Winter's Fury

by A. E. Rayne

  27

  ‘Are you alright?’ Aleksander asked for the third time, glancing behind himself. He hadn’t yet decided if it was better to ride in front, or behind Edela. He’d tried both, switching regularly, and each position had kept him in a constant state of anxiety, wondering whether she was falling behind, or stumbling off the path. He carried the responsibility for her safety as a heavy pack on his back.

  ‘Yes, yes, of course!’ Edela croaked crossly. ‘It’s just a bit of bread caught in my throat. I’m still breathing back here!’ She tapped Deya lightly, and they moved up alongside Aleksander. ‘You must stop worrying so much. I’ve not seen my end on this journey, I promise!’

  The look on her face relaxed his, a little. He sighed, feeling the pain in his shoulders; the tension that had kept him prisoner since Jael left, offered him no respite. He wondered how life was for her now? If she thought of him anymore? If she was carrying her child yet? He shuddered at the image of her being with Eadmund, but at the same time, it would mean she was one step closer to coming home; he was certain of that.

  ‘So, tell me then,’ Edela smiled craftily. ‘Tell me why you think she’s coming back to you?’

  Aleksander started, unsettled by the timing of her question. He swallowed. He’d been expecting this but wasn’t sure how much of an answer he was prepared to give. ‘Well, I just believe that she is.’ He stared into the distance, watching soft, grey clouds rush towards them; he couldn’t see any snow on the horizon yet, which was a good thing. ‘I’ve had my own dream about it.’

  Edela made a noise somewhere between a cough and a groan. ‘I see. Different from mine, was it?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ he wondered, honestly. ‘Did you ever see Jael coming back to Brekka? To me?’

  Edela rolled words around her tongue, considering which ones she needed to pick. In the end, she couldn’t see any other path to take; he needed to know. ‘I did see her returning to Brekka, yes, but Eadmund was with her.’

  Aleksander said nothing but she could see that she had shocked him. His mouth hung open, his eyes flooded with despair.

  ‘You were so certain that she was returning to you?’

  ‘I had a dream, a vision,’ he said faintly. ‘I only saw Jael and her child. Not him. In the dream, we were together again. I am sure that’s how it was.’ He frowned, digging back into his memories, hoping to find any clue he may have missed; hoping to prove Edela wrong.

  ‘But it was just a dream,’ she said kindly, ducking under a drooping branch. ‘And you have had dreams and nightmares your whole life. Why did you believe in this one so much?’

  Aleksander watched the lean of the trees in front of them. The wind was picking up again, he thought absently. The further north they climbed, the harder the weather would get.

  ‘Aleksander?’

  ‘I saw the Widow.’ He couldn’t even look at her.

  Edela said nothing but her whole body froze in horror. That was a name she hadn’t heard whispered for many years.

  Aleksander felt her shock and rushed to fill the awkward silence between them, his words tumbling out now. ‘She gave me a tincture, told me to drink it, that the gods would send me the dreams I needed to have. That’s when I saw it, Jael and her daughter coming to Brekka, back to me. But I never saw him. He wasn’t in my dream. I am certain of that. He wasn’t there.’

  ‘The Widow,’ Edela began, then shivering, she stopped, inhaling a deep breath. ‘The Widow is no one you should ever seek guidance from. Her very soul has always been black with evil intention. I didn’t even know she still lived.’ She shook her head, her eyes seeking out Aleksander’s. ‘She would not have helped you for any reason other than to cause pain, to you, or someone else. That was always her way. She doesn’t help or heal, she hurts. Everyone she meets. You should not have sought her out.’

  Aleksander saw the fear and anger in her eyes, but he’d clung to the hope of that dream; it was all he had. He wasn’t prepared to give it away, no matter what Edela thought.

  The new snow made for slow walking. It was well over her knees, and Jael had barely stepped away from the house before she considered going back to change her trousers; no wonder so many smiling Osslanders were wearing leather wraps around their legs! As she walked away, she could hear the plaintiff cries of Ido and Vella, who were not going to be let out for a while yet, and were miserable because of it.

