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

by A. E. Rayne

  ‘We’re here to save the Vilanders!’ Jonas shouted. ‘Gudrum has them!’

  ‘Gudrum? How?’ It didn’t make sense to Ulrick, though he knew Tarl would be approaching Orvala from the west, so he could hardly linger outside the wall leaving his lord to be outnumbered, likely slaughtered, by those inside the city.

  ‘We want to kill Gudrum!’ Ollo added, hoping that would encourage Ulrick to join with them. They could have remained hidden in the trees, but that wouldn’t have helped Reinar and Sigurd. And Eddeth had certainly had a bad feeling about Reinar and Sigurd.

  ‘Gudrum? And then what?’

  ‘Ulrick!’ came Alvear’s roar of displeasure as he pushed his horse forward. ‘Kill them!’

  Ulrick didn’t turn around.

  ‘And then we go home and leave you the scraps of whatever’s left!’ Vik called. ‘We came for the Vilanders! That’s it! Our army, your army... we can work together! Get into the city! Defeat Gudrum! It makes sense!’

  Ulrick ignored Alvear’s snarling, knowing that after their losses in the ambush, they stood a better chance of overthrowing Gudrum with some help. He turned, eyes on the men on the wall, wondering if Mirella’s scouts had been right. ‘What men do you have inside?’ His thoughts kept shifting, weighing up his options, though Bergit and Lotta remained at the forefront of his mind.

  Jonas nodded. ‘A handful only. Everyone else is here!’

  Ulrick stared at him for a moment, ignoring a spluttering Ollo. Then, wheeling his horse around, he spurred him towards Alvear.

  Gudrum almost fell as he ran down the main street, desperate to get to the ramparts, struggling to comprehend what was happening. The sky had darkened considerably since the sacrifice, thunder rumbling ominously, though his mind wasn’t on storms. It was on Raf, who’d he sent away.

  And his enemies, who he’d invited in.

  Ilmar ran behind him, eyes on the drummers, who appeared dazed, staring straight ahead. They didn’t react to the sight of their lord tearing down the street, cloak flapping angrily behind him, sword in his hand.

  Mirella didn’t run. She was slow, careful on the slippery street.

  And sensing that she was falling behind, Gudrum turned to grab her, pushing her into the guard tower, shoving her up the stairs. ‘Is this you?’ he bellowed when they emerged onto the rampart walk. ‘You did this?’ He saw the guards lining the wall, motionless, silent, none acknowledging the arrival of their lord, seemingly unaware that an army was amassing before the gates.

  And where else?

  Where else was his enemy coming from?

  Gudrum spun around, his mind unravelling with speed.

  He hit the nearest man on the shoulder, though he didn’t even flinch. ‘What did you do?’ he shouted at Mirella, wanting to hit her too.

  ‘Me?’ Mirella trembled, looking afraid. ‘Your dreamer is friends with a goddess. Friends with Sigurd Vilander too. She was in his bed, plotting with him. She’s the one who hid this from you! I couldn’t see Tarl Brava. I thought he was dead. Raf said as much! I couldn’t see him. Alari hid him from me. You know that. Alari and your dreamer!’

  She looked horrified, Gudrum thought as he spun away, even more confused.

  Raf? He didn’t believe Raf would have betrayed him.

  But Mirella?

  He turned back to her, lifting his sword, lips curled into a snarl.

  Mirella’s eyes sharpened, and Gudrum’s sword was quickly clattering to the rampart walk, his attention dragged away from the dreamer towards the men charging at the gates. They rode horses, and those horses’ hooves thundered in time to the beat of the drums. Gudrum blinked, trying to focus, but the rhythmic noise had his head reeling, and he couldn’t think at all.

  ‘My lord?’ Ilmar didn’t understand what had happened. He sheathed his sword, shaking Gudrum, though his lord didn’t appear to even see him. Spinning around, he grabbed Mirella, shaking her. ‘What have you done?’ Though Ilmar, too, was quickly trapped in the same haze, hands falling to his sides.

  Mirella was tempted to kill them both, though her own thoughts were oddly scattered. She could feel Tarl nearby. His voice was in her ears for the first time in days, and there was comfort in that; a desire to see him again too. Alari was close; she got a strong sense of her presence. Her father was coming.

  But Alys? Lotta?

  What was happening with them?

  And leaving the ramparts behind, Mirella hurried to the stairs.

