Blood of the Raven: An Epic Fantasy Adventure (The Lords of Alekka Book 3)

by A. E. Rayne

  He laughed loudly, head back. ‘You think it’s been easy so far? Easy? Ha!’

  ‘You are not the only lord in Alekka who wants the throne. Who hates Ake. Who believes the gods favour him. Why should the men of The Murk surrender to you? And yet, you must not kill them. You must bend them to your will. They must see what the gods see in you. What Eskvir does. What was written on the Bear Stone about the one who would unite Alekka again.’ Mirella placed a hand on his arm guard, feeling the power surging beneath it. ‘You must listen to Ulrick Dyre.’

  That was a surprise.

  ‘Ulrick? I just met the man!’ Tarl didn’t think she was serious, but Mirella stared at him, golden hair whipping around her face, and he nodded. ‘He seems knowledgable enough, though Alvear and Offa won’t be happy.’

  Mirella didn’t care. ‘They are loyal men, I know, but sometimes it takes cooler heads to negotiate. It takes men not afraid of losing your friendship to tell you the truth. It’s something you’ve never done before. Negotiating. Remember that.’

  ‘We should go!’ Tarl called, finally bored with being spoken to like a child. Mirella was a wise woman, with visions greater than any dreamer he’d met, yet sometimes her need to control him was simply too much to bear. ‘I’ll look forward to my nights, Mirella, waiting for you to come to me. Make sure you’re naked in my dreams. I’d be far more receptive to your orders then!’ He winked at her, resisting the urge to kiss her, watching her granddaughter trying to make Solveigh smile. ‘Ha! I don’t think I’ll need to find a puppy before we leave!’

  Lotta could hear the booming lord, and she frowned, suddenly wanting a puppy more than anything. Clover was in Slussfall with Ulrick’s horse. Ulrick had placed both animals into the care of the taverner’s son, and Lotta still felt a pain in her heart when she thought of her dear pony. The taverner’s son had been young, slightly distracted, and she worried that he might have forgotten all about Clover.

  ‘My husband is leaving,’ Solveigh sighed, stating the obvious.

  ‘Well, that’s something to smile about, isn’t it?’ Lotta suggested craftily.

  Solveigh stared down at that sweet little face, and turning to her husband, who was approaching with some trepidation, she smiled.

  Lotta looked up at Tarl with triumph in her eyes, chest puffed out, enjoying the horror on his face. ‘I would like my puppy now,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

  Tarl shook his head, amusement in his eyes. ‘You’re very much like your grandmother, you know. Very much like her indeed.’ And lifting Lotta out of the way, Tarl took his wife in his arms, watching her smile fade, sensing her urgent desire to run away from him. ‘I will return victorious, my sweet, and we shall begin again. It will be another chance for us. A fresh start!’ He spoke with some effort, sensing her revulsion, but thinking of the son she was carrying, he kissed her cheek.

  Solveigh wanted to spit or fall to the ice and simply die, but she remembered what the little girl had said, and she smiled again.

  Pulling back from her, Tarl was shocked, and he stared at Lotta until he smiled himself. ‘Sverri!’ he yelled. ‘I want a puppy! Bring me a puppy now!’

  Sverri spun around, confused. ‘Pony?’

  ‘Puppy! A puppy for Solveigh’s new friend here. What’s your name, girl?’

  ‘Lotta.’

  ‘A puppy for the lovely Lotta. Bring it now!’ And hands still on Solveigh’s arms, Tarl pulled her close, kissing her again.

  Ulrick watched them, feeling odd.

  ‘You should be over there,’ Bergit muttered, trying to nudge him on his way.

  ‘I’m by my horse, woman,’ Ulrick snapped, fed up with Bergit’s fussing. He was in a foul mood, doubting every choice he’d ever made that had led him to this strange place, with a new lord and an ambitious wife.

  And no Lotta.

  He’d seen the little girl holding the Lady of Orvala’s hand, and he felt the loss of her. Though every time she looked his way, he worked hard to ignore her. She wasn’t his anymore. In truth, she’d never been his, and he’d known it all along.

  Lotta wasn’t Gala, and caring for Lotta wouldn’t bring his daughter back.

  And sighing, body throbbing with cold, Ulrick knew that it was time to let them both go.

  As the sun moved past its peak, Reinar’s fleet finally departed Slussfall. And now, after the initial excitement over the gold, and the gossip that had ensued about who would get what share, their attention was finally turning to the brutal winter weather and their journey home.

