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

by A. E. Rayne

  ‘I doubt that.’

  Raf smiled now. ‘You don’t like the gods? How can you not like the gods?’

  ‘You tell me,’ Sigurd grumbled. ‘You think they’re watching over me? If so, it’s only to find new ways to torture me. I was left out as a baby, given to a mother who hated me, fell in love with a woman who was killed, my ship sunk, and now I’m trapped here with that arsehole, who’s trying to sell me back to my brother!’

  ‘Doesn’t seem so bad,’ Raf decided. ‘If that’s the worst you have to say, doesn’t seem so bad to me.’ She placed the cold leaves on Sigurd’s wound, watching him shudder. ‘You’re a strong man, tall and handsome, the brother of a lord. The son of one too. You grew up in a fortress, where everything you needed was handed to you.’ She lifted her eyes, peering into his. ‘Seems to me that you’ve spent too much time feeling sorry for yourself and not enough realising how lucky you are.’

  Sigurd blinked, unsettled that she knew so much about him. ‘I’ve never felt lucky.’ And it was true. He’d never seen anything good in what had happened to him before.

  ‘Not lucky?’ Raf laughed. ‘Rescued by a good man? A powerful lord, best friend of the king himself?’

  ‘You’ve been busy. Busy digging.’

  ‘Not digging. I’m a dreamer, not a farmer.’

  Sigurd laughed, enjoying the cooling leaves on his wound. ‘So you think I should see myself as lucky then? Favoured by the gods? Not cursed?’

  ‘The gods want us to grow, and we only grow when we’re challenged. Forced to learn. To think and feel our way towards solutions.’ Raf was moving now, hands working quickly, making shapes. ‘For there are always solutions. The strong seek them, the weak look for excuses. They look to blame the gods themselves!’ And now she narrowed her eyes. ‘I’m not sure I’ve ever met a luckier man than you, Sigurd Vilander.’

  And leaning forward, she kissed him.

  29

  There were at least ten wolves in the pack, Ludo thought, charging for Stina and Eddeth, heart thudding.

  The horses panicked, and Aldo ran after them, trying to stop them escaping. Ollo and the rest of the crew followed him, watching Destroyer disappearing across the field, reins flapping.

  Ludo didn’t have his bow, which he’d left on his horse.

  His horse, now galloping after a spooked Destroyer.

  Vik ran after Ludo, leaving Jonas to help Ollo and Aldo with the horses.

  ‘Come on!’ Ludo screamed, reaching Stina, grabbing her hand.

  Vik picked up Eddeth, who spat out a mouthful of snow, almost falling again as he pushed her past him. ‘Run, Eddeth! Run to the horses!’ And drawing out his swords, he stomped his boots down into the snow as thunder shattered the sky.

  Eddeth tripped, tumbling forward, but Stina snatched her arm, pulling her along, hearing Ludo draw his own sword.

  The leader of the wolf pack stopped, yellow eyes glowing, mouth open, drawing back its lips to reveal long, sharp teeth.

  ‘Help!’ Eddeth yelped, eyes on Jonas, not wanting to leave Vik and Ludo behind. ‘Help them!’

  Jonas heard her, and glancing over his shoulder, he saw Vik with his swords out. He bellowed, torn. If he didn’t help get the horses back, they’d be trapped in the snow. But if he didn’t help Vik and Ludo?

  He cursed the gods, wishing they weren’t having so much fun at their expense. And grabbing hold of Ludo’s horse’s tail, Jonas slowed her down. ‘Stop!’ he roared, knowing it was no way to calm a spooked horse. But he had little time for niceties, and clinging to the tail, he slowed her down long enough to grab Ludo’s bow and quiver, both tied around the saddle.

  A now-mounted Aldo kicked his horse forward, and grabbing the reins, he tied Ludo’s horse to his, setting off after the rest, leaving Jonas free to run to Vik.

  Two men came riding into the camp as though they were being chased by the God of Fire himself. Gudrum was immediately on his feet, barely a ripple of discomfort on his face, though in the cold, his knees gave him almost unbearable pain. He wondered where Raf had disappeared to. She could always take the edge off with one of her stinking concoctions. ‘What?’ he yelled to the scouts, who shook snow from their hair as they slid out of saddles, hurrying to their lord. ‘What news?’

