Night of the Shadow Moon

by A. E. Rayne

  Eadmund’s confidence was growing around his son. He sat back further, letting Sigmund sink into the crook of his arm. He didn’t look especially happy but Eadmund made a few faces and soon Sigmund was making faces back.

  They sat like that for a time, oblivious to everyone else in the hall.

  Bram watched them from a table in the corner, where he sat with Ayla and Bruno. ‘It’s a hard man whose heart can’t be tamed by a wee babe,’ he said wistfully, feeling the great hole in his own heart, big enough to sail a ship through.

  Ayla saw the pain in his eyes. She could feel the grief floating all around him like a hazy cloud. ‘Perhaps there is another chance for you one day?’ she suggested quietly. ‘Another chance for you to have a family?’ She glanced at Bruno, remembering the plans they had made just before Ivaar had taken them both.

  Bram shook his head. ‘At my age? Ha! I think the only women who’d want to share my bed now would be toothless grandmothers!’

  Bruno chuckled softly. He had insisted on being helped out of his sick bed, desperate not to spend any more time away from his wife. ‘Well, some women do like what an older man can offer,’ he said, winking at Ayla. He was some twenty years older than his wife, and as far as he knew, that had never been a problem for her.

  ‘It’s true, Bram,’ Ayla smiled shyly. ‘Older men have more experience. They are kinder. Wiser.’

  ‘Well, I don’t deny that,’ Bram grinned. ‘But they’re also fatter and hairier, creakier, smellier, and far less inclined to do much at all. Set in their ways. Miserable. Deaf!’ He scratched at his bushy, grey beard, smiling as Isaura held the door open for her children who raced inside out of the rain. ‘Which, I suppose, does make it easier to put up with screaming babies!’

  Isaura saw Ayla, and the children spotted Bram, and they all came hurrying over.

  ‘Still raining, I see,’ Bram nodded as Isaura shook her cloak by the fire. ‘Maybe another storm’s rolling in? This place does like to keep you on your toes!’

  ‘Yes, which might keep Ivaar away a little longer, don’t you think?’ Isaura wondered as she took a seat next to Ayla, smiling as Mads toddled straight over to Bram, eager to be lifted onto his knee.

  Ayla glanced at Bruno, who looked as doubtful as she did. ‘We can only hope so. A little bit longer would be helpful, I think,’ she said quietly.

  Nobody heard her, though, as Selene chose that moment to chase Leya too close to the table, knocking the ale jug onto the floor.

  Branwyn and Gisila returned from their visit to Berta with bad news. Her sister had been removed from her employment in the temple kitchen.

  ‘But...’ Branwyn smiled, lifting the flap of her purse. ‘She was so unhappy at being let go that she stole some things from the kitchen, including this key to the door!’ She plonked the large, iron key onto the table and looked around at the beaming faces. ‘They made her leave in such a hurry that she was planning to sneak back in and take her things.’

  ‘What about the bolts?’ Entorp reminded her, frowning.

  No one was beaming then.

  ‘What if we snuck in during the day?’ Jael wondered. ‘Just one of us. If we could hide in the kitchen somewhere, we could undo the bolts after the kitchen staff had gone to bed. Let everyone else in?’

  Fyn avoided Jael’s eyes, hoping that she wouldn’t ask him.

  ‘If there’s somewhere to hide. If you wouldn’t be seen sneaking in. It sounds far too risky to me,’ Biddy said anxiously.

  ‘I agree,’ Gisila muttered. ‘In the daylight as well. You’d be seen!’

  ‘What is Berta’s sister’s name?’ Jael wondered. ‘And can we trust her?’

  Branwyn looked at Gisila, then nodded. ‘Her name is Briga. She seemed angry enough about Gerod and the elders not to be bound in any way. So, likely we could get her to help us. If she snuck in, it wouldn’t be such a surprise to see her there, I suppose. She could say that she was returning the key or looking for something she’d left behind?’

  Jael smiled at Branwyn. ‘That sounds like a plan to me.’

  There wasn’t much to Hud’s Point, and Thorgils and Torstan had quickly gone stir crazy.

