Kings of Fate A Prequel Novella

by A. E. Rayne

  Tig was on his feet, but he was weak and so were they, so Aleksander, Jonas, and Isaak walked him and Isaak’s horse to the village of Norbo, which was only a morning’s journey from the riverbank they had crawled out onto. The sun was out, no sign of rain on the horizon, though the three men and two horses still felt frozen solid as they ambled down the muddy track.

  Aleksander didn’t want to walk at all. He wanted to run straight back to Andala. Gudrum had tricked them. And they hadn’t been clever enough to see it coming.

  He wanted to scream.

  He kept telling himself that Jael could handle Gudrum Killi.

  But if she hadn’t seen him coming?

  Aleksander was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear Isaak talking to him.

  ‘Think we need to slow down. Tig looks ready to drop.’

  Aleksander blinked, turning to Jael’s horse with concern. ‘You alright, boy?’ he murmured, running a hand down Tig’s black muzzle, worried by how quiet and still he continued to be. Tig was usually twitching, impatient, determined to go somewhere. Just like Jael. But his head drooped, and he barely lifted an eyelid as Aleksander leaned in close, whispering in his ear. ‘Why don’t we stop for a while? Take a rest?’ He turned to Isaak. ‘You go on. Both of you. I’ll catch up. See if you can find a healer in Norbo.’ Aleksander stopped, trying to catch his breath. His ears had been buzzing on and off, and he kept seeing dark patches flash across his eyes. Blood had been steadily leaking from his shoulder all morning.

  They all needed a healer; someone to stitch them up.

  Isaak’s weary eyes were scanning the road, checking the bushes. ‘If you’re not there by midday, I’ll come back.’

  ‘We both will,’ Jonas put in with a smile. ‘With the healer.’

  Aleksander nodded, eyes on an old tree with a broad trunk, thinking how ready he was for a rest too. Just a little rest and they could both get on the road again. He tugged gently on Tig’s reins, leading him towards the tree, stumbling slightly, ears ringing louder now.

  Edela was cross at herself for not seeing Gudrum’s plotting earlier. When she’d finally had a vision of what he was up to with Lothar, she’d hurried to find Jael, but by then it had been too late. She’d heard it in Jael’s voice, knowing that she was already fighting for her life in that tiny cottage.

  Yet Jael had lived, as had Biddy. And though she was grateful for that, guilt lay like a heavy weight on her heart, knowing the poor men she had asked to help her save Jael had both lost their lives.

  Edela held her granddaughter’s hand which jiggled impatiently in hers while Biddy leaned over Jael, stitching her lip. ‘You won’t make it go any faster if you wriggle,’ she warned, remembering Jael as a girl, the biggest wriggler of all. She would never sit for a cuddle. Ever.

  ‘But what about Aleksander?’ Jael asked, ignoring her grandmother. ‘What about Tig?’

  ‘Stop talking!’ Biddy snapped, trying to concentrate, needle poised near Jael’s upper lip. ‘I’ll stitch you through the nostril in a moment!’

  Edela almost grinned, but worry about Aleksander quickly had her frowning as she creaked forward, eyes seeking answers in the twisting flames of her fire. ‘Well, Aleksander’s surely clever enough to see trouble coming, isn’t he? And he can handle himself with a sword, you know that better than anyone.’ They were empty words, though, and Edela knew that Jael would not be fooled or comforted by them.

  Jael wasn’t.

  She sat quietly, wondering what she could do.

  Lothar had helped Gudrum. She had looked into her uncle’s eyes, seen his surprise that she was still standing. And Aleksander was gone. If she disappeared to look for him, what would happen to Gisila, Edela, and Biddy? They were vulnerable without her and Aleksander to look after them. And Axl was no use. She hadn’t seen much more than a glimpse of him in days.

  Biddy stepped back, squinting at Jael’s lip. It was only a couple of stitches, and she doubted there would even be much of a scar. Not like that one running under her eye, which was still angry after all these years. Biddy smiled sadly, thinking how many years it had been since Jael was a girl.

  How many since they had felt safe in the fort.

  Jael turned to Edela. ‘You have to try and dream of Aleksander. Please. And Tig. I need to know what’s happened. Where they are. I need to find a way to help them, but I have to know where they are first. If they’re alright.’

