Winter's Fury

by A. E. Rayne

  ‘Oh, I just had an odd dream about Fianna the other night,’ Edela said lightly, taking a quick sip of milk and shielding her eyes from Branwyn’s keen stare. ‘I suppose it was only natural for her face to appear as I’ve been spending so much time with Aleksander. But it was just very odd. She seemed different in my dream, almost untrustworthy.’ Edela shook her head, unsure of how to lead Branwyn on without opening up a gaping hole of trouble.

  ‘Fianna?’ Branwyn frowned. ‘No, you would never say that about her. She was incredibly loyal, especially to Gisila. Gisila trusted her with everything, including Jael.’

  ‘What do you mean, including Jael?’

  ‘Well, don’t you remember, there was that incident when Jael was a toddler, and she went missing.’

  Edela’s eyebrows shot up; she had completely forgotten about that. ‘I do, yes. She disappeared for an entire afternoon, didn’t she?’

  ‘Gisila told me about it, how everyone in Andala had been looking for her, fearing the worst, and eventually, they’d found her wandering about in the forest, all alone.’

  ‘Yes, they thought that a servant had tried to take her away, as she disappeared at the same time and never came back,’ Edela breathed, her heart racing.

  ‘That’s right,’ Branwyn nodded, poking at the fire. ‘Well, after that, Gisila trusted no one to care for Jael, apart from Biddy and Fianna. She trusted her completely. So, perhaps you are right to think that Aleksander is like her. She was a good woman.’ She smiled sadly at her mother, losing herself in the events of that terrible night again.

  Edela didn’t know what to think. Someone had tried to take Jael as a toddler. How could she have forgotten that? And Branwyn was right; Fianna had been very close to Jael, so why would she have sent men to kill her? It made no sense.

  ‘I think I may head for my bed,’ Edela mumbled, almost to herself as she eased her aching bones out of the chair.

  ‘Already? But we haven’t eaten yet. Kormac’s not even home!’ Branwyn looked up, surprised, but her mother wasn’t waiting.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about me. I just need to go and dream awhile.’ And she crawled under her bed furs, wriggling into the softest spot she could find and closed her eyes. She had to find answers.

  Jael yawned as she clambered onto the bed beside Eadmund. She had no idea why she had promised Thorgils that she could wake him up by morning; she had no idea how to do it at all. She sighed as she lay there, wedged between Eadmund and the wall, listening to his barely-there breathing, occasionally interrupted by a loud pop from the fire.

  As a young girl, Jael had hated being alone at night, and would often crawl into Edela’s bed and listen to her soft voice as it soothed her to sleep. Edela would stroke her long, dark hair and tell her that she would become a dreamer when she grew up, just like she was. Jael would get so cross to hear that. She didn’t want to be a dreamer at all. She wanted to be a warrior like her brothers were training to be. She wanted to be like her father. She wanted to rule Brekka. Jael tried to ignore her dreams when they came. They didn’t come often at all because she wouldn’t let them, or at least that’s what she told herself. But Edela insisted that she had inherited the gift of dreams and that it would be with her always.

  Jael turned to look at Eadmund’s face. She reached out and touched his cheek, almost shyly. It felt like ice and Jael shivered, pulling the furs closer to her body, tucking them over Eadmund. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, reaching out to grab hold of his arm; he didn’t move and nor did she. If Edela couldn’t be here to save him, then she would have to. Somehow.

  It was so quiet in the hall; uncomfortably so. Most of his men and their families were eating in silence, Eirik noticed, as he looked up from his plate. He took a long drink of ale and sighed. He’d walked himself to a standstill during the day, trudging through the snow, wandering far away from the fort, trying to get rid of the cloud that he’d carried over himself for weeks. He could see now how much everything had changed, how far away he was from everything he had hoped for.

  Turning to his left, he saw Ivaar smiling away to himself as he ate, oblivious to the mood of the people; that was a worry. A king needed to be aware of his people, to anticipate their needs, to manage their expectations. Ivaar gave him the impression that he would be happy to ignore any needs but his own. Then there was Isaura, who would not meet his eye. Who could blame her, after his humiliation of the poor girl? That was it. There was no Morac, Eadmund, Jael or Thorgils, no Eydis even, who didn’t like to eat with Ivaar, it seemed. He had thought a communal meal in the hall would help bring everyone together, but all it did was show him how much everything had fallen apart.

