The Burning Sea (The Furyck Saga: Book Two)

by A. E. Rayne

  Entorp wasn’t expecting that. ‘No, no, I’m not.’ He glanced towards Eydis who was sitting quietly on a stool next to him. They were all sitting on stools around a bright fire, each with a cup of small ale in their hands. It was not a well-insulated cottage – its wattle and daub walls needed urgent repairing – but the fire helped.

  Aleksander adjusted himself on his wobbling stool. It was tiny and unbalanced, but there appeared to be no better option that he could see. ‘So, you cured Edela with magic then?’

  Entorp shook his head. ‘I do not really practice magic. Not as you would imagine it. But I do know plants and healing and symbols. There is much in there that is magical.’

  ‘And you have wisdom and knowledge,’ Edela said slowly. ‘Everything we are going to need to keep Jael safe.’

  Entorp nodded, scratching nervously at his orange and white beard. ‘Now that the girl has returned.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Edela said firmly. ‘She wants Eadmund for herself. For her child. But is that all? I do not imagine so.’

  ‘Do you know of Morana Gallas?’ Aleksander asked.

  Entorp shivered as though a cold breeze had slipped past his body. ‘I have heard of her. People talk. They tell some terrifying tales.’

  The fire spat loudly. Eydis jumped.

  ‘Morana wants to remove Jael as well,’ Edela said, stroking one of Entorp’s white cats as it weaved itself around her legs. ‘Because Jael is meant for something. A Tuuran prophecy says so. The elders would not tell me much, but they did warn me that I was the only one who could save her. I am certain I will not be able to do it alone.’

  Entorp nodded seriously. ‘I agree. I saw Evaine this morning, and she is not the same.’

  ‘No?’ Aleksander wondered.

  ‘No, she is not,’ Eydis muttered, shaking her head. ‘I have seen her in my dreams, and she is powerful now.’

  ‘Yes, she is,’ Entorp agreed. ‘She has knowledge. From Morana.’

  Aleksander glanced at Edela, worried.

  ‘And that knowledge will make her a dangerous enemy indeed,’ Edela murmured, sipping her ale, desperate to soothe her ragged throat. She was suddenly very tired, and her back was aching as she stooped over on the uncomfortable stool. Cold too. But more than anything, she was worried about Jael.

  Jael was finding it hard to catch her breath. That was a good thing. There was no time to think when you had to focus all of your energy on simply breathing.

  Fyn skittered to the right, Thorgils to the left, both taunting her to attack.

  Fighting her friends had been therapeutic. Her limbs felt lighter, her shoulders looser. She smiled as she firmed her grip on the swords.

  Two swords.

  She hadn’t done that in a while.

  ‘I really do need to go and see Beorn,’ she said loudly, between breaths. ‘Time we ended our little game, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more, Jael!’ Thorgils bellowed, rushing at her with his sword, a smile already curling his hairy lips.

  He had a plan.

  He feinted to the left, throwing out his sword, but at the last moment, Jael saw the twinkle in his eye. She jerked to the left, leaving Thorgils to fall face first into the mud. The Pit erupted with laughter as Jael stalked towards Fyn, her two swords free for just him now. She swung them around in a twirling movement, teasing him, distracting him.

  Fyn didn’t even blink as Jael approached. He had a shield, and he used it, butting it towards her, his sword tip poking over the rim, ready to attack. Jael leaned back and kicked his shield as hard as she could, following it up with an explosive battering from both swords. Fyn lost his balance, slipping in the mud. He pushed his leg back but it was too late, he was down. He rolled, but Jael was over him quickly, her swords across his throat.

  She spun away quickly as a mud-covered, red-headed tree came charging to claim his revenge. Jael skirted Thorgils in a flash, rapping the backs of his legs with her swords, kicking him in back as he tried to stay upright. Thorgils’ legs buckled, tangled, and he tumbled on top of Fyn, who had not hurried to get up after his defeat.

  Jael let out a loud laugh at the sight of Thorgils lying on top of poor Fyn in the mud. She was not alone. Their fight had captured the attention of most in the Pit, and the men who stood around watching had enjoyed the show, as they often did when Jael was fighting.

  ‘It’s a wonder you have any friends, Jael!’ Thorgils called after her as she bowed to him and headed out of the Pit, towards Aleksander who was leaning over the railings, smiling at her.

