Nena by Ann Boelter (digital book reader txt) 📕

“If it is a small group. I would assume it to be a scouting party sent to track me. I told you I feared pursuit when we escaped.”

“But you said they were near the Great Sea. Why would they travel so far to retrieve two escaped prisoners?” Lothor asked.

“They knew I held a great ransom value. They were probably hoping to recapture us before we made it here.”

Everyone nodded in agreement. It made sense.

“Once they see I have returned safely home, they should not stay.”

“Then why are they setting up camp?”

“Our pace was very hurried. They will need to rest and gather supplies. After that is done, I would expect them to leave and return to the others. I often heard them discussing their trip back to their home in the north. They travel by rivers and must make it back through all of them before they freeze. Otherwise they will be trapped somewhere along the way. They were still ahead of schedule when I escaped, but every day that passes now, is precious time lost. They will have to leave soon or risk not making it home at all.”

The first foraging parties brought back good news to the small Northman camp. The lands surrounding them were rich with game and wild vegetables. The river that trickled out of the canyon created lush meadows and thick stands of trees for miles until it reached the great plains. Such land could sustain even their full force for months, and with just the few of them, indefinitely.

Jarl concentrated on his primary order of business—to find a way in. He sent scouting parties to examine the Teclan defenses in both directions, then rode out himself to make his own observations and try to come up with a strategy. He knew they were too small a force to fight their way in through the cliff gates. Besides, if the legends were correct, that tactic hadn’t proven successful for anyone with larger forces in the past. He needed a plan—an alternate route, a diversion, or some way to sneak past the guards. None was forthcoming. Every day the scouts returned with reports that mirrored the information he noted on his own forays. The jagged cliffs extended for miles in both directions. The mountain was an impenetrable fortress.

“How long are we going to stay here?” Tryggr asked one night after they had finished their meal of roasted grouse, steamed grains, and tender cattail shoots dug from the nearby muddy marsh. “Not that I’m in any hurry to leave,” he added. “I must admit, since we stopped that insane pace, this has become an extremely pleasant respite for me. The food is plentiful. The work is easy and the nights are...relaxing.” Tryggr leaned back and stretched. “If only we had some ale,” he sighed. “Or some mead.”

“You were the one in charge of packing,” Jarl reminded him as Altene removed their empty plates.

“Your orders were to travel light. That usually doesn’t mean ale.”

“A lot of good that did,” Jarl grumbled. “What did she beat us here by? A week?”

Tryggr didn’t respond to Jarl’s exaggeration. “Back to my original question. How long are we going to stay?”

“Until I get her back.”

Tryggr nodded and pulled at his beard as he digested that information. “Well, we’ll have to move camp or start sending scouts on longer trips to probe their defenses further away. They’re dug in pretty tight here, and we’ve found no weak spot for miles in either direction. Maybe further around to the southwest,” he suggested. “Or northwest, who knows.” He shrugged. “It’s just not going to be here.” When there was no acknowledgment from Jarl verifying the wisdom of such a move, he continued. “Or do you have another plan? Perhaps you are hoping that by some miracle, out of that whole mountain she knows you are here and will take pity on you? Or is so in love with you that she will suddenly change her mind and come back?”

“She knows I am here,” Jarl said.

“If you are certain of that, then…um…not to point out the obvious, but she isn’t coming out, Jarl. That, when combined with how she ran here without pause to escape you in the first place—to me, might indicate she doesn’t wish to see you. But perhaps you see it as a sign of something else?” Tryggr asked.

Jarl did not respond.

Tryggr scratched his head. “Do you intend to camp here and hope until you are gray? What has happened to you?” he asked his voice softer. “Look at yourself, man. You’re acting completely irrational. This is not you. I’ve been your friend for a long time, and I’m speaking to you now in that capacity. I cannot say I understand what you are feeling, because honestly I don’t have an inkling, but one thing is clear to me—she’s not coming back to you. You must see that. Whatever you think you had with her, it was false.

“Look at the facts. At the first opportunity she left you. Then she rode so fast, even the gods themselves would have had a hard time keeping up with her. Those are not the actions of a woman who is unsure of purpose. She is lost to you, my friend. And all the hoping and waiting in the world isn’t going to change that, nor is it going to reduce the number of warriors lining that ridge.”

“Gratitude, Tryggr, for your counsel and for your loyalty. Know that I do hear you, but you are wrong about one important thing. She is not lost to me until she is dead—or I am—and maybe not even then.”

Tryggr shook his head.

Nena stared up at the loom. Every morning she approached it with the same dread as one would approach a torture rack. She was sure the mental torture she endured throughout the day was no less than any physical torture she could imagine from