Winter's Fury

by A. E. Rayne

  She had saved him, he knew, but now that he was saved, what did he do? He was almost as fat and still as useless as he was before. Still as far away from being any sort of man that his father could believe in. Eadmund bent forward, leaning on the wobbly railings, feeling the heavy ache in his arms and back. He sighed and turned around, thinking that perhaps he would go and find Eydis. She could always help him see the things he couldn’t.

  ‘So, it’s true then. You do live!’ Ivaar sneered as he walked up to his downcast brother.

  Eadmund cringed at the sound of that slippery voice. He pulled himself up, feeling the pain in his shoulders as he pushed them back, raising his head higher than was comfortable. ‘I do, yes,’ he spat angrily. ‘And I’m coming for you, so you’d better watch your back.’

  ‘Ha! I like your spirit,’ Ivaar said without blinking. ‘Coming for me? I am terrified. Truly, I think I just pissed myself. You have me shaking, Brother!’

  Eadmund did nothing but stare. They weren’t just words, he realised. He knew what he had to do now; Jael had told him as much in his dream. He had to kill Ivaar. Ivaar could never be King of Oss. He didn’t need Eydis to help him see that. He stepped forwards, straighter and taller than Ivaar. ‘Good. Shake away, because I will kill you. Has your dreamer seen that? Perhaps she’s too scared to tell you how you’ll die because it will be the longest, slowest, bloodiest death you can imagine.’ And he turned around and walked back towards the Pit, slipping through the railings and heading for the shed.

  He was going to find a sword.

  ‘What?’ Osbert choked on his porridge, which was not surprising; the thick mulch of oats was so dense, it felt as though he was swallowing dried mud. ‘My room?’

  ‘Yes, your room,’ his father mumbled calmly, handing him a cup of ale. ‘It makes sense. Axl is young. He needs to be kept in line. And Gisila and I can’t do that if he’s roaming about Andala all night. Better that he’s under our roof, where we can keep him safe.’

  Osbert took a quick sip of ale and swilled it round his mouth. ‘And where will I go?’

  ‘Well...’ Lothar mused as he shovelled porridge into his mouth quite happily. ‘You’re old enough to have a wife and a house of your own now. After Hest, we can think on a suitable marriage for you, but in the meantime, go find somewhere you like. There are plenty of good looking houses in town. Anyone would be honoured to give up their home to the son of the king.’

  Osbert glared at his father, wondering if he’d gone mad. This was Gisila’s doing. Or was it Axl’s? Perhaps they were working on a way to remove him? He thought on that. Who could blame them? She was becoming queen again. Why wouldn’t she want to raise her son up to the status he once had.

  Osbert frowned. Axl was fast becoming a problem he would have to do something about.

  Ayla had woken late and was only now finishing dressing, in the small cottage Ivaar had found for her in the middle of the fort. It was very small but private, and except for Ivaar’s regular visits, she was able to enjoy the luxury of being unobserved by strangers for the first time in a year.

  She had barely slept, tortured by endless dreams. But nothing she saw showed her a way out of the prison Ivaar had so carefully trapped her in, and everything else was just a mess of blood, and death, and darkness. Sleep would help her to find some hope, she knew, but her dreams only served to take it away.

  Ivaar burst through the door in a rush of red-faced fury. ‘You and I need to talk!’ he growled, pushing her back towards the bed.

  Ayla blinked at him in fear, stumbling backwards. His eyes had narrowed into dangerous slits, which either meant her wanted her clothes off, or he had plans to hurt someone, and right now she couldn’t tell which one he had in mind. ‘What is it?’ she asked nervously as she fell back onto the bed, one strap of her pale blue dress hanging down, still unpinned.

  ‘Have you seen my death?’

  ‘What?’ Ayla looked genuinely shocked. ‘Why do you ask that?’

  ‘Answer me, Ayla!’ He grabbed her shoulder, his lips twisting angrily. ‘Have you seen my death?!’

  ‘No,’ she breathed. ‘No, I haven’t. I promise, I haven’t.’

  He sat back and looked her over, watching her eyes dart about like fleeing beetles. She looked so surprised that he found himself believing her... just.

