Winter's Fury

by A. E. Rayne

  Axl couldn’t raise a smile. Suddenly he had finer clothes again; his mother had seen to that. He was sleeping in his old bedchamber, eating at the high table, but it had all left a bitter taste in his mouth. He walked through the snow, kicking it absently with his boots, listening to the crack and squeak of the fresh powder under his feet. His mother was trying to be so brave, but he knew her better than anyone, and he could see how hard this was for her. She didn’t deserve this; somehow, he had to do something about Lothar.

  ‘It’s freezing this morning!’ Amma shivered as she crept up beside him, slipping her arm through his. She was covered head-to-toe in furry things, and Axl laughed to see it.

  ‘How can you possibly be cold wearing that many animals?’ he wondered, taken out of his misery for a moment. They had become very close lately, and Amma was the only person who could make him smile these days. He had abandoned most of his other friends at his mother’s insistence, finally. He knew what they wanted, had always known the underlying motives of their friendliness, but he saw now how much danger he had put his family in. He needed to be smarter if he was to survive, and he needed to survive to keep Amma and his mother safe.

  ‘Well, that may be true,’ Amma laughed. ‘But it is still the coldest morning I can ever remember. Although I’d rather be out here than stuck in the hall, watching your poor mother suffer under my father’s disgusting attentions.’ She cringed, peering around quickly, imagining herself in the same position one day soon. She saw it constantly now, and the worry was making her ill. She tried not to think of Aleksander anymore. Despite what Gisila had promised, she knew there was no hope there.

  ‘Agreed,’ Axl said sadly. ‘It’s not what she deserves at all.’ He pulled Amma closer to him as they walked down to the pier. ‘There is hope you know. A way we can all get out of this, I’m certain of it. I will find it Amma, I promise.’

  ‘Stealing from the king?’ Ivaar purred, stepping in front of her. ‘Dear, oh dear, that crime is punishable by... hmmm, I’m not sure what my father does these days, but I’m sure that whatever it is will be nothing compared to what I have planned.’

  ‘I shall look forward to it,’ Jael said coolly, holding a bundle of food close to her chest. ‘Luckily, though, the king himself gave me this food, so no punishment is necessary.’ Her skin prickled under his glare. There was no warmth between them anymore. No games to play.

  ‘I see,’ Ivaar murmured, circling her as she stood by the fire, waiting for him to finish his performance. ‘But what about the punishment for lying? Will you escape from that so easily?’

  ‘Lying? About what in particular?’ Jael frowned impatiently; she wanted to go.

  ‘Well, my little spy tells me that you and Eadmund are very much together now.’ Ivaar leaned towards her face. ‘Apparently, his return from the dead has prompted a sudden change of heart from you. You’ve forgotten all the things you told me, it seems. Forgotten Aleksander Lehr. Forgotten Brekka. Forgotten all that I could offer you. Your freedom, for one.’

  ‘Your little spy?’ Jael bit her lip, trying to stem the fury rushing towards her mouth. Why hadn’t she killed Tiras when she had the chance? ‘Well, he seems to be a spy with only one ear, as he only ever tells you half a story.’ Her eyes were cold and hard, as was the line of her mouth as she spoke. ‘Does he know anything about what happens inside here?’ she asked, pointing to her head. ‘Or here?’ she pointed to her chest. ‘Then how could he tell you everything and how could you suggest that I’m a liar if you only have half a tale? A tale from a spy consumed by the desire to destroy me? How could you possibly believe anything he says?’ she snorted. ‘He knows, what? That Eadmund is in my bed now? Well, do you love everyone you lie with, Ivaar?’ She let that hang in the air, hoping to confuse him a while. She didn’t care what he thought anymore, not really. But it was always better to keep an enemy guessing.

  Jael stepped around Ivaar and his pinched, angry face, and made her way to the hall doors. ‘It’s a shame, you know,’ she said sadly, ‘the choice of friends you made. It could all have been very different between you and I. I thought so much better of you when we first met.’

  She sent one final, frosty look his way, then pushed the door open, keeping her smile hidden until it had closed behind her.

