The Burning Sea

by A. E. Rayne

  Berard kneaded his hands together, wishing he was back in the relative calm of Hest; the castle, the food, the sunshine. Skorro was damp and dull, loud and dirty, and, according to Varna Gallas, about to become a very dangerous place to be. He glanced up at his brother, never doubting Jaeger’s strength of will to get things done. But still... fate had a way of finding even the most determined soul wanting.

  Gant smiled at Axl. He reminded him of Ranuf, who had never enjoyed riding either. Horses got you places quickly, but after nearly six full days of sitting in an arse-numbing saddle, Axl’s patience had worn through. His lips were turned down, his shoulders slumped in a self-pitying heap. He was thirsty, cold, tired of being wet, could no longer feel his legs, and was missing Amma.

  ‘You look ready to cry,’ Gant grinned.

  Axl glared at him. ‘And who wouldn’t, after spending all this time listening to your terrible jokes. With no escape!’

  ‘Ha!’ Gant laughed. ‘So, going into battle is not as exciting as you imagined then?’

  ‘This is hardly battle,’ Axl sneered, ducking beneath a low-hanging branch.

  ‘There is much more to battles than swords and blood,’ Gant said sagely. ‘As you are finding out. And be grateful that you’re not one of the men who has spent the last six days on his feet, or your horse, who has been carrying your ungrateful arse from daybreak till dusk.’

  Axl felt a twinge of guilt as he glanced around at the columns of men straggling behind him, and his horse, who did indeed feel weary beneath his numb arse. None of them had a smile on their faces either. It had rained nearly every day of their journey, and no one was enjoying themselves, especially with Osbert in charge. He had no interest in pacing the men and had pushed them harder than Gant would have.

  It was not a good beginning.

  ‘We will be in Saala soon,’ Gant said encouragingly. ‘And we can all rest under Rexon’s roof while we wait for your uncle to arrive.’

  Axl started to roll his eyes, then stopped, for Lothar would be bringing Amma. And suddenly her idea to come along didn’t seem so terrible after all.

  Thorgils stood next to Fyn and Jael as they considered their ships, which were mostly full now. Eirik’s red banner of Ilvari, Ran’s three-headed sea monster, breaking slave shackles with her terrifying teeth, flapped angrily from each mast. ‘They look impressive.’

  Jael wasn’t so sure. ‘Perhaps. But useful, certainly.’

  ‘Will we have enough?’ Fyn wondered nervously. ‘They are so wealthy in Hest. Surely, Haaron will have built many more ships than last time?’

  ‘I’m sure he has,’ Jael agreed. ‘But a small army can always defeat a big one, and so the same follows with a fleet. It’s all about tactics.’

  ‘And we have some of those, do we?’ Thorgils asked tartly, nudging Jael.

  ‘Maybe one or two.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Fyn said, relieved. ‘I don’t want to die in my first battle.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ Thorgils lifted a bushy red eyebrow in his direction. ‘Feeling picky about how things should go, are we?’ he grunted. ‘Perhaps you’d like to stay here and hide behind your mother’s skirts? Keep your sister company?’

  Fyn frowned and fixed Thorgils with a sharp-eyed glare. He was getting tall, Jael thought, though he still only came up to Thorgils’ chin. ‘No, I just hope we stand a chance, that’s all. I want an opportunity.’

  ‘Ha!’ Thorgils laughed. ‘You will have plenty of opportunities, my friend. Opportunities for getting an arrow in your arse, in your eye, or in your bollocks if you don’t keep your shield up!’

  Aleksander wandered towards them, eager to get going. ‘Nearly ready?’ Conditions were perfect for sailing, and as much as he didn’t want to say goodbye to Jael again, he didn’t want to delay their departure either. In his short time on Oss, he’d discovered that the weather could turn foul in a heartbeat.

  ‘I think so,’ Jael murmured. She felt uptight. There were too many things on her mind, and she was worried that she had missed something. Lives were at stake. Most of the fighting men of Oss were leaving the island. She would be responsible for bringing them back.

