The Burning Sea

by A. E. Rayne

  Otto looked at Eirik, unimpressed.

  Eadmund frowned at Aleksander, who drew back the bow, his bicep straining his tunic with the effort. Aleksander narrowed his eyes on his target and released the flaming arrow, watching as it arced with whisper-silent speed towards the broken shards.

  Suddenly the water exploded into flames. A tall curtain of fire rose up from the rocky outcrop, flooding across the harbour, bursting and sparking with hungry intensity.

  And kept on growing.

  Aleksander took a step back and turned around to enjoy the blank looks on the faces of the silent Osslanders around him.

  ‘The water is on fire,’ Jael stated plainly.

  Aleksander grinned, watching her bemused face.

  ‘The water,’ she said again. ‘The water is on fire. And the rocks.’

  ‘Yes, those too.’

  Eirik turned to his master shipbuilder, Beorn. ‘We need to build catapults on the ships. Now! At least half of them, wouldn’t you say?’ He aimed his question at Aleksander.

  ‘Well, I would say as many as you can get built in time. There are 100 jars. If you fit catapults to five ships, you could have 20 on each ship.’

  ‘What is in those jars?’ Thorgils wondered as he tugged on his beard, not taking his eyes off the burning water.

  ‘Ahhh, well that would be Tuuran sea-fire. Edela’s secret recipe,’ Aleksander smiled. ‘Her gift to Jael.’

  ‘Hello, Meena.’

  Jaeger had roused himself into a better mood, spurred on by the thought of Meena Gallas and what she might be able to do to help him.

  She was a particularly plain woman, with wide eyes that bulged nervously, and a habit of tapping her head when she was anxious, as she was now, squirming away from the king’s youngest son. ‘My lord,’ Meena nodded, mumbling into her chest as her fingers worked away at the sides of her head, twisting into her wild red hair which hung about her in a mess of unbound, frizzy curls.

  ‘How are you, Meena?’ Jaeger smiled, oozing charm all over the nervous little mouse. ‘I have not seen much of you of late.’

  ‘No, my lord.’ Meena’s big blue eyes rushed around her feet, not daring to meet his. ‘My grandmother has kept me in the gardens, collecting plants for her.’

  ‘Ahhh, well that makes sense,’ Jaeger said lightly, trying to control his building irritation at her constant tapping. ‘It’s that time of year, I suppose.’

  Meena didn’t say anything, but her tapping stopped as she wondered what was coming next. She started shuffling her feet.

  ‘I want you to come to my chamber,’ Jaeger murmured, wrapping his arm around Meena’s rigid back. ‘I need your help, but it’s not something we should discuss here.’ He looked around the hall, watching as the slaves cleared away the morning meal. ‘Too many eyes and ears in the castle for that. We need to be alone for what I have in mind.’

  Meena looked up in horror, shrinking away from him. Her mouth opened and closed, but no words would come out.

  Jaeger smiled, taking that as a yes, and urged her along with him, his large, muscular arm still curled around her shaking back.

  Jael had left everyone down on the beach, surrounding Aleksander, peppering him with questions, doubts, problems. He’d looked pleadingly at her as she’d disappeared across the stones, but she’d left him to it, desperate to see if there had been any improvement in Edela.

  Fyn had tagged along.

  ‘I’ve never seen anything like that!’ he said, shaking his head in amazement as he trotted beside her, ignoring, in his youthful confidence, the ever-present danger of the slick stones. ‘We will surely stand a good chance now.’

  Jael’s confidence had been boosted by the demonstration, and she too felt their chances had improved, but still, between Skorro and the Tower, they would be subjected to a devastating barrage of arrows. ‘Perhaps. But even if we sink their entire fleet, they will find more, and by then we may all be pinned to our own ships. Besides, Edela doesn’t think that Lothar will get through the pass, so inevitably we are doomed.’

  Fyn frowned, not liking the sound of being doomed in his first battle. He was only 19-years-old and jangling with nervous excitement to finally test himself as a warrior. Training with Jael and Thorgils over the winter had given him a confidence he had not experienced before. He was keen to prove to both of them that he had been worth their time and effort. ‘Well, I shall hope you are wrong, Jael,’ he said firmly and turned around to smile at her, but his eyes wandered to a familiar ship rolling its way towards the foreshore, and his cheerful expression fell away. He shuddered.

