by A. E. Rayne
They sat apart, barely speaking. Runa didn’t want to look at that mean face anymore. She hadn’t missed it. Not at all. She had anticipated that she would; that she would feel the loss of her close companion after so many years together.
But she hadn’t. Not one bit.
Instead, she had enjoyed the freedom to think and feel independently, to sit in the silence and appreciate simple pleasures. Alone. Without fear of upsetting anyone, or anyone upsetting her. And with Fyn back, she had been so content. Her once drawn face had rounded, her eyes had brightened, and her spirits had lifted.
And then Morac returned.
The fire was dying, but neither of them were attending to it, nor asking Respa to either. They just sat there like moss-covered boulders on a hill.
‘I shall have to return to Rikka soon, to see about building a house for Evaine and the child.’
Runa looked up. Just the sound of that name pricked the back of her neck. ‘Will you not be going to war with Eirik, then?’
Morac stared at her, pleased that she was speaking to him at last. ‘Well, no,’ he said slowly, ‘I had not thought that I would. My position here is no longer what it was,’ he admitted. ‘Eirik did not invite me, nor request my help.’
‘He has Jael. And Eadmund,’ Runa said coldly. ‘He relies on their advice and guidance now. Thorgils and Sevrin, too.’
‘Well, who could blame him?’ Morac muttered with a hint of irritation. ‘A king must seek opinions in order to form his own. That I know well.’
‘But not yours. Not anymore.’
‘No, I suppose not.’
‘Though, if he asks?’ Runa mused. ‘Would you go?’
‘To battle Haaron?’ Morac rubbed his chilled hands together, suddenly aware of the absence of flame in the fire pit. ‘If he asks? Yes, I would. Of course. Whether I am here or on Rikka, he is still my king, and I must answer his call.’
‘And, if you go back to Rikka?’ Runa wondered without meeting her husband’s eyes. ‘Will you stay there?’
‘Eirik will not have them here,’ Morac said quietly, considering things. ‘So yes, I expect that I would have to stay there. She needs me. They both do.’
Runa glared at Morac, wanting to throw accusations at him, but then realised that she honestly didn’t care anymore. She did not feel betrayed or hurt. She was empty of everything but the desire for him to be gone. ‘Well, then, it’s best that you return to her as soon as you can, for, as you say, she needs you.’
Amma couldn’t tell if her father was sleeping, or whether he had just closed his eyes for a moment. He certainly had just eaten an enormous meal, and it was his usual pattern of behaviour to fall into an overstuffed doze.
She crept towards him, her long, lilac dress swaying softly across the freshly changed reeds. ‘Father?’ she asked softly, stopping just before his throne.
There was no one around, but Amma knew that she only had a moment before Osbert, Gisila, or even Axl would walk in. ‘Father?’ she tried again.
‘What?!’ Lothar croaked, his eyes bursting open, his head swinging around in confusion. He tried to focus on his daughter, who stood there, almost crouching before him. ‘What is it, my dear?’ He looked around. ‘Alp! ‘ he barked. ‘Alp!’
His servant came rushing towards his bellowing master, bowing immediately. ‘My lord?’
‘Wine,’ Lothar yawned. ‘Bring the jug.’ He turned his attention to Amma as Alp scuttled away. ‘Now, what can I do for you, Daughter?’
‘Ummm, I ahhh, I wanted to talk to you about going to Saala,’ Amma mumbled, her words tumbling over one another as they raced to get out of her mouth before she could change her mind.
‘What?’ Lothar stuck a finger in his ear as if to clear it out. ‘What for? You want to be like Jael, now, do you?’ he laughed mockingly at her.
Amma looked horrified. ‘No, not to fight, Father,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Never that. I just... I would like to come. To offer my support... to you. And Osbert, of course,’ she lied boldly, dropping her eyes lest her father spot the lies she was weaving.
Lothar was puzzled.
Amma looked up, sensing his hesitation. She raced to take advantage of it. ‘Saala is far enough away from where you will fight, so I will be perfectly safe there in your camp,’ she said quickly. ‘And, I know that one day I will be a wife, and it would be good experience for me to understand the role of a woman in supporting her husband when he goes to battle. Just as Mother did with you all those years ago when we were in Iskavall.’ She widened her eyes with as much child-like innocence as she could muster.
