Beyond the Third End: The Midgard Born Series, #1

Chapter 1

SIRI STRETCHED OUT her arm, leaned down and grabbed onto Mo’s hand. Their palms slapped together harder than she’d intended. It hurt, but that couldn’t be helped. There was no time for finesse when you were trying to escape. She ignored the fleeting pain and heaved, her muscles taking the strain with ease. Lifting Mo up and onto the wall was not a problem. His frame was slight, his bones almost bare, and her body was much stronger than it looked. She hardly felt his weight. At any other time, that fact would have made her sad, but emotions would be a distraction.

Mo’s sandal dropped from his left foot onto the dusty ground as he scrambled to gain purchase on the last arm’s length of the wall and help himself over the edge. They didn’t try to retrieve it. Time was of the essence. Their lives were at risk. She could hear the angry voices of the traders bearing down upon them — a group that was growing by the moment, with anyone who enjoyed a chase, or cheering on the pursuers. This was no way to live a life.

They ran faster than was sensible along the uneven surface of the decaying bricks, balancing with their arms, accidentally kicking loose particles with their feet every few steps. Mo didn’t falter, or slow down, even though it must’ve been agony for him with the jagged surface digging into his bare foot. It made her proud.

The voices of the traders began to fade into the distance. Their youth gave them an advantage over the men and women whose stodgy bodies had been fattened by wealth, but that didn’t mean they were safe. Traders were cleverer than they looked. Almost as clever as those who stole from them. Just because they couldn’t easily be seen, didn’t mean they had given up. Just because they couldn’t be heard, didn’t mean there wasn’t a trap around the next corner. But she and her brother, they knew all the tricks. So they didn’t stop. They didn’t slow down. They tried not to look behind.

When they reached the point at which they’d entered the town, they jumped down off the wall, using the old, discarded wooden chest they’d already upended to halve the distance to the ground, and proceeded to run across the wide-open expanse of rock-hard soil that made up this part of the plains. The plains that covered half the landscape of their world and were often places of death, rather than life. They needed to reach where the dusty ground gave way to a slightly less barren patch. It wasn’t green. Nothing could be called green in the constant twilight of the Days of Dark. The trees and bushes, however sparse, would help to hide them from the view of anyone who was still looking. There would still be people looking.

Siri glanced up at the sky. The slight hint of light they called day was beginning to fade. Soon it would be true night. Inky black when the moon didn’t grace the space, which was often. Then, the traders would stop the chase. Then, she and Mo would have other things to worry about.

Mo stumbled and fell to the ground in front of her. Without stopping, she leaned down, grabbed his hand and whisked him upright until his flailing legs could take over.

Not long now, she said.

He didn’t reply. He needed his breath.

When they reached the clump of spiky bushes, Siri ducked down behind them and looked back. She scanned the horizon as best she could. There were no burning torches that she could see, only the hint of glowing fires from within the town’s boundary.

They’ll be setting up the defences now, Mo said, they won’t be coming after us.

I hope you’re right.

He probably was. They would have guards along the perimeter. They would have defences. At night, there were many things worse than petty thieves to deal with.

Siri turned full circle. In the far distance, she could see the tiny flicker of a campfire, too far away to worry about. Apart from that, the scene was calm.

Hey, Mo called.

In his hand was a scrap of material they’d used to mark the place from which to take fifty paces north, then ten east. It was far enough away from the marker not to be obvious, but not so far that they could get it wrong. They counted out the steps, then removed their hand picks from their pouches and began to dig. The ground was still soft from where they’d dug it before, even though they’d tamped it down well. Every time she held her breath until the clutch of items poked through the soil. They pulled out their belongings. One tattered blanket. A single change of clothes each. One cooking pot. Two battered bowls that also served as cups. A small comb with several teeth broken along its length. A few tools, including a solitary hunting knife that Siri was practised at throwing. A carving of a wolf that their father had once given to her, and that she’d now passed on to Mo. It wasn’t much, but losing any of it would be devastating.

