by A. E. Rayne
There was no wound in her leg. Not in here.
‘Grandmother?’
‘She is not yours, Jael Furyck! She is mine!’ the voice cried in warning.
It was so loud, deafening, invasive. Jael wanted to put her hands over her ears, but then she heard a trickle of water and saw a stream. ‘Grandmother?’ She ran on, breathless, her legs suddenly heavy now.
There was a raft; wooden planks made into a raft, tied across a stream. Jael blinked harder. She noticed a twisting flame in the distance, certain she could see Edela now.
‘Grandmother!’ Jael jumped into the icy water which quickly numbed her legs, rising over her knees. She felt around, wishing there was more light. Edela was tied to the raft, her arms splayed, her body still, eyes closed.
But she was breathing.
Jael fumbled with the ropes around Edela’s wrists, but she couldn’t find any knots. No way to undo them at all. She growled, frustrated, wading towards the poles the ropes were tied to. Jael felt around. No knots there either.
She reached for Toothpick and could hear the sharp intake of breath as the voice hissed, trembling around her. Jael slashed through the ropes, and they fell away. She sheathed Toothpick and scooped Edela into her arms, walking carefully back to the rocks. Laying her limp body on the cave floor, Jael leaned over, feeling the coolness of Edela’s cheek against hers. ‘Grandmother?’ she whispered in her ear. ‘I’ve come to take you home. Back to me. Back to all of us. We’re there, on Oss, waiting for you.’ She paused, taking a deep breath. The air was so thick and heavy. Her chest heaved, her lungs working hard. ‘Grandmother,’ she breathed. ‘You have to come back. You can’t leave me. Not yet. Not when you’re supposed to save me. Remember? You must come back. You must save me!’ Jael sat back on her heels, suddenly dizzy, feeling as though she was slipping away.
‘Hahaha!’ the voice crowed. ‘You may have your sword, Furia’s daughter, but what else do you have that you need to defeat me? Your husband? Your grandmother? There is more you need... so much you don’t know!’
Jael stilled, searching the darkness for the source of that grating voice but there was nothing to see.
No one was there.
‘Your husband is lost to you now. Forever! And Edela? The one who is supposed to save you? I don’t need to tell you how that will go,’ she laughed.
Jael gripped Edela’s hand and leaned forward to whisper in her ear again.
‘She is mine now! You cannot claim her! She is mine!’ the voice cried, angrier, harder, more threatening now as it slithered around Jael’s body like a venomous snake.
Jael tried to ignore it, tried to shut it out of her head as she focused on Edela. Reaching into her pouch, Jael pulled out a stone – the one Edela had given her before she left for Saala. She pressed it into Edela’s palm, rolling her fingers closed over it, feeling herself slipping further away. Leaning down quickly, she lay her head on Edela’s chest, desperate to cling on. ‘Don’t give up, Grandmother! You’re the strongest person I know. And I need you! Without you, what hope do we have? Come back to me, please!’
Jael gritted her teeth, feeling Edela slip away from her. She trembled with the effort of holding the trance; the tiny flames fading as darkness enclosed her.
And as everything spun, and Edela slid away, Jael thought she heard a voice. ‘Grandmother?’ She listened, trying to hold on. And then she heard it, the faintest whisper. But she knew that voice.
It was Edela’s.
‘Tuura.’
4
King Osbert of Brekka closed his eyes, wishing that sleep would come, but as weary as he felt from two days of trekking over the steep mountains of Hest, his body would not unwind. He had barely slept since his father’s death.
Since that night.
He shuddered, remembering the stench of the chamber, the mess of Lothar’s headless body, the humiliation he had endured as the Brekkan army ignored his orders, refusing to attack Jael and her Islanders.
His army, who, for a time, refused to follow him at all.
Yet, here he was, King of Brekka at last. But his sister had escaped too, and now they would all plot to remove him. All of them. Perhaps even Haaron and his sons? Osbert was relieved that they had been too distracted by the chaos in their own kingdom to think about taking his head as well.
For now.
He glanced around his tent, certain that he’d heard a noise. Paranoid.
