by A. E. Rayne
Morana was not Varna, and he did not trust her.
‘Perhaps,’ he sighed. ‘But it may all have happened anyway. With four sons, it was inevitable that they would turn on each other eventually. Another reason I thought to send them away. If only...’
‘If only what?’ Bayla edged towards him.
‘Well, I think, perhaps we are keeping the most ambitious of them all, which may, of course, be your intention. I hardly think that you’ll mourn my passing. And you have always seen him as king here, I know.’ Haaron rolled his hands over the arms of his chair, clenching his jaw, not wanting her confirmation of his long-held assumption. ‘But, if Jaeger does claim power here, I don’t imagine that he’ll be content to let his brothers live. He may have to go through them to fulfil his ambition. Two of them, at least.’
Bayla looked indignant on many counts, but more than that, she felt confused. She could not deny that Jaeger had changed. She had always supported him and his claim to the throne, but after what she had witnessed in the training ring, she suddenly feared what his rise would mean for them all.
So much fire.
Eadmund couldn’t catch his breath. The smoke was thick; the screaming and panic so loud that he couldn’t think.
He couldn’t think!
There was nowhere to go. They were in a stone prison.
A prison that was on fire.
He turned to Bram. ‘Get Evaine!’ he cried. ‘Get my son! Please!’ He pointed to Sevrin. ‘More buckets! More water! Hurry!’ But Eadmund could feel the fingers closing around his heart. They were cold and hard.
They were squeezing.
He needed to move, but he didn’t know what he could do.
He couldn’t think!
The banging was getting louder. Like a drum. Thunderous hammering. Urgent, demanding.
‘Eadmund!’
They kept calling for him. Everyone wanted his attention. He was their king. He needed to save them.
‘Eadmund!’
Eadmund turned slowly, confused, searching through the thick plumes of smoke. He knew that voice. ‘Jael?’
Jael’s body tensed as he turned, then relaxed.
Eadmund.
‘You’ve come!’ He looked relieved, rushing towards her, his arms outstretched. ‘There’s no time! We have to go! Quick. I need to get my son, make sure he’s safe! Where’s Axl? Where are your men?’ He looked around, searching through the flames, the smoke.
‘Eadmund.’ Jael reached for his hands, trying to calm his panic. ‘Eadmund, it’s a dream. I came to speak to you in your dream.’
‘But...’ Eadmund spun around, his heart skipping, the smoke choking his throat.
And then nothing.
It was all gone, and they were standing in the cool darkness, and there was snow on the ground, and they were beside Eirik’s pool.
Jael blinked, wistful for the time they had spent there together, but she could already feel the strain of holding the trance. She did not have time to lose focus. ‘Eadmund, I’ll be here as soon as I can. I’ll bring the Brekkan fleet. Look at me, Eadmund. I know you’re in trouble. I know about Ivaar, but you have to hold him out. And wait. I will come.’
Those eyes.
The moonlight reflected off the dark water, and he could see those eyes so clearly. He stepped forward. ‘Is Edela alive?’
Jael opened her mouth, conscious of the loud humming in her ears. Her hold on the dream was fading. There was little time left, she knew. ‘Take this.’ She reached out and placed a stone in his hand. ‘Remember this symbol. Promise me. Promise me. Don’t tell Evaine. Go to Ayla when you wake up. Tell her that this symbol will keep out the dreamers. It will keep out Morana. Have her make one for you. For her. For Thorgils too. Keep the stones with you.’
Eadmund closed his hand into a fist. ‘I will.’
‘I have to go,’ Jael said quickly. She wanted to touch him, but he wasn’t hers. She could feel it still. ‘Don’t forget the symbol. And don’t forget that I will come. Soon.’
‘Jael.’ He touched her hair. No braids for a change. Long and flowing, dark waves of hair, shining in the moonlight, hanging over her well-worn, blue tunic. ‘Stay safe.’
She nodded, not wanting to go. ‘You too. And whatever you do, don’t tell Evaine about this dream. Trust me. Don’t tell Evaine, please.’ Jael closed her eyes and felt herself falling backwards. ‘Please,’ she murmured, her words lost amongst the hum as Eadmund faded into the night and Oss slipped from her grasp.
