Winter's Fury

by A. E. Rayne

  Somehow, despite all his evil, he’d believed his father had been capable of feeling love, and he’d been proven wrong. Could he, would he, take the same risk again?

  ‘Are you worried?’ Eadmund asked, looking worried.

  ‘About what?’ Jael mumbled sleepily.

  ‘Tomorrow, of course!’ he laughed.

  ‘If you don’t stop talking and go to sleep, it will never be tomorrow,’ she grumbled. ‘And yes, I will be worried if I have to fight after a sleepless night with you blubbering in my ear until dawn!’

  ‘So, you tend to get quite angry when you’re worried, then?’

  ‘Eadmund!’ she punched him in the arm and rolled over, pushing Ido, who had just found a good spot, away with her legs. ‘Go to sleep, or you can go out and lie with Biddy.’

  ‘Well, perhaps Biddy would be a more agreeable bed companion than you,’ he muttered to himself as he rolled over, appreciating the unbelievable comfort of the bed again. Lying on his side had never even been possible in his old bed, but this... this was worth all the grumbles in the world.

  ‘I’m sure she would,’ Jael said softly. ‘And no, I’m not worried, not about me. I just hope Thorgils will be alright. Isaura thinks Tarak will try to destroy him.’

  Eadmund frowned. ‘I think Tarak is going to try to destroy everyone, and if he gets through Thorgils, that might mean you.’

  ‘Mmmm, well I have an idea of how that might go, but I’ve faced worse than Tarak. If it comes to that, don’t worry about me.’

  ‘Perhaps I need to give you your gift in the morning then, just in case I don’t see you again?’

  ‘Ha! Perhaps... now go to sleep!’ she growled, pulling the furs over her head.

  Eadmund smiled to himself but it faded quickly. This feeling, this new sense of being alive, it was like catching the sun inside his chest. It was a warm glow of unexpected happiness, and the fear of losing it too quickly made his throat tight. She could fight, he had no doubt about that, but so could Thorgils, and Tarak had crushed him over and over again. He closed his eyes and hoped that this time Thorgils would get lucky, that he would finally have his victory over Tarak so that Jael would never have to face him.

  55

  ‘So, who will your coin be on today?’ Ivaar smiled cheerfully at his father as he joined him by the fire.

  ‘Is the weather fair?’ Eirik croaked. He’d drunk more than he’d realised last night and his head and throat were thick because of it.

  ‘Fair enough, I would say. A few clouds, but nothing that threatens too much. They’re already out clearing the Pit. I think we should be able to get in a full day.’

  ‘That’s good to hear. Thank you,’ Eirik nodded to the servant who had brought him a cup of ale.

  ‘I can’t wait,’ Ivaar said, rubbing his hands together.

  Eirik glanced at his son’s happy face. ‘I imagine you’re hoping that Tarak will cause some damage?’

  ‘Well, not hoping,’ Ivaar frowned. ‘He will. We both know that, surely? I don’t see anyone who could stop him. I’ve been watching them all train, and no one has impressed me yet, besides Tarak.’

  ‘What about Thorgils?’ Eirik moved over to his chair, sitting down with a groan. ‘What about Jael? You don’t think they can offer him a fight?’

  Ivaar squeezed his shoulder blades together, uncomfortable at the mention of those names. ‘That I couldn’t say. I’ve never seen Jael fight. Thorgils, I doubt it, but Jael? If I were to put her and Tarak next to each other, I would say that the tale of that defeat is already being sung.’

  ‘You don’t think a small man can beat a big man? You’ve never seen that?’

  ‘Of course, but a big man and a woman? That I haven’t seen.’ Ivaar shook his head and came to stand in front of his father. ‘So, my coin is on Tarak. I have complete faith that he will become your champion once more.’

  ‘Mmmm, and then one day, yours, I suppose?’ Eirik said, leaning forward, studying his son’s face, trying to see beyond what Ivaar wanted to show. ‘You and Tarak will rule Oss. Is that how it will be?’

  Ivaar squirmed ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing. ‘Every king needs a champion, Father.’

  ‘Of course, and Tarak has been a very loyal and effective one for me, but what if Jael were to win, or Thorgils?’ Eirik suggested. ‘Would you keep them as your champion? Have them beside you when this is your hall?’

  Ivaar’s smile had gone now. His father was testing him, and it made him irritable. ‘It is hard to say. That might not be for many years yet, and who knows what the future holds for any of us.’