  Jael spotted Sevrin talking to Otto. No doubt Otto was grumbling about her in Sevrin’s ear. Sevrin was the more level-headed of the two, so hopefully, he wasn’t taking too much notice. She needed to talk to him before they left. He would remain behind with a small garrison to guard the island, to keep the women and children safe, and, if needed, defend an attack from Haaron if they failed in their own. ‘I’ll be back,’ she said quickly and headed across the stones.

  Thorgils peered at Aleksander who was staring after Jael. ‘So, this is it? We won’t see you again?’

  Aleksander smiled. ‘You’ll see me in Saala, possibly. But probably not. I’ll be with Lothar when we arrive and no doubt he will take a lot of looking after.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure it’s for the best,’ Thorgils suggested carefully. ‘Jael needs a clear head for what we’re about to do.’

  Aleksander wanted to scream, to shake off the heavy cloak of amenability he had been wearing for too long now. Jael was his! He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. ‘I imagine you’re right,’ he admitted reluctantly.

  Thorgils glanced around. Fyn had wandered off, and they were alone. ‘It is not an easy thing,’ he said slowly, feeling his own dull heartache creep out from behind its heavily guarded door. ‘To have the woman you love taken from you. Married to another man.’

  Aleksander blinked, staring at him in surprise.

  ‘My woman, Isaura...’ Thorgils said sadly. ‘I’ve been without her for eight years now. We were together all our lives and always wished to be so. But she is with a man, married to a man she despises. Who is cruel to her. And she has had to have his children.’ Thorgils turned to Aleksander. ‘Knowing she is so unhappy and in so much pain? It is too much to live with sometimes. I would kill him, Ivaar, if he were not Eirik’s son.’ He shook his head. ‘Jael was happy with Eadmund, I promise you that. And will be again, once she kicks some sense into him. And if you love someone, I think that’s all you can wish for them.’

  Thorgils relaxed his frown, trying a lop-sided grin instead. ‘But what do I know? We may all end up skewered to the bottom of the sea before long!’ He shook away all thoughts of Isaura, hiding them back behind the door. Reaching out, he clapped Aleksander on the shoulder. ‘Good luck, ’ he smiled. ‘I hope you Brekkans don’t fuck it all up!’

  Ivaar was gone, perhaps never to return?

  Isaura shook her head. Surely, that was too much to hope for? Her 18-month-old son hung onto her fingers, toddling beside her as she walked back into the hall. What sweet relief it was to know that there was no Ivaar to demand anything from her with those cruel eyes of his. She allowed herself a small smile, then frowned. But what of Thorgils? If there was a chance that Ivaar might never return, there was also a chance that Thorgils might meet a similar fate. She felt her heart clench in fear, her eyes locking on Ayla who was playing with her three daughters at the back of the hall.

  Isaura didn’t like the woman. She wasn’t jealous that Ivaar spent many more nights in Ayla’s bed these days than hers; she was grateful for that. But why was she here? Why did she stay? The mystery of that had gnawed away at her for over a year. She didn’t trust her. But perhaps, despite all of that, perhaps Ayla could help her? She was a dreamer, after all.

  Isaura patiently walked Mads down to the back of the hall. ‘Ayla,’ she called softly. ‘May we speak?’

  Ayla froze. Isaura never spoke to her. Ever. Unless it was to scold her. She looked up and saw the desperation in Isaura’s eyes; the nervous twitch as she ran her fingers through her long golden hair. ‘Of course, my lady,’ she said quickly, bobbing her head.

  ‘Girls, take your brother to Selda for me, please, so that Ayla and I can go and speak in my chamber.’ Isaura handed Mads over to her eldest daughter, Selene, ignoring his grumbles.

  Ayla found herself smiling
sadly. In the end, no matter what someone thought of a dreamer, they would always come seeking advice.

  Morac could see that no affection was forthcoming as he stood rigidly before his wife. Runa had barely looked at him since his return, and even less so since Evaine’s. It saddened him, but his mind was on getting to Saala now. He would find a way to make things right with her once he returned. ‘Take care of yourself, Wife,’ he said, nodding curtly, before stalking away to where Eirik stood, helping Eydis into Sea Bear.

  Runa was relieved that he was leaving. She felt nothing for him except hatred for what he had done to Fyn, for the way he had treated her son. She could not see beyond it, not anymore. In the past, she had given in to her own guilty feelings, thinking that he had a right to treat the boy badly because of his own hurt over her betrayal. But no more. Fyn was her only family now. Morac and that evil little witch had brought them nothing but pain.

