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

by A. E. Rayne

  He could hear cracking.

  Screams rising all around him, Sigurd took once last look at Tulia, who was trying to drag Ludo away from the gates, and he lunged forward, jamming his blade between the eyes of the first wolf with such force that he fell onto the dirt.

  Rolling, jumping back to his feet, Sigurd spun around, looking for the wolf, but it was gone. All three of them were. ‘They’re not real!’ Sigurd yelled, trying to make himself heard, coughing. ‘They’re not real!’

  Boom!

  The gates were splintering. Sigurd could hear it as he ran to help Tulia. ‘Stop! The wolves aren’t real!’ Ludo looked around in horror, and Sigurd saw the heavy daze in his eyes. He spun back to Alys and Eddeth. ‘Alys, hurry!’

  Bjarni charged across the square towards Sigurd, having discovered himself, after falling on a wolf, that they were just another trick. Head clearer now, he ran through the smoke up to Ludo and the men who were fighting to pull up the beam and let Hakon Vettel in. Overcome with an urgent need to escape the wolves, they punched and fought with the guards who were responsible for ensuring the gates remained secure. ‘No!’ Bjarni roared. ‘Stop! Please, stop!’

  But it was too late, and in the blink of an eye, the beam was raised and dropped to the ground with a shuddering thump.

  ‘Archers to the wall!’ Sigurd cried, running for the guard tower. ‘Archers to the wall!’

  Running after him, Tulia scooped up as many arrows as she could find as Hakon Vettel’s men started pushing on the gates. But so many of their own men were trying to escape that they had a hard time budging them. Those Ottby men wanted to leave, and quickly. Heads full of mind-altering smoke and hallucinating that wolves were chasing them, they almost clambered over each other in their desperation to get out of the fort.

  Alys’ eyes burst open, and she gripped Eddeth’s hand, looking up at the tree, seeing the glowing symbols.

  Eddeth blinked at her. ‘What happened?’

  But Alys wasn’t listening. She could hear the calm instructions Valera had whispered in her ear, and slicing Eddeth’s knife across her palm, Alys dipped a finger into her blood, shutting out every noise, every fear, picturing her daughter’s face.

  Blood on her finger, Alys stepped towards the tree, tracing the glowing outline of the symbols. As she finished each one, the symbol was extinguished.

  And when the light of the ninth symbol went out, Alys spun around, blinking.

  Eddeth scrambled to her feet, ignoring the menacing wolves, smoke trapped in her throat, the gates shunting open in the distance. Her attention was on Alys, who had stopped abruptly and was glancing around. She could see the chaos in the fort, horror widening her eyes as she realised that both sets of gates had been breached. ‘We must get into the hall!’ Eddeth shrieked, certain that what Alys had tried hadn’t worked. She grabbed her arm, yanking her away from the tree. ‘Quick! We must barricade ourselves in!’

  Mother’s hands twitched.

  Falla didn’t move at first. She sat on the stool, drum on her lap, worried that she was about to vomit.

  And then Mother started gurgling, eyes open, legs thrashing, grabbing her throat.

  Reinar blinked as the wolves disappeared, the panic in the fort stuttering to a stop. Terrorised men and women stood on either side of him, frozen, mouths ajar. The wind was picking up now that both sets of gates were open, rushing through the square, dispersing the smoke with speed. But there was still the problem of Hakon Vettel’s army, which surged into the fort, shields up, spears out, banners flying, pouncing just as everyone had woken from their magical stupors, far from their posts, most without shields to hand.

  Reinar yelled down from the ramparts. ‘Bjarni! Ludo! To the hall! Shield wall! Form in front of the hall!’ He saw Alys running for the hall doors, and he thought of his father and mother. Poor Agnette too. ‘The rest of you to the ramparts!’ He grabbed a shield, stumbling, turning to Sigurd. ‘You’ve got the ramparts! Keep those arrows flying!’ And he ran for the stairs, desperate to get to the front of the shield wall.

  Hakon was fighting his way through his warriors, who were all busy trying to untangle themselves in the courtyard. There was not enough room to get through the gates quickly, though, and their bodies banged together as they tried to fight their way into the square.

  Hakon couldn’t get through.

  Sword swinging, he started carving out a path with little regard for who he hurt, as more and more of Reinar’s men woke up, hearing their lord’s call.

