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

by A. E. Rayne

  Eddeth lifted her eyes to where Jonas and Vik rode ahead of them, Ollo and Aldo in front of them. ‘Valera came to me,’ she hissed. ‘Warning about Alys. Though I don’t want to upset Jonas about his daughter.’

  ‘Oh?’ Stina had been confused by the sudden appearance of Alys’ mother, though likely not as confused as Alys herself.

  ‘Valera told us to hurry. She said that Alys was in danger. Alys and the children. I just... oh, it’s too terrible to imagine! What if we’re too late?’

  ‘Too late for what?’ Jonas wanted to know, turning around.

  Eddeth cursed her big mouth, and once again, she pressed her lips together.

  ‘Too late to save Alys,’ Ludo said, getting a shove in the ribs from Stina.

  Jonas scowled at Eddeth, who sneezed as he turned back around, urging his horse on.

  It couldn’t be too late.

  It couldn’t.

  No one was happy.

  Reinar didn’t care.

  Thenor wanted his son saved, and Reinar wanted to rescue his brother, so he didn’t care that no one wanted to trek towards Orvala in the bitter cold, with frozen feet and windburned faces; with wet clothes that clung to shivering skin and little hope of stopping.

  They just had to keep walking.

  Berger was in a sullen mood, all joy about the gold long gone now. Bolli scratched his wiry beard constantly, and the sound of it irritated Berger beyond any words he could shout at the old helmsman in frustration. He’d had another fight with Ilene, who, in a fit of jealousy, had been babbling on about Sigurd Vilander. In the end, it had only made Berger more determined not to make things right with her; further annoyed that some of the gold he’d found was now going to rescue the lord’s idiot brother.

  Eventually, thoroughly fed up, he stopped, turning back to Reinar with a groan. ‘We need to find a stream!’

  Reinar agreed, though after a heavy dump of snow during the night, it was impossible to make out any features in what lay ahead. They were wading across what could have been a meadow, hoping to come across a village or a farmstead, dreaming of horses and flames. Something to eat too. ‘Grab a stick, then. Start poking around. Must be one coming up soon.’

  Bolli shivered beside him, cold hands tucked into his woollen cloak. ‘And what makes you think this Gudrum fellow will let Sigurd go? Negotiating for prisoners is never easy. Stellan found that out the hard way more than once. Man says he’ll set your friend free for a chest of silver, but somehow, he manages to take the silver and kill your friend. Many times he tried to kill us too!’ He thought of Holgar, sailing back to Ottby with Bjarni, hoping his old friend would make it; struggling to believe that time had run away from them both.

  ‘Why do you think I’m taking everyone along?’ Reinar grunted, falling into a hole, twisting his ankle. He dragged out his right foot, grimacing. ‘Gudrum might be more inclined to part with Sigurd if I’ve an army at my back.’

  Berger laughed. ‘You think you’ll have an army by the time we get to Orvala?’ He was starting to think it was well past time to revisit his oath to Reinar Vilander. Reinar Vilander, who might not even make it to Orvala alive. Not if the weather kept trying to kill them. He’d never been so cold in his life.

  Ilene moved up to walk beside him, nudging his arm. ‘You need to think of Orvala,’ she said with a tired grin. ‘And once we save Sigurd –’

  Berger moved ahead of her, growling in annoyance.

  Reinar shook his head, turning to Bolli. ‘Tell me everything. Tell me what Stellan used to do, the stories of where it went right. Not the ones where everyone got killed.’ And slapping his helmsman on the back, he thought of his brother, hoping he could hold on. When Tulia died, Sigurd had lost the light in his eyes, and Reinar worried that he’d lost some of his desire to live too.

  He didn’t blame him. Sigurd had always struggled to rise above a lack of hope for the future, and Reinar supposed it was because he’d been abandoned as a baby. Sigurd thought his parents hadn’t loved him or even cared whether he lived. His abandonment and Gerda’s rejection of him had coloured everything he thought about himself; about the future he’d struggled to make for himself too.

  ‘Reinar?’ Bolli had been talking away without any response.

  ‘Sorry, say that again,’ Reinar frowned, trying to focus, but Thenor’s voice was booming in his ears, urging him on.

  Two days, he promised.

