Freyas Saga Ch. 16

Best to be reasonable, he thought.

"Can't just believe anyone walking in here," he said.

"No, no," she said. "I understand. So you're a guard Ôere."

"Fifteen years," he said proudly. Her eyes widened.

"Fifteen years," she said. "By Ôeck. You must have seen a lot of action."

"Well," he said, "I mean, this is a law-abiding town. But it's thanks to blokes like me."

"I'd say it is," she said. "So you've fought off many attacks on the city chambers, Ôave you?"

"Well," he said, "I wouldn't say there's been loads, but, we've seen some trouble."

"But," she said, "you've defended this place with your life, Ôaven't you? You've used that big sword of yours in anger, right?"

"I mean," he said, "I wouldn't want to claim any special credit for anything."

"But you've been in a battle?" she said.

He stared at her, and he glanced down again at the tattoos she wore, that showed him that this girl, who'd been barely able to speak when he first became a guard, had somehow acquired more battle experience than anyone else he even knew.

He dearly wanted to tell her to just fuck off. But there was something about her, and the taller, silent woman behind her, that was putting the fucking willies up him.

"No," he muttered.

"You've killed someone?" she said.

"No," he grated.

"Me neither," said the girl. "Seen plenty of people killed, mind. Just never done it meself."

"Oh," he said. "Well, you need training for that."

"I know," the girl said. "I've been training. But never mind that. I was just curious, y'know, about what you've done in this job. What you've Ôad to do."

"Fine," he said, "well, I'm not saying it's exactly been Angledorf, but ..."

"Oh," she said, "Angledorf. Yeah. She was at Angledorf."

She indicated the taller woman. The guard felt himself sweating in his helmet and tunic.

"I was too," the girl said. "I spent the Ôole thing hiding under a barrel pissing meself. I were that scared. Funny, eh."

"Hah," said the guard weakly.

"But she weren't," the girl went on. "She were right in there. Never seen anything like it. Killed five men."

"That so," said the guard, eyeing the other woman, who had the sort of patient self-possession that, sure enough, he'd only ever seen in veterans of many combats, and who was staring at him with undisguised dislike.

The tall one glanced at the younger one and shook her head.

Then she held up a hand with four fingers outstretched, her thumb curled into her palm.

Shit, shit, shit, he was thinking, why haven't I paid more attention to northern wars, I know I should know who she is, but ...

"Sorry," said the girl. "Four men."

"That's very good," he said to the tall one, in an effort to draw her into the conversation.

She didn't react. Just kept staring at him.

"See," said the girl, "maybe I'm just very, very stupid, or something, and that's possible, Ôcause I've always been told I am, at least, by everyone except her."

She indicated the older one, who didn't react.

"She thinks better of me," the girl went on, "which is why she lets me do the talking. She's also taken a vow of silence."

"What for?" he asked, helpless in the face of the girl's torrent of confusing talk.

"Not your concern, pal," she said. "As I said, maybe I'm stupid, or just not very travelled, but where I come from, when you first meet a man, you trust him until he shows you false, and then you treat him the way he treats you. So I'm just wondering, are things different down here, because we came up to you and told you that we killed a worm, and you seem to think I would want to make that up."

The guard hesitated.

"Almost as if," said the girl, "you'd call us liars."

"I didn't say that," said the guard defensively.

"Oh, good," she said, her voice becoming quieter. "Cause you seem like a man of honour and a nice bloke, and I wouldn't want to think you weren't."

"I am," he protested.

"I know you are," she said.

"I'm sure you're not liars," he said, feeling recklessly generous.

"Good," she said. "Then don't fuck me about. ÔCos I've seen things would make you shit blood."

She looked at him, matter-of-fact, expectant.

He believed her. There was a sort of weariness about her, something in her bones, something etched in the lines around her eyes and the downward turn of her mouth. It was all wrong, in one so young. It chilled him.

He wished there were another guard there. It wasn't right having to face people like this by himself.

