by A. E. Rayne
‘Sounds like Gerod Gott,’ Kormac murmured. ‘He’s a senior elderman. Always wanted to be the elderman from what I hear.’
‘Mmmm, well maybe now he is,’ Jael rasped, holding her hands to the flames. ‘There was no sign of Marcus anywhere.’
‘But, but that soldier...’ Fyn spluttered as he sat down and removed his muddy boot, looking for the stone that had been rolling around under his foot all morning. ‘He tried to kill you! He wasn’t interested in anything but killing you!’
He wasn’t wrong, Jael thought to herself. She had felt that too; seen it in his eyes. But why?
‘Here,’ Biddy said gently, handing her the cup of warm chamomile tea she had been drinking. ‘This might help.’
‘Yes, thank you.’ And sitting down, at last, Jael took a sip, appreciating the warm liquid as it eased her raw throat. ‘No!’ she grumbled as Entorp approached her eye again. ‘If you bring that salve near me, I will hit you, Entorp Bray!’
Biddy smiled as she watched Entorp creep away. ‘But you really should let him if you want to see out of that eye again quickly. The way things are going around here, you might need to.’
‘Jael.’
Jael turned to the bed where Edela lay, her eyes fluttering open. She handed Biddy her cup and hurried to her grandmother’s side, pleased to see a hint of life in Edela’s face. They had started feeding her. Not much, just little spoonfuls every now and then. Liquids too. Healing herbs. There was almost colour in her cheeks, but she was still so weak.
Edela frowned, blinking rapidly at the sight of Jael’s face. ‘What were you doing?’
‘It was just a fight, Grandmother, nothing more than I’ve done countless times.’ She shook her head. ‘I just wasn’t myself. Wasn’t thinking clearly enough. It’s my own fault.’
‘But what about the...’ Edela whispered faintly, trying to catch her breath.
Jael leaned forward, placing her ear close to Edela’s lips. ‘The what?’
Edela sighed heavily, closing her eyes again. Exhausted. ‘Baby.’
‘Eadmund, what is wrong with you today?’ Evaine glanced towards her father, raising her eyebrows in irritation. Eadmund was so distracted, not listening to anything they were saying to him. ‘Didn’t you hear my father?’
Eadmund rubbed his eyes and turned to Morac who waited before him. ‘I’m sorry, no, I didn’t. What were you saying, Morac?’
‘The pyre is ready, my lord,’ Morac muttered. He had despised Odda Svanter, as had most, and he felt no desire to provide her with anything for her departure to the Otherworld. But, he knew that his king would think otherwise, so he had made every effort to ensure that her pyre was of a fairly high standard.
‘Good,’ Eadmund sighed, not looking forward to it at all. ‘I’ll go and find Thorgils. See if he’s ready to begin. We don’t want the next storm to come halfway through the burn.’ He turned his head, listening to the sudden, raucous crying from behind the curtain.
Evaine didn’t even blink.
‘Should you go and check on Sigmund?’ Eadmund wondered.
Evaine fiddled with her amber brooch, thinking how plain her jewellery looked; how ordinary her dresses appeared. If she was going to be queen here, she needed to start looking like one. ‘Why?’ she asked blankly. ‘Tanja is back there with Runa. They don’t need me as well!’ She laughed and smiled at her father who did not smile back.
Thorgils opened the door for Isaura, who walked into the hall with her son in her arms. Eadmund was happy to see them together again, for, although Thorgils had just lost his mother, he had gained a new family.
Eadmund knew the pain of losing a parent. He kept hearing Eirik’s voice, barking at him. He could almost see his father rolling his eyes as he tugged impatiently on his beard, displeased with every decision he made.
But most of all, he kept imagining his father’s fury at the absence of Jael. Eirik had chosen Jael to be Queen of Oss, not because she had married Eadmund, but because she had earned it. He had believed in her; believed that she would look after his kingdom and his son.
And now she was gone, and Eadmund knew that it was all his fault.
Jael glanced around, but no one was looking her way.
She turned back to Edela who appeared to be sleeping again, checking under her pillow. She had placed one of Hanna’s stones beneath it, not wanting anyone to invade Edela’s dreams.
