The Burning Sea

by A. E. Rayne

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Rexon said wryly, causing Gant’s serious face to break into a smile. ‘This is not the first time we’ve done this.’

  Eadmund was barely listening as he looked on. As soon as Ivaar had entered the hall, all he could think about was killing him. How he would do it. When? Perhaps in this battle...

  It had been rewarding to turn fat to muscle, to hone his skills, to increase his strength, to become faster and sharper than he had been in years. But it wasn’t for Hest, and it wasn’t even for Jael. Eadmund knew that everything he had done over the past few months had been for one thing only.

  To kill his brother.

  ‘Please, Grandmother!’ Meena wailed as she cowered on her knees by her grandmother’s chair. ‘Please, make it stop. I will do anything. Anything!’ she sobbed in despair. ‘Please make it s-s-s-stop!’ Her eyes were swollen, raw from crying. She had barely slept in three nights, driven mad by nightmares; nightmares so gruesome she wanted to vomit. Terrifying hounds, with blood, and death and darkness and beasts and murderous men, half dead, with knives and... she shook all over, her right foot tapping endlessly as she stooped even lower, desperate to curl up into a ball.

  Desperate to feel safe.

  Varna rose from her hard wooden chair and stood over her. ‘You have learned your lesson, then?’ she rasped, her teeth bared. ‘You have learned who you must be loyal to above all others?’

  Meena resisted the urge to shrink away. She started nodding.

  ‘You have seen what will happen to you if you are not?’ Varna asked, bending so close to Meena that her ice-cold breath devoured her granddaughter’s shivering frame. ‘What will come for you in the dark?’

  Meena’s eyes widened. ‘Y-y-y-yes,’ she stuttered.

  ‘And you will show me what it is that Jaeger Dragos has you scurrying about for?’

  ‘Y-y-y-yes.’ Meena didn’t hesitate. She wanted to be loyal to Jaeger, so much, but not as much as she wanted to feel safe again. To know that she could close her eyes and not see the evil emerging from the shadows her grandmother was tormenting her with.

  Varna smiled. ‘Well, then get up, my child. Come sit by the fire, and we shall talk, you and I.’

  16

  ‘Where have you been?’ Jael frowned.

  Aleksander smiled, happy to see her, despite her grumpy face. ‘Been?’

  ‘I haven’t seen you since last night,’ she said coming to a stop in front of him, and smiling, at last. ‘You missed our meeting. Lothar is looking for you.’

  ‘There’s a sickness spreading through the camp.’

  ‘What? Already?’

  ‘Well, according to some of the men I spoke to, it started on the march, but no one said anything about it.’

  ‘And now?’ Jael wondered as she turned and started walking back to the hall, enjoying the heat from the sun, which had finally emerged from behind the clouds. ‘How many men are we talking about?’

  ‘I counted 23.’

  ‘23?’

  ‘Mmmm, not such a small amount,’ Aleksander said seriously. ‘Avilda and Pria are with the sick.’ He nodded at Gant, who was approaching. ‘That’s where I’ve been, moving them away from the rest of the men.’

  ‘What is it?’ Gant asked, noting the tension on Aleksander’s face. ‘Where have you been?’

  Aleksander explained the situation as they continued into the hall, where Lothar had once again made himself comfortable in Rexon’s chair. Eirik stood beside him, talking animatedly to Lord Frits from the island of Bara, who had not been convinced by Jael’s plan for their attack. Jael eyed him moodily. None of the lords had thought much of her ideas. Then again, they had not seen Aleksander’s demonstration of the sea-fire. Let them grumble, she thought to herself, trying not to let it unsettle her.

  But it was not only Frits who had a problem with Jael. Eirik’s other lords were griping as well, talking amongst themselves, heads together, eyes furtive as they shot her barely-concealed looks of distrust; no doubt stirred up by Ivaar, who appeared to be going from one lord to the other, his lips always a hair’s breadth from one of their ears.

  Jael turned away, towards the more urgent discussion of the camp sickness.

  ‘Sick men will do nothing for morale,’ Lothar was muttering, annoyed. This was not the sort of news he wanted to receive. ‘Nor will they do anything for my defenses!’ he frowned at Aleksander. ‘And they are far away now? From the healthy men?’

  ‘Yes, lord,’ Aleksander nodded.

