Svein shook his head, as Raye’s stomach twisted yet again. It wasn’t as though she’d intentionally denied Svein the sparring, but she was always so exhausted at the end of her days at the loom, and, she could admit, she hadn’t wanted to face down the too-present reminder of Kalfr in those wooden swords, either. The bitter awareness that Kalfr should have been here using them, play-fighting with Svein. That perhaps they both would have wanted that, and enjoyed it.
But there wasn’t any judgement in Gaelfr’s glance toward her, and instead — if she wasn’t mistaken — there was a flicker of warmth, or even teasing. “Then she shall need to watch and learn, also,” he said lightly. “Now hold it thus, son. See?”
Svein carefully watched, and soon he and Gaelfr were embroiled in yet another lesson. Gaelfr showed Svein how to hold the blade, how to stand, how to execute the most common strikes and blocks. And then he explained the rules that apparently governed friendly sparring matches amongst young Bautul orcs, including where to strike, and what kinds of strikes were prohibited.
It was a substantial amount of information, but Svein listened with rapt attention, nodding and excitedly asking questions. And once Gaelfr finished the lesson, and they began sparring together, Svein threw himself into it with impressive force and purpose, while Gaelfr alternately corrected and praised him, and urged him on further.
And whatever Raye had expected from this, she found herself genuinely enjoying it. It was a true pleasure to see Svein so happy and excited, exercising both his body and his mind, working out all his considerable energy. And to Raye’s grudging surprise, Gaelfr was a pleasure to watch, too. His huge body so fluid and graceful, his movements measured and controlled. He never struck hard enough to hurt Svein, he was generous with his help and his praise, and whenever he laughed, it lit up his hard face, and turned it into something warm, expressive, affectionate. Something…fatherly.
Gaelfr and Svein kept sparring until the sky had fully darkened, and Raye could only catch glimpses of them in the faint light from the cottage’s papered windows. But that was lovely too, the shouts and laughs and movements in the dark, the awareness that Svein was still thoroughly enjoying himself. That this was an experience Raye had never given him — perhaps never could have given him, with her distinct lack of orcish night vision — and one that taught him real skills that could help keep him safe in the future.
“You have defeated me enough for one day, son,” Gaelfr finally said, the warmth still ringing through his voice. “And we have ignored your poor mother all this time, also. I ken” — Raye caught a glimpse of his big body coming closer, until his hand gripped at her shoulder — “she shall have her turn soon, ach?”
His voice had dropped into something husky and soft, and he again inhaled close against Raye’s hair. Firing an undeniable heat all through her belly, and deep into her groin, too. Andthough she squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep steadying breath, she could still feel the weight of his gaze, too hot and close. Surely seeing too much, knowing too much.
But he didn’t say anything, and once they’d all tumbled inside again, he focused his attention back on Svein. “Now what of this book you spoke of, son?” he asked. “Mayhap we can look at this for a spell before bed.”
Svein’s shout of glee rang through the cottage, and he rushed off toward his bedroom, and fetched the book at once. It was of course that book Kalfr had sent him, titledThe Spectacular Sights and Secrets of the Orcish Underworld.And despite its cheerful illustrations and descriptions, Raye had never liked looking at it — not only did it also speak far too strongly of Kalfr, but it was clearly a post-war rehabilitation effort, intended to depict Orc Mountain as a friendly, well-appointed place, rather than as a dark, dangerous fortress that could steal Svein away forever.
Gaelfr eyed the book uneasily too, frowning down toward it with rising disbelief in his eyes. “Kalfr sent you this, also?” he asked, as he sank down heavily at the table, and inhaled deeply against the book’s cover. “And it is… a book about Orc Mountain? Forhumans?”
Svein eagerly nodded, and perched himself onto Gaelfr’s knee, placing the book reverently on the table before them. “That’s what it says at the start, right, Mama?” he asked, with a bright grin toward her. “She helped me read the first few pages, but I’ve been doing the rest on my own, haven’t I?”
Raye nodded and forced a smile, because as little as she liked the book, she could admit that it had been an excellent encouragement with Svein’s reading. And already he was flipping to the introduction, and waving his hand excitedly toward it. “You read it too, Papa!” he said. “We can do it together!”
