Nena by Ann Boelter (digital book reader txt) 📕

Jarl’s expression was one of such shock, Altene proceeded in a rush, eager and sure that she was on the right path. He had been clear about how he felt about children. How had he worded it when she herself had suggested giving him a son—a crying babe was the last thing he wanted?

“She asked me if there was an herb to shed the baby,” Altene lied. “There is, but I did not give it to her.”

“Why did you not tell me this yesterday?”

“You were going to battle. I did not wish for you to be upset or distracted. I could not bear for an enemy’s sword to find you because of my careless words. And I assumed she would tell you. If she did not, I would have, of course, told you once it was safe. As I am, now.”

Thoughts exploded inside Jarl’s skull, each so huge it barely left room for the next. Was she truly pregnant? Carrying his son? With her strong blood it would have to be a son. Their son. But why had she run? She seemed happy.

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Gunnar and Tryggr. Both men still wore their bloody armor.

“Nena is gone.” Jarl explained their sudden summons. “Tryggr, find our best tracker and have him locate her trail. Have him begin his search to the south, where apparently the spare horses got out earlier today. Then ready a small contingent of men. We’re going after her. Gunnar, you are in charge until we return.”

“How long will we be gone, so I know what supplies to take?” Tryggr asked, surprisingly without any argument.

“As long as it takes. But we travel light,” Jarl said, then turned to Altene. “Change into whatever garb you can ride in. You’re coming with us and it will not be an easy pace.” He turned on his heel and went to re-saddle his stallion.

Jarl stood next to his horse, on the south side of the rope picket fence, with a small group of men and Altene, waiting for the tracker’s results. He boiled with impatience and had to school himself repeatedly to remain still. He watched his stallion tearing off large mouthfuls of grass with his teeth, barely seeming to chew, before he took another bite. He knew the horse was hungry after the long day, and normally would have removed the stallion’s bridle so the bit would not interfere with his eating, but he wanted no delay when the tracker finally gave the signal—not even the few seconds it would take to put the horse’s bridle back on.

Even now he wanted to mount up and ride—to be making some progress toward finding her, rather than sitting still. He knew Nena would ride south. That was home to her, and that was where his men had reported the horses had escaped. He was sure it was not a coincidence. Still he waited for the tracker’s confirmation. He could ill afford a mistake now. She already had a significant head start, and if he charged off in the wrong direction on a hunch, he might never find her.

He glanced around with approval at the men Tryggr had assembled. They were his best fighters, though many were already clearly exhausted from the day’s battle. It could not be helped. The tracker whistled and motioned for them to follow. He had picked up Nena’s trail heading south.

“Finally.” Jarl released an agitated breath. He remounted and rode after the tracker, holding his stallion to half a dozen lengths behind the other man’s horse so as not to interfere with his scrutiny. The tracker maintained the lead at a long trot, his eyes remaining fixed on the ground.

They followed Nena’s trail southward for an hour at the same pace when suddenly the tracker slowed and held up his hand for them to stop. Jarl watched as the man followed tracks in a new direction for several hundred yards, then rode in large circles, before returning to give his report.

“She’s turned due west,” the tracker said. “I don’t know why. There’s no change in the terrain ahead that she would have to go around, but she’s definitely heading west now, and her tracks don’t double back.”

“That can’t be right. She’ll go south, like she has been,” Jarl disagreed.

“I’m not mistaken, Jarl. The mare has a unique hoof print and an odd stride. Her back hooves are longer and narrower than a normal horse. And where most horses’ back feet step into the same tracks made by their front, her back feet fully overstep her front tracks by several inches. These are her tracks heading west,” the tracker reaffirmed. “And there are no human tracks splitting off, like they let the horse go to throw us off the trail.”

Jarl did not doubt the last part. He knew Nena would never give up the mare.

“Maybe she’s lost,” Tryggr suggested. “Got turned around. She is a woman after all.”

Jarl shook his head. “She’s Teclan. She won’t be lost.” But where was she going?

THE ESCAPE HAD been easier than Nena imagined possible. Other than the brief scare with the guard at the mare’s pen, everything had gone according to plan. The men left behind to guard the camp had been so preoccupied with the battle they were missing, and spread so thin, no one had noticed them. She and the girl had ridden south for an hour when Nena drew in rein. She could safely change directions here. Feeling the strong pull of her home to the south, she hesitated a long moment before turning the mare west. She knew what she had to do.

She had known it from the moment she had seen the last X on Jarl’s map.

For three days they had followed her rambling trail. First south, then west, then north. It made no sense to him, and that worried Jarl as much as anything. Where was she going? Was