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

by A. E. Rayne

  Agnette could feel Bjarni’s hand twitching, and she smiled. Despite any worries he might be chewing over, he could still fall asleep as soon as his eyes closed.

  And there it was... the first gentle snore.

  She swallowed, uncomfortable in the bed, wanting to move, her mind alert, her eyes wide open. And slipping her hand out of Bjarni’s, she placed it on her belly.

  Staring into the darkness.

  Jonas was pissing behind a tree when he heard Magnus scream out. Jiggling on the spot, he yanked up his trousers, jumping over a log, hurrying back to their campsite, into the tent.

  But Vik was already there, Magnus in his arms.

  ‘Think he’s still asleep,’ Vik mumbled, easing Magnus down onto the grass, lying his bed fur over him. And content that the boy was settled again, he followed Jonas out of the tent.

  Puffing out a smoky breath, Jonas collapsed beside the fire, hands out, rubbing them together. He had no idea how late it was, but neither man felt tired. They were on edge, knowing they had some way to go to Slussfall; both of them worrying that they would miss Lotta somehow.

  It was unsettling to know how much they needed her captors to stay alive.

  Yet, what would those men do to her in the meantime?

  Vik threw a branch onto the fire. The flames sparked and spat at them, but they were both grateful for the warmth. It had snowed off and on during the day, but nothing too heavy now, and they hoped that would continue. ‘I’ve been thinking we should head west.’

  ‘You do?’

  Vik nodded. ‘Those men sound like old hands. The way Magnus described them?’ Vik could almost picture them. ‘They talked of Hakon Vettel and Slussfall, as though they knew him. Maybe they travelled the other road?’

  ‘They talked of Stornas too, that’s what Magnus said. Stornas, Ottby, Slussfall.’ Jonas’ mind was whirring.

  ‘The Vettel boy’s been stirring since Stellan Vilander tore off his father’s head. Both him and that fool cousin of his. That’s what I hear.’

  ‘To kill the Vilanders?’

  Vik shrugged. ‘Likely more, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Ake should have ended the Vettel boys all those years ago.’

  ‘Well, they were children,’ Jonas said. ‘He couldn’t bring himself to do it. Could you?’

  ‘I could. You could too, Jonas. We did worse, I’m sure, in our time. The Vettel line needed to be burned like a wound. Cauterised. Ended. Just a scar on the landscape, forgotten over time.’

  ‘Hakon Vettel took Slussfall with speed from what I hear. Killed hundreds. Women and children. Everyone. His cousin right by his side.’ Jonas had been to Slussfall many times over the years. Sirrus Ahlmann had been a loyal ally to Ake, but he hadn’t been able to stand in the face of the Vettels, and their swelling army bent on revenge.

  ‘Tells you something about the boy and what Ottby will face, then. Though, he shouldn’t be too confident going up against those walls.’ Vik smiled, remembering Ottby. Stellan Vilander had been part of their brotherhood. One of Ake’s best men. He had commanded a double-walled fortress of stone, and that fortress had held back every assault from the Vettels over the years. It hadn’t just been the Vettels who sought to take Ake’s throne either. The King of Alekka had been embattled by his Northern enemies since wrenching Stornas from Jorek Vettel’s bloodthirsty grasp. Those north of The Rift were mostly a rag-tag bunch of warring tribes, though, never rising above their own rivalries long enough to mount a sustained campaign.

  ‘Not just Ottby’s walls either. With Hovring and Vika to support them, Hakon Vettel doesn’t stand a chance. He can’t go around them, he can’t go through them, and he won’t get over them.’ It was nice to talk about those things they’d left in the past now. It made them feel young for a moment.

  ‘I hope you’re right,’ Vik murmured, yawning, eyes back on the tent. ‘Though, they’ll struggle without Stellan leading the line. His boys are useful enough, I know. Both of them. Good men too. But they’re not their father, are they?’

  Jonas tucked his cloak around himself, catching Vik’s yawn. ‘No, they’re not, but Stellan raised them well. They’d do anything not to let him down.’