  Ivan wanted to get back to the fort. He felt light-headed and weak, but he wasn’t about to let Lief Gundersen take credit for their victory. He was mounted, back on his horse, the strips of cloth wrapped around his arm and chest, already blood-soaked. But just as he was about to spur his horse into action, he heard a cry from the forest, and turning in the saddle, he could see two men urging their horses on with speed. They flew down the path, out of the trees, clods of mud flinging everywhere, white breath smoke streaming from their horses’ open mouths.

  Alys could hear Bjarni ordering his men to form a shield wall in front of the hall. She turned to Stina, who trembled beside her, eyes on the doors, fearing that soon they would burst open.

  Ludo had sent Stina into the hall when he’d run out of boulders, telling her to help Gerda. That had been before the wolves, before the smoke, and Stina was in the dark about what was happening outside those doors. ‘It doesn’t sound good,’ she muttered.

  Alys tried to see anything, but her mind swirled with strange images, none of which made sense. Her throat ached, and her stomach lurched. The smell of that potent smoke was strong, even in the hall, and she kept tasting the blood from Eddeth’s potion. ‘Hakon Vettel has breached the walls. Both of them.’

  ‘What?’ Gerda was behind her, and she grabbed Alys’ arm. ‘What?’ Spinning around, she saw her husband. ‘Help me,’ she urged. ‘I must take him to his chamber. Please, help me!’ The fear and desperation in Gerda’s tearful eyes moved Alys quickly, and she hurried after Gerda, through the hall, towards where she had parked Stellan at the high table. The chair was heavy, but with a little effort, they spun him in the direction of the corridor.

  ‘No!’ Stellan barked, surprising Gerda, who stopped, running around to face him.

  ‘What?’ She crouched down, eyes wide, not having heard his voice in so long. ‘What is it? Stellan? What is it?’

  ‘You think you can keep me out?’ Hakon barked, stepping around the dead bodies towards Reinar’s shield wall. Behind him more and more men flooded the square, blades clashing as his warriors fought with those Ottby men who had not made it up to the ramparts in time. Arrows flew overhead in both directions, but Hakon wanted a moment to himself, listening as Lief ordered their men into a massive shield wall behind him.

  Hakon wanted a moment to look in Reinar Vilander’s eyes before he tore his life apart, one painful piece at a time. ‘You think you can keep me away from your father?’ The smoke was almost gone, but the sky had darkened further; thick clouds threatening snow enveloping the rising sun. ‘You think you can stop what I’ll do to him?’

  Reinar could sense that Sigurd was already running out of arrows up on the wall. His brother was yelling at the archers, running the drills, but he also appeared to be looking for arrows.

  More of Hakon’s men pushed their way into the square, and Reinar felt a cold hand clench around his heart, not wanting anything to happen to his father; knowing that he’d let him down, that he had lost the fort. But he was never going to surrender to Hakon Vettel, and feeling the weight of his sword in his right hand, Reinar tried to force open his eyes which wanted to close against the pain in his shoulder. ‘You want to die for vengeance, go ahead! I won’t stop you. But you’ll never have my father’s head! I make you that promise now. I’ll rip out your throat before you ever lay a finger on him!’

  ‘Come on!’ Hakon goaded. ‘Fight me, then! Make my dreams come true!’

  Lief was beside Hakon now, and he
tried to get his lord’s attention, knowing that he was about to make a serious mistake. Reinar Vilander was enormous, with a look in his eye that had Lief on edge. Hakon was a skilled warrior, but looking at the Lord of Ottby, Lief doubted he stood a chance.

  Reinar emerged from the shield wall, much to Sigurd’s horror, though he doubted Reinar had any choice if Hakon had called him out. A lord could not hide. Could not ask his men to die for him if he was not prepared to fight for them.

  Hakon could hear the rush of men coming into the fort, the scrape of blades around him, but steadying himself, he let every distraction fade into the background as he stepped towards Reinar, eyes glinting, the memory of his father’s growling voice at his back.

  Hakon looked strong, powerful in his leather tunic, mail shirt hugging his chest, hanging to the top of his thighs. He wore a shining helmet, dented at the top, long cheek pieces covering most of his face, but Reinar could see his strange blue eyes glaring at him, glowing with rage. He remembered how his own father had removed Jesper Vettel’s head, saving Alekka from another attempt on Ake’s throne.