It was still there.
‘Jael?’ Entorp murmured as he approached with another jar. ‘I have something else that might help your eye. It smells good, I think.’
‘How many of these jars do you have, Entorp?’ Jael wondered, frowning apprehensively as he uncorked it, but the smell was subtle, floral even, and her stomach did not protest. ‘Well, alright then,’ she said, sitting forward, her body throbbing where Baccus had choked her throat, crushed her chest, punched her in the eye.
She felt uncomfortable all over, but none of the wounds bothered her as much as the one she felt to her pride.
‘What were you thinking, getting into a fight with a soldier?’ Biddy grumbled.
‘He offered to fight Jael,’ Fyn said, rushing to her defense; feeling guilty that he hadn’t been able to help her earlier. ‘It was only supposed to be a training match. He tried to strangle her to death!’
Branwyn gasped as she stood in the doorway. ‘Jael! Are you alright?’ She rushed inside, Gisila and Eydis right behind her.
Gisila took one look at her daughter’s face and put her hands over her mouth.
‘Jael?’ Eydis was frantic, not knowing what was happening. She had been upset while they were gone; on edge, desperate to get back to the house.
She had a growing sense of unease and was desperate to speak to Jael alone.
Jael reached for Eydis’ hand, shooing away Entorp who had surely slathered her in enough of his salve for now. ‘I’m fine, Eydis. Just a black eye, which is my own fault for being too slow-witted to see what was coming.’ She smiled and squeezed Eydis’ hand, guiding her down to the bed. ‘I’ve looked a lot worse, just ask Biddy!’
Biddy nodded, glancing at Gisila who was sucking in her cheeks.
‘Why don’t you go and have some of Biddy’s tea, Mother?’ Jael suggested. ‘It might calm you down.’
‘Yes, that sounds like a good idea,’ Branwyn agreed, peering at Jael’s eye. ‘That looks painful.’
‘It doesn’t hurt,’ Jael lied, distracted by the overwhelming sense of unease coursing through her body. She needed some help.
She needed to speak to Eydis and Fyn.
‘What were you thinking?’ Gerod seethed, rounding on the dreamer. She was a young woman, new to the Chamber of Dreams. It was a great honour to be accepted into the chamber. Not all dreamers rose to such high status within the temple. But those who did were required to dream for the elderman. They were given orders to focus their dreams on whichever subject the elderman requested.
The dreamers who resided in the chamber now were those who had been taught dark magic, passed down through generations of The Following. They knew how to manipulate events and people, as though they were pulling on invisible strings; strands so delicate that only the dreamer could see them.
They had marked out their enemies, binding those who caused trouble or chose to go against The Following. And once bound, they could always find ways to control those people for their own ends.
‘You cannot just kill her!’ Gerod yelled. ‘Without my authority? Without my explicit order? What were you thinking?’ he demanded furiously. They needed that book. And he was beginning to realise that Jael Furyck might be the only one who knew where it was.
The dreamer blinked slowly, her eyes glazed over, still lost in the trance she had gone into when she was controlling Baccus. She dropped her head to her chest, avoiding his wild eyes, certain that she should feel embarrassed.
‘Find me that book!’ Gerod growled, looking around the chamber. It was a wide, almost-round room on the very top floor of the temple; an ad
dition built many years ago, exclusively for dreamers. A bare, cold chamber, it had enormous smoke holes in the roof to expel the smoke from their dream walking fires.
Of which there were many.
‘Find me that book and then we will kill her! Then we will kill them all!’
27
It was not much, Thorgils thought, embarrassed on behalf of his mother for the meagre offerings he had scattered around her wrapped body. He wasn’t sure why he felt that way. Odda certainly wouldn’t have cared what anyone thought.
Stepping back, he smiled sadly, wiping his nose on the back of his hand.
‘It looks fine,’ Isaura assured him softly, slipping her arm through his.
Thorgils shrugged, unconvinced. ‘Well, I’m sure they’ll be able to hear her grumbling in the Otherworld soon.’
Isaura didn’t think he was wrong.