  ‘What do you think?’ Reinar wondered, wrangling his billowing cloak. The wind was playing with it as though it was a thin blanket, though weighed down by sea spray and rain, it felt as heavy as a dead sheep around his shoulders.

  Hands on the tiller, Bolli was peering at the sea as though there was a problem.

  Reinar hoped there wasn’t a problem.

  He leaned over beside him.

  ‘Looks cold.’

  Reinar grinned. ‘It does, but not frozen.’

  ‘Not yet.’

  Elin stood on Reinar’s other side, clutching his arm. ‘But what will we do if it freezes?’

  ‘Jump out and skate to shore!’ Reinar winked, pulling her close. ‘Don’t worry, we’re heading south. North is where you’ll have problems now. The sea will freeze up there first, but we’re going south.’ His confidence was high, boosted by Berger’s good fortune. Berger hadn’t been especially forthcoming about how he’d found the gold or who might have led him there, but judging by the scowl on Ilene’s face, it likely had something to do with a woman.

  Reinar shook his head, not quite believing how his luck had turned around in such a short space of time. They had defeated the Vettels twice, saved Ottby, secured Slussfall, and found a great hoard of gold. Now there was one less enemy for Ake to worry about, and Alekka was safer, its future more certain. He hoped his king could rest easy in that knowledge. And whether he had any qualms about Reinar not killing Hakon’s son, there was nothing Ake had to fear from a baby.

  Not now, at least.

  He tried to stop thinking of Ake or Alys, knowing it wouldn’t help to hold on to that which wasn’t his. He squeezed Elin, who clung to him, her hair blowing wildly, looking with some trepidation at the sea. ‘Don’t worry, we’re heading south,’ he promised again, kissing her head.

  Elin didn’t feel reassured, though she tried to shut away her fears about the sea freezing, for whatever happened, she would be with her husband, far away from Slussfall and that manipulative dreamer. Now she had the chance to start again in Ottby, as the lady of a victorious lord with chests full of gold.

  She leaned against Reinar, enjoying the bitter chill of the wind on her face, unable to stop smiling.

  Arnon was muttering in Borr’s ear, urging him to head for shore. Borr wasn’t as concerned as Alys about the sea freezing, half wondering if the woman was just trying to save her own skin.

  The rest of the crew looked far more anxious, including Borr’s son, Ebben, who had joined Magnus in the bow, both of them watching the water, searching for any signs of trouble. Magnus smiled at Ebben, enjoying his company, then catching a glimpse of his father’s angry face, he swallowed, looking away. He’d forgotten what it was like to be around such a cruel man; a man so quick to punish those he saw as enemies. And for Arnon de Sant, there appeared to be no greater enemy than his only son.

  Eventually, Borr started doing more nodding and less mumbling, and Arnon felt slightly more confident about their chances of making it to Orvala before the sea froze. He headed back to Alys, pulling her close. ‘What else do you see?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Not Lotta?’

  ‘I saw glimpses of Lotta.’

  ‘And where is she? What’s she doing?’

  ‘She has a puppy.’

  ‘What? A puppy?’

  ‘Yes. She seemed happy.’ Alys didn’t think that was true. She felt Lotta’s fear. In those brief moments she saw glimpses of her d
aughter, she felt her fear most of all. She saw no one but Lotta. Lotta on the ice, holding a tiny brown puppy, so fluffy that Alys couldn’t see its eyes. Lotta was squeezing that puppy as though it would make her feel better. As though it would keep her safe from all the darkness around her.

  She blinked, wondering what that meant.

  ‘Don’t know why she’d be happy,’ Arnon grumbled. ‘Kidnapped by strangers? Taken from her home? From her parents? Why would anyone be happy about that?’

  Alys didn’t reply, thinking of Ottby. She remembered being dragged down the beach, seeing the dead body of her husband lying in the sand, her children fleeing before her. She’d felt oddly displaced, as though she wasn’t there at all.

  Not fearful, now that she thought about it.

  She hadn’t felt fearful.

  For the gods had plans for her.

  Somehow, she’d known that all along.

  22

  Mirella brought Lotta towards Ulrick, who had shown no inclination to come near his new lord, or her either, she realised with a frown. ‘Ulrick!’