  ‘What is it?’ Jael frowned, following his gaze.

  They were climbing the hill to the fort now, which gave them a clear view over the harbour. Fyn’s eyes were sharp enough to recognise the ship and the tall, gaunt man who stood in the bow.

  Morac Gallas.

  His father.

  ‘You’re not a dreamer are you, Meena?’ Jaeger purred as he circled the small chair he had wedged Meena into, right next to his blazing fire. ‘You don’t see the future like your grandmother?’

  Meena’s bulbous eyes flittered about. She didn’t know where to look, nor what Jaeger wanted with her. The flames had heated her quickly, and she could smell the stench of anxiety as it drifted up from her armpits. She started tapping her right foot. ‘No, no, my lord, I don’t,’ she croaked.

  ‘But you know a lot of things about... magic, don’t you?’ he wondered, leaning in closer to reinforce the intimacy of their conversation. ‘I’m sure your grandmother has taught you many things about spellwork and magic. Maybe even... dark magic?’

  Meena frowned, worried by the gleam in his eye, distracted by the strong smell of wine on his breath. Jaeger was a man to fear, everyone in the castle knew that. And what he wanted he usually got, except of course, where his father was concerned. She nibbled on a fingernail, shaking. ‘Magic? No, no, not really, no.’ Meena pushed herself up out of the chair, then sat back down again. ‘I, I, my grandmother shows me things but, I, I don’t perform the magic. I only help her. I am her... assistant.’ Meena glanced up anxiously at his face, but he didn’t appear bothered by that.

  Jaeger walked over to the table and picked up the book. It was not a large book, and certainly not heavy. He laid it over Meena’s shaking legs and opened it casually. ‘It is very good to hear that you are an assistant,’ he smiled at her, showing off a set of surprisingly white teeth. ‘For I happen to be looking for some assistance to help me interpret the magic in this book.’

  Meena’s eyes popped in fear. ‘I, ahhh...’

  Jaeger smiled and eased his face down towards hers until their noses were almost touching. ‘All I need to know is whether you can read any of these spells. That’s it. And then you can go.’ He kept his voice low and calm.

  Meena glanced down at the book, trying to ignore the close proximity of his body to hers. She ran her eyes quickly over the page and frowned.

  Jaeger almost pounced on her. ‘What? What is it?’

  Meena started tapping the side of her head. ‘It’s, it’s, it’s,’ she stumbled, chewing harder on her fingernail. ‘It’s very old,’ she mumbled. ‘I have seen something like it before, but I’m not sure where. Perhaps my grandmother –’

  ‘No!’ Jaeger barked.

  Meena jumped, shivering at the sudden change in his face. His teeth were bared as he glared at her. There was no warmth in his eyes now.

  ‘No, Meena, this is not something you can ever tell your grandmother,’ he said, trying to regain his composure. ‘You see, Varna is loyal to my father, and this book... it is a secret that very few people know about. And now, Meena, you are one of those special people. You must keep it a secret too. You must help me solve its puzzles so that I can help our kingdom in the battle with the Brekkans.’

  Meena looked confused, doubtful even. ‘But my grandmother says that we will defeat them easily,’ she whispered.

  ‘Perhaps this time,’ Jaeger said carefully as h
e reached out and touched her shaking leg. Meena flinched. ‘But they will come again. Lothar Furyck will never give up trying to take what we have. And my father is old, and my brothers are weak, so I must find another way to help us stop them before we are all lying dead in our beds, covered in blood.’ He leaned in closer, staring into those terrified, bulging eyes. She was such an unfortunately ugly woman, he thought to himself. ‘And you, Meena, are going to help me.’

  4

  ‘I didn’t expect you would return,’ Eirik grumbled, running his fading eyes over his old friend. He was thinner, he thought. Older. Like a stone on the beach, the years were wearing away at him. ‘Not after all this time.’

  Morac Gallas ducked his head, avoiding those searching eyes he knew so well. He swirled the wine in his cup and sighed. ‘I expect you didn’t.’ He looked up. ‘I couldn’t leave Evaine. She was in a bad way.’

