Eye of the Wolf: An Epic Fantasy Adventure (The Lords of Alekka Book 1)

by A. E. Rayne

  When she returned inside, Mother was still staring at her.

  ‘You felt the wolf? You heard her?’

  Falla nodded.

  ‘Saw her?’

  Falla shook her head.

  ‘But she was here, was she not?’

  Falla was confused, grasping for the right thing to say. And then her head cleared. ‘Yes, I felt her. She was here.’

  Mother smiled, her face finally relaxing. She glanced down at the wolf hood. ‘Yes, she was here. And she was there. And though I did not finish,’ she glowered at her daughter-in-law, ‘they will never sleep easily again!’

  Sigurd pushed open the door, stumbling inside the cottage.

  Alys, who was kneeling before the fire, jumped to her feet, helping him to a stool. ‘Are you alright? You shouldn’t be walking about yet.’

  Sigurd didn’t disagree with that statement. ‘I’m fine,’ he lied, dropping the broom to the floor, face contorted in pain. ‘I had to see what was happening, though it appears to have stopped now, whatever it was.’ He frowned, eyes on the cat. ‘That was Salma’s cat.’ He didn’t like dreamers, and he had no affection for cats either.

  Alys glanced at the cat, who had crept towards the fire, sitting before it, purring, enjoying the warmth and the light. She didn’t know what to say. And glancing around the cottage, seeing the book on the ground, she didn’t know what to do either. ‘The cat led me to that book,’ she whispered.

  Sigurd’s frown deepened, his stomach growling. ‘Well, that would be interesting if it were true.’

  ‘You don’t believe me?’ Alys shook, turning towards the flames, hands out, eyes moving straight back to the book.

  ‘That a cat led you to a book? And a wolf howled in the night like Ulura herself?’ Sigurd shrugged. ‘I don’t believe those things are possible, no. I don’t believe in gods and dreamers and magical cats.’

  ‘Why not?’ Alys picked up the book, sitting on the stool, turning the pages. ‘Why don’t you believe in anything?’

  ‘Oh, I believe in many things. I believe the sun rises in the east, it sets in the west, and then night comes. I believe in summer, winter, spring and autumn. I believe in what I see with my own eyes, not in dreams or visions or whatever dreamers want to have us believe. And I don’t believe in stories.’

  Sigurd looked grumpy, angry even, and Alys forgot the book and the cat and the wet dress clinging to her frozen body. ‘What happened to you?’ She wanted to touch him, as though that would help her to see. Sometimes it did. Sometimes when she brushed past a person or held their hand, she saw flashes of their life, past and present. But Sigurd Vilander was like a dark mountain she couldn’t see inside at all.

  ‘Happened to me?’ Sigurd snorted. ‘I formed my own opinions, made up my own mind.’ He rubbed his hands together, eager for the flames, trying to ignore the cat. He looked at Alys instead. ‘My brother wants you to solve his problems. Help him to make up his mind.’

  Alys froze, pieces of her dream returning. She glanced at the bed where Elin Vilander’s bracelet lay beneath her pillow. ‘He seeks answers.’

  ‘He seeks comfort,’ Sigurd almost snarled. ‘He wants to believe in something. Whether it’s the truth or not won’t matter. He just wants comfort. Assurance. Isn’t that what everyone wants from a dreamer?’

  Alys didn’t know. ‘But not you?’

  ‘I seek nothing. I see life in front of me. I don’t wish to uncover my destiny. I don’t believe anything other than this exists. This moment. Now.’ Sigurd was almost warm, and the rest on Alys’ stool had stopped his leg throbbing.

  He wriggled, wanting to leave.

  ‘So you will ignore the wolf? Pretend it didn’t happen? Go back to the hall and your bed and your woman and close your eyes?’ Alys felt irritated now, amazed by his stubbornness. ‘Not help your brother?’

  Sigurd sat up straighter, feeling the pressure she was applying to that old wound. ‘My brother? I’ve done nothing but help my brother. I’ve stayed here for my brother when I should have left. There’s nothing for me here now. Nothing for any of us. But Reinar won’t see it, so I stay here for him. Until he’s ready to go.’

  ‘But what if he wants to stay? If he believes it’s his destiny to stay here?’ Alys didn’t know what she was saying, or why she cared. She felt the book on her knee, the cat by her side, the warmth of the fire, and Sigurd’s intense blue eyes considering her question. It was hard to look away.