Loyalty was not something that could be beaten into a person, he knew. Not unless they were a slave. He shook his head.
Not even then.
And those men out there, sleeping in the dirt? Those men had all appeared loyal to his father. They had chosen Lothar over Axl three years ago. But now? His father had been a foolish, vain king, driven by greed to make reckless decisions that had ultimately led to his death. Osbert sighed, troubled with the doubts that whirled around his head; weighed down by them, desperate for some respite from them.
He needed to get home, back to Andala. He had to prepare for what would come next. Unless Jael and Axl were already there? Unless they were waiting for him in Saala?
Jael couldn’t stop coughing. The smoke was still tickling her throat after three cups of water. She left Biddy to air out the house and headed to the stables to check on Tig and Leada.
Aleksander followed her. ‘You’re sure it was Edela’s voice?’ he asked once they were inside.
Jael nodded, trying to swallow. She ran her hand down Tig’s face, comforted by the familiar feel of him; enjoying the warmth of his breath as he snorted and blew at her. He was grumpy, she could tell, but pleased to see her as well. Night had fallen, and she was ready to sleep, but just as eager to ride into the wind and let it blow the smoke from her muddled mind.
Aleksander frowned. ‘They sent her here to save you. Everything Edela learned about that prophecy, which wasn’t much, came from Tuura.’
Jael turned around, narrowing her eyes. ‘Do you think they knew what would happen to her? That the elders wanted her out of the way? Convinced her that she was coming here to save me when they knew she would only be putting herself in danger?’
Aleksander thought of Tuura, shivering as the wind wailed through the stable doors, spooking both Tig and Leada who shuffled about uneasily. He hadn’t trusted anyone there. And the whispers about Marcus, the elderman, had painted him as a shadowy character.
Edela had not trusted him at all.
‘I don’t know. I don’t know whose side they’re on. What happened in Tuura all those years ago...’ He stopped, not wanting to think about what had happened in Tuura all those years ago. ‘Someone wants you dead. More than someone. But who? Maybe them. Maybe just Evaine and her mother.’
Jael stepped away from Tig. Her head felt clear enough to go back inside now, and she was eager to check on Edela. ‘So, is she telling us to go to Tuura or that Tuura is the reason this happened?’
Aleksander shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but I think that after what you just managed to do, you really are a dreamer now, so perhaps you need to dream on it?’ He smiled crookedly, suddenly overcome with tiredness, wondering how long it had been since he had slept in more than snatches.
Jael was surprised to realise that he was right. But a real dreamer knew how to bring dreams to her. And despite all the years of watching and listening to Edela as she tried to encourage her gift, Jael had absolutely no idea how to do that at all.
Nicolene had grown bored of caring for Karsten and his injuries.
The wound in his side had bled so much at first that they had wondered if he would, in fact, die. But there was no way that Karsten was about to let Jael Furyck end him. So, he had rallied quickly and had spent the past few days in a foul mood, moaning, groaning, and demanding to be let out of bed.
Nicolene had decided that even Haaron and Bayla would make better company than her irritating husband, so she had spent most of her time in the hall, as far away from him as possible.
‘Sitha seems to thi
nk that Karsten should be up and about tomorrow,’ Bayla said happily, swallowing a honey-glazed baby turnip.
Nicolene ignored her mother-in-law as she watched Jaeger pick through his meal, distractedly pushing a sausage around with his knife. ‘Not hungry, Jaeger?’ she asked softly, nudging her knee into his. ‘No appetite tonight?’
Jaeger didn’t even look up. He was thinking of Berard. Of Meena. Of the book and Morana. But mostly then, of Meena.
Why had Berard sought to claim her?
What did he want her for?
Bayla quickly became annoyed that no one was listening to her. She turned to Haaron, who had cheered somewhat since his talk with Morana. There was comfort to be found in having a dreamer in the castle. And he was relieved to have someone who could help him decide what to do about Jaeger.
‘Have you seen Berard today?’ Bayla wondered, trying a new subject. ‘Is he still skulking about, avoiding everyone?’ She glanced over at Jaeger, who, irritated by the mention of his brother’s name, finally looked up.
