through every fiber of Soryn’s body. Still, he figured it was more prudent to bide his time and wait instead of acting rashly. Fenris had apparently lost his telepathic powers that he had while in Ulla’s body. Just as that thought passed, Soryn was startled to hear a voice in his mind.

  Soryn?

  It was Fanndis. Soryn felt his tension release a little.

 
Soryn, can you hear me? she continued.

  Yes. Fanndis what is happening?

  No time. Listen. He thinks I am still under his spell and that I cannot move, but I’ve long since broken it. Wait until I give you my signal and then go for your rifle. I’ll stun him long enough to keep him from thwarting your attempt. Then, we’ll have him. I’ll take care of Arna.

  Alright. Soryn was nervous, but knowing that Fanndis was not defeated bolstered the young man’s courage.

  “You seem deep in thought, little Maslyn. What are you thinking about?” Fenris mused aloud, still stroking Arna’s long hair as though he was her lover.

  “I’m just wondering how my eldest brother became such a waste. You had talent and ambition, but now you’re just…evil,” Soryn said, trying to keep his brother occupied while Fanndis readied herself.

  “Oh, I’m not evil, Soryn. I’m just tired of being the cast-off child. The one everyone views as a beast. I had grand ideas, little brother. I could really have been something great had I only the right encouragement, but Olan stole all that away from me when he turned me into an animal. All of my future was stripped away.”

  “We made you human again, you fool! You could have gone after your ‘future’,” Soryn spat, disgusted with the man in front of him.

  “Ah, yes, little Soryn came to save me, and for what? To learn that I was too old for training and for school? Too old to pursue my goals? The world is not forgiving to someone they consider dried up and useless,” Fenris sneered.

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you. I was doing what I thought was best.” Soryn threw up his hands.

  “As always, just like our parents, your best failed to meet my standards, Soryn.” Fenris’ acid words seared the air.

  Soryn knew it was meant to sting him, but it did not. He didn’t care. Any feeling for Fenris had long since died in him.

  Now Soryn! Fanndis cried.

  For an instant, Fenris cocked his head just like Ulla used to and for a split second, Soryn mourned their lost fraternity. Banishing his despair, he sprang into action as Fanndis stood up with her hands outstretched. Soryn did not see when Fanndis created an orb of concentrated wind and shot it directly at Fenris. Soryn’s brother was blown backwards—almost to the edge of the terrace. Fanndis grabbed Arna before he could get up. She dragged the girl back towards the path down the mountain. By then, Soryn had grabbed the rifle and had his boot thrust into Fenris’ stomach, the gun pointed at the face he hated.

  “Lie still,” Soryn ordered.

  “Well, well, well…someone has become a man while I’ve been away. Did the great Stigg teach you all of that? I know that Olan wouldn’t be man enough to teach you such violence. Good for you, Soryn. Truly I’m touched by your display of masculinity,” Fenris chuckled, that crooked smile still in place.

  Soryn breathed evenly. Stigg had trained him well and he did not waver for an instant. He hated looking at Fenris’ hair spread over the rocks like a net and his red eyes almost glowing in the firelight. He looked so much like their mother and Soryn gritted his teeth at the sight of him. It was sickening. He did not want anyone so heinous to share any likeness to his dear mother. Their mother had been all things good and kind in the world. Fenris stared up at him, hands held aloft in apparent surrender, but Soryn was no fool.

  A moment passed by and Soryn heard Arna’s soft gasp of alarm when Fanndis succeeded in waking her up. Soryn could not afford to turn and look at her. He knew if he let his guard down for a minute, Fenris would take advantage of it. Indeed, even with Soryn holding firm, Fenris thought he saw an opportunity and tried to get up. Soryn promptly shot him in the thigh. The shot reverberated off of the rocks and everyone’s ears rang with the deafening sound. It took them all a minute or so to realize that Fenris was screaming in pain.

  “Don’t move.” Soryn narrowed his eyes.

