Page 24 of Dragonbound

‘By the Gods,’ he exclaimed. ‘How many times must I do this before I learn it’s not as tall as I am?’

Rubbing his head, he felt a lump already beginning to form.

‘By the Gods,’ he repeated. It was going to hurt before it healed. Not only had he hit his head, but he’d also disturbed something in the rafters, which had fallen to the floor.

‘What’s this?’ he asked, feeling for the soft object with his outstretched hand.

Grimacing and still rubbing his head with his left hand, he shuffled back towards the ladder to the lower floor of his steading. In the dim glow from the fire that only just reached this far, he unwrapped the package.

‘Why is this here?’

It was his father’s journal. A memory of the last time he’d seen his father came into his mind. His father had been upstairs before Rankil had come to take him away. His father must have stowed the journal before hurrying to the door.

Reverentially, Erann ran his hands down the soft binding he’d not been supposed to touch as a child. The hide was soft and well-worn, the shadow of a deeper red visible along the spine. The journal fell open to show his father’s neat but cramped handwriting. Erann felt a pulse of sorrow at the sight, and then frowned.

What had his father been writing? The journal page held two columns of numbers, almost identical. Or rather, they were identical at the top of the page.

Erann ran his fingers down the columns of numbers in the weak light.

What was this?

His father had prized this journal, and it had been his only secret from Erann. There’d been nothing else in the steading Erann had been forbidden from touching. But what did these numbers mean? He thoughtfully rewrapped the journal and took it back to his bedside. He’d look at it further in the morning. Right now, his head was pounding from hitting it, and his body was starting to shake in remembered cold from earlier. He needed to sleep.

17

ERANN

‘Look,’ Erann exclaimed, grabbing his brother’s arm. A thin streak of deepest green lanced across the black tapestry of the sky. ‘It’s a good sign, Hakon. Tomorrow the sun will rise for the first time since the start of the Long Night, and the final sunset of last rotation’s Long Day.’

Erann felt giddy with excitement, despite knowing that this Long Day would see Jarl Rankil officially recognised as Jarl of the Eastern Quarter. It would finally and irrevocably be decreed that his father had been guilty of the crimes levelled against him. And yet, Erann couldn’t deny he felt hopeful.

Hakon jumped from foot to foot beside him, jiggling in excitement, and Erann felt a smile turn his lips. They’d survived. Another terrible Long Night was coming to an end.

‘I’ll tell Mother,’ he called.

He found Ingun sitting in her chair before the hearth. He shivered as he drew nearer, despite the wash of heat. The fire wasn’t as high as he remembered the Long Night fires of his childhood being. But they’d had to be careful with their supplies. They’d have enough, provided they were careful. Ingun sat, swaddled in every spare fur they had, and still he knew she was often cold. Not that she complained, but the paleness of her skin, and the blueness beneath her eyes, revealed the truth.

Perhaps the knowledge that another Long Night would soon be over would warm her. She was always as excited as he was to see the Long Night end.

‘Mother,’ he called, ‘the sky’s definitely showing signs. Tomorrow, we’ll have Dawning.’

‘That’s wonderful, Erann.’ But Ingun’s voice rang with apathy and was at odds with her words.

‘Perhaps now we’ll be able to go to the Full Council meeting and meet up with Anya. I’m sure she’ll know of some herb or remedy to heal you,’ he persisted, unease worrying his spine. Usually she had an immediate list of chores that needed to be carried out as soon as the return of the Long Day could be predicted.

‘I don’t want to go anywhere, Erann, anywhere at all. I will sit here and wait for what will happen to happen. Surely you must know that by now, Erann?’ She turned to look at him, her brown eyes pleading for him to understand.

He shook his head fiercely, anger welling from deep inside him.

‘You’re not the only one who’s suffered, you know. I’ve been here as long as you, hoping and praying he’d return. What am I supposed to do if you go as well? Am I just expected to lie down and die as well?’ He’d held his fear in check throughout the Long Night; now it rushed from him because he knew Hakon was far enough away, he’d not hear.

‘I’m sorry, my son,’ Ingun whispered, her voice lethargic. ‘I know what you’ve been through. You’ll never know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, your brother and sister. I know how much you hurt and how angry you are about what happened. I only wish I could make it all better. I hoped I could.’ Her voice gained in strength as she held his eyes.

‘I’ve hoped every day for the past eight rotations. It seems hope isn’t enough, Erann. It’s not brought your father back. It’s not brought about the end of Rankil, either. I’ve persevered for too long, son. I only want to go.’ Her voice was calm and measured.

Instantly, sorrow replaced his anger. His feet felt welded to the floor. He couldn’t have moved if the steading had been on fire. The sense of loss and hopelessness was overwhelming. He couldn’t listen to his mother telling him how much she wanted to die. He refused. He needed the cold of outside. He needed to see the coming Long Day.

Turning abruptly, he stalked back through the outer tunnel, to where Hakon still watched the green light dancing on the horizon.