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

by A. E. Rayne

  ‘Get your men, Arnon. We have to go back to the hall. Now!’

  ‘Out!’ came a bellow as the taverner emerged from his storage room in a great fluster, his wife panicking behind him. ‘Get back to your homes! Hurry! Go!’

  Arnon shook himself awake, and calling for his men to follow him, he turned after Alys, who was shepherding Bergit and the children to the door.

  Alys stopped, spinning around. ‘I need a sword. Please.’

  But Arnon just frowned at his wife, pushing ahead of the women and children, grabbing hold of the door.

  ‘Where are we going?’ asked Borr, who joined them, jostled by the Orvalans trying to squeeze their way through the narrow exit.

  ‘To the hall,’ Alys said, thinking of her mother. ‘We have to get to the hall!’

  ‘Mirella!’ Solveigh clung to her, fear writhing up her body like a snake. ‘Mirella!’

  ‘Ssshhh,’ Mirella warned. ‘Stay still and stop grabbing me. If you want to live, then let me work.’ And easing Solveigh away, Mirella spun around, opening her arms. ‘I know you’re there, Alari!’ she called. ‘That everything you said was just a lie! A game!’ She shook her head, laughing at the terrifying madness of it all. ‘And what a good liar you are! I believed you. I did!’

  Solveigh wanted to get off the ice, and she started panting, needing to go.

  ‘Stay!’ Mirella ordered. ‘You stay there until I say we can move!’

  The cracking sounds intensified.

  ‘Do you think you can kill me, Alari, and that will be that? That you can win by defeating me? That I stand alone against you?’ Mirella yelled.

  No one answered, and Solveigh wondered if Mirella was right in her assumptions.

  So did Mirella.

  But her skin crawled with the certainty that Alari was nearby.

  Silence.

  Mirella turned back to Solveigh, and taking her hands, she closed her eyes.

  Solveigh heard Mirella’s voice in her head, and she nodded.

  And stepping away from the Lady of Orvala, Mirella let her go.

  Solveigh aimed for the piers, their dark shapes coming into clearer focus as she ran, slipping often, stumbling to her knees, and then she was grabbing frozen wood, hands touching ice, clambering onto the pier.

  She turned back to Mirella, listening as the ice gave way, and the dreamer disappeared.

  ‘The hall’s that way,’ Arnon grumbled behind Alys, who had stopped, head twisting to the left. ‘Up ahead!’

  Bergit wondered what Alys was doing, not wanting her to hold them up. It was freezing, and the sound of those wolves had her teeth chattering in fear.

  But Alys turned them all to the left. ‘Follow me! Hurry!’

  Solveigh jumped back down onto the ice, rushing towards the great hole. The moon had momentarily emerged from behind dense storm clouds, revealing the harbour, but she couldn’t see Mirella.

  Just the broken ice.

  ‘Mirella!’ Dropping to her knees, Solveigh edged towards the hole, not wanting to fall in herself.

  ‘Solveigh!’ Alys called, running down the pier, boots slipping and sliding beneath her. She saw a hand go up, and jumping off the pier, Alys ran for the hole. ‘Arnon! Help me! Bergit, hold the children!’

  Lotta blinked after her mother, barely minding when Bergit grabbed her hand. ‘Hurry! Mama, hurry!’ She could feel Mirella’s panic rising by the moment.

  And then a shaft of golden light burst out of the hole, illuminating the ice.

  Alys ripped off her cloak, and eyes wide open, she dove into the icy water. It hit her like a stone wall, and her body jerked in shock as she swam, kicking her feet, pushing deeper, seeing the sinking figure of her cloaked mother drifting down to the bottom of the harbour.

  She heard a splash above her, surprised to think that Arnon would do something so selfless, and diving deeper, she saw images of the lake at Burholm, where Vik and her grandfather would have competitions about who could hold their breaths the longest. They’d made Alys count. She would sit on the wharf and count with terror in her heart, hoping they’d both come back.

  Jonas had always won.

  ‘We’ve impressive lungs in our family. Dragon-sized lungs!’ he would laugh, wrapping a wet arm around her, holding her close.

  Alys blinked, trying to focus, pushing down further, overwhelmed by the need to take a breath as she snatched at Mirella’s swirling cloak.

  Missing.