  He put his hands in her hair, pulling her face towards him, his mind racing with the memory of Eadmund’s words. ‘What about my brother? Tell me, what will happen to him? He seems different. He suddenly wants to kill me.’

  ‘Oh.’ Ayla swallowed nervously, beginning to understand the cause of Ivaar’s outburst. ‘But hasn’t he always wanted to kill you? After what happened to his first wife? Doesn’t he blame you for her death?’

  Ivaar thought about that. She was right; that was not new, so what was, and why did he suddenly feel threatened now? Why now? ‘Tell me about him,’ he urged. ‘What do you see for him?’

  Ayla looked away, closing her eyes, hoping that it would give her enough time to clear her face of anything she didn’t want him to see. What Ivaar needed to know was not what she actually saw, but what would make him feel reassured. And it was her job to put him at ease; to stroke his ego, as well as his demanding cock. She shuddered. ‘Your brother, as I’ve told you before, meets his end under your hand, with his wife next to you. I have seen that strongly.’

  Ivaar frowned sharply. ‘Yes, you have said that many times, but how do I know it is the truth? How can I trust you? They are just words, and you can pick any you wish to placate me.’

  She tried to look insulted. ‘Why would you doubt me? I have no choice but to tell you everything I see. You will find no secrets in my eyes, Ivaar!’ she lied as boldly as she dared. ‘You must remember that dreamers don’t see everything that will happen. We are only shown what is important. That is all. I have seen you as king, and you will destroy your brother, as you want to. I cannot tell you anymore.’

  Ivaar stared at her so intensely that she felt her stomach lurch.

  ‘You have, you have told me that many times, and I want to trust you, believe me. But I promise you, Ayla, if I ever find out you’ve been lying to me, or not telling me everything you see in your dreams... I will cut your husband’s throat myself and make you drink his dying blood.’ And with that he pushed her back onto the bed and tore off the other strap of her dress, ripping it angrily away from her body, pushing his lips onto her chest, down over her breasts, as they shivered in the morning chill. ‘Hear my words, Ayla,’ he breathed into her, ‘and never think you will get away with betraying me.’

  Thankfully, Branwyn had gone to visit Aedan’s family. His wife was heavy with child and Branwyn had started to spend much of her time there, fussing over her daughter-in-law, excited about the birth of her first grandchild.

  It meant that the house was empty; even the servant had gone off on an errand.

  ‘Is this why you were so quiet yesterday?’ Aleksander wondered as he pulled a stool towards Edela’s chair.

  She shivered nervously and leaned closer to the fire. ‘Yes. It is.’ Edela was finding it hard to meet his eye. ‘I had a dream...’ she gulped. ‘About your mother.’

  Aleksander looked puzzled; he stared at her blankly. ‘What was my mother doing in your dream?’ He shook his head. ‘Is this about that night? The night she died?’

  Edela looked at him anxiously, wringing her gloved hands as she tried to think of how to order her words in a way to lessen the hurt she knew would follow. ‘Yes. I dreamed about her writing a note to someone. I don’t know who, and that is part of the problem. It was certainly her. I saw her wedding ring. It was very distinctive. That’s when I suspected, but then I also saw her face in another dream. It was certainly her.’

  ‘A note? What did it say?’ He suddenly felt odd. Edela looked so serious. This was not a secret he wanted to hear; he knew that now.

  ‘It was alerting someone about our visit to Tuura,’ Edela sighed, taking a deep breath. ‘The
note said that Jael would be going to Tuura and it said when.’

  ‘It mentioned Jael?’ Aleksander could hear his heartbeat louder than the crackle of the fire now. His breathing had slowed, but his heart was racing. ‘Why?’

  She was going to have to lead him there slowly, she realised. ‘The men that came to Tuura that night came looking for Jael. They killed Evva, thinking she was Jael. But no one knew why they had come or what they wanted. But now I know who sent them there...’