  Ivaar glanced around himself, but he was alone, apart from Annet and Leya who were playing with their dolls on the floor by the fire. He was frozen to the spot, furious but unsure if he was angrier at himself or Jael. He watched the door, his eyes boring through its thick, wooden panels, his hands shaking by his sides. Jael was with Eadmund now, and Eadmund was with Thorgils, and they were all against him. But he had Tarak, and surely Tarak would destroy all of them in the contest. It was time to show Jael what a terrible mistake she had made.

  53

  There was not much room in Fyn’s hut, with Eydis squeezed in as well, so Thorgils moved to sit on the bed, which heaved beneath his fur-wrapped bulk. Jael shot him a worried look, but he brushed it away as he made himself comfortable, happily ignoring the warning creaks.

  Fyn had learned to have his fire high and his cauldron boiling in the morning so that his visitors could thaw out and warm up before training began. He sat around the fire, pouring hot water into the new cups Jael had brought with her. He was nervous around Eydis, who he knew, of course, but she was the king’s daughter; the king who had banished him, and her presence had him on edge.

  Eydis had been very upset to learn what had happened to Fyn; he had always been very kind to her, she said, and she couldn’t imagine why he would have been banished. Jael knew Eydis wouldn’t say anything to her father, but she made her promise not to reveal Fyn’s location anyway.

  ‘So, now that we’re here, you can tell us about your dream,’ Jael said encouragingly. ‘You can trust Fyn. He’s certainly not going to be telling anyone out here!’

  Eydis smiled, but her eyes still darted about anxiously. She began quietly. ‘Well, Ayla, Ivaar’s dreamer, has been teaching me how to control my dreams. How to focus on what I want to know.’

  Jael raised an eyebrow. ‘Ayla? I thought you didn’t like her?’ She cringed. ‘I was supposed to speak to her, wasn’t I? I’m sorry Eydis. With what happened to Eadmund, I completely forgot.’

  ‘It’s alright,’ Eydis insisted. ‘She is not what I thought, or at least, she is trying to help me, and I am grateful for that.’

  ‘You don’t trust her, do you?’ Thorgils grumbled from behind them. ‘She works for Ivaar. You can’t trust her.’

  ‘No, of course, I don’t,’ Eydis said firmly. ‘But I can take her advice without fear. I am certain of that. And besides, it helped, it really helped, for last night I had the clearest dream I’ve ever had. But it was very bad for you, Jael.’ She turned towards Jael, her eyes filled with panic. ‘I saw Tarak about to kill you.’

  Eadmund dragged the chest forwards and lifted the lid. The stench that drifted out of the box had them both gagging.

  ‘I think we might need to set fire to everything, rather than wash it?’ Biddy suggested, her nose wrinkling at the fusty dampness emanating from the chest.

  ‘Mmmm,’ Eadmund agreed as he fingered through his mouldy memories. ‘I doubt there is anything worth keeping in here at all.’

  There were tunics, undertunics, a stinking old cloak that, when he held it up, was more holes than fur. He found a belt, a few odd socks, a comb, and then, as he dug deeper, he discovered his battered, iron helmet, which he pulled out with a wistful smile. There were handfuls of rust-stained arm rings that his father had given him, and a mail shirt, which was in a poor way, but, he thought, could be saved. He laid it down next to his helmet and rummaged through the box again, pulling out some arm guards.

  ‘These could all do with a polish,’ Biddy hummed happily. She looked them over with interest. ‘Most definitely worth keeping.’

  Eadmund picked up a white tunic. Well, once it had been a white tunic; now it looked like a yellowish, moth-eaten rag. Eadmu
nd held it up, his face suddenly sad. He had worn it when he married Melaena. ‘This is not one for keeping,’ he said quickly and handed it off to Biddy, who was piling all the rubbish beside her. ‘But this...’ He lifted out his long neglected sword, his face breaking into a smile at last. ‘Hello, old friend,’ he murmured, holding the blade up towards the light. He twisted and turned it, but the rust had consumed its shine entirely.

  ‘Well, I see you’ll be busy today, then,’ Biddy laughed as she started organising her piles. ‘And I’ll have to go and speak to the tailor. You can’t get about in any of these rags!’

  But Eadmund wasn’t listening. He had his sword in his hand again, and he couldn’t stop smiling.

  Aedan’s wife, Kayla, opened the door. ‘Edela! This is a surprise. Please, come in.’