VI
The Plan
37
‘Eadmund?’ Evaine reached out, sleepy-eyed and confused. ‘What are you doing?’
Eadmund had lurched out of bed, panting as though he’d been running. He could feel sweat trickling down his temples. Pressing his feet onto the floorboards, he looked down at his hand, still curled into a fist, remembering the dream.
He glanced around for his tunic and trousers, trying to keep his eyes open. He had to go. He needed to find Ayla.
‘Eadmund?’ Evaine crawled towards him, shivering. ‘Where are you going? It’s still dark. Come back to bed. I’m cold.’
Eadmund wasn’t listening. He opened his fingers, but there was no stone. ‘I have to go,’ he mumbled, sitting down to pull on his trousers. ‘There’s a lot to do.’
‘In the dark?’ Evaine grumbled. ‘Eadmund...’ She crept up behind him, pressing her body against his, seeking his warmth. ‘It’s not even dawn. Surely you don’t have to go just yet?’
Eadmund was caught, listening to Jael’s voice urging him to hurry to Ayla before he forgot the symbol. And then, just as quickly, not caught at all as he felt Evaine’s breasts on his back, and her lips on his neck.
He turned to her and smiled.
It was too early to do much, but Jael couldn’t sleep. The smoke had wound itself around her thoughts all night, and her dreams had been multi-coloured and strange, filled with confusing visions.
Seeing Eadmund had left her sad, and she was eager to ride away from the fort, despite the foul weather. But she didn’t dare go near Tig now. And she knew that she would not have been let through the gates if she had tried. So, she walked down the main street instead, hoping that Eadmund remembered the dream.
Hoping that he remembered the symbol.
But most of all, she hoped that she was right. If she couldn’t get everyone out of Tuura alive, then Oss was in danger of being overthrown. And that would mean death for Eadmund and Thorgils, she knew.
Jael stopped, frowning. The sun was struggling to rise, but the dull, grey light was enough for her to recognise where she was, and squinting into the distance she spied Alaric’s door.
Smiling to herself, she changed course and headed down the alley.
‘Where were you going before?’ Evaine yawned contentedly, twisting her fingers in Eadmund’s chest hair. She liked sleeping. A lot. And with Tanja looking after Sigmund now, she was able to catch up on all the sleep she’d lost when he was born.
‘I wanted to get up on the ramparts. Take a look around.’
‘In the dark?’ Evaine murmured. ‘But what would you have seen?’
Eadmund stroked her hair. She had just washed it, he could tell. It smelled faintly of peppermint. ‘You’d be surprised what you can see with a bit of starlight,’ he whispered, watching as her eyes closed, feeling her chest moving steadily against his.
Evaine didn’t reply and Eadmund eased her away from him, leaning her gently against the pillow. She mumbled at him but didn’t attempt to open her eyes again, so he slipped out of bed, pulling on his trousers.
He needed to see Ayla.
It had taken Jael a while to rouse Alaric, and when he creaked open his door, he looked half dead.
‘Has something happened?’ he panicked, glancing behind Jael.
‘No,’ she said, pushing past him. ‘I just need to talk to you.’
Alaric locked the door behind her and yawned, wanting to splash his face with some water. He was not us
ed to being awake so early and could barely see straight.
Jael studied his cottage. It wasn’t the best place to be talking, but it was early. Hopefully, they would have time before anyone with a mind to eavesdrop was out on the street, eavesdropping. ‘You know the temple,’ she whispered. ‘And I need to know how to break into it.’
Alaric’s eyes were as wide as plates. ‘Break into it?’ he breathed, his mouth opening and closing like a panicked fish. ‘Break into it? Oh.’ He stumbled down onto his bed. ‘But there are not enough of you. To fight against all of them?’ He shook his head, shuddering.