  ‘I was harsh on you, Isaura,’ Eirik admitted, running a hand through his beard as he turned towards his daughter-in-law. ‘Perhaps we could try again, tomorrow? I know Vesta means a lot to Eydis. I would like to see her smile again.’

  Isaura looked up tentatively. ‘I understand,’ she said quietly. ‘Our return has not been an easy time for anyone.’

  ‘No, that is the truth,’ Eirik said sadly. ‘But perhaps Vesta is a chance to smooth everything over? Leave all the broken things lying in the past? It will be a new year, a time to start again. We can all benefit from that, I think.’

  Isaura didn’t know what to say. She nervously sipped on her ale. ‘Eydis has been helping me today. Perhaps we can all meet tomorrow and finalise our plans?’ she suggested. ‘We made a lot of decisions, so there won’t be much to talk about, I promise.’

  Eirik laughed. ‘Well, I’m sorry for barking at you like a rabid dog. I’m sure I can stand a few more questions before I do it again!’

  Isaura glanced at her father-in-law. His face had relaxed, and he appeared less ready to attack her. ‘Perhaps we can ask Jael to join us? She can tell us how they do Vesta in Brekka?’

  ‘I imagine that one would rather stick herself in the eye with a sword than do that, but you can always try!’ Eirik winked, missing his other daughter-in-law suddenly. He hadn’t seen her for days and felt the absence of her feisty company. Everyone was avoiding him, it seemed, and who could blame them? He would have to go and find her, and Eadmund, tomorrow and see about making some peace. He had to find a way forward for all their sakes.

  Eadmund stood in the smoke as it belched out of the pyre. He tried to blow the stench out of his nostrils. It was not a memory he wanted to keep; the smell of her as she burned. Not that she was there anymore, he told himself. The flames were dying down, retreating, shrinking, revealing the nothingness that was left behind... of Melaena.

  Eadmund felt cold, but it was summer, he remembered. He could feel himself shaking, with unhappiness, with anger, with the overwhelming desire to merge into the smoke and drift away with Melaena’s ashes. He coughed as the smoke found its way into the back of his throat.

  ‘Here,’ she said. ‘You need a drink.’

  Eadmund turned around, angry before he even saw her face. He ignored her outstretched arm and the cup she was holding for him. ‘Get away from me, before I kill you!’

  Jael blinked, confused.

  ‘I know all about you and Ivaar, about her and Ivaar,’ he spat, turning back to the fire. ‘I’ve been blind to everything, but now I know all of it.’

  ‘You know nothing,’ Jael said firmly. ‘Nothing that is real. You’re dreaming, Eadmund. Nothing is real in here.’

  He turned back to her and took the cup; he was so thirsty. He drank, and it tasted horrible, like that cursed tincture. He spat it out and threw the cup away. ‘You and Ivaar, that was very real. The way you were with him...’

  ‘No, it wasn’t,’ Jael insisted, stepping closer. ‘No, that was your fear. That what happened with Melaena will happen with me. That I will be trapped by him too. But look at me... do I look like I’m going to let Ivaar have me? Really? You think I would choose a man like that?’

  Eadmund stared at her. She was dressed for battle, in mail, her sword at her side, her hair braided.

 
‘I’ve come for you Eadmund. I’ve come to take you back.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you have to save Oss. You have to kill Ivaar. And if you stay here, he will destroy everyone and everything you love.’

  ‘Including you?’

  ‘Me? No, Ivaar won’t destroy me, but I won’t be able to stop him destroying everything else. Not without you.’

  The bitter smoke made him cough again, and he stepped away from the pyre, away from Jael, and she let him go.

  ‘I’ve seen a lot of things,’ he said slowly, turning back to her. ‘But most of all, I’ve seen how stupid and weak I’ve been, how much I let Ivaar take from me. And I did nothing about it, nothing at all.’

  ‘Well then, come here so I can take you back, so that you can stop him.’

  ‘And how will you do that?’ he wondered as he stepped slowly towards her. ‘How will you get me out of these nightmares?’

  ‘Like this,’ Jael breathed, and she leaned up to his face and gently kissed his lips.