  Edela hesitated, happy to see that her pregnant granddaughter-in-law looked in such good health. The baby was due soon, but by the cheerful look on Kayla’s face, she had a while to go yet.

  ‘No, I won’t, thank you, I just wanted to speak to Aleksander,’ she said hopefully. ‘I thought he might come for a walk with me. We have some matters to discuss.’

  Kayla’s face fell. ‘I’m sorry, but he’s not here. We have not seen much of him at all,’ she shivered, wrapping her shawl around her large belly. The wind was blowing fiercely this morning and the air it swept about was bitter. ‘He does come and sleep here sometimes, but not often.’

  ‘Oh,’ Edela sighed in disappointment. She was desperately worried about him, and despite all her fears over his family’s increasingly dubious past, she needed to know how he was. He had been part of her family for so many years now, and she had always thought of him as another grandchild, but recently, he had become her closest friend. ‘Well, when you next see him, please tell him that I would like to speak to him. Very much.’ She blinked away the tears that had been threatening all day and turned to leave.

  ‘Tarak?’ Thorgils looked concerned. ‘Was about to kill Jael?’

  ‘Yes,’ Eydis said seriously, taking a sip of the hot tea that Fyn had carefully handed her.

  ‘So, I suppose that means he had already disposed of me, then?’ Thorgils said wryly.

  ‘But the contest is not a fight to the death,’ Jael insisted, ignoring Thorgils and trying to calm Eydis’ fears.

  ‘Well, he definitely doesn’t like you,’ Thorgils muttered.

  ‘No, but he’s not going to try and kill me in front of Eirik, is he? He would be killed for that, surely?’ She looked around, noticing Fyn’s shoulders were up around his ears as he sat there silently; he wouldn’t meet her eye.

  ‘When I went to sleep, I asked to see who was in danger,’ Eydis said quietly. ‘I wanted to see the truth of it all in my dreams. All the things I have seen lately have been confusing. I wanted to find out what was real, who I needed to help. I saw you and Tarak. It was a true vision, Jael, I’m certain of it.’

  ‘And he had me on the ground?’ Jael asked for the second time.

  ‘Yes, he had you pinned there, and you couldn’t breathe.’ Eydis’ eyes bulged in fear. ‘In my dream I was you, and I knew I couldn’t move. He was too heavy, and his hand was across my throat, and I couldn’t breathe, and I couldn’t move my arms or legs. He had a blade in his hand, and he brought it down, and there was nothing I could do.’ Eydis shuddered, tears springing to her eyes as she relived the memory.

  Fyn shook his head angrily. ‘You can’t fight him, Jael! If what Eydis has seen is true, he is going to kill you. You can’t put yourself in that position. You won’t survive!’

  Jael stared at his anxious face; she didn’t feel particularly concerned at all. Tarak was huge, and his weight could break her if he managed to get her onto the ground like that, but in front of everyone on Oss? The fight would be stopped if it came to that; she had heard the rules. It was not to be a fight to the death. But still, when she saw Eydis’ troubled face, she knew there might be something in it. ‘Well,’ she said firmly. ‘Now we know what we’re going to work on first this morning.’ She finished off her tea and stood up, reaching over to place her cup on Fyn’s tiny kitchen shelf, which was somehow still attached to the wall. ‘Thorgils, let’s go and lie down in the snow!’

  Aleksander placed the bundle of furs under the shelter he had hastily made from branches and leaves, and a large piece of cloth he had helped himself to from Kayla and Aedan’s cottage. It was not enough to protect everything from a heavy snowfall, he knew, but it would keep much of the bad weather at bay.

  He had been coming here on his daily ride since Hanna’s warning, secreting an ever-growing pile of supplies and essentials in his shelter, which lay well hidden off the main road, in a thick knot of trees. He didn’t necessarily think he was in danger, but he was keen to leave Tuura as soon as he had spoken to Edela, and it was better to be prepared. He sighed. He didn’t want to have a conversation with her, but no matter how angry he felt, he wouldn’t just abandon her here without a word. And of course, there was always that nagging question of what if Edela was right? He shook his head. He could never let that thought linger for long; the implications were too unimaginable.