  Soon they would find a few horses, and that would help them arrive at Orvala in two days.

  Gudrum took Solveigh back to her chamber.

  He’d ordered Mirella to find a volka, a wise man to marry them, but she’d informed him that Tarl had no such man. In Orvala, there were no volkas, not as there were in other parts of Alekka. In the North, and especially around Orvala, they had brothers.

  ‘Then find me one of those!’ Gudrum had bellowed, dragging Solveigh down the corridor. ‘By the time we return, I want a brother waiting in that hall, ready to marry us!’

  Solveigh had shrieked and sobbed, pleading for help, though there was little Mirella could do without creating further problems.

  Bergit looked after Solveigh with some sympathy in her eyes, and following Mirella out of the hall, she slipped her hood over her orange hair, muttering to herself.

  ‘We can’t save Solveigh by displeasing that man,’ Mirella insisted, reading her thoughts. ‘We will only hurt ourselves.’

  ‘But the poor woman!’ Bergit shook her head, Solveigh’s screams still ringing in it. Her eyes were grainy as she blinked in the dreary morning light, feeling as though she’d been submerged in darkness for days. ‘If she’d wanted to kill herself before, what will she try to do now?’

  ‘She’s carrying a child, and that matters to her,’ Mirella snapped irritably, tired herself. ‘I can tell. Besides, women suffer. That is the way! It has always been the way, Bergit, so what should I do? Charge back into the hall and tear the man away from her? Do you think I’m strong enough to do that?’

  Bergit held her tongue, dropping her eyes as they approached a band of drunken warriors, who shouted at them, coming closer.

  ‘I am the lord’s new dreamer!’ Mirella warned sharply. ‘Lay a hand on me, and the lord will hear of it!’ The men laughed, but they were bothered enough by the threat to keep their distance.

  And if they didn’t?

  Mirella knew ways to keep herself safe.

  She hurried on.

  ‘Who are these brothers?’ Bergit wondered. ‘Where are they hiding? Likely dead, looking at the damage that’s been done to the city.’ Her eyes swept the street, seeing the overturned carts and tables, reminded of the riot in Slussfall. She felt a pain in her heart, worrying about Ulrick.

  ‘The brother I’m looking for is not here,’ Mirella told her quietly. ‘We must find horses, Bergit, for he is some ride away.’

  Sigurd had slept.

  He hadn’t wanted to. He’d felt too uptight to sleep, too concerned about what would come next. Gudrum still seemed set on getting his gold, confident that Reinar was on his way.

  Reinar would come, as Sigurd would in his place. But would his hot-headed brother be clear-eyed enough to see whatever trouble Gudrum was planning?

  Raf slipped into the chamber, standing by the door as it closed.

  ‘You shouldn’t be here,’ Sigurd warned, though he very much wanted to see her. ‘Gudrum will find out.’

  ‘Find out what?’ she sulked. ‘Why would he care?’

  Sigurd smiled sadly, knowing how she felt. Once abandoned, always abandoned. Always seeking some assurance that you weren’t about to be rejected again. ‘Why do you care?’ Sigurd wondered, moving to the edge of the bed. His head pounded, his arm ached, and he felt a great weariness that wouldn’t help him think clearly. ‘You’re a dreamer, so why stay? Surely you can see a way out?’

  Raf sat down beside him, her knee touching his.

  ‘You shouldn’t be here,’ Sigurd tried again.

  Raf kissed him. />
  And turning his entire body towards her, Sigurd kissed her back.

  Alys walked down the main street, eyes on the hall steps where rows of men in thick grey furs guarded the doors. Scores of dead bodies lay at strange angles, frozen by death and the bitter cold.

  They didn’t move.

  She saw Ebben and his father curled up together, but unable to think of what to do about that without drawing attention to herself, Alys hurried on. She had left the children with Arnon, wanting to find her way back to the shed in the hope of seeing Ragnahild again. She didn’t feel comfortable about leaving the children, though Ragnahild would hardly appear to her with anyone else present.

  The horrors of the past few weeks swirled around Alys’ weary mind, and she felt unsettled, as though the earth was shifting beneath her boots. She turned her head, noticing the tiny body hanging above the hall doors. Sverri the Small. And feeling sick to her stomach, she turned sharply to the left, heading down a narrow alley, eager to disappear amongst the cottages.