  Tulia lay naked in his arms and Sigurd was reluctant to move, though she had all the furs and he was freezing. The fire had gone out, but the lamps burned low, and as he smoothed hair away from her cheek, he could see the bronzed glow of her skin. The serenity of her face when she was sleeping was a constant surprise. She looked content and peaceful.

  She never looked that way when she was awake.

  He tried nudging her gently, hoping to encourage her to roll over on her own, but Tulia merely sighed and moved towards him. Sigurd smiled, giving up, deciding that he’d rather freeze than lose the feeling of her body resting on his.

  He felt guilty for bringing her to Ottby. She hated it. The cold, the bleak skies, the stone fortress. She came from a place where the horizon was expansive, the land covered in sand. And sun. Golden, warm sun, beating down overhead like a fire. The nights were cold, but the days were bright, the sky so blue you wanted to swim in it.

  Sigurd missed it himself, and though he often thought he’d reached a decision to leave Ottby for good, he could never make the final break. The fort was more than his home; just like Reinar, it was his reason for being. They had been raised to believe that Ottby and its walls mattered. That they mattered to the safety and survival of Alekka.

  Sigurd had been saved by Stellan from a certain death. Given a home and a family that he loved with all his heart.

  He held onto Tulia tighter, feeling sad, knowing that whatever happened, he couldn’t abandon Reinar and Ottby.

  Not now.

  Sleep would have been useful, Reinar thought as he stood before Valera’s Tree, leaves rustling loudly overhead. That sound had given him nightmares as a child; lying in bed, listening to the wind racing through the branches, scratching them together; imagining shadow spirits creeping through the fort, into the hall, waiting outside his door.

  During the day, the tree was a place to hide and explore, a place to seek guidance and ask questions. Some believed that Valera herself came to the ancient tree to help those in need. She was both the Goddess of Fertility and the Goddess of Love. Her favour and wisdom were always in great demand, even by the Lord of Ottby himself.

  Reinar held a hand to the trunk, placing it flat against the rough bark, wanting to feel some sense of certainty, some clarity about what lay ahead, though he felt nothing but the cold wind trying to tear his cloak off him.

  He froze, hand quickly off the tree, moving to his sword, head spinning. The leaves rustled loudly, covering any noise, but Reinar was sure he’d heard something.

  And then a shadow moving.

  Stepping around the tree, Reinar cut it off.

  Torvig felt his heart lurch up into his mouth.

  Reinar had seen Torvig heading for his cottage hours ago, yet here he was, fully dressed. ‘What are you doing?’

  Torvig peered down at Reinar’s hand, still on the hilt of his sword. ‘You looking to start the battle now?’ he grinned, trying to steady his breathing. He had dragged Stina back to her cottage after he’d finished with her. And he was glad he had, or else he might be having a very different conversation with Reinar now.

  Reinar moved his hand away, letting his cloak fall over his sword. ‘Not quite, but it pays to be careful after what’s been happening lately.’

  Torvig nodded. ‘It does, though I think being lord of this fortress, you could find someone else to keep watch. Or is this what you do every night, and I just didn’t know it?’

  Reinar shook his head. ‘Not every night, no. But without Elin here, there’s less reason to stay in bed, I suppose.’

  Torvig stared at him. ‘She’ll be back. I know it. I feel it.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Of course.’ Torvig’s confidence lifted, and he encouraged Reinar back to the hall. ‘She loved you the moment she saw yo
u. Couldn’t stop telling our mother about how she was going to marry you one day. I remember that.’

  Reinar liked to hear stories about Elin. He remained silent, encouraging Torvig to continue, which he did, knowing that the more he filled the silence, the less opportunity there was for Reinar to ask where he’d been.

  ‘Something happened to her after the loss of the babies. You know that. It wasn’t because of you. She didn’t stop loving you. It was Elin. The heartbreak caused something to go wrong with her head. She made a bad decision. I imagine she knows that better than anyone now.’

  ‘After this is all over, after Hakon comes, and we beat him back, I’d like to try and find her. See if you’re right.’

