The Burning Sea

by A. E. Rayne

  The night was quiet as they sat, listening to the sound of Lothar’s endlessly gurgling belly and the crack of the fire.

  Lothar grimaced as he leaned forward, his eyes straining to make out the shadowy figures that lurked around the edges of their conversation. ‘I know you want land. Fertile land. Not just rocks. You may have a castle and ships, and you can sail to the Fire Lands, but you cannot grow your own food. Not enough to sustain your people, from what I hear. Why else would you keep trying to claim my land?’

  Haaron pulled on his short grey beard and sighed. He ached from sitting on his horse all day. He felt old and wearier than he wanted to admit. ‘Are you offering me some of your land?’

  ‘Brekka?’ Lothar laughed, his sides aching with the strain. ‘No. Never. And you will not offer me Hest, will you?’

  It was Haaron’s turn to lean forward. ‘What then?’

  ‘I am suggesting that we claim Helsabor. Together. An alliance that would increase both our kingdom’s reach. And an agreement for free access through the Widow’s Peak for my men, so that we may finally trade with the Fire Lands ourselves.’

  Haaron laughed. ‘Helsabor?’ He shook his head. ‘It is heavily fortified, walls on three sides. Wulf Halvardar has spent 60 years building those fucking walls! His army is too large, even with both of ours against it, surely?’

  ‘Not with the Islanders as well.’

  Haaron narrowed his gaze. ‘And you think your niece will continue the alliance with you? You who took her father’s throne? Who sold her to the Skallesons?’

  ‘My niece is a queen now and, from what I have heard, very happy in her marriage. She would not have been so if she had remained in Brekka,’ Lothar insisted, puffing out his chest. ‘I see no reason for her not to be grateful for that.’

  Haaron was intrigued. Helsabor sat between Hest and Brekka, on Osterland’s west coast. Most of it was rich and fertile and that tempted him. But King Wulf had spent his entire reign breeding warriors to stand on his towering walls and kill anyone who dared come close.

  It was not something he had ever considered. Until now.

  A bug flew into Haaron’s mouth, and he spat, coughing, taking a quick sip of ale. ‘Or, I could just kill you, your son and your nephew and then go and kill your niece, wife and daughters. And that would be the end of the Furycks,’ he mused.

  Lothar tried not to shudder at the real possibility of that happening. For all his bravado, he knew that their position here was desperately fragile. One wrong move and Haaron would take everything he had and destroy it all.

  ‘How?’ she asked into the whisper of flames, her thick, white breath twisting before her. ‘How will I do it?’

  The woman smiled menacingly, her eyes glowing like dark embers. ‘I will show you. He won’t even know. It will not be easy, though. He loves her very much, I can feel that. But you will have two ways to bind him as soon as your son is born. Do not fear, you will take him and become his queen. I have seen it. And without him, she will never succeed.’

  Evaine couldn’t have looked happier as she sat, huddled beneath a fur, rubbing her hands gleefully over her large belly.

  Edela frowned, desperate to hear more. How had she done it? But the vision faded into the night, leaving just the flames glowing in the distance.

  He stood by himself, alone, watching her.

  Eadmund.

  Edela walked towards him, hurrying, calling his name, but her voice disappeared before it reached the tip of her tongue. He looked right through her, so lost, his face pained in despair. She could feel the weight on his shoulders, see the grief in his eyes.

  Then Evaine was there, holding her hand out to him. Eadmund took it, his eyes on hers, and as she reached up to him, kissing his lips, the flames grew in front of them, separating them from Edela.

  And she couldn’t move. Couldn’t warn him. Couldn’t save him.

  And the flames weaved and twirled into a symbol that wrapped itself around Eadmund and Evaine, enclosing them inside its glowing amber light.

  A Tuuran symbol.

  Edela blinked. She recognised it.

  28

  The man scurried towards the throne.

  Bayla watched him, her back rigid, her hands twitching in her lap. She had heard rumours of the fire, had smelled the smoke, and seen the sky turn hazy, and it had clenched her heart. But what it all truly meant, she didn’t know.

  Not yet.

  The man stopped just before the throne, kneeling, out of breath. ‘My lady,’ he panted, his eyes dropping to the flagstones.

