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

by A. E. Rayne

  Everything went dark again and then she was on her knees, before the tree.

  Hands on bark. Bleeding.

  She could feel the trunk vibrating beneath her hands, as though the woman’s voice was coming from inside it now, and Alys stood, wanting to return to the fort. Then she saw it. Hands removed from the trunk, she saw what they had been covering.

  Symbols. Tiny little symbols.

  Glowing like embers on the tree.

  27

  Alys jerked awake.

  She couldn’t catch her breath, and panicking, she glanced around, grabbing Agnette’s hand.

  ‘Alys!’ Agnette looked relieved.

  ‘You’re alive!’ Eddeth poked her head around Agnette. ‘What good news!’ She stuck out a finger, rubbing salve over Alys’ forehead.

  ‘Aarrghh!’ Alys tried to escape; the pain was excruciating.

  ‘Just a little bit,’ Eddeth insisted. ‘Your head is swelling like a cow ready for milking. You won’t be able to sleep tonight if we don’t get that down. Though you’ve been asleep for a while now, so perhaps you won’t miss it?’ And mumbling to herself, she lightened her touch slightly, rubbing the salve over Alys’ lump.

  It stunk.

  Alys gagged, but Eddeth wasn’t letting her move.

  ‘How are you?’ Agnette asked, wanting to open the door. The odours in the cottage had been growing more intense, and she was barely able to stomach the smell. She lifted a hand to her nose, blinking.

  ‘I...’ Alys couldn’t catch her breath. ‘I have to go!’

  Eddeth ignored her entirely. ‘I’m brewing a tonic, I am. Full of healing herbs. We can talk about them, if you like? I can tell you all about their magical powers.’

  Alys tried to get her attention. ‘Eddeth, please, I will come back for the tonic. We can talk then, but I have to go now!’

  Agnette nudged Eddeth out of the way. ‘Put your finger back in that jar, Eddeth Nagel!’ she ordered. ‘Alys needs to go. Where?’ she wondered, peering at Alys, who looked like a beaten warrior now with her black eye, swollen nose, and egg-shaped head.

  ‘I need to see Reinar!’

  His horse had dropped dead.

  Feeling Klippr starting to struggle, Jonas had stopped by a brook, deciding that he just needed a long drink. He’d dismounted, and left Klippr drinking while he foraged in the woods looking for berries and mushrooms, feeling hungry.

  Hearing an oddly loud thump, which didn’t sound like any creature he knew of, Jonas had hurried back to the brook, knife out, wondering what was happening, only to discover his beloved horse had fallen to the ground.

  Dead.

  It was a shock, and Jonas sat with him for hours, hand on his neck, stroking his mane, tears rolling down his cold cheeks, unable to move. Klippr had been by his side for over twenty years. They had battled together, gone hunting together, and for the last few years, they had been happily growing old together.

  He felt reluctant to leave Klippr behind, though it was the perfect sort of resting spot, he realised, listening to the gentle rush of water, the chippering birds flitting amongst the trees.

  Sobs rose up in Jonas’ chest, his head dropping forward, unable to bring himself to say goodbye.

  Loss never became easy to bear. And this loss was catastrophic, for he had not only lost a dear friend, he had lost his way to Slussfall. And with Klippr’s death, Jonas had lost time. He couldn’t cut through the mountain pass now. He would have to head east and find another horse. He half-doubted he’d find anything, but his heavy pouch jingled with silver, and his grief-stricken mind eventually wandered to his poor grandchildren, and Jonas knew he had to leave.

  So, unstrapping the saddle, and slipping the bridle over Klippr’s head, Jonas cut a clump of his chestnut hair. And taking one final look at his faithful companion, tears streaming down his face, he slipped away into the trees.

  Agnette helped Alys into the hall against her better judgement. ‘You really should go to your cottage and lie down,’ she insisted.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Alys insisted right back, though her ears were buzzing more loudly with each step, and as soon as Agnette had helped her inside the hall, she slipped out of her grasp, hurrying to a bench, dropping her head between her knees, trying not to faint.

  ‘Alys!’ Reinar left the map table behind, stepping around the fire, eyes full of concern, Sigurd and Ludo not far behind him. ‘Are you alright?’