"Now," she said, very quietly. "Tell me. Why do people a week's ride away think there's a worm here?"

He thought, hard. Something was nagging him. What.

"There ... there was a worm here," he remembered.

"Was?" she said.

"It went away," he said, confused. It was like a part of brain was misted up. But there was, there had been, hadn't there? Something?

"What, it just left?"

"I think so," he said. Damn, it was odd. He had a confused memory of everyone running about and much shouting and panic, and then doors being locked, and then going back to work knowing it had all been sorted out. But how?

The two women looked at one another.

"Why did it leave?" the girl said. "When did it go?"

He struggled to remember, and with shame it began to dawn on him that he had missed something, that something had happened, that he and all of them had failed to do something, but he couldn't for the life of him tell what.

"Can't remember," he mumbled.

The girl looked up at him -- strong-looking as she was, she was still shorter than him -- and she squeezed his shoulder gently.

"There you go," she said softly. "It's all right. We'll sort this out."

"Something's wrong," he said. "Yeah. Something's wrong in there."

He turned slowly and viewed the city chambers building, perplexed.

It dawned on him that he hadn't gone in for days.

"Looks like it," the girl said, standing beside him, her reassuring hand on his shoulder. She looked over her shoulder at the taller one, who came over and stood the other side of him. It was shaming, to have two women fussing over him, but he was remembering, now, that things had gone wrong somewhere.

"What's your name, pal?" said the girl in a friendly tone.

"Ralph," he said.

"All right, Ralph," she said, "you gonna let us in and help us fix this?"

He turned around and took the keys off his belt and unlocked the front door.

A smell came from inside: something airless and stuffy but faintly scented. The rooms were dark. There was a table just inside the door which had been overturned, a vase that had stood on it lying broken on the dusty floor a few feet away.

***

Five sniffed the stale air coming out and looked at Freya, who was peering into the building. Freya put her hand on the hilt of her sword.

"Who are you?" said the guard, looking dazed.

"Friends," Five said, and smiled at him. "Just stay here, and don't let anyone in or out, all right?"

He nodded. Freya stepped into the building and Five followed her. Then Freya looked over her shoulder at Five and smiled thinly, nodding with approval.

Not bad, little one.

Five smiled nervously back. Freya gave her a pat on the back, and they went in.

***

It was warm inside, stuffy and airless, and dust hung in the air, with what little light there was coming from windows high in the walls. Five looked around as they went further in, walking down a long passageway which turned a corner at the end. A small side table was overturned, the vase that had been on it lying in pieces on the ground. Nobody had been through here in a while.

The further in they went, the more Five began to feel that this was all wrong, all dodgy. There was something ... forbidden about it. More than that, even. She had a sense that there was something in her, some deeper wisdom she had, that knew that they'd made a wrong turn, here. That this couldn't possibly come to good.

She stopped, startled by the strength of her own conviction that they needed to get out of there. Freya kept walking, and then stopped about ten feet on and turned, and looked at her inquiringly.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" said Five, and her voice sounded unnaturally loud in the narrow corridor.

Freya frowned.

"I don't think that this is so wise," said Five uneasily. "Think we'd better make more enquiries."

"Scared?" Freya whispered, her voice hissing in the thick warm air.

"No," said Five. "Just think that there's something about this that feels wrong."

Freya gave her a hard stare for a moment, and turned around to face her.

"Is this how it will be?" she said, clearly displeased.

"What you mean?" said Five.

"Now you know yourself a woman," said Freya, "do you think that a woman must fear more easily?"

"What?" said Five.

You fucking bitch, she thought.

"Is this you acting womanly?" said Freya, gesturing at her. "For it does not become you."

"What you mean?" said Five. "It's just a feeling I have. It doesn't feel right. That's all."

"Are we now to be guided by your Ôfeelings'?" said Freya.

"Course not," said Five. "But I'll tell you what, now you know what I am, are you not listening to me? Is that it?"