  ‘The Orvalan army is on the march, my lord!’ the taller of the two scouts grinned, knowing that Gudrum would be pleased.

  And he was, rivers of scars stretching across a happy face. ‘Finally! All of it?’

  ‘A fair amount, I’d say, lord,’ said the other man, who shook all over, half frozen.

  Gudrum rubbed his hands together. ‘Good.’ He turned, eyeing the men who sat around fires, rugged up beneath cloaks and furs, hands out to the flames as they drank and shared stories to alleviate the boredom. ‘Up! Up! Get up!’ And he started moving through the camp with a smile. ‘We must prepare to go and greet our new friends! Tomorrow! We’ll leave tomorrow!’ Gudrum turned back to the scouts, full of energy. ‘You’ve done well! Now get some food in your bellies, then head back out there. I want eyes everywhere.’ Spinning around, he frowned. ‘And where’s Raf? Somebody send that dreamer to my tent!’

  Vik’s mind flittered about wildly.

  He thought of his cottage and his first wife, who had left him while he was away with Ake. He’d never heard from her again.

  He thought of ale and music and how cold his toes were.

  How nice it would be to sleep with a feather-stuffed pillow beneath his head.

  They had them in Stornas, he remembered.

  He took the first wolf in the face with his right sword, swaying left as another jumped at him. Spinning, he dropped his shoulder, slashing his blade across its throat, blood splattering the white snow.

  Eight left.

  He’d counted quickly, knowing that, with Ludo’s help, they stood a chance.

  Ludo dragged his sword across the forelegs of a leaping wolf, scraping bone, hearing the howl of agony as the creature collapsed, whimpering.

  Seven.

  Twisting around, Ludo yelped, knocked to the ground by a growling wolf, who scratched its long claws down his chest. ‘Aarrghh!’ He wriggled urgently, his back in the snow, trying to get away from the snapping jaws aiming for his face. And then a mournful cry as Vik swung a blade down, through its back, snapping its spine.

  Six.

  Panting and pushing the dying wolf off him, Ludo staggered back to his feet, chest stinging, wet through.

  ‘Duck!’ came the cry from Jonas, who had an arrow nocked in Ludo’s bow, and as Vik and Ludo scattered, dropping to the ground, Jonas got to work. He hit one wolf in the chest, though it kept coming, aiming for Vik, who rose to his knees, finishing it off with a quick slash of swords.

  Quickly nocking another arrow, Jonas aimed at the five charging wolves, taking the next one even lower, just catching its leg. It stumbled but kept running, and shooting again, Jonas’ next arrow pierced its eye.

  Four.

  Up on his feet, sensing an opportunity as the wolves turned their attention to Jonas, Vik sheathed his right sword and drew out a knife, flinging it at the head of one wolf as Jonas killed two more.

  And then there was just one.

  The lone wolf stopped, shoulders haunched, breath puffing in billowing clouds.

  It started raining, quickly turning to hail. The tiny balls stung Jonas’ face as he nocked his last arrow, watching the wolf, almost lost in the gaze of its bright yellow eyes.

  He heard Eida’s voice. ‘Beware of the wolf, my darling, for it was sent to kill you.’ And as the wolf bounded forward suddenly, paws digging into the snow, Jonas released the arrow.

  Vik and Ludo watched as the wolf crumpled to the ground, arrow through its throat.

  Thunder boomed overhead, lightning streaking through the sky, hail pounding them now.

  Dropping his head and closing his eyes, Jonas wanted to hear his wife’s voice again.

  And then, blinking, he remembered what she’d said, hearing the
panic.

  The warning.

  Out of arrows now, he dropped the bow and drew out his sword, eyes sweeping the snowy field. He saw Vik and Ludo heading towards him. He heard Ollo grumbling and Eddeth sneezing in the distance; the shouts of the crew as they helped Aldo round up the horses. ‘Hurry!’ Jonas yelled, shivers racing up his legs now; up his arms and back too. ‘Hurry!’

  Vik heard the panic in Jonas’ voice, and he bent low, dragging his knife out of a dead wolf, wiping it through the snow. He didn’t know what Jonas had seen, and standing, he glanced around, watching as one of the dead wolves rose up from the ground, shaking itself awake, snarling. ‘What?’ He spun urgently as one by one, the rest of the wolves staggered back to their feet.