  And then Arnon swam past her, grabbing hold of the cloak himself.

  Alys turned her head, surprised to see that it wasn’t Arnon. It was Ebben, the quiet teenager, who held onto Mirella, pulling her upwards. With her thick cloak, she was heavy, and Alys grabbed her mother’s other arm, helping him, trying to stay calm, though it was proving difficult now.

  She had to open her mouth.

  She needed to breathe!

  And kicking harder than she’d ever kicked in her life, the cold threatening to put her to sleep or cease her limbs moving altogether, Alys helped Ebben drag Mirella up to the surface, the golden light dimming now.

  Arnon was there, waiting for them with Borr and the rest of his small crew, and they pulled an unconscious Mirella out of Ebben’s arms, dragging her onto the ice.

  Ebben spluttered, clambering out after her, lungs burning. He turned back for Alys, but Arnon already had her, and as his wife spat out water and gasped for air, he pulled her into his arms. She tried to push him away, wanting to bend over, to spit out more water, but she was weak and cold, and he wouldn’t let her go.

  ‘You’re freezing! We have to get back to the hall!’

  ‘Mama!’ the children screamed from the piers. ‘Mama!’

  ‘She’s alright, see?’ Bergit muttered. ‘We just need to get to a fire.’ And thinking of fires, she turned around, hearing the baying warning from the wolves again.

  ‘Is she a-a-alive?’ Alys panted, crawling away from Arnon, across the ice. She didn’t want to be near Mirella or Arnon, but the thought that her mother might die filled her heart with pain.

  Borr nodded, rolling Mirella onto her side, trying to encourage the water out of her. And feeling so encouraged, Mirella vomited out a great rush of icy water, trembling all over.

  Alys resisted the urge to cry out, but she felt a great sense of relief and then a sharp jolt of fear. Shivering, she turned back, taking her cloak from Ebben, who had thoughtfully hurried it to her. She smiled at the boy, both of them dripping and shuddering.

  ‘And then what?’

  Alys twisted around, recognising the voice.

  ‘You’ve saved your mother, and now what will you do? Help her kill your king? And then your beloved Reinar? Think carefully now, Alys de Sant. Do you really want to be here helping the woman who abandoned you? Who cast you out of her heart? Who locked the door on you for all those years?’

  Alys couldn’t see Alari, and glancing around, she could tell that no one else could see her either. But she could hear her.

  ‘Don’t ever think that she’d do the same, Alys. She won’t save you, I promise, for your mother is just a husk of a woman now. There is no heart, no soul in her at all. She will let you die. If it comes to a choice between what she wants and your life, she will let you die. Are you so sure you want to help a creature like that?’

  Alys scrambled to her feet, teeth chattering, boots slipping. ‘We have to...’ She couldn’t think; it was still an effort to breathe.

  ‘The hall!’ Solveigh yelled, hearing the wolves getting closer. ‘We have to get to the hall!’

  Borr and Ebben started dragging a limp Mirella between them as everyone else moved past them with speed. And clambering up the piers, they hurried to the hall as the moon disappeared again, plunging the city into darkness.

  Eddeth didn’t recognise the man.

  He had a prominent jaw, an enormous golden beard, and bushy eyebrows jutting out like a rocky outcrop over a pair of sunken brown eyes.

  He sat alone in a chair made of bronze,
its ornate back twice as tall as the man. Though he was not a small man, Eddeth thought as she crept towards him, overwhelmed by curiosity.

  And then she blinked, wondering what she was seeing.

  Wondering where she was...

  Turning around, she nearly tripped over her old boots, the soles flapping like dirty tongues.

  ‘What makes us vengeful?’

  Eddeth turned again, seeing Valera gliding towards her in her familiar shimmering gown. ‘Vengeful? Well, you tell me. I’ve never been vengeful myself, so I couldn’t say. No, I couldn’t!’

  Valera smiled, her eyes on the slumped figure of the god.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Eddeth wondered. ‘Eskvir?’

  Valera nodded. ‘The most vengeful god of all. In fact, after Eutresia died, he named himself the God of Vengeance, and those who seek vengeance in their own lives, often invoke his name.’

  ‘He gave it to himself?’ Eddeth was surprised, desperate to know more. ‘But why was he so vengeful?’ She swung back to Eskvir, who looked more sad than angry.