Lothar frowned at his youngest daughter. She was blooming, and he could see that soon he would indeed have to find her a husband. There would be many suitors for a princess as easy on the eye as Amma. It certainly would not hurt her to have a taste of a battle camp, he thought to himself. ‘But, I had imagined that you would keep Gisila company here.’
‘Oh.’ Amma’s hopes sunk.
Lothar stroked his beard, and, picking out a piece of roasted lamb that had fallen into it, he popped it into his mouth. He noted his daughter’s disappointed face and an idea sparked. ‘But of course, if Gisila were to come along as well, then you could keep each other company,’ he mused. ‘And, as you say, Saala is far enough away from where we will attack Haaron, so you will both be perfectly safe, I’m sure,’ he smiled. ‘Mmmm, I think that is a good idea you have there, my daughter. I’m sure that Gisila will thank you for it!’
Amma squirmed. As pleased as she was to have convinced her father to bring her along, she didn’t imagine that Gisila would be thanking her at all.
‘No.’
His father had a way of making a ‘no’ impossible to argue against. Something about the set of his mouth, the slant of his sharp, blue eyes made his ‘no’ an immovable object.
Eadmund sighed.
‘You really think your wife would enjoy having that girl here again? Parading your mistake around the fort? Dangling him in front of her every day?’ Eirik wondered. ‘You would put Jael through that?’
Eadmund leaned back in his chair, so unsettled by the thought of Evaine and his son that he could barely see straight. ‘You think Jael would mind so much?’
Eirik grunted as he bent down to remove his boots. ‘You tell me, she’s your wife!’ He looked up, frowning. ‘If she were mine, I would not wish to incur her wrath. Especially after seeing what she did today with those legs of hers! I have no idea how she twisted herself around like that. Like a wild cat!’
Eadmund didn’t appreciate the reminder.
‘Here, tug on this boot for me,’ Eirik grumbled, annoyed by the damp leather’s reluctance to part from his wet sock. ‘Now look,’ he said as Eadmund eased the boot off. ‘Imagine how you would feel if she brought that man, Aleksander, here to stay. For good. And not only that but say he brought their child with him. By the look on your face these past few days, I can imagine how that would go.’
Eadmund bit down on a fresh burst of irritation at just the mention of that name.
‘So, how do you think bringing them here would make Jael feel?’ Eirik asked. ‘What would that do to her position? You would undermine her. Unsettle her. She would look as miserable as you do right now. Every single day.’
Eadmund wanted his father to be wrong, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t even sure he was serious about bringing Evaine back. Not for her sake, although he certainly felt guilty for his part in her banishment. But the baby. Sigmund. His son. How could he just abandon him? ‘Then I will go there. Visit him.’
‘Why?’ Eirik looked cross now. ‘Why stir a pot full of bees when you don’t need to? Are you looking to be stung?’
‘He’s my son!’
‘And?’
‘What does that mean?’ Eadmund asked angrily, relieved to be in Eirik’s private chamber and not in front of all the eyes and ears of Oss. ‘You don’t think I have a responsibility to care for him?’
‘No,’ Eirik insisted. ‘Yo
u have a responsibility to Oss. To your wife. He was a mistake. A bastard. His mother’s problem. Not yours.’
Eadmund’s mouth hung open.
‘What? You think that is cruel?’ Eirik scoffed. ‘You will be king here before long, my son. And kings must be cruel and just, and everything in between. But always, always, kings must put their kingdom first!’
‘What has that got to do with my son?’
‘You bring that boy back here, with his mother... that girl?’ Eirik bent forward, seeking Eadmund’s eyes. ‘That girl is more trouble than you know. If you bring her here, you will put this kingdom at risk. I am certain of it.’
Eadmund stared blankly at his father, puzzled by the ferocity of his argument. But then again, Eirik had always disliked Evaine. There was no reason he would ever like her child, except for the fact that Sigmund Skalleson was his grandson.
And that made him part of Oss’ future, whether Eirik liked it or not.
