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

by A. E. Rayne

  Eventually, he shuffled away from the grassy mound he’d laid his old body down onto, brushing away a stone he hadn’t noticed earlier. Reaching out a cold hand, he yawned, reassuring himself that his swordbelt was in reach, and lying back down again, he closed his eyes.

  Memories of Alys came rushing towards him like a storm. They had been inseparable once, since she was an orphaned six-year-old and he was a lonely widower. And now, twenty-two years later, she was so far away from him, and her children were so far away from her.

  Was that true?

  Jonas felt confused, sleepy and sad. And for the first time in his life, he wanted a dreamer to come to him and show him what he needed to see.

  He wanted a dream.

  And closing his eyes, Jonas Bergstrom tried to find one.

  Morning dawned through a thick fog. Even the tops of the inner guard towers were hidden beneath the dense mist. It was a freezing sort of fog that had everyone shuddering, heads ducked low against the cold, but Alys didn’t notice as she hurried across the square, trying not to slip over. There had certainly been a frost in the night, for the mud had hardened, turning icy in patches.

  Alys held out her hands, stepping carefully as she hurried towards the barn, eager to talk to Stina. She had found something in the book that might be a way to save the children, but she was going to need some help.

  The two men guarding the barn looked frozen solid. They stood on either side of the doors, jiggling, hands cupped around bearded mouths, blowing on gloved fingers.

  ‘Alys!’

  Alys froze, not wanting to be delayed.

  ‘Where are you off to?’

  It was Sigurd, who was eager to get moving. After the best sleep he’d had in weeks, he almost felt like himself again, and he wanted to make the most of the day.

  Alys reluctantly turned around. ‘I was going to see my friends. I wondered if I could... take one of them to my cottage?’

  Sigurd’s blue eyes narrowed, sensing her unease. She seemed unable to focus on his face; her cheeks were flushed pink, her body trembling. ‘Are you alright?’

  Alys nodded quickly. ‘It’s my friend, Stina. She wasn’t well yesterday.’ That was a lie. ‘And when I woke, I thought it was so cold. I’m... worried about her.’ Alys braved those searching eyes. ‘I have my fire going. I’m heating some water. I thought I’d bring her to sit with me.’

  ‘Sigurd!’ Tulia was striding through the fog towards them. ‘How did you get past me?’ She smiled at him, frowning at Alys. ‘What’s going on? You haven’t had another dream have you?’ She peered at Alys, who was squirming away from them both. ‘Or perhaps you’re ready for your next lesson?’

  ‘Lesson?’ Alys froze. ‘Archery, you mean?’

  ‘You don’t need to be taught how to use a bow, that would be a waste of my time, but Reinar wants you trained,’ Tulia said, shivering, ‘so I’m going to teach you how to fight.’

  Sigurd grinned. ‘I’d like to see that.’

  Alys looked horrified. ‘What sort of fighting?’ She saw flashes of Arnon striking her, rushing her, knocking her against the table, dragging her to the bed. She heard the cries of their children, who sheltered in the shadows; Magnus’ eyes filled with tears as he held Lotta to him, wishing he could save her. Alys nodded, blinking her memories away, knowing she had little choice. ‘I would like to see my friend first. She is not well.’ And for the first time, Alys started to wonder if that was true.

  ‘Well, don’t be long. And send the other women out. We need to make a start. Everyone should be well-rested, ready to begin.’

  Amir and Ludo walked towards them, blinking tired eyes open.

  ‘How can you be tired after all that sleep?’ Tulia wondered, relieved not to be facing another day of arguing about dreams and omens that had no bearing on reality. ‘Ludo, help the dreamer get the women outside. They’ve eaten, I hope?’ She eyed the guards, who both nodded. ‘Good! Then we can begin.’

  Alys left them behind, eager to see Stina, feeling strange, and when she saw her, those feelings only heightened. Stina looked haunted, oddly drawn. There was no smile on her face, nothing sparkling in her eyes. She almost shied away as Alys approached. ‘What is it? Stina?’

  Stina ignored Alys’ concern, not wanting to worry her. ‘Something I ate,’ she insisted, trying to smile. ‘The food is not the best. I think they’re giving us scraps meant for the pigs. My stomach was griping all night.’

