FROST- Jotun Chronicles #1

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“It’s beef broth,” Erik grinned at me, “what? Did you think we served something strange and terrible here because we’re rebels?”

I blushed a little, “No.” That wasn’t strictly true. For some reason I’d expected it to taste terrible. The blacksmith threw back his head and let loose with a hearty laugh, and I narrowed my eyes at him,

“Ah, lass, you should see the look on your face now,” he told me.

Erik rolled his eyes, “Leave her alone, Jarll,” he set his bowl down on the ground and turned to me, catching me in a giant yawn. I shut my mouth with a snap, cheeks flushing again.

“I’m sorry,” Erik’s hand was on my knee, “you must be exhausted, all of you.” He looked over at Charlotte and Loki. Charlotte blinked sleepily at us, but Loki was apparently wide awake and glaring at Erik’s hand.

The pressure on my knee vanished quickly. “You should all get some rest before the council decides.” Erik pushed himself up off the ground and climbed to his feet. I followed suit, but with a lot more groaning and creaking of joints. That horse ride really hadn’t done me any good.

“I’ll show you to a couple tents where you can crash for a while,” Erik motioned for us to follow him. We left Jarll by the fire, and when I looked back over my shoulder at him, the big blacksmith was ladling himself another bowl of soup.

The rebel’s camp was just starting to come alive as we passed through. Activity was just beginning, both in the ground camp and the city in the trees. The tapping of people passing one another on the wooden planking was loud overhead, and shouting and laughter and the noise of pots clanging together while they made breakfast surrounded us. As we walked through the tents my senses were assaulted with a mixture of different smells. Cooking meat and spices, pine burning on campfires. I even caught a whiff of strong coffee when I passed by one tent.

I tilted my head back, marveling at the inventiveness of the long lines that stretched from tree to tree. They were hanging out laundry to dry, and the multicolored clothing amongst the trees resembled a jumble of colorful flags flying proudly in the breeze. I paused for a second, noticing that a thin layer of flakes had begun to fall, wondering how they ever got their clothing dry when it always seemed to be snowing.

Erik was just turning around to say something to us when a great shout rose up from the other end of the camp.

Someone was yelling faintly, “identify yourself!”

Erik looked tense, “Someone’s coming.”

The Queen. It had to be Eira here to kill us all. Dread settled over me like a stifling blanket of snow. She was going to charge in here and kill everyone, and it would be all my fault. Erik told me to stay back, turning and heading for the edge of the camp. That isn’t going to happen. This was my fault, I wasn’t going to let him charge in there and get killed over me. If I had to give myself up to avoid getting these people killed, I would. I’d been about to do it before, and I’d do it again. The thought filled me with dread, but I forced one foot in front of the other, following him, in spite of the glare he shot over his shoulder at me when he realized I wasn’t obeying his instructions.

 Just outside the camp, five or six men crouched in the snow, swords and spears bristling. Approaching them were three tall figures, dressed in white furs, hoods obscuring their faces. Through the whirling flakes they looked like three specters drifting through the woods towards us. It felt like they had reached in and clenched my heart with icy hands. Who were they?  Had the Queen sent assassins to kill me?

One of the rebels stepped forward and barked out, “Identify yourself or we will attack!”

A moment of loaded silence, and then the figure in the middle reached up. The hood fell back, revealing a pale face, wide blue eyes and long straight hair that was nearly as blonde as mine.