But at that, Gaelfr’s expression faltered, his eyes darting up toward Raye’s face. “Forgive me, son, but you will need to read for us,” he replied, with a grimace. “I never learnt to read common-tongue, nor much of our own tongue, either. Too trapped in fighting instead, I ken.”
Gaelfr couldn’tread? It was perhaps the first time he’d admitted to any kind of weakness — or betrayed any real hints of his past beyond Kalfr, either. And now that Raye considered it, she really knew nothing about Gaelfr’s past, did she? About how he’d grown up, or what he’d done for a living, or how he and Kalfr had met. Or what he’d done across the sea in the south, for all those years. And what did he mean, he’d beentrappedin fighting?
He didn’t seem eager to elaborate, and his eyes stayed fixed on Svein, whose expression was only pure, unfiltered delight. “Then I can teach you to read, Papa!” he exclaimed. “Just like you can teach me more sparring!”
Gaelfr shot another unreadable look toward Raye, perhaps because — of course. They didn’t have time for any of that, because Gaelfr was still leaving, once Kalfr came. And curse it, she needed to remember that. She couldn’t trust him. She knew nothing about him.
But Gaelfr didn’t counter Svein’s offer, either, and carefully turned a page of the book with his claw. “For now, are there pictures?” he asked, with a half-smile. “I should be able to follow those, I ken.”
Svein nodded, and promptly began flipping pages in the book. Showing Gaelfr one illustration after the other, all of various places and people within Orc Mountain. Many of which Gaelfr clearly recognized, and Raye didn’t miss the continued brightness of his eyes as he stared, or the occasional spasms in his throat.
“I did not know they had made so many changes to the mountain, since I left,” he told Svein, with a catch in his voice. “Nor brought so many orcs back to live there. Look, here is Olarr, one of our Bautul battle-captains, with his human mate — and ach, do they now have… humanyounglings?”
His voice rose, his eyes staring at the page, at where a bulky orc and a handsome human man were standing together with two smiling human children — one of them a girl about Svein’s age, one a boy perhaps a few years older. Gaelfr seemed strangely struck by the sight, and blinked at it for long enough that Svein cast him an uncertain look, and tentatively turned the page.
“And this,” he said, with a hopeful smile, “is Papa Kalfr’s mushroom garden!”
Papa Kalfr’swhat? Raye stepped closer to look down at the page, which she’d glimpsed a few times before — an underground cave of sorts, with a variety of mushrooms growing from the walls and floors. But she’d never read the small text at the bottom, which creditedKalfr of Clan Bautulfor his help and guidance in the garden, and praised him as one of Orc Mountain’s most accomplished gardeners.
Raye’s heart skipped a beat, perhaps at seeing Kalfr’s name in print like that, but also because Svein had never mentioned this. Svein had never once hinted that Kalfr himself was named in the book, let alone that he was apparently involved ingardeningnow. And gods, had Raye been teaching her precious son to hide from her, too? To mistrust her? To lie to her, just like Kalfr had?
But Svein’s glance up toward Raye was already apologetic, and Gaelfr’s hand slipped around her waist, guiding her down onto his other knee, opposite Svein. And she might have argued, shoved away, but in this instant, Gaelfr didn’t look like herealized he was doing it. No, because he too was staring at the book, and looking strangely pale, and confused, and… hurt.
“Will you — read this again, son?” he asked, hoarse. “This must be some mistake. Kalfr is not a gardener. He is awarrior.”
Svein complied, reading out the passage again, while something shifted across Gaelfr’s eyes. Something that felt far too close to the mess still twisting in Raye’s thoughts, and she sank closer against his chest, her hand slipping around his solid back. As if saying,I understand. I didn’t know, either. There’s so much I didn’t know.
The vision of that portrait Gaelfr had shown her rose again too, with that beautiful woman gripping at Kalfr’s arm with such possession, such pride. And maybe Gaelfr was also thinking of it, his eyes now distant, far away, and Raye’s hand began stroking his back, sliding up and down over his smooth warm skin, over all the faint indents of scars within it.
“Perhaps that’s enough for tonight, then, love,” she said to Svein, as her other hand flipped the book closed. “We can read more tomorrow.”
Svein attempted to protest, but Raye shook her head, and shooed him off to his room to change for the night. Leaving her sitting there on Gaelfr’s lap, stroking his scarred back, feeling his heartbeat thudding into her shoulder.