  Lothar turned to Osbert. ‘And did you not notice anything on your march? Did you not wonder what was happening when your men were squatting in the bushes and shitting their breeches?’

  Osbert swallowed, wanting to turn his father’s bulging eyes towards someone else. ‘Gant was in charge of the columns of men –’

  ‘Gant?’ Lothar sneered, his thick head making him thoroughly irritable. ‘Gant Olborn is not my heir, the one who wishes to be king! Gant Olborn was not leading my men, you were, Osbert!’ He slapped Osbert on the side of the head. ‘And you should remember to check on your men!’

  Osbert was too horrified to speak. His eyes flared, before quickly finding the floor. Rage rushed up into his throat, rage he quashed in a hurry. He had to; they were all looking at him: the lords, the Skallesons, Jael... ‘Of course, Father,’ he muttered. ‘I shall go and see how they are faring.’

  ‘Yes, you will!’ Lothar barked as Osbert hurried towards the doors, desperate to escape the shame of his father’s words. ‘But you will not get close, do you understand me? Whatever evil is lurking in those men’s guts, I do not wish it brought back here!’

  Gant turned to Aleksander. ‘How bad are they?’

  ‘Unable to walk. Very ill.’

  ‘So, we may lose some?’

  ‘I would say so.’

  ‘Well, this is terrible timing, wouldn’t you say, Eirik?’ Lothar groaned. ‘Not good at all.’

  ‘Yes, I agree,’ Eirik said, turning away from Frits, who had left surly and unsatisfied. He had not realised how popular Otto was, nor, perhaps, how unpopular a decision putting a Brekkan in charge of their fleet would be, and a woman at that. But he was confident that, eventually, they would see what he saw in Jael. ‘There is no going back now, though. Haaron knows that we are coming and soon his ships will leave his harbour. We cannot change course.’

  ‘Nor would we want to!’ Lothar growled happily. ‘When we have come so far and with so many men! We will surely not miss a handful.’

  Aleksander looked doubtfully at Gant and Jael. From what he had seen of the state of the Brekkan men, they would be lucky if it stayed a handful for long.

  Varna had dragged Meena around the cold, quiet castle towards Jaeger’s chamber on the second floor. No one had even glanced their way; most being too afraid of Varna to say a word, and none having any affection for Meena anyway.

  She was a strange girl.

  Varna yanked her granddaughter into the chamber and shut the door behind them. ‘Now, where is it?’ she hissed impatiently.

  Meena swallowed. It felt as though the sharp claws digging into her arm were digging into her very soul.

  There was no fire, and, despite the small window that overlooked the harbour, little light. Meena frowned and peered around. ‘He kept it over there,’ she mumbled under her breath, looking towards the table that stood near the empty fireplace, in the middle of the room.

  ‘What?’ Varna barked. ‘Speak up, little mouse! Or is it that you are changing your mind already? Worried about what your lover will say?’

  Meena cringed. ‘He is not my –’

  Varna didn’t care. ‘Where did he keep it?’ she snarled.

  Meena tapped her head. ‘On the table. Un-un-under a cloth.’

  Varna was already at the table, but there was no cloth. There was nothing on the table but a goblet and a jug; both empty. It had been thoroughly cleaned. But of course, she thought to herself; he could not be such an idiot, or he wouldn’t have found the b
ook in the first place. Varna looked around, scurrying towards Jaeger’s bed at the far end of the long chamber. ‘Get under there girl!’ she ordered. ‘See if it’s there!’

  Meena hurried to do as she was bid, crawling about on the ice-cold flagstones, scraping her knees. It was too dark to see anything much, but she felt around anyway. There was nothing there at all, apart from a goblet which had rolled under the bed. Part of her felt relieved. The other part of her realised that her grandmother was unlikely to release her from her spell until she produced the book.

  Varna had torn off the bed furs and thrown them to the ground. She was breathing heavily, her shoulders aching from the effort. Nothing. She peered around in the dim light as Meena emerged from beneath the bed, shaking her head. ‘Well, keep looking!’ she roared.

  Varna shuffled over to the decorative iron chest at the end of Jaeger’s bed. It was not locked, so she eased open the heavy lid, sifting through its contents with an increasingly irate desperation. Nothing! Nothing but women’s clothing and jewels. His dead wife’s chest, she realised with a growl.

