Prologue
839
Off the coast of Agthir
(Modern-day southwestern Norway)
Randolfr Fullrson’s return to the land of the living came in slow, painful degrees of consciousness. First, he noticed the rocking of the boat, then the pins and needles attacking his limbs, and finally his sight returned. Instead of the royal hall or indeed the Queen’s garden where he last remembered heading towards, he was lying on his back, looking at the swaying leather-covered shelter of a merchant ship.
He turned his head. A sharp pain shot through it, becoming embedded in his left cheek. A loud groan which embodied all the torments in the world echoed throughout the shelter, and he felt pity for the poor creature having to endure that sort of agony. Belatedly, he realised the sound had emerged from his aching throat.
‘Worse than Fenrir the Wolf’s embrace on a cold night,’ he mumbled to no one in particular.
‘You live, thank Odin and all the gods.’
‘Thorarinn?’ His own voice was a shadow of its former strength. The left side of his jaw refused to move in its normal way. He concentrated hard and tried again. ‘Where are we, cousin? What new evil has befallen us?’
‘Hush, Rand, for everyone’s sake.’ His cousin looked over his shoulder as if he were expecting to see ice giants with drawn swords bearing down on them. ‘We’re on a boat, going east. Putting water between us and Drengr and his sons.’
‘Drengr, the King’s advisor? Why is he concerned with the likes of us? Why do we have to leave Agthir?’
‘With any luck, he won’t have us declared wolf’s heads. His sons, particularly the youngest, Turgeis, want your blood.’
Rand concentrated on the seam in the dark leather awning. Last thing he remembered was talking—no, sharing a kiss—with that blonde-haired serving girl with the flashing eyes and saucy tongue. Innocent, but eager to flirt. Her name… Svanna…even now seemed to be sliding into a great swirling black. They were supposed to meet, but where? The black hole appeared to reach out to him.
‘Why?’ he croaked out, trying to escape its clutches.
‘Didn’t know it was you, see. Turgeis offered a pouch of gold to any man who knew where the Queen’s daughter dallied with her new lover. I took a gamble and said the Queen’s private garden.’ Thorarinn gulped hard. ‘They paid me gold but…then someone said they’d seen you headed that way. And then I saw you being beaten.’
‘The Queen’s daughter?’ Rand tried to think around the stabbing pain in his head. He’d only seen the young woman from a distance in the feasting hall, he and his cousin seated far too low on the tables to reach her exalted notice. Heard her sing-song voice once, asking where her dog Tippi was. Who in the royal household of Agthir hadn’t as the young woman loved that dog? The story of how she’d charmed the current King with her innocent golden beauty and he’d married her mother, saving both their lives, was recited at every Agthir feast. ‘Don’t have a death wish. Meeting…’ beneath the pain, he dredged up her name ‘…Svanna. Meeting that girl.’
‘Ingebord, the Queen’s daughter, was supposed to be meeting someone, and I lost at dice.’
Rand struggled to think how the two events were connected.
‘Never spoken to her, Thorarinn. I swear this.’ He’d gone to the garden because of… Now, all he could think of were her laughing eyes. He’d picked some flowers to make Svanna smile, and dropped them when the first blow came.
‘Dreadful mix-up. Needed to pay my gambling debt or risk losing my fingers.’ Thorarinn hunkered down beside him. ‘Once I discovered you were in that garden, I went back, fought the King’s advisor off, getting severely kicked for my pains, I might add, and carried you to this ship. I saved your life.’
Rand’s brain buzzed as if a thousand bees had attacked it and the awning swung round in a dizzy-making series of circles. He concentrated on breathing and allowing the blackness to swirl about him. The world slowly righted itself. After another long while, he risked opening an eye. Thorarinn knelt beside him with his head bowed. The marks of the beating shone on Thorarinn’s face and hands.
‘You saved me?’
The creases in Thorarinn’s face relaxed. ‘I did. Drengr and his sons would have left your body for the crows to feast on.’
‘Never met the Queen’s daughter. Never touched her, kissed her or attempted to kiss her.’
He’d kissed the other one, the serving girl, but her face and name were slowly going from his mind, like water slipping through his fingers. The sweet taste of her mouth and her silvery laugh lingered. He shook his head, trying to get rid of the incessant buzzing. Svanna.
‘I know that! This is me, your cousin, remember?’
‘That’s the trouble. Not remembering, Thorarinn. All slipping away,’ Rand whispered and the pain in the left side of his face throbbed to a crescendo.
‘Your pretty face has altered but you breathe.’ Thorarinn gave a quick smile and clapped him on the shoulder. The gesture from his normally undemonstrative cousin told Rand all he needed to know about how severely he’d been beaten. ‘Safe now. Embarked on a new adventure.’
‘New adventure?’
‘No more Agthir. No more Queen’s golden-haired daughter or murderous King’s advisor and his sons. Eastward, cousin.’ He bumped his fist against Rand’s hand. ‘Our past behind us. No need to discuss this ever again.’
