by A. E. Rayne
Fyn could see the passion in her eyes when she talked about her father; he wished he could feel the same way about his own.
‘So now, because of all that work he put in, and I put in, nothing scares me,’ she insisted. ‘I have fear. I get nervous before a battle or a fight, but I never feel scared because I know I can find a way to stay alive. I have confidence in what I can do, in what I have learned. If you have that, then you can welcome the shakes or the shits, and you can just move forward and kill to survive.’
Fyn stared at Jael, trying to locate that pit of confidence that lived so far down inside himself, he often wondered if it existed at all. Her words resonated with him, though, so he dug deep and dropped his shoulders back, rocking his head from side to side. ‘Alright,’ he decided at last. ‘I’ll try.’
Jael smiled; she was genuinely pleased. She stepped back and put her hands up in tight fists. ‘Good. I’ll defend myself a little, and you try to hit me.’ She moved from side to side. ‘But do try, Fyn, because my tits are freezing out here!’
Fyn looked so shocked that Jael burst out laughing.
He gulped in a deep, icy breath and came forwards, circling in front of her, his fists close to his chest, white trails of winter-cold puffing from his nose and mouth. He smiled in an attempt to distract her, and then rushed one fist towards her face, but he was slow and predictable, and Jael knocked him away effortlessly.
‘Go for where my hands aren’t, Fyn,’ she suggested. ‘As far away from them as possible. There are no rules in a fight for your life. You want to kill your attacker as quickly as possible. So, you can move around in front of me like you’re dancing and it’s very pretty, but all I’m thinking about is how long before I can get you on the ground. That’s your goal. Get me on the ground.’
Fyn looked daunted but undeterred, and he started circling again, assessing his options. Jael was alert and fast in her movements, but he took her advice and tried to surprise her with a swift jab towards her lower ribs. He used his left hand, which did surprise her, but as he wasn’t naturally strong with it, the hand came at her too slowly, allowing her to anticipate its fall. Jael twisted backwards, grounded her weight on her left foot, and swung her right leg around, snapping her boot quickly into the side of Fyn’s head. He flew into the snow.
‘Are you alright?’ Jael asked, trying not to laugh at the look on his face as he sat up and stared at her, horrified.
‘You kicked me in the head!’
‘Yes. And now you’re on the ground, and I can finish you off,’ she grinned and held out a hand. ‘But I won’t because you have promised me a hot fire, for now, my tits are truly frozen!’
Fyn took her hand. ‘You kicked me in the head,’ he said again, as he stood.
‘Does it hurt?’
‘A little, but not as much as my pride,’ he smiled bashfully. ‘That hurts quite a lot. I’m glad Thorgils wasn’t here.’
Jael laughed, walking over to give Tig a couple of small carrots that had frozen in her pocket. Happily, his little shelter was mostly snow-tight and almost large enough to keep him comfortable. The sky was darkening, though, and she was conscious of the need to have her conversation with Fyn before conditions made their return journey treacherous.
‘So, did your father teach you that, kicking people in the head?’ he wondered as he waited for her to follow him into the hut.
‘Not him, no. He never did that,’ Jael frowned, imagining her very stern, traditional father doing such a thing. ‘But he found someone who did.’ She followed Fyn inside, rubbing her frozen hands together. ‘He brought many different people to Brekka, from all over the world to train me. As I said, he was driven by a desire to keep me safe. So, he tried to find every way possible.’
The fire barely had any life in it, so Fyn hurried about, stoking it up again.
‘You must get so lonely living here?’ Jael suggested, looking around his little, broken home. ‘With no one to talk to every day?’
Fyn looked up at her, sadly. ‘Well, I have never been good at talking to people, so I don’t mind it too much.’ He grabbed his cauldron and hung it over the struggling fire, filling it with water.
Jael sat down, close to the flames, desperate to warm her shivering limbs. ‘What about your family?’ she wondered, trying to subtly edge her way towards the subject of Evaine. ‘Don’t you miss them? I think you said your mother visits you? But what about your sister?’ Subtlety wasn’t Jael’s strongest skill.
Fyn visibly shuddered.
‘Evaine, isn’t it?’ she continued. ‘I met her the other day. A very pretty girl.’