Again, she glanced back towards the town. We’re too close to risk starting a fire.

Mo nodded and sighed.

Siri took out the strips of dried meat they’d managed to grab from the unobservant trader, while Mo crept down to a nearby stream with the pan. She carefully divided it up into meals, the minimum they could survive on until they found something better. A mouse needed more to live on than they had, but it was food and she knew she ought to be grateful. There were many days they’d sat by a stream filling their empty stomachs with nothing but water. She wished she were better at hunting anything larger than a piglet.

When Mo returned, they tore at the strips with their teeth and washed the dry scraps down with gulps of water. The meat was tough. It hurt her jaw to chew so much before she could swallow, but hunger was enough to make any food palatable.

Are we moving on tomorrow? Mo said.

I think we’ve outstayed our welcome here.

Her little brother likely nodded, but she could barely see his outline. The clouds had come over and obliterated any remaining hint of light. She shuffled closer to him, flicked out the blanket for them to huddle beneath and hoped that they might survive another night.

You go to sleep now, she said, and Mo snuggled in next to her.

Wake me up when it’s my turn to be lookout.

It was a ritual perpetuated for comfort.

They both knew she wouldn’t.

SOME DAYS, THEY were lucky. The next morning brought with it greater light in the skies. Some places even showed a gentle pink glow. Perhaps, the Days of Light were near. Siri had lost count of how long it had been since she’d seen the sun in the sky. It seemed like the Days of Dark had gone on forever. But, no matter the weather, they would set out on their usual track, heading in a northerly direction.

Their route wasn’t always direct, especially when they had to deviate to acquire supplies, but north was their ultimate aim. Neither of them knew why, but it had been ingrained in them by their father. He seemed to think the north was a kind of promised land — a place of abundance and happiness that would solve all their problems. Siri doubted that. She sometimes thought he’d been clutching onto a belief many others had already lost. Siri had no true belief, but she had no reason to head in any other direction. Mo was more devout to the cause. He was always grumpy when they took a detour. One day, they’d come to the end of the land and reach the seas that she imagined roiled in perfect unison with the skies, but until that moment, when they could go no further, they continued on their path. They had never seen the sea. Few people had.

At every bush they passed, they searched for berries they could eat. Usually, there weren’t any, but once in a while Mo would squeak with delight. Berries were not a feast, nor a delicacy. A few mouthfuls at the most was all they ever found. But they were usually sweet and there was very little sweet in their lives. If the Days of Light didn’t come soon, there would be no berries left, at all. Plants couldn’t live on night alone.

They walked all day, seeing no one, which wasn’t unusual. Most people stayed in the towns, or in encampments where many others lived. Lone travellers were generally those who’d been cast out and were to be avoided. People travelling in large groups were also to be avoided. Her father had told her tales of slavers. She would rather die.

They rarely spoke to a soul. They rarely spoke to each other. What was there to say?

The next night, when they set up camp, they decided they would light a fire. Their father’s precious firesteel, with a carving of fighting serpents across the finger rings, was battered and worn. It was one of their most precious tools and never let them down. The crackle-dry brush that Siri collected flamed instantly and there was plenty of wood lying on the ground to feed it. Wood from trees that had died long ago. Wood from great forests that once existed on this land and had been flattened in the great battle of The Third End, or so it was said.

It took Mo a while to find water. There were no streams nearby, so they had to use other means. He dug down beneath the soil to quite a depth before the water began to bubble into the hole he’d made and, even then, it was only a trickle. They decided to chew the dried meat cold again, and to use the water purely for drinking.

Not long after they’d settled, Siri noticed another fire in the distance. It could’ve been the same traveller she’d noticed the previous night, but she realised they were significantly closer now. Not close enough that you might expect a raid, under normal circumstances, but uncomfortably close for her. It was usually men that travelled alone and men saw them both as easy prey. She shivered. She tried to remove those kinds of thoughts from her mind.