  Sweat broke out on Fenris’ face. Blood spewed from his injured leg. Still, he smiled through gritted teeth. Soryn shifted his foot. He was growing uncomfortable. Why was Fenris still smiling? His older brother’s hand moved to a pendant around his neck that Lord Maslyn had failed to notice. Fenris’ other hand extended towards Soryn and suddenly, he found he was being blasted backwards into the fire. He cursed under his breath and patted at the flames that threatened to burn away his clothing. Looking up, he saw Fenris leaning over him holding a knife that had been concealed in ragged clothing.

  Fenris stomped on Soryn’s chest, breaking several ribs. Soryn sputtered for breath as his older brother brought the knife down in a graceful arch. A gasp rang out when it collided with flesh and bone. Soryn coughed and looked down to see the knife sticking out of his right side. Fenris’ face held only a bored amusement at his actions. Dark hollows surrounded his fiery eyes.

  “That wasn’t nice to shoot me, little brother. But you see? My power is such that I have already closed the wound you gave me in my leg. But your wound…that will take real medicine and I’m afraid you’ll bleed out before help can get to you.” All Fenris’ white teeth were on display as his malicious sneer distorted his face.

  Fenris wrenched the knife out and walked towards the women, leaving Soryn heaving for breath and losing his life’s blood. Fanndis covered Arna with her arms and whispered to the girl not to be afraid. Fanndis began to weave a barrier around them that even Fenris, with his stolen power, would not be able to break so easily. Just as Fenris almost made contact with Fanndis’ barrier, he was tackled to the ground. An intense battle for the knife ensued. At first, Fanndis imagined it was Soryn, fighting on despite his injuries, but then, she saw it was Stigg.

  Stigg grunted with the effort of controlling his opponent and once or twice, Fenris snapped at the man like he was still an animal. Stigg made sure to keep Fenris’ hands extended so that the knife could not harm him.

  “Get his pendant! Stigg! That pendant is giving him power! Get it!” Fanndis shouted.

  Stigg and Fenris both looked down at the necklace. Fenris fought back with a ferocity that Stigg had never seen before in anyone. Stigg used every ounce of effort he had and inched his way to the pendant. Grabbing it securely in his hands, he tried to shove Fenris’ face away into the snow, but Fenris used his body to roll back and threw Stigg off of him. Springing up with surprising agility, Fenris rose from the ground, knife still in hand looking for his attacker.

  But Fanndis and Arna had hands to their mouths. Soryn had a stunned expression on his face. Stigg had fallen off the side of the terrace. Fenris sauntered towards the edge to confirm that the man had met his demise below. To his pleasure, Fenris saw Stigg’s body crumpled on a rocky precipice. Blood stained the cliff and Stigg’s abdomen. A smile of satisfaction crossed Fenris’ face and he turned around, intending to finish Soryn off and the women as well.

  Fanndis looked up above her, intending to beseech the heavens for help when a flash of white and black caught her eye. Up on another rock outcropping stood Ulf, Nora, Derik, and several others of their pack. She said nothing and tried to look afraid, though she was afraid no longer. Fenris neared their barrier and went to touch the pendant on his neck. He paled when he felt only the fabric of his tunic. Stigg had torn it off when he was thrown over the cliff. Fenris cursed himself and thought about retrieving it, but he did not have time to plan his next move. Ulf sprang from above and clamped down on Fenris’ shoulder with his iron jaws.

  Fenris shrieked. Ulf shook his brother’s body—now limp—from side to side in savage movements. Fenris was thrown against the mountainside and hit his head on the rocks. His body went still and Ulf crouched over him in case he came to. The pack surrounded Fenris on all sides. Sighing, Fanndis released her barrier. Arna was in shock and still unable to walk on her own. The older woman reached down and helped her up.

  Near the edge, Soryn had hoisted himself up, clutching his side where Fenris had stabbed him. His breathing came out heavy and erratic, but he refused to faint until he could check to see if Stigg was okay.

 
“Do you have Fenris?” Soryn asked Ulf.