  ‘I think she’s feeling faint,’ Agnette said. ‘Could be whatever Eddeth rubbed on her head. It smelled so vile I could vomit.’

  And reaching his ashen-faced wife, Bjarni screwed up his nose in agreement.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Alys mumbled, head still between her knees, hair draped over the floorboards. And taking a slow, deep breath, she gradually lifted her head.

  Ludo gasped, staring at her. ‘That looks sore.’

  Sigurd agreed. ‘I imagine you left a hole in the tree.’

  Alys grimaced, her head throbbing. Her vision was blurred, but she could see Reinar, frowning, looming over her like a shadow spirit. ‘I have to talk to you.’

  He nodded, helping her to stand. ‘We can go to my chamber.’

  Alys didn’t nod, for she didn’t want to move her head at all, and gently easing one foot after the other, she let Reinar lead her through the hall, enjoying the warmth of his hand on hers.

  Tulia joined Sigurd, eyes on Agnette, who was ready for a drink of spiced wine to settle her stomach. ‘What does she want to talk to Reinar about?’

  Agnette shrugged. ‘She wouldn’t say. Sounds urgent, though. Maybe she had a dream?’

  The march was not going to be easy, and the reality of what lay ahead finally hit Hakon like a dip in an ice lake. He had stopped the army so they could eat and drink, wanting his warriors and their horses to be well-rested when they arrived in Ottby. He didn’t plan on sending a sickly bunch of frozen, half-starved men with blistered feet and no love for their lord into battle. They were unlikely to want to bleed for him after such punishment. Though, Hakon realised, glaring at the bleak sky, he doubted they could avoid being frozen.

  ‘What did you dream about, Mother?’ he asked, turning his attention to the old woman, who was ripping meat off a pork bone with sharp teeth. ‘Falla told me you were mumbling away to yourself in your sleep. Perhaps you saw our enemy?’ They sat on stools by Mother’s wagon, around a hastily built fire that was barely withstanding the worst of the blustery weather. The snow had followed them, but it was still only flurries, though the air was getting colder and Hakon knew it wouldn’t be long before everything was covered in ice, perhaps even blanketed in snow.

  Mother appeared irritated by the question. Talking would interrupt her eating, and she still had half a trencher to get through. ‘I dreamed of problems, but also solutions.’ She smiled at Hakon, teeth full of meat. ‘Nothing I can share, though. Nothing at all. Not yet. Dreamers must percolate their thoughts, for only then will the true path be revealed.’

  Hakon nodded as though he was seriously considering her words.

  Ivan, who was looking for more ale, burst out laughing. ‘I’m not sure you even know what that means, Cousin!’ He nudged Hakon, who didn’t look impressed. ‘Seems to me a dreamer could say anything, and you’d have to believe her. How would you know otherwise?’

  Mother’s eyes darkened, her forehead wrinkling. ‘You, Ivan Vettel, would do well to think before you speak. You may lead a great army and have a powerful lord beside you, but what do you know of your own destiny? I’ve told Hakon about his, of course, but perhaps you would like to know what I see for you?’

  Ivan tried to maintain his smile, but it faltered beneath the gaze of those maniacal eyes. Mother was an odd-looking, boulder-shaped creature, with a voice like thunder. ‘I would, yes,’ he said, calling her bluff. ‘Why not? While we sit here, freezing our arses off, why not provide us all with some entertainment?’ He swept his hand around their little circle. Lief sat beside Falla, arm wrapped around her, tryi
ng to keep her warm. Mother hunched over next to her, scowling. Hakon was there. Erlan Stari and Alef Olstein, and three of their best warriors too.

  They all looked on with interest.

  Ivan stood, waiting, eyes on Mother, who slowly put down her trencher and picked up her cup, running a finger around its rim, staring into the dark liquid. ‘You are destined to die by the hand of one you know!’ Her voice rose like the cry of the wind. ‘Your death will be without glory! Without honour! I see that. I see you on your knees, bloody hand extended...’ Mother’s eyes rolled around, greasy fingers in the frosty air. ‘Reaching... you are reaching for your sword, which has fallen from your grasp. Yet do you reach it? Do you earn for yourself a warrior’s death? Do you earn Thenor’s favour?’ Mother’s eyes returned to the cup as she thought of what to say. She had seen few visions of Ivan Vettel. He was not someone she chose to waste much time on. But he was a smart-mouthed fool, and likely a miserable end was foretold for him, for the gods would not honour such a worthless boy in any other way.

