The Burning Sea (The Furyck Saga: Book Two)

by A. E. Rayne

  ‘Possessions?’ Gisila felt too irritated to notice where he was touching her now. ‘You wish to keep me in a cage like a gilded bird?’

  Lothar smiled as he lowered himself on top of her.

  Gisila felt all the air leave her body. She couldn’t face that giant weight crushing her again.

  ‘You are my gilded bird, Gisila,’ he grunted as he lifted his nightshirt, jiggling about, trying to find her underneath his rolls of fat. ‘And I won’t have anyone else petting you, especially not Gant. Ahhh,’ he groaned, finding what he was looking for at last. ‘That is what I have been thinking about all day. Your nice, tight cunt. So surprising in a woman of your age.’

  Gisila closed her eyes, cringing, wishing he’d get on with it. She was tired; tired of him and the heavy weight he was determined to crush her with every night. She prayed that Furia would crush him in battle; destroy every last vile piece of him. Slowly though. So that every moment before his death was a bloody, painful, aching terror as he was dragged away to the Nothing – that empty, bleak hole in the Afterlife, where the most useless pieces of shit that walked the Earth were thrown.

  And nobody deserved that fate more than her husband.

  ‘I was asking Gant about Axl,’ Gisila whispered as Lothar bent down, grunting as he thrust himself into her. She could barely catch her breath as it was rhythmically squeezed out of her lungs. ‘Whether he thought that Axl was ready for this battle? Whether he would stay safe? If anything were to happen to him...’ She felt the tears fill her eyes so quickly.

  ‘If anything were to happen to him,’ Lothar said breathlessly between clenched teeth. ‘You would have me. There is no need to fear my love, for I promise, I will return to you.’ He closed his eyes and shunted his body into hers with a lustful groan. ‘There is nothing I wouldn’t do to return to you, Gisila.’

  ‘Poor Fyn,’ Eadmund mumbled between mouthfuls. ‘I think I would rather have stayed and faced Morac than sleep under Odda’s roof!’

  Eydis didn’t say anything as she spooned soup into her mouth, but her cheeks spoke volumes. Even in the dull firelight of the hall, Jael could see the colour that rose quickly on them. It had been that way since Fyn had returned to the fort.

  Jael smiled. ‘Well, perhaps your father should have him come and live in the hall? There are spare bedchambers here, aren’t there?’

  Eydis spluttered a spoonful of nettle soup all over her red dress.

  ‘Are you alright?’ Eadmund wondered as he ripped off a piece of bread to soak up the remnants of his soup, half listening to Thorgils on his other side.

  ‘Yes, yes, fine,’ his little sister mumbled as she dabbed uselessly at herself with a cloth.

  ‘Here, let me help you,’ Jael said guiltily, taking Eydis’ cloth and wiping the splatters of soup from her dress. She caught Aleksander’s eye as he watched her from across the hall and smiled. He’d decided to eat with his men, much to Jael’s relief. It gave her a chance to talk to Eadmund, which was something she was beginning to realise she was avoiding. They had barely spoken a word to each other since the arrival of the visitors.

  ‘Thank you, Jael,’ Eydis said gratefully, trying to forget Fyn for a moment. ‘Is there any change in your grandmother yet?’

  ‘No,’ Jael said sadly. ‘No, but she is not worse, which is a good sign, Biddy says. Her fever is steady. Perhaps she may even start to improve tomorrow?’

  ‘She will,’ Eydis insisted as she pushed her bowl away. ‘My dream was very strong. I haven’t had one like it for a while.’

  Eadmund was distracted as Thorgils mumbled on about Odda. He was watching his father and Morac as they stood around the fire with Otto and Sevrin. Judging by the smiles on everyone’s faces, Morac was being welcomed back into the fold. But what about Evaine? Had she had the baby? His mind was all over the place. Taking a quick sip of ale, he left Thorgils to moan to Torstan instead, and turned to his sister, trying to distract himself. ‘Father tells me that he’s making you stay with Biddy while we’re gone.’

  Eydis frowned, pouting, looking very much like a 13-year-old girl all of a sudden. ‘He is. Yes.’

  Eadmund laughed at her stroppy face. ‘You think you should be left here by yourself? In the hall? Alone?’