  Her thoughts wandered, seeking paths in her mind as well as with her boots.

  Solveigh was trapped somewhere, Sigurd was imprisoned somewhere, and Mirella...

  What was Mirella?

  A powerful dreamer but bested easily by Alari.

  Alys rubbed her eyes, unable to think clearly.

  Alari remained a problem. She stood against Thenor, powerful enough to disrupt the ambitions of both lords and dreamers. Perhaps the gods too?

  Alys slipped, falling down to her hands, feeling the crack of ice beneath her knees, grimacing. She saw a vision of Reinar trekking through the snow, big stick in his gloved hand, black cloak making him look like a bear, as it always did. His brow was furrowed, and he looked tired and angry. Worried too.

  And Alys knew then that he was on his way to Orvala.

  As midday approached, they stumbled into a village, and Berger’s smile came rushing back. It helped that Ilene had stopped talking about Sigurd, and as they made themselves at home, to the horror of the villagers, who had no desire to share their hospitality with an army from the South, Berger started to cheer up.

  When Reinar dug into his chest of gold and handed the head of the small village a big handful of coins, the villagers became much more accommodating, and soon they were inundated with ale and what little food could be spared. For despite the gold, it was still winter in the North, and there was nowhere to go to spend the coins. And they certainly couldn’t eat them.

  There were eighteen horses and two sleds, and Reinar bought them all, wanting some help carrying the gold. They’d left a handful of chests behind in Slussfall, keeping one for Sigurd’s ransom and sending the rest with Bjarni. Reinar hadn’t wanted any one person able to get his greedy hands on all of it, and glancing at a bright-eyed Berger, he knew exactly which greedy person he had in mind.

  The wife of the village leader handed Reinar a fur hat. ‘Cold up North,’ she muttered, red nose twitching.

  He smiled at her, appreciating the hat, which fitted him perfectly. ‘Thank you.’ And turning around, he grinned at Bolli. ‘What do you think?’

  Bolli snorted. ‘Your disguise is complete!’

  Reinar laughed, nodding his thanks to the woman before leading Bolli away from the barn, where everyone was preparing the sleds. ‘Dreamers see everything, or they try to, so we can’t pretend we’re something we’re not.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘I can’t just walk through Orvala’s gates with a chest of gold, pretending I’ve come on my own. That it’s just me, here to rescue my brother.’

  Bolli agreed. ‘We need more weapons.’

  ‘We do. Though we’re not likely to find them here.’

  ‘We can take what they’ve got.’

  ‘Well, most of what they’ve got.’

  ‘What we need is a bigger village. Somewhere with a smithy.’

  That was true. ‘I’ll ask around, see if there’s anywhere else on the way to Orvala.’ It was unlikely, Reinar thought, but whoever this Gudrum was, he would hardly be fooled by some charade, so he had to arrive in Orvala like a lord with an army ready to fight. But whether he was going to get Sigurd out peacefully or with a war, Reinar wouldn’t be leaving his brother behind.

  ‘You need to leave before someone finds you here.’

  Raf slid her dress over her head, shoulders slumping, knowing Sigurd was right.

  And yet...

  She turned, kissing him hungrily, body tingling. ‘I’ll come with you.’

  Sigurd shook his head, pushing her away. ‘You’re just jealous. Jealous of Gudrum’s new woman.’

  Raf was quickly enraged, remembering the look on Gudrum’s face as he’d rubbed his lips all over that woman’s neck. ‘How does he decide to marry a stranger? A stranger! But he’s just met her!’ And snatching at her cloak, she swung it around her narrow shoulders, stomping towards the door.

  Sigurd watched her go, picking up his trousers from the floor, hoping they’d been quiet enough not to attract the attention of the guard. He frowned, kicking himself for being so reckless. Though perhaps Gudrum was less concerned with what Raf did now that he appeared to have found himself a wife?

  He shook his head, wishing he had his swordbelt. He’d eaten so little over the past few days that his trousers were almost falling off him. ‘Raf,’ he hissed, hoping to stop her before she opened the door. The small chamber had no windows, and he wanted to hold her one last time. He needed to calm her down before she did anything reckless too. And reaching her, he stroked her short hair, kissing her gently. ‘What do you see?’ he wondered. ‘In your dreams?’