  He took one last look at his little store, hidden away under a scattering of leaves, and hoisted himself up onto Sky, the only one who knew his secret hiding place; the only friend he had left now.

  Jael laughed as she walked into the house, which was not the reaction Eadmund had been hoping for.

  He stood by the fire, dressed in his mail, helmet, and arm guards, his arm rings pushed up high. He’d even managed to squeeze himself into his padded tunic. In truth, it was all a tight squeeze, but it wasn’t too far off, and although everything looked a little rusty, despite his and Biddy’s concentrated efforts, Eadmund felt more like himself than he could remember in years.

  ‘Is there a war on that I don’t know about?’ Jael wondered as she bent down to pat the wailing puppies. ‘Are we off to Hest already?’ She straightened up and walked over to Eadmund, trying not to smile. He looked slightly impressive in his armour, she thought to herself. There was a lot less of him than when she’d first arrived, and she was definitely starting to see the shape of a warrior emerge.

  ‘Well, no,’ Eadmund admitted as he removed his helmet. ‘We were just going through my chest, so I thought it was time to sort all this out, especially if I’m going to be using it.’

  ‘You’re not entering the contest are you?’ Jael looked horrified.

  ‘No, but thank you for your confidence,’ he grinned as he walked up to her, intending to exchange some form of affection. Jael walked right past him, though, and headed for the back room.

  ‘Is there a bath ready?’ she asked Biddy, wearily removing her cloak. Her hair was wet, and she shook from the cold. The thought of hot water had spurred her on during their ride home.

  ‘Ahhh, well...’ Biddy squirmed. ‘I filled the bath for Eadmund this morning, so there’s nothing there now.’

  Jael looked furious, and the triumphant smile on Eadmund’s face only made her fury double. ‘I see,’ she growled, stomping back towards the fire, hoping to get a little warmth from there, her eyebrows pinched together in an angry scowl.

  Eadmund tried not to laugh as he squeezed out of his armour, piece by piece. He bent over and shrugged off his mail, which eventually fell to the floor with a loud thump. ‘Come on, grab your cloak,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’

  Jael looked at him curiously. ‘Into the cold again? I don’t think so.’

  Biddy brought her cloak over as Eadmund slipped his around his shoulders.

  ‘For once, Jael, don’t argue, just come!’

  She was waiting in the stables when he returned.

  Aleksander didn’t know where to look; he certainly didn’t want to look into those eyes again. ‘Edela, I have nothing to say to you. Not about my mother, anyway.’

  Edela stepped away from the stall gate as he led Sky in. He closed the gate behind them and started removing her saddle and bridle, not glancin
g up.

  ‘I understand, and we don’t need to discuss that again,’ Edela said, her body shaking; she had been waiting in the stables for some time. ‘I am just glad to see you, to see that you haven’t left yet.’

  ‘But I want to,’ he said coldly, coming towards her now. ‘I can’t help you anymore. I know Aedan or Aron would be happy to take you back to Andala, even Kormac would.’

  ‘Yes, of course, I understand,’ Edela said. ‘And you should go, whenever you wish. I will be fine here. Alaric has decided to step in as my assistant, it seems.’ She tried to smile, but it was forced. She wanted to cry because Alaric was not Aleksander, and she had come to rely on Aleksander’s strength and friendship.

  He hung Sky’s bridle over a peg and grabbed a towel. ‘Well, I hope Alaric knows what he’s getting himself into,’ he muttered as he rubbed the towel briskly over Sky’s back. ‘He doesn’t look the most adventurous man to me.’

  Edela smiled. ‘No, but he does know a few people who can help. And there’s always Marcus.’

  Aleksander stared at her sharply. ‘I thought you were supposed to stay away from him?’

  ‘Well, he ordered me to the temple the other day,’ she said quietly. ‘I had no choice but to go.’

  ‘Oh.’ He looked worried as he continued rubbing. He wanted to know more, but he just nodded his head. ‘Well, I’m sure you know how to look after yourself after all these years.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll be alright, of course,’ she shivered. ‘Perhaps I will see you back in Andala in the spring then?’

  Aleksander hung up the damp towel and came to stand behind the gate. ‘Perhaps.’ His eyes were dark holes in the dim light of the stables; they gave no clue as to his true feelings, which was exactly what he wanted.