  Alys didn’t really believe her, but she was distracted by Ludo, who quickly started ordering everyone to leave the barn. ‘I’ll talk to Reinar about the food.’ She blushed, reminded of the last time she’d talked to Reinar. ‘If he wants to use you to help defend his fort, he needs to treat you better than this.’ The barn still stunk, the straw was damp, the roof was leaking, and there was no fire to warm the women, who looked blue-lipped and frozen solid. ‘You go with Ludo, and I’ll go and find him.’

  Stina grabbed her arm. ‘No, don’t go yet.’ As much as she wanted to be alone and hide from everything that Torvig had done to her, she wanted the comfort of Alys’ company. ‘Tell me what they’ll do to us now. Today.’

  ‘I’m not sure. They want you to help. They’ll train you, isn’t that right?’ She turned to Ludo, who looked overwhelmed by the number of women heading towards him, teeth chattering, most of them with questions and complaints.

  Stina, in the end, had proven to be of no use with a bow, so Alys wasn’t sure what would happen to her.

  ‘Ummm...’ Ludo tried to remember the woman’s name. ‘Stina!’ He smiled. ‘You’re with me. I’m going to show you how to use a spear.’

  Stina nodded dully, eyes on Sigurd Vilander, who had limped into the barn. She saw him watching Alys, curious about what the dreamer was doing.

  ‘Let’s make a start!’ Sigurd called, inhaling the stink with a frown. ‘Training will warm you up!’

  The grumbling women did not look impressed.

  He didn’t blame them.

  Many families had left Ottby over the past few months. Many in the past few days. There were empty cottages everywhere. It was time to move the women. He touched Alys’ arm. ‘Tulia’s going to be working with you, I know, but first, why don’t we go and speak to Reinar? See what we can do about moving your friends before tonight.’

  Alys looked around in surprise, but she nodded, and though it was not what she needed to be doing, she followed him out of the barn with a glance back at Stina, who was staring after her with a strange look in her eyes.

  22

  Magnus was mucking out the stables, which wasn’t the worst task, he supposed with a sigh. The farmer had given him a bowl of something that might have been gruel, with a cup of foul-smelling water for breakfast. Both had made him gag and wonder how it would be possible to survive in this place long enough to escape and rescue Lotta.

  Then, remembering what Long Beard had suggested to the farmer’s wife about him only needing to be fed once a day, Magnus had held his nose and swallowed everything down. He needed strength. And he needed to earn the farmer’s trust quickly. For only then would he have a chance to escape and head for Slussfall.

  He was never going to forget that odd name.

  Slussfall.

  Where Long Beard and Silver Tooth had taken Lotta.

  He hoped they’d make it, that they wouldn’t die like Eye Patch had.

  For he wanted to take their lives himself.

  Flurries of snow dusted Mother’s grey curls as she shuffled along beside Falla. They were heading out of the old stone fort, hoping to find some mushrooms in a densely wooded area to the south.

  Falla was happy to leave her son behind. He had been needy, clinging to her like a red-faced crab, wailing about a sore belly. Happily, Karolina had agreed to watch him. She seemed to like children, though not her husband, Falla thought with a grin, slipping on an ice-covered rock.

  ‘Careful now,’ Mother scolded, eyes on her own path. ‘I don’t wish to carry you back!’ She c
huckled, imagining how such a thing would look. It made her think of Borg, who had liked to lift her into the air when he was a boy, determined to show his father how strong he was becoming. He had never been big, much like her, she supposed, but out of all her sons, he had been her favourite.

  And though it had been three years since his death, it was often surprising to realise that he was gone.

  ‘Will you find more of the seeds?’ Falla whispered, for though they had left everyone back at the fort, she didn’t want Lief discovering that she was trying not to get pregnant. He would take it badly, and he wouldn’t understand why. She felt reasonably content in her choice of husband, though she disliked being a mother. She knew that, eventually, Lief would require his own blood son, but she wanted to wait, to delay the horrific event for as long as possible.