  ‘No, but I don’t see why I can’t come with you. At least to Saala,’ she pleaded, and not for the first time. ‘I could help.’

  ‘Help?’ Eadmund snorted. ‘What? Feed and water the horses sort of help?’

  ‘I could help with dreams!’

  Eadmund wrapped his arm gently around Eydis’ shoulders. ‘Yes, I’m sure you could.’

  ‘You won’t have a dreamer,’ she reminded him. ‘What happens if I dream something important? A warning? There would be no one to hear me. To stop it from happening.’

  ‘It?’ Jael wondered, trying not to peer at Morac. She despised the miserable looking man for what he had done to Fyn and had been fighting the urge to confront him all evening.

  Eydis dropped her head, her shoulders slumping sadly. ‘Father’s death. What if it happens in the battle with Haaron?’ she sighed. ‘It must, mustn’t it? And I won’t be there. I won’t be able to help like I did with you.’

  Eadmund and Jael exchanged a rare look, a look of happiness that she had survived Tarak. That Eadmund had saved her. Just in time.

  Thanks to Eydis.

  ‘Well, perhaps it isn’t such a bad idea,’ Jael mused.

  Eadmund shook his head firmly. ‘Edela sees this battle going wrong, Eydis. Whether it’s the Brekkans or the Islanders, who knows what will happen. And Saala is too close to the border to have you there. Not if Haaron runs through us.’

  ‘But if Haaron runs through you, then what hope will there be anyway?’ Eydis insisted. ‘He will come for Andala, and he will come for the islands. So what does it matter if I die at Saala or on Oss? If you are all to die, and I am to die, then I would rather have done something to help and at least not be left here on my own!’

  Jael raised a suggestive eyebrow at Eadmund, who still looked unconvinced. But she suddenly wondered if it wasn’t such a bad idea. A dreamer would always come in handy.

  ‘You are going to stay here,’ Ivaar Skalleson said matter-of-factly as he rolled off Ayla and wandered over to the night bucket to piss. ‘I’ll have no need for you in Saala.’

  Ayla looked relieved as she hurried to slip on her nightdress. Ivaar had been spending so many nights in her cottage that it felt as though she couldn’t even breathe without him knowing. It would be a relief to have him gone, but a part of her felt as though she should be there, with him. Something was gnawing away at her, and had been now for a long time; something she needed to dream on. But with Ivaar suffocating her, Ayla couldn’t even think, let alone dream. ‘As you wish,’ she murmured, rolling over and pulling the furs up to her chin, hoping that he would just leave her be.

  Ivaar rushed back to bed, sliding in beside her. He frowned, thinking of Saala and having to face his father again. And his brother. Not to mention Jael, who really was responsible for all of it. His reinstatement as his father’s heir had been so close until she turned Eirik to her favour. Hers and Eadmund’s.

  But Ivaar was not prepared to sit back and watch as they stole the throne away from him. His father would not last long, Ayla was certain of that. And then it would be time to put his plan in place.

  Jael felt caught between two pairs of eyes, and neither of them looked especially pleased with her.

  Oss was Eadmund’s home, and he was comfortable here. But Aleksander... he was her oldest friend, and she could tell that he wasn’t comfortable at all. So, risking Eadmund’s wrath, Jael left the high table to join Aleksander by the fire. ‘I still can’t believe that sea-fire,’ she marvelled, her eyes glowing in the flames as she approached. ‘How did Edela know how to make it?’

  ‘It was in a book she was given in Tuura,’ Aleksander said, happy for her company. It had been torturous to watch her with her husband; odd to feel as though they were
strangers now, when he knew her better than anyone. ‘I’m not sure the elders knew it was there. Edela said it was hidden away inside some other potion. A dream led her to it. As it often does,’ he smiled sadly.

  ‘You really should tell me what happened in Tuura,’ Jael whispered, leaning closer to him, blinking at the surprising familiarity of his scent. ‘Why you went there? In winter!’

  Aleksander shook his head, sipping on his ale. He had drunk more cups than he could count now, desperate to disappear inside a numb haze. ‘It’s a spider’s web of confusion,’ he murmured. ‘No point in starting things that Edela must finish. Be patient.’

  ‘Ha! Have you forgotten me that easily?’ Jael laughed.