"I will listen to you," Freya rasped, no longer whispering but speaking aloud, "when you have aught of value to say."

"You don't fucking want me on this," said Five, flushed with anger, "just say so, and I'll fucking go back to cooking! I don't need that from you, specially when I'm the one does the talking for us both!"

"You forget your place," said Freya.

"And you forget," Five started, and then hesitated, hearing what she was saying.

"You forget ..." she said again, and they stared at each other, each of them startled.

Forgetting, yeah, forgetting ... what the fuck? Did we just forget who we are? Everything we've been through?

Freya's eyes were wide, wary and angry, but it was no longer directed at her. She was looking around, almost sniffing the air, trying to find the source of whatever had done that.

It's as if, Five thought, struggling with the memory of it, it's as if we were a joke version of us. A mockery. Five minutes in here, and something made us not ourselves.

Freya's gaze met her own. Freya lifted her eyebrows -- you noticed that too, did you not? -- and Five nodded, relieved. Freya walked quickly over to her and took Five's hand and clutched their palms together, and Five squeezed back, and Freya patted her on the shoulder, there there little one, don't worry.

"Sorcery," Freya breathed in her ear, almost silent. Five nodded. "Be strong," Freya whispered, giving her a glance. "Do not speak in haste." Five shook her head no, and Freya gave her shoulders a squeeze, then beckoned her with her head.

Five took another step forward, and the feeling of wrongness had gone, not entirely, but it had weakened; she was now just very much more on her guard than before. Whatever was playing with their minds had overplayed its opening hand; they now knew that something wanted to trick them.

They went further in, Five sticking close to Freya, and they turned the corner.

The passageway ahead was completely dark, with no light at all. Just the heavy, warm air which smelled of dust. Another trick, Five thought, and squinted harder, but it seemed that the passage was truly dark; it was no false shadow that lay ahead but a real one.

So she thinks women are weak, Five thought, and then found herself thinking it, and banished the thought from her mind. Something fucking with me again. That's how it works; takes your fears and blows them up.

Better not think about my fears, then.

***

Freya could feel it, tugging at her, trying to fix her attention, whatever it was lurking at the other end of the thick dark air of the passageway. She glanced behind her at Five, who stood there looking pale and nervous but solid and unmoving, and she reached out her hand.

Five took it. Freya took a deep breath and walked forward into the darkness, holding the girl's hand.

You could see the darkness coming up to you, visible in the air like smoke, and her nerves screamed at her as she gritted her teeth and plunged into it, Five's strong hand in hers lending her the strength to walk through the solid blackness. It was as if the very air could blindfold them.

Almost immediately, Freya walked face first into a wall. The pain exploded in her nose and forehead and she cursed aloud. Five bumped into her from behind and Freya reached up cautiously and touched her own nose; it was bleeding.

"You all right?" came Five's voice, small as if she were far away, instead of directly behind her.

"Mm," Freya grunted. Funny, she thought grimly, and felt along the wall to see if they were in a dead end. To her right was more wall, but to her left the wall extended away, so she put a hand out before her and went on walking, her left hand ahead of her and touching the wall so that she kept in contact with it, but would also feel any corners coming up.

They edged down the corridor, the only sound their feet on the wooden floor, their breathing and the sound of Freya's hand sliding along the stone wall.

Then something whacked Freya's wrist, hard. She gasped, and almost let go of Five's hand, but then she heard another blow landing and heard Five yelp. What was this? Whatever it was, it felt like a wooden baton of some sort. It beat their wrists, sometimes alternately, sometimes on one of their wrists repeatedly, and Freya gritted her teeth through the pain and held Five's hand tight. Clearly, the thing aimed to separate them, and she would not let that happen. She hissed through her clenched teeth and heard Five swear under her breath. She sped up her pace, moving faster through the darkness, and they turned another corner, and another.

