The Burning Sea

by A. E. Rayne

  Gisila smiled, wiping her eyes. She felt a release, a sense of hope that she hadn’t experienced in a long time. Jael was here, and for a moment she didn’t need to think about being strong. Gripping her daughter’s arm, Gisila followed her, Axl and Aleksander, as they slipped through the village.

  Eadmund and Thorgils watched the family reunion from a distance.

  ‘We should go,’ Eadmund muttered, nodding towards their men who were heading into the village.

  Thorgils blinked at him. ‘You don’t want to go and meet Jael’s family?’

  Eadmund shook his head and walked off without a word.

  14

  ‘But where did you get it?’ Dalca wondered. ‘How did you get it?’

  Her sister smiled darkly. ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’ She shook her sleek hair and turned her attention to the book, stroking its fine leather cover. ‘It doesn’t matter, does it? What matters is what it can do for us.’

  ‘Do for us?’ Diona asked hesitantly. She glanced around. It was just a book, but their sister was acting as though they were doing something wrong. She swallowed, listening for any footsteps. They were alone in their house, upstairs in their shared bedchamber, but Diona was nervous, worried that a dreamer would see what they were doing.

  What were they doing?

  ‘It is a book of magic,’ the girl with the dark hair whispered. ‘Spells, potions... every way you could imagine to exact our revenge is in here.’

  Diona looked horrified. She shook her head firmly. ‘No!’

  ‘You don’t want to make them pay for what they have done to us?’ her sister demanded angrily, her voice rising.

  ‘Stop it!’ Dalca hissed. ‘Both of you. Stop arguing. And tell us what you mean, Sister. What do you want to do with this book of magic?’ She was the wisest of the three, the eldest.

  ‘I want to make them suffer for what they did. The Tuurans, the Furycks... they destroyed our family. And with this book,’ she smiled, her beautiful young face alive with hope, ‘we will be able to take our revenge and destroy them all.’

  Diona gasped and looked at her sister. ‘All of them?’

  ‘All of them.’

  Edela awoke slowly, puzzled.

  She had fallen asleep in a chair by the fire, almost submerged under a heaping pile of furs, both puppies on her feet. She was warm and cold, all at the same time.

  ‘Are you alright, Edela?’ Biddy wondered as she walked inside, her broom thick with cobwebs. ‘Shall I get you some water?’

  Edela grimaced, her neck tight where she had slept in an odd position. ‘Yes, I would like that,’ she murmured throatily.

  What a strange dream it had been. So different than any others. So clear. And that girl was there. The one she had dreamed of before. She was quite mesmerising, but there was something about her eyes that troubled Edela.

  And, of course, she had the book.

  ‘Here you are,’ Biddy smiled, handing Edela a cup. ‘Was it a bad dream, then?’

  ‘No,’ Edela yawned, taking a long drink of water. ‘No, it was not, which was a nice change. It was about that girl again. You remember, I told you about her?’

  Biddy nodded earnestly.

  ‘She has sisters...’ Edela frowned, trying to tease out a memory. Her eyes widened. ‘Those girls... her sisters... they were the ones I saw in my dream! The beheaded ones!’ She shook her head slowly from side to side, her mouth hanging open. ‘I am certain of it,’ she shuddered, thinking of those poor young girls whose heads had been severed and stuck on pikes.

  But who were they and what had they done? And more importantly, what had happened to their sister and the book?

  Rexon’s hall was not large enough to accommodate such an overwhelming influx of people. Most had to camp in a hastily constructed tent village, just outside Saala’s wooden walls. But they had ale and food and stories to share as they sat around fires, laughing and drinking together.

  Rexon was not laughing as he watched Lothar Furyck devouring his food, and draining his barrels of fine wine. He grumbled to himself, wishing he had hidden them away.

  ‘Missing Ranuf?’ Gant whispered, stopping beside Rexon, who was leaning against the door, surveying the scene with an ever-deepening frown.

  Rexon laughed. ‘Not at all. Lothar is my king now, old friend.’ He stared at Gant, his hooded eyes barely concealing how false his words were.

  ‘Indeed,’ Gant nodded and continued to stare at the high table where Lothar and Osbert sat with Eirik and Eadmund Skalleson. Thankfully, Lothar had not even noticed that Gisila was not there.