  Jael sighed, happy to see him. ‘Let’s go for a ride.’

  Morac looked at Eirik, who looked at Eadmund, who squirmed.

  It was Evaine who broke the silence. ‘Perhaps you would just allow us to stay until you return from the battle, my lord? Just until then,’ she said demurely, her eyes low to the floor. ‘It would give us both a chance to recover our strength. My mother will care for us, her and the servants. And being inside a warm house will help. With real food too.’

  Eirik could see it now when he looked at her. Morana. Morana’s hair had been fair once; as blonde as sun-dappled snow. But, by the time he had banished her, it had turned half black. Black and white and terrifying to look at; much like Morana, the last time he had seen her. Eirik shook his head. He didn’t want to be devoured by any more memories. Let them come to claim him when he was dead.

  They were standing in the hall. Eirik didn’t care who saw. It was no secret what Eadmund had done. And he was eager for everyone to see just how opposed he was to this... mistake, on Eadmund’s part; opposed, but still fair. It would not look good for a king to throw out a girl and her sick baby, especially as the baby in question was his own grandson. And of course, Evaine knew that, he could see. He could hear it in her words, too. She was clever but young. And age brought with it many gifts. So, Eirik could see through Evaine and her carefully moderated voice, and her solemn demeanour; through her sober attire and her submissive posture. She was a manipulative child, he thought to himself. And Eadmund had unfortunately not been old enough, nor wise enough to see through her from the start.

  ‘You may,’ Eirik said at last. As Jael had said, there was no choice. Not now. Not yet. But in time, they would find a way to rid Oss of Evaine, and with her, Morac, and that bastard son of hers. ‘But only until we return. By then, as you say, you will have your strength, so you can return to Rikka. And, if Eadmund wishes, he may visit you and the boy there from time to time, in the new, warm house that Morac has promised to build for you both.’

  Morac nodded. It was more than he had hoped for, considering how furious Eirik had been. He smiled encouragingly at Evaine.

  Eadmund was not sure how to feel. Pleased? Relieved? There would be time, of course, to change Eirik’s mind, he knew that. Because now that he had met his son, he could not imagine being without him. He would have to find a way to convince both Eirik and Jael that Sigmund’s place was on Oss.

  Evaine glanced at Eadmund. She could sense him turning towards her now, his loyalty slowly shifting. It was all starting to fall into place, just as Morana had promised.

  Jael ran her cold hand down Tig’s cold face. She had missed him. There had been so much for her to attend to, so many distractions lately. He wasn’t mad though, which made a change, as he bumped his head gently into hers.

  ‘Are you sure that Eadmund won’t mind?’ Aleksander wondered.

  Jael arched a moody eyebrow in his direction.

  ‘Well, alright then!’ he laughed and threw himself up onto Leada’s back. She was a large horse, much larger than Sky; pure white, agreeable. ‘I’m looking forward to taking a good look around this place before I leave. There must be some reason you like it here so much. And besides, I don’t imagine I’ll be back again.’

  Jael hoisted herself up into the saddle. She leaned forward to pat Tig’s sleek black coat, gathering the reins into her lap. Something had shifted when she’d dispatched Fyn and Thorgils in the Pit
; she’d started to remember who she was. And this ride would surely help blow away any remaining cobwebs before their departure. ‘Well, who knows what will happen? Perhaps only the gods? Or the dreamers? But certainly not us!’ She smiled at Aleksander and nudged Tig ahead of him. ‘I’m supposed to be on the beach, but I have a feeling that no one would really welcome me down there anyway. We can check on things before nightfall, ready for tomorrow.’

  Aleksander tapped his heels lightly into Leada’s flanks, clicking his tongue, and she walked slowly after Tig. It had been an odd, strange time, confusing and heartbreaking, but he couldn’t imagine having to say goodbye to Jael. Not again.

  They walked the horses down the muddy street that led to the square, straight past Eadmund and Evaine, who emerged from the hall as they passed.

  Eadmund sucked in his breath to see Aleksander on his horse, going riding with his wife. He frowned, barely noticing that Evaine had gripped hold of his arm.