  Arnon dragged a sobbing Lotta down the hall steps with one hand, pulling Alys with the other. His stomach stung where Magnus’ knife had cut him, his rage overflowing now.

  It was all the boy’s fault.

  Everything had gone wrong between him and Alys when that boy had arrived.

  ‘No!’ Alys roared, finally tugging her hand out of Arnon’s crushing grip. She was conscious of needing to keep Lotta safe. Lotta, who was hysterical, not wanting to leave Magnus and Puddle behind. ‘Leave, Arnon! Just leave us alone!’ And backing away from her husband, Alys screamed as some of Gudrum’s warriors ran out of the hall, the drummers still thumping their pulsing rhythm in the street. ‘Go! Please, and I won’t hurt you. Just go!’

  ‘Hurt me?’ Arnon laughed, boots slipping on the step, the cold air sobering him quickly.

  ‘I have no time for you now, Arnon. I must get the children to safety!’ And turning back to the hall, Alys wrapped her hand around Lotta’s wrist, moving her towards the open doors, wanting to find Magnus.

  But Arnon wasn’t about to let her go. To simply walk away from him?

  As though he was nothing?

  Lunging at his wife, he grabbed her hood, yanking her so violently that she lost her footing, slipping, falling onto her back.

  ‘Mama!’ Lotta cried as her mother fell, turning to see Magnus push his way outside.

  ‘Mama!’ Magnus had no weapon to hand now. No Puddle either. The puppy was running loose, still attached to his rope.

  Hearing Lotta’s screams, Puddle bounded down the steps towards her, barking at Arnon, who flicked his boot at the puppy, meaning to do him harm.

  ‘No!’ Magnus shouted, unable to get through.

  But Alys had seen what Arnon would do, and she slipped her knife from its scabbard, stabbing it into her husband’s leg.

  ‘Alys!’ Reinar ran out of the hall, nearly knocking over Magnus. He pulled up, sword in hand, as Arnon staggered backwards, sliding down the steps, falling to the ground.

  ‘I never wanted to kill you!’ Alys cried, up on her feet now, suddenly unaware of anyone else. ‘I just wanted you to disappear! To go away! To leave! With Ilene! With anyone! Just to leave me alone!’ She was crying unhelpfully, and now she couldn’t see, but the knife had torn a deep hole in Arnon’s left leg, and he was struggling to get back to his feet.

  Eventually, he mounted the bottom step, rage building again.

  Alys threw away her knife, drawing her father’s sword, aware of more men rushing out of the hall past them all. The sound of drumming finally died away as the roar of warriors filled the air.

  Thunder too.

  ‘We have to go! Alys!’ Reinar called, pushing Magnus behind him, wanting the boy far away from whatever happened next. ‘Alys!’

  Ludo joined them. ‘Alys!’

  ‘Then stay!’ Arnon bellowed, grabbing Lotta, wrapping an arm around her chest, lifting it up to her throat. ‘You stay!’ He stepped down, onto the ground. ‘But I’m taking my daughter. I didn’t come all this way to leave her with an ungrateful bitch like you!’

  ‘Mama!’ Lotta shrieked, then feeling that arm tighten further, she started whimpering, trying to squirm away from her father’s hold.

  Alys was immediately back in Ullaberg, clutching her baby daughter to her chest while Arnon shouted and yelled, slapping her, Magnus crying in a corner.

  And there wasn’t going to be one more day when her children were threatened or hurt by this man.

  Not one more day.

  Not one more.<
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  ‘Aarrghh!’ Alys screamed, swinging back her sword, pushing down her boots as she brought her blade across Arnon’s throat, taking off his head. The force of the strike unbalanced her, and stumbling, she fell to her knees, watching as Arnon’s head rolled into the street, his headless body collapsing before her.

  Lotta froze as her father slid away from her, too stunned to speak.

  ‘Run!’ Sigurd flew down the steps, Gudrum’s men chasing him.

  And then a horn.

  ‘To the gates! The gates!’ men were shouting, voices strained in anger. ‘Tarl Brava is here! Get to the fucking gates!’

  And caught between a few escaping prisoners who likely wouldn’t get far and the men urgently warning of an attack, Gudrum’s men ran past Reinar’s, heading for the wall.

  ‘Alys!’ Reinar hurried down the steps, Ludo following with Magnus, Berger bringing up the rear.