  Aleksander found himself relaxing with her closeness, with that mesmerising face he had missed so much. ‘Oh no, I remember all too well how much trouble you are. In fact, it’s been quite a relief to have you gone!’

  Jael punched him in the arm, suppressing a grin.

  ‘Shall we go?’ Eadmund muttered as he came up behind his wife. He was almost a head taller than her – as tall as Aleksander – but whereas Aleksander was lean and angular, Eadmund was thick and bulky; bulk that had been drink-saturated fat for many years, but had slowly refined to muscle during the winter.

  Jael’s smile dropped at the look on Eadmund’s face. She turned to Aleksander. ‘Are you ready?’

  Aleksander peered hazily around the hall. His men seemed happy enough, mingling more easily with the Osslanders now. It had been a louder, more festive night; that was a good sign. ‘Let’s go,’ he said, at last, glancing at Eadmund whose face looked much like his own must have when Jael was taken from him. But despite any sympathy Aleksander might feel for her husband, he was just as ready to gut him with his knife and take Jael back home to Andala.

  Eirik wasn’t sure how he felt as he stood there watching Morac bid goodnight to Sevrin and Otto. They had shared more than a few cups together, and he couldn’t deny that it had been pleasant. He’d missed Morac’s company and the ease that years of familiarity breeds. But it wasn’t the same. It could never be the same after the words they had thrown at each other like sharpened spears. Those wounds had left scars, and those scars hadn’t healed.

  Morac’s smile faded as he turned to face his thoughtful king. He drained his cup and handed it to the nearest servant. ‘I should find my way back to Runa now, I think.’

  Eirik frowned. ‘And is she happy to have you back? With Fyn there?’

  Morac’s mouth hung open while he searched for an answer. ‘Well, no, I don’t suppose she is. Not after she found out about my part in things.’ He stroked his pointed grey beard, his eyes wandering the hall again. He kept expecting to see Fyn and that unpleasant thought kept him on edge. ‘But she is my wife. We have been through a lot, she and I. It will just take some time.’

  Eirik picked at his teeth, feeling weary, needing his bed. ‘Well, I wish you luck there. It has been many years since I had a wife, but I do remember how it goes. And generally not well, if she’s annoyed with you.’

  ‘Ha!’ Morac laughed. ‘I think you’re right there, but I can only try.’

  ‘So, you wish to stay on Oss then?’

  Morac squirmed. ‘Well, I promised Evaine that I would return for her. Perhaps, as you say, I must build a house on Rikka. Get her out of that crumbling shack. Although...’

  Eirik shook his head quickly. ‘No, she’s not welcome here. I’ve told you that. I am in no need of another daughter-in-law. I’m more than happy with the one I have. And soon she will provide Eadmund with an heir.’

  Morac raised a tired eyebrow. ‘You don’t think she’s too busy training for battle and going to war for that?’

  Eirik smiled. ‘Perhaps, but there will be time, of course there will. She knows the importance of an heir, no matter what she may think of actually having to do it. I have faith in Jael. She returned Eadmund to me. And soon, their marriage will be complete. Hopefully, before I’m burning on my pyre!’

  Morac clamped his teeth together to hide his irritation. Jael Furyck had well and truly clawed her way into Eirik’s heart. He had a soft spot for her now, that was obvious, but then again, Eirik had always been weak when it came to women. Except one, of course.

  And now, that would come around to haunt him.

  The moon was just a sliver amongst the stars – barely enough for most people to see by – but Morana Gallas was not like most people. And she certainly didn’t want any light to illuminate her escape from Rikka.

  She had been hiding in her cave in the mountains for weeks, ever since she had bid goodbye to her daughter. It had to be that way. For everything to fall into place, they could no longer be together. She had barely felt a pang, though. None of this was about Evaine. She was merely a useful tool.

  Like a sharp knife, Evaine would cut the heart out of her mortal enemy.

  Jael Furyck.

  They all thought that Furia’s daughter could stop it. Save them from what was coming, and soon. But Morana had dreamed of the book.

  And she was going to get it.

  ‘Are you alright?’ Jael murmured, stretching out her cold legs, considering where to place them. They were lying next to each other like two wooden poles, rigid, motionless, neither one touching the other. As frozen as her feet were, it didn’t feel right to claim her husband’s warmth.