  There was a small hall – a very small hall – with one long table running down the middle of the low-roofed, ramshackle building. Four beds. One fire. A handful of stools and nothing to do but sit and wait and listen as the weather battered the hall’s wooden planks, that were old and rattling and needed new nails, and the lady of the hall battered her long-suffering husband with a constant stream of rasping insults.

  To escape the sound of both, Thorgils and Torstan had spent most of their time outside with the men they had brought to help them keep watch over the headland. There weren’t many – only six in all – but it was enough to ensure that a pair of eyes was constantly scanning the horizon. Although in this weather, Thorgils was beginning to wonder if anyone would be stupid enough to cross the Akuliina Sea, which was a wild bitch at the best of times.

  ‘They won’t come at night,’ Torstan insisted as they stood near the edge of the cliff, straining their eyes to see through the low lying clouds.

  ‘Maybe, but Bram says those Arnessons are arrogant shits, so it’s possible they’ll do something stupid. But still, having just sailed through those spires in the dark, I say good luck to them! Hopefully, they’ll pack a spare pair of trousers!’

  The crease between Torstan’s eyebrows did not ease. He clenched his jaw. ‘In this weather, we’re going to have a hard time getting our signal fires going.’

  ‘True,’ Thorgils grinned. ‘Which is why we brought the fastest horses on Oss with us. Don’t worry.’ He patted his friend on the shoulder. ‘We’ll give them enough warning, and we’ll get back to the fort in time.’ He was trying to appear confident, but his insides were churning at the thought of how many ships were coming.

  How many men?

  Too many, was the answer they all feared.

  ‘My lord,’ the dreamer murmured.

  Gerod had just screamed at them until his shiny cheeks had turned a deep purple and his ice-blue eyes were popping out of his face.

  She was hesitant to speak at all.

  Gerod rounded on the young woman, who was new to the chamber. He didn’t know her name, nor remember her bringing one dream of relevance to him at all. He sighed impatiently, running his hands over his slippery, black hair, smoothing it down on either side of his cheeks, calming himself as he did so. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I had a dream,’ she said nervously, looking at her clasped hands. ‘The Brekkan army is marching to Tuura with their new king, Axl Furyck.’

  Gerod glared at her. That put him in a bind. ‘Why?’

  ‘He is worried, my lord, about his grandmother. His family. He fears they are in danger.’

  ‘And he is bringing his entire army with him?’ Gerod’s eyes widened. ‘Well, this is interesting news. Finally, finally, someone has something worthy of my attention! And what is your name?’ he asked, looking the girl over, wanting to remember her.

  ‘Thea,’ she said with a small smile now.

  ‘Good girl, Thea,’ Gerod purred. ‘You will reach out to Morana tonight. I shall be interested to see what she thinks about this development. It will surely be time to kill Jael Furyck and her men now.’

  They had decided to break into the temple on the night of the shadow moon, hoping that its cloak of darkness would aid their plans. But there were less than two days to prepare and a lot of decisions to be made. Everyone needed to know what to do and when.

  And they were desperate for more weapons.

  After a morning spent in the smithy with Kormac, Jael had come back to the house, eager to check on Edela, who was annoyed that she was still, for the most part, bed bound.

  ‘You think I should just lie here and wait to be carried onto the ship?’ Edela grumbled. ‘Like an old invalid? While you’re all out there, risking your lives? You only came here because of me, and now I can’t do anything to help you!’ Her
shoulders heaved in frustration.

  Jael tried not to smile. ‘You were almost dead! How can you forget that? We’d like to take you back home alive!’

  ‘Home?’ Edela wondered, peering at Jael. ‘And where is that to be, I wonder?’

  Jael peered back. ‘Well, you tell me, Grandmother. Wouldn’t you like to go back to Oss and see to Evaine?’

  ‘Oh.’ Edela’s eyes rounded at the thought of that. ‘Yes, I would. But without that book, we are going to have to find another way to save Eadmund. Especially with the –’

  ‘We need to focus on what to do once we’re inside the temple,’ Jael said sharply, standing up and walking over to the fire to add another log. It was not an especially cold day, but Edela had lost so much weight that she felt the cold more than ever, Jael knew. ‘We have to find Marcus, but if he’s still alive, I imagine he’ll be heavily guarded.’

