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

by A. E. Rayne

  And then Alys was there, walking towards them, and he smiled again, watching the white cat bounding after her. ‘Isn’t that...?’ he said to Sigurd, who sighed in annoyance, limping away from the dreamer and her new cat.

  Ludo followed after him, lifting one hand to Alys in greeting.

  Alys stopped, her attention snapping to Agnette.

  And Agnette stopped, turning around, feeling it. ‘Do you need something? Is it the cottage? I’m sure it still stinks. Perhaps I can find a few bags of rosemary to hang around the walls?’ She left Bjarni to Torvig and walked towards Alys, lifting her hem out of the thick mud. ‘Though, after last night, I’m not sure I can put my mind to anything but sitting in a corner and shaking.’ She smiled, though her lips quivered as she waited for Alys to speak.

  ‘Reinar wants to see me. To talk about the wolf, I expect. But also about his wife and what I saw in my dream. About you.’

  Agnette lifted her head, swallowing some more. ‘Me?’ She glanced around the square, wanting to see if anyone was listening, though with the return of their warriors, it suddenly felt louder. More men roamed the ramparts, calling out to each other. There was a heightened sense of urgency, knowing that winter was coming. Hakon Vettel too. And they were rushing to be ready before both descended upon the fort in an almighty storm of snow and swords.

  ‘I’d rather not tell him about you, but it will be hard to keep it all hidden. I’ve not seen everything, but I know his wife asked you to help her leave. To escape.’

  Agnette rushed a hand over Alys’ mouth, eyes popping open. ‘Ssshhh!’ she implored, trying to think. ‘I... no one knows about that. No one. I didn’t want to hurt Reinar. Never!’ She spoke in breathless whispers, feeling her chest tighten, wondering if she could trust the dreamer to keep her secret. ‘I couldn’t hurt him, but Elin was so unhappy, and Reinar was blind to it. He was so unhappy himself after the babies died, but he wouldn’t talk about it. Not to Elin, not even to Sigurd. I’m not sure he’s spoken a word about it to anyone. I think Elin felt so alone, and her mind... I worried that if I didn’t help her leave, that she’d... kill herself. She had become so strange. Her thoughts were turning dark. Disturbing.’ Realising that she still had her hand over Alys’ mouth, Agnette pulled it away, gasping at a stitch in her side. ‘Elin was my friend since we were girls. I was torn, but I didn’t want her to do anything she couldn’t undo. I thought if she ran away for a while, she’d change her mind. Come back. Be different somehow. Better.’

  Alys felt exhausted. She hadn’t been able to sleep at all, so she’d spent the rest of the night with her head buried in the book. And now she wanted to go and see Stina and the Ullaberg women, but instead, she had to trek to the hall in the bitter cold, in her bare feet, through the sloshing mud, littered with thatch and twigs.

  Agnette suddenly noticed. ‘You have no boots!’ She felt terrible, her mind a scattered mess. ‘Come on, come with me to the hall. I’ll find you a pair of mine. Come to think of it, you can probably wear Elin’s. She didn’t take anything with her. She didn’t want Reinar to suspect she’d run away.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Agnette hurried on, turning back to Alys with a sigh, blonde hair tumbling out of a yellow scarf. ‘I’ll tell him. I’ll find you a pair of boots, then I’ll tell him everything.’

  Hakon wanted to know everything, but Mother bunched her lips together with a determination not to reveal anything until they were alone.

  And sensing how desperately Hakon wanted to be alone with Mother, everyone quickly dispersed, leaving the two of them at the high table, Karolina playing with Anders in front of the fire.

  He turned to Mother, hands open, his lack of thumbs on full display. ‘So?’

  Mother leaned towards him. ‘What is it that you want, Hakon Vettel?’ They sat at the high table together. There were many seats between them, though neither made a move towards the other.

  Hakon was surprised by how surly she was, seemingly unwilling to reveal how it had all gone. It worried him. ‘Did something go wrong?’

  Mother considered his question, spitting out a cherry pit. Blood-red juice dripped down her sagging chin, reminding her of the potion, and she shivered. ‘Nothing went wrong at all. I did what I intended. It was breathtaking!’ Her eyes lit up now, and she turned them on her lord.