  ‘Destiny is a story, whatever you choose to believe. Reinar’s believed the same story his whole life, and that story was told to our mother by a dreamer, and likely it was just a lie. But Reinar...’ Sigurd shook his head, trying to stand. ‘I wanted to see if you were alright, but I should be going. Gerda will want to know what’s happening. Agnette too.’

  Alys nodded, hopping up, grabbing the book before it dropped to the floor. She reached for the broom, helping Sigurd to slip it under his arm. ‘I will check your wounds tomorrow,’ she said as he grunted, turning for the door.

  He stopped, looking back at her. ‘An old dreamer lived here. I don’t know why she came. And that was her cat. Whatever they wanted with Ottby and Reinar...’ Sigurd glanced at the cat, who appeared to be watching him intently. ‘Perhaps they aren’t done yet?’ And swaying slightly, he bent his head, wobbling outside.

  Alys watched him disappear, merging into the windswept shadows that rushed past her door.

  They gathered around the fire, confused.

  Behind them the hall was packed to the gunwales with wide-awake men and women, all of them wanting to know what had just happened. Gerda had ordered ale and food brought to the tables, though she did it with some hesitation. Trying to appease the twitchy villagers while endeavouring to make their stores last was like balancing on a rolling barrel, and she found herself in a permanent state of unease.

  ‘It was Ulura!’ Balder, the tanner, called. He stood by the doors, though with one of the loudest voices in the fort, he was easily heard. ‘It must be! It must! She came with a warning. We all heard her!’

  Nods and cups banging on tables, mud-thick boots shuffling across floorboards.

  Reinar was growing anxious, wondering where Sigurd was. He’d sent Ludo to look for him, though there was no sign of either of them now. Tulia didn’t appear worried as she stood. ‘Who is this Ulura? A myth? A story? You truly think we saw a magical creature?’ She laughed, and it sounded harsh and mocking.

  It always surprised Reinar that his brother had found someone just as cold as Gerda. Someone unable to show any emotion but anger and disappointment.

  Bjarni shoved Reinar’s leg with his knee, unable to release his hands which were being gripped by a quivering Agnette.

  ‘We saw something, Tulia!’ Balder called back. ‘And so did you! I see the colour of your face. Like snow, it is! As pale as mine!’

  Laughter then as Balder Forness had skin as pale as an ice-lake during the Freeze.

  ‘I heard wolves!’ Tulia called over the noise. ‘And so did you! Not one but many! A pack! It was a pack of hungry wolves!’

  Reinar ran a hand over his beard, fur cloak warm around his shoulders now, brought out by his mother. He was grateful for her fussing for he was frozen solid.

  The hall doors swung open and in came Ludo, a muddy-looking Sigurd slumped against him.

  Reinar looked relieved.

  Tulia glared at Sigurd, wondering where he’d gone, confused by the look in his eyes.

  ‘Tulia’s right! It was a pack of wolves! You could hear them all around us!’ Reinar’s shoulders relaxed now, his familiar easy-going grin firmly back in place, despite the hour and the terror he could see on his people’s faces; the fear bubbling inside his own chest. ‘You think that noise came from one wolf? From Ulura herself?’ He snorted, heading back to his chair, wanting to shrug it off.

  Needing them to see him shrug it off.

  There was a lot of mumbling and murmuring. More boot shuffling.

  ‘Drink up!’ G
erda called, on her feet, finger pointing a servant back to the kitchen for more cups. ‘After that storm, you’re all going to need something to relax you again!’ Her body shivered uncontrollably, her own smile faltering.

  Ludo brought Sigurd through the crowd as they started arguing amongst themselves about who had heard what. He saw Reinar heading to the high table, wanting to get away from the conversations.

  He knew what they’d be talking about.

  Another omen.

  Another threat.

  Another sign that the gods had cast him out; fingered him as one bound for Vasa’s dark cave.

  Sigurd dropped down onto a bench, wet through, eyes on Reinar. ‘A pack of wolves?’

  There was no hint of a smile in his brother’s eyes, but his mouth still curled at the edges, lifting his golden beard. ‘A big pack, I’d say. We’ll need to decide what to do about it tomorrow.’