  ‘How true that is,’ Eirik muttered. ‘As for me, I shall be placing my coin on Jael.’ He stared at Ivaar, challenging his son. ‘It’s time Oss had a new champion.’

  Jael looked around the room again, wiggling her toes impatiently at the end of the bed. She had been awake for awhile, and although she didn’t feel the urge to run away from Eadmund, she was desperate to feel the wind on her face, and Tig beneath her; to blow away all the tension that was festering in her head and her limbs. There was time for a ride before the contest started, she was certain of it.

  With one quick look at Eadmund, she slipped out from under the furs, shivering her way to her clothes as silently as possible. She headed for the door, without looking back.

  ‘You’re not leaving?’ Biddy whispered sternly.

  Jael walked quickly towards her pile of armour and weapons, nodding.

  ‘Not without something to eat, you’re not,’ Biddy grumbled and ladled out a big lump of porridge into a bowl.

  Jael cringed; her stomach was in knots. She might not have felt overly worried, but she had no appetite at all. She shook her head, but Biddy walked up to her, pushing the bowl into her chest.

  ‘Eat, or I’ll wake him up,’ she hissed, nodding towards the bedchamber.

  Jael frowned but saw she had no choice. She tried not to inhale the porridge, spooning as much as she could stand into her mouth, before gagging and handing it back. ‘I have to go. I’m going to see Fyn before it starts,’ she said, whispering in Biddy’s ear. ‘I thought he might like to help me get ready.’

  Biddy looked into Jael’s eyes, worried. She grabbed hold of her arm. ‘You be careful today. Don’t do anything silly. Look after yourself.’

  Jael looked away; she had to go. She nodded and scooped up her pile of armour as quietly as possible, smiling at the gift which was still gathering dust by the door. If she got through the day in one piece, perhaps Eadmund would have a reason to give it to her tomorrow.

  Eadmund rolled over, his eyes still closed. He smiled. He felt almost warm and so completely comfortable. He felt the licking on his cheek, and his eyes flew open. It was Vella, with her familiar morning greeting. He frowned angrily, looking past the furry face to the empty pillow beside him.

  Biddy hurried through her tidying, trying not to let her worry consume her morning. She still had a lot of washing and burning to sort out for Eadmund, which she was glad of; grateful for anything that would take her mind off Jael.

  ‘That woman!’ came the furious bellow from the bedchamber.

  Biddy almost dropped the cup she was carrying to the kitchen. She couldn’t help the laugh that relaxed her anxious face.

  ‘Jael!’ Fyn came rushing out of his hut ‘What are you doing here? What about the contest?’ He grabbed Tig’s bridle as Jael dismounted.

  ‘Well, nothing’s happened to the contest, I just thought I would have a ride first. Clear my mind before it starts,’ she smiled and began to unpack Tig’s saddle bags. She was already wearing her helmet, and took it off, tucking it under one arm. ‘I’ve brought all of my armour. I thought you could help get me ready. Good practice for when we go to Hest together.’

  Fyn frowned but put his arms out to take the heavy mail tunic she handed to him. In truth, it wasn’t that heavy. Arnna had worked with the Master Blacksmith of Andala to have it specially made for Jael. It was light enough for her to move easily but d
ense enough to prevent any weapon from getting through; well, so far, at least.

  ‘Do you want to put it on now?’ Fyn wondered nervously. He wasn’t sure who he was nervous for, but he had hardly been able to sleep, thinking about Eydis’ dream.

  ‘Now? No,’ she laughed, walking Tig over to his shelter. ‘There’s plenty of time, and I could use a hot drink after that ride.’ She slipped Tig a stale flatbread and walked towards the door in the hill without waiting for Fyn, who appeared to be in a complete muddle. ‘Well, come on!’ she called to him.

  Jael was already sitting in front of the fire when Fyn came through the door.

  ‘I have some dandelions?’ he muttered sheepishly. ‘That’s all I have.’

  ‘Sounds fine,’ Jael nodded, her eyes darting around the hut. The ride had done little to ease her tension.

  ‘The weather is good,’ Fyn said as he prepared the cups.

  ‘Seems to be,’ Jael said distractedly. ‘It’s a pity you can’t come and watch. It would feel good to witness Tarak’s humiliation, don’t you think?’