  As curious as Eirik was to find out what that meant, he bit down on any urge to ask questions and simply grunted, leaning forward to poke at the fire that was shrinking between them. Evening had come to claim the day, and his back was aching from the cold. His private chamber, though usually warm, had been aired by his servants, and it had taken far too long to heat the room again. He frowned, but couldn’t decide if he was annoyed at them, or just cross with his friend, who had deserted him. ‘But now you’re back.’

  ‘I am,’ Morac nodded.

  ‘And for how long shall I be enjoying your company, then?’ Eirik muttered. ‘I expect you need to rush back to your daughter.’

  Morac took a sip of wine. He closed his eyes, appreciating the velvety liquid as it slid down his throat. His months on Rikka had deprived him of all luxury, and he had missed, with a desperate thirst, the lush, rich flavours of Eirik’s wine. ‘Well, that depends on you, I think.’

  Eirik frowned.

  ‘Evaine has had the baby,’ Morac started, ignoring the irritated look on his king’s face. ‘He came much earlier than expected and has struggled, and she with him. The birth did not go smoothly.’

  ‘And why are you telling me this?’ Eirik growled. ‘I made it clear that I have no desire to know about that girl and her child.’

  Morac took a deep breath, reminded of their last conversation, which had set fire to their friendship. ‘You did, that is true. But you are my oldest friend. After all that we have been through... how could you not wish to know that your grandson has been born? The grandson we share.’

  ‘And?’ Eirik reached out and picked up his cup.

  Morac was incredulous. He had imagined that time would have softened Eirik’s stance on Evaine and the baby. ‘And? And, do you not wish to know his name? How he fares?’

  ‘No. As I said to you, that child and his mother are nothing to do with Oss anymore.’

  ‘But...’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘I want to bring them here. To live,’ Morac said quietly, watching Eirik’s eyes widen, already knowing his answer.

  ‘No.’

  Morac shifted to the edge of his sheepskin-covered chair. ‘It is not good on Rikka for Evaine, Eirik. She hates it there with Morana. Her cottage is... barely habitable.’

  ‘Then build her a new one. With all the gold and silver you took from me over the years, you should have enough to build a castle!’ Eirik snapped.

  ‘Took? I never took anything you didn’t give! And I certainly worked hard for everything I have,’ Morac snapped back. He stood. ‘Well, I can see that time has not healed our wounds. I think it’s best that I leave.’

  Eirik felt caught as he watched his friend turn away. He had missed his presence around the fort. Morac knew more about how Oss ran than he did. If it wasn’t for that girl... ‘Leave Oss? Again? And what about Runa?’ Eirik wondered as he stood, grimacing. ‘What about the wife you abandoned. Or Fyn?’

  Morac froze. He turned back around, his eyes flaring.

  ‘Oh yes, while you were gone, I found out how you had me get rid of the boy. Why? Because you never liked him? Didn’t think he was good enough?’

  Morac sighed, his face pale in the dull glow of the fire. ‘No. He was never mine.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Morac’s shoulders sagged, his baggy eyes drifting towards the flames. ‘Runa and I could never have children. As much as we tried, she never fell pregnant. You remember that?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘So, when we went raiding all those years ago, that time when we were gone for months in Alekka and beyond, down the Frozen Road... I returned home to find her pregnant,’ he almost whispered, the memories surprisingly raw, despite being 20 years old. ‘What was I to think? It certainly wasn’t mine. He was never mine,’ Morac frowned. ‘Why should I have wanted him around? Why should I have cared for and trained him as though he were my son?’

  Eirik walked towards his friend. ‘And what did Runa say?’

  ‘About the boy?’ Morac asked. ‘We never spoke of it. She could barely look me in the eye when I returned. There was nothing to say.’

  ‘Well, she wouldn’t be the only woman who found another man to warm her bed while her husband was away raiding.’

  ‘No, so I forgave her,’ Morac said. ‘But him? I spent 18 years looking at him, wondering whose son he really was. I had had enough of looking at that boy.’

  ‘So, you made him suffer? When he had done nothing! You had me send him away because you had grown tired of him?’ Eirik shook his head. ‘He was nearly killed!’

  Morac didn’t even blink. ‘And?’

  ‘And Jael and Eadmund saved him, and now he’s here. With Runa. You will have to decide what you plan to do about that.’

  ‘But where will you go?’ Runa Gallas asked, her eyes brimming with tears.