‘Berard?’ he sighed. ‘Berard is busy organising his new servant.’
Haegen looked at Irenna, bemused. ‘A servant? Berard?’ he smiled. ‘Well, perhaps he realises that having someone to wake him up would be a good thing, especially when we’re under attack!’
‘I think it’s nice that Berard has finally found someone to care for him,’ Irenna said, catching Bayla’s eyes as they glared fiercely at her. ‘I mean, to care for his things.’
Bayla turned back around, not looking any less displeased. ‘How did he find this servant?’ she grumbled. ‘On his own? That doesn’t sound like him at all. He is always so utterly hopeless.’
‘It appears that he has struck up a friendship with Meena Gallas,’ Jaeger muttered through gritted teeth. ‘He has taken her on.’
Haaron was surprised. He had forgotten the girl entirely. ‘I thought she would have stayed with her aunt. Now that Morana is here, why wouldn’t she just carry on as she was, doing whatever she was doing?’
‘Whatever that was,’ Nicolene snorted, trying to meet Jaeger’s eyes, but although he was staring at her, he appeared far away.
‘Well, I suppose it is good for him to have found someone to put his things in order,’ Bayla murmured, sipping from her goblet.
Jaeger felt a burst of rage rushing through his arms and legs, rising up to his chest. He remembered Amma Furyck, his wife, as she lay weeping beneath him. Limp and broken. But despite his fervent desire to reclaim her for his pride, and to rehabilitate his ruined reputation, he couldn’t stop his mind from twisting back to Meena.
Always her.
Jaeger frowned, shaking away his dark mood, suddenly aware of the pressure from Nicolene’s thigh as she leaned it against his. He turned to his pretty sister-in-law, his eyes narrowing into slits. ‘Perhaps I should come with you to visit Karsten after supper? He might enjoy some company.’
Nicolene smiled, happy to have claimed his attention at last. ‘I’m sure he would,’ she breathed.
‘You need to get some sleep,’ Axl insisted gently as Amma tossed and turned. He had been trying to sleep on the floor beside the bed, but her restlessness meant that both of them were still wide awake. ‘It won’t help Edela if we’re too tired to think tomorrow.’ He ran his hand over her salty, brown hair, trying to soothe her. She looked so terrified.
Still.
There had been no time to talk yet. Not alone. Not so that she could tell him what had happened. What Jaeger had done to her.
If she ever would.
Axl was instantly wild, feeling his anger burn like sea-fire across the water. He thought of Lothar, remembering the sound of his head as it hit the flagstones. Axl blinked, unsure what his father would have made of that. Would he have been proud that he had protected his mother? Disappointed at his lack of self-control?
Turning away from the memories of that night, Axl leaned over and kissed Amma’s forehead. ‘Sleep,’ he murmured.
Gisila sat on a stool next to her mother with no intention of sleeping at all. Entorp had gone home, and Biddy was in the kitchen, tirelessly preparing herbs for a tea to encourage her to sleep.
Axl’s head was swimming. The smoke had been intense, suffocating him, undoing his senses. And now he felt confused. Displaced. He didn’t know what to do with himself in this strange, new world, where Edela lay dying, and Osbert was king. And Amma was his again. And his mother was free.
And he was a murderer.
‘Will you stay with me?’ Evaine pleaded as Morac wrapped another cloak around her shoulders. She was soaked through, and the rain was only getting heavier as the wind picked it up and threw it into her face.
Morac cringed under its freezing onslaught, worried for his daughter, but less than keen at the thought of joining her for the night in the mud. ‘Well... I will stay until you fall asleep, yes,’ Morac said diplomatically, already thinking of his warm bed, and Runa, who would hopefully be waiting in it for him.
Evaine saw the truth in his eyes as they tried to avoid hers. ‘She will pay for this you know!’
Morac spun around, but the square was empty. There was not a soul in sight on this foul evening. ‘Of course she will. Morana will see to it.’