Then it was a hand, grabbing her wrist and tugging it away from Five's, and she heard Five curse again and her hand squeezed Freya's, tightly, and Freya sheathed her sword, took a deep breath and pulled Five to her so that they were walking with an arm around each other's shoulders, hunching against the rain of blows and punches that now landed on their heads and shoulders. Five made a stifled gulp and Freya squeezed her as they half-ran, blundering down the corridor while their invisible attackers beat them, and then there was a glimmer of light and they turned yet another corner and they stepped out of the darkness into a doorless, wood-panelled room lit by a high window which showed only the sky.

They panted for breath and looked at each other. They were bruised and scratched, and Freya looked at their arms; each of their forearms was red and flushed and she knew that they'd come up in worse bruises later.

"You are good?" she whispered. The cursed sorcery that had caused her to lose her temper so far as to raise her voice, now meant that her throat was inflamed and aching. Five nodded, looking around, to all corners of the room.

"Well," said Five with a hint of a smile, "that wasn't a barrel of laughs."

Freya shook her head, and then she heard it: a faint thumping and a voice. She raised a hand to quiet Five and walked around the room, listening to the walls, until she located it.

A panel near the floor, on the wall adjacent to the window. There was someone behind it. A child's voice, calling out indistinctly.

She ran her hands around it quickly, looking for a mechanism that might open the panel, and sure enough, a piece of wooden knotwork rotated in her hand and the panel slid open.

The girl fell into the room. She was small, dirty and urchin-like, no older than seven or eight, Freya thought, but given her state of health and ragged look she could have been older.

"Oh, thank you," she panted, clearly short of breath. "Oh, thank you, strangers. It was hard to breathe. Thank you."

Five knelt down beside her and helped her sit up, offering her water from her flask. The girl drank, and looked up at them. Her pinched face would have been pretty if she'd been better fed. Her pale grey eyes went from one to the other.

"You made it past the Night Walk?" she said. "You are strangers of virtue, indeed."

"Who are you?" said Five.

"I am Merion of Venceborn," the girl said. "I was trapped here when the worm came. I've survived on my wits, and what I can steal. I came here with my father. Have you seen him?"

"You're the first person we've seen, little one," said Five.

"With god's will he made it out," the girl said, looking around her, trembling. "Strangers, did you come here in search of the worm? For if you did, you should leave. It will not be tamed or conquered by the hand of man."

"We're not men," said Five with a smile.

"Or anyone else," said the girl. "It is foul, and old, and it is a being of great power, I think. I know about worms, you know."

"Do you now," said Five.

"I do. Who are you, strangers, that venture into the house of the Provost of Venceborn?"

"Why," said Five, "this is the Serpent Queen. If you know about worms, you must have heard of her."

The girl stared at Freya.

"The Serpent Queen?" she said. "You rule these creatures?"

Freya shook her head.

"I wouldn't say rule, exactly," said Five. "We're bringing them under rule. At the moment they run wild, and something must be done about them."

"Does she not speak for herself, your mistress?" said the girl.

"No," said Five, and was about to add something when the girl spoke again.

"Has she taken some sort of vow of silence?"

Five smiled.

"Well spotted," she said.

"Who are you, who speaks for her?" said the girl.

Five opened her mouth, was stumped for a moment, and then inspiration came.

"Every queen needs a Fool," she said. "I'm hers."

"You are a Fool?"

"So I've been told."

"Do something foolish."

"I follow her around," said Five, "en't that enough?" Freya smiled.

The girl considered this, then looked without surprise at their arms.

"See," she said. "This is the work of the worm. Your bruises."

Five was about to comment on them when she realised that the ache in her arms and wrists had faded, and there was no longer any sign of the bruises that had been flowering when they had come out of what the girl Merion called the Night Walk. Freya's had gone too. Freya's nose was still trickling blood from when she'd walked into the wall, though. Five reached into her pack and handed her a rag. Freya stared blankly at it for a moment before looking up at Five, puzzled, and Five pointed to her nose. Freya dabbed at it with her finger, saw the blood, rolled her eyes and wiped at it with the rag.