‘Alaric,’ Jael said calmly, watching her breath smoke out before her as she took the stool opposite him. ‘If you want Tuura to be free, if we are going to escape, then we have no choice. The Followers are in the temple. We have to get in there and stop them, or they will kill all of us. And soon.’
Alaric thought of Edela. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. ‘There is a door you could try,’ he sighed. ‘The door to the kitchen. From there you can get into the temple. But they will surely see you coming!’
‘Perhaps,’ Jael mused. ‘I just needed to know what was possible before I came up with a plan. A door to the kitchen will help,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’ And standing up, she headed for the door. Turning around, Jael looked at the cold fire pit and the meagre supplies on Alaric’s solitary shelf. ‘Why not grab your cloak and come with me? I’m sure you could do with a hot breakfast?’
Alaric’s rheumy eyes brightened at the thought of that. ‘Well, perhaps I shall just check on Edela,’ he said eagerly. ‘See how she’s faring?’
Jael smiled. ‘Come on then, before the rain comes down.’
Alaric scrambled to find his cloak, listening to the happy rumble in his empty belly.
Ayla and Eadmund hurried away from the hall, turning down the alley towards his old cottage. Eadmund had not wanted to talk inside, where he knew that a sleeping Evaine was only just through the wall. He wondered how he could be so disloyal. But he knew that he could trust Jael.
Jael was trying to protect Oss.
They had arrived at his cottage without Eadmund uttering a word. Ayla was puzzled but did not question what was happening. Eadmund didn’t want to light a fire, but they needed to see, so he pulled out his tinderbox and sparked the lamp alight.
Ayla sat on the bed, waiting patiently, and finally, he brought the flaming lamp towards her, placing it in her hands. He took the leather satchel from his shoulder and laid it on the floorboards, pulling out a folded piece of vellum, a quill, and a jar of ink. Bending down, Eadmund uncorked the jar, dipped his quill into the ink and began to draw. He could see the symbol in his mind. It reminded him of a symbol he had once seen on a shield.
It was easy to remember and did not take him long to finish.
‘I’ve had a dream,’ Eadmund said softly, handing the vellum to her, keeping hold of one end. ‘Jael came to me last night, with this. She said that the dreamers can’t see past it. That we need one each. On a stone. To carry with us. Thorgils too.’
Ayla frowned. She didn’t recognise the symbol, but it looked Tuuran. ‘I can do that,’ she said slowly. ‘That must be how they are locking me out. But it makes you wonder why, don’t you think? Why do we need to be afraid of dreamers?’
Eadmund did not want to stay long. ‘I don’t know. She did mention Morana.’
Ayla shook her head. ‘Who’s that?’
‘An evil woman. A dreamer. A witch. She hated my father. I think she killed my mother. She is...’ he ducked his head, feeling a tightness in his chest. ‘She is Evaine’s real mother.’
‘Oh.’
Eadmund didn’t look up. He felt uncomfortable, disloyal for being in the cottage with Ayla. ‘But Evaine never knew her,’ he insisted. ‘Not while she was growing up. She didn’t know that Morana was her mother.’
His desperation to defend Evaine worried Ayla. Isaura had told her that Evaine had bound Eadmund to her soul. It was a strange thing that she had never heard of before. But it was apparent that he was hopelessly tethered to the girl.
Ayla had seen him over the winter, and his love for Jael Furyck had been obvious. She had felt it. But this? With Evaine? She smiled kindly. ‘I’ll make the symbol stones for us. We cannot speak about it again, though, not until we have them,’ she warned. ‘Jael is telling you this for a reason. Something is wrong in Tuura.’
Eadmund nodded.
‘And, I think, if I may say,’ Ayla said gently. ‘It’s best if you keep the stone a secret from Evaine. Morana will have a strong connection to her, whether Evaine knows it or not. For Evaine’s own good, and your son’s, it’s best if this remains between us.’
‘Agreed.’ Eadmund stood, glancing at the light filtering from under the door. The sun was definitely up now. ‘We should go.’
Ayla blew out the lamp and put it to one side, then folded up the vellum and slipped it into her purse. ‘Is that the only reason Jael came to you? The only thing she said?’ she wondered, suddenly desperate.