  Hakon smiled, pleased to hear it. ‘So we will attack? Now?’

  Mother laughed. ‘You are such a hungry dog, aren’t you? You must have been an annoying child, always wanting to suckle!’ She cackled, her wild curls bouncing, jowls jiggling. ‘But a mother’s milk takes time to come in, just as my plan will. Wait. Just a while longer. You want that bridge? You want to roll right through Ottby, over those Vilanders, then be patient, Hakon. A siege will deplete your resources and your time. Word of that siege will be carried to Ake Bluefinn, and he will return from the West.’ Mother eased her way towards the frowning lord. ‘There are many ways to arrange the pieces of this puzzle. And you, of course, may choose your own path. But do not forget that we made an arrangement advantageous to both our needs. We are hungry for revenge. We want Ake gone. We want you on that throne. Stay with me, and I will get you there.’

  Hakon reached for his cup of buttermilk, thinking how right Mother was. He had been an impatient child, always burning his fingers or his tongue, trying food that was too hot, touching cauldrons and skillets in a rush to satisfy his hunger. ‘Well, perhaps you’re right. Or, if you’re not, perhaps I will wait anyway. As you say, Mother, revenge is important to both of us. And if the gods are on our side, if they favour us as I’ve always believed they do, then we’ll be in Stornas before my son is walking.’ His eyes drifted to Karolina, who held Anders up to his father, trying to please him.

  Hakon was pleased, seeing those sturdy little legs, and he looked at Mother, who nodded.

  ‘Yes,’ she said with a throaty growl. ‘I believe you will.’

  Agnette had given Alys a pair of her own boots, not wanting to take Elin’s. Not before she’d told Reinar everything. And not wanting to be around when Agnette told Reinar everything, Alys had slipped out of the hall.

  She grew more uncomfortable as she walked. People stared. Red-faced children poked out their tongues at her. Others smiled as they raced past. Women pulled their men away, some gossiping, many frowning.

  Alys didn’t know any of them.

  It was surreal. And oppressive.

  The fort was larger than she’d realised. Its inner wall was high, casting gloomy shadows over the muddy square. Alys felt imprisoned. Ullaberg had been small – more a gathering of cottages along the shore than a true village – and she’d enjoyed brief moments of peace as she walked that beach every morning.

  Arnon liked to sleep.

  Arnon had liked to sleep, she reminded herself as she passed the training ring, where a handful of warriors were practising with wooden swords. That reminded her of Arnon too. He had been an arrogant man, always fighting bare-chested, shunning the use of armour. Alys shivered, unable to stop seeing the image of her dead husband. Sigurd’s arrow had gone straight through the eye of the wolf tattooed over Arnon’s chest. That evil-looking creature had curled over his belly, up to his neck, down to his waist. She had stared at it for eleven torturous years, always wanting to look away. But she never could. Arnon hadn’t let her.

  But Sigurd’s arrow had killed him.

  Though now, there was another wolf. And what did that mean?

  ‘Are you stuck?’ came the abrasive voice of Tulia Saari as she left her brother in the mud, walking to the railings. ‘You seem to have been standing there for some time. Perhaps you are lost?’

  Alys was immediately intimidated, pulling one of Agnette’s boots out of the mud, horrified that they were already filthy. ‘No, well, yes. I wanted to see... the women.’

  Tulia turned Alys around. ‘The barn’s that way. I’ll walk you. I don’t imagine anyone minds that you’re walking about freely?’ She lifted her wooden sword in the air, call
ing over her shoulder to Amir. ‘I’ll come back later!’

  Alys didn’t know.

  ‘Well, I expect Reinar will come and find you soon. He likes having a dreamer. Perhaps that’s because he doesn’t know how to think for himself?’ Tulia felt cross, mad at Reinar Vilander, the most stubborn man she’d ever met, which was saying something, knowing Sigurd as she did.

  ‘Well, a dreamer’s insight is desired by many,’ Alys supposed quietly. ‘At least that’s what I’ve seen. I’ve never been a real dreamer before.’

  ‘Then why start now?’ Tulia wondered, trying not to stare at the woman. She was not young and silly like some. She seemed mature; the same age as her, perhaps? Pretty to look at, in a simple kind of way, though her hair needed a comb and she smelled a little ripe. ‘Why become a dreamer all of a sudden? Just to save your skin?’