  ‘We will, don’t worry,’ Mother assured her. ‘Seeds and mushrooms, stones and herbs. Everything we can find for the war. For we will be warriors, Falla my girl, just as much as those men. They sharpen their blades and make their arrows, and we, in turn, must prepare our own weapons.’ She felt Falla still beside her as they slipped through the trees, her eyes on the lichen-green trunks, thinking. ‘For our enemy has a dreamer. And we must be prepared to battle her.’ She pushed Falla away with one hand. ‘Now, get on your knees down there, those are just the mushrooms we need. The red ones, the ones with the white spots. But be careful, I don’t want to lose you before you can be of real use to me! Hurry now, for those men are preparing to leave. And we must be ready to go with them!’

  Torvig wouldn’t meet the dreamer’s eye.

  He stood near Reinar, who was arguing with Bolli about reinforcing the ditches around the low wall. The old helmsman was insisting they dig them wider rather than deeper. Reinar was convinced that the ladders would be able to reach the wall no matter how wide they made them, certain that depth and stakes was the real answer.

  Torvig and Bjarni stood on the sidelines, trying to get a word in.

  Bolli was red-faced, hand on his spade, not fancying a day of digging, but wanting to make a start. All this arguing was wasting time.

  Reinar looked ready to burst. ‘Dig them deeper! And if you have time, dig them wider too!’ He spun around, eyes on his brother, surprised to see Alys, his temper receding quickly. ‘What is it?’ He glanced at Alys, remembering the softness of her lips; remembering his wife’s lips too. ‘Have you seen something?’

  Sigurd was the one who spoke. ‘It’s the Ullaberg women. It makes no sense to keep treating them like slaves. You can’t inspire anyone to help you unless they see a reason to, Reinar. And no beaten animal wants to fight for its master.’

  Reinar looked cross. ‘You’re saying they’ve been mistreated?’ He glanced at Alys.

  Again Sigurd spoke, his breath forming clouds around his face. ‘They’re in a barn. Snow’s coming, can’t you feel it? And there’s no fire. No furs. No beds. They’re freezing and tired. They need to be in cottages, and we’ve got plenty spare now. If it’s not a joke, what Tulia’s doing, if you truly want them to fight for us, then treat them like you’d treat your men.’

  Reinar was freezing, already desperate to warm his numb fingers over a fire, and he felt impatient to get on. ‘See to it, then, Brother. You’re not much use yet, so why don’t you hobble around all day, finding them homes. Ask Gerda to help you.’ Sigurd froze, and Reinar laughed, happy to have poked his brother where it hurt; it made a change from all the fingers poking him.

  ‘I’m not sure I need to bother Gerda.’ Sigurd was already backing up towards the gates. ‘I can ask Agnette.’

  Bjarni chuckled. ‘Not sure Agnette can help you, my friend. She’ll be far too busy caring for your father.’

  ‘And they need clothes,’ Alys added. ‘When you took us, we weren’t dressed properly. Some of us, at least.’ She blinked away the glimpses of that moment as every man stilled around her, feeling awkward. Except for Torvig, she noticed, who was considering her with hooded eyes. Shivering, Alys turned to Reinar. ‘Some have no boots. No cloak. A few were still in their nightdresses.’

  Now Reinar did feel bad. He looked at Sigurd. ‘You’ll need Gerda’s help, as well as Agnette’s. It will take some time to find clothes to fit them all.’ He tried not to notice Elin’s green dress, peeking out from Elin’s golden cloak, both of them now worn by Alys, who he wanted to kiss again. ‘I’m sure you’ll find something, though.’

  Sigurd tapped Alys on the shoulder. ‘Well, come on. I’d better get you back to Tulia. She’ll be wanting to get her hands on you.’

  Bolli looked up in surprise, eyes on Reinar, who was watching his brother lead the dreamer away. ‘You really think they’re going to be any use?’ he snorted, remembering the wailing women who’d clung to each other in Dagger’s bow. Hardly promising warriors.

  ‘No,’ Torvig grumped. ‘They’re just a distraction. Tulia’s wasting her time, thinking she can turn Alekka into Kalmera. I don’t know the place, and maybe the women there are born with swords in their hands, but ours aren’t. Alekkan women learn weaving and sewing. They learn how to cook and keep their men happy. How to make a home and raise children. I’m sure they could pluck a chicken and bake a loaf of bread, but hold a wall? Protect the ramparts? Fight off siege towers and Hakon Vettel’s army?’ He shook his head, slamming his spade into the frozen earth. ‘They’re no use to us, and you know it.’

