by A. E. Rayne
Axl smiled and pulled her closer, his head full of memories of his father and Jael and their shared disappointment in him. He was barely listening as Amma murmured into his chest. He was too busy thinking of how he would show them all that they had been wrong.
‘Gone?’ Edela’s face grew even paler. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes,’ Jael murmured, her lips barely moving; numb, like the rest of her. ‘He was seen leaving early this morning. On a ship. To Rikka.’
‘Oh.’ Edela’s eyes were weary, but as she glanced around at Eydis, Jael, Aleksander, and Biddy, she felt the urgency of the situation. She pulled the bed fur up to her shoulders. ‘There is so much to tell you, but do not worry, we are not too late,’ she said with a reassuring smile, patting Jael’s hand. ‘Because you are still here, and so am I.’
‘Well, then, why did you go to Tuura, of all places?’ Jael asked desperately, hating even the feel of that word on her tongue.
‘To follow the breadcrumbs,’ Edela sighed. ‘Of which there were many.’ She leaned back against the pillows and told them about her dreams of the beheaded girls, of the taunting voice that came to tease her with threats of darkness. Her visits to the temple.
The book.
The sword.
Jael’s mouth fell open. ‘My sword was made 300 years ago?’ She shook her head. ‘For me? Me?’
‘More than 300 years ago. Nearly 400. And yes. For you.’
Jael sat back on the bed in shock. ‘But why? What am I supposed to do with it?’
‘Now, that I don’t know,’ Edela frowned. ‘We had to leave Tuura before we had all the answers.’ She glanced quickly at Aleksander. Jael didn’t need to know about his mother’s role in any of it. Not yet. Neither of them was any closer to discovering what part Fianna Lehr had played in that night in Tuura, or what reason she might have had to harm Jael. There was no need to complicate things any further.
‘There is a prophecy,’ Aleksander began, sensing Edela’s energy fade. ‘About you. The elders know of it, but they wouldn’t tell Edela what it says, what is supposed to happen. All we can do is assume that something bad is coming. Tuura is turning into a fortress. You wouldn’t recognise it. They have an army, soldiers, walls higher than a castle. And they made that sword. For you.’
Jael fingered the round moonstone that sat at the very tip of her sword. Toothpick. The sword Edela had given her the day she married Eadmund. ‘Is Eadmund in danger?’ Jael asked suddenly.
Edela shook her head. ‘No, not that I know of.’ She coughed, and it rattled her bones. ‘No, this is not about Eadmund. You are the one in danger.’
Eydis’ eyes were wide as she listened. She hadn’t wanted to intrude. She had wanted to leave with Fyn and Thorgils, but Jael had insisted she stay.
‘Danger from what?’ Jael wondered.
Edela, tiring fast, blinked at Aleksander, who continued the story. ‘From Evaine Gallas. And her mother, Morana.’
Eydis gasped. ‘Her mother?’
‘She was not raised by her, was she?’ Edela asked. ‘But she is living with her now?’
‘Yes,’ Eydis said quietly. ‘And that is where Eadmund has gone.’
‘But why?’ Biddy wondered. ‘Why did he just leave without a word? That’s not like him at all.’
Jael raised an eyebrow in her direction.
‘Well, not anymore it’s not,’ Biddy insisted. ‘Not for a long time now. Not since you cured him.’
‘The baby,’ Eydis said. ‘Morac told him about the baby. She has had a little boy. That is what I saw.’
Jael felt as though she was caught in a gathering storm. She couldn’t think for all the noise swarming around her head. ‘I suppose that’s why Morac came.’
‘Morac?’ Aleksander looked puzzled.
‘Morana’s brother,’ Jael explained. ‘Evaine’s father, or at least he has raised her as his own. I have no idea who he truly is to her now.’ She shook her head. ‘But whatever the family connections, why does this Morana want to kill me? It’s obvious why Evaine would, but what does her mother want with me?’
‘We don’t know,’ Aleksander admitted with a sigh. ‘The prophecy, if we could ever find it, might tell us. It would explain what your purpose is, the purpose of the sword. But without it, all we have are the hopes of Edela’s dreams. And they have not been helpful lately, have they?’