  ‘Yes,’ Alys admitted freely. ‘I saw the ships coming. I knew they would attack us. I had to say something.’

  Tulia nodded at Torvig, who ignored her, eyeing Alys as he passed. ‘Arsehole,’ she muttered under her breath, still smiling. ‘So you spoke up at the right moment, saved Reinar and Sigurd, and now you’re a free prisoner. Not a slave, as such, but bound to Reinar as his dreamer. And where will that lead you when magical wolves are coming to kill us all?’ She laughed, rubbing her eye, trying not to yawn. It had been a disturbed night, but the day would run away from them before they got anything done.

  Alekka was like that, Tulia knew, the colder months bringing days so short that you barely had time to open your eyes and make a plan before you stopped being able to see. Her tired eyes sharpened suddenly, focused on a warrior she knew, who was lugging a chest onto a cart, his wife and children beside him.

  ‘The barn’s up there. You can see the guards. I have to find Reinar. Looks like the first of the departures, though they won’t be the last to run. It’s been that way for months now, but after last night...’ And with a final glance at the dreamer, Tulia spun around, heading for the hall.

  They had not made much progress.

  Was that true?

  It felt true to Magnus, who was hungry and cold and irritated with his sister, who, since revealing herself to be a dreamer, had become very bossy, always insisting that he was going the wrong way.

  ‘Lotta!’ Magnus twisted in his saddle, lips clamped together, eyebrows low over tired eyes. ‘I’m the leader!’

  ‘Why?’ Innocent-eyed Lotta wondered, pink lips pouting, pulling her pony to a stop.

  Magnus didn’t know what to say to that. ‘Because you need me to be,’ he decided, eventually. ‘And I can be a good leader, if you let me. And a good leader always needs a helpful dreamer.’ Lotta appeared to be listening more and pouting less, so he went on. ‘I want to take your advice, and I’ll listen to you, but I still have to make the decisions because I’m the leader. Mother wanted me to be. You know that.’

  Lotta sighed, shoulders heaving. She was hungry too.

  And Magnus was right.

  ‘I’m just worried,’ she whispered, spinning around, searching the muddy path they had trekked down. ‘We have to get to Grandfather’s cottage. I see bad things coming. I feel them.’ Lotta quickly grabbed hold of Clover’s reins as the pony started prancing forward, wanting to get on. She tugged her to a stop, turning around to stare at her brother, who quickly caught up with her.

  ‘It’s just hard. Mother’s instructions are not easy to understand sometimes.’

  Lotta frowned. ‘Well, if you let me look at them, I could help. I can read.’

  ‘Of course you can read, I know that.’ Magnus felt himself getting cross again. ‘And what do you mean, you see bad things?’

  Lotta closed her eyes, listening. ‘Someone is coming, Magnus,’ she hissed, opening them wide. ‘Someone is coming now! What should we do?’

  Magnus spun around, trying to hear what Lotta could.

  And then he did.

  Horses were thundering in the distance, riders coming down the path.

  ‘Quick!’ Magnus cried, nudging Daisy towards the trees. ‘Hurry!’

  After spending far too long trying to calm the women down, Alys pulled Stina away to a corner of the barn to talk privately.

  ‘Do you really believe it was Ulura?’ Stina wondered. She felt exhausted. The nattering, sniffling women of Ullaberg had kept her awake for most of the night. And, she had to admit, she had been sniffling and shaking as much as the rest of them. The sounds outside the barn had been terrifying, the drumming invasive. She could feel it throbbing inside her body, as though the threat was still present.

  Which it likely was.

  Alys stared at her. ‘No, I think it was something else.’ She looked away, not knowing how to say it. ‘I think it was magical.’

  ‘Of course it was.’

  Alys blinked.

  ‘I’ve seen magic,’ Stina told her in a hushed voice. ‘There was an old woman who lived in Ullaberg when I was a girl. What she did every season was magic, I’m sure. Blessing the land, encouraging the soil to be fertile. Sacrificing. Sprinkling it with blood, and who knows what else. I think everyone was too afraid to ask!’

  Alys had seen similar things herself. ‘Of course, but this was different. This was dark.’