  Edela’s mouth was still hanging open in surprise at having been interrupted so abruptly, although, she wondered why she was surprised at all; Jael had been interrupting her since she was old enough to talk. ‘Yes, I imagine so,’ Edela said with a frown. She did not like the man and had been disturbed to find that he was now their ally. ‘But unless you kill everyone in the temple, we will have no chance of escaping anyway.’

  ‘And what about Axl and Aleksander? Have you seen any sign of them in your dreams? Are they alright?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Edela smiled. ‘They are coming. Axl is the King of Brekka, at last, and he is coming for us.’

  The pleasure of sitting on a horse again was rapidly outweighed by the discomfort of keeping his feet in the stirrups, so Axl just clung onto the reins instead, leaving Gant to tie his horse onto his and pull him along.

  It was not the finest start to his reign, Axl grumbled to himself, but his men seemed pleased to see him. Perhaps even relieved. And as strange as it felt, he realised that he had to lead them now.

  But into who knew what?

  ‘I wish we had a dreamer,’ he sighed to Amma, who rode alongside him. ‘A little grey-haired one.’

  Amma smiled sadly, thinking of Edela. ‘Well, perhaps we’ll find one just like that very soon.’

  Aleksander turned around in his saddle. ‘We’re not too far away now. Another day, I’d say.’ He felt the familiar clench around his heart when he thought of Tuura. It was even worse now that he was forced to see his mother in a disturbing, new light. He didn’t want to believe that she had done anything to try and hurt Jael.

  ‘And what do you think we’re going to find when we get there?’ Gant wondered from Aleksander’s left.

  ‘No idea at all. The dream warned of everyone being in danger. But from who or what, I don’t know.’

  ‘Perhaps we’re too late?’ Axl worried.

  ‘I hope not,’ Aleksander frowned. ‘But we’ll know soon enough. Best that we put our minds to thinking of a way to get in. They’ve built some tall walls since the last time you were there.’

  Neither Axl nor Gant wanted to think about the last time they were in Tuura. And nor did Aleksander, so they stopped talking altogether, fumbling quickly with their hoods as the rain came down again.

  Meena was growing bored with her confinement.

  Egil had gone in and out of the chamber throughout the day, and he had locked the door each time. Apart from Berard’s unexpected visit, she hadn’t seen a soul.

  It was warm, and Meena wanted to feel a breeze on her skin; water, air, anything but this stuffy chamber with only Egil for company. She sat on the bed, her chapped hands twitching in her lap, wondering how she was ever going to escape while she remained locked in.

  There was a sharp knock on the door and Egil creaked to his feet, shuffling over to it with a moody frown. His eyes widened as he unlocked the door and pulled it slowly open.

  ‘Why are you locking yourself in?’ Morana scowled as she crept past, her shoulders hunched tightly around her ears. ‘I can assure you that any danger coming your way is not going to be stopped by a lock!’

  ‘My master is not here,’ Egil swallowed as he hurried behind Morana, who had edged her way towards Meena.

  ‘Your master?’ Morana sneered, twisting her head around. ‘What would I want with him?’ she laughed. ‘No, I have come looking for an assistant. Someone who knows exactly how to help me.’

  Meena looked horrified, staring quickly away from the dark pits of her aunt’s searching eyes.

  ‘Do you know of anyone like that, Meena?’ Morana asked sweetly. ‘Anyone who could assist me?’

  Meena gulped and resisted the urge to shake her head. What was the point? Morana had come for her, and she had no choice but to go.

  ‘I’m not sure that my master –’ Egil spluttered.

  ‘Your master?’ Morana rounded on him. ‘Your master is welcome to come to my chamber and tell me all the problems he might have with me taking an assistant. For what I need to do, in such a short space of time, I require help. Tell him that!’ And snatching Meena’s sleeve, she yanked her niece to her feet. ‘Now, come along, little mouse. We don’t have any time to waste!’

  Meena yelped and stumbled after her aunt as she dragged her past Egil, too terrified to take any pleasure in the disturbed look on his face.