  ‘What makes us vengeful?’ Valera asked again.

  ‘Betrayal. Anger and pain. Loss.’

  ‘True. And love. Love most of all,’ Valera said softly, watching as Eskvir stood, leaving his chair behind, walking towards an enormous window that opened to a snow-covered valley. ‘When what we love is taken from us, we feel the pain and the loss, but when it is taken away by someone we trust and care about, we feel betrayed.’

  Eddeth nodded vigorously, urging Valera to go on.

  ‘And Eskvir lost Eutresia, his love. Thenor killed her.’

  ‘So now he wants revenge?’ Eddeth picked her wart, mouth hanging open.

  Valera nodded. ‘My uncle has been seeking vengeance for two thousand years, but now he has allies. Powerful allies.’

  ‘You mean that witch, Alari?’

  ‘Yes. There are few who can defeat her. Even with one eye, she has the power to create chaos, so sleep now, and wake up renewed, Eddeth, for you must hurry to Orvala before it’s too late.’

  The old man had built the fires high in their absence, and they were all grateful as they stumbled into the hall, panicked and cold.

  ‘Secure the doors!’ Arnon called to his men. ‘And we’ll need some hot food. Something to drink!’ He glanced at Alys, who Solveigh had helped to a fire. Bergit was fussing over Mirella, who was a shaking mess, leaning on her.

  Magnus watched his sister run after their father. ‘Lotta! Where are you going?’

  She ignored him, disappearing into the corridor.

  ‘M-M-Magnus!’ Alys could barely use her lips. ‘Get her!’ And holding her hands to the fire, she tried to wake herself up, but the cold felt as though it was inside her, trying to freeze every part of her body.

  ‘Alys!’ Mirella straightened up, suddenly wide awake. ‘We must go to my chamber.’

  ‘What?’ Bergit looked surprised. ‘But you’re frozen solid. You have to stay here. Let the fire warm you!’

  Mirella pushed Bergit away, trying to stand. And though she wobbled precariously, dripping all over the floor, she held her balance, hand out to her daughter. ‘Hurry!’

  Alys nodded, shivering and shaking, already missing the flames as she followed after her mother.

  Mirella didn’t stop until she was outside her bedchamber, and swinging open the door, she stumbled to her table, breath smoke trailing from frozen lips. The chamber was lit by an abundance of lamps and candles, though there were only embers in the hearth, and it was bitterly cold.

  Reaching the table, she froze.

  Her bowl was broken, a crack running through the symbol she’d carved into its bottom.

  Alys peered over her shoulder, not understanding.

  Everything was falling apart, Mirella realised, gripping the table, the implications of what had happened echoing around her with greater urgency.

  ‘What?’ Alys touched her arm, and Mirella jerked around, blinking.

  ‘Alari has been here. In here. She is here!’

  ‘And you’re not friends?’ Alys narrowed her eyes suspiciously. ‘I imagined you were working together.’

  Mirella didn’t answer her daughter; she was trying to think. ‘Alari was in my chamber alone,’ she repeated. Bending down, she lifted a corner of the hide that lay beneath the table, where Alys saw a circle of symbols carved into the floorboards. ‘Alari broke the circle. My circle. Somehow, she destroyed it.’ Running a finger over the symbols, Mirella frowned, unable to see that they’d been interfered with in any way. ‘Help me move the table.’

  Alys pushed the table while Mirella tugged the hide away.

  And staring down at the entire circle now, she could see that it hadn’t been broken.

  ‘No one could have touched the bowl. No one. That circle is ancient, powerful. It’s complete!’ Mirella rocked back on her heels, shuddering.

  ‘I don’t understand. Why was Alari here?’

  Mirella didn’t want to answer, knowing that Alari was likely listening to everything they said. Watching. Enjoying her distress.

  ‘We need to secure the hall. That husband of yours, is he any good with a sword?’ Back on her feet now, still shuddering, Mirella sought to regain her footing.

  Alys didn’t know. ‘He says he is.’

  ‘Well, Arnon and his men are better than nothing. I don’t know what’s happened to the guards. To Sverri either. I couldn’t see anyone out there.’

  ‘There were no men guarding the hall,’ Alys remembered. ‘No men on the streets either.’

