The Burning Sea

by A. E. Rayne

  ‘Why?’

  Eirik leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees, his head heavy in his hands. ‘She killed Eskild.’

  Jael’s eyes widened in shock. ‘What?’

  ‘I could not prove it. To this very day, I cannot prove it. But I know she did. It was her revenge upon me. And my mistake.’

  ‘But why? How?’

  ‘Eskild asked me to get rid of her. Morana had never been nice to anyone, but she hated Eskild most of all. Eskild endured it, but what she couldn’t endure was what Morana was getting very good at doing. Dark things, hurting people. Helping people hurt others with her magic. So, finally, I sent her away,’ he said. ‘I never wanted to know where she went. Morac took care of it. I would have had her killed if not for him.’ He sighed, the regret a stabbing pain, still fresh. ‘A few years later, she sent word to him that she was carrying a child. A child she didn’t want. She offered it to him. They had struggled for children, Morac and Runa.’ He frowned, remembering what Morac had told him about Fyn’s parentage. ‘So, Morac was eager to take the child and raise it as their own. I didn’t like the idea. But Morac... I owed him a lot. There were many debts to repay,’ he said mutely. ‘They left for a few months, and returned with this baby.’ He shook his head. ‘It was never right, though, her daughter being here. And now look at what has come from it. And somehow, I know, this was her plan all along.’

  Jael was caught between wanting to tell Eirik everything that Edela and Aleksander had revealed, and not wanting him to feel worse because of it. She bit her lip. ‘But why do you think she killed Eskild? If she wasn’t on Oss, how did she do it?’

  ‘Eskild fell through the ice.’

  Jael blinked, surprised. Surprised too, that she didn’t know that already.

  ‘Why was she on the ice?’ Eirik asked sadly. ‘That is a question I have never been able to answer.’ He stared intently at Jael, his eyes tight with pain. ‘She had started acting strangely. Having terrible dreams. Seeing things that weren’t there.’

  The wind whistled mournfully down the smoke hole. Despite the heat from the fire, Jael shivered.

  ‘I was too busy planning an invasion of Brekka. Preoccupied. She was pregnant you see.’ His eyes were misty as he turned them towards his lap. ‘I thought that was the reason. We had lost twins the previous winter. A boy and a girl. Eskild had not recovered. Was not right.’ He picked at his fingernails, his voice disappearing into nothing. ‘Someone saw her wandering across the ice. She was far out, so far away from the beach. They found Eadmund, and then me, and we went after her, but it was too late. She went through the ice. We couldn’t save her.’ His voice wobbled as he rubbed at his eyes.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Jael said softly. ‘And you think that Morana did this? Twisted Eskild’s mind? Led her out there somehow?’

  ‘I do. I always have. I blamed her in drunken rages, but everyone thought I was going as mad as Eskild had.’ He swallowed hard. ‘They thought that... that she had killed herself. Just like Odila. They thought that the gods had put a curse upon me when I killed my father.’ He shook his head. ‘Perhaps they were right, I don’t know. But I do know that Morana killed her. Somehow. Eskild had been happy with me. The loss of the babies had broken her heart, but she would have recovered, I know she would have. Morana killed her, I’m certain.’

  ‘And now her daughter has Eadmund’s child.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Jael shook her head. ‘But what can we do?’

  II

  Unravelling

  9

  ‘You underestimate him,’ Bayla whispered in her husband’s ear.

  It was not a gentle whisper. Her voice was heavy with threat.

  Haaron could hear her distaste for him, thick and unctuous as it coated her bitter tongue. It made him sad. He still loved her, still wanted her, but she was far away from him; had been for years. His shoulders slumped. ‘Well, let us both hope that is true, as Skorro will be a test for him. Varna promises me that.’

  Bayla smiled at Jaeger who stood, waiting near his ship, saying goodbye to Haegen, Karsten, and their wives. He looked as displeased as she did; both of them with their forced smiles, their lips pressed tightly together.

  So much pretence, of family.

  Berard stumbled into view, nervous and awkward in his ill-fitting mail. He had suffered through a sweating sickness over the winter and had lost a lot of weight. The slimmer figure suited him, but his old mail did not.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Haaron hissed, rolling his eyes impatiently. ‘It does not impress your men to be late, keeping them waiting around. At least Jaeger was here early to show some sign of leadership!’ He frowned as Berard lugged a large sack over his shoulder. ‘And what is in that?’