  ‘What?’ Aleksander stood up and glared down at Edela. ‘What do you mean? Ha! My mother?’ he asked incredulously. ‘But she was killed by those men! My father was killed by those men! Are you saying she sent people to murder Jael? And then herself? No! Why would she do that? She treated Jael like a daughter. She adored Jael! I used to be jealous of how much she loved her. Besides,’ he shook his head, walking around the fire, lost in the memories of that night. ‘Besides the fact that she loved Jael, she loved my father too. She would not have sent people to kill either of them. Or anyone. My mother was gentle! Don’t you remember her, Edela? You must remember how she was! She was so kind and...’ He came back to Edela, kneeling before her. ‘No! Don’t do this to me. Please. Don’t take my mother away from me, not the memory I have of her. Go back into your dream. See it again. See the note again. You must!’ He reached out and grabbed her hands. ‘You are wrong. You are so wrong about this, Edela...’ He sat back on his heels, losing his breath. ‘You must be...’

  ‘Then help me,’ she pleaded, her eyes full of tears and guilt for the pain she was causing. ‘Help me understand what I have seen. Dreams are hard to interpret sometimes, but I have been doing this for so many years now. I know what I saw. I promise you that I would not have told you if I wasn’t certain that what I had seen was real. I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t think it was important, if I didn’t think it could help Jael.’

  Aleksander looked up. He wanted a drink. He wanted to disappear, far away from all of this. He sighed, staring at her, seeing the sadness on her face. She wanted to help Jael, not destroy him; he could see that, but his mother? He shook his head. ‘I don’t see how I can help you. The woman I knew didn’t write a note to have a little girl killed. Jael was like her daughter.’ He hung his head in his hands. ‘I can’t help you, Edela. I just can’t.’

  Edela sighed, rubbing the tears out of her eyes, cursing her dreams for only ever giving her half a story. If Aleksander couldn’t help her, who could?

  Ido and Vella were beside themselves with glee as they jumped up on the weary figure who stumbled in through the door.

  Biddy got up to join them and helped Jael off with her cloak. ‘You look ready to fall down,’ she said sternly. ‘What have you been doing all day? Although, perhaps I shouldn’t ask...’

  ‘I’ve been training with Thorgils,’ Jael yawned as she handed Biddy her sword belt and sat down to take off her boots, her eyes barely open. ‘All day long.’ She yawned again, her eyes watering.

  ‘Well, the stew will be ready shortly,’ Biddy murmured, coming back to peer into her cauldron. She gave the thick, brown gluck a stir and sat back down with her mending. Jael had a habit of putting holes in her socks quickly, and she’d been working through a pile of them all afternoon.

  Jael looked up with little enthusiasm. She bent down to pat the furry faces that were demanding her attention, then yawned again and stood up. ‘I just need to lie down for a moment, just a moment,’ she mumbled, almost to herself, as she headed for bed. Oh, how she had missed her bed.

  The puppies followed her and jumped onto the bed before she did. Jael blinked in surprise; surely she hadn’t been gone long enough for them to grow that big? They burrowed under the furs and lay there, waiting for her, taking up a lot more of the bed than they once had. There was still plenty of room for her, though, and she crawled in beside their warm bodies, piling the furs over herself, her eyes closing before her head hit the pillow; her head already full of dreams of Eadmund. And Aleksander.

  ‘Torstan tells me you were training today,’ Thorgils began as he sat down with a groan, every limb throbbing after his day with Jael.

  ‘Ha!’ Eadmund laughed. ‘If you can call holding a sword and swinging it around few times training, then yes, I suppose I was.’

  ‘You have to start somewhere,’ Thorgils smiled wearily, rubbing his wrist where Jael had caught him with her sword, more than once. She had been in an unforgiving mood, and he was certain he was bruised from head to toe. He had needed it, though, they both had.

  ‘True,’ he leaned forward and stared into Thorgils’ eyes. ‘I’m going to kill Ivaar. I always thought about killing him, thought about taking revenge on him, but today I decided I was actually going to kill him. So, yes, it was a start, but I’m a long way from being able to kill anything more than an overfed flea right now.’

  ‘So, what made you decide that, then?’

  Eadmund added another log to the fire. ‘I had a lot of dreams while I was stuck in that bed. Confusing dreams,’ he frowned. ‘But one thing I am certain of is that Ivaar has plans to kill us all, including Eydis. So, I’m going to stop him.’

  ‘And what about Jael?’ Thorgils wondered, noticing the smile that crept its way into Eadmund’s eyes when he said her name. ‘Where was she in all this?’