  Edela nodded. ‘I will. I barely slept last night, so I may just wrap a fur around myself and fall asleep in front of the fire. Don’t worry.’ She patted Jael’s hand and promptly started yawning. ‘Don’t worry, now. I’ll find them.’

  Ake Bluefinn was a man of reputation, standing, honour, and most of all, he thought to himself, of family. And he could feel Eirik’s fury at his son lifting off him like steam rising from a hot pool of water. He shivered, thinking how nice that sounded on a day this bitter where his toes were curling in his sodden boots, trying to keep each other warm. Where his nose was dripping, and he wished he had more hair on his head or a thick beard like Eirik Skalleson.

  He smiled as they walked to his favourite ship, Camilla. Named for his mother.

  Ake Bluefinn was a man of family.

  He turned to Eirik with a grin. ‘Our alliance will hold,’ he insisted, watching Eirik’s small eyes pop open in surprise. ‘Whatever your son did to Orla will not break it.’ He stopped, watching the Berras’, knowing that while Hector might take a while to come around to his position, ultimately, he would have no choice in the matter. ‘We’re going to need our alliance. My dreamer sees a dark cloud coming. A white cloud too.’

  Eirik looked confused, and Ake laughed. ‘I’ve no idea! Sometimes, with that woman, I simply have no idea. She has no teeth. It’s a struggle!’ His eyes, watering with the cold, were bright and kind. ‘But she wanted me to reach out to you. After all these years, it made sense. We’re not men who need to build our reputations. Not any longer. We’re kings who need to prepare for the future. For our children. Our families.’ He turned to the harbour entrance in the distance, watching two ships approach those dangerous stone spires. ‘And it’s better to know your neighbours as friends, than to continually battle them as enemies.’

  Eirik nodded. ‘It is.’ He felt his stiff shoulders relax slightly for the first time all morning. ‘Though I am sorry for whatever offense my son has caused. He is...’ Eirik’s anger receded quickly, seeing Eadmund’s face in his mind. ‘He’s a good man. An honourable man. I don’t understand what he could have done.’ He shook his head. ‘Though the girl certainly looks upset.’

  ‘That she does,’ Ake agreed, watching as Cotilde tried to calm her daughter who was still sobbing, occasionally shrieking. ‘Though better to have gone wrong before the marriage than in the middle of it!’ He yawned, walking towards the frothing water, eager to be underway, sensing that his helmsmen were ready to put out to sea. If the wind strengthened any further, they would have trouble easing out of the tricky harbour.

  Eirik didn’t say anything. Some days his love for his son filled him with joy, but mostly he was just brimming with frustration and impatience. He had loved Eadmund’s mother fiercely, and his dream had always been to put her son on the throne. He didn’t want to think that he would have to abandon him now. That he would be forced into making another choice. One that even he would find it hard to live with. But, Eirik realised, it was time to start thinking about the future of Oss without Eadmund in it.

  He had simply run out of time.

  Eadmund left Thorgils with Torstan who was heading into the hall. He wanted to be alone. His friends barely grunted at him as he left, and he could feel their disappointment following him like a stray dog.

  Avoiding everyone’s eyes, Eadmund skirted the long tables where a row of red-cheeked women were gutting fish, throwing each part into a different barrel: some to be salted, some dried, and the rest for lamp oil. The overpowering smell had him retching, and the sound of Orla Berras’ hyste
rical screeching taunted him, and Eadmund felt trapped, wanting to grab his horse and ride down the island.

  Then he remembered that his horse had died years ago.

  He’d never even bothered to find another.

  The air was bitter as he trudged along, dense clouds sweeping across the sky, snow flurries settling in his beard, his mouth; his mother’s voice in his ears, trying to soothe him, to cheer him up.

  Eadmund ignored it, not wanting to feel even more pathetic.

  Even more alone.

  And then Evaine was there, white cloak bright in a sea of greys and browns, face glowing with happiness to see him. ‘Eadmund!’ Her blue eyes blinked rapidly as she smoothed down her loose hair, trying to tame the tangles the wind had wrought. She looked up at him with sympathy as he stopped in front of her, reaching out a mittened hand, clasping his. ‘Why don’t we go back to your cottage?’ she smiled eagerly. ‘It’s so cold out here today. I can help you light a fire. Find some ale to drink.’