  ‘My things, Father,’ Berard puffed, trying to catch his breath. ‘I wasn’t sure what to bring. I didn’t know how long we might be away.’

  ‘Well, hopefully, you won’t be away long at all,’ Bayla said with one eyebrow arched in her husband’s direction. ‘The Islanders have never given us much trouble before. And the Brekkans haven’t dared to go near Skorro in years. I’m not sure why anyone thinks it will be such an effort this time.’

  Berard’s sack was cumbersome. He was yet to marry, and his mother had never been interested in mothering – him, at least – so he had always lacked a woman’s touch. A wife or a mother would have known that clothes were important, that he needn’t pack his own goblet, and that he should have packed everything into his chest instead like the rest of the men. He was clever, but clumsy on a practical level.

  Haaron gave Bayla a knowing look, and she barely concealed a snort of disdain. Berard sighed, thinking it best to leave them to it. His sack was straining his back, and he needed to get onto the ship. He struggled down the pier, towards his large brothers and their elegant wives.

  Nicolene Dragos didn’t look Berard’s way as he approached. She was dressed in a light-blue silk dress, her blonde hair cascading in long braided loops across her back, her neck draped in Siluran silverwork of the highest quality. But for all her finery and poise, she was a thin, scowling creature, with no warmth in her face at all.

  Nicolene clung to her husband, Karsten, but her eyes were fixed on Jaeger. Berard didn’t blame her. Most women found it impossible not to stare at his brother. He was the epitome of what he assumed a man was supposed to be, with his towering height, his broad, thick shoulders, his sharply chiselled jaw and cheekbones. Those brooding eyes. But Berard wasn’t sure that men were supposed to possess as much darkness as Jaeger held inside his soul.

  ‘I thought we would have to leave without you, Brother!’ Jaeger smiled.

  He appeared even wearier, if that was possible, Berard thought to himself. But happy. No one looked forward to a battle more than Jaeger, except possibly Karsten, especially if Jael Furyck was going to be on the opposing side. ‘I was just trying to gather my things, trying to think of what I would need,’ Berard mumbled, dropping his sack to the wooden boards of the pier with a clang.

  ‘What did you pack in there, Berard?’ Haegen laughed and winked at his petite wife, Irenna, who stood next to him, her dark hair pulled back tightly from her pale face in a twisted bun. ‘I told you that we must find him a wife before it’s too late!’

  Berard reddened under all their attention.

  ‘Oh, leave him alone!’ Irenna scolded. ‘I’m sure Berard will find himself a wife when he’s ready. Better to wait for the right woman, than settle for the wrong one. She would only make you miserable.’ Irenna couldn’t help her soft grey-blue eyes from wandering towards Nicolene.

  ‘Well, it may be too late for you, Berard,’ Karsten laughed. ‘Perhaps you’re about to meet your end on Skorro?’

  Jaeger frowned, irritated. ‘Or perhaps it is that Berard will fight Jael Furyck and take an eye from her to bring back for you?’

  Karsten clenched his jaw, his clear, blue eye snapping to his youngest brother. ‘If he could even find her face with a sword, I wo
uld drop to my knees, for that would truly be a miracle!’

  Jaeger stepped forward.

  Berard hunched away.

  Haegen stepped in. ‘Anyone who gets near Jael Furyck is going to be a lucky man indeed. And that man, whoever he is, will need to be quick with his thoughts and his sword, for you will only get one chance with her.’ He turned to Karsten. ‘I’m sure you’d agree, Brother?’

  Karsten instinctively touched his eye-patch, bile flooding his mouth at the thought of what she had done to him. ‘It’s a sea battle,’ he said shortly, ‘so, you’d best practice your skills with a bow if you want to get anywhere near her.’

  Bayla and Haaron had finally stopped bickering long enough to join the rest of the family. Bayla reached up and dragged Jaeger into her arms. ‘Take care of yourself. Please. Don’t do anything foolish.’ She stepped back and stared up at his scowling face. ‘Promise me.’