  Jael wondered how Tiras was faring this morning in his piss-stained trousers? Had she truly intended to kill him? Possibly not, but it had taken an enormous amount of willpower to keep her blade from tearing his throat open. Her heart had hardened so quickly. She had felt nothing watching his distress, nothing but pleasure at the terror she saw in his eyes. But in the end, it would have cost her more to kill him, than let him go. He was Lothar’s favourite pet, and his death would have caused trouble for them all.

  Jael sighed, lifting her legs higher, trying to step over the snow instead of wading through it. There were too many shit-filled people walking about, she decided, on Oss, and in Brekka; too many people who didn’t deserve the breath that filled their lungs. Surely it was time one of them met their end?

  Jael trudged towards the hall, wanting to see how Eydis was faring. She could imagine that her father’s news would have been a hard thing to hear, no matter how much she had seen it coming. Perhaps Eydis would know what had happened to Eadmund?

  As she walked past a block of stables, Thorgils staggered into her path. He faltered when he saw her, squinting at the blanket of snow spread before him.

  ‘Slept with the horses, did we?’ Jael smiled, then grimaced. Her cheek ached, and her eye was no better; she could barely see out of it.

  Thorgils blinked at her groggily, trying to make his mouth work but it was too dry, so he tried to clear his throat instead, which hurt his head and made his eyes water. ‘I’m either going to fall into the snow and drink it, or you can drag me to the hall so I can get something to wet my tongue,’ he croaked, staring at her pitifully; a slouched wreck of a man.

  Jael grinned and slipped her arm through his, hoping he wasn’t about to lean his substantial bulk on her. Thorgils stunk, almost as bad as Eadmund had when they’d first met, and she turned her head away as she helped him limp towards the hall.

  The cold air started to revive him, and before long he was almost upright. ‘Have you seen Eadmund? Did you speak to him?’ he wondered, noticing the stares they were getting as they staggered through the snow. There were not many people about this early, but those who were seemed intent on whispering and staring.

  ‘No, he never came, but Eirik did.’

  ‘Oh... well then, you know everything,’ Thorgils muttered, hanging his head, the misery of yesterday’s events snuffing out any hope of a better day.

  ‘Yes, and by the look on your face, so do you.’

  ‘I do, indeed.’ He shook his head, then remembered how sore it was and stopped. ‘We should be at Fyn’s already, but I don’t even know if I can lift a sword today.’

  ‘Well, that’s good news for me and my one eye, then,’ Jael grinned as she helped him up the snow-covered steps to the hall. He stumbled. ‘Careful! You’ll have us both on our faces if you don’t open your eyes wider!’

  Thorgils tried blinking to clear his vision, but everything was just a white blur. He sighed morosely as Jael opened the door, pausing, unsure how he felt about seeing Eirik this morning. ‘I think... maybe we should get a drink elsewhere.’

  ‘Why?’ Jael stopped and let the door close.

  ‘I’m just not sure I can face it yet. Why don’t we ride to Fyn’s? I can cling onto Leada, let the breeze blow some sense into my thick head.’ He stared down at Jael sadly. ‘We can talk about some things.’

  ‘We can do that, although, with all this snow, I’m not sure the horses will be too happy.’

  ‘True,’ he nodded. ‘But I think they’d be even less happy to stay shut up in the stables all day. Besides, at least one of us needs to practi
ce and even more now,’ he muttered, lowering his voice. ‘With Ivaar coming, who knows what’s going to happen on Oss. I don’t imagine either of us will be safe much longer.’

  Eydis knew all of Eadmund’s hiding places; he’d had so many over the years. He’d not been intentionally hiding, most of the time, but somehow he’d just ended up falling asleep in the same places, over and over again.

  They had checked four of them now, without any luck, but Eydis had a strong sense that Eadmund would be in the fifth place. He had to be; she had run out of ideas.

  ‘Are you warm enough, my lady?’ Biddy wondered anxiously for the third time.

  Eydis had come early, seeking Jael’s help to track down Eadmund but had wound up with Biddy instead, who had no intention of letting her go exploring on her own; not in this much snow.

  ‘You must call me Eydis, Biddy. My lady sounds like I’m my mother,’ she smiled sadly.