  ‘But, of course, anything can happen in battle,’ Rexon mused, rolling a toothpick around his mouth. ‘Can’t it?’

  ‘That it can,’ Gant agreed slyly, checking behind them. ‘I’m sure Haaron’s had his fill of the Brekkans by now.’

  ‘Well, some of them anyway,’ Rexon smiled.

  ‘I’m going to go and find Gisila and Jael before he gets stroppy and wonders where they are,’ Gant whispered. ‘Keep an eye on him for me.’

  Rexon nodded as Gant slipped out of the hall.

  The Furyck women had been sequestered in a warm, accommodating house close to the hall. There was a separate bedchamber and enough chairs and stools for them to sit around the fire in the comfortable main room. Amma was there too, and Jael had brought Eydis along to save her from having to be in the hall with all those loud, drunken men.

  The fire was warm, but there was little joy on the faces of those that sat around it, sipping from cups of small ale that Gunni, Gisila’s servant, had handed around.

  ‘What about your husband?’ Gisila wondered into the awkward silence. ‘How is he? Where is he?’

  Eydis looked troubled.

  Jael looked confused. ‘He is... good.’

  ‘Good?’ Axl was also confused, remembering the bloated mess of a man he had left swaying beside Jael on Oss’ quickly freezing beach.

  ‘Well, it’s too complicated to talk about now,’ Jael grumbled, feeling the rising irritation of Eadmund’s absence crawl under her skin; annoyed that he had hurried away without even a look towards her or her family.

  Aleksander could see that Jael was getting tense. ‘There will be a lot to do in the next few days. We will not have much time to say anything to each other, so, best we say it all now.’

  ‘Mother, you have to stay strong,’ Jael said quickly. ‘And be patient. We cannot make any plans until after this battle.’

  Gisila hung her head. ‘And if you all die?’ she breathed. ‘Edela saw that this would be a failure, that Lothar would not succeed again. He will not get through the pass. If you all die, then what shall we do, Amma and I?’

  Jael glanced at Eydis; she didn’t need to hear this. ‘Mother, the gods will decide our fate,’ she tried. ‘You know that. And whoever is still standing at the end of this, that person will take care of you, I promise.’

  Axl nodded. ‘All of you.’

  ‘I will find Rexon and speak to him,’ Jael added. ‘He is a trusted ally. He will protect you all if there is no one else.’

  No one looked especially reassured.

  ‘Eydis is a dreamer,’ Jael said, an idea sparking suddenly. ‘She has not seen anything bad coming, have you Eydis?’

  Eydis squirmed uncomfortably. There were too many new people for her to feel confident about speaking at all. ‘No,’ she whispered.

  Amma reached out and kindly squeezed her hand.

  ‘And remember, Mother,’ Axl reminded her, wrapping one arm around Gisila’s shaking shoulders. ‘Edela didn’t see anything bad either, did she? She didn’t see any of us dying.’ He swallowed, hoping that his grandmother hadn’t hidden the truth from them. He was desperate to come back to keep his mother and Amma safe.

  ‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ Thorgils wondered again, shovelling a fat slab of gristly pork into his mouth. After two days at sea, he was too hungry to be particular about the overcooked food on offer.

  Ead
mund looked at him blankly. ‘Why do you keep asking me that? Jael doesn’t need me interrupting her family reunion. Not the way things are right now. Besides,’ he leaned in closer to Thorgils’ bushy head, ‘I don’t want to miss Ivaar’s company, do I?’

  Thorgils’ jaw clenched as he looked along the table towards Eadmund’s older brother, Ivaar Skalleson; the biggest turd he had ever had the misfortune of knowing. More than that; Ivaar was a complete cunt, married to Isaura, Thorgils’ woman. Lord of Kalfa. But never, Thorgils swore to himself, never King of Oss. Oh, how he’d like to aim one of those sea-fire jars at Ivaar and give Eadmund a burning arrow. Together they could make him disappear from all their lives, in one great ball of fire. Just the thought of that put a smile on his face.

  ‘You look happy,’ Jael noted as she peered down at Thorgils.

  Thorgils snapped himself awake, leaving thoughts of firing Ivaar into the sea for another day. ‘Well, you took your time,’ he grumbled. ‘Having a lie-down, were we?’