‘I suppose,’ he said tightly. ‘But not especially kind.’
‘No? That’s a shame for you. A mean father and a mean sister. That is some bad luck.’
Fyn shook off her words but saw that she looked genuinely sad for him. He sprinkled some dried leaves into two cups. ‘Do you like lemon balm?’
‘Yes, perfect,’ Jael smiled wistfully, remembering her grandmother’s favourite tonic for any ailment.
‘It is bad luck I suppose, but then, I have a kind mother, a good mother,’ he considered as he placed the cups on a stool, grabbing a small pot nearby and scooping out a tiny dollop of honey into each. ‘It’s not easy on her, that I’m here and she is alone with... them.’
‘Your sister is difficult, then?’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Difficult? More than difficult. She is... not evil, she just... she considers no one but herself. Ever. Anything or anyone that stands in her way, she removes, one way or another.’
Those were strong words, Jael thought to herself. ‘How?’
‘How?’ he considered, peering into the cauldron, watching for bubbles. ‘Evaine just seems to have a way of getting every obstacle to disappear. How? I’m not sure. Perhaps it’s the way she looks or...’ he paused. ‘I don’t know. Except that, of course, she didn’t get her way where Eadmund was concerned.’
Jael’s ears pricked up. ‘Eadmund?’
Fyn realised that his tongue had wandered far away from his head. ‘Oh, I...’
‘It’s alright,’ Jael rushed to reassure him. ‘I can tell that she has feelings for Eadmund. I don’t care. I have none myself.’
‘Feelings?’ Fyn looked doubtful. ‘It’s not feelings that she has. It’s an obsession.’ He spoke freely now, convinced by Jael’s casual interest and calm words. ‘She’s been obsessed with Eadmund since she was a child. Which is strange, don’t you think?’
‘Perhaps it’s true love?’
‘It’s something, that’s for certain. It’s all she has spoken of for years and years.’
‘And now there is me,’ Jael pondered. ‘Her biggest obstacle yet. So, what do you think she is going to do about me?’ She watched Fyn’s face, looking for any clues as to what he truly thought but might be too timid to reveal. But she had underestimated him.
‘That, I couldn’t say,’ he insisted gravely. ‘But I would be careful around her. There is just something about Evaine that is... dangerous. I can’t explain it any more than that. But I do believe she would do anything to get him back.’
Jael considered that. It was nothing she didn’t suspect already, but having her fears confirmed was a good start. She needed more, though. ‘There is no Tuuran blood in her, is there?’ she asked softly, keeping her voice light, hoping to keep Fyn talking. ‘She doesn’t possess any gifts I should be worried about?’
Fyn frowned, shaking his head. ‘Not that I’m aware of. Perhaps that would explain some things, but no, our parents were both born as slaves, here on Oss. So there is nothing special about her there.’
Jael was disappointed. He didn’t know anything that could help her. There was no explanation for the face Edela had seen, except that perhaps it was a warning, painted so darkly that it was impossible to ignore. Perhaps that is all it was; a warning for her to stay alert around this obsessed girl, who meant her genuine harm. Or was it more? Her threat had now been clearly identified. She was sli
ghtly wiser, but still, it wasn’t the result Edela would have hoped for when she had walked into her dream. She needed to find Eydis to see if she could help her with the symbols.
Jael broke out of her trance and caught Fyn rubbing the side of his head. ‘Is your head alright?’
He grinned. ‘It still works, I think.’
‘That’s good,’ Jael smiled, standing up.
‘You don’t have to leave just yet, do you?’ Fyn stumbled to his feet. ‘You haven’t had your tea, and I can heat us up some stew I saved from yesterday.’
‘No, no, that’s generous of you, but I think the snow will make it much harder to find our way back if we don’t leave now,’ Jael insisted very firmly, not wanting to revisit the taste of that stew ever again. ‘Besides, more stew for you to enjoy. You will need a good meal after all that hard work!’
Fyn looked disappointed to be losing her company.
‘If you don’t mind getting kicked some more, I’ll come again,’ Jael suggested as she headed out into the snow, pulling her hood up.