  Torvig came to join them, eyes on the crowd. ‘You’ll have hard work convincing them of that.’ He grabbed a cup of ale from the table, shuddering. ‘Fuck it’s cold.’ The wind still howled, the rain still fell, though the eye of the storm had thankfully passed.

  And now they were left in the maw of a mythical beast.

  At its mercy.

  Tulia brought her brother to join them, both of them puzzled.

  ‘Perhaps the noises were confusing?’ Amir suggested. He was as tall as his older sister; the same deep-brown skin; the same almond-shaped eyes. ‘The drumming... it could have been thunder and wind. Rattling doors. Palings.’ He was reaching, but a few of them nodded.

  Agnette wouldn’t leave Bjarni’s side. ‘We all know what that was. All of us.’ She eyed Tulia and Amir. ‘Even if we don’t know the legend and believe in the gods, not one of us here thinks anything else happened but that Ulura came to warn us!’

  Reinar wanted to slam his hand over his cousin’s big mouth. He glared at Bjarni, who looked as though he felt tempted, but seeing the panic in his wife’s tired eyes, he took a breath.

  ‘It doesn’t matter what we might think,’ Bjarni grumbled, eyeing Agnette. ‘It only matters what they think.’ He inclined his head towards the front of the hall where groups of warriors were gathering with their worried-looking wives. ‘We can’t afford to lose any more of them.’

  ‘But we will,’ Sigurd warned, taking the cup Tulia handed him, sensing her tension. ‘You know it, Reinar. We will.’

  ‘Maybe you should talk to Alys?’ Ludo suggested quietly. ‘She might know what it was.’

  Sigurd looked away, watching Gerda, who couldn’t stand still. He could see the fear in her eyes; the realisation that they would not be able to hang on much longer. Not if more men left. ‘I don’t see what she’ll be able to tell you,’ he grumbled. ‘Any dreamer will only tell you what you want to hear. Look at Salma. She should have told you the truth about what was coming.’

  Reinar’s head snapped around. ‘What truth? Your truth, Sigurd? Is that the truth you want me to hear? That this is all a waste of time?’ His voice hissed through grating teeth, barely discernible over the thrum of the hall. ‘We all know what you think, Brother, but this is our home. You want us to run? To hide? Be chased away by Hakon Vettel and his useless cousin? You want two vengeful boys to take Ottby away from us? To take Stornas?’

  The argument was old, and Sigurd didn’t want to have it again.

  And by the looks on everyone’s faces, no one wanted to hear it again either.

  ‘Go see Alys,’ Agnette urged, finally unsticking herself from Bjarni, moving towards Reinar. ‘She’ll help, I know it.’

  ‘Alright.’ Reinar smiled at Agnette, hand on her shoulder rather than over her mouth. ‘Alright. Why don’t you finish up here, then head for bed? I’ll speak with Alys. I doubt anyone will be sleeping tonight.’

  There was nothing to feed the cat.

  Alys had not had a cat since she was a girl, and she was struggling to remember what cats liked to eat, besides mice. Though, did they really eat mice, she wondered, her tired mind wandering. Or was it just the game they enjoyed?

  Blinking, she tried to concentrate, lifting her hand from the book, feeling a heat beneath her palm.

  The writing was fresh, splotches of ink littering the vellum, as though the writer was in a hurry. As though she had woken from a dream, desperate to get her thoughts down before they slipped away.

  Alys blinked, surprised by the thoughts that flooded her own mind.

  It was as though a door had been opened, light shining in, and suddenly she could see so clearly.

  Running her finger down the page, she started reading. It took some time. The owner of the book had taken little care over forming her letters. But it was Alekkan, and she could understand it, almost perfectly.

  It was a spell.

  A nightmare spell.

  Alys froze, staring into the flames, seeing how it had all played out. Wondering who had done it, and why?

  The knock on the door had her almost tipping off the stool, book in hand.

  ‘Alys?’

  Alys left the book on the stool, and, with some hesitation, opened the door. Reinar rushed in, shaking rain from his cloak, eyeing her closely. ‘You weren’t sleeping?’

  ‘No.’

  He stepped towards the fire, surprised to see the cat, who knew Reinar well, and as he sat down on a stool, the cat curled around his legs, purring. ‘You’ve found Winter, then?’ he grinned, wet hand smoothing down that sleek white fur. ‘Salma was very fond of her cat. He went everywhere with her. He slept on her bed while she was dying, but he disappeared after her pyre. I didn’t think we’d see him again.’

