But Bjorn’s dragon still roars inside him that his father dismissed us like that. I don’t blame him, as we all watch where the asshole went.
Bjorn’s father, a hard-hearted kinslayer at best.
A cold-blooded murderer at worst.
3
CHALLENGE
We’re returned to our tower cells in the fortress, this time by Captain Olander Mortensen himself rather than any underlings. As Bjorn, Ström, and I are shown just to my cell now, rather than keeping us apart in separate prisons anymore, I know it’s a boon that we’re all together.
I’m stewing about our audience with the Jarl, though. We didn’t get to present our case that we were chasing something truly dangerous when we came looking for information in Magnussen lands and disturbed that underground dragon-cairn.
I didn’t get to show the Jarl my Blood Seal from the King, especially not in front of his court, using their opinion to sway him. Now, we’re stuck in prison again, our only sympathetic ear Captain Olander Mortensen as he shuts the magical ironwork door and turns away.
Before he goes, however, I growl, making him look back, though I don’t dare touch the cursed bars of the cell.
“This is bullshit.” I stare Captain Olander down now. “We need a phone call. We need to speak with our King, now.”
“I’m sorry. It’s now the Jarl’s orders that you three get no phone calls.There’s nothing I can do,” the captain says with a truly apologetic look at me, then Bjorn, as my First Drake moves forward to stand at my side.
“You know who your real Jarl is, Olander,” Bjorn says with quiet authority now as he stares his once-friend down. “Do what’s right and let us go. I can get Rikyava and Ström to the border. Just give us a chance.”
“I’m sorry, Bjorn,” Captain Olander says as a sad gaze overtakes him. “I wanted to support you when you threw down your father over a hundred years ago, but he was right; our ancient ways are law. After your battle, you walked away from dealing the final blow, so he still had the authority to Outcast you…and he did.”
As Bjorn gives a low growl, frustration simmering off him in waves, I step in towards Captain Olander. “Call the King; confirm his Blood Seal, please. Dosomething. Or have your Hög Skjaldmær’s blood on your hands, along with the Jarl-Heir of a powerful neighboring clan. You know both are dangerous business. Time to choose.”
“Fuck.” As the captain heaves a hard breath, I know I’ve gotten through to him, though I still don’t know how far his help will extend. “Fine. I’ll try to get our King on the phone, but don’t get your hopes up. If I were you three, I’d be working on a back-up plan right about now. Our Jarl is in a bad mood after everything that’s happened. I wouldn’t count on him being lenient with Bjorn any more.”
“An execution judgement?” Bjorn asks now as the two once-friend’s gazes connect.
“If he can’t take all three of your heads for how deeply you pissed him off right now, he’ll just take yours, Bjorn,” Captain Olander says with a tired sadness as they watch each other. “You know I’m right.”
“He’ll get me out of the way, once and for all,” Bjorn says, terse now, as he heaves a sigh.
“I’m sorry, old friend.” Captain Olander give a wry smile. “I’d get you out of this if I could.”
“Just try to call the King. That’s all we ask, and it hasn’t been forbidden by my father yet,” Bjorn says as he stares the other man down.
“No, it hasn’t.” As the captain nods, I know he’ll do as we’ve asked. His gaze is like looking at a man destined for the gallows as he watches Bjorn one last time, then turns away.
As he moves off down the hall, no guards needed on our door since it’s magically sealed and we’re still in manacles, I feel like a death knell has gone off inside me. We escaped the craziness of the dragon-cairn to be thrust right into this new life-or-death situation.
Out of the frying pan, into the fire.
“Well. This is shitty.” Ström’s chuckle says it all as he sets his hands on his hips, shaking his head. “At least they decorated the place a bit, if we’ll be staying here a while.”
I follow his gaze and see that my tower cell has indeed been nicened up. Not only are Bjorn, Ström, and I allowed to see each other and room together now, albeit with our manacles still on, we’ve been given a few amenities to make our stay more comfortable, probably the captain’s doing.
We’ve got not one, but three cots with thick wool blankets and furs on them now, suitable for the cold. A massive multi-bear rug has been spread in the center of the space, a low resin-burning brazier blazing nearby. A clean, magically flushing chamber pot has been set by the far wall, and three steaming trays of food wait for us on a low table.
It’s not the Red Letter Hotel Paris, but it’s enough. Ström gestures to the food and we head over, taking the low table and moving it to the bear rug so we can sit by the fire and eat.
And decide what we’re going to do next.
“Think Captain Mortensen will do as we’ve asked?” I ask Bjorn now, as we eat a hearty venison stew with plenty of buttered bread and roast bear meat on the side, plus some spicy baked carrots.
“He’s got no reason not to.” Bjorn eats stolidly, like a man having his last meal. “My father hasn’t forbidden it, and he doesn’t know about the King’s Blood Seal yet, so he has no reason to stop Olander. Hopefully, Olle can get through.”