  He’s not going anywhere, Brother, Ulf replied, inclining his head.

  “Is Arna alright?” Soryn asked Fanndis.

  “I’ve got her. Go.” Fanndis’ fear took hold of her. She did not know what she would do if her son had died on the rocks below.

  Soryn peered over the edge and saw that Stigg had fallen twelve feet or so to the next precipice. He lay on his back, but Soryn could see that his eyes were open and he was breathing, though it was laborious. There was a lot of blood. Soryn worked up all the strength he had left and began to climb down, one hand clamped to his side in an attempt to staunch his own blood loss. He felt the hot liquid oozing down his torso and leg, but he didn’t care. All he could think about was Stigg and he prayed that his friend was alright.

  When he made it to the ledge, he hurried over to him. Stigg coughed and a small red stream ran down the sides of his chin onto his chest. Soryn saw that Stigg’s back had been gashed by a rock when he fell and it had punctured something. Fear coiled in Soryn’s chest and he knew that Stigg was badly hurt—the kind of hurt one does not recover from.

  “Stigg?” Soryn attempted.

  “S-Soryn?” Stigg muttered, but then coughed up more blood and sank onto the rocks, closing his eyes. His breathing gurgled and caught in his throat.

  “We’re going to get you fixed up in no time, you’ll see,” Soryn promised, tears pooling at the corner of his eyes.

  “Y-You’re a terrible liar, Soryn,” Stigg laughed, despite the wracking cough that followed.

  “I’m not lying.”

  “Did we get h-him? I-Is Arna alright?” Stigg shuddered, his eyes beginning to lose focus.

  “Yes. He won’t be able to hurt her again,” Soryn assured him.

  Stigg smiled and seemed to relax into the rocks. Soryn tore strips from his shirt and crumpled them against Stigg’s back—the source of the blood. He knew it was futile, but he had to try.

  “Stop,” Stigg whispered.

  “I’m not going to just let you die, Stigg. You should know I’m too stubborn for that. You are, too, for that matter,” Soryn panted, losing focus from his own blood loss.

  “You’re hurt,” Stigg pointed out, struggling to raise his hand to indicate Soryn’s side.

  “I’ll be fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”

  The world seemed to stop for a moment. The wind went still and the snow fell in silent, lazy flurries. Soryn kept pressure on Stigg’s wound and looked up at the moons above. They were all full tonight and it gave him some strange sense of comfort. Above on the other precipice, he heard several of Ulf’s pack howling. The stars twinkled and the entire scene made Soryn think of the Night Bells that would be ringing right about that time. A thought came to him.

  “Arna!” Soryn shouted.

  “Soryn?” Arna and Fanndis peered over the rock ledge above.

  “Can the Seidh help Stigg?” Soryn felt hot, desperate tears tumble down his cheeks.

  Above on the precipice, Arna’s heart filled with a strange, overpowering sensation. Something about Soryn’s question pierced her mind with urgency. She searched her brain for an answer. Then it dawned on her…In three and a half years’ time, Soryn will profess his love, then, in the mountains he will ask you a question when the moons are full. You must say ’yes’…then you must come to me…there won’t be much time…

  “Oh, God,” Arna breathed.

  “What is it?” Fanndis asked.

  “We have to get Valkyrie. Now!” Arna shouted.

  “But, Arna, the Seidh can’t heal a wound like this,” Fanndis insisted, her cheeks stained with weeping.

  “We have to get Valkyrie!” Arna turned around and stumbled as she tried to walk. Cursing her useless body, she screamed for Derik.

  The young wolf perked up his ears and looked towards her.

  What is it, Arna?

  “Run! Get Valkyrie! She’s down below somewhere on the mountain! Go!”

  Without reply, Derik sped off down the path like the devil was at his heels.

  “Help is coming, Soryn. Make Stigg hold on! Someone is coming that can help him!” Arna yelled.

  But below, Soryn slumped over Stigg’s body, unconscious. Stigg’s head turned to the side, his eyes closed.