The pyre did look fine. Perfectly fine for a woman like Odda Svanter, who had left her life with as much as she had come into it; whose one achievement had been the tall, red-headed man who stood sadly before her shrouded body, torch in hand, having just set fire to the tower of wood carefully stacked beneath her.
Thorgils’ chest heaved as he sobbed, ducking his head, his tears dripping onto the muddy ground.
Torstan came forward and took the flaming torch from his hand, patting Thorgils on the back before turning to Eadmund, who was far away, remembering his father’s pyre; smelling the smoke already snaking up to the clouds, blown about on a steady wind.
His father’s pyre and now Odda’s.
And then whose?
How many more would they need to build when Ivaar came?
Jael felt a sense of peace as she sat down in the wooden house. If only Sea Bear were full and they were about to depart for Oss.
‘What do you mean trapped?’ Fyn asked anxiously.
They were each holding one of Hanna’s stones.
No one else was on board.
Jael kept looking through the holes in the wall, wanting to ensure it remained that way.
‘The elderman told me that The Following has taken over Tuura.’
Fyn looked confused.
‘They are dangerous,’ Eydis shivered. ‘So dangerous.’
Jael was surprised. ‘You know this? How?’
‘I’ve seen them in my dreams, in hooded black robes. They want to kill you. I feel it so strongly.’
‘Yes, I think you’re right, Eydis. But not just me. Everyone. Everyone in Osterland. All of us. And now that the Book of Darkness is in Hest with Morana, they have a chance of doing it. Look at those ravens,’ she breathed. ‘How else did that happen if not for Morana and that evil book? And that guard today? He looked as though he wasn’t even there. There was something wrong with him.’
‘What do you mean?’ Fyn wondered.
‘Hanna said that the soldiers were bound by the dreamers. Just like Eadmund, I suppose.’
‘But Evaine was not controlling Eadmund, was she?’ Eydis suggested. ‘Just forcing him to love her?’
Jael saw a vision of Evaine sitting on Eadmund’s knee. Sparks of anger and pain burst inside her heart. ‘Yes, but maybe being bound opens you up to more than we realised. Perhaps once you’re bound, they can control you?’
‘At least we have our tattoos,’ Fyn said, relieved that his mother had taken him to Entorp before they had left.
‘But not everyone does. And tattoos won’t save us from ravens or whatever it is that Morana is planning next.’
‘What should we do?’ Fyn asked, rubbing his fingers across the smooth stone. ‘What can we do?’
It was a good question.
‘I can’t get that book again. It’s too much of a risk, but perhaps you can dream about it, Eydis? Look for answers. If that book counters dark magic, there must be a way to unbind the soldiers or anyone who isn’t in The Following willingly.’
‘We have to set them free,’ Eydis whispered, shivering. ‘They will not let us leave here until we do.’
Berard had his head down as he walked towards the castle doors, struggling to decide how he felt about everything. The thought of starting a new life away from his family appealed. He could imagine himself as a lord, not cowed by his father or his brothers, but master of his own domain.
He smiled, thinking that perhaps it was just what he needed. To be far away from judgement and scorn. Respected, admired, noticed even, by men and women who would follow him.
But...
His family had always thought him entirely useless. And perhaps there was a reason for that? Why did he think that he stood a chance of being able to achieve anything on his own, away from them? Berard shook his head, his shoulders sinking as he approached the doors.
‘Berard!’ Haegen grumbled, turning back to his brother. ‘Come on! It will be supper before we even get to the training ground!’
‘Ahhh, don’t worry, Brother,’ Karsten laughed, limping beside him. ‘It won’t take us long once we get there. We’ll only need to look at Berard for him to drop his sword and surrender!’
Berard muttered to himself, not wanting to train with his brothers at all. But now that he was going to be out in the kingdom on his own, he would not have them to protect or defend him anymore. He would be the Lord of Solt, responsible for all the men, women, and children in his fort and beyond.
And he wouldn’t be much of a lord if he couldn’t even protect himself.
Lifting his head, Berard scurried after Haegen and Karsten.
‘How is she?’ Jael wondered as she sat by the fire, defrosting her toes. Her head was ringing with the sound of angry ravens, with Marcus’ warning, and with her father’s voice, loudest of all.
