Ensnared (Knights of Brethren #3)(52)

Chapter

24





Mikaela


I gasped for each breath, but I couldn’t draw in enough air to satisfy my body. My muscles had turned as wobbly as custard, and I would have tripped and fallen by now if not for Sven holding me aloft. His grip upon my arm didn’t waver. In fact, the longer we ran, the more he seemed to bear my weight, half-carrying me through the dangerous forest.

No matter how far we ran, the jotunn’s crashing and cursing came only steps behind us. I didn’t know what he would demand if he caught us, but I guessed that the next time I wouldn’t be able to so easily distract him and sway him to do my bidding.

“We are almost there.” Sven still held the torch.

“Please, God.” I lifted a prayer that we would make it. Even more, I prayed Gunnar had survived his trip out of the forest with Frans.

“We must go faster, child.” Sven tugged against me. “Just a little faster.”

I tried to make my legs obey my command to hasten their steps, but I was simply too worn from the hour or more of endless running.

“A light, ahead.” Sven’s breathlessness told me he was nearing the end of his endurance too.

A faint illumination broke through the branches.

“Mikaela?” came a familiar voice.

My heart tumbled over itself. Gunnar. He was still alive.

“Get back out of the forest, nephew!” Sven’s shout echoed above the jotunn’s noise. “You are not safe.” Sven didn’t have to elaborate for me to understand that because Gunnar had escaped from the trap, the jotunn would want Gunnar more than any of us.

I opened my mouth to add my warning to Sven’s, but I couldn’t formulate any words past my constricted airways.

The light didn’t waver, only drew nearer. As it did, panic pushed up into my throat. After coming this far, we couldn’t let the jotunn draw any of us under his strange control. With a burst of fresh determination, I pushed myself harder, picking up my pace.

Only a moment later, Gunnar came into view. He was sprinting toward us, still favoring his injured leg. With his sights set on the forest behind us, he tossed his torch into the brush over our shoulders. Fire sprang to life amidst the windfall. I prayed it would pose a barrier to the jotunn and that he wouldn’t find a way around it.

Gunnar didn’t wait to find out. Without a word of greeting, he scooped me up, tossed me over his shoulder, and sprinted back the way he’d come.

I couldn’t squeeze out a sound. All I could do was grasp at his tunic and allow him to carry me. From my odd angle, I could see Sven’s bare feet right behind Gunnar and realized then that the older man had slowed his pace for me and was now moving much faster.

Within seconds of sprinting, the jotunn’s shouting and bellowing began to fade. And within another minute, the cracking of twigs and our labored breathing filled the silence.

As we finally broke through the last of the brush and reached the forest edge, Gunnar abruptly stopped. His chest was rising and falling with the exertion of carrying me. “I will come back for you, Sven. I vow I will find a way to break the jotunn’s curse over you.”

Sven didn’t seem to be listening and jogged past Gunnar.

“Sven, wait!” Gunnar called as he placed my feet back on the ground. He lurched after Sven, but the older man was moving too rapidly and darted through the last of the tangled overgrowth into the clearing.

Gunnar grabbed my hand, and scrambled to follow Sven. Obviously, Gunnar didn’t know that I’d bargained with the jotunn and asked him to free Sven of the curse and place it instead on his firstborn son.

Even with the exchange, I watched anxiously as Sven came to a standstill in the grassy field, his torch outstretched. So many questions filled my head. Had Sven really been cursed? Or had it only been a scare tactic the jotunn had used to keep him from leaving the forest? If the curse was true, would Sven fall over and die at any moment?

Not far away, Frans lay in his litter on the ground, still unconscious. The moonlight revealed agony in his face. And I knew we needed to get him help right away.

But first, we stopped beside Sven and watched him for any sign that he was still cursed.

Sven stood straight and waited too, clearly expecting something to happen at any moment.

“I take it you made a deal with the jotunn to release Sven’s curse?” Gunnar’s question was low and tense, as though he feared what I’d done.

I drew in a shaky breath and nodded. “I gave him Maiken’s shell.”

“The jotunn accepted it?” Although Gunnar knew what the shell meant to me, since I’d shared the story with him long ago when we’d been but children, I understood why he’d question the value of such an insignificant item to the jotunn.

“Yes. I required him to change the curse first.”

“Change?”

“To pass it along to Sven’s firstborn son.”

Gunnar placed a hand on Sven’s back. “How do you feel?”

“I have not tasted blood yet.”

“Then perhaps you are safe.” Gunnar’s voice contained a note of hope.

The older man’s chest was heaving, but he remained upright, his shoulders back, his chin high. From this angle, without his scars showing, his face appeared noble, almost regal in spite of his ragged garments and unkempt body and hair.