  ‘Good! We can go together. It may be that I can find her. Or that dreamer of yours can. Not that Elin would be happy to find her here, trying to take you away from her.’ Torvig sensed that Reinar had stopped, and he turned back to him with a grin. ‘Perhaps I’m imagining that, of course. Seems to me the woman’s looking for a way to make herself a new home. A new place. That Ullaberg was nothing, was it? Imagine coming here, finding a handsome lord who’s lost his wife? Imagine the things she’s been planning for herself...’

  Reinar knew what everyone thought of Torvig. He’d thought the same things himself, many times. But he’d always been loyal over the years, often against his better judgement, knowing that he was Elin’s brother; aware of how much she adored him. ‘No need for you to worry about the dreamer, Torvig. She’s useful to me, just as Salma was. Nothing more. She has a home here for as long as she wants it. For as long as I find value in her dreams. And come tomorrow, or the day after, we might both find out how valuable she can be.’ And turning abruptly towards the hall doors, Reinar left Torvig alone in the dark.

  ‘Best sleep I’ve had in years!’ Eddeth declared with a sneeze.

  She sneezed a lot, Alys thought, watching with one eye as Eddeth bustled around the cottage. She was still half asleep, barely seeing any sign of light yet. And closing her one open eye, she lay her head back on the pillow, enjoying the low murmuring sounds Eddeth was making. As long as they remained low and murmuring, she might just be able to fall back to sleep.

  ‘What did you dream of, then?’ Eddeth wondered, peering down at Alys.

  Alys opened her eyes again, jerking away from Eddeth, who had leaned so far over her that their noses were almost touching.

  ‘You have skin like the underbelly of my cat,’ Eddeth breathed. ‘So soft!’ And she ran a hand over Alys’ cheek before turning back to the fire. ‘My mother said I had skin like an old man’s ballsack from the day I was born. No matter what she rubbed on it, it always felt the same!’

  Alys pushed herself upright, shivering. Eddeth appeared to be doing half of everything as she moved around the cottage. The tinderbox was open, the kindling stacked in the fire pit. But she had rushed over to the kitchen area, fussing around her rows of jars, fingering through the baskets of herbs. Then there were the two cats, who had been promised a jug of near-frozen milk, two bowls sitting on the ground, side by side, but Eddeth had forgotten to fill them.

  She spun around, eyeing Alys. ‘Did you have any dreams, then?’

  Alys swung her legs over the side of the bed, unsure.

  And then everything rushed back to her like a crashing wave.

  ‘Yes,’ she breathed, heart thumping in her chest. ‘Yes, I did!’

  Mother had been up before anyone, slipping into Hakon’s tent, urging him to get his men moving before dawn had even broken. She had dreamed of his success. Of a great battle that would burn and break the Vilanders’ fortress for good.

  He needed to march.

  Now!

  Hakon liked his sleep almost as much as Ivan, but he had rushed out of bed and into his armour with speed, emerging from his tent, yawning steward trailing after him, surprised to find Ivan waiting there, fully dressed.

  ‘Are you ready to leave?’

  Hakon shook his head, beaming. ‘Cousin! I knew you wouldn’t let me down. I knew it!’ And taking Ivan in his arms, he patted his armoured back. ‘We’re in this together, you and I. For my father. For our family. We will do this together!’

  Ivan was nodding, but he wasn’t thinking about their family. He was thinking about his reputation, which he would burnish with this victory. About his image, carved into tall saga stones from the North to the South, throughout Alekka and beyond. ‘Of course we will, Hakon. We’ve gotten this far together, haven’t we? We’ll crush those Vilanders together too, I promise. Leave their heads draining from their famous walls!’

  It was the perfect start to the day. And as the sun rose, Hakon’s optimism rose with it. There wasn’t even a hint of a cloud in the sky. No snow in the air.

  Nothing standing in their way.

  Mother waddled past on her way to the wagon, Falla and the little girl following after her like miserable ducklings. Lief walked beside Falla, kissing her goodbye. Ulrick stood to one side, watching the old woman, wondering what sort of a problem she was going to become.

  ‘You should be on your horses!’ Mother bellowed. ‘All of you! We must make haste. Now!’

  Hakon wondered what the hurry was, but he wasn’t about to argue with Mother.

  If she saw victory on the horizon, he wasn’t going to argue at all.