  Eadmund blinked, surprised and unsettled. He looked towards the pyre, but it had gone. And they were in the snow. And that smoky taste in his throat was seven-years-old, and he wasn’t there anymore, and nor was Melaena, but Jael was, and he took her face in his hands and kissed her back.

  46

  Gisila shivered as Arnna hobbled around the bottom of her dress, muttering away to herself. Arnna’s fire was only spluttering, barely there, but she didn’t appear bothered by the chill, which was surprising given how little skin was covering her ancient frame.

  ‘Hmmm, it’s a shame there was no time for a new dress,’ Arnna grumbled. ‘This is well-made but old now, and the moths have had their way with it somewhat.’

  Gisila didn’t care. She had simply picked the first dress she had seen in her chest; the chest where she kept all her memories of a different life. She thought of Ranuf regularly, wishing he was here to slit Lothar’s throat from ear to ear. He would have been furious with the damage his waste of a brother had inflicted upon Brekka and his family. She sighed, letting his face slip helplessly back into the past. What was the point in such fantasy, she told herself, when all she had was the now of it, and that was a wedding to Lothar in two days.

  Arnna stretched up and grabbed Gisila’s hands in hers. ‘We will make the best of it, I promise. You will look like a queen again, don’t worry.’

  Gisila could feel the tears tumbling down her cheeks, but she did nothing to wipe them away. ‘I don’t care if I look like a servant when I marry that man,’ she sniffed. ‘So don’t trouble yourself too much. Just tighten it a bit, and that will be enough.’

  Arnna frowned and peered up at Gisila’s morbid face. ‘Oh my dear, you must think of how good it will feel to be queen again! You forget how much power there is in being a queen, especially with a husband who desires her as much as Lothar does you.’ She bustled off to her kitchen and poured Gisila a cup of wine. ‘Here, drink this. Better than an old rag to stop your tears!’ She bent down and continued to assess the prospects of the dress.

  ‘Lothar might desire me, as you say,’ Gisila cringed, sipping on the tart wine, ‘but I can’t think of anything good that will come of that.’

  ‘There are many ways a woman can get what she wants,’ Arnna cackled. ‘And there is also much a woman can endure if she has a mind to. How many women do you know like Jael, who can take what they want with a sword? None! And even she couldn’t get herself out of a marriage she didn’t want. But that daughter of yours is tough. She will find a way to make it right.’ She stood up again and started to creep her away around the middle of the dress, pinning the waist in; Gisila had lost a lot of weight since she was last Queen of Brekka. ‘There are many ways to feel powerful, instead of powerless, that don’t require a sword. You just need to think of them. Stop seeing yourself as weak. There is strength in you, Gisila. You must remember that. Surely Jael didn’t inherit all that fire from Ranuf alone?’

  Gisila took a large gulp of wine, letting Arnna’s words swirl around her head. She dropped her shoulders back and held her head a little higher, remembering how it felt when she had walked around Andala as queen. It had not been that long ago at all; how had she forgotten so quickly? Arnna was right; there was a chance here to take back some of what she had lost. If only she could survive the disgusting things Lothar planned to do to her. She shuddered but didn’t retreat. Surely she had enough strength in her to withstand that?

  ‘Thorgils! Where have you been hiding yourself?’ Eirik called as he walked towards the fur-covered figure who had stopped, frozen to the spot, not far from Eadmund’s cottage. ‘I was just going to find that son of mine. I haven’t seen either of you for days!’

  There was a smile on Eirik’s face that Thorgils hadn’t seen in a while, which was unfortunate, as today was the day they were going to tell him about Eadmund. He didn’t want to do it now, though, not until he had a chance to speak to Jael, to see what had happened in the night.

  ‘Oh, well, things have been... difficult... lately,’ Thorgils said awkwardly, ducking his head, lest his eyes betray him. ‘I don’t suppose either of us have enjoyed the changes around here very much.’

  ‘No,’ Eirik agreed, his smile fading. ‘No, I suppose not, but there is no choice. Ivaar is here now.’

  ‘For how long?’ Thorgils wondered.

  Eirik paused, he hadn’t thought about that. ‘Well, I suppose he will return to Kalfa soon. I know he wants to stay for the contest, so perhaps he will leave after that? He has to sort out his affairs in Kalfa, and I will need to find a new lord for sure.’

