Lord of Raven's Peak (Viking Era 3)

“Over the side,” Taby said, his voice small and shaking, yet Merrik understood. He set him on the ground, then raced to the edge of the cliff. He saw Cleve some fifteen feet down, his body tangled in an outgrowing bush, unconscious.

“By all the gods, he has fallen.”

Oleg quickly unrolled the rope. “I will get him,” Merrik said as he tied the rope about his waist.

Oleg grabbed Merrik’s arm. “Listen to me. That bush doesn’t look very strong and you are very big, Merrik. Best to let Eller go.”

Merrik nodded slowly. Then he shouted, “Quickly, Eller, quickly.”

Oleg and Roran held the rope as they eased Eller down the sharp face of the cliff.

“The bush is pulling free,” Laren said, staring down.

“No,” Merrik said. “The bush will remain until we have freed Cleve.” And she believed him. She fell to her knees and took Taby in her arms. “You did well,” she said to him as she kissed his filthy cheek, stroking her hands up and down his back. “Can you tell me what happened? Did Cleve fall?”

Suddenly Taby stiffened in her arms. He lowered his head.

“Taby?” It was Merrik. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Taby said, his face still buried in Laren’s neck. She felt his tears on her flesh.

Merrik looked baffled. He shook his head, frowning in some bewilderment down at the boy, then walked to the

cliff edge. Eller was balanced, just barely, and was tying the rope around Cleve’s waist.

It was slow, agonizing work. Eller looked none too happy to hold on to that scrubby bush, knowing that if it gave, he would plunge some three hundred feet to the rocks and fjord below, but he worked quickly, his fingers steady and calm. Finally it was done. It was Merrik who grasped Cleve beneath his arms and dragged him over the top of the cliff. “Quickly,” he said, “get that rope back to Eller before he shames himself and pisses in his trousers.”

Laren was at Cleve’s side. There was blood on the side of his head, over his right temple. He was still alive, thank the gods, but just barely. “Do you think he tripped and fell over the edge?” she said.

“I don’t know,” Merrik said. “What was he doing up here alone? What was Taby doing here?”

Merrik lifted Cleve into his arms and they began their slow descent back down the long steep path to the longhouse.

Cleve remained unconscious until late that evening. Then he was addled in his mind, crying out in a strange language, then begging for someone not to leave him, pleading until Laren thought her heart would break. She forced broth down his throat as Sarla gently bathed his face with cool water to keep away the fever.

There was much talk, much speculation, voices not low now, for all remembered that it was there Erik had been found, dead, a rock having smashed in his head. They had all believed that Deglin had done it. Had someone else then struck Cleve and shoved him over? And what of Taby? All wondered about Taby and what he had seen, but the child wouldn’t say anything, even to Merrik.

That night, Laren and Sarla took turns staying by Cleve’s bed. But it was Taby who refused to leave him at all, curling up beside him to sleep through the night.

Hallad tried to coax his small son away from Cleve, but Taby remained stubbornly silent. He would say nothing nor would he leave Cleve.

“He will awaken, I know he will,” Laren said to Sarla, who was so pale Laren feared for her health. “Go sleep now, and I will stay with him.”

“Nay, ’tis you who are exhausted. You also carry a child and I do not. You go rest now, Laren, I will stay with Cleve.”

Laren looked into Sarla’s shadowed eyes and slowly nodded. She gently shook Taby’s shoulder. “Come, little sweeting, we will go to our own beds now. If you like, you can sleep with Merrik and me.”

Taby was awake immediately. He didn’t blink or yawn. He looked from his sister to Cleve to Sarla.

He shook his head. “No, Laren, I wish to stay here, with Cleve.”

She started to pull him off the box bed, but the look in his eyes stayed her hand. “Very well, but remain quiet. He is very ill.”

“I know.” The child curled up against Cleve, his small palm over Cleve’s heart.

“Sarla will become ill,” Hallad said. “She is too pale and there are shadows beneath her eyes. She is very quiet, even withdrawn. None of it is her fault. I do not understand why she is so struck with this man’s accident. Speak to her, Laren.”

“Father, I believe she and Cleve were becoming close even before Merrik and and I went to Normandy.”