I think we’ll be doing some tracking tomorrow, she said to Mo, you up for that?

Mo’s eyes sparkled in the firelight. When have I ever not been up for tracking?

About time you caught something. She dug her elbow into his ribs.

His cheeks puffed out into a pout. Not fair. You always take over.

We do have to eat. Tracking isn’t a game. But we’re not tracking animals this time. Although, they sorely needed better food. I want to know who that is. She nodded at the flicker of light in the distance. Mo nodded back. He understood.

Siri sat the whole night worrying, not even allowing herself to lie down in case sleep overtook her, which it sometimes did. No one could go without sleep forever. What if they were also being observed? It would be easy enough for someone to circle around from that distance. They would never know until it was too late. She needed to stay alert.

Nothing happened.

At the first sliver of light in the sky, which turned out to be the best they were going to get and not nearly as good as the previous day, they set off at a fast rate. It wasn’t long before Mo found tracks, but they weren’t what they had expected. He scratched at his head and looked back at her. She knelt down and lifted a pinch of soil to her nose. It wasn’t a person on their own. Not more than one person, either. A person, male from the size of their shoes, and a wolf.

They studied the wolf prints for a long time.

Could be a dog, Siri said, but she didn’t believe it. The prints were large.

Mo shook his head. It’s a wolf. She smiled, despite her worry. But why would a wolf be with a person?

Indeed. What reason could a man have for travelling with a wolf? Why would a wolf want to travel with a man? It didn’t make sense. Man was prey to a wolf. Wolves moved in packs. Very few were domesticated. They were too unpredictable. And wolves were hunters. Her internal danger alert moved up a level.

Perhaps, we should skirt around them, she said.

Mo looked at her with wide eyes, Have you forgotten everything we were taught? No, she hadn’t, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have her own thoughts. We need to find out who they are. We can’t have them near us without knowing who they are.

Mo almost sounded like their father when he said those words. A lump caught in her throat. She pushed it back down with a gulp of air. All right, but we can’t get too close.

We’ll be fine. We’re downwind. They won’t even know we’re here.

Oh, so no one else in the whole of Midgard gets a prickle on their neck when someone’s behind them? Or can see fires blazing in the dark of night?

Mo raised his arms and then slapped them back down against his thighs. He shook his head. He was right. Their father had been right. They needed to track this unusual pair and find out what they were up to before passing them by. Their only hope was that the wind continued to blow from a direction that was favourable to them.

By the time they were hungry for more food, what Siri reckoned was midday, it was obvious they were travelling much faster than the two they pursued. They had become visible elements of the landscape. The two of them sat down and took out the last of their supplies. Siri divided the food in half, put one half away, and they each took a share of the tiny morsels that were left. She wouldn’t be able to do that again. They needed to hunt. But hunting while close to others, that wasn’t a good idea. By Siri’s reckoning, they would be on top of the odd couple by the time their stomachs growled again.

They came upon them much earlier than that. They had just passed over a slight ridge, the edge of the trench a small river had cut into the soil at a time when it was wider than it was now, when they realised the pair had stopped and made camp. They crouched down and watched. It only took them a few moments to realise what had happened. The man, his back towards them, was dragging a young hog over to a makeshift spit he’d set up. She hadn’t seen him go off to hunt, but there was a small clump of trees nearby. He had to be an expert with the spear he held to have tracked and killed his prey that quickly.

He’s strong, Mo said. He almost sounded gleeful.

And Siri wished he hadn’t said that. Denying things by not saying them out loud had always been one of her comforts.

The man turned in their direction. Siri gasped. She didn’t know if it was the faint red glow of the daylight, but his shoulder-length dark hair, as straight as a blade of grass and tied back at the nape of his neck, had shimmering copper lights running through it. She’d never seen anything like it. It was stunning, clearly, for her to even notice. She checked herself. She couldn’t be distracted. She had to think of him as danger. What he looked like was not important. What he could do was. She imagined he could do a lot, damage-wise.