  ‘I have to go now, Mother,’ Fyn mumbled, hurrying towards her. He had barely slept, desperate to leave since first light. He just wanted to get underway, hoping that his jangling nerves would ease once they were out on the water.

  Runa blinked tears out of her eyes. ‘Yes, I know,’ she cried, pulling him to her, trying not to think about all the things that could go wrong; all the reasons that might stop him from returning to her. She squeezed him tightly, feeling the strength in his arms, sensing his desperation to escape her embrace. He was a man now, she knew, but she could feel his fear coursing through his limbs as she clung to them. ‘Please, my darling boy, please come back to me.’

  Fyn tried not to look at her tears as they cascaded down her anxious face. ‘I will, Mother, I promise I will,’ he said with more certainty than he felt. He had never been so nervous about anything. It was going to be his greatest test. But what if he failed it?

  They sat on opposite sides of the only table in the room.

  It was a warm, intimate chamber, and Isaura had made it hers alone. She spent many peaceful afternoons here; the children playing at her feet on thick furs while she sat at her table, stitching colourful patterns onto pieces of cloth. Sometimes they would be turned into a hanging for one of the walls, other times it was for no purpose at all. It helped to focus her mind on something useful and stopped it from wandering back to Oss.

  ‘You are loyal to Ivaar,’ Isaura began, staring at her clasped hands, uncomfortable in Ayla’s presence. ‘Perhaps you will tell him about this conversation?’ She looked up, blinking nervously.

  Ayla sat completely still. Her sleek, dark curls hung unbound over her simple blue dress as she studied Isaura. ‘No,’ she said plainly. ‘I will not tell him. He is not here. He will not know unless someone else tells him.’

  ‘If he returns...’ Isaura stared hard into Ayla’s eyes.

  ‘He will return,’ Ayla promised her calmly.

  Isaura sighed, listening to the children argue through the wall. They were getting older so quickly, picking at each other constantly. She dreaded to think that any of them would turn into Ivaar. ‘I imagine so. How could he not?’ She shook her head, reaching for her cup of small ale. ‘But I did not wish to speak to you about Ivaar. I can do nothing about him.’ She lowered her voice. ‘It is Thorgils I want to know about.’

  Ayla was not surprised. She had seen the way Isaura had looked at the large, red-headed man while they were on Oss. ‘What did you wish to know? I have seen nothing in my dreams about him.’

  ‘No?’ Isaura said sadly. ‘Oh.’

  ‘Which is a good thing,’ Ayla rushed to reassure her. ‘I do not see his death, if that is your question? But then again, I would not naturally dream of him at all. Unless it was important.’

  ‘But could you?’ Isaura wondered quietly. ‘Would you? To see if he’s safe?’

  Her eyes were wide with pain and Ayla couldn’t deny her.

  ‘I have this,’ Isaura said, pulling a bright red curl from her purse. It was tied to a thin, leather strap. Thorgils had given it to her, just before she left Oss all those years ago. ‘Will it help?’

  Ayla took it from her, slipping the curl inside her own purse. ‘It will. But I cannot guarantee anything. I can only try. If there is nothing the gods want to show me about him, then I will not see anything. But I will try.’

  Isaura nodded, feeling tears sting the corners of her eyes. As much as she was desperate to know what Ayla saw, she was just as terrified to find out what would happen to him.

  Jael nodded at Eadmund as he turned towards her. It was as much affection as she could summon at that moment; she was too distracted for anything more. He looked sad as he nodded back, lifting himself up and into his ship, Ice Breaker. She chose not to feel guilty for that, he being the one who had left her without a word.

  Jael turned away. Her attention had to be focused on leaving now. As much as Eirik was the king, he had put her in charge of a band of ornery old helmsmen, most of whom had no inclination to follow her at all, and somehow she had to get them all working together under her leadership.

  ‘Are we ready for this, do you think?’ Eirik asked, inhaling the salty air as he and Eydis joined her in the stern. The ships were in the water, rocking expectantly, waiting for her signal for the oars to dig in.