  ‘We have to get out of here!’ Berger panicked. The morning was dark with storm now, snow falling, but he could see everything, including Alys as she rose, pulling Lotta to her.

  And turning to Reinar, tears flooded her eyes.

  She couldn’t move.

  ‘Come on!’ Reinar urged, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. ‘Come on. The children are safe, we’re all together. Come on!’ His eyes snapped to where Ludo was helping Magnus retrieve the barking puppy, then at Lotta, covered in blood, looking as stunned as her mother.

  Alys turned back to the hall, blinking. ‘I need to get Solveigh. Please!’

  ‘What?’ Ludo was confused. ‘Who?’

  But Sigurd had turned around and was already charging up the steps, sword out as he swept back into the hall, looking for Gudrum’s new wife.

  Tarl had been riding for days, climbing out of ditches since dawn, so frozen that he was certain he would snap in two. And now he was here.

  Orvala.

  Home.

  Offa panted beside him. They had enough men to cause trouble, but without the mounted troops Ulrick and Alvear were leading, they’d be quickly overcome. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake, and knowing that he’d already let Gudrum and his dreamer lure him into a trap, he was unusually hesitant.

  ‘We should go,’ Offa urged, rolling his tight shoulders. He hated standing still, assaulted by the bitter cold.

  ‘And what? Give ourselves no chance?’ Tarl barked angrily, turning on his friend. ‘We wait for the signal as agreed. Once those gates are open, we go.’ He peered again at those men who stood guard on the western tower, but though they appeared to be looking their way, they never rose a hand, never opened their mouths.

  They didn’t move at all.

  ‘We wait,’ Tarl insisted again, tightening his gloved hand around his sword, trying not to imagine what Gudrum was doing to his wife.

  Solveigh followed Sigurd with some reluctance. He’d caught her with a knife in her hand, looking as though she intended to hurt herself, and not blaming her in the slightest, he knocked it out of her hand anyway. ‘Save that for later,’ he growled, eyes on the enormous crown on top of her head. And realising that she was going to be hard to miss, he pulled it off, glancing around the hall for a cloak to cover her white dress. ‘Best thing you can do is stay quiet and let us save you.’ Sigurd saw a deep reluctance in her eyes, and he felt impatient, hearing shouts outside the hall. ‘Tarl Brava is coming. And if he doesn’t recapture Orvala, you’ll be stuck with Gudrum, so you’d better come with me!’ Ripping a cloak off a dead body, Sigurd straightened up, wrapping it quickly around Solveigh’s slumped shoulders, lifting the hood over her head. ‘Stay by my side, whatever happens. I’ll keep you safe.’

  Solveigh didn’t care about safe. She didn’t care if she lived or died, but she did want to get away from her two husbands, so she followed Sigurd Vilander to the open doors of the almost empty hall, where two of Gudrum’s men waited with raised swords, big and threatening.

  ‘Step away from the lady,’ one growled. ‘Do it.’

  Sigurd pushed Solveigh behind him, readying his sword.

  Then he saw Reinar, who slammed his own sword into the biggest man’s back. And knocking him to the ground, Reinar pulled out his blade, straightening up to jam it through the other’s man’s throat as he turned around. ‘Come on!’ he cried as that man gurgled, collapsing sideways. ‘We have to get out of here!’ And leaving his brother to follow him, Reinar turned away, flying down the steps to Alys, hoping she knew how to get them out of Orvala quickly.

  Greppa Sunstrom, splattered in dried blood and shaking from head to toe, watched them go, slinking backwards, one step at a time, eager to get back to his chamber and lock the door.

  Praying to Eutresia that Mirella knew what she was doing.

  Mirella turned away from the wall, feeling torn.

  Tarl needed her to open the gates, where Ulrick Dyre waited with his mounted warriors, yet every moment she remained near the wall allowed Alys and Lotta to slip further away from her. She could sense them running, trying to escape with the Vilanders.

  The men guarding the gates were hers. She had bound them to do her bidding. Those on the ramparts were lost, trapped in a haze thanks to the potion she had worked on with Greppa. They wouldn’t stand in Ulrick’s way. Nor would Gudrum, who was wrapped in magic, lost in his own mind.

  But her daughter?

  Mirella twitched, realising how many pieces were on her barta board now.

  She saw herself sitting opposite Tarl, just the two of them at a table beside the fire. He smiled at her with those dark eyes, stroking his beard into a sharp point before moving his hand to one of the pieces.