  Biddy had spent a busy afternoon with Entorp and Derwa, picking herbs for the assault on the towers. They planned to put the soldiers to sleep, and Derwa knew where all the right herbs were located for that. But how they were going to get the mixture inside each tower was a problem that nobody could find an answer to.

  ‘Do they make their own food?’ Jael wondered.

  ‘I think it comes from the hall kitchen,’ Kormac said as he took a bite out of his chicken leg. ‘They had to build a hall recently to fit in all the soldiers. From what I know, most sleep there. Meals are served there. Perhaps food is taken around to the towers too?’

  ‘Can we find out?’ Jael wondered. ‘Is there anyone you know who works there?’

  Branwyn smiled, passing Entorp the bowl of baby turnips. ‘Funnily enough, that’s where Briga has just started working!’

  ‘I’m starting to like the sound of this Briga,’ Jael grinned, not having an appetite for anything but trying to force herself to nibble her way through a piece of rye bread; anything to stop Edela from glaring at her. ‘Perhaps you can visit her again tomorrow? It’s best if I’m not seen near her.’

  Branwyn nodded eagerly. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Good. If we can break that symbol in the towers without being discovered, then we can focus on getting into the temple and rescuing Marcus. We’ll need every pair of hands for that.’

  ‘What about Axl and Aleksander?’ Gisila asked anxiously. ‘Shouldn’t we wait for them? If they have the army, doesn’t it make sense to wait?’

  ‘They may be bringing the army to Tuura,’ Edela yawned from her bed. ‘But no one will be letting them in if The Following has its way!’

  The Following did not gather in daylight.

  Ever.

  For many, their allegiance to Raemus had always been carefully masked from those around them. Most Followers lived in the kingdom as lords and ladies, farmers, merchants, armourers, even servants. Only a handful were bold enough to wear their distinctive, hooded robes in public.

  When it was time to convene a meeting, Yorik would send word through a small network of slaves who were loyal to him, and when night fell, the Followers would creep around the cobblestoned streets, winding their way through the tightly packed buildings towards the entrance of the catacombs. It was concealed in the weaver’s house, beneath his workshop. A trapdoor in the floor revealed a stone staircase that led to the hidden passageway. And there they would begin their journey through the skull-lined catacombs, towards the round meeting chamber, deep under the castle.

  But on this humid afternoon, there was only one unsettled, impatient man waiting for Yorik to speak.

  ‘Is this where we will perform the ritual?’ Jaeger asked, glancing around at the unfamiliar symbol
s carved into the stone walls, illuminated by the torches that Yorik was patiently lighting. He was amazed to think that such a place existed beneath the castle he had spent his whole life in.

  That he had known nothing about it.

  He wondered if his father knew?

  ‘Here?’ Yorik’s expression did not waver. ‘No, we will go to the Crown of Stones again, but this time we will take something with us.’ He motioned with one hand towards the shadows, lifting a torch out of its sconce with the other. ‘Someone.’

  Jaeger felt a surge of excitement. This is what he’d been waiting for. He followed Yorik through an archway.

  Into a round tomb.

  It stunk of rat shit, and what else, Jaeger didn’t know, but he couldn’t feel any air coming in. He could barely breathe at all.

  Yorik didn’t seem to notice, though, as he carried on. ‘Her name was Draguta,’ he murmured. ‘She gave birth to Valder Dragos, first of your line.’

  Now Yorik had Jaeger’s attention. ‘The one we are bringing back was Valder Dragos’ mother?’ He looked down at the stone coffin. It was high-status, he could tell, covered in detailed reliefs of big-eyed dragons and long-tongued creatures he didn’t recognise. And on the very top, near where you would expect a head to be lurking beneath the thick stone lid, the masked face of what appeared to be a woman rose up, wild hair flaring out from her head like stone branches.

  ‘Yes, she is your ancestor, and the book has chosen you to help us bring her back.’ Yorik tensed, wondering how Jaeger would react.

  ‘How?’

  ‘With blood,’ Yorik smiled. ‘We will need your blood.’

  40

  Meena didn’t know which was worse. She had been freed from Jaeger’s chamber, but now she was locked in Morana’s.