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

by A. E. Rayne

  He needed to check the hall.

  He needed to...

  Bjarni put a hand on his arm. ‘Reinar!’

  Reinar turned to him. ‘How’s Agnette?’

  ‘Still going!’ Bjarni swallowed, happy, worried, relieved. ‘She’s still going. Eddeth’s back with her now, so hopefully, the baby will come soon.’

  ‘Go! Be with her!’ Reinar urged, eyes on Tulia, who had left the guard tower, guiding the men who were carrying her brother’s body out into the square. He looked away, wanting to see some more familiar faces. ‘Bolli!’ He let out another sigh of relief, though the old helmsman stared at him through a bloody face mask, stumbling slightly. ‘Are you alright?’

  Bolli grunted, barely hearing him as he headed for the hall. ‘Head wounds. Always bleed like a bitch!’

  Reinar nodded, ears ringing louder as his own wounds took hold. ‘Let’s get the bodies lined up beneath the tree. Pyres will come, but not yet. Not yet.’ His eyes were on the hall doors which were being wedged open now, watching as Alys stepped outside.

  He shivered, holding his breath as the noise exploded, sweeping around them, knowing that the king was getting closer.

  Alys held his gaze for a moment, and Reinar couldn’t move.

  And then Torvig jumped in between them. ‘Come on!’ he called, patting Reinar’s good shoulder. ‘Ake’s here! Come on!’ And striding past him, Torvig headed for the gates.

  Reinar blinked, looking back at the hall doors, but Alys had gone.

  Fury turned to panic as Hakon stood in the tent where the old woman lay.

  Dead.

  He didn’t know how it was possible.

  The loss of Mother grabbed hold of him. It would not let him go. He didn’t mourn her, he mourned his ambitions, his fading hopes of vengeance for his father’s murder. For his own ascent to the throne.

  Ivan was behind him. ‘If we don’t leave...’

  Hakon barely heard him. The wind howled around the tent, sides flapping like sails, and he thought of the wolf. And the threat. And the promise.

  All of it gone.

  Hands, bloody and charred, fell by his sides, head slumping forward.

  ‘Useless old bitch.’

  He felt like a boy who’d been beaten by a man.

  ‘Hakon, I will knock you out and throw you over your horse!’ Ivan shouted, barely able to stand. The tent stunk of smoke and herbs and a dead old woman who he would’ve been overjoyed to see the end of if they didn’t have Ake Bluefinn and his army and a blizzard descending upon them.

  Lief popped his head into the tent. ‘We have to go!’ he demanded. ‘We have to get the men moving, my lord!’

  Ivan didn’t need Lief Gundersen to tell them that, but he nodded, flapping a hand at him. ‘Take your wife. Take the men. Make a start, we’ll follow shortly.’

  Lief felt relieved as he ducked out of the tent, hurrying to Falla, who was already mounted on her horse, waiting beside his, hood up, mittened hands clasping the reins.

  She spun around, fear in her eyes. ‘We have to hurry!’

  Lief tried to remove the urgency from his voice before he spoke. ‘They won’t give chase. They won’t.’ He wasn’t certain about that, but getting moving quickly would give them a better chance of escaping.

  Falla stared at her husband, who was dour and dull, not handsome at all, and she felt a surge of need for him. His arms were strong and powerful, and she wanted them to keep her safe; her and her unborn child and her son. Nodding, she kept her mouth closed, turning back around, waiting as Lief mounted his horse.

  ‘We march for Slussfall!’ Lief cried as Hakon and Ivan emerged from Mother’s tent. ‘A quick march till sunset! It will be hard, but we must get to safety!’

  All around their camp, servants were rushing to collect what they could before all the horses left. There would be no horses for them, but saddlebags could store food and waterskins, so they worked with purpose and urgency to ensure they took as much as possible, hoping not to be left behind.

  ‘Come on!’ Ivan called. ‘There’ll be another day! We have this warning. It’s a sign from the gods. They didn’t want to see you defeated. They want you alive, to fight again. It’s a sign!’ Hakon appeared in a daze. In shock. Ivan saw the blood soaking through his mail; his cousin’s slumped stance. ‘I’ll get you to your horse. We’ll fix you up tonight, don’t worry. We can hold something over that in the meantime.’

  Hakon let himself be led away like a child, wanting to believe that Ivan was right. That the gods would unite behind him, return him to this very place, make him the king he was born to be. They had to. He had to avenge his father’s death, so he could be proud of him for once.