  Ivan burst out laughing, slapping his thigh. ‘Perfect! Perfect! I like that story very much, Mother!’ He winked at Hakon, who looked disturbed. ‘It will keep me on my toes as I approach the battle.’ He peered at Hakon. ‘Perhaps my killer will be my cousin? Or you, Lief Gundersen?’ Ivan stared at Lief, who looked on with his usual unreadable expression. ‘Or you, Erlan?’ And shaking his legs, Ivan turned away, ready to get back on the road again. The cold had a way of claiming you when you stood still for too long, and he wanted to get away from the exposed cliffs before they made camp for the night. There were forests ahead that offered more shelter, and he was determined to reach them. ‘Come along, Cousin!’ he grinned at Hakon. ‘We can’t sit around listening to stories from old women when we have an enemy to defeat!’ And clapping Hakon on the back, Ivan headed for his horse, not letting his cheerful expression slip until he was a few paces away.

  ‘How is Milka?’ Alys wondered, sitting down, shaking her head at the cup of wine Reinar offered her. ‘She went down so suddenly. Is she alright?’

  ‘Ludo seems to think so. I’ll check on her when we’re done here.’

  ‘I wasn’t paying attention. I should have seen the hole.’

  Reinar looked guilty himself. ‘Could’ve been that we were both distracted. There’s so much to think about. I didn’t help, getting angry like that. I’m sorry.’

  Alys blinked, sharp pains shooting through her head. ‘I saw something while I was unconscious.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘Yes. The tree... I remember seeing a tree before everything went dark.’

  ‘You hit a tree.’

  ‘In my dream, I was in front of the tree, touching it.’ Alys tried to take herself back there, to the dream, with the cottage and that voice, and the fire. ‘I touched the tree, and when I took my hands away, there were symbols carved into the bark.’

  Reinar didn’t register any reaction. He didn’t understand what she was saying.

  Alys realised that she should have spoken to Eddeth first. She didn’t know symbols at all, but the words that woman had spoken came back to her, and she was immediately certain. ‘It’s a curse. The symbols are a curse. Can we go back to the tree? Maybe I dreamed it all, and it’s not real, but if those symbols are there, I’m sure it’s a curse.’

  Eddeth’s day felt as though it had been tipped upside down, and despite the often chaotic nature of her thoughts, she was a creature of habit. And once her routines were disrupted, she felt out of sorts, unable to get back on track.

  She stood in the middle of her cottage, nightdress too close to the flames, hands on her head, trying to remember what she had been about to do before Agnette had pounded on the door. ‘The tea! The tea!’ she remembered gleefully, eyes on her cat, Rigfuss, who peered at her from under the bed. Eddeth blinked, wondering how he’d gotten under there, knowing that she was going to have to pull him out. And grumbling to herself, she bent down, dropping onto her hands and knees, ignoring his spitting and growling as she tried to grab hold of something that wasn’t going to scratch or bite her.

  The knock on the door made her jump, and whacking her head on the wooden bed frame, Eddeth yelped in annoyance, frightening the cat, who whipped out a paw, stabbing his claws into her cheek. Yelping some more, and wriggling out from under the bed with speed, Eddeth sat back on her heels, hoping it wasn’t that nosey Agnette again. ‘What?’ she barked.

  ‘Eddeth!’

  But no, it appeared to be Reinar Vilander. Likely with that dreamer.

  Eddeth forgot all about her aching head and her bleeding cheek as she rushed to the door, swinging it open. ‘My lord! And my dreamer! You have need of me, I think? I can tell! Ahhh, yes, I can tell! Sometimes, I do wonder, don’t you?’ She eyed Reinar, who didn’t say anything, knowing from experience that it would have little bearing on what Eddeth said or did.

  ‘I shall change and be out immediately!’ And slamming the door in their faces, Eddeth disappeared back inside.