  ‘Ride!’ he heard Ollo shouting in the distance. ‘We have to ride!’

  Ollo was mounted on a terrified Destroyer, who trembled with fear. Between them, they’d managed to retrieve most of the horses. Two were missing, but they had enough to make a quick escape.

  Ludo and Vik started running, legs high, leaping over the snow, trying to increase their speed, though the snow was deep and soft, and the hail pounded them mercilessly, the sky quickly turning as dark as night.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Stina screamed, twisting around, eyes on Ludo.

  ‘Go!’ Ollo grumbled, wishing he had a bow. ‘Ride, woman!’ He slapped Stina’s horse on the rump, giving her no choice but to cling to the reins and hope that her horse would carry her safely across the field.

  ‘No!’ Eddeth bellowed as Ollo tried to get her horse moving too. ‘Wait!’ She had a long stick in her hand that she’d found in the copse. Alder, she thought, eyeing the wood, her grandmother’s words ringing in her ears. ‘There’s nothing like a wand of alder to make a little magic!’ And dragging her knife out of its scabbard, Eddeth quickly scratched a symbol onto the long stick. It had the weight of a staff, she realised, sliding out of the saddle, ignoring the horrified look on Ollo’s face.

  ‘Eddeth!’ he shouted with bulging eyes, one hand flailing.

  Vik’s head was up, hearing the growling wolves behind him and Ollo’s panic before him. ‘No! Eddeth! Get back on your horse!’ And then he was down, face in the snow, a heavy grey wolf on his back.

  Eddeth prayed to Valera to give her balance. Above all things, for just one moment, she needed to stay on her feet. Ludo screamed, bringing his sword towards the wolf’s back. Its head snapped around, snarling in anger, lunging at Ludo, who was quickly knocked backwards.

  Eddeth saw visions of a ten-year-old boy, who’d slouched so badly that Gerda had walked around with a long stick, trying to straighten him up. He’d been taller than any of his friends, embarrassed by his height.

  Trying to focus, staff in hand, Eddeth cleared away all thoughts of Ludo and Ottby.

  She saw the wolves running, surrounding Vik and Ludo.

  Jonas running past her to help them.

  She let any thoughts of Jonas go too, and squeezing her hand around the staff, Eddeth pointed it at the wolf pack. Holding the symbol she’d carved in her mind, she closed her eyes, seeing it glowing like a constellation of stars. She couldn’t undo whatever magic was being conjured, but she knew how powerful her protective symbol could be. Eddeth knew that symbol better than any other, and she felt its magic heating her up from within, her arm shaking with the effort of holding up the staff.

  The wolves started whimpering, one at a time, mouths closing as they slowed to a stop. Jonas pulled Ludo to his feet, sword out, threatening the wolf who’d knocked him to the ground, but it padded backwards now, retreating, offering no further threat.

  The three men backed up to Eddeth, who shook all over, staff trembling, eyes closed. They moved past her to Ollo, who waited with four horses, having sent everyone else into the trees on the other side of the field.

  ‘Come on!’ Ollo urged, eyes on the wolves, wondering what Eddeth was doing to them.

  Ludo and Jonas mounted their horses quickly, panting, breath smoke pumping.

  ‘Ride!’ Vik called. ‘I’ll bring Eddeth.’ The men hesitated, and he roared at them. ‘Go!’ He grabbed Frostbite’s reins, tying him to Eddeth’s horse, watching over his shoulder as the wolves bunched together now, all eyes on Eddeth. They showed no signs of attacking, though; their bodies were relaxed, mouths mostly closed, nostrils twitching, sniffing the air. ‘We need to go,’ Vik whispered, not wanting to break whatever trance Eddeth had woven. ‘Eddeth?’

  And eyes bursting open, she turned to him, nodding vigorously. ‘We need to go!’

  Vik grabbed her hand, pulling her towards her horse, quickly boosting her up into the saddle. The wolves remained where they were, and holding his breath, Vik hurried into his own saddle, pleased that their horses weren’t as skittery as the rest. He untied Eddeth’s grey mare, slapping her on the rump. ‘Hold on tight!’ And turning around, he aimed Frostbite at the trees, waiting to hear the sound of wolves chasing after them.