  ‘Up!’ she demanded, clearing her throat. ‘What has happened? Tell me.’

  The man, one of Haaron’s scouts, had been ordered to Hest as soon as Skorro had burst into flames, to warn the queen of what might come. He had not wished for such a mission. Bayla Dragos was not a woman anyone wanted to upset. ‘The king...’ he began nervously, his eyes struggling to aim anywhere near her emotionless face.

  Bayla edged forward, one eyebrow arching towards Irenna and Nicolene who had just entered the hall.

  ‘The king sent me to warn you...’

  ‘About?’

  ‘The fleet was destroyed, my lady. By fire.’

  Nicolene and Irenna both gasped as they hurried forward, eager to hear what had happened.

  Bayla felt sick. ‘Destroyed?’

  ‘Two of our ships escaped to Skorro. But then we watched as Skorro was set alight, too.’

  Bayla shook her head, not wishing to let her mind wander yet, not until she knew everything. Her throat tightened. ‘And Haegen and Karsten?’

  ‘They captured the Brekkan king, my lady,’ he said. ‘The Brekkans surrendered to them.’

  ‘And they both live?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But what about the Siluran fleet?’ Irenna wondered urgently, her eyes blinking in fear. Relieved beyond words to hear that Haegen had survived, she was desperate to know what had happened to her father, Prince Aris of Silura. He had led his fleet in support of the Hestian ships.

  The scout shook his head. ‘I cannot say, my lady. I believe some escaped, heading back to Silura.’

  Irenna’s mind was not eased. She had known that her father’s alliance with Haaron would not end well.

  Bayla frowned, irritated by her daughter-in-law’s interruption. ‘And you say that Skorro was on fire? A stone fortress? On fire?’

  ‘Yes, my lady.’ The scout dropped his head.

  ‘So, the Islanders have the fort, and your king has the Brekkan army,’ she mused, her mind whirring, her calm face belying the terror growing inside her chest; the fear that her sons were dead. ‘And now they will play a game of cat and mouse?’

  ‘The king wanted you warned, my lady,’ the scout said. ‘He is marching to Hest but may not make it back before word comes from Skorro. I saw a ship leave the island. It will be here soon.’

  Bayla swallowed. They couldn’t be dead. She wouldn’t forgive Haaron if they were.

  ‘Here, drink this,’ Biddy soothed as Edela yawned by the fire, her feet warming by the flames. ‘It will soothe you.’

  It was still raining heavily after a wild night of thunder and lightning which had frazzled both their nerves. Neither had slept well.

  Edela took the cup and sniffed. ‘Lemon balm?’

  Biddy nodded. ‘Your favourite, from memory.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Edela smiled, at last. Her dreams had been so vivid that she hadn’t been able to stop frowning since she’d crawled out of bed. Her shoulders finally relaxed as she sighed. ‘I’m so worried.’

  Biddy sat in the chair opposite, inhaling the steaming scent of the calming tea. ‘You are not normally one to worry.’

  ‘No, but I’m not normally the one who needs to rescue someone. Not like this.’ She shook her head, feeling the warmth of the liquid through the cup. ‘I am so old and hopeless now. How am I supposed to battle that girl for control of Eadmund?’

  ‘Do you think there is a way to bring him back? To..
. release him?’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ Edela’s eyes widened. ‘That symbol... if I can just remember that symbol exactly as I saw it, we can work on unbinding him. There were many things in that Tuuran book the elderman gave me. If only I had brought it with me when we left Tuura.’

  ‘If you had, they may have sent more men after you.’

  ‘Yes, which is why I left it behind in the end,’ Edela admitted. ‘I knew they would want Aleksander and perhaps try to come to Andala for him. Taking the book would only have made them more determined.’

  ‘Can we take the candle and stones from her?’ Biddy wondered, smiling at Vella, who put her paws on her knee; she was missing Jael and Eadmund. Biddy put her cup down and picked her up. ‘We could ask Runa or the wet nurse?’

  ‘I have thought of that, but even if we could, I don’t feel it will be enough. And it would cause great problems for Runa,’ Edela frowned. ‘Perhaps we should visit Entorp? He may be able to help me with the symbol.’