  Eadmund shook his head. ‘In my dreams, she was with Ivaar.’

  Thorgils looked surprised.

  ‘But then she came and got me, brought me back,’ he smiled. ‘So, I’m choosing not to believe that part of my dream.’

  ‘Sounds good,’ Thorgils agreed. ‘But why are you still here, then? In this pile of shit? Alone? Surely you have warmer options than this now?’

  Eadmund laughed, then frowned; that was a good question. What had happened to her today? Was she regretting everything? He was plagued by doubts but trying hard to hold onto the belief that last night had meant something to them both. He hoped it was the start and a way forward, not a mistake. ‘I’m not sure. Jael’s a complicated woman.’

  ‘She is that,’ Thorgils said, rolling his eyes in agreement. ‘You’re in for a very interesting marriage with that one, I’m sure. Best you keep up your training. Could come in very handy!’

  48

  Aleksander was cross with himself. He’d drunk more than he could remember in a while and somehow he’d ended up here. In bed. With her. He had forgotten her name, or perhaps he’d never asked it? He closed his eyes and sighed, feeling the pounding intensify, like a hammer between his eyebrows. She was awake, he knew that; awake and naked next to him, just as he was naked next to her. If only his head would stop hurting so much, then he could move, find his clothes, find a way out of wherever he was, and quickly.

  ‘You can leave,’ she said then, her voice soft. ‘The door is not locked.’

  Aleksander opened his eyes, feeling foolish. He turned awkwardly towards her and smiled. ‘I’m sorry, it’s just that, I...’

  ‘You don’t need to say anything to me,’ she said shortly and got up from the bed, searching for his clothes.

  The light in the sparsely furnished room was dim. It was very cold, and Aleksander could see his breath blowing out before him. There were rays of light seeping through the holes in the walls, and the sound of voices filtered in loudly as the town roused itself to life for another day.

  She found his cloak, weapons, and clothes on the floor, near his boots. Wrapping them all up in a pile, she brought them back to his side of the bed and left them there before rushing back under the furs, her skin shivering in the icy air.

  ‘Thank you,’ Aleksander mumbled, unable to even look her in the eye. He felt so much guilt for what he had done but at the same time, wondered why? Jael was married, sleeping with her husband now, perhaps enjoying it too. Why shouldn’t he be doing the same? But it was different, he knew. He had a choice, Jael didn’t. Besides, part of him had wanted to wait for her.

  He grimaced as he sat up, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his head, the
acid swirling around his mouth. Still, the room was cold enough to make him move fast, and he dressed quickly, attaching his belt, ready to leave. He looked over to the bed then, at her. She was not Jael; there was no dark hair or mesmerising eyes. No scars. She was softer, and her round face was plainer, plumper, but it was pleasant to look at, he thought to himself; he must have had some idea what he was doing when he ended up with her. Just.

  ‘Take care of yourself, Aleksander,’ she said in a whisper. ‘Don’t do your drinking in such a public place next time. People are watching you.’

  Aleksander’s eyebrows shot up, and that hurt his head. He was puzzled. What had he said? What had he done, last night?

  He was here to help Jael, they both were, but how was he going to get past the fact that Edela believed his mother was responsible for sending those men to Tuura. He couldn’t. It was as simple as that. He would have to go back to Andala now, leave her to find her own way home after she had found out what she needed to. He wanted no part in it anymore.

  Aleksander headed for the door, then paused, wading through even more guilt. ‘Thank you...’ he mumbled quietly.

  ‘Hanna’ she said. ‘My name is Hanna.’

  He showed her the briefest of smiles, then ducked his head and slipped through the door into the murk of the morning.

  Hanna looked after him for a moment, her face troubled. He didn’t realise how much danger he was in. She wondered if she would ever see him again.

  Jael used to like Vesta. All that eating and drinking, celebrating Vesta, Goddess of the Sun; honouring her with gifts and sacrifices, trying to tempt her out of hiding, so that she would bring spring, and warmth, and light to feed the land. But now? Now she just wanted to crawl back into bed and sleep. Her mind and body were a twisted heap of brambles. She felt awkward and disloyal; uncomfortable in her own skin.