Days had passed since their encounter.
Svea stood by her fence one morning after, fingers brushing the rough grain of the latch with a frown. It had been mended, though bit by her own hand, not even in the fashion of farmers.
The rails had been made straight, yet there was something overworked about them.
She glanced beyond her fields, seeing it was not only hers.
All through Valkvann, she found the same.
Water troughs which had been filled before dawn though the owners still slept; loose gates which had been righted, chipped boards on houses had been smoothed, small repairs had been made throughout as though by some secret host in the night.
"Do you notice anything strange?" Svea asked when Eydis joined at her side.
Eydis cast her sharp eyes over the houses for her own observation, analyzing what was around them but failing to arrive at the same conclusion. "No. . ." she said, shaking her head with a small laugh.
"Did you bring water to your animals this morning? Mend your fence?"
"No."
"Then who did?"
Eydis shrugged, her smile curling. "Perhaps the dvergr. The dwarves creep where we least expect them."
(*Dvergr: Old Norse for mythological dwarves)
Svea snorted. "When have you known the dvergr to do anything for free?" She ran her hand along the latch again. It was solid work, yes, but not that of a farmer. Whoever had done this was not used to beasts nor their needs. She chewed the inside of her cheek. Her thoughts wandered. None of the animals had been taken or harmed, there were no unwelcomed changes to the farm. "Strange. . ." she murmured to herself again. Then, it struck her, if only for a mere second that the woods where she had met Leif. . . she cleared the thought from her head.
"Forgive me Eydis, you came here for a reason?"
Eydis nodded, "Agathe -" she began but stopped, her nose crinkling as though it was offended by something in the distance. She sniffled once, sharply. "Do you smell that?"
Svea caught it too as the wind blew it in their direction. Smoke.
At first faint as a memory, then thick enough to sit in the throat.
"What is - is this an attack?" Eydis asked, already reaching for the seax at her belt.
(*Seax: A knife)
Shaking her head as she looked to the distance, Svea narrowed her eyes. The column of black smearing the horizon was too far and too large to be from a moving group. Darkening the sky in it's wake. "No. Look. Too wide, too dark, it doesn't move." She wiped her palms against her tunic, already moving. She figured where the fire was would have the coast nearby, easy access to water. "Have Agathe gather any who will come. We must put it out before it's carried to us."
Eydis ran.
Svea went to her horse - stopping as another figure stumbled into the open, arms lifted in surrender without question as though he was not a threat.
Leif.
Anger prickled her voice as she demanded to know, "Why are you still here?"
He bent forward, breathless, words tumbling from him as he hurried to explain himself. "Once I found a safe place to sleep, I could not rise. I - I'm sorry, Svea." he straightened with effort, his bones aching from the stiffness of his long slumber. His eyes were wide, forcing himself awake. "I did see a village before I wandered here. I believe that is where the smoke comes from."
Svea chewed her lips.
In another moment, in another season of life, she would have called him a liar, spy, or even a trap-setter. It was too convenient after. She couldn't deny, however, that they were now all pressed for time. The longer the fire was allowed to run rampant, the more likely it was to reach them. She seized the reins of her second horse, thrusting them into his hand. "Show me."
The boy climbed onto the weaker mount as she climbed onto her own. "Go," she commanded. "Eydis and the others will follow."
They rode hard, the smoke drawing them in. It shifted with the wind, bending and swaying as the sky itself refused to claim what had been done. Refusing the responsibility that it's very breath had empowered the fires. The silence between them was thick, but Svea broke it with a single question, her voice was cold but her need to know was stronger than her anger. "Are you the one mending the farms?"
Leif's face burned with shame. "As thanks. A sign of goodwill," he confessed to it quickly. "I did not mean to stay. I was. . . exhausted."
"Right."
He bowed his head. The black of his hair curtained his face, hiding his eyes.
He didn't want to meet her face, nor could he. He had made her one promise but hadn't kept it.
They entered the village, the smoke immediately finding home in their empty lungs. As Leif doubled over coughing, Svea pressed the fabric of her tunic across her mouth and nose, her eyes scouring the blackened ruins that rose around them a graveyard of charred bones. The houses had collapsed inward, their frames bowing like the ribs of long-dead beasts. Timbers still glowed faintly, embers fighting stubbornly against the dusk.
Stepping carefully, every rock beneath Svea's foot seemed to shift away. The village looked deserted yet the silence was too thick. "It looks empty," she said, her voice muffled by the cloth. "Are you certain there were people here?" "Yes." Leif croaked, swallowing against the ash. His eyes watered from the sting of the smoke trying to blind him.
The great hall at the center of the village finally caught her attention, almost all of it had been consumed. The sight of the heavy wooden lock across it which hadn't fully been burned away but still clung to the scorched door made her stop short. Her throat tightened. She couldn't hide the disgust, nor the pain, on her face.
Leif hesitated, "What is it?"
Svea lifted her arm, pointing. "The people of this village were driven inside," she said grimly. "Barred like cattle then burned alive."
Her finger dropped to point at the lock as proof. If it had been an empty building, the lock would have served no purpose. It was more than that, though. It was the smell itself, one she knew. The smell of burning flesh; it was one that once you met it, you never forgot it. While she had never been exposed to it on such a large scale, it had been seared into her memory deeper than any scar could ever reach.
Her mind dragged her back unwillingly to the first time she had smelled burnt flesh. To the day she was branded.