  Stina nodded. ‘It felt dark.’

  Thoughts floated in and out of Alys’ mind, mostly about Magnus and Lotta, though thinking about them now wouldn’t help her get out of Ottby and back to them. Then one stuck. ‘If this Hakon Vettel has a dreamer, perhaps she’s working some sort of magic? Trying to get rid of Reinar that way?’

  Stina stared at her curiously, tucking her dark-brown hair behind her ears. ‘You seem to like this Reinar. Our captor.’ She frowned. ‘Our enemy.’

  Alys squirmed, edging away from Stina, shaking her head. ‘I must help him and be useful to him. If I’m not, he won’t release me. And I’m going to try and get him to release you too.’

  Stina pulled her closer, smiling sympathetically. ‘You’re a good person, Alys, a kind woman, always trying to help, but see the truth this time, please. The Lord of Ottby or the Lord of Slussfall... they’re only interested in gaining power and gold and killing each other to do so. You must see that? You’re a weapon Reinar wants to wield. And if not him, then someone else. He will not let you go. You can’t believe he will?’

  Alys was suddenly conscious of the smell of the barn, and the need for a drink. She wondered where Winter the cat was. Where Magnus and Lotta were on their journey. If they were well fed. Whether Agnette had told Reinar. And then she looked at Stina. ‘I believe I will be free, yes. I don’t know how. Not yet. But I feel that Reinar Vilander is a good man. His brother too. I just need to find a way to remind them of that.’

  Stina sighed, squeezing Alys’ hands, knowing there was no way through. Over the years she had tried to convince Alys that Arnon would never change. And now, here she was again, wanting to rescue someone new, make them into what she believed they were meant to be. ‘Well, I hope you’re right,’ she said at last. ‘I wouldn’t mind getting away from Ilene and her sniping!’ And winking at Alys, Stina pushed her towards the door. ‘And until then, maybe you could see about getting us more food? I think our appetites have finally returned. If they want to make use of us or sell us, they shouldn’t try to starve us!’

  Alys nodded, wishing she could take Stina with her, perhaps some of the others too. They were not bad women, she just didn’t know most of them well enough. They had always looked at her with pity, and now they eyed her with suspicion and envy.

  Swallowing, and ducking her head away from those twenty-five pairs of enquiring eyes, Alys motioned to the guards to let her out of the barn.

  And lifting a hand, Stina watched her go.

  The three men urged their horses after the children, who had escaped into the forest on their waddling ponies.

  It did not take long to catch them.

  ‘Why are you running away?’ The oldest of the three asked, his grey-flecked beard so
long it touched his swordbelt.

  Magnus’ eyes wandered down the beard to the belt, where he noted a number of weapons sticking out beneath a thick cloak just covering the top of a pair of muddy boots. They appeared old but well taken care of, Magnus thought, shivering. He looked up, wanting to be brave for his sister, though the man had a hard face: sharp cheekbones; scars running down the side of a prominent nose, cutting through the top of his upper lip, twisting it menacingly. ‘You were ch-chasing us.’

  Long Beard laughed, dismounting, stretching his back with a groan and a fart. They had been riding for days, heading for Slussfall, eager to report back to their lord. ‘You are lost?’

  Magnus wasn’t sure.

  ‘We’re not lost!’ Lotta insisted bravely, jutting out her tiny chin.

  Long Beard’s companions dismounted, coming to join him, eyes on the pretty little girl and her red-faced brother.

  ‘How old are you?’ Long Beard wondered. ‘Five?’

  ‘I’m nearly nine!’ Lotta grumbled crossly. ‘I’m not five!’

  Magnus wanted to tell his sister to shut up. They didn’t need to be talking to these men any longer than necessary. ‘We’re going to visit our great-grandfather.’

  Long Beard’s companions looked even more terrifying than him.

  One wore a leather eye patch. He had long black hair, some tied in a multitude of tiny braids, the rest hanging down his back in a tangled mess. Tiny blue symbols were tattooed across his nose; across his forehead too. His eyes were small, dark and beady, and he screwed them up even smaller as he considered the two children.

  The other man was the youngest of the three, and he was almost handsome, though his hair was mostly shaved off, exposing a head covered in scars and swirling tattoos, that made him appear sinister and threatening.