Ensnared (Knights of Brethren #3)(46)

Only then did I notice another man standing beside him, attired in rags and his face disfigured. He shot a look over his shoulder then pushed Gunnar aside to pick up the litter in his stead. “We have to keep moving.”

Who was this man? He couldn’t be the fierce jotunn everyone feared, otherwise he wouldn’t be helping Gunnar and Frans.

Gunnar started toward me. The light from the torch revealed strips of ripped tunic wrapped around his calf. Already the linen was saturated in dark red blood. Whatever had happened, he’d been badly injured.

“I told you not to come into the forest.” Gunnar’s voice rose with both anger and a note of desperation. As he reached my side, he grasped my arm and tugged me to my feet. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know. I came to keep my sister Kirstin from rushing in. She was devastated to hear about Frans.” And I’d come hoping to somehow help Gunnar. But I didn’t say so. I already looked foolish enough for thinking I could somehow face the forest and come out unscathed when no one else had been able to do so for decades.

I’d tried to make myself turn around and go back, but with voices and cries ahead on the trail, I hadn’t been able to walk away. All I’d been able to think about was that Gunnar was in need and that I might be the only one who could save him.

Gunnar began to tug me forward. “The jotunn is coming, and we can’t let him see any of us.”

As much as I wanted to stop and find out what had happened to Frans, I stumbled along behind Gunnar. “Who is this man helping you?”

“He’s my great uncle Sven.”

“Your uncle?”

“He was cast out by his kin long ago after he suffered severe burns in a fire.”

I’d never heard about an uncle being cast out. But perhaps it was part of the forbidden family history, the parts of the past that no one was allowed to talk about. “What’s he doing here?”

“He’s a prisoner of the jotunn.” Gunnar’s voice was hard and frustrated.

“Make haste.” Sven spoke breathlessly behind me, clearly struggling to carry Frans’s weight.

Gunnar moved faster so that I had to jog to keep up. “The jotunn will curse and enslave me if he catches me.”

“Curse and enslave?”

“Yes, just like Sven. After he set himself free from the trap, the jotunn cursed him so that he can never leave the forest without bleeding to death first.”

I tried to digest Gunnar’s hastily spoken explanation, but the only part that I could focus on was that the jotunn had cursed Sven and now would likely curse and enslave Gunnar.

Sven steadily fell behind us. “I think you should carry Frans and let me guide the young woman.”

Gunnar nodded. Even as they made the switch, curses and shouting bellowed nearer, almost as if we were being chased by a crowd of drunken woodcutters brandishing their axes. Gunnar picked up the litter and Frans as if he weighed no more than a baby fox. And Sven took hold of my arm, guiding me through the thick overgrowth but staying to the path Gunnar had previously cut as my torchlight guided the way.

“Perhaps Gunnar should go ahead,” I offered. “Since he is most in danger from the jotunn.”

“Everyone is in danger from the jotunn,” Sven murmured, his breathing already labored. “Even if he does not bind you to the forest as his slave, he can curse anyone who provokes him.”

“Then we will not provoke him.”

“You already have by being here, and now you must get out of the forest as quickly as possible.”

“And you too.”

“Not me. I must stay.”

“Surely we can find a way to help you escape from the jotunn’s curse.”

Holding on to my arm and directing me from behind, Sven pushed me faster. His lack of response meant only one thing: he had no intention of trying to escape with us.

“Is there any way at all we can help you break free from the jotunn?” I couldn’t imagine what his life had been like in this dangerous forest, living under the control of the jotunn.

“Do not worry about me—”

“He cannot keep you here forever.”

“He already has.”

This man wasn’t much older than Nanna. Maybe sixty years of age. How long had he lived here? Years? Maybe decades? Whatever the amount, he deserved to be set free.

Kirstin’s admonition about the jotunn—trolls—being distracted by beautiful women echoed through my mind, as it had since I’d left. What would the jotunn think if he saw me? Would he tear me asunder? Or would I be able to distract him long enough for Sven to break free and go to safety with Gunnar and Frans? Even if Sven did break free, how could he survive leaving the forest without bleeding to death?

The narrow path wound past a deep pit, and I kept myself from looking down inside, knowing I’d see more skeletons.

“What will the jotunn do to you for helping us escape?” I asked Sven.

“He will keep me alive. He always does.”

“But he’ll torture you, won’t he?”

Only Sven’s labored breathing filled the space between us. His silence was answer enough.

“Gunnar, please. Can you think of a way to help Sven?” I glanced over my shoulder to find Gunnar struggling to keep up, his limp more pronounced. His leg was injured worse than I’d realized.