Edela shook her weary head. ‘No. I sleep most nights with that evil voice trapping me in dark places. It’s as though she is stopping me from getting to my real dreams, the dreams I need to be having. I do not see as much as I used to. Not about what I need to, at least.’ She reached out and took Eydis’ hand, a twinkle in her eye. ‘So, I think I could use some help from you, Eydis. Together, perhaps we can find our way to more answers. To help Jael. And Eadmund.’
Eydis blinked. She had no experience. She couldn’t help. Could she? She trembled nervously, then remembered her dream of Eadmund and Evaine. If there was something she could do to stop it happening, then she would.
Anything to stop that from happening.
Gisila clung to her son, her tears flowing like a spring stream. She couldn’t stop them. He was all she had now. He was just a boy, she thought, ignoring the fact that he towered over her and had filled out recently to look just like every other man he was going into battle with. But he was her boy who had loved her so much, who had always been kind to her when Jael had ignored her in favour of Ranuf. Axl had been all hers. And Gisila had doted on him. Perhaps that had been a mistake? Would he be too soft to do what he needed to survive?
It was hard to watch his mother cry, to feel her chest heaving against him with such pain. But at the same time, Axl wished she had a little more faith that he would survive what was coming; that his death wasn’t the foregone conclusion she appeared to think it was. ‘I will see you in Saala, Mother,’ he reminded her, easing her out of his arms, imagining Gant’s impatient eyes boring holes in the back of his head.
It was a dull, grey morning and the sky was already threatening rain, but as miserable as the day promised to be for their ride, he couldn’t have been more excited to begin.
‘Yes, of course,’ Gisila sniffed, wiping her eyes with a very damp cloth and stepping back. She looked quickly at Gant, who gave her the slightest of nods as he mounted his horse. ‘But we will not have the chance to say a proper goodbye when we are there. You will not have time for me then, I’m sure.’
‘Mother!’ Axl put his hands on her shoulders and bent down to kiss her wet cheek. ‘I will be fine. I’m a Furyck. Never forget that. Just look after yourself. Keep safe.’ He stood up straight, gave her a crooked smile that was only half-filled with bravado, and swung himself up onto his saddlebag-laden horse. Adjusting himself in the saddle, he turned his horse’s head away, following Gant. He knew Amma was there, with Lothar, but they had said their goodbyes, and he did not wish to do so again in public.
Osbert looked away from Gisila’s miserable face, back to his father, trying to take in some of what he was saying. Lothar was issuing random, last-minute orders, suddenly frantic to ensure that everything would be as he wanted for his own arrival. The bulk of their forces were leaving now. They were taking the heaviest of their weapons, horses, food, servants, and some of their women, who would cook and clean and comfort as required. Lothar would follow in a ship, bringing more weapons and supplies, and Amma and Gisila. It was a much more comfortable way to travel, and quicker too. Their journey would take only two days, whereas the marchers were facing six long days on the road.
Osbert had been annoyed to find out that he wasn’t accompanying Lothar on board Storm Chaser, but then again, his father had tasked him with leading their men into battle, and it made sense for him to show his endeavour and willingness to lead from the start.
‘You will listen to Gant, of course,’ Lothar muttered, trying to loosen his stubborn belt, which had tightened considerably after his large breakfast. ‘For all your eagerness, you lack real experience. And
without me there to guide you, I have instructed Gant to watch over you. So, if he thinks you need a kick back into line, then he has my authority to do so. Understood?’
Osbert frowned, cross at the public rebuke; crosser still at the smile that grew on his sister’s face as she listened next to him. ‘Of course, Father,’ he muttered through tightly formed lips.
‘Good!’ Lothar exclaimed with a relieved grunt as he finally undid his belt, his bloated guts sagging contentedly over his straining trousers. ‘Then you had better hurry up, as everyone appears to be leaving without you!’ He gave Osbert a brief nod and turned to Amma, who was suddenly downcast, having just caught a glimpse of Axl’s face as he followed Gant through the gates. ‘Do not worry my dear,’ he assured her, squeezing her hand. ‘Your brother will be fine. He is a Furyck, and Furycks do not fall in battle!’