  Fyn cringed, his shoulders hunching about his ears, his eyes dark with discomfort. ‘I’m not as confident as you about that, so no, I wouldn’t want to watch him hurt you or Thorgils.’

  ‘Truly?’ Jael looked shocked. ‘You don’t think we have any chance?’

  Fyn froze as he reached for the cauldron. He couldn’t meet her eye.

  ‘Fyn –’ she started.

  ‘You heard what Eydis said. What happened in her dream.’ He looked at her imploringly. ‘Why don’t you believe her? She’s a dreamer!’

  ‘She’s a child dreamer,’ Jael said firmly. ‘She’s wrong. I’m not going to let him kill me.’

  Fyn poured hot water over his dandelion crumbles. ‘Well, I’ve seen what he does to people. It’s worse than a fight. It’s humiliation.’

  ‘But I know what he did to you, and I’m going to defeat him, if Thorgils doesn’t. I promise you that, Fyn,’ she insisted. ‘And when I’m done, you’re going to come back to Oss and Tarak is going to be the one who is banished.’

  ‘No!’ Fyn yelled, hanging the cauldron back over the fire. ‘No, Jael! No!’ He was shaking, his eyes full of fear. ‘I’ve told you before that it won’t happen. Eirik won’t banish Tarak, and he won’t let me return. So please, leave it alone! It won’t happen. He will never lose! He will always win! Just leave it alone, Jael. You don’t understand! You will never understand!’

  Jael shook as she sat there, hearing the pain in his voice, feeling the spit from his mouth as it flew through the air; seeing the terror in his eyes. And she remembered. She bit her lip, wishing it away, but it kept coming with such force that she knew she couldn’t ignore it.

  ‘When I was nine...’ she said quietly, her voice suddenly so far away, it sounded lost in a storm. She cleared her throat and began again. ‘When I was nine, my mother took me to Tuura...’

  ‘What’s happened to your wife?’ Thorgils wondered with a tight grin. He was not usually troubled by nerves, but he’d woken up with a dry throat, and a griping belly and both were getting worse. ‘Has she run off already?’

  ‘Well, yes, of course,’ Eadmund laughed. ‘She always does. Every morning, without fail.’

  Thorgils raised an eyebrow but didn’t pursue it any further; Eadmund seemed happy enough. ‘Well, hopefully she’ll be back in time for the start.’

  ‘She will be. She’s just gone for a ride.’

  ‘Oh?’ Thorgils wondered if she’d gone to see Fyn. He stared up at the pale blue, early morning sky. ‘Nice day for it, then?’

  ‘To smash Tarak’s face into the dirt?’ Eadmund wondered quietly, glancing around. ‘A perfect day for that. Whoever does it, I shall enjoy watching.’

  ‘I still remember when you did it all those years ago’, Thorgils said wistfully as they walked towards the hall. ‘If only it had been a fight to the death, we wouldn’t have had to suffer through eight more years of him.’

  ‘Well, save a few pieces of him for me,’ Eadmund muttered. ‘I would like to have a go at that bastard when I get back to myself again.’

  Thorgils smiled confidently, but his insides felt like slush. ‘Ahhh, here’s the man who stands between Jael and the final battle,’ he laughed as Torstan approached, his face looking much like Thorgils’ insides.

  ‘Well, I hope not,’ Torstan squirmed uncomfortably. ‘Hopefully, someone will stop her before she gets to me.’

  ‘For your sake, I hope so,’ Eadmund smiled.

  They entered the hall, which was heaving with contestants and their families. Axes and swords were being hastily sharpened by edgy-looking warriors, hiding their tension behind insults and puffed-up chests. The fires were high, and the servants were bustling about with trays overflowing with ale, cold meat, and cheese.

  Thorgils took one look at the drink and food on offer and felt ready to vomit. Torstan, however, reached for the first cup to come his way, and after that quickly took another.

  ‘Is that the best idea?’ Eadmund wondered doubtfully, his own nerves starting to jangle as he looked around the hall. These men were hard. He had fought against and alongside most of them. They were going to rip Jael to pieces, weren’t they?

  ‘That’s coming from you, is it?’ Torstan said smartly and wandered off in search of food.

  Ivaar came striding towards them. Thorgils cringed and farted; this was the last thing he needed.

  ‘Wishing you were joining your friends today?’ Ivaar asked coldly, his eyes resting on his brother’s face.