‘She is cooler,’ Biddy smiled reassuringly from her stool by the fire. ‘I’ve been rubbing that evil salve over her chest all day. I think it’s helping.’
‘I can smell it!’ Jael grimaced as she sat down on the bed. She touched Edela’s hand, sighing. ‘It’s hard to think about much else. Not while she’s like this. Not when she won’t even open her eyes.’
‘But you must,’ Biddy warned her. ‘You have a lot of responsibility now. You can’t worry about Edela. She wouldn’t want you to. She would want you to focus on the battle, wouldn’t she?’ Biddy directed this at Aleksander as she ran an anxious hand through her flyaway curls.
‘Of course she would,’ Aleksander said sadly. ‘She hates a fuss.’
‘She does, that’s true,’ Jael murmured as she kissed her grandmother’s warm head, leaving the bed to go and sit by the fire. She was cold, her arm was aching, and she hadn’t seen Eadmund all afternoon. Jael groaned as she lowered herself into a chair, smiling as Vella came padding over and put her paws on her knee. Jael picked her up, absentmindedly stroking her thick, grey coat. Ido sat far away, ignoring her, waiting by the door.
Biddy stood up. ‘I think I’ll make us all some warm milk before I get into bed. What do you think?’
Aleksander walked over to the fire, smiling. ‘Warm milk?’ He hadn’t enjoyed that bedtime favourite since Biddy and Jael had left Andala. Memories came rushing back of sitting around the fire in their miserable, cold cottage together. ‘It’s been a long time’, he sighed, plonking himself down in Eadmund’s chair.
Jael opened her mouth to suggest he move, but Eadmund wasn’t there to be offended, so she closed it. There were simply too many things in her head, all competing for her attention. She didn’t have the energy to think of Eadmund as well. Not now.
Biddy brought a small cauldron of milk to the fire and hung it from the hook, suspending it over the flames. ‘You two watch that. I’m going to check on the chickens. They’re making a lot of noise for this time of night.’
Aleksander made to stand up, but Biddy shooed him back down into the chair. ‘I can manage a hungry fox or two, don’t you worry about that,’ she muttered with a twinkle in her eye. ‘Just don’t let that milk boil over!’ And grabbing her cloak from a peg near the door, she headed outside.
‘How bad are things?’ Jael wondered. ‘For Gisila and Axl? Having to live with Lothar?’
Aleksander squirmed. ‘Not so bad for Axl, I would say. Your mother? I imagine she spends all her days thinking of ways to kill herself.’
Jael felt a twinge of pity. ‘Well, who could blame her with that giant slug writhing all over her every night.’
Aleksander cringed. ‘No! Don’t make me imagine Lothar naked!’
Jael laughed, screwing up her face. ‘Well, hopefully, he only comes for her in the dark!’
Eadmund pushed open the door, watching as Jael and Aleksander giggled away to each other like children. He tried not to frown. Tried not to notice that Aleksander was in his chair.
‘Where have you been all day?’ Jael wondered irritably, masking her relief that he was back. ‘We’ve already eaten.’
‘So have I,’ Eadmund mumbled as he took off his cloak, bending down to pat Ido who was wiggling himself sideways with joy. ‘I was with my father. We ate together.’
‘Oh.’
It was awkward, the silence that crept around them all. The sounds of the house suddenly became louder: Edela’s hoarse breathing, the spitting of the fire.
‘Well, don’t let me interrupt you. I was just heading to bed.’
Jael frowned, annoyed at herself for not having smoothed things over with Eadmund yet; they were becoming more wrinkled by the moment. Tomorrow, she told herself; she would do it tomorrow. He was festering, and she couldn’t blame him. She remembered how it had felt to watch him with Evaine. ‘Are you sure you don’t want some hot milk first?’ she asked in an attempt to make things right.
Eadmund looked wistfully towards the fire, shaking his head. ‘No. We have a long day trying to sort the catapults out tomorrow, so I’ll get some sleep. Goodnight.’ And, barely looking at his wife, and not even acknowledging Aleksander, he turned and disappeared into the bedchamber.
‘What did I tell you about that milk!’ Biddy exclaimed as she came inside, rushing towards the cauldron. ‘One job,’ she muttered. ‘You only had one job!’ And grumbling away to herself, she hurried to unhook the cauldron, taking it to the kitchen to cool the milk down.