You have to do something, he kept urging furiously.
Biddy looked up from spooning thin broth into Edela’s mouth. ‘Eating, which is good,’ she smiled. ‘Better than good. Much better than I ever thought possible.’
Jael felt her shoulders relax as she stroked Vella, who lay curled up on her knee. The puppies had barely left the house since the raven attack.
She didn’t blame them.
Eydis sat on a rug by her feet, Ido over her lap. Fyn had left with Kormac and his sons to collect more iron ore to make weapons. Branwyn and Gisila had gone to buy extra food from Tuura’s small market. With so many mouths to feed and the fear of what might happen next, they were all eager to be as prepared as possible.
Biddy saw that Edela’s eyes had closed, so she wiped her mouth with a cloth and stood up, leaving her to sleep. ‘How about a hot drink, Eydis?’ she asked. ‘It’s not very warm today with that wind out there and all these holes in the walls now! I wouldn’t mind something warm myself.’
Eydis nodded, and Biddy left the bowl in the kitchen and hunted around for three cups. ‘How is that eye feeling?’ she wondered, ripping up handfuls of peppermint leaves and adding them to the bottom of the cups. She used her apron to lift the cauldron of hot water off its hook and took it to the kitchen to pour over the leaves.
‘It’s going to make sleeping interesting tonight,’ Jael grinned, ferreting in her pouch.
‘I’m not sure that any of us are going to be sleeping anyway,’ Biddy shuddered, thinking about those evil birds. She walked back to Jael and Eydis and handed them a cup each. ‘Careful, it’s hot.’
‘Thank you,’ Jael said, taking her cup and slipping a stone into Biddy’s hand.
‘What’s this?’ Biddy asked, frowning.
‘That stone will stop the dreamers watching or hearing you,’ Jael said quickly. ‘Eydis has one. I’ve put one under Edela’s pillow. I have one too. You’ll have to give it back to me when we’ve finished talking. Until we make more, those are all I have.’
‘You think the dreamers are watching us? All the time?’ Biddy was suddenly fearful as she perched on the very edge of a stool, forgetting all about her own cup of tea as she looked the stone over.
‘Yes, so we can only talk if we have a stone and the people we’re talking to have
one as well. We’re trapped here, I’m certain now. The Following has taken over. I think they’re holding Marcus prisoner in the temple. They’ve bound the soldiers and anyone who is a threat to their rule. They must be working with Morana. Why else would those birds have come here? Eydis is going to try and dream about the book Marcus gave me. It’s the only way I can think of to get us out of here. It must have something in it that can break the binding spell.’
Biddy stared at Jael, too stunned to speak.
‘It does,’ came a faint whisper from the bed.
Karsten’s lips curled back in anger as he lunged for Haegen.
He wasn’t angry at him. It was just Haegen’s unfortunate luck that he looked the most like their youngest brother: almost as large, with the same golden hair, the same almond-shaped eyes.
But he was not Jaeger, and Berard was desperately trying to remind Karsten of that. ‘We should go back to the castle!’ Berard called as Haegen ducked another vicious blow. ‘Think of your wounds!’
Berard was right, and his plea was perfectly timed because Karsten’s knee promptly gave out and he staggered to a stop.
Haegen knocked Karsten over, dropping on top of him, his sword at his brother’s throat. ‘You are in a foul mood today,’ Haegen gasped, rolling away, wiping blood from his mouth. Karsten had been vicious, more intent on attacking him than training. ‘You shouldn’t be so impatient to get your strength back. It will come in time.’
Karsten was too angry to speak as he struggled to his feet, wacking away Berard’s attempt to help him up.
‘Leave him be, Berard!’ Haegen warned. ‘Unless you want a black eye too?’ He felt his face, certain that his left eye was already closing up. ‘Maybe we should just leave Karsten to train with Jaeger? The two of them could try to kill each other while we watch?’ He grinned, but neither Karsten nor Berard looked amused. ‘What?’ Haegen wondered as he walked over to a stone bench and sat; sweat-drenched, sore, bleeding, but happy. He was feeling strong again.