  ‘About you?’ she breathed, tipping back her head, staring into his eyes. ‘More than I will say. And nothing for you to know!’ She was confused and excited and mad all at once, and resisting the urge to rip off her dress again, she spun around, slipping outside with a wink.

  Sigurd closed the door, leaning his back against it, barely noticing that his arm had started bleeding.

  41

  After a few hours of riding, Mirella and Bergit reached their destination, both of them regretting that Mirella had brought Bergit along.

  ‘Though it’s safer to stay by your side, I’m sure,’ Bergit muttered as she dropped down into the snow, relieved to be out of the saddle. She blinked in surprise at the tiny wooden temple hidden down a colonnade of trees. ‘Who can fit in there? Elves?’

  Mirella ignored her, heading for the front door. The steps, as well as the path, were buried beneath the snow, but she had been visiting the brothers’ temple for years now, and she walked with confidence.

  ‘Their main temple is on the Island of Eutresia. It is much more opulent, but a handful of the brothers choose to spend their winters here in contemplation.’

  ‘Contemplation of what?’ Bergit wondered, pushing back her hood as she followed after Mirella.

  Mirella turned back to her. ‘You stay here and watch the horses, Bergit. In fact, why not take them to the stables, find something to eat? I’m sure Brother Greppa will be out soon, needing to ready his own horse.’

  Bergit was disappointed, curious about what lurked inside the temple, but she nodded, hoping the stables were warm.

  Mirella hurried away from her, and reaching the door, she knocked.

  It felt odd to knock, so shaking her head, she pushed it open instead. ‘Greppa?’

  A small man with a thin smile swept into the foyer, though seeing Mirella’s countenance, he was quickly frowning. ‘What has happened? Mirella?’

  ‘Tarl has been betrayed! We have been betrayed, Greppa. It’s Alari! She has picked a new favourite. The man she thinks can defeat us.’

  Greppa staggered backwards, gripping his pale throat in horror. ‘What? Who?’

  Gudrum slumped in Tarl Brava’s enormous wooden chair, surprised to see Raf emerge from the corridor. ‘Where have you been?’ Running his hands down his cheeks, he yawned loudly. The hall was warm, and after weeks in the forest and on the road,
he felt sleepy and comfortable. But still, he frowned at the dreamer. ‘You think our work is done? That you can just disappear, not tell me where you are? But I want to know what you’ve seen. I need to know, Raf!’

  Raf ignored him. She was annoyed and insulted and hurt and desperate to curl into his arms.

  She thought of Sigurd and felt utterly confused.

  Gudrum had saved her, protected her, kept her safe, made her his. She’d felt special, maybe even loved. And now she was to be cast aside and replaced?

  By someone better?

  She headed for the doors.

  ‘Raf!’ Gudrum growled, dragging himself out of the chair and charging after her. ‘What are you doing?’ He snatched her wrist, yanking her around. ‘What are you playing at?’

  ‘Nothing!’ she cried, avoiding his eyes. ‘Why do you care? You have Orvala, and soon you’ll have a new wife! You have a new dreamer too! So why worry about me? I’ll just go. Go back to The Murk. Back to the forest!’

  Tears ran down from big scared eyes, bottom lip wobbling.

  Gudrum laughed, pulling her into his arms. ‘You think I don’t need you? But what’s having a wife got to do with you and me? Do you think I could be without you? But who would I trust to help me? There’s only you, my sweet girl.’ He kissed her quickly, wanting to pacify her, hoping to keep her dreaming for him long enough to decide what to do about Mirella. He didn’t trust Tarl Brava’s dreamer, who would likely be playing her own games, despite the loss of her lord. He still needed Raf.

  Who kissed him desperately, small hands on his scarred face, wanting to know that he still cared for her. And though he kissed her back, she could tell that he wanted her gone. ‘I’ll go and see what I can find,’ she decided quickly, blinking away tears. ‘Perhaps Reinar Vilander will come walking across the ice, dragging his big chest of gold?’ She sounded happy, though she wasn’t.

  ‘Just the one?’ Gudrum wondered with a crooked smile. ‘You’re sure he has just the one?’