Aleksander laughed and looked at Jael, but she had turned towards the bedchamber, watching as the door closed.
Eadmund sat down on the bed as Ido jumped onto the furs, making a little nest for himself, ready for sleep.
He pulled off his boots and sighed.
Nothing felt right.
That was his wife out there. In his house. With another man. And it would be completely ridiculous of him to rush out and demand Aleksander get up out of his chair and go and stay somewhere else. Not with Edela so ill. Not when he was Jael’s oldest friend. Her family.
He yawned and dropped his head, pulling off his trousers. The leather strap with his son’s hair fell to the floor. Frowning, he picked it up, holding it in his hand, staring at that tiny blonde lock.
So very small. Just like he must be.
His father was right, though. He had run every option through his mind and come to the same conclusion as Eirik. It would destroy everything he had with Jael to bring Sigmund here. But... how could he just abandon his own flesh and blood?
Eadmund sighed and slipped the leather strap under his pillow. He slid under the furs, confused. He had to put it all out of his mind.
He needed to let his son go.
7
There was a storm.
It was almost too dark to see, but Eadmund had followed the wailing sound to a door. He was certain that it was a door.
‘Evaine!’ he panicked. ‘Evaine!’ Eadmund felt frantically around the rough panels of wood, and there it was: a handle. His cold fingers fumbling, he turned it and pushed open the creaking door.
Evaine turned, her tear-filled eyes bursting with surprise. ‘Eadmund! Help me, please. Please! He won’t move!’
Eadmund hurried over to her as she knelt on the reeds. There was only one lamp in the cottage, its meagre flame blowing about on the whim of the wind as it rushed down the smoke hole and in through the walls.
There was no fire.
Eadmund fell to the floor next to Evaine, his breath rushing from his mouth in great clouds of smoky air. Sigmund lay there on a swaddling cloth.
Blue.
Evaine was screaming next to him. ‘Help me, Eadmund! Help me wake him up. Please! He won’t open his eyes!’
Eadmund was numb. He wanted to turn away from the horror that was quickly shutting down every part of him. Instead, he reached out a hand, trying to ignore Evaine’s screeching or his own best instincts, which knew...
His hand shaking, he touched the icy skin of the baby and shuddered. He pulled his hand away, rocking bac
k on his heels, pain flooding his body.
‘Eadmund, please!’ Evaine begged, grabbing his sleeve. ‘Please, save him! She wouldn’t help me. She just left us here. Please, Eadmund! Help me! You must help me!’
Jael woke with a smile.
She had slept deeply and dreamed freely for the first time in days. Of Eadmund. And Eskild’s Cave. Its secret hot-water pool was one of their favourite places to disappear to together. She stretched languidly, ignoring her cold toes, remembering her dream; how they had slipped into the hot water, naked, kissing under the shimmering sky of tiny blue lights.
Jael rolled over, her smile fading, surprised to find that Eadmund wasn’t there.
‘And?’ Jaeger frowned.
Meena had stumbled, mumbled, and tapped her way through a rambling explanation that had ended up nowhere he could understand at all. His patience was running away with speed.
‘Well, I, I... found this,’ Meena stuttered, at last, pulling a tiny scrap of vellum from her purse.
Jaeger frowned and snatched it from her. ‘It looks familiar,’ he breathed, his amber eyes suddenly alert. He rushed to the table and opened the book. Flicking through the ancient pages, he eventually found what he was looking for. ‘Do you see it?’ he asked impatiently, glaring at her.
Meena leaned over, squinting, uncomfortably close to Jaeger; so close that she could feel the furious heat as it rose from him. She looked from the book to the scrap of vellum, and her eyes bulged. ‘It’s the same!’ she exclaimed. ‘The same sort of symbols.’
‘It is,’ Jaeger marvelled. He turned to her, his eyes alive with hope. ‘Where did you get this?’
Meena gulped. ‘My grandmother’s chest,’ she said quietly, her cheeks reddening with the guilt of her crime. ‘She had it hidden inside an old book. I just... I remembered seeing something like this. I knew I had.’