Amma forced herself to smile, but her father wasn’t even looking. He was already waddling towards Gisila. Amma sighed sadly, fighting the urge to run after Axl and remind him about Osbert. She knew better than anyone that all of Osbert’s weaknesses added up to make him a very dangerous enemy indeed.
To both of them.
‘And over here?’ Jael wondered, pointing to the line on the map that marked the cliffs of Osterhaaven, the land her Furyck ancestors had abandoned 850 years ago when devastating volcanoes had rendered it an uninhabitable lump of ash-covered rock. ‘How far can we go before we risk the ships?’ Jael was trying to keep her mind on the meeting she and Eirik were having with the helmsmen, but it kept wandering back to the things Edela and Aleksander had revealed. Too many things. She couldn’t get them out of her head as they fought against each another, vying for her attention.
‘There are deep shelves of rock there,’ Villas, a craggy-faced helmsman mumbled, pointing at the map. He looked to Otto, ignoring Jael entirely. ‘We need to stay a good distance from the cliffs. At least three to four ship lengths to be safe.’
Jael frowned. She could certainly see a way things might work. In theory. But theories didn’t matter much in battle; she knew that from experience. Still, there was hope now that they had the sea-fire; hope they could survive Haaron’s arrows. Of which, there would be many.
‘Perhaps we divide the fleet?’ Eirik wondered.
‘Well, that was my thought before, but now we have the sea-fire –’
‘If it works,’ Otto interrupted.
There were a few nods and grunts from the grey-and-white heads around him. It appeared that being a helmsman was an older man’s game on Oss. Or perhaps it was that the sea weathered you quickly, like the barnacled hull of a fisherman’s boat. Whatever the case, there was not much interest amongst the gathered men in what Jael thought about anything, apart from Beorn, who happened to dislike Otto intensely and was happy to support anyone leading his ships into battle who wasn’t him.
Jael glared at Otto. She was ready to unleash her temper upon anyone who pushed just a little too hard. ‘You have seen that it works,’ she said harshly. ‘So, I’m not sure why you’d say that? We just need to ensure that the jars stay safe, so we don’t explode. And Beorn has already found a simple way to do that.’
‘And the catapults are easy enough to put together,’ Beorn added. ‘We have tested Sea Bear with everything on board, and there is not much loss of steerage at all. It will be a bit tougher on the arms, but the men have been training for that. We’ll be ready.’
‘And the final sails?’ Jael wondered, remembering that they were still waiting on two sails to be completed. It took months to weave a new sail out of thick, homespun wool, and Beorn had only realised halfway through winter that two of their sails had rotted through.
‘Almost done,’ Beorn assured her. ‘My wife is overseeing the weavers. She thinks they will be ready later today.’
‘That is good to hear,’ Eirik smiled. His confidence had risen after Aleksander’s demonstration, and despite his own misgivings, he was eager to leave for Saala. ‘We will meet at the beach tomorrow afternoon, then, once the sails have been fitted. Jael and I can go over the ships together.’
Otto rolled his eyes at Villas. Eirik chose to ignore him. He had more things on his mind than needing to sort out petty squabbles and soothe bruised egos.
The men nodded and left, mumbling to each other from pursed, hairy lips.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to reinstate Otto?’ Jael wondered with a sigh.
‘They’ll be fine,’ Eirik insisted as he took his cup of ale up to his chair. ‘When the battle is underway they won’t care whose voice is commanding them. Those old fools certainly can’t think for themselves anymore! And I wouldn’t trust them to either. Especially Otto. Not after last time.’ He grimaced as he bent into the soft furs, feeling older by the day; sometimes imagining that having Vidar come to claim him would not be such a bad thing.
Jael didn’t look convinced as she turned towards him, her face troubled.
‘What has happened?’ Eirik wondered. ‘And where is Eadmund?’
Jael blinked, grasping for an answer that would keep Eirik calm, but her mind remained completely blank.
As much as Edela needed to sleep, she knew that she had been sleeping for too long. Perhaps it was too late now, for Eadmund at least. But what about Jael? The elderman had told her that she was the only one who could save Jael. But how?
She glanced at Eydis, who was sitting beside her, stroking one of the dogs. The grey one. Edela didn’t know its name. Aleksander had gone down to the beach to check on his men. Biddy had left to milk the goat. ‘You know this girl, Eydis. Much better than I ever will. I will need you to help me so that I can help Jael.’