  Ivaar spun around furiously, lowering his voice, biting down on an urgent desire to yell. ‘With him? With her? What does that mean, Hassi?’

  Hassi of Rikka took a step away from Ivaar’s venomous spittle. ‘It means that they led us to a great victory. What reason do I have to go against them now?’

  They had wandered down onto the beach, away from the fort and the thick-headed Islanders who were moping about in search of more ale in the dull light of the morning.

  ‘We had an agreement.’

  ‘No, Ivaar,’ Hassi insisted, squaring his broad shoulders and glowering up at Ivaar’s pinched face. It had started to rain, and he was eager to get inside the fort but not until Ivaar understood. ‘We had conversations, not an agreement,’ he said firmly, his pock-marked face turning red with irritation. ‘And as it stands, I agree with Eirik. He has left the islands in good hands. After what we saw out on the sea? And here?’ Hassi looked back towards the fort, but they were still alone. ‘It would make no sense to try and force a change now, especially if...’

  ‘If what?’ Ivaar snapped.

  Hassi looked awkward, knowing Ivaar’s temper as he did. He pulled nervously on his long, white beard. ‘If you killed your father. If you did that...’

  ‘I didn’t do that!’

  ‘But if you did, then Eadmund will kill you, and even if you didn’t, I imagine that he will come for you anyway. It is only his wife holding him back now,’ Hassi suggested. ‘Have you not seen the way he looks at you? He is ready to gut you.’

  That was not news to Ivaar, not like Hassi’s disloyalty, which had come as a surprise. Because of Jael. He shook with rage. ‘And the others?’

  Hassi shook his head. ‘You will have a hard time finding anyone prepared to go up against Jael and Eadmund now, Ivaar. That victory... it united us. That was the sort of victory that will be sung about for generations. And we are all still here because of Jael, to see what happens next. For the first time ever we have a part to play in this kingdom because of that victory,’ he said proudly.

  But Ivaar wasn’t listening as he watched Hassi’ old eyes gleaming with possibilities. If his support had dried up, if the lords were all leaning towards the new king and queen and away from his claim to the throne, then his position here, trapped on this tiny island, was looking very precarious indeed.

  Conditions had quickly become treacherous as rain hammered the marching men, streaming into their eyes and mouths, drenching them through. The dry and dusty paths had turned to sloppy mud, their boots sucking into it as they walked; sodden, muck-coated boots on miserable, wet, shivering bodies.

  This was the sort of weather that rusted mail and rotted feet. But there had been no stopping as Haaron marched them solidly from first light, desperate to get back to Hest before the messenger from Skorro. He had watched the ship’s journey from the island with one eye as he rode, certain they stood no chance.

  Now, Haaron had to imagine what he would do. He wondered whether his sons lived. He thought he would care less than he did. Perhaps it was his pride confusing his emotions? The idea that his enemy could attack him, destroy his fleet, take his island, and kill his sons? That was not something he could dismiss lightly, no matter how desperate he had been to remove the threat Jaeger posed. Bayla would be devastated, and he could not see a way around that.

  If they were dead.

  And then there was Lothar’s proposal. If his sons lived, that was something to consider. Helsabor was an attractive proposition indeed. He had no regard for the weakling king that was Wulf Halvardar; a man so pathetic that he refused to fight anyone. Ever. Except of course, in defense; something he was especially skilled at.

  Haaron wiped the rain out of his eyes for the hundredth time and sighed, turning to Haegen, who looked morose. ‘Your wife will be upset with news of her father’s demise.’

  Haegen blinked, surprised; his father had barely spoken all morning. ‘We saw a handful of Siluran ships turn. Aris may have been on one of those.’

  ‘Well, you can only hope,’ Haaron smiled happily, taking pleasure in irritating his son, despite the fact that Haegen was easily his favourite. ‘I don’t expect your wife will be very happy with you if not.’

  Haegen shook the rain out of his long, sandy hair. ‘I imagine not, but her father made an alliance with you. He could not refuse to play his part. That’s hardly how an alliance works. Irenna will understand that,’ he said without confidence.