  ‘Maybe you could send Tarak to Kalfa?’ Thorgils suggested cheekily. ‘I’m sure he would love to be a lord.’

  ‘A good idea!’ Eirik laughed. ‘If only I didn’t need his sword so much.’

  ‘Ahhh well, wait till the contest is over, then you will see if you still need Tarak,’ Thorgils warned.

  Eirik raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s confident talk after what he did to you last time.’

  Thorgils blinked that memory away. ‘Time has moved on. I’m better than I was.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Eirik smiled. ‘If only Eadmund could say the same.’ He stepped past Thorgils, who moved to stop him.

  ‘Thorgils?’ Eirik stared at him, puzzled.

  Thorgils dropped his head. ‘There’s something you should know,’ he muttered into his beard.

  Eirik felt himself tense all over. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’

  It was the cold that woke her. Her teeth were chattering so much that she bit her tongue and jerked awake, her eyes bulging from the pain. The fire was long gone, and the room was ice-tinged in the early morning light. Jael leaned over and peered closely at Eadmund’s face. She shook her head and sighed. He hadn’t moved; nothing had changed at all.

  Jael crawled out of bed despondently, wrapping a fur around her shoulders. She shuffled over to the fire, grimacing at the now familiar pain in her back. Thankfully, Thorgils had left everything she needed nearby, and Jael yawned her way through setting a new fire, trying not to send sparks into her fur instead of the tinder she had placed in front of the kindling. As the flames started to take, she sat back, leaning against a stool, staring at the bed. So much for thinking she could do anything, she told herself miserably. So much for her being the one to save Eadmund; everyone had been wrong there. She’d had no dream that she could remember; nothing had happened at all, and now they would have to tell Eirik. She was not looking forward to that.

  Standing up, she took her fur to the bed and laid it over Eadmund, tucking it around him, brushing her hand over his cheek, making sure she could still feel his breath, cold on her skin; that was something at least. She stood there for a moment, then shivered, wondering where she’d left her cloak.

  The door banged open, and Jael jumped in surprise, reaching instantly for the sword she didn’t have; it lay wrapped up in the cloak she couldn’t find. It was Eirik, and Thorgils was not far b
ehind him. Jael glared crossly at Thorgils as Eirik barged past her, striding towards the bed.

  Jael moved to stop him. ‘Wait! Eirik, just wait a moment!’ she tried.

  ‘I want to see him,’ Eirik demanded crossly, his eyes tight with concern.

  ‘He’s resting,’ Jael tried again.

  ‘Resting?’ came the faint croak from behind her, and she spun around to see Eadmund, starting to move, his eyes fluttering open. He coughed, tried to sit up, but fell back, exhausted. ‘Is that what you call it?’

  Jael couldn’t move; she stared at Eadmund in disbelief.

  Eirik sighed with relief as he sat down on the bed. ‘Thorgils said you’d been unwell, very unwell. And by the look of you, he had it right.’

  Eadmund felt so weak, he could barely keep his eyes open. ‘Well, you can blame these two here for that,’ he rasped crossly. ‘They’ve been trying to cure me. They stopped me drinking, tied me to a chair.’

  ‘Really?’ Eirik murmured, raising his eyebrows in Jael and Thorgils’ direction. ‘Well, sounds like a good idea to me,’ he smiled. ‘I wish I’d thought to do that earlier. I wouldn’t have needed to call Ivaar back.’

  Eadmund flinched at the sound of his brother’s name but his gaze remained sharp as he rested it on Jael. ‘I don’t suppose everyone is disappointed that Ivaar’s here, though, are they Jael?’

  Thorgils and Eirik blinked at Jael, and she blinked at Eadmund. She didn’t know what to say; what had he been dreaming about? He was back from the dead and ready for a fight, it seemed.

  ‘Hello?’

  They all turned their heads to see Biddy standing awkwardly in the open doorway, struggling with a basket of food that looked far too heavy for her small frame. Thorgils rushed over to take it from her and ushered her inside.

  ‘You’re awake!’ Biddy smiled at Eadmund, then noticed the cross look on his face and the tension on everyone else’s. She frowned, confused. ‘I’ve brought food if anyone’s hungry?’