  Meena came back to her grandmother, empty-handed. She glanced around. They had looked everywhere.

  Varna sat down on the bed and frowned, working her jaw. ‘Who else knew about it, do you think? His servant? That fat little man, what’s his name?’

  ‘Eg-eg-eg-Egil,’ Meena spluttered. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, someone must know! Someone must have given that book to him. He did not go digging about for it himself, did he?’

  Meena kept her eyes on the floor, shuddering, worried about what her grandmother would do next.

  Varna’s head snapped around, surveying the room. ‘Find something of his. Clothing, an arm ring. Anything!’ she rasped. ‘There are other ways to find out what we need to know.’

  Eydis felt odd. Being around so many strangers was unsettling. And Fyn. She wasn’t sure which was worse.

  ‘Eydis?’ Fyn peered at her. She was sitting on his chest, a worried look furrowing her brow. ‘Are you alright?’

  Eydis turned towards Fyn’s voice. She could hear him scraping his whetstone down the blade of his sword; sharpening it, as he had been doing for most of the morning. She sighed. ‘Yes, as I said a moment ago, I’m fine.’

  Amma laughed. ‘Perhaps it’s just that it’s so very dull to sit and listen to that dreadful noise all day!’

  Fyn looked at Axl, who was doing the very same thing.

  ‘Well, would you rather our swords were capable of killing a man or just tickling him a bit?’ Axl snorted at Amma, barely looking up from his own sword, which gleamed in the sunshine.

  Amma rolled her eyes. ‘Come on, Eydis,’ she said kindly. ‘Why don’t we go for a walk? I can tell you all about Saala and what I can see. It is not a very large place,’ she said, ‘but it is far more interesting than staying here with these two!’ She smiled tartly at Axl.

  ‘I would like that,’ Eydis exclaimed eagerly. ‘I would like to see what is happening.’ She shook her head as she felt for Amma’s hand. ‘With my ears of course.’

  Fyn didn’t look happy. ‘I promised Jael –’

  ‘Jael will be fine with Amma looking after Eydis,’ Axl assured him. ‘Amma wouldn’t dare cross her, would you?’ he smiled.

  ‘Jael?’ Amma laughed. ‘No, I would like to see Andala again!’ She helped Eydis out of the tent. ‘Don’t worry about us. We will stay away from anyone who looks too hairy and mean!’

  ‘Well, make sure you stay away from the quarantined area, too,’ Axl insisted firmly.

  Amma turned and bobbed her head, her blue cloak swirling around her like a sail. Axl watched her go, distracted.

  ‘Is she your... woman?’ Fyn wondered shyly. ‘Your cousin?’

  Axl blinked, quickly clearing his face of anything other than surprised irritation. ‘My woman?’ He shook his head, suddenly very interested in one particular area on his sword’s blade. ‘No, she is just my cousin.’

  ‘You think that I’ll tell Jael?’ Fyn asked quietly. He had started to enjoy Axl’s company after an awkward start. He wasn’t sure he’d ever had a friend his own age before, and though it was strange, it was not unpleasant.

  Axl peered at him. ‘You wouldn’t? But you are loyal to her.’

  Fyn’s face was suddenly serious. ‘I would do anything for Jael,’ he said fiercely. ‘Anything. She saved my life. Changed my life. Everything. I owe all of it to her.’

  Axl wasn’t sure if he should feel proud of his sister or annoyed that she had worked so hard to help someone who wasn’t him. ‘Is that so?’

  Fyn nodded eagerly. ‘Yes, when I met her, I couldn’t even hold onto a sword, let alone use it properly. She trained me.’

  ‘Well, you must be a good warrior then,’ Axl admitted with a shrug. ‘I don’t imagine she’d keep you around if you weren’t.’

  Fyn smiled. He hoped that was true.

  ‘And as for Amma,’ Axl murmured leaning towards his tent-mate. ‘If her father or brother found out... they would surely marry her off immediately. So, if you wish, tell Jael. I’m not sure she would care either way. I know she wouldn’t say anything. But no one else can know.’ He swallowed. ‘I must keep Amma safe.’

  Fyn thought about Eydis, hoping she was alright. He frowned, then smiled, realising that he knew how Axl felt.

  ‘What do you think you are doing?’ Bayla cried as she crashed straight into Meena Gallas, who was hurrying out of Jaeger’s chamber. Her surprise only intensified when Varna came rushing out after her.