  ‘Well, Eydis,’ Biddy said severely as she pulled the shivering girl towards her to avoid an oncoming group of snow shovellers. ‘You’re shaking, and I think we should go back now. We’ve found no sign of that brother of yours, and you need to change your clothes. All of them!’ She looked down at Eydis’ wet cloak, dress, and boots. Her own clothes were clinging to her legs, and she couldn’t stop thinking about how nice it would be to go back to the house and sit by the fire.

  ‘Just one more,’ Eydis pleaded, arms out in front of her now, feeling around. ‘I think we’re here. Is it a small cottage, all by itself? With antlers over the door? No windows?’

  ‘Well, I suppose so. They all look much the same around here. But it could be the place.’

  ‘Good, then I’ll go in and see. You can wait for me here,’ Eydis smiled confidently, pushing on the slightly crooked door.

  Biddy looked distressed as she called after her. ‘Well, I’m not sure I should just let you go in there. It doesn’t look the cleanest place for a lady to go...’ But her words fell onto the snow and stayed there, ignored, as Eydis disappeared through the door.

  The air inside the cottage was frigid, and Eydis couldn’t hear or feel a fire. She shuddered, noticing for the first time just how wet her clothes truly were. She heard nothing but the hollow sound of her boots on the floorboards; she was surprised a place this small had floorboards.

  ‘Eadmund?’ Eydis asked quietly into the nothingness. ‘Are you in here?’ She sensed someone nearby; could hear someone breathing. The cottage stunk, of stale ale and other things she didn’t want to imagine. Eydis followed the faint, snuffling noises until she felt a bed, and, using her hands, she found a leg and a space, and sat down. ‘Eadmund!’ Eydis squeezed the leg as hard as she could.

  Eadmund sat upright, blinking in shock as the cold grabbed hold of his body. He gasped, surprised to see the shadowy little figure of his sister sitting nearby. ‘Eydis! What are you doing here?’ He squinted at her with one eye. ‘You shouldn’t be here, it’s freezing!’ His head was full of fog, but he had enough sense to scramble up and wrap his bed furs around her. ‘How did you get here? You’re wet through!’ he croaked, shaking his head, trying to wake himself up.

  ‘Biddy brought me. She’s outside, so perhaps you could put your head out and tell her that she can go home now. I don’t want her standing around in the snow getting cold.’

  ‘Biddy?’ Eadmund mumbled, stumbling towards the door, his head pounding with every step. ‘Who’s Biddy?’

  Eydis rolled her eyes and sighed. ‘That is how we got into this mess in the first place!’

  Eadmund opened the door to see a middle-aged woman, dressed in a plain, brown cloak, with a fierce look on her face; she appeared ready to break into the cottage. Seeing him, however, she took a step back, and her face relaxed.

  ‘I take it that you’re Eadmund?’ Biddy said, wrinkling her nose at the foul odours that had escaped through the door.

  ‘Yes, and you’re Biddy?’ he shivered, wondering where he’d left his cloak. Again. ‘Eydis is sending you home. I will bring her back to the hall when she’s done telling me off.’

  Biddy couldn’t help but smile at his swollen-eyed, miserable face. Despite the look and the stink of him, there was something there that she warmed to. ‘Well, you are both more than welcome to come back to your house instead, if you like. I shall have something hot waiting, and I know two puppies who would like the company.’

  Memories started shifting around in Eadmund’s head, and he put them all together with a crooked smile. ‘My house?’ he said slowly, then frowned. ‘What about Jael?’

  ‘Well, you needn’t worry about her. She’s gone riding with Thorgils. I don’t imagine they’ll be back for hours.’

  Eadmund scratched his head. ‘Perhaps we will. That does sound more appealing than seeing my father.’

  ‘Good. I had better hurry back and start cooking then,’ Biddy said, nodding quickly, remembering all the chores she had been in the middle of when Eydis had whisked her away; she would have to move fast.

  Eadmund closed the door and came back into the room. ‘Ahhh, Biddy...’ he sighed joining his sister on the bed. ‘My wife’s servant?’

  ‘Your servant too, if you ever went to your own house!’

  ‘Well, it’s too late for that, isn’t it? It hardly matters now.’ Eadmund hung his head, remembering the look on Eirik’s face when he’d told him about his plans for Ivaar. He had never seen such fury in his father’s eyes; such heart-aching disappointment. He lifted his head up, shaking the memories away.