  The raven.

  Mirella blinked, turning away from the gates, feeling drawn to the docks.

  The raven?

  Tarl shook his head at her, and with a smile, he reached instead for a different piece.

  The warrior.

  The storm was crashing down on Orvala now, the sky shaking with thunder, rent by lightning. Though when the lightning disappeared, they were plunged into darkness, struggling to see.

  Alys was still in shock, seeing Arnon’s head dropping to the steps, feeling her sword against her leg. Her children were panicking somewhere behind her, the sound of their frantic voices suddenly loud in her ears, and she blinked, noticing Reinar beside her.

  Sigurd and Solveigh had joined them, though no one knew what to do.

  Gudrum’s men didn’t appear to care. They were running for the wall, fearing their enemy was about to burst through the gates.

  Ludo turned to Alys, wiping his bleeding nose. ‘Where can we go? Can you see a way out?’

  ‘Sea’s frozen,’ Sigurd said, tightening his grip on Solveigh’s hand. ‘Gudrum’s men are on the wall.’

  ‘But there’s only one wall,’ Berger insisted, glaring at the barking puppy, quickly irritated by that yapping sound. ‘We can head east. There must be a way out through there!’

  Alys blinked, staring at Puddle.

  And then she woke up, Ragnahild’s voice rasping in her ears. She turned to Sigurd. ‘We go to the piers! Take the children! Go to the piers! Hurry!’

  ‘The piers? What?’ Sigurd blinked at Alys as she pushed her children towards Berger and Ludo.

  ‘Take their hands, don’t let them go! Please!’

  ‘But the sea’s frozen!’ Lightning tore through the sky, and Sigurd caught a glimpse of Gudrum on the wall, knowing what would happen if they couldn’t escape.

  ‘Trust me,’ Alys insisted, Arnon’s blood in her mouth, Reinar’s hand in hers. She shuddered, fearing what she’d become. ‘Please! We have to go, Sigurd! Hurry!’ She glanced at her children, then back up at Ludo and Berger, hoping they’d be safe.

  Sigurd was confused by everything that was happening, but Gudrum had dragged him around the city, and despite the stormy darkness, he had his bearings. ‘This way!’ he called. ‘Follow me!’

  Thunder came like a charging army of the gods, and Alys knew she was right.

  This was wh
at Ragnahild had known would happen all along.

  She saw a glimpse of Mirella by the gates, heard the sound of hooves getting louder, and feeling danger accelerating, Alys ran, pulling Reinar after her.

  Sigurd turned to Lotta, who held Berger’s hand. ‘You hold on tight now.’ And he dropped his eyes to the puppy who was finally quiet, waiting beside the little girl, secured with his rope. ‘And whatever you do, don’t let go of that puppy!’

  ‘No!’ Raf screamed, shaking uncontrollably now. Eddeth was turning purple opposite her, arms drooping. ‘I can’t!’

  Eddeth felt much the same, but she clenched her jaw, eyes closed, knowing that if their walls broke, Alari would be free to hurt them all.

  ‘Hold on!’ Valera warned, watching Alari prowling around with confidence now, her eye on Raf. ‘Please!’

  The sky was almost entirely dark above them, and watching from the trees, Stina feared that Alari was doing something with her mind. She eyed Aldo, who held a sword now, though he didn’t appear very confident with it. She had no weapon of her own bar a slightly blunt eating knife.

  But against the Goddess of Magic?

  ‘Do you truly think you can hold me prisoner, little girl?’ Alari purred, smiling at Raf, who was desperately trying to avoid her eye.

  ‘Keep going!’ Eddeth cried, her resolve strengthening now that Alari had turned her attention to Raf. ‘We need to keep going!’

  ‘Shut up, you useless bitch!’ Alari snarled before turning back to Raf, her voice suddenly melodious again. ‘You can hear the trouble, can’t you? In the city? What will happen, do you think? To Gudrum? For it’s Gudrum you truly care about. Gudrum who saved you, who gave you a home. You might want to crawl into Sigurd Vilander’s bed, but Gudrum has your heart.’

  Tears rolled down Raf’s dirty cheeks, wondering if Alari was right.

  ‘You don’t want Sigurd Vilander. Who is he? Nothing to you!’ Alari crept closer and closer, feeling Raf weaken.