  He dismounted with a tight smile, trying to focus on Mirella, though his thoughts were very much with the little girl, who appeared so expectant of his attention. Her face was turned up, drawing her eyes away from the puppy for the first time since Sverri had placed him into her arms. ‘My lady. Cold enough for you?’

  Mirella tried to smile. ‘Well, colder than Orbo, I think you’ll find. You should go and wrap your legs, Ulrick. They’ll freeze on the journey.’

  Bergit was there, eyes full of concern as she peered down at her husband’s trousers, mainly hidden beneath his cloak. ‘I did suggest as much, but he’s stubborn, my lady. As men usually are!’

  Mirella didn’t like Bergit, and she ignored her entirely. ‘You must find some wrappings. Your new lord won’t wish you to have no legs, for who will stand by his side in battle if you’re back in a tent having them sawn off?’

  That had Ulrick swallowing.

  Lotta gripped the puppy to her chest, blinking. ‘You don’t want to lose your legs, Ulrick,’ she said quietly. ‘You have to be able to fight.’

  Hearing that voice again, Ulrick couldn’t resist looking down. ‘Well, now, little princess, I could never say no to you.’ He smiled sadly, quickly turning away, tears in his eyes. ‘I’ll find something and be right back.’

  Lotta looked pleased. So did Bergit, who made to follow her husband.

  Mirella stopped her. ‘Would you watch Lotta for me, Bergit? I must go and speak to Ulrick for a moment.’

  Bergit looked surprised, but she nodded, knowing that Mirella was the woman to please in Orvala. And if she wanted Ulrick to rise, she was going to have to keep her happy. ‘Of course, my lady.’ And turning to Lotta, Bergit gripped her hand, trying not to grimace.

  Ulrick glanced over his shoulder, seeing plainly for the first time how uncomfortable his wife was around the girl. And frowning, he waited for Mirella to catch him.

  ‘You must take care of yourself, Ulrick Dyre, for I am relying upon you,’ Mirella said, skidding on a patch of ice, grabbing Ulrick’s arm.

  ‘Steady now,’ he grinned. ‘You’re not wearing skis.’

  Mirella didn’t smile. Jesper had loved to ski. Whenever there was an opportunity to go anywhere on skis, he would take it. She sighed, wishing her memories weren’t dominated by her abusive dead husband.

  Ulrick noticed her discomfort, and it confused him.

  ‘I don’t wish to speak of it,’ Mirella said, reading his thoughts. ‘Ever. I hope you can understand that, Ulrick? What happened in Orbo... I don’t wish to revisit it. We all make mistakes. I made mine, but I am myself again now, with a chance to have a life of true meaning. This life. And I don’t wish to dwell in that dark place any longer.’

  Ulrick nodded. ‘Then we won’t speak of it again.’

  ‘Good, for what lies before us both is the future, not the past. I know you’re angry about losing Lotta, and I regret that you have feelings for her. When I chose you for this task, I never imagined you would. Not you.’ And it was true. Some things, Mirella realised, couldn’t be seen in dreams.

  Feelings.

  She barely remembered what they were anymore.

  ‘It’s done,’ Ulrick insisted, blinking away all emotion. ‘She’s yours. Never mine. It’s done. And now, as you say, there’s only the future to contend with. The future and a chance for glory.’

  ‘Not glory, Ulrick. That is not what we seek. Glory is a temporary glow, a brief, fleeting moment. What we seek is victory. Long-lasting victory, that will reward us with the ultimate power.’

  Mirella was different, Ulrick thought as he headed into the market, eyes sweeping the tables, looking for some woollen cloth. Different than she had been in Orbo. ‘Power?’

  ‘Yes, power is freedom. Power is choice. It’s everything these people desire. The power to live freely for the first time in two thousand years.’ Mirella turned around, arms outstretched. ‘You see them, they’re flocking here to Tarl because he offers them hope. Hope that the North can finally rise and claim that which it hasn’t had since Thenor tore Alekka in two. Power.’

  ‘And will he help them get it? Tarl Brava?’ Ulrick stopped, turning to Mirella, wanting to look in her eyes. ‘Is that what you’ve seen?’

  Mirella smiled. ‘I have. And more, I promise you. So much more.’

  ‘What do you see, Eddeth?’ Sigurd wondered, nudging his mare up beside hers. Both horses were grey, and he wondered if they were sisters, they looked so much alike. Eddeth had been unusually quiet since they’d left the farmstead behind, and he wanted to check if she was alright.