  Jael ignored him and Eadmund, and instead wandered over to Eirik, who already looked a little worse for wear as he motioned her over. She nodded at Osbert and Lothar, whose drunken eyes barely acknowledged her, and bent her ear towards the king.

  ‘Is Eydis alright?’ Eirik asked anxiously.

  ‘She’s fine. I left her with my mother and cousin,’ Jael assured him. ‘They will care for her, you needn’t worry. There is room for her to stay with them.’

  ‘Good, good!’ Eirik called, surprising Jael with a loud belch.

  Lothar laughed and joined in.

  Jael frowned and turned to the man whose presence she had suddenly felt as he crept up behind her. ‘Hello, Ivaar,’ she said, glaring at her brother-in-law.

  ‘Jael,’ Ivaar purred. ‘You look well. Still not pregnant, I see.’

  Jael didn’t even blink. ‘No, I thought I’d leave that until after I’d killed you,’ she whispered.

  Ivaar flinched, surprised by the ferocity of her words and the anger in her eyes. ‘Well, it appears that time has not softened you. Nor me, I must confess. We have, it seems, become enemies.’

  ‘Hardly a surprise when you wish to take everything from me. How could we be anything but?’

  Eadmund and Thorgils were watching; Jael could sense that out of the corner of her eye. It was a public place and no time for threatening people she was going to be fighting alongside. She was exhausted and hungry, her throat, salt-dry. There would be plenty of time to trade insults with Ivaar later.

  Ivaar studied her with a tense sigh. She was infuriatingly smug, and he was annoyed to find that his body still responded to her intoxicating eyes. ‘Well, perhaps that is so, but I am not the only one who wishes to take everything from you, am I?’ he breathed in her ear. ‘I hear that Evaine Gallas has returned to Oss with Eadmund’s son. I can only imagine how you must feel. But then, I suppose, now you can lean on Aleksander for comfort.’ And deciding that that was enough to leave her with, for now, Ivaar slid away to talk to his father, who was frowning in his direction.

  ‘Jael,’ Fyn murmured, stopping beside her. ‘I think I should find somewhere to sleep.’ After his years of abuse by Tarak, he felt permanently on edge around other men, especially large, bullish ones with too much ale in them, and the hall was full of those.

  ‘Already?’ Jael asked, sensing his awkwardness. ‘Where?’ She caught sight of her brother chatting to a familiar Andalan face. ‘Axl!’ she called. ‘Where are you sleeping?’

  ‘In the tents,’ Axl mumbled between sips of ale. ‘With Gant.’

  ‘Do you have another bed for my friend, Fyn?’

  Fyn looked uncomfortable, not wanting to be handed off to complete strangers like a child. He made protesting sounds, staring at his feet.

  ‘Just until tomorrow,’ Jael assured him. ‘We can figure everything out when it’s light. You’ll be safer there with Axl and Gant than in here. You can trust them.’

  Fyn shrugged, and Jael smiled as Axl approached. They certainly did look alike, Axl and Fyn. Tall, floppy-haired, determined to prove themselves. Young...

  ‘Fyn is under my protection,’ Jael said firmly to her brother. ‘Anything happens to him, and I’ll come looking for you.’

  Axl laughed. ‘Well, I’m sure you’ll know where to find me!’ He nodded at Fyn. ‘Come on then, I’ll show you where to go.’

  Jael sighed, relieved, wondering if she should follow them, but her eyes accidentally caught Lothar’s as he rose from Rexon’s chair, his arms outstretched.

  ‘My niece!’ Lothar slurred loudly as Jael squirmed before him. ‘It has been so long, and yet, I would have to say in the same breath, not long enough!’

  Osbert couldn’t help but snort as he swayed behind his father.

  Jael cringed, noticing that Eadmund had his head down, avoiding her entirely. That was surely a far worse problem than the drunken fool of a king who was wobbling towards her.

  ‘I’ve heard from Eirik that you are in command of his fleet!’ Lothar boomed, grabbing her arms and kissing her cheek.

  His breath was overpowering, his lips, wet on her face. Jael swallowed, pressing her boots onto the floorboards, forcing herself not to step away. ‘Yes, my lord,’ she said, without emotion. ‘I am.’

  ‘And how do his men feel about that?’ he bellowed, waving his hand towards the island lords, who had their heads together, having been moved to a smaller, lower table now that the kings and their families had arrived. ‘How do the lords of the islands feel about a woman in charge of their destiny?’