  ‘Me?’ Eadmund had no intention of letting Ivaar have any fun at their expense, Thorgils didn’t need it. ‘No, not in the slightest. I get a nice, warm seat and a good view of everything, maybe a drink of ale. Sounds much better than rolling about on my face, with someone’s arse on top of me.’

  Ivaar desperately wanted to reach out and grab his brother by the throat. He looked too well, too healthy, too happy; it made him sick. ‘And what about your wife? Has she changed her mind about the contest? Decided she’d rather stay home and cook something for you?’ he smiled, watching Eadmund’s eyes twitch in irritation.

  Eadmund laughed and nudged Thorgils, who stood in great discomfort next to him. Thorgils grimaced, caught between wanting to make sure Eadmund didn’t get into any trouble, and his urgent need to go outside and shit.

  ‘Well, perhaps after she defeats Tarak, you’d like to come to our house for a meal?’ Eadmund smiled.

  ‘What a kind offer,’ Ivaar said, his lips set in a thin line. ‘I suppose you must enjoy this time with her before she goes back to Brekka. Back to Aleksander.’

  Thorgils froze. Here was the twist in the tail that Ivaar always managed to deliver.

  ‘Oh, you didn’t know about Aleksander? About how she wants to go back to Brekka, to be with him again?’ Ivaar could barely contain himself. ‘Well, I suppose she didn’t want to break your fragile, little heart. We’ve all seen what happens to you when you get that feeble heart of yours broken.’ And with one final, triumphant look, he turned and strode away, happier than he could remember feeling in some time.

  Eadmund didn’t know what to think. He completely ignored the servant who stood, holding out a cup of ale and turned to Thorgils, who suddenly gripped his belly.

  ‘I need to find the shitter,’ he tried.

  Eadmund reached out and snatched at his arm. ‘What is he talking about? Who is Aleksander?’

  Jael had only just begun, but she didn’t know if she could continue. She took a deep breath. ‘My aunt was getting married...’ she said quietly. ‘I was so excited to go... I couldn’t wait to see my cousins. My father stayed behind. I don’t know why,’ she frowned, listening to the crack of the fire as it spat angrily at them. She glanced down at her hands, rubbed them together, then looked up again. ‘We had been there a few nights, all together in a large cottage, all of us children sleeping in the same bed, whispering all night. My brother was a nuisance, though. He was only two, an
d he would never sit still. That night he was making such a fuss, so my mother took him for a walk, trying to calm him down. I ran after them.’

  Fyn sat on a stool, his eyes on Jael’s face. She had drifted far away; her body almost rigid as she sat, lost in the flames.

  ‘There were a lot of men suddenly. On horses. Carrying torches. Flames everywhere. The sound of swords and screams. My mother screamed. One of my father’s men was there. He pushed us into a cottage, told my mother to bar the door. He stayed outside. She hid us under the bed, but we heard it, the sound of the sword as it killed him. It was wet... stabbing, and then the door was kicked in. Four men.’ She stumbled then, the images were vivid now. ‘Four men burst in, some covered in blood. All had swords. They took my mother, ripping her dress off. She screamed so loudly. I had my hand over Axl’s mouth, but I wanted to rush out and stop them, stop what they were doing to her. They shoved her dress up, forced themselves on her. Laughing. They all took turns raping her. And all I could do was watch. Silently. Not even moving, just watching. I couldn’t close my eyes. I thought they would kill her...’ She looked up into Fyn’s eyes, and he saw the tears in hers. ‘And then my brother banged his head on the bed. He wouldn’t lie still. I’d tried to hold him down, but he kept wriggling. He was so upset. And they found us.’ She started shuddering. ‘They found me...’ And she was there again, in that place, remembering the smell of them, and the pain of it, and her mother’s screams disappearing into the night. Where had she gone? Why didn’t she stop them? Why didn’t she make it stop?

  ‘My mother had run out. It seemed like forever that she was gone. She came back with Gant, and he sliced all four of them to pieces, right there in front of me. He took all their heads off, one by one. So quickly. There was nothing but blood, everywhere,’ she sighed. ‘And they were dead, but so was part of me. They took a part of me with them. And I can never get it back.’

  Jael reached out and grabbed Fyn’s hand, her eyes focusing again. ‘But my revenge was taken. They did not survive what they did to me, what they did to my mother. And if I had been there when Tarak raped you, I would have taken his head for you, Fyn. Because you are wrong... I do know,’ she cried. ‘I do know...’