  And dropping his head, the sting of his wounds taking hold, Hakon traipsed towards his horse, listening to the thunder of hooves as his men sped away from their camp.

  By the time Ake arrived inside the square, there was almost room for him to stand. He dismounted his grey stallion with a stern look, eyes on the broken fort, now sprinkled with blustery snow.

  Resettling his enormous fur cloak, he took off his helmet, handing it to his steward, who had hastily dismounted, grabbing both the helmet and the reins of Ake’s precious horse, Frey. ‘You’ve been busy,’ Ake grinned, looking at the state of Reinar and Sigurd, who stood before the hall, flanked by the men and women who had survived.

  Who had helped them survive and save the fort.

  ‘That we have, lord.’ Reinar ducked his head, looking up to see Ake smile.

  ‘And where’s that sod of a father of yours? Sitting around while you do all his work? If only I had sons your age, I could sit in my warm hall and not ride about the country, freezing my balls!’ He chuckled, masking his sadness. ‘Come on, let’s not stand about. Get your old king to a fire, boys!’ And he turned after the Vilander brothers, one hand on Sigurd’s shoulder, one on Reinar’s. ‘Still bigger than you. Good to see!’

  And it was true, Sigurd realised, relief flooding his body; worry too. He wanted to escape and find Tulia. He needed someone to stitch him up – they all did – but for now, they needed to see to the king who had come to save them.

  And just in time.

  Gerda burst into tears at the sight of Ake striding into the hall, flurries of snow blowing in with him. She rushed towards him, throwing open her arms. ‘Thank you!’ she exclaimed. ‘Oh, thank you!’

  Ake had never enjoyed Gerda’s company as much as Stellan had, though she had been a loyal Lady of Ottby, a hospitable host, and a good wife to Stellan over the years and her gratitude made him smile. ‘Me? I think your sons had everything under control, Gerda. Stellan trained them well.’ He looked for his old friend, who sat in his wheelchair, slumped to one side, a mere shadow of the warrior he had once been. But Ake saw a glimmer of light in his eyes, and he took a seat beside him. ‘You would’ve been proud,’ he smiled, taking Stellan’s cold hand in his, lowering his voice so the hushed hall wouldn’t hear his words. ‘Proud of what your boys accomplished out there. They held on longer than I thought they could. And the bridge is safe.’ He turned around, pointing at Reinar. ‘The bridge is safe!’

  A cheer went up around the hall, and Ake grinned, turning back to Stellan, squeezing his hand. ‘The bridge is safe, and so is Ottby, and we live to fight another day.’ He touched Stellan’s face, trying not to feel sad, but it was hard. This man had been his fiercest warrior. A beast in battle. His mightiest.

  ‘Ake,’ Stellan croaked, tears in his eyes. ‘Ake.’

  Reinar watched, tears in his own eyes, feeling his brother’s hand on his back.

  Alys could hear the cheers from the hall, though she felt worried. Agnette was struggling, ashen-faced, barely able to open her eyes. She had not slept, and her body was weak. The baby was proving to be as stubborn as she was, according to Bjarni, who looked just as worried as he stood beside her, jiggling anxiously.

  Eddeth hopped around the chamber with light feet, bare and dirty, energy coursing through her body as
she contemplated what to do next. ‘Agnette!’ Spinning around, she brought her knife up to Agnette’s face. ‘I’m going to have to cut you open!’

  ‘What?’ Bjarni looked horrified. ‘No!’

  Eddeth ignored him, sneezing. She brandished the knife just beneath Agnette’s chin where the flames from the lamp caught it, reflecting the shine of the blade in Agnette’s tired eyes.

  ‘But the baby?’

  ‘Well, it’s a risk, yes,’ Eddeth said gravely. ‘Though I have little choice. You have no strength left, it seems. If you cannot push the child out, either she will die, or you’ll both die. This way I’ve a chance of saving one of you. Possibly both.’ She peered into Agnette’s weary eyes for a moment before spinning away to hold the blade to the flames.

  ‘Alys,’ Agnette breathed. ‘What do you see?’

  Alys froze, not knowing what to say, but Eddeth eyed her sternly, hoping upon hope that the dreamer could read her thoughts. ‘I... your baby is in danger, Agnette, I see that. What Eddeth wants to do...’ Alys shrugged. ‘I’m not sure what will happen. You must listen to her.’

  Panicking, Agnette gripped Bjarni’s hand