  Eadmund stared down at her, suddenly aware of how thick the mud was. How cold and wet his feet were in his boots. How much his head ached. How miserable he felt. Memories flickered of his father’s rage-filled face. He heard his mother’s urgent voice telling him to turn around.

  But he found himself nodding, numb, his hand in Evaine’s as she led him down the alley, towards his cottage.

  12

  Days passed, and Jael was still without Aleksander and Tig.

  Edela had seen no sign of Tig in her dreams, though she had seen Aleksander and his two friends, who appeared to be injured, slowly making their way back to Andala. There was some comfort in that. But Edela had not seen her horse, and that worried Jael as she limped around the fort, trying to keep out of Lothar’s way; though he was just as eager to avoid her company, content to huddle with Gant, plotting his next attack on Hest, still stewing about Gudrum failing to kill his niece.

  It was a surprise to see Osbert coming towards her, leading a fine-looking chestnut stallion whose mane had been braided, tail flicking impatiently, brown eyes full of fire. He reminded her of Tig, and Jael swallowed, wondering again what had happened to him.

  ‘You didn’t appear to be looking for a new horse,’ Osbert said with a satisfied grin. ‘So I found one for you.’

  Jael frowned. ‘Found one?’ The horse was a beauty, his warm brown coat glowing with a healthy sheen. She reached out a hand, placing it against his muzzle, and he pushed his head towards her, blowing softly. ‘Just wandering around, was he? Lost?’

  Osbert’s grin grew. ‘Well, I had Fitzig looking for just the right horse. I didn’t imagine you’d be after a tame pony. Not a woman like you.’ He held out the reins to Jael, puffing up his chest.

  Jael took her hand away from the horse, eyeing her cousin with disdain. ‘You think you can buy my affection, Osbert? With a horse? When it was your father who gave away my horse in the first place? When you and Lothar took away everything my family had? You think I’ll look favourably on because you found me a new horse? That I will marry you?’ She snorted, angry, nostrils flaring. ‘Will you just go and find another woman, Osbert!’ she growled. ‘There is nothing you could give me. Nothing that would ever make me marry a snivelling, spineless worm like you!’

  A large crowd had gathered near the hall, and Jael spotted the look of alarm on her mother’s face as she stood with Biddy, both of them clutching baskets to their chests, frozen to the spot.

  But Jael couldn’t take it back, and looking at the anger narrowing Osbert’s scheming brown eyes, she didn’t want to. He was a leech, hovering around whenever Aleksander disappeared, brushing against her, leering at her body, trying to ingratiate himself. She wanted him to stop. To get away from her.

  To wake up and realise that she would never choose a husband like him.

  She would never choose a husband at all.

  Her eyes were up on the gates in the distance, and shivering, Jael tried to run, hobbling and limping, leaving Osbert and his horse behind, her mother and Biddy too. She hurried through the busy square, past Gant, who looked up, confusion in his eyes.

  And then he was there.

  Tig. Tig was there!

  ‘Tig! Tig!’ Tears in her eyes, Jael limped forward, not recognising the man who had brought him through the gates. Tig threw his head around, pleased to see her, though he sounded oddly quiet, and Jael could see the stitches on his back, and hurrying around him, looking him over, stitches zigzagging across his rump too.

  ‘Found him wandering down the road,’ the man said with a cheerful grin. ‘Thought he might be lost. A fine horse like him? Looked like someone would be missing him.’

  If Jael had had a silver coin, she would have given it to the man, though he winked at her, and she knew that Aleksander had likely already seen to that.

  ‘What is going on?’ Lothar’s voice rose above the fray as more people clamoured to see what was happening. Most of them knew Tig. They knew Jael. It was Lothar and his children who were the strangers in Andala, though Lothar had brought enough men with him to ensure that what they thought was of little significance to him.

  For now.

  ‘Is that your horse?’ Lothar’s protruding eyes protruded even further. ‘Where did he come from?’ He spun around, poking his finger at the man’s chest. The man, who was dressed like a farmer in a long brown cloak with a wide brim hat, was not from Andala, though he had known Ranuf Furyck, and he knew that his brother had usurped his throne.