  ‘Alright?’ Eadmund asked blankly into the dark silence of the room as Vella came up and sniffed his beard. He pushed her away, down into the crook of his arm. She started licking his hand.

  He didn’t know what to say.

  ‘There’s a lot to think about...’ Jael tried.

  ‘Is there?’ Eadmund sounded worried.

  ‘I mean, with leaving for Saala and facing Haaron’s fleet. The battle. Edela too. And...’ she trailed off, unsure whether it was wise to say any more.

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well, it’s not easy having Aleksander here, is it? For you,’ she said quietly. Bluntly. Wise or not, better not to have the great unsaid thing sitting in the corner of the room, unsaid.

  Eadmund frowned, his body tense. ‘For me? And you?’ he asked, swallowing. ‘Is it easy for you?’

  Jael’s chest tightened. ‘No, it’s not. It has not been long enough.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘I... we were together for so many years, Aleksander and I. Our mothers were best friends. We grew up with each other, and then, when his parents died, he became part of my family. We were inseparable until I left for here, to marry you...’

  ‘It’s confusing for you?’

  Jael paused. ‘No. No. Just difficult... he’s my friend. He’s always been my friend.’

  ‘But he was more than that,’ Eadmund said coldly. ‘Why didn’t you marry him if you were so close? You loved him.’

  Jael listened to the soft snores from Ido, who had curled up on her feet. ‘Marriage is ownership,’ she said at last. ‘I had no desire to be owned, even by someone I loved.’

  ‘And now?’ he asked, hesitantly.

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Do you feel owned by me?’

  ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘But the law says that I’m owned by you. That you can decide my fate.’

  Eadmund lay perfectly still, feeling no movement in his body at all, apart from the quickening thud of his worried heart. ‘Perhaps, but I hardly think you’re about to let me decide your fate, are you? Not without a fight, I’m sure.’

  Jael frowned, listening to Edela’s hacking cough through the wall. This conversation was heading down a path that led to a long drop off a high cliff. Better to leave it till her tongue wasn’t so weary. ‘We should get some sleep. There’s a lot to do tomorrow. We need to be training the archers all day. They still haven’t mastered the houses. And now with the sea-fire... we need to think how we’re going to keep it on board safely and we still have to sort out the braziers too...’

  ‘Mmmm,’ Eadmund murmured sadly, not caring at all about the brazier
s or the sea-fire. ‘Sleep well, then.’ He rolled over.

  It was so strange not to even touch each other, Jael thought, as they lay there like islands, separated by a vast, quickly freezing sea. ‘Sleep well.’

  5

  It was an unusually warm day for the beginning of spring and Jaeger could feel beads of sweat bursting along his upper lip as he wandered back towards the castle after an early morning swim. Hest had a dry, warm climate but he had not expected to change his quilted tunic for a light linen one this early in the season.

  ‘And where are you scurrying away to?’ Bayla smiled as she grabbed his bulging arm and looked up at his tired face. ‘Sneaking away from some poor girl?’ He didn’t reply. ‘You certainly look as though sleep is not something you’ve been getting a lot of lately.’

  Jaeger stopped under an archway of curling white blossoms and frowned. ‘I know you didn’t like my wife, Mother, but have some respect. Elissa’s ashes are still warm. Not to mention my son’s.’ He shook his mother’s hand off and glared at her.

  Bayla blinked away the spark of irritation that flared at his rudeness. She was used to it, and besides, he was right, she conceded. She had never liked the girl. Elissa had been comely enough to look at but far too silly for her liking. Haaron had made a poor choice there. At least now that she was gone there was a chance to make a much better match for him. ‘You’re right,’ Bayla murmured. ‘I know it is hard for you with such heavy losses to bear. And now, with the Furycks to fight. Again.’ She resisted the urge to roll her cool blue eyes at the boredom of it all. ‘The last thing you need, I’m sure.’

  ‘I would rather destroy the Furycks than sit about in the castle watching Father fawn over Haegen every day.’

  ‘Of course, but what makes you think you can destroy them? Why this time over any other?’ Bayla was tired herself. She had barely slept, but it had been worth it. She sighed, smiling at the memory of her new lover. What a pleasure it was to spend time with a young man. She slipped her arm through her moody son’s and walked with him towards the castle, deciding to forgo her own swim until after breakfast.