John Flanagan - The Icebound Land

But it was more than just the fighting and the extra work that had made life miserable for Will and Evanlyn. The news of the mysterious Vallasvow taken by Ragnak had been devastating for the princess. Her life was now at risk and the slightest mistake, the slightest incautious word, from either of them could mean her death. She pleaded with Will to be careful, to continue to treat her as an equal, as he always had before she told him her real identity. The least sign of deference on his part, the smallest gesture of respect, might well raise suspicions and spell the end for her.

Naturally, Will assured her that he would guard her secret. He schooled himself never to think of her as Cassandra, but always to use the name Evanlyn, even in his thoughts. But the more he tried to avoid the name, the more it seemed to want to spring unbidden to his tongue.

He lived in constant fear that he would inadvertently betray her.

The bad feeling between them, born out of boredom and frustration as much as anything, had melted away in the face of this new and very real danger. They were allies and friends again, and their resolve to help and support each other regained the strength and conviction that they had enjoyed in their brief time in Celtica.

Of course, Evanlyn's plan for ransom was now totally destroyed.

She could hardly reveal herself to a man who had sworn to kill every member of her family. That realization, coupled with her own natural resentment at being forced to do menial, unpleasant work, made her life on Skorghijl miserable. The one bright spot in her life was Will-always cheerful, always optimistic, always encouraging. She noticed how he unobtrusively took the worst, messiest jobs for himself whenever possible and she was grateful for it. Thinking back on the way she had treated him a few days earlier, she felt ashamed. But when she tried to apologize-and she was straightforward enough to admit that she had been in the wrong-he dismissed it with a laugh.

"We're all a little cabin crazy," he said. "The sooner we get away, the better."

He still planned to escape, and she realized she must accompany him. She knew he had something in mind, but he was still working on his plan and so far he hadn't told her the details.

For now, the evening meal was over and there was a massive sack full of wooden platters, spoons and mugs to clean in the seawater and fine gravel at the water's edge. Sighing, she bent to pick them up.

She was exhausted and the thought of crouching ankle-deep in the cold water while she scrubbed at the grease was almost too much to bear.

"I'll do those," Will said quietly. He glanced around to make sure none of the Skandians were watching, then took the heavy sack from her.

"No," she protested. "It's not fair:" But he held up a hand to stop her.

"There's something I want to check anyway. This will be good cover," he said. "Besides, you've had a bad couple of days. Go and get some rest." He grinned. "If it makes you feel any better, there'll be plenty of washing up to do tomorrow. And the next day. You can do it all while I skive off."

She gave him a tired smile and touched his hand in gratitude. The thought of just stretching out on her hard bunk and doing nothing was almost too good to be true.

"Thanks," she said simply. His grin widened and she knew he was genuinely glad that relations between them were back to normal.

"At least our hosts are enthusiastic eaters," he said cheerfully.

"They don't leave too much on the plates."

He slung the sack and its clattering contents over his shoulder and headed for the beach. Smiling to herself, Evanlyn stooped and entered the lean-to.

Jarl Erak emerged from the noisy, smoke-filled mess hut and took a deep breath of the cold sea air. Life on the island was getting him down, particularly with Slagor not pulling his weight in maintaining discipline. The man was a useless drunk, Erak thought angrily. And he was no warrior-it was common knowledge that he selected only lightly defended targets for his raids and never took part in the fighting.

Erak had just been forced to intervene between one of his own men and one of Wolf Fang 's crew of criminals. Slagor's man had been using a set of loaded dice, and when challenged, he had drawn his saxe knife on the other Skandian.

Erak had stepped in and knocked the Wolf Fang crewman senseless with one massive fist. Then, in order to show an evenhanded approach, he was forced to knock his own man out as well.

Evenhandedness, Skandian style, he thought wearily. A left hook and a right cross. He heard the scrunch of feet in the gravel of the beach and looked up to see a dark figure heading toward the water's edge. He frowned thoughtfully. It was the Araluen boy. Stealthily, he began to follow the boy. He heard the clatter of plates and mugs being spilled on the beach, then the sound of scrubbing. Maybe he was just doing the washing up, he thought. Maybe not. Stepping carefully, he worked his way a little closer.

Erak's concept of stealth didn't quite match Ranger standards.

Will was scrubbing the platters when he heard the massively built Skandian approaching. Either that, he thought, or a walrus was beaching itself on the shingle.

Turning to look up, he recognized the bulky form of Erak, made even larger in the darkness by the bearskin cloak he wore against the biting cold of the wind. Uncertainly, Will began to rise from his crouched position, but the Jarl waved him back. "Keep on with your work," he said gruffly. Will continued to scrub, watching the Skandian leader out of the corner of his eye as he gazed across the anchorage and sniffed at the storm-borne air.

"Stinks in there," Erak muttered finally.

"Too many people in too small a space," Will ventured, eyes down and scrubbing at the plate. Erak interested him. He was a hard man and a pitiless fighter. But he was not actually cruel. Sometimes, in a gruff way, he could seem almost friendly. Erak, in turn, studied Will.

What was he up to? He was probably trying to figure out a way to escape, Erak thought. That's what he'd be doing in the boy's place.

The apprentice Ranger was smart and resourceful. He was also determined. Erak had seen the way he stuck to his grueling exercise program, out running on the beach in fair weather or foul.

Once again he felt that sense of regard for the apprentice Ranger-and the girl. She'd shown plenty of grit too.

The thought of the girl made him frown. Sooner or later, there'd be trouble in that quarter. Particularly with Slagor and his men. The crew of Wolf Fang was a sorry lot-jailbirds and minor criminals for the most part. Good crewmen wouldn't sign with Slagor. Well, he thought philosophically, if it happened, he'd have to bang a few heads together. He wasn't going to have his authority challenged by a rabble like Slagor's men. The two slaves were Erak's property. They'd be his only profit from this disastrous trip to Araluen, and if anyone tried to damage either one, they'd answer to him. As he had the thought, he tried to tell himself that he was only protecting his investment. But he wasn't sure it was entirely true.

"Jarl Erak?" the boy said in the darkness, uncertainty in his tone as he wondered whether he should ask questions of the Skandian leader.

Erak grunted. The sound was noncommittal but Will took it as permission to continue.

"What was the Vallasvow Jarl Slagor spoke of?" he asked, trying to sound casual. Erak frowned at the title.

"Slagor's no jarl," he corrected the boy. "He's merely a skirl, a captain of a wolfship."

"I'm sorry," Will said humbly. The last thing he wanted to do was make Erak angry. Obviously, by referring to Slagor as his equal, Will had risked that. He hesitated, but Erak's annoyance seemed to have abated, so he asked again.

"And the Vallasvow?" he prompted.