She focused in and assessed the details. He was tall, above average. He was clearly very strong, but not heavily muscled like most of the men you saw on the trail. She didn’t know if that was good or bad. It simply was. He was young. It was difficult to tell if he was older than her eighteen Days of Light, but if he was, it wasn’t by much. She had never seen anyone else so young on the trail on their own. She didn’t know if that was good or bad, either.

Something moved in her peripheral vision. It was the wolf. Definitely not a dog. A full-grown wolf. It lifted its head to the sky. It was scenting.

Down, she hissed to Mo, but he’d already seen and had ducked before she did. She tested for wind direction with a small handful of sandy dirt. Quick. We need to change our position.

They scrabbled as fast as they could to what they hoped was out of scenting range, which took them to the edge of a small slope that led down to the water’s edge. If they had to move again, they were going to have a problem.

But neither the wolf nor the man took any notice of them. They were too busy focusing on the hog. She could see now that the wolf had been given a haunch, raw, while the man roasted the rest of the beast, cutting off outside chunks as it cooked, just as she would’ve done. The smell of the fat dripping onto the fire was almost too much.

They watched for a long time. The man ate, and he ate, and he ate. Siri had never seen anyone eat so much. It was like he had a stomach the size of one of those big cauldrons they used in the towns to make soups and stews for the masses. Her stomach growled so loud she thought it must have echoed across the plains. She pushed her fist into it, as if that was going to help. She longed for something good to eat. They hadn’t had fresh meat for too long. She’d almost forgotten the taste. It was what she tried to imagine their meals really tasted like as they chewed the hard, dry strips until they were soft enough to swallow. Mo looked up at her with pleading eyes. He didn’t need to say what he was thinking. He looked like a coiled snake about to pounce.

No. We can’t. It’s too dangerous.

I’d die happy with that as a last meal.

She put her arm around him, but he set his jaw hard and wrapped his own arms around his knees. She let him alone. Sometimes, young boys didn’t want comforting. Sometimes, they simply wanted to stew.

She groaned. Everything was about the food.

BEING SUSPICIOUS BY nature was a good thing, Siri reminded herself as she stared at the evacuated camp. The man and his wolf had left in the middle of the night. He had cut up what was left of the meat and placed it into his pack and the two of them had walked off into the distance.

Except, he hadn’t packed up all of the meat. As far as she could tell, there was one entire haunch left there, carefully wrapped up in a cloth, on a flat rock.

Waiting.

If she let her mind believe what she was thinking, then the man had known all along that they were there. Using every form of logical thinking she could squeeze from her brain, she decided it had to be a trap. He wanted to lure them in with the meat and capture them. For what? An extra treat for the wolf?

Her whole body shuddered.

She wanted to eat that meat so much, but she couldn’t take it. She couldn’t put Mo’s life in danger. She didn’t so much care about her own life, but his? He was too young. He didn’t deserve to die yet. Too young, because, of course, she was so old. But she was ten Days of Light older than him. More than his whole lifetime older than him. She had to take sensible decisions that didn’t involve rushing into an abandoned camp without taking any precautions. First, she had to know that the man and the wolf had really gone and that left her only one course of action.

She left Mo sleeping and began to skirt around the site to where she’d seen the pair disappear. Crouching down, she could see there were tracks heading north, in the same direction as the river flowed from that point on. She glanced back to where Mo lay, scraping at her lip with her teeth for a moment. Then, she began to follow the trail.

She spent a good while fumbling in the dark, bushes and brambles scraping at her arms and legs, constantly tripping over small stones, the cold biting at her nose, and that was when she was going slowly. Slowly, because she could barely see the trail and had to frequently bend down near the ground to work out which direction to take.

The trail continued in the same direction. There were no double backs. Although, they were still so far ahead of where she was that she couldn’t hear them and, therefore, she couldn’t be sure.