  Reinar turned to Alys, half embarrassed, half amused. ‘You don’t have to come.’ He saw her swaying, and he slipped an arm around her back. ‘Here, sit down.’ There was a mossy bench outside Eddeth’s house that almost had enough space to sit down upon. Mostly it was filled with old boots. Eddeth liked to leave them out for mice to hide in. Houses, she’d decided. With that many holes in them, and soles flapping, they no longer made useful boots, but they did make good houses for tiny creatures in need of shelter.

  ‘I need to,’ Alys said quietly, sitting down, head between her knees again, all the pain rushing to the lump on her forehead. ‘I need to see the symbol. To see if it’s there.’

  And in the next breath, the door opened again, and Eddeth stood there, wrapped in a cloak, nightdress poking out beneath it. Barefoot and smiling.

  Reinar frowned, pointing her back to the door. ‘Boots.’

  Nodding, Eddeth scurried back inside, returning with a pair of old boots in her hand that looked in no better condition than the ones on the bench. ‘I don’t want to delay us,’ she muttered, hopping on one dirty foot, while trying to stick a boot on the other. ‘For I fear we must hurry!’

  Alys slowly lifted her head, and taking Reinar’s hand, she stood, turning to the healer. ‘I think you’re right, Eddeth.’ And letting Reinar slip her arm through his, she wobbled along beside him, heading for the stables.

  Eddeth followed after them, shuffling, sometimes skipping, eyes jumping around, still wondering which combination of herbs she was going to use for her first libation of the day.

  Sigurd and Tulia had returned to the training ring, where Amir seemed to be doing less training with Ilene and more flirting. Tulia shot him a look Amir knew well, and tearing himself away from Ilene and her lustrous blonde hair, he picked up a wooden staff, handing it to her.

  Ludo walked past them with his Ullaberg women, on the way to the inner wall ramparts where they were going to take an inventory of the braziers. The braziers would need to be spread out amongst the ramparts on both walls, so each group of archers would have quick access to one. They needed to ensure that enough were left in the square too, to help them see while the catapults were firing.

  Ludo frowned, realising that he hadn’t discussed where to position the catapults with Reinar. He would have to go and find him when he was done. ‘Come on!’ he called impatiently, stuck behind the dawdling women. Though perhaps they weren’t dawdling, he realised, knowing that his legs were much longer than theirs. And grinning, Ludo put out a hand, ushering Stina ahead of him. She was just about to be trampled by a flock of sheep being moved into the fort. Now that the threat of attack was well and truly upon them, they were clearing the paddocks and the pasture lands, which would soon make the fort close quarters for man and beast alike.

  Again Stina flinched, and Ludo felt terrible. ‘I don’t mean to keep scaring you,’ he said apologetically, slowing down to walk beside her.

  Stina looked up at him, trying to
smile, her attention quickly drawn to Alys, who was once again leaving the fort with Reinar Vilander. Alys seemed so far away now that Stina didn’t feel as though she could talk to her about anything. She sighed. ‘You don’t scare me. It’s just rather daunting, the idea of fighting for our freedom. I’m not sure we can make much difference.’

  ‘Well, I think we’re all fighting for our freedom now,’ Ludo admitted, eyes on the guard tower ahead. ‘Just open the door, go inside! Up the stairs!’ he called to Jorunn. ‘Though, this was always our fight. Never yours.’

  ‘No,’ Stina agreed, trying to lift her head. What had happened was done. Done. She had to tell herself that or she was never going to be able to move forward. ‘But we’re here now. And if we want to live and see our homes and families again, we’re going to have to fight with you.’

  Ludo nodded, motioning with his hand for Stina to head inside. And following after her, he looked over his shoulder, watching as Reinar rode his giant black horse through the inner gates after Eddeth and Alys.

  Vik Lofgren was the suspicious type.

  He sacrificed to the gods often, though he was sure Jonas didn’t know that.

  He’d survived many a battle; more than any man he knew of. His wounds had been few; most, mere scratches. Yet he had fought bare-chested, shieldless, his swords flaying his enemies as though they were part of him. Vik believed it was because he served as a weapon of the gods. Of Thenor himself.

  So his nightly practice required him to give thanks.

  Even now, as a man approaching old age, he had a sense that his service wasn’t done. He’d hunted and fished. He’d smoked and cured. He’d kept his cottage in good order, and himself too.

  And he’d waited for a sign that it was time to rejoin the fray.

  It had been a surprise, though, when the sign had finally come.