  He didn’t step back.

  ‘I found him on the road, my lord. Thought I’d bring him into the fort before I continued on to Vallsborg. Looked to me like he was someone’s horse. Seems that I was right.’ He smiled at Jael, who nodded her thanks and grabbed hold of Tig’s bridle, forcing her eyes away from the gates, not wanting Lothar to think that she was waiting for Aleksander too. As far as he was concerned, Aleksander had already returned from hunting, and was back in the fort somewhere.

  The looks on the faces of the Andalans gathered around them was one of surprise, happiness too. And Lothar did not want to cause problems for himself by stirring up trouble amongst those men and women he needed to support him.

  Let her have her horse.

  Let her have her cottage and her lover.

  Let her have her brother, her mother, her grandmother, and that servant of hers too.

  Because that was all Jael Furyck would ever have.

  He would see to that.

  And smiling, Lothar swept his fur-trimmed cloak around as he spun away.

  Eirik stood on the hill overlooking the harbour. Conditions were fair for the first time in days, and two of his ships had returned that morning with whales.

  Two whales.

  Nearly everyone was down on the beach, working. Every part would be used. None would go to waste. Those whales would help sustain them over the winter.

  But despite the relief he felt at the sight of those two enormous sea beasts, Eirik couldn’t raise much more than half a smile. And he couldn’t focus on what Morac was saying to him at all. ‘Why not talk to Beorn?’ he grumbled, at last, not wanting to be drawn out of his glum mood. He had been wracking his brain, trying to think of what to do with Eadmund. What to do about his throne.

  He didn’t want to think about ships. Not today.

  Morac nodded. ‘I will. I’m sure Otto will have some thoughts too.’

  ‘I’m sure he will,’ Eirik sighed, not turning to look at his friend as he headed back into the fort.

  A cool breeze lifted the stink of the dead whales into the air, and Eirik was oddly reminded of his first wife and how she had hated the smell of whale blubber so much that she would vomit whenever she was near it.

  It had not been his most successful marriage, he thought wryly, lost in the past again. And then a little cold hand, slipping into his. Eirik smiled, turning to look down on the shining black head of his precious daughter. ‘You are like smoke, creeping around the fort. I never hear you coming!’


  Eydis grinned. ‘Maybe that’s because your ears are filled with so much hair these days!’

  ‘And how would you know?’ Eirik wondered, slipping her cold hand through his arm, trying to warm it up. He turned her around, and they walked across the ridge, past the open gates of the old stone fort, not wanting to go inside.

  ‘I see you in my dreams, Father,’ Eydis said. ‘Every night, I see you.’

  That made Eirik both happy and sad. He knew what she saw sometimes, and he didn’t want that for her. She was too young. Too innocent.

  He squeezed her hand. ‘Well, I shall have Frida give them a trim! I might start hearing like a young man again. Like Eadmund.’ And then his smile was gone.

  But Eydis’ brightened.

  ‘Last night I saw Eadmund,’ she breathed, her body shivering with excitement. ‘With a woman.’

  ‘Oh?’ Eirik lifted a wild white eyebrow. He didn’t know what to say to that.

  ‘I’ve seen her so many times. I didn’t realise it, but she has been in my dreams for months. I saw her with Eadmund. Here. In the fort. With Eadmund. And he looked so different, Father. He was happy.’

  Eirik didn’t believe that such a thing sounded possible anymore. ‘It wasn’t Orla Berras, was it?’ he joked. ‘I don’t want to relive that nightmare, thank you. I never want to hear that name again.’

  ‘No.’ Eydis shook her head, unable to stop smiling, despite her father’s dour mood. ‘It wasn’t. It was Jael Furyck. I saw him with Jael Furyck!’

  Eirik stumbled to a stop, and turning, he bent down to Eydis, eyes sharp now. ‘What? But...’ His mouth hung open, his head swivelling, looking from the old fort towards the bloody whales, hearing the thunderous roar of the harbour, seeing the murky waves assaulting the dark spires.

  And Eirik’s old blue eyes were suddenly moist.

  He shook his head, laughing out loud. ‘Jael Furyck! Ha! You’re sure, Eydis? Sure it was her?’