  Reinar was surprised by Torvig’s tone, which grated like branches on a window.

  Bjarni wasn’t. Torvig was a snake, though Bjarni could never figure out what he wanted. Torvig had left Alekka as a young man, returning only recently, quickly wriggling his way back to reclaim his old place by Reinar’s side. And, after twelve years without him, Bjarni was struggling to find where he fit in. Reinar had stopped listening to him as much, turning to Torvig more and more.

  But, Bjarni realised, what did it matter now?

  They were childhood squabbles and jealousies. What bearing did they have on their lives now, when they were about to risk everything to defend Ottby and the bridge? He looked down at the solid ground with a sigh.

  Reinar stared at Torvig, irritated himself. ‘You think Tulia shouldn’t bother? That we shouldn’t try to do everything we can?’

  ‘I think we’ve little time to prepare for the Vettels. We should use it wisely. And Tulia’s better out here digging with those arms of hers. All the women are.’

  Reinar stared at Torvig, wondering if he was right. ‘Well, we’ll see,’ he muttered. ‘See how she goes today.’ And picking up his own spade, Reinar tried to get the image of Alys’ lips out of his mind.

  Sigurd had left Alys with Tulia, who had taken Ilene out of the larger group of women. She was the only other one capable of using a bow with accuracy and skill. Alys glanced at Ilene, who scowled back at her. She was a plump-looking woman with eyes a little too close together, breasts that she tended to push out, and buttocks so round and pronounced that the men of Ullaberg liked to make jokes about her. Though it had always been hard to feel sorry for Ilene Gislar. She had slept with Arnon often, and though it hadn’t made Alys jealous, it had made Ilene see her as a rival. She had tried in vain to lure Arnon away from his wife and children. Alys wished she had. But Arnon had remained, until his death, loyal to her.

  She sighed, distracted by old memories, until Tulia’s voice cut through the fog like a shard of ice.

  ‘The archers will man the walls!’ Tulia called, pacing in front of the two shivering women. ‘And that may be enough! We may hold them out, but they will likely make it onto the ramparts, or through the gates. And then what? What use can you be to us then?’ She glared at Alys, sensing that Reinar wouldn’t let his precious dreamer anywhere near Hakon Vettel’s men. And turning her attention to Ilene, she looked the girl up and down, noticing her thin nightdress, her bare feet. ‘When those men are in the fort, what can you do to stop them?’

  ‘Perhaps Alys can put a spell on them?’ Ilene suggested tartly. ‘Now
that we all know she’s a witch.’ She smiled at Alys, menace in her brown eyes.

  Alys kept her own eyes on Tulia, trying not to reveal how desperately she did not want to be doing this. She needed to be back in the cottage with the book, trying to help her children.

  Tulia could sense the tension between the two women, and if she hadn’t been so cold, it might have amused her. ‘We’ll try swords.’

  Alys blinked as Tulia handed her one of the wooden swords she’d been holding, giving the other to Ilene.

  ‘Let’s see what you can do,’ Tulia said, eyes drifting momentarily, squinting through the fog, trying to see how much success Amir and Ludo were having.

  She could hear a few exasperated cries, which was not encouraging.

  Tulia stepped back, her eyes barely returning to the two women before Ilene had lunged at Alys, sword swinging wildly, cracking her across the neck with the wooden blade.

  Alys yelped, slipping on the icy mud, stumbling down to the ground with a thud.

  Tulia was impressed, looking at Ilene with renewed interest. ‘What is your name, girl?’

  ‘Ilene.’

  ‘Well, Ilene, that was a good show, but what now? You can knock the dreamer down as there’s not much to her. But a man? A trained warrior, body padded in armour and mail, long sword made of iron, shield at his chest, helmet covering his head. What will you do with him?’

  Ilene’s teeth were bared as she considered Tulia. ‘I would stick my blade through his balls.’

  Tulia laughed as Alys dragged herself back to her feet, noticing Sigurd in the distance as he limped past with Gerda. She was distracted, and, as she stood, Ilene lunged at her again, poking her in the belly with the tip of the wooden blade, kicking her in the kneecap, knocking her straight down to the mud again.