‘Yes, that would be good. Perhaps next time, I’ll see you coming!’ Fyn laughed as he walked her to the shelter, where Tig was starting to get impatient.
‘I don’t think so, but I like your confidence,’ Jael grinned as she untied the reins.
Looking suddenly more serious, Fyn glanced at Jael. ‘Be careful around Evaine,’ he said thoughtfully, wiping the falling snow out of his eyes. ‘I can’t say she’d be foolish enough to try and hurt you, but I know how strongly she feels about Eadmund. She won’t rest until he belongs to her.’
‘Well, she is welcome to him, he’s no use to me!’ Jael said dismissively, swinging herself up into the damp saddle. ‘I shall be back, hopefully, tomorrow if the weather improves, so practice, practice, practice! And maybe start working on some shields. We could use a few of those.’
Jael tapped Tig lightly, and he dug his hooves into the deep snow, slowly gaining traction as he carried her up the hill. She turned around to wave to the lonely figure, isolated in a landscape of almost pure white, wondering just what she was going to do about his problem sister.
17
Aleksander failed to look up in time.
He had been meandering slowly, knee-deep in the memories of his night with Edela, still bothered by the stink of those herbs in his nostrils, when he saw Osbert, Lothar, and Amma blocking his path. Stopping immediately, he realised that they were all looking at him, talking amongst themselves, but watching him. Fighting the urge to turn and run in the opposite direction, he ploughed on reluctantly.
‘My lord.’ He acknowledged Lothar with a brief nod of his head. ‘Osbert, Amma.’
‘Aleksander!’ Lothar smiled broadly, one of those ingenuous smiles that he used so regularly. ‘I wasn’t sure we’d ever see you again. Where have you been?’
‘Well, I –’
‘Father, that is very insensitive of you,’ Amma interrupted. ‘Forgive my father, Aleksander. He sometimes forgets that people have feelings, especially men, but of course, it must be a hard time for you, losing Jael, as you have.’
Lothar eyed his daughter crossly, not appreciating her public rebuke.
Osbert eyed his sister curiously, noting the pink flush on her cheeks when she looked at Aleksander.
Aleksander didn’t know where to look. ‘I... yes, it is not the best time, but then again there is spring to look forward to, and a battle with Hest is always a reason to keep heart.’ It sounded trite, but it was the sort of thing Lothar loved to hear, and his face lit up, just as Aleksander had intended.
‘Exactly! Those Dragos’ had better sleep well this winter as I’m certain it will be their last.’ He puffed out his bulging chest. ‘Gisila!’ Lothar removed his attention from Aleksander and gave it to Gisila and Axl, neither of whom looked welcome of it.
‘Lothar,’ Gisila nodded, her eyes barely acknowledging him before turning to Aleksander. ‘How are you?’
Lothar bit his lip peevishly. All the attention was on Aleksander today, it seemed.
‘I’m fine,’ Aleksander mumbled, dismissing her concern. ‘I was just going to buy some supplies for Edela. She is feeling unwell today.’
‘Is she?’ Axl looked worried. ‘I’ll come with you. I haven’t seen her for days.’
Aleksander wasn’t keen on acquiring any company but could do little to dissuade it in front of such an open-eared audience. ‘She’d like that, I’m sure. I just have to get the things she needs first. If you’ll excuse me.’ Smiling quickly at Gisila, and purposefully ignoring Amma, he slipped through the crowd, into the market, Axl loping after him.
‘He looks very thin,’ Amma said to Gisila. ‘Don’t you think?’
Gisila looked suddenly very uncomfortable to have been left behind with Lothar and his children. ‘Yes, he does. Perhaps I had better go and supervise him? I don’t expect he will make the best choices.’
‘No, no, Gisila!’ Lothar reached out and grabbed her arm with his pudgy, heavily ringed hand. ‘I was hoping that perhaps you would walk with me instead? There are some matters I wish to discuss with you.’
Gisila looked ill at the thought of being alone with him. ‘I, I...’
‘Come along now. It won’t take long, just a little chat between old friends.’ And he slipped her arm through his and led her off to the hall... the long way.
‘Poor Gisila,’ Amma giggled. ‘It looks as though Father has her trapped.’