‘No.’ Eadmund helped Ayla to her feet. ‘No, she told me that she was coming,’ he smiled, feeling a ray of hope. ‘Jael is coming.’
Morana creaked out of bed with speed, grimacing and grinning at the same time. She padded across the chamber to Meena’s old bed where she had laid out her mother’s books the night before.
She’d had a dream.
An idea about what that troublesome phrase meant.
Impatiently sweeping her hair away from her eyes, she hunched over, fingering through the crackling pages of the smallest of Varna’s books, squinting in the faint morning light that seeped through the window above her.
And then, finally, there it was.
The answer she had been waiting for.
Morana screeched in pleasure, skipping around the fire, head back, mouth open; the relief a welcome balm for her tattered confidence.
She couldn’t wait to tell Yorik.
No one was speaking at breakfast.
Jaeger’s lips were fat, cut where Karsten had punched him. Haegen’s jaw was bruised and swollen where Jaeger had hit him. Berard sat hunched over his porridge, upset about it all; wanting to make things right, but at the same time, doubting that it was even possible anymore.
‘And how is your packing going?’ Bayla asked Nicolene, eager to break the uncomfortable silence.
Nicolene didn’t look up. She had spent most of the night arguing with Karsten; furious that he had hit Jaeger; insisting that he had no reason to be jealous. It was an argument that she had fought hard to win, but she wondered why she had bothered. She much preferred the company of the youngest Dragos to his bitter older brother. ‘Fine. It’s going fine,’ she snapped, inviting no further questions.
Bayla felt mournful, thinking of her grandchildren, who, she was surprised to realise, she would miss. Although, having her sons so far away meant that she could spend much of her time travelling, and little time at all with Haaron. She eyed him with a scowl as he sat there noisily slurping his porridge, looking like a tiny, old man.
Not a king. Not the man she had married.
Not the man who could put their family back together.
Or their kingdom.
‘Well, that’s good to hear. It will be nice for us to enjoy the feast tomorrow night and not have to worry about getting up too early.’
Berard squirmed, wishing that his mother wasn’t determined to throw a lavish farewell feast for them. He doubted that anyone would have anything to say to each other by then. He glanced at Jaeger, worried about what he might have done to Meena.
Had he hurt her?
Killed her?
‘Berard,’ his father said, interrupting his morbid thoughts. ‘I want you to come with me after breakfast. We must choose some weapons for you to take. You’re going to have to manage yourself on the road. You’ll be responsible for the men you’re taking. You’ll need to know how to lead them. How to protect them.’
Berard
gulped, not convinced that there was any point to him having weapons at all. He nodded mutely, smiling at the slave who reached for his bowl, his mind running quickly back to Meena.
He needed to know that she was alright.
Gerod was growing impatient.
He paced the grand chamber, striding across its wide flagstones, past the stone columns that reached high up to the cavernous ceiling, walking around the three long fires blazing down the centre of the temple, towards the towering doors.
And back again.
The shadow moon was almost upon them now, and yet the dreamers had reported nothing from Hest. Nothing to tell him what to do with Jael Furyck and her men. Nothing to confirm that the ritual was going ahead as Morana had suggested.
Nothing about their plans for Marcus.
Gerod stopped before the Fire of Light, losing himself in its mesmerising flames; imagining that day, centuries before, when Raemus’ dragon, Thrula, had brought it to life with one powerful breath.
And it had burned ever since.
That is what The Following believed, just as they believed that Raemus had never truly died. That he waited in the Dolma for them to bring him back.
But when?
And in the meantime, he had the woman who could stop it all, here, within reach. Although, she was without her sword now. And the book. Gerod smiled, imagining how much that would be irritating the smug bitch. But even without the sword and the book, he sensed that she was going to cause trouble. He clenched his jaw and turned away from the flames.
He would go to the Chamber of Dreams. Seek out the dreamers. They were working hard, day and night, he knew, but their visions had been mostly irrelevant. They had nothing to tell him about Jael Furyck.
It was as though she was invisible.
38