  Alys took a stool beside him. ‘Winter? I think he might want to stay.’

  ‘And you?’ Reinar turned to Alys. ‘Do you want to stay? Here, in Ottby? Not be sold as a slave?’

  Alys was unsettled by the question. Surprised too. She had thought it was decided. ‘I... don’t want to be sold as a slave. No. Nor do I wish my friends to be sold either.’

  Reinar smiled. ‘But you don’t want to stay here? I must force you?’

  ‘Well, I don’t expect you’ll have to try very hard. There’s nowhere for me to go. Not on my own.’ She blinked, seeing Elin Vilander’s face in her mind.

  ‘What?’

  Alys shook her head, dismissing his question. ‘You came to talk about the wolf?’

  Reinar moved closer. ‘Yes, but you saw something about my wife, didn’t you? Did you have a dream?’

  Alys squirmed, realising that she was going to make a terrible dreamer if she couldn’t mask her thoughts and feelings, even when there was barely any light to see by. ‘I did, though I woke before I found out much. The drumming... it woke me.’

  For a moment, Reinar didn’t care about wolves or drums or that most of his men were about to run for the hills. He gripped Alys’ hand. ‘What did you see? Tell me.’

  Alys glanced down at his hand, gulping. ‘I saw her talking to someone.’

  ‘Who?’ Reinar’s tone sharpened.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Alys lied, not wanting to get Agnette in trouble. ‘It was your wife, Elin, who was speaking mostly. She talked about wanting to go away.’ Alys felt Reinar release her hand, drawing it back to his leg. ‘She worried about your... bad luck, that it would end up... killing her.’

  Reinar’s shoulders curled forward, his mouth hanging open. The pain in his eyes mirrored the pain in his heart. ‘She wanted to leave?’ His voice was hesitant.

  Halting.

  He looked up at Alys. ‘She wanted to leave me?’

  Alys nodded. ‘She wanted help, someone to help her find a way to escape.’

  ‘Escape me?’ Reinar felt numb, visions of his wife kissing his hand, holding it to her heart. Keeping it there, wanting him to feel how it beat for him. How full of love it was. How desperate with need.

  She was fearless, bold, eager to be a warrior like Tulia.

  She thought she would look good in trousers.

  Makin
g him laugh, forget all his worries.

  Making him moan...

  Reinar blinked.

  How long ago had that been?

  He shivered, standing. ‘I... ‘ He couldn’t go on. ‘Come in the morning, to the hall. We can...’ He scratched his head, blinking away the tears which burned his eyes, hiding them from the dreamer. Though could you ever truly hide from a dreamer? ‘We need to talk about what happened. About the wolf.’ Reinar didn’t turn around as he opened the door.

  Alys nodded, confused by her feelings. She felt guilt and pity, yet this man had stolen her away from her children. Her home.

  Reinar hurried through the door, quickly closing it behind himself.

  The cat looked after him, before turning back to Alys, head cocked to one side, lifting a white paw to his mouth.

  14

  No one slept much and those who had woke early, ate quickly and left the hall to take the mood of the fort.

  It did not take long.

  The mood was darker than a moonless night.

  In winter.

  In The Murk.

  No one had a look on their face resembling hope. No one appeared ready to fight for Reinar and Ottby. Everyone looked far more inclined to pack their chests and leave.

  Except for Ludo Moller. He grinned at Sigurd, who was limping beside him. ‘I wish we’d seen something. I thought I had, but Bjarni kept getting in the way. He’s like a bear in that cloak. I couldn’t get past him!’

  Sigurd was determined to get walking, wanting to ignore the pain in his leg. There was too much to do. Reinar hadn’t even emerged from his chamber, yet this was the time to be out in the square, getting everyone riled up for what was coming next. Whether it was Vasa’s wolf or Hakon Vettel’s army didn’t matter. If Reinar was determined to cling to this old fort, they needed to be ready to fight. ‘Agnette’s trying to make him as fat as she is,’ Sigurd laughed, watching his cousin waddle after Bjarni, who was hurrying after Torvig.

  ‘I think she’s succeeded!’ Ludo felt ill, but someone had to put on a smile. Thoughts of the wolf had terrorised him all night. He’d slept occasionally, but mostly he’d just lain there, listening, waiting to hear another howl.