  Jael noticed Evaine gripping hold of Eadmund’s arm, a satisfied smile on her perfectly-formed face. She turned her gaze toward the gates. You smug little bitch, she thought, clenching her jaw.

  You will not defeat me.

  11

  Meena didn’t know why she felt compelled to look.

  Jaeger had left. Perhaps never to return? No, he would, she was certain. But, even so, what was she trying to achieve, sneaking about, risking the wrath of her grandmother?

  Meena shivered as she pictured his face. It was a face she tried to imagine when she lay in bed at night. Her grandmother hated him – the Bear, she called him – but Meena? Meena was fascinated by Jaeger Dragos. Terrified and fascinated all at the same time; filled to overflowing with confusing feelings that awakened her body in ways that were new and unsettling.

  She was determined to do whatever she could to help him. To surprise him on his return.

  ‘And?’ Varna’s voice boomed around the walls of her chamber.

  Meena jumped, her heart stopping instantly.

  ‘And?’ Varna asked again as she crept towards her now cowering, granddaughter. ‘If you help him... what then? Will he care, do you think? Love you even?’ She laughed, reaching for Meena’s arm, grabbing it between her bony, gnarled fingers, her long yellow nails digging into Meena’s skin. ‘Love you? Ha! You foolish girl!’

  Meena couldn’t move. Doing so would only make it worse, she knew.

  ‘And what is it in my books that intrigues him so? Is he looking for magic to destroy his father? Is that what he will resort to now? With you as his willing helper? His new assistant...’

  Meena started tapping her foot anxiously. It was the least she wanted to do. Her whole body was screaming at her to move, to do something to feel safe again. She fought fiercely against the desire to simply run away.

  Varna didn’t notice. ‘Tell me, girl! Tell me what he wants with my books. What are you looking for?’

  Meena shivered. ‘It was, it was n-nothing. He didn’t ask me. I just... I... I just... thought I could help him.’

  ‘Help him?’ Varna snarled, gripping Meena’s arm tighter, her rotting teeth grinding together. ‘What is he looking for?’

  Meena’s lips contorted, opening and closing. Confused. She didn’t want to betray Jaeger, but her loyalty had always been solely claimed by her grandmother. Until now. She blinked rapidly, unable to control her eyelids. ‘Nothing. Nothing. Nothing,’ she repeated. ‘Nothing, Grandmother, I promise. Nothing.’

  Varna frowned, disturbed by the power Jaeger had already exerted over her weak little Meena. She had seen him in her dreams, twisting Meena into a shaking mess, so she was surprised to see how loyal her granddaughter was to him. ‘As you say,’ she muttered. Meena was a foolish girl, with little sense between her ears.

  It would not be hard to find out what she was up to.

  Edela was tired, he could tell, but he was the king; the king who was leaving in the morning. He had been as patient as he could, but he couldn’t put it off any longer. He needed to hear from her. Desperately.

  Eirik leaned forward, holding his hands out to the flames. ‘You are the third dreamer I have tried,’ he began. ‘The oldest, and hopefully, the wisest,’ he smiled tightly. ‘I am hoping that you can tell me how I will die. What you see for my end?’

  Edela took a deep breath. ‘I see some things,’ she croaked, clearing her throat, enjoying the comfort of the furs beneath her back, the warmth of the one over her knee. ‘Not all that you would wish to hear, I’m sure, but yes, I have seen fleeting visions of your death. I don’t know if any of them are truly helpful to you, if, in fact, you wish to prevent it.’

  ‘You don’t think I should try?’

  Edela studied Eirik Skalleson, seeing the desperation in his eyes, the overwhelming desire to know the truth. ‘You will be killed,’ she said plainly. ‘Do not ask me how. But someone will kill you. The gods will not take you gently. You will suffer. I can see that.’

  Eirik could not hold back his shock at the starkness of her words. He shivered, despite the warmth of his bear-fur cloak and the heat from the blazing fire. He had not expected her to know anything. Not really. But there it was.

  He didn’t know what to say.

  ‘But how?’ Edela prompted, studying his distressed face. ‘I do not know. But you will not expect it. I have seen your face as you die.’ She closed her eyes, suddenly weary, grateful for the darkness that greeted her. Inhaling a deep breath, she opened them again, glancing at Eirik. ‘You are surprised?’