  Meena gasped, turning quickly to her grandmother, her feet shuffling helplessly beneath her. She was desperate to run away from Bayla and Varna, both.

  ‘We are looking for something,’ Varna said boldly, her eyes challenging Bayla.

  ‘In my son’s chamber? What?’

  ‘Something Meena left there when your son forced himself upon her!’

  Bayla was surprised by that, her eyes narrowing on the wide-eyed girl. ‘Why would he do that?’ She stared at the crumpled, hunched, twitching figure before her. Perhaps if she were tidied up, perhaps there was something worth looking at under all that wild, red hair and those shapeless rags. But Jaeger would’ve had to look very closely to have seen it. ‘Why?’

  ‘Your son took advantage of my granddaughter!’ Varna growled crossly. ‘A girl who is not even right in the head! A poor, addle-brained girl!’

  Bayla glanced at Meena, who was indeed tapping her head. ‘He is the son of the king,’ she sneered. ‘But I suppose, even the son of the king can be drunk and desperate enough to settle for a hideous mess like this!’

  Varna’s lips curled venomously. ‘Yes, I imagine that’s what Haaron’s father thought when his son chose to marry you.’ She grabbed Meena’s hand and hurried her away from Bayla’s blanched face.

  Bayla stared after them, too furious to even blink.

  Eadmund was showing Torborn Sverri of Tervo – the smallest of Eirik’s islands – around his ship. They had grown up together on Oss but were much changed from the carefree boys, or even the fearless warriors, they had once been. Both had heavy shoulders now, weighed down with the responsibility of their positions.

  ‘Seven?’ Eadmund laughed. ‘You are doing better than me, old friend!’

  ‘Well, you are only newly married,’ Torborn smiled. ‘And perhaps your wife has her mind on things other than little Eadmunds?’ His expression became more serious as he glanced around but the closest men were far down the beach, and not within hearing distance.

  ‘Jael?’ Eadmund muttered, his smile fading. ‘She is an excellent warrior, it’s true.’

  ‘So I hear, but commander of our fleet?’ Torborn wondered, a reddish eyebrow raised at his friend. ‘It seems as though your father favours her greatly. To get rid of Otto like that?’

  Eadmund frowned, sensing where this was going. He leaned towards Torborn. ‘Otto got rid of himself with his poor leadership in our last attack on Skorro and don’t let anyone tell
you otherwise. He would still be there if he hadn’t left so many Islanders sinking to their deaths in the Adrano, while he ran back to Oss as quickly as he could.’

  Torborn stood back. He was not as tall as Eadmund, nor as broad. And despite what may have happened to his friend since Melaena’s death, he knew that the Eadmund of old had returned now and that Eadmund, from memory, was not a man to be trifled with. ‘Well, as you say, Otto has no reason for complaint. I see that. But,’ he began diplomatically, ‘why did Eirik not think of you to replace him? You are happy that he chose your wife over you?’

  Eadmund grimaced as he turned towards the sinking sun. Evaine and Sigmund flashed before his eyes, and distracted, he hoped they were both well. He thought of Jael. Jael fighting Tarak. Jael fighting Aleksander. Overwhelmed, he shook his head. ‘My father favours her with good reason. She is Furia’s daughter. And Furia is the Goddess of War. He could not have made a better choice, I promise you.’ He said it without thinking, without feeling, and frowning, he turned around. ‘And you make sure to tell all the lords that. I know what Otto is doing, what Ivaar is doing... with their whispers. But I promise you, Torborn, my father will not hesitate to remove any man who doesn’t follow Jael. As would I, in his place.’

  ‘This will be the first time we’ve fought without each other,’ Aleksander said as they stood on the sand, watching Eadmund talking to one of the island lords on Ice Breaker.

  Jael turned to him, surprised. It was true. She sighed. There was so much there, unsaid between them; a lifetime of words and experiences, friendship and love. ‘Who will watch my back?’ she wondered with a sad smile.

  ‘You seem to have a few new friends,’ he said, with only the smallest hint of jealousy.

  ‘I do,’ she supposed. ‘And you?’

  ‘Well, I will have Gant and Rexon,’ Aleksander said thoughtfully. ‘Not the worst.’

  Jael laughed. ‘No, not the worst. And there’s always Axl, too.’