  And now, here was his son, ready to pick up where he’d left off.

  Reinar heard a horn in the distance, but teeth grinding together, he moved forward, crouching slightly, leaning his weight on his right side.

  Lief started pushing his way back through the shield wall, wanting to know where that horn was coming from.

  Hakon’s archers were out of arrows themselves now, and so they stood, eyeing the men on the walls, moving behind the shield men, waiting to see who would emerge victorious as the two lords started circling one another.

  ‘Hakon! Hakon!’ Ivan screamed, fighting to make his way into the fort, but rows and rows of Slussfall men were lining up, trying to get inside, blocking his path.

  He wished he had his own horn to blow.

  ‘What is it?’ Erlan Stari was there, leading his men towards the outer gates. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Ake’s coming.’

  ‘What? But he’s out West. He’s fighting at Ennor! It can’t be Ake.’ Erlan shook his head, shivers running down his spine, glancing around, remembering the sound of the horn.

  Ivan nodded. ‘It’s Ake. My men saw him, with his entire army. Thousands, they said, thousands are coming! We have to retreat before he traps us in this broken fort! We have to retreat now!’

  Hakon nicked Reinar’s arm, having quickly realised that the Lord of Ottby was carrying an injury. He saw the blood caked on his face, the way he was holding his left arm as though it was broken.

  Reinar let him see it all, happy to distract his opponent for a time; letting him think he was weak. His left arm was numb, the pain distant, but his right arm worked fine, and his sword was quickly swinging for Hakon’s head. Hakon stepped back, swaying, just out of reach, surprised by the force of the blow; further surprised when Reinar skipped towards him, repeating the stroke. Hakon stumbled as Reinar came at him again, jabbing his sword at his belly until he toppled backwards, banging into his shield men. They quickly shunted their stunned lord back to his feet.

  Hakon only just got his blade up as Reinar dropped his weight onto his injured side, bringing his sword around with all the power in his right arm. And as Hakon rushed his blade up to parry the strike, Reinar quickly shifted his weight again, dropping his blade underneath, slicing straight across Hakon’s belly.

  Jerking back, Hakon screamed, feeling the cut, relieved to be wearing his mail shirt, which had blunted the blade’s bite, though he could still feel the sting. Angry now, he aimed for Reinar’s left arm, but Reinar turned so the right side of his body was once again facing Hakon, and this time, he stabbed his sword forward like a spear, sword tip piercing Hakon’s mail, his padded leather tunic underneath, and then skin. He shunted hard.

  Hakon roared, aware of a flurry of activity behind him.

  But he was not going to be stopped.

  Not by Lief, not by Reinar. He would kill every last Vilander himself, avenge his father’s murder, and then he would reclaim the throne.

  Ears ringing suddenly as the pain in his belly exploded, Hakon didn’t hear Lief yelling at him. He ducked Reinar’s next strike, backhanding his sword with a show of skill, remembering how hard he had practiced, how hard he had fought to be here. His hand shook, the pain overwhelming, but that smug look on Reinar Vilander’s face made him ignore everything, and grunting, he lunged forward.

  Reinar stepped back, seeing that Hakon was off balance, watching as he stumbled, tipping, barely keeping to his feet. Lief was shouting, calling to him, but ignoring him, Hakon spun, swinging wildly, chasing Reinar now.

  Reinar wanted to kill him. Kill him before he ever set foot in the hall.

  Before he ever touched a hair on his father’s head. And sword in both hands, he stopped moving out of Hakon’s way and charged forward with a roar.

  ‘My lord!’ Lief grabbed Hakon by the collar, yanking him out of Reinar’s path, prepared to suffer his wrath. And dragging him back to their shield wall, he whispered in his ear.

  The Slussfall shields enclosed the two men, spears pointed at Reinar, who retreated behind his own shield wall, joined by Bjarni, shield at his chest, ready to stand with him.