  Jaeger rolled his eyes and glanced around impatiently. He could see his mother’s lip quivering, and was desperate to be gone before she said anything more. ‘I will. Of course,’ he muttered without even listening to his own words. ‘Berard, hurry up and grab that sack. We’re the last ones now!’

  ‘Well, I hardly think they’re going to leave without you,’ Haaron growled. There was no affection in his eyes as he considered his two youngest sons. His standards were high. He wanted a victory. How they achieved that, and what they sacrificed to deliver it, he would have to endure. Hopefully, Bayla could do the same. And not blame him for the outcome.

  Haaron clapped Jaeger on the arm as Bayla hugged Berard. ‘Do not underestimate your enemy,’ he instructed. ‘You’re a Dragos. Remember that. Skorro has never been lost to us. So, it’s up to you to ensure that remains the case.’

  Jaeger looked down on Haaron with scorn. He didn’t care what his father thought, he tried to convince himself. He would defeat the Islanders, then return to the book.

  And then he would destroy his father.

  Jael wasn’t listening.

  She had filled the last few days with so many tasks, determined not to give her thoughts any room to wander.

  Towards Eadmund.

  She had kept her head down, barely smiling, not meeting anyone’s sympathetic eyes.

  News of Eadmund’s disappearance had raced around the fort like a furious wind, and no one knew quite what to say to her, which was just as well, as she was determined not to dwell on it for even a moment.

  ‘Are you not listening, then?’ Thorgils wondered gently. ‘Jael?’

  They were standing in front of the fort, deciding whether to take the horses for a ride or if the dark clouds in the distance that threatened a storm, were worth paying serious attention to.

  ‘What did you say?’ she muttered distractedly, turning away from the wind to face him.

  ‘I said that it doesn’t look good. Perhaps we need to get those ships onto the beach?’

  ‘Agreed,’ she nodded, turning back around to run her eye over the grim sky.

  ‘And definitely no ride.’

  Jael didn’t move. Or say another word.

  Thorgils followed her gaze. He squinted. His eyes had never been particularly strong, but there was definitely a ship entering the harbour. ‘You think it’s him?’

  ‘I do,’ Jael said distantly, desperate to disappear back into the fort. ‘We should go and greet him.’

  Thorgils’ body froze, his face twisting with discomfort. ‘Are you sure?’

  But Jael had already started walking into the stiff wind, down the muddy hill towards the beach. Her shoulders were tight, her dark hair whipping behind her as she stepped onto the stones.

  Beorn had already decided that the ships being tested in the harbour needed to get out of the water. And fast. With Aleksander’s help, he was organising the men on the beach to bring them in.

  Aleksander turned to see Jael and Thorgils making their way towards him. He smiled sadly. Jael had taken Eadmund’s sudden disappearance badly. Her lack of words spoke louder to him than anyone else. He could almost feel the pain of her loss as it mingled with his own.

  ‘Here she comes again,’ Beorn grumbled and hurried away.

  Aleksander laughed. ‘You’re getting very unpopular down here!’

  Thorgils shot him a look that was almost as serious as Jael’s and Aleksander turned to see what she was staring at.

  ‘Don’t worry, we’re bringing those ships in now,’ he assured her.

  Jael didn’t reply as she walked across the stones, Thorgils following closely in her wake.

  Aleksander spotted the ship as it suddenly appeared from behind another, rolling its way towards the sandy foreshore. He saw Eadmund in the bow, helping to take down the tall, curled dragon prow. Resisting the urge to follow Jael, he stayed back. There was nothing he could do to make this any better for her.

  Jael wanted to rush at the ship as Edrun’s men jumped out into the cold water and hurried to pull it onto the beach. She wanted to grab Eadmund, scream at him, demand to know what he had been thinking. Although a small part of her was relieved that he was back, most of her was ready to throw him to the ground and demand answers.

  ‘Dig your toes into the stones, my friend,’ Thorgils advised, sensing Jael’s whole body preparing to launch. ‘Remember what you always tell me. Don’t let your heart overwhelm your head. Keep thinking.’ He tapped the side of his own head, his eyes fixed firmly on Eadmund as he jumped down onto the sand, then turned back to the ship and lifted out the small, white-cloaked figure of Evaine Gallas.