  Eirik frowned. Lothar’s lips were as loose as his trousers after he’d removed his belt. He turned to Rexon, who he’d quickly realised had more sense than Lothar and his son put together. ‘I think your king might need his bed,’ he murmured.

  Rexon nodded slowly. ‘Yes, I think so. But whether he is going to let anyone take him there, I don’t know.’

  Lothar was teetering on his feet now. Jael glanced at Osbert, but he didn’t appear in any state to save his father from further humiliation. It would do no good for him to continue in this way; to make a fool of himself in front of everyone he wished to follow him. ‘Well, if they have any problems, they can speak to their king,’ she said quietly, eager to change the subject. ‘But in the meantime, I wanted to wish you congratulations on your marriage. My mother has been telling me all about it.’

  Lothar’s eyes bulged, his head spinning around, realising for the first time in a while that there was still no Gisila. ‘Ahhh yes, my beautiful wife,’ he sighed wistfully. ‘And where is she, did you say?’

  Jael thought quickly, not wanting to send Lothar to prey on her mother in this state. ‘She is asleep, with the other women. With Amma, and Eirik’s daughter.’

  ‘Oh,’ Lothar frowned. ‘Well, we shall have to change all of that tomorrow, I think, once we are properly set up.’ His mind wandered as the hall started to blur around him. ‘I must have my wife by me, in my bed! She is my wife!’

  ‘My lord,’ Gant said softly as he approached. ‘I’m sure that Gisila would want you to take your rest now, so that you may breakfast with her in the morning.’

  Lothar frowned, annoyed at being coddled like a baby. But he did feel ready to drop. He nodded. ‘Very well,’ he slurred and promptly slumped into Gant’s arms. ‘We shall talk tomorrow, Eirik!’ Lothar called over his shoulder as Gant manoeuvred his slumberous king through the tables, towards the bedchambers at the back of the hall.

  Eirik could barely keep his eyes from rolling. That man was likely to get everyone killed.

  ‘An interesting alliance you have made there, Father,’ Ivaar sneered. He had no reason to impress Eirik anymore; he didn’t see any way back to the throne while his father was alive. ‘It never breeds much confidence to be led by a drunk.’ He glanced at Eadmund as he spoke.

  Eirik frowned, pushing away his cup. It did not feel late, but he had had enough of the day now. A clear head would serve him better in the morning than a regretful one, he deci
ded. ‘No, it doesn’t,’ he agreed quietly. ‘Nor does it breed much confidence to be led by someone who wouldn’t hesitate to murder his entire family to satisfy his own ambition.’ Eirik was not discreet with his words, and more than a few heads snapped towards them.

  Ivaar tried to turn his grimace into a smile, but it merely twisted his narrow face into a scowl. ‘Shall I help you to your bed, Father? You seem a little unsteady on your feet.’

  Eirik batted him away with one hand. ‘You may think me old, Ivaar, but I am King of Oss, and you are not. And the King of Oss does not need anyone to help him to his bed!’ And with one, final, bitter look at his bitter son, he walked towards the back of the hall, to the bedchamber where Rexon had placed his chest.

  Ivaar watched his father stumble away, feeling the heat of embarrassment on his cheeks; sensing the smirks, and the gossip that was already beginning to flow around him. He didn’t care. He dismissed it entirely. Soon it would be his turn.

  Eirik was wrong. Ayla had seen him as King of Oss.

  And soon.

  Jael wedged herself in between Thorgils and Eadmund. She wanted her bed, but she also wanted to take her husband with her. He had been drinking steadily since their arrival. It was unlike him, and she felt too worried to be mad anymore.

  Thorgils eyed her over the top of Eadmund’s drooping head. He looked as anxious as she felt.

  ‘Shall we go?’ Jael asked lightly.

  Eadmund turned to her, puzzled, his face completely blank, his eyes hazy. ‘Go? Where?’

  ‘To find a bed,’ Jael suggested. ‘We are still married, I believe. So, we could find a bed together.’ She had missed him and was ready for it all to be over. There were far too many important things coming now to be fighting about a bad decision and a trouble-making bitch.

  Eadmund shook his head. ‘No, you go,’ he sighed. ‘I haven’t even touched the sides of this cup, and besides, it’s better if I just sleep here.’ He turned his head towards his ale, studying it closely.