  ‘Alliances are certainly a way for us to build a bigger kingdom, wouldn’t you say?’ Haaron mused, watching for his son’s reaction. ‘Before Aris and I came to an agreement, we fought and lost many men and ships. But trade has made us both richer and stronger. And of course, you have Irenna and the children.’

  Haegen nodded, turning to his father. ‘I agree. But whether it is right in every instance, I’m not sure. It depends what is on offer.’

  ‘Of course,’ Haaron agreed. ‘There would be no point in an alliance without a prize. But sometimes you need help to claim something you could only dream of achieving on your own.’ Haaron’s eyes wandered over the cliffs again as they rode along, side by side, but not for long. Soon they would narrow down even further as the mountain pass grew more challenging.

  He could no longer see the ship from Skorro.

  Eydis sat by the fire, stroking the purring cat Gisila had placed on her knee, hoping it would comfort her.

  They were all being so nice to her – Gisila and Amma, her servant, Boelle, and even Gisila’s servant – as they fussed about, making sure she had everything she needed. But she didn’t want or need anything except her father.

  Or a dream that would help find his killer.

  Eydis had come to despise her dreams, or at least, her inability to manipulate them. She thought of Ayla and Edela often, wishing they were here to help her, to show her what to do. She had lain there for two nights, holding everything she could, trying to find a path to the answers she so desperately sought. She had to get the proof Eadmund needed to kill Ivaar before he tried to take Eadmund and Jael away from her, too.

  ‘Eydis?’ Amma reached out and gently touched the sleeve of Eydis’ light-blue dress. ‘Are you ready for something to eat?’

  Eydis jumped, then froze, her mouth hanging open in horror at what she had just seen.

  Amma gripped her arm, worried. ‘Eydis? What has happened? Are you alright?’

  Eydis said nothing. What could she say?

  Jaeger needed to piss. Urgently.

  The man guarding him had fallen asleep.

  Jael kicked Torstan in the shin as she approached. ‘It’s you who are supposed to be watching him, not the other way round!’ she grumbled as Torstan jerked awake. ‘Go find a bed.’

  ‘I, I, only closed my eyes for a moment,’ Torstan insisted groggily, scrambling out of his chair.

  ‘Well, go and close your eyes somewhere else! I’ll stay here.’

  Torstan looked suitably remorseful as he trudged away, yawning, much like everyone else
in the fort today, who had drunk themselves into such a state that they were barely able to open both eyes at the same time. It was, at least, welcomingly quiet.

  ‘I need to piss,’ Jaeger muttered.

  Jael didn’t blink as she took a seat. ‘Well, don’t let me stop you.’

  Jaeger looked less than impressed by that response. He clenched his big hands into small balls, his knuckles turning white.

  ‘Shall I get you some water?’ Jael asked, setting her lips in a straight line, her eyes fixed on him.

  He ignored her, looking away, his eyes roaming around the blackened mess of the hall, the stink of it still strong in his nostrils. ‘And what do you think you’ll do without your fire jars? Without your arrows? When my father comes?’

  Jael leaned forward. ‘For you?’ she mocked. ‘From what I hear, that won’t be the case, and no doubt I’ll have that confirmed soon. Hopefully, tomorrow. Although, I think he would appreciate your confidence in him, that he was successful against my uncle. That he would launch a rescue to reclaim you and your brother,’ she smiled, then frowned. ‘You forget that I’ve been fighting your family for 10 years, so I know that Haaron doesn’t have the slightest bit of interest in whether you live or die.’ She eyed Jaeger coldly and stood up. ‘I think I’ll go and speak with your brother. So far he’s been much more helpful than you.’ And without another word, she wandered off to Berard, motioning for Fyn to join her. ‘Get Thorgils,’ she whispered. ‘He needs a piss. Thorgils has plenty of experience with that!’ And smiling to herself, Jael turned to Berard. ‘And how’s your bladder feeling?’

  Berard blinked nervously, confused, as she pulled over a stool and sat down in front of him.

  Jaeger wanted to scream as he watched her. The bitch. The fucking bitch. He would kill her. She was making a mistake to even think about negotiating his release because he would kill her.