  ‘Alari must have done something to them, so we need to act fast. We have to keep ourselves safe. We can’t save anyone if something happens to us.’ Mirella glanced at her shivering daughter, whose wet clothes were making puddles on the floor, and she knew that Alys had left her children on the pier to try and save her, risking her life for a woman who had never loved her and never would.

  ‘I need a sword,’ Alys insisted, feeling that need grow.

  Mirella sighed. ‘Yes, you do.’ And she turned away from her daughter, heading to the end of her bed, where she bent to open a wooden chest. Lifting up its creaking lid, she took out a leather scabbard protecting a sword, both of them wrapped in a belt. ‘It was your father’s,’ Mirella said. ‘Well, he gave it to me. He was always away. He didn’t think my magic was enough to protect myself.’ She handed the sword to Alys, who kept her hands by her sides, reluctant to take it. ‘There’s no time for feelings, Alys. No time for worrying about Vettels who are dead. Take the damn sword.’ And now she shoved it at Alys, unhappy to be opening a door to unwanted memories once again.

  Alys took the sword in both hands, unravelling the belt, and thinking of Tulia, she wrapped it around her waist, listening to the rain coming down now. ‘I need to get back to the children.’

  ‘You should. I have to find a way to see in the dark, for now, without my bowl, I am blind.’

  ‘And will you be able to? See?’

  Mirella stared at her with doubt in her eyes. ‘Well, soon we’ll find out, won’t we?’

  Sigurd was woken by a shove to his injured arm, which had him yelping.

  Gudrum’s man, Ilmar, crouched down before him. ‘We’re leaving.’

  ‘What?’ Sigurd’s head was spinning with dreams that had him doubting whether he was awake at all.

  Ilmar fumbled with his ropes, cold hands slow to get moving. ‘Best you keep your head down and your mouth shut.’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Not one for listening, then?’ Ilmar laughed, his voice a throaty rumble. He was a rough man, and he elbowed Sigurd in the arm as he worked the ropes free.

  ‘Aarrghh!’

  ‘Steady now. You’ll get to keep that arm if you keep your mouth closed.’

  ‘What about Gudrum? Does he know about this? He’s keeping me hostage, for my brother’s gold. Where’s Gudrum?’

  And then Raf swept into the tent like a dark-haired elf. ‘Why is he screaming? Ilmar, you�
��re supposed to keep him quiet! Did you hurt him?’ Sigurd’s face was screwed up in pain, or perhaps sleep-dazed confusion, but Raf hurried to check his wound, wanting a moment alone with him. ‘Let me see what you’ve done.’

  ‘Gudrum wants him on a horse.’

  ‘Gudrum wants all of us on horses. He’s no different, but you don’t want him bleeding everywhere, falling down dead. Who do you think Gudrum will point the finger at then?’ She turned back to glare up at the grumbling man, who was already bored with the conversation.

  Backing up to the tent flap, Ilmar lifted his hood over his wet hair, not looking forward to riding in the foul weather. ‘I’ll tell Gudrum you’ll bring him.’

  ‘I will.’ And happy to hear him go, Raf bent down to Sigurd’s arm, though it was almost impossible to see in the near-darkness. ‘Did he touch you?’

  ‘Touch me?’

  ‘He likes women most of the time, but I’ve seen him put his hands on some of the boys. He knows they won’t say anything. And they haven’t. They’re all afraid of Gudrum, and Gudrum is loyal to Ilmar. They’ve been by each other’s side for years.’

  ‘Oh.’ Sigurd shook his head. ‘He didn’t hurt me, but I think it’s bleeding again.’

  He was right, Raf saw, trying to turn Sigurd’s arm towards the fire.

  ‘Where are we going? Why are we leaving in the night?’

  She didn’t answer his questions. ‘I’ll need to find another bandage.’ And realising that there was no time for it, Raf slipped her hands inside Sigurd’s cloak, grabbing hold of his tunic, quickly tearing off a strip. ‘Better to ruin yours than mine,’ she winked. ‘You being the brother of a rich lord.’

  Sigurd frowned, though he didn’t say anything about his brother not being the man they all thought he was.

  Raf laughed. ‘It’s Hakon Vettel’s gold! Your brother found it. He has it on his ships. Lots and lots of gold! Though soon that will become a problem, for everyone wants gold, don’t they? Silver and gold? I think I should sing a song about that!’