‘But why would he want to?’ Osbert spat meanly. ‘She’s no beauty anymore. She has no status, no fortune. She’s worth nothing to him.’
‘Love isn’t about fortune or status,’ Amma scolded her older brother.
‘Love?’ Osbert was horrified. ‘You think he loves that?’ He laughed, scornfully.
‘You might mock, Brother, but I’m sure you have spent many nights wishing you had someone to love your miserable soul.’
Osbert’s eyebrows pinched together at that, and he leaned forward, his mouth uncomfortably close to Amma’s; she cringed backwards. ‘Well, love seems to be on everyone’s minds and faces today, doesn’t it, Sister,’ he smirked. ‘Does Father know about your little love-crush on Aleksander Lehr? Does he? Would he like to know, do you think?’
Amma knew her brother well enough to believe that he would do as he threatened, but she wasn’t about to be cornered by him. He was pathetic, and a bully, and although she knew he had their father’s ear, she was comforted by the fact that she had always been Lothar’s favourite. ‘Go ahead, do as you wish, Osbert. I may just tell Father myself if you don’t.’ She shoved him off her and stepped away, leaving Osbert to simmer in his lonely pile of bitterness.
Aleksander frowned at the paltry selection of vegetables available to buy in the market. Admittedly, the weather had affected the availability of fresh supplies, but still, the limp fare would hardly be what Edela was hoping he would bring back for her. He selected a bunch of tired carrots, a couple of soft turnips, and a withered cabbage. It was something. Perhaps he would see if he could bring her neglected vegetable patch back to life? It was better than wasting any coins she had on such pitiful produce.
Aleksander handed over one, tarnished, silver coin as payment, and shoving the vegetables into his small basket, looked around quickly, hoping the Furycks had gone. They had, from what he could see, but Axl was still lurking about. He had quickly grown bored of vegetables and gone off instead with a group of friends. Aleksander sighed. They were empty-headed types, the sort of men-boys who thought they knew all things. And they were the wrong sort of friends to have whispering in your ear if you wanted to stay alive.
‘Axl!’ Aleksander called loudly. He raised an arm, ushering him over.
Axl came willingly enough.
‘Do you still want to come and see Edela?’ Aleksander wondered, walking slowly through the busy crowd, mud and snow-wet to his ankles.
‘Sure,’ Axl smiled, falling in alongside, raising a hand to his friends as they passed.
‘So... what do you think your sister would say if she saw you talking to those fools?’ Aleksander wondered, trying to keep his voice light.
‘They’re not fools,’ Axl grumbled. ‘They’re my friends, and what would it be to her anyway, if she were here to care?’
‘Well, keeping you safe is something she would think is to do with her, and those boys are more about making trouble than keeping you safe, don’t you think?’
‘Why do you say that?’ Axl asked, annoyed.
‘Because,’ Aleksander lowered his voice as they slipped between two rows of houses set right on the street front. ‘I know boys like that. Boys that want fame and think they can get it the easy way, by riding along on someone else’s cloak. Your cloak. Thinking that if you become king, then they will become rich.’
‘They’re not like that,’ Axl insisted. ‘They want me to have what I’m owed, what was given to me by my father. That’s all. Why shouldn’t I have friends who think that? Better than ones who think I’ll just be this nothing my whole life.’
The streets merged into broad paths now and were thicker with snow as they turned towards Edela’s. There were fewer houses, and fewer homeowners happy to clear walkways this far out of the town centre. It was quieter too, as both men brooded along, the crunch of their boots in the snow suddenly very loud.
Aleksander stopped and grabbed Axl’s arm. ‘I don’t blame you for feeling that way. You’ve had something that was taken from you. I’ve had experience of that recently,’ he smiled wryly, but Axl’s face was unmoved. ‘They’re not going to help you get it back, though. They’re just going to get you killed.’
Axl sniffed loudly at that, wiping his nose on the back of his glove. ‘So you say, but why shouldn’t I give them a chance, listen to their ideas? Who else is going to help me? Jael? Well, she had her chance. For two years she had her chance to help me change things after Father died, but she did nothing. Both of you did nothing. And now she’s gone, so it’s up to me to change things. No matter what you say, Aleksander, I’m going to do something... with, or without your help.’