  Eydis reached out for Eadmund’s hand. ‘It’s not too late.’

  ‘I can’t get Evaine unpregnant, or make Jael pregnant in one day, Eydis. It’s too late,’ he told her firmly. ‘Everything’s too late.’

  ‘Eadmund, listen to me,’ she pleaded. ‘I saw Ivaar coming. I saw Evaine with your child. I have seen many things, some of them far into the future, but I don’t believe we can’t change them. Why else would the gods show me what’s coming? It’s a warning, isn’t it, so that we may have a chance to do something, to stop the bad things from happening.’

  Eadmund felt ashamed of his own weakness as he glanced at his little sister’s face. She was desperately clinging to hope, whereas he was ready to fall down and give up. Every part of his body was trying to convince his mind that going back to sleep was the best way to deal with the situation or ale; if he could just find more ale.

  ‘Well, that makes sense of all this,’ Jael said, motioning towards Thorgils’ miserable looking figure as they rode carefully down the slope towards Fyn’s. ‘I don’t blame you at all. But surely seeing Isaura again is something you can look forward to?’

  Thorgils shrugged. ‘With him? Seeing her with him? What if she does love him? What if she’s stopped loving me?’ He sighed deeply. ‘What if she hasn’t?’

  Tig’s hooves slipped, and Jael had to catch herself from falling forwards. ‘Whoa, Tig.’ She gave him a reassuring pat, resettling her weight backwards. ‘You can’t worry about any of those things, can you? Not now, at least. When you see her, you’ll know the answer to all of your questions. But until then, don’t think on it, it won’t help you. You have to keep your mind and your body on the contest. That’s the only thing you have any control over. Any more mornings like this and you won’t even get a chance to meet Tarak, let alone have any hope of defeating him.’

  Fyn waved his sword at them, an eager smile on his freckled face. He must have been out clearing the practice area since dawn, for he had moved enough snow for them to begin right away. Although, Jael thought, feeling her swollen eye, and glancing at Thorgils clutching his belly, he might have done it all for nothing.

  Morac sighed heavily. He should be too old to care by now, but he did. He frowned, remembering the look on Eirik’s fuming face when he had ordered him to remove Evaine from Oss. Ordered. Like he was his servant. Is that what he truly thought of him now, after all these years; no more than a servant? He supposed it was true; he had put himself in that position. Eirik was so u
sed to him bending to his every whim, that he took more and more advantage as the years wore on.

  It had all been so different once, when they were boys. Eirik had been like a little brother to him then. Morac had looked out for him, taken care of him. All those nights when Eirik’s father used to beat him, it was Morac and his sister, Morana, who had tended to his wounds, who had given him comfort and friendship, who had ultimately helped him escape and take revenge upon his father. It was so long ago now, and they had both forgotten so much, it seemed. Morac had been the leader then. He had saved Eirik’s life; how they had both forgotten.

  But Morana hadn’t.

  She looked as withered as an ancient tree, he thought, as he stared at his younger sister. Her black and white hair hung loose, down to her waist, wild and matted together; her skin wrinkled like weathered bark. But her dark eyes were still sharp, and they sought his out in the dim light of the cottage. ‘Without us, he would have turned to ash before he’d even begun,’ she spat angrily. ‘Does he not remember? Is he so old that his memory box has broken?’

  Evaine sat on a small bed, leaning against the wall, barely listening. She stared at her hands, her eyes hurting, her breasts aching, her heart breaking.

  ‘Time will do that to memories,’ Morac said wryly. ‘It can twist and shape them into whatever it is we want them to be, whatever comforts us and allows us to sleep at night. Eirik is not alone in that.’

  ‘No, I suppose he is not,’ Morana conceded reluctantly, sipping on a foul-smelling brew. ‘But he owes you more than he has ever acknowledged. He is King of Oss because of you. And now, instead of giving you thanks, he is ripping your family apart, piece by piece. Soon it will just be you left, and then.... no one.’

  She was being dramatic, Morac thought, knowing his sister as he did. But Eirik had banished three members of his family now. How was he to hold his head up on Oss ever again?