  Eddeth plonked herself down on the bed, nose twitching. ‘What? What did you see?’

  Alys wasn’t sure. It was no simple image but a mess of many. ‘I saw fire. I heard screams. Bodies. A lot of bodies. Panic.’

  ‘Here?’

  Alys nodded. ‘It was as though the sky itself was in flames.’

  ‘As though the gods were at war!’

  ‘Well, more likely catapults and arrows, I imagine,’ Alys said gently.

  But Eddeth was already taking Alys’ words and weaving them into a more elaborate tale. ‘And death?’

  ‘Yes, death. But I...’ Alys closed her eyes, trying to see anything else.

  Tulia. She saw Tulia.

  ‘Yes?’

  Alys shook her head, feeling a cold certainty grip her body. ‘They will be here today.’ And standing up quickly, she stared down at Eddeth, blinking. ‘They will be here today!’

  38

  Jonas and Vik turned inland.

  Magnus kept riding in between them on Daisy, not really conscious of anything until he realised that they were starting to climb. He felt Daisy straining beneath him, her stubby legs working hard. The landscape was becoming more mountainous again. There were fewer trees to see now, the forests falling away beneath them. ‘When will we get to Slussfall?’ He could see the sun rising above the sweeping mountains in the distance, and squinting, he turned to his great-grandfather, impatience in his eyes.

  ‘Well, days is unfortunately the closest answer, Magnus. I’m not sure. We may not be aiming for Slussfall at all. It depends on where we come across them. Those men who took Lotta were ill. We may be able to catch them before they get anywhere near that fortress.’ Jonas leaned forward, patting his new horse, still surprised that it was not his old horse. His grief for Klippr continued to burn like a hot flame.

  Magnus nodded, but he felt concerned.

  Vik pushed ahead as the path narrowed, trees shrinking in on either side of them, making a frosty tunnel.

  ‘What is it?’ Jonas wondered. ‘Something’s gnawing away at you over there.’

  Magnus didn’t know his great-grandfather as well as he wished. He felt safe with him, happy to be with him, but worried about him. ‘The men who took us... they are... younger than you.’

  Jonas burst out laughing, surprising Vik, who turned around, eyebrows raised.

  ‘My grandson, here, is worried that we’re too old for the job! That these men will tear us to pieces!’

  Magnus’ pink cheeks flushed a deep red. ‘Well, I...’ He heard Vik laughing too.

  ‘Perhaps your mother never told you about me? About my friend, Vik? About who we used to be?’

&nb
sp; ‘She did.’

  Jonas was surprised, his face blank. ‘Oh. So you know we’re warriors with reputations around these parts? We’re two of Ake Bluefinn’s men, the both of us. We stood beside him against the Vettels for years. Crushed those bastards with our own swords. Gave our blood to save our country from tyranny. And yet you don’t think we can handle two poorly thieves?’

  ‘Leave the boy alone, Jonas!’ Vik called out, turning back around. ‘All he can see are a couple of greybeards, creaking and farting around. Who could blame him for thinking our reputations are all we’ve got left, dust-covered as they are!’

  Jonas smiled at Magnus. ‘He’s right, I suppose.’ It was hard to admit, because he didn’t feel old in his mind, and he never wanted to believe that a day would come when he couldn’t be effective with a sword. Though he thought back to Akaby, and how relieved he’d felt when Vik had shown up.

  The path widened, and Vik slipped back to join them. He was a man of fewer than few words, but he spoke when he felt there was something to say. ‘Your grandfather and I will kill these men, Magnus. For what they did, taking you and selling you like that. For taking your sister away. We’ll kill them both. Quickly too. You needn’t worry about that.’

  Magnus nodded, hearing the certainty in Vik’s voice. And he turned to Jonas, who smiled at him.

  ‘And then we’ll go and find your mother!’

  Reinar felt impatient, but he didn’t want Alys to reveal her dreams in the hall. His mother was flapping about like an angry goose, and he wanted to avoid sending her off again. So he took Alys to his chamber, Torvig’s voice still ringing in his ears.

  He motioned for her to take a seat by the blazing fire, not wanting to sit himself. ‘What have you seen?’