  ‘I see purpose!’ Eddeth declared brightly, though she felt out-of-sorts, her thoughts jumping around chaotically. It was hard to know which one to choose. Which one to focus her attention on. They all seemed so demanding.

  She felt overwhelmed but conscious of the need to project confidence.

  ‘Purpose?’ Sigurd was intrigued. They had ridden away from the farm, through a wood, and were now crossing a gently sloping field, buried in deep snow. It was hard to feel any purpose when you were staring at a great, white, never-ending void. ‘I wouldn’t mind some purpose.’ He glanced over his shoulder at the slow-moving train of miserable men and horses, and Stina, who smiled at him.

  ‘Well, we have one, don’t we? Finding Alys and the children! Poor Alys. After all she did to help those lords, to set herself free, now she’s a prisoner again. Her and Magnus, both.’

  Sigurd nodded, feeling terrible, though perhaps Alys would never have had a chance to be free if they hadn’t taken her from Ullaberg? ‘So we carry on?’

  ‘What choice do we have? We must find them.’

  ‘And have you seen any sign of them?’

  ‘I see some things...’

  Sigurd waited, but Eddeth kept staring straight ahead, and eventually, he was forced to ask. ‘What things?’

  ‘Well, I couldn’t say, no I couldn’t. Not yet anyway, but something’s stirring. Like those clouds up there.’ And head up, Eddeth stared at the clouds swirling above them, dark and moody. ‘They speak to us, you know. They give us warnings. But do we listen?’ She shook her head. ‘Not many do, not even dreamers!’

  ‘But you do, don’t you, Eddeth?’ Sigurd watched the clouds drift and bleed into one, thinking of the raven. He wondered if Tulia was up there, watching over him. Following him. He shook his head, feeling idiotic, but at the same time, he had the very real sense that he was being watched.

  ‘Me? Of course! I do indeed. And what they’re telling us is trouble. You can feel that, can’t you, Sigurd Vilander?’

  Sigurd turned to her, nodding. ‘I can.’

  Eddeth swallowed, staring into those intense blue eyes. Against the dull light, they were almost popping out of Sigurd’s handsome face. ‘Trouble,’ she said, realising that there was more to discover; so much more that she needed to know. Tremors of fear surged through her frozen body, and Eddeth
began to worry that she wouldn’t be able to see what was coming in time.

  ‘If we’d had a good harvest, I’d be feeling happy about winter,’ Bjarni decided, eyes on the rapidly darkening clouds. ‘Snow piling up outside, fires blazing, my wife and daughter in my arms, Rilda cooking in the kitchen.’

  ‘Rilda?’ Bolli snorted from the tiller. ‘I’d take Hakon Vettel’s cook any day. Did you taste that fish soup?’ He closed his eyes, licking his salty lips. ‘What was that flavour?’

  ‘Fish, I’d say,’ Bjarni suggested with a wink at Reinar.

  Reinar laughed at the look on Bolli’s face. He’d never seen him smile so broadly. ‘So that’s the way to your heart, then? Through your stomach?’

  Bolli nodded. ‘It is. From what I hear, the cook was a half-dead old crone, otherwise, I’d have proposed marriage for sure!’

  Bjarni laughed too, though Bolli wasn’t wrong, he’d never tasted a more delicious fish soup in his life. His thoughts wandered back to Ottby and Agnette and the high table where they’d sat elbow to elbow, knee to knee, eating together every night since he could remember. And now there was Liara, who would one day run around the hall with pig-tails, hopefully chasing all her little brothers and sisters.

  Bjarni’s smile grew.

  Elin was in the stern looking after Holgar, who was feverish and distressed. He kept trying to touch his missing arm, growing upset when Elin held him down.

  ‘Need some help?’ Reinar called, stumbling as Fury hit a wave.

  Elin shook her head. ‘No, he’ll be asleep soon.’ She ran her hand over Holgar’s white hair, trying to soothe him.

  Reinar stared at his wife, his concern for Holgar adding to a general state of unease. He couldn’t shake himself out of it as much as he tried. Despite the relief of having defeated the Vettels and the joy of finding the gold, Reinar couldn’t escape his dark mood.

  So turning away from Elin, he tried to put his mind back on Ottby. But Ottby made him think of Sigurd, and Sigurd made him think of Alys.