  Eadmund placed Evaine gently on the beach, checked on the baby she was cradling close to her chest, beneath a thick wrap of fur, then ushered her forward.

  Towards Jael.

  Eadmund swallowed. Jael’s face was unreadable. Thorgils’ was not. He looked furious. Eadmund glanced away, concentrating on helping Evaine navigate the slippery stones and the buffeting wind.

  They stopped a few paces before Jael and Thorgils.

  Jael dug her boots into the stones, trying to stop the poisonous words she was rolling around her mouth from leaving the tip of her tongue. She shivered as the wind wailed around them; the only noise there was now. The beach was silent. Jael could sense them all watching. She wanted to scream but instead spoke quietly. ‘You’re back, then?’

  Eadmund coughed and braved his wife’s eyes. ‘Yes.’ He tried to smile. ‘We are. You remember Evaine?’

  Evaine bobbed her head, barely glancing at Jael.

  Jael kept her eyes focused on Eadmund. ‘Your father doesn’t want her here. He told you that.’

  Thorgils could feel himself tensing as he stared at the girl who was almost entirely submerged beneath her cloak as it flapped around her.

  ‘Well, I shall speak to him about it,’ Eadmund said calmly. ‘She couldn’t stay on Rikka. The baby... he is not well. And Morana’s cottage... it was no place for a child to be raised.’

  Jael’s expression didn’t alter. There wasn’t a drop of sympathy in her hard, green eyes, nor a hint of a smile on her pursed lips. ‘Well then, you had better take your visitors up to the fort.’

  ‘I can do that if you like,’ Thorgils offered quickly, wanting to give Jael and Eadmund a chance to talk away from that vile girl.

  Evaine’s eyes flared, and she turned towards Eadmund to protest, but he patted her arm. ‘You go with Thorgils. He’ll take you to your mother. I’ll be along to check on you both soon.’

  Evaine blinked rapidly, turning those big blue eyes towards her tiny bundle, which she pulled even closer to her chest. She nodded reluctantly and allowed Thorgils to lead her away.

  Eadmund, worried, watched them go.

  Jael stared at him, demanding his attention with the sheer strength of her will. She was angry, so angry that she had to bite her teeth together to stop herself from yelling.

  Eadmund turned to her at last. He had been long enough married to Jael Furyck to know that he had set fire to a great fury inside her; a fire that looked rea
dy to explode. But no matter the consequences, he knew that he’d done the right thing.

  He had saved his son.

  ‘Please,’ Runa implored as Fyn headed for the door. ‘Don’t go just yet. Your father won’t be back until much later. He is with Eirik in the hall. Hopefully, he’ll be there for the rest of the day.’

  ‘I don’t want to be here when he returns,’ Fyn said firmly. ‘I just came to check on you. To make sure that you were alright.’

  Runa sighed and reached up to touch his face. She was reaching further these days. He was still growing, looking more like a man every day. But she was still his mother and wasn’t ready to lose him again. ‘You have no need to worry about me,’ she insisted. ‘Your father will return to Rikka soon, to have a house built for Evaine. He will be staying away for some time. You can come home.’

  Fyn’s eyebrows rose at that. His mother obviously hadn’t heard about Eadmund’s disappearance and what everyone feared would happen. He didn’t want to disappoint her.

  ‘But you shouldn’t even be thinking about that,’ Runa said sadly. ‘With this battle coming... you should make sure you’re doing everything you can to prepare. I want you to be safe.’

  Fyn sighed. He had had this conversation with his mother so many times. She still saw him through Morac’s eyes. And Morac had always seen a worthless child. Fyn was grateful that Jael had not. He welcomed this battle, desperate for a chance to rewrite the story that Morac had told everyone: that he was a boy not worth bothering over. A foolish, clumsy boy. Never a man.

  Fyn wrapped his calloused hands around the grip of his sword. ‘Mother... I can’t promise you anything, except that I will stay by Jael’s side and follow her orders.’

  ‘Well, that is something,’ Runa supposed. ‘She will not let anything happen to you, I’m sure.’

  The door flew open suddenly, banging into Fyn. And there, standing in front of a wind-swept Thorgils, was Evaine; a ghostly creature dressed all in white, a wailing child cradled in her arms.