‘Why wait?’ Evaine insisted desperately, tugging at the heavy, iron clamp around her ankle. ‘Why wait for Morana?’ She lowered her voice to a whisper, her wide, blue eyes jumping everywhere. ‘You didn’t need her to kill Eirik Skalleson, did you? You didn’t need magic for that!’
Morac put a finger to his thin lips, his eyes panicked as he glanced around, but they were still alone. He sighed, feeling a tightness in his chest, a guilty twinge at the reminder of his crime. For all that he had resented Eirik, he had still been his friend – almost a brother – for most of his life. It was strange to be without him; to know that it was he who had killed him. There were moments when he realised that there was no one left who understood him as Eirik had; no one he could talk to in the same way. There was Morana, Evaine, even Runa, now that she had warmed to him again. But Eirik had been his closest friend since he was a boy. And despite all that had happened – all that he had done – he missed him. ‘Edela Saeveld is dying. And Jael knows that you stabbed her,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘What Eadmund will believe when he returns, I don’t know. Jael is his wife. She is queen here.’ He held up a hand to stop Evaine’s protests. ‘If we kill her, there will be no doubt of your guilt any longer. There will be no sympathy around here, I promise you that.’
Evaine looked horrified, sodden, humiliated. She was numb to her very core, desperate for the warmth of a fire. ‘You would just let her get away with this?’ she seethed, her teeth chattering uncontrollably. ‘What she has d-d-done to me?’
Morac grabbed her hand before she could slam it against his chest. ‘You are the one who did this, Evaine,’ he reminded her firmly, more confident now that she was chained to a post. ‘It was not in our plans to kill the old woman, so you must accept the consequences. For now. Eadmund is not far away. He will save you.’
Evaine bit her numb lip, ready to protest, but he was right. She could feel it. Morana’s new spell had changed everything inside her. It was as though there was a direct connection to Eadmund now.
She could feel him getting closer.
Evaine shut her eyes, trying to ignore the discomfort of the iron clamp, the chill of the rain as it streamed down her back. The shame of it all.
Eadmund was coming home.
Jael lay on the floor beside her grandmother’s bed.
She had not wanted to be away from her. Not even in the next room. She tried to imagine where Eadmund was, hoping that he would return soon but, remembering Evaine, Jael wondered what would happen next. If Evaine was right and Eadmund was bound to her soul, what could they do? How could they undo the spell without Edela’s help?
And then there was Morana, who would be telling Evaine what to do, surely? It was better for everyone that Evaine was restrained, she insisted
to herself, taking a deep breath and rubbing her hand down Vella’s back as she snuffled alongside her.
Closing her eyes, at last, Jael thought about Jaeger Dragos and the Book of Darkness. Did Berard know? He must have, she realised. He had been so defensive of his brother, but hesitant, as though he was holding something back. Perhaps now she knew what.
Jael’s eyes flew open.
Morana Gallas was there, in Hest, within reach of that book.
Meena didn’t know what to do, but Jaeger wasn’t waiting for her to stutter and tap her way to a decision. He barged through the doorway, pushing past her, his giant frame dominating Meena’s slight, shaking one.
‘Better than Varna’s chamber,’ he noted gruffly, staring around the simple, barely furnished room that Berard had found for Meena. There was one tiny window, a few struggling flames in a stone fireplace, a single bed with a fur and pillow. A chair and table. There was even a rug.
Meena blinked, brushing hair out of her eyes, trying not to tap her head. Jaeger reeked of wine, and he looked furious. She shuffled about nervously, her eyes fixed on the door she had just closed, suddenly wishing that she was sleeping in Berard’s chamber. That would have kept Jaeger away.
If that was what she truly wanted.
‘I’m surprised that Berard’s not here, waiting in your bed!’ Jaeger growled as he turned to Meena, gripping her arm, forcing her eyes towards his. ‘That seems to be what he wants.’
Meena tapped her toes, her heart pounding. Jaeger suddenly jerked her towards him, pulling her into his arms.
She squeaked.
‘Is that what you want?’ he glowered.
Meena stumbled, conscious of his breath as it blew warmly all over her, muddling her mind. She didn’t know what to think.
With Jaeger, she never felt safe.