  Eirik blinked. ‘Yes, I suppose I am. It is more than I have known before. Not enough, though. Never enough to truly help me, but... something.’

  ‘You must not worry about death,’ Edela tried to assure him. ‘You must think about life. You are old enough to have lived all that you wanted to, surely? To have done those things you could only have dreamed of as a slave child. To have made yourself a king!’ she exclaimed. ‘A king of free men and women. A father and a husband. A free man. That is something. Perhaps enough?’

  Eirik sighed. ‘I might have thought so a few days ago. But now?’ He looked around the empty house. There had been hope in this house over winter, and now it was fading quickly. ‘Jael saved Eadmund. Jael and that tincture of yours,’ he said quietly. ‘And with it my kingdom. But I fear that everything is about to unravel because of that girl and her son.’

  Edela was thoughtful. ‘It very well may,’ she admitted. ‘But often unravelling allows us to start again. It does not necessarily mean an end. It is often the opportunity for a new beginning. If,’ she considered. ‘If we don’t let go of the threads.’

  ‘And if I’m gone?’ Eirik asked sadly. ‘When I’m gone... what will happen to everyone? To Eydis and Eadmund?’

  ‘You must never worry for Eydis,’ Edela insisted. ‘She is loved here, I can tell. She will be protected. Entorp watches over her. Eadmund cares for her. Jael, Biddy. And me. I will be here, too.’

  ‘You will?’

  ‘Yes,’ Edela smiled. ‘I wish to stay here with Jael now. She is going to need me.’

  ‘Is she?’ Eirik looked worried. ‘And Eadmund?’

  Edela stared into the flames, wishing she could hide her face from him, just for a moment. She was never very good at masking her true feelings, much like her granddaughter. ‘Eadmund...’ She swallowed and braved Eirik’s eyes once more. ‘Eadmund is stronger than you think. Stronger than he realises. It might not seem like it sometimes, but I believe you can have faith in Eadmund. I see Eadmund in my dreams. He is a good man.’

  ‘But...’ Eirik’s neck tightened. ‘But, is he strong enough?’

  ‘Yes.’ Edela was so certain that she didn’t hesitate. ‘Yes. He is your son. Do not forget that.’

  Eirik wanted some wine. A lot of wine. He had grown impatient waiting for their departure, but now it was coming too quickly. ‘And the battle with Haaron?’

  Edela dropped her eyes immediately, and he knew.

  ‘The sea-fire will help you,’ Edel
a said, sensing his disappointment. ‘And Jael. She knows Haaron and his sons better than she would wish to.’

  But Eirik didn’t hear her. He was lost in the flames, listening for the sound of the gods as they hurried to claim him, to take him away from all that he loved. Once he would have welcomed it; as a child, when he was nothing; when he was older, and his heart was raw with pain after Eskild had died, and Rada. But now? Now, he needed to stay alive to keep everyone safe. To keep his kingdom whole.

  He wasn’t ready.

  They stopped by Ver’s Waterfall, named for the God of Nature. It had become Jael’s favourite place to ride to since the Thaw. She was mesmerised by the sheer, violent fury of the water as it crashed and pounded against the rocky shelf below.

  ‘This is a surprise!’ Aleksander called over the thunderous noise.

  Jael smiled. The tips of her fingers were completely numb in her gloves, as they had been since her arrival on Oss, but the cold ride had finally cleared her scattered mind, and she felt calmer than she had in days. ‘You should see it when it’s frozen!’

  Aleksander was pleased to see her coming back, talking again. It was a start. He nudged Leada closer to Tig, stroking her smooth white coat.

  ‘Do you have a new horse?’ Jael wondered, turning Tig away from the edge of the falls.

  Aleksander looked momentarily sad, remembering his horse, Ren, who had died just before Jael left Andala. ‘I do. Her name is Sky,’ he said, following Jael as she walked Tig over to a thick patch of white clover.

  ‘Sky?’ Jael mused. ‘A mare?’

  ‘She is,’ he smiled. ‘Sweet and kind, just like you!’

  ‘Ha!’ Jael laughed. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Well, many might not think so, but I do,’ he said seriously. ‘I know you better than anyone.’ His eyes sought hers, and he was pleased to see that hers didn’t run away.

  ‘I’ve missed you,’ Jael said quietly.