  Mirella made Alys sit on one side of her, Solveigh on the other. The two children sat at a table in front of them, watched by Mirella’s old servant, Bathilda, who had little patience for children. She kept glancing at her mistress in the hope that she could be relieved and given another task.

  Solveigh was silent, having been given the horrific news that she was carrying Tarl’s child. So was Mirella, whose unsettled feelings were only growing more demanding.

  Alys was disturbed herself, struggling to clear her mind of any thoughts of the escape she so desperately wanted to make. And though Mirella appeared distracted, Alys felt certain that, in the silence, she was actively listening to all that flowed around her.

  Thoughts darted around Alys’ head with urgency. She saw images of Eddeth and Stina, terror in their eyes. She saw Ludo lying in the snow.

  Sigurd kissing a woman.

  And Reinar.

  Alys’ mind always found its way back to Reinar, who she saw hanging over Fury’s stern, watching the cold seawater ruffling in her wake, looking like a man who’d left something behind.

  ‘Your thoughts are loud,’ her mother sighed, picking up her goblet. ‘Though they are at least more interesting than Solveigh’s.’

  Alys knew that to be true, having peered into the deep misery of Solveigh’s mind herself.

  Solveigh ignored Mirella, not wanting to give her the pleasure of thinking that her insults had any effect. In truth, nothing anyone said could make her happier or sadder. She just felt lost, like a mastless ship riding the waves. As though she sat in the centre of its deck, eyes closed, at the gods’ mercy.

  Waiting to die.

  ‘Solveigh!’ Mirella grumbled, unable to think. Sometimes, it was impossible to shut everyone out. But she needed to.

  And then her attention was drawn to the children, who sat before her sniping away at each other, arguing over the puppy. Lotta was smothering it, desperate to keep it away from her brother, who was just as desperate to cuddle it. ‘Your children don’t appear to like each other very much,’ she said, turning to Alys. ‘They never stop fighting.’

  ‘Well, that shows how little you know about children.’

  Solveigh, listening from Mirella’s other side, smiled. In her time at Orvala, she’d never heard anyone stand up to the dreamer. It almost made her happy.

  Mirella chose not to feel insulted. ‘I can’t deny that, though I have no desire to know more about the whims of children.’

  Alys could tell that that was true.

  ‘Besides, it is better never to invest too much time in children,’ Mirella went on. ‘They die. They sicken and die. Many do, at least.’

  Alys turned to her, hearing something different in Mirella’s voice, but her mother stared straight ahead, barely blinking.

  ‘That may be true, but if we listened to our fears, we’d never give our heart to anyone. And what sort of life would that be? Devoid of love or feeling?’

  Mirella sipped her wine, enjoying the warmth building in her chest. ‘Look at the trouble lo
ve got you into, Alys,’ she murmured, leaning towards her daughter. ‘Do you really think you should be so eager to share your heart again? You don’t seem to make the wisest choices when it comes to men.’ Mirella looked away, feeling the sting of her own words, remembering the cruelty of Alys’ father.

  The musicians were playing a mournful song from their perch in a far corner, lit from above by a copper lamp that swung, squeaking in time, and Alys saw her grandfather staring at her with pain in his eyes. He had mourned the loss of his daughter, and yet, here she was, a heartless woman who didn’t appear to love or care about anyone at all.

  Mirella’s head snapped around, her impatience finally overwhelming her. ‘You will help me, and I will let you stay, but do not presume to know me, Alys. Do not presume to know what I think or feel. You will help me, and I will let you stay to see your daughter, but betray me?’ She dabbed her lips with a napkin before standing. ‘That would not go well for you. Though be assured, if anything were to happen to you, I would give your children a good home.’

  Alys blinked in horror, her heart breaking.

  And then it wasn’t breaking at all.

  She shut a door on it, locking it, staring into her mother’s cold eyes. ‘I understand. Perfectly.’

  The rain soaked them, and the wind froze them, and the snow numbed their feet until they wondered if they would ever feel them again, but eventually, they stopped the horses in a small clearing amongst a dark circle of trees. And, teeth chattering, Aldo and three of the crew disappeared to find wood for a fire. Ollo was quickly on his hands and knees, scooping away the snow, hungrier than he’d ever been in his life, and more disturbed. They needed to hunt and forage for food, though in all the snow, and too cold to be quiet, it would be a struggle, so warmth was needed first.