Eydis raised her head and turned it towards Edela’s rasping voice. She sounded tired, Eydis thought. ‘But you are a true dreamer, and I’m just a...’
‘A what?’
‘I have had no training, apart from a little help,’ she began. ‘Entorp... he is a good friend, but he is not a dreamer.’
‘Is he not?’ Edela mused. She did not remember the man who had brought the stinking salve. He had slipped away and never returned. ‘But he is Tuuran. And wise. And useful to both of us, I’m sure. He may also have saved my life. You must take me to him soon so that we can all talk together. We three are Tuuran, and we must protect Jael from whatever those women are planning,’ she said quietly. ‘I am certain that I won’t be able to do it alone.’
Jael’s eyes bulged like a startled deer. ‘He... is...’ She swallowed and stared at Eirik, whose frown was starting to consume his entire face. ‘Gone.’
Eirik felt his body tense. ‘Gone?’ He put his ale to one side, ignoring his sudden desire to drain the whole cup. ‘Gone where?’
‘Rikka.’
Eirik’s eyes narrowed into slits. ‘Rikka?’ He shook his head. ‘This is Morac’s doing!’
‘Morac?’
‘How else would he get the idea that he must go to Rikka?’ Eirik was furious; furious that he hadn’t just booted Morac straight off the island. That was obviously his reason for coming: to turn Eadmund towards that girl again. He clenched his jaw. ‘And did you not try to stop him?’ he asked irritably.
Jael stared at him, still too stunned to feel a thing. ‘He was gone when I woke up.’
Eirik shook his head. ‘This is a bad thing, Jael,’ he muttered. ‘Why did he have to do this now? Now, when we are leaving in a few days! When all our attention must be on the battle with Haaron!’ He growled, then quickly looked around, but there were only servants nearby and none who were foolish enough to stop and listen.
‘It does not have to be so bad, does it?’ Jael tried to convince them both. ‘Perhaps he will just visit and return quickly? Perhaps he was just curious about the child?’
Eirik rolled his eyes and took a long drink. ‘Morac wanted me to have her back. That girl. To have her and the boy here so they could get away from the witch, Morana. I refused.’
‘Morana?’ Jael looked puzzled. ‘Why does she want to get away from
her? I thought Morana was her mother?’
Eirik spat a mouthful of ale all over his tunic. He lurched out of his chair, seized Jael by the arm and pulled her towards his private chamber.
Once inside, he closed the door quickly, leading Jael to the inviting fire and the chairs that waited there, far away from the ears that would no doubt be pressing themselves to the door before long.
‘What do you know of Morana Gallas?’ he hissed as they sat down. ‘Why do you think she is Evaine’s mother?’
‘My grandmother told me,’ Jael said plainly. ‘She had a dream about her. That she meant me harm.’
‘Who? Morana?’ Eirik frowned. ‘Well, she is so broken and twisted that I believe she means everyone harm. And yes, if she thought you were standing in Evaine’s way, I imagine she would do anything to remove you.’
‘You know her well, then?’
Eirik sighed, falling back into the past, into memories he no longer wanted any part of. ‘We were... lovers for a time. At different times. She was captivating when she was younger. But always strange.’ He stared into the flames, uncomfortable with such talk. ‘Morana wanted to be my queen. But I married Odila, which incensed her, although we continued to be together because Odila was not... very interested in me. But then I saw Eskild, Eadmund’s mother, and from that point on no other woman existed. Of course, you know what happened to Odila after I divorced her.’ He glanced at Jael, embarrassed. ‘But Morana... she just disappeared into herself. Into her books. Turning herself slowly into the witch she became.’
It started raining again, but Jael barely noticed the big drops as they fell down the smoke hole, splashing onto the flames. Her eyes were fixed on Eirik’s tense face.
‘I didn’t care, nor even notice, but she gradually developed a reputation. People began seeking her out when they wanted help to take revenge against a slight. Small things. Petty squabbles,’ he muttered. ‘But she was Morac’s sister. We had all grown up together, taken care of each other. I turned a blind eye when people brought it to my attention, which I shouldn’t have done.’