  ‘Well, Thorgils is trying to sweeten Odda up, so she’ll let Fyn move in there,’ Jael said. ‘If not, he’ll stay with me.’

  Fyn was frantically throwing his clothes into a pile, desperate to get out of the house before his father arrived.

  ‘Odda Svanter?’ Runa looked horrified. ‘But what room does she have in that dingy shack of hers?’

  ‘I am well used to living in a dingy shack, Mother,’ Fyn assured her as he handed his tiny pile of clothes to Jael and grabbed his weapons. ‘Thanks to him.’

  Runa looked distraught. The past few months with Fyn had been joyful. No Evaine. And no Morac, either. Runa had thought that his absence might hurt more, but she had enjoyed the solitude of the house and the quiet company of her sweet son.

  And now he was leaving.

  ‘It won’t be the same as last time,’ Jael insisted. ‘He’ll still be here, in the fort. And he will have my protection and Eirik’s. Morac won’t be able to touch him.’

  Runa ran her hands down the front of her light-grey dress. ‘But Eirik is loyal to Morac,’ she murmured anxiously. ‘He sent Fyn away at Morac’s bidding.’

  ‘Only because he didn’t know the truth of it,’ Jael insisted, following Fyn to the door. ‘There is nothing Morac can do to Fyn anymore.’

  ‘Come on, Jael,’ Fyn urged. ‘We need to go. Please.’

  ‘Fyn!’ Jael called as he disappeared through the door. ‘At least say goodbye!’

  Fyn ducked his tall frame back inside. ‘Goodbye, Mother,’ he mumbled. ‘Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. I will send a note, and we can meet to say goodbye before I leave for Saala.’

  Runa opened both her arms and her mouth, but before she could say a word, he was gone.

  ‘He is not the boy he was,’ Jael promised her. ‘He’s almost a man now. You don’t have to worry about him.’

  Runa looked at her sadly, tears wetting her sagging cheeks. ‘When you have children, you will understand that you never stop worrying about them. Never stop wanting to keep them safe, no matter how old they get.’

  ‘My wife,’ Lothar sighed, slipping under the furs beside Gisila. ‘My desperately beautiful wife. How I have missed you today!’

  Gisila’s stomach tightened, her
toes clenching as he clambered towards her, the bed groaning and sighing under his mountainous weight. She gritted her teeth. Thankfully, she had doused enough candles to ensure that he wouldn’t accidentally catch a glimpse of the distaste upon her face. ‘You have?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ he breathed, his warm hand grabbing her thigh as he heaved himself up and over her. ‘But you are getting so thin, Gisila,’ he frowned. ‘You must fatten yourself up while I’m gone, for what will I have to grab hold of if you turn to bone?’ He bent down and kissed her cheek.

  Gisila tried not to turn away. She smiled tightly. ‘I will try, of course.’

  ‘Mmmm,’ Lothar murmured as he kissed around her jaw, his tongue trailing over her neck, his hand exploring higher up her thigh. ‘Perhaps I need to get a new cook? Someone who can tempt you with their fare? Just as you tempt me with your spellbinding body.’ He sighed again. ‘Oh, Gisila, I shall miss your sweet, succulent skin.’

  Gisila’s spirits rose at the reminder that Lothar would be leaving in a few days. It was quickly tempered by the fact that so would Axl. ‘And I, you, of course,’ she said mutely as he circled her face.

  ‘And what about Gant?’ he asked suddenly, his eyes sharp, focused on hers. ‘Will you miss him too?’

  Gisila froze as Lothar moved his face to within a breath of hers. ‘Gant?’ she whispered.

  ‘I’ve heard reports that you and he were talking today,’ he said softly, rubbing one fat finger firmly across her lips.

  ‘Reports?’ she frowned beneath his finger, her heart quickening. ‘From who? What does that mean? Are you having me followed?’

  ‘Followed? I would not say so, but you are mine, Gisila. My wife and my queen. Brekka’s queen. What you do, and who you do it with concerns me greatly,’ he murmured, kissing delicately around her lips, running his hand over her shivering breasts. ‘I take great care of all my possessions. I want to keep them safe. Perfect. Untouched, except by me.’

  ‘Possessions?’ Gisila felt too irritated to notice where he was touching her now. ‘You wish to keep me in a cage like a gilded bird?’