  And then Hakon’s men started retreating, backing up with speed, shields protecting them, spears aimed at their enemy. Reinar looked on in surprise, wondering at the timing of the retreat. They didn’t have the men to stop them, or the arrows to hurt them, so there was little they could do but watch. He glanced up at his brother, who was peering across the field as snow flurries swept across the broken fort, wishing he could lock the gates. They were off their enormous hinges, though, broken in places. They weren’t going to keep anyone out for some time. ‘Shield walls!’ Reinar yelled when the last of Hakon’s men were sucked out of the square. ‘Secure the inner fort!’

  Hakon heard him, spitting, seething, desperate to turn around, but Lief had a firm hold of his lord, and he was urging him out of the fort, towards his horse. ‘We have an army big enough to withstand Ake Bluefinn!’ Hakon roared. ‘And a dreamer! We have a powerful dreamer!’

  Lief wasn’t listening. ‘Get on your horse, Hakon!’ he bellowed, running for his own horse, determined to get back to his wife before it was too late. ‘If you want to live, ride!’ And head bent low, snow blustering around his face, Lief Gundersen mounted his horse, aiming at the forest, certain he could hear that horn again, moaning in the distance.

  50

  Reinar staggered up the stairs, onto the inner wall ramparts, wanting to see what was happening. His left arm felt ready to come off. The ringing in his ears was getting louder. He had to be losing blood from somewhere, he thought distractedly, eyes on Sigurd, who was scanning the field, now littered with abandoned catapults, siege towers and bodies, flames still burning in patches.

  They saw the odd horse pull up as they were spurred towards the forest, landing on nail traps, roaring in pain. But no one was waiting or offering to help. It appeared to be every man for himself.

  Sigurd turned to his brother, seeing his clenched jaw and his awkward stance, knowing he was in significant pain.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Reinar called. ‘Why are they leaving?’ Glancing down into the courtyard, he saw that the last man had gone. ‘Shield wall across the outer gates!’ he bellowed. ‘Secure the fort!’

  ‘Someone’s coming. I’ve heard a horn a few times. It’s getting closer!’

  Tulia had left to be with Amir, who was dead, and she was cradling his head in her lap, the pain of grief trapping her in shock.

  She couldn’t even blink.

  Reinar peered into the distance, wanting to see who was coming, but the sky continued to close in around them, the snow getting heavier. ‘Collect the arrows! Archers on the walls!’ And then the first rider could be seen in the distance, banner flapping from a long spear. He felt his brother rise onto his tiptoes beside him, straining his neck to see who it was. But they were both on the inner wall, too
far away.

  And then they heard the call. ‘Ake! It’s Ake!’

  Sigurd turned to Reinar, shivers running up his arms, mouth wrenched open in surprise.

  Hakon didn’t want to ride anywhere but back to the fort and finish Reinar Vilander. His body throbbed with angry fire, pain searing across his injured belly, blood soaking his tunic, but he’d heard the wail of a horn in the distance, and if Lief was right, they were about to be swallowed by Ake’s full army. After the losses they had suffered on that frosty field, and the depletion of arrows and firepower, he couldn’t risk engaging him. And he couldn’t have kept him out of the fort he had just broken.

  He had no choice but flight.

  And ducking his head against the snow, Hakon screamed, sending his horse after Lief, who was heading for the trees.

  Reinar couldn’t believe it.

  He couldn’t believe the king had come. He could see Ake’s horse banner clearly now. The mounted men leading the column were carrying that banner on their spears. The blue cloth fluttered brightly in the darkening sky, flapping through the snow, matching the blue of their tunics.

  And then Reinar saw a glimpse of Ake Bluefinn himself, wearing his famed plumed helmet, white fur cloak draped across his shoulders, riding just behind the bannermen.

  He shook his head, tears stinging his eyes, shoulders weary, before turning to Sigurd. ‘Go and tell Father. Tell him Ake came.’ He kept shaking his head as he headed away from Sigurd, towards Torvig, who was checking the injured men around him. ‘And Sigurd! Have Gerda bring out the wine!’

  Suddenly the cries of pain became louder than everything else, the cheers of those who were still standing too. And Reinar walked through all the noise, down the stairs and out of the guard tower, into the square. ‘Clear a path!’ he rasped. ‘Clear a path for the king!’ He saw Ludo with tears in his own eyes. ‘Move those catapults back!’ Reinar needed to prepare for the king, but the entire left side of his body felt as though it was about to snap off. His men were dead and injured, scattered around the square. Up on the walls too.