Page 492 of Flirting with Darkness

Astrid scrambled away, putting as much distance as she could between herself and Fenrir the wolf man. How could she have slept in his arms after he’d threatened her?

Only now did she remember the boat sinking, and swimming…but she had no memory of making it to shore. He must have carried her.

“Good evening. You’ve slept through most of the day, but the sun will set soon. You should probably take a look outside before the light dies,” Fenrir said.

Outside? They weren’t in a building. They were lying beneath a boat. One just like the one that had sunk, though it could not be the same one. Probably built by the same man, she told herself, as she crawled out into the afternoon light.

She recognised the beach as the same one she walked along every morning as a girl, but the only boat there now was the one they’d slept under. Perhaps the others had gone out fishing, or raiding. There should still be someone left in the village, though. Women, children, thralls and a few warriors to defend them, though the stout walls did most of the work.

Walls that…where were they? The fort had always had walls, for as long as she could remember. Only now…the walls, and everything within them, was gone. Where they should have been was an empty field of weeds, and no one.

Astrid stumbled forward. This could not be. There must be something wrong with her eyes. The witch had turned the fort invisible, perhaps. She had only to step forward and she would touch the palisade, though she could not see it, and the illusion would break. For the islet in the bay was just where it had always been, and the beach, and the cliffs, and…

Everything except the village, her family, and everyone and everything she knew.

7

When the sun had set, and it was safe for Fenrir to emerge from the boat’s shelter without his body turning to hard, immovable stone, he found Astrid on her knees, weeping, on the spot where Erik’s longhouse should have been.

“Where are they?” she implored, as if she thought he had the power to make an entire fort appear. Or disappear, as this one had.

The boat, her things, the fragile oars, the state of his cloak…Fenrir had only one answer, and she would not like it. No more than he liked it, though it must be the truth.

“I think we slept for many years. Long enough for the fort to be gone,” Fenrir said. “Perhaps a bad storm destroyed it, or your father found somewhere better to build a stronger fort, or…”

Astrid was a jarl’s daughter. She did not shy away from the truth. “Or the next attack was successful. But if they were attacked…why did they not call for your aid? Or wake me? I could have summoned you and the others…a whole army of warriors to defend the fort.”

“Perhaps. We will not know unless we find someone we can ask,” Fenrir said. Only there was no one here – no one for miles. Not even the scent of someone, however distant. “We need to find someone, and get you some clothes.”

“We need to go up to the pass, to see if the other protectors are still where we buried them, and wake them,” Astrid insisted.

“We’re not going anywhere until you have clothes, and some boots,” Fenrir said. “We’ll head for the river, until we find a cottage. Then, when you are dressed suitably for a hike up to the high pass, we will go and find these warriors of yours, if you wish. Though I promise you, I am more than a match for any dozen warriors. Perhaps even a hundred, what with all the protection I have from the curse and all.”

She swallowed. “I’m sorry. I never should have told my father about our kiss. Or how we went out to the island…I tried to tell him you were protecting me, but he didn’t believe me.”

“It doesn’t matter now. What matters is that we’re alive, and that I find a way to keep you that way. We may have slept for years, and the village might have moved, but one thing has not changed: as long as I live, I exist to protect you, and I will.”

“Thank you, Fenrir.” She rose to her feet, dusting off her knees. “Lead the way to…whatever signs of civilisation you can find.”

8

They walked half the night before Fenrir caught the faint scent of people, and longer still until they found the cottage that was the source of it. No lights, no smoke, no fire…and the most remarkable sheets of glass set in the walls, so that one might see out…or in, as was the case for Fenrir and Astrid. It seemed a shame to shatter one, but…

“Serves them right for leaving their cottage unguarded when there are raiders about,” Fenrir said as he punched through what turned out to be two sheets of the thin, clear glass.

He helped Astrid climb through the window, before pulling the shutters closed behind him. Instinct had him wanting to light a fire or at least a candle, but the predawn light spilled through the gaps in the shutters, bright enough to see by. They’d reached shelter just in time.

Astrid stumbled over to the bed, and slid beneath the blankets. It was every bit as soft and warm as the bed she’d slept in, inside her father’s longhouse. Fenrir breathed a sigh of relief. At least he hadn’t failed in his duties as her protector today.

While she slept – for he had no need to do so – he prowled about the cottage, taking stock of anything they might use for a journey to the high pass, where the other cursed men were buried.

There were countless glass windows, and other glass sheets that had uses he could not discern. Several were fixed to walls, but all he could see through them was blackness. Most strange.

Other sheets were backed with what appeared to be silver, and he could see his reflection clearly in them. By the gods, no wonder he terrified people. Well, everyone except Astrid, who feared nothing. He was the largest wolf he’d ever seen, with jaws that gaped wide enough to bite a man’s thigh in two. His fur was frosted with salt from the sea. He found a brush and began to remedy this, before setting the brush aside for Astrid to use on her own hair when she woke.

He found strange clear bottles filled with water, though he had to bite the tops off before he could taste it and confirm they were fresh enough to drink. He left these for Astrid, too.

Behind a pair of silvered glass doors, he found a small room filled with clothing, all hanging up in neat rows, like drying fish. Plenty of tunics and gowns and shirts for Astrid to choose from, though not a cloak to be seen. There were blankets enough that he could fashion cloaks for both of them from, though, so he did not worry. Especially when he found not one pair, but a dozen pairs of boots, as well as more delicate slippers.

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