  ‘I hope so,’ Jael said briefly, running her eyes over their fleet. She swallowed, unfamiliar with the nerves she felt fluttering in her chest. She heard her father’s voice then, booming in her ears. ‘Well, it’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To be the leader? So lead, Jael. And hurry up about it!’ Smiling, Jael turned to Eydis who looked equal parts terrified and excited as she clung to Eirik’s hand. ‘Are you ready, Eydis?’ Jael asked, signalling Beorn, Sea Bear’s helmsman, to get them underway. She waved at Thorgils who was watching from Fire Serpent, two ships along, and he signalled on down the line. Oars went up and into the water in quick succession.

  Eydis nodded, stumbling as their ship backed up into the gentle waves. Eirik grabbed hold of her shoulders to steady her.

  ‘Have you ever been to sea before?’ Jael wondered, reaching for the gunwale to steady her own feet. She thought of Tig, then, hoping that she would see him again soon.

  ‘Yes,’ Eydis said with wide eyes. ‘But not very far out.’

  Eirik smiled, happy that he had brought her along. He didn’t want to let her out of his sight. Not anymore. ‘Let’s sit you down here, on my chest,’ he murmured gently. ‘It’s a good place to be until you find your sea legs.’

  Jael watched as Eirik eased Eydis down onto the chest, tucking her cloak tightly around her. She took a deep breath, putting all thoughts of Eadmund and Evaine far behind her, as Oss grew further and further away; promising herself that she would bring these men back.

  There was no choice.

  III

  Saala

  13

  The vast horde of Hestian warriors stood in columns that stretched from one end of Hest’s Main Square to the other, their freshly polished mail and armour gleaming under the early morning sun.

  Haaron stood at the bottom of the castle steps taking in the impressive sight. He was pleased, confident that they had enough men to keep the ambitious Brekkans at bay. ‘You must show Lothar that his desire to conquer us will never be fulfilled,’ he said pointedly, his eyes snapping to his heir who jiggled impatiently beside him.

  Haegen nodded, squinting. ‘I understand, Father. We will crush them.’

  ‘Don’t just crush them, humiliate them, and if there is an opportunity to take Lothar, then do it,’ Haaron said. ‘I would enjoy that. A Furyck prisoner?’ He smiled for a moment, but his eyes quickly lost any sense of real amusement. ‘But make sure that you keep Karsten under control. He is too reckless with those axes of his.’

  ‘Agreed.’

  ‘Well, say goodbye to your wife, then, and get going.’ Haaron clapped his son on the shoulder and turned to leave. ‘I shall head for the Tower and await word of your success. I do not expect you to have any trouble, but I shall have men... if you need them.’
>
  Haegen nodded to his father and turned to Irenna who was hovering anxiously nearby. He cupped her small face in his hands, noting how swollen and red her eyes looked. ‘You have no need to worry, my love,’ he smiled reassuringly. ‘They cannot get through the pass. You will be safe. We will protect Hest.’

  Irenna sighed, nestling herself into his thick, mail-clad chest, her head under his bearded chin. ‘That may be so, but I am not foolish enough to think that war does not mean victory without death. And I am not worried about my safety, so much as I am about yours. I know you, Haegen, always wanting to prove something to your father. You’re all the same, you Dragos men. You will put yourself out in front, where the most danger lurks.’

  Haegen held her close. She was tiny in his arms; fragile but fierce. ‘True. I will, of course. I must. No real leader fights from the rear or asks his men to do what he will not. But we have done this before,’ he said calmly. ‘We are Hestians, and I will be king here one day. Varna sees that. You should not worry about this one battle.’

  But Irenna’s mind did not ease. She pulled back and glanced at Karsten, who was kissing his young wife goodbye. ‘Do not listen to Karsten, whatever you do,’ Irenna warned her husband. ‘He is not the same since he lost that eye. And he was never right before it.’

  Haegen stared at his brother, who broke away from Nicolene and headed towards him. ‘I am in charge, Irenna,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘Nothing happens without me deciding it, I promise.’

  ‘Shall we go then, Brother?’ Karsten smiled. He was barely able to contain his excitement. He had spent days sharpening his axe blades, and although he might not be able to wield them at Jael Furyck this time, he was certain there would be Furyck blood on them before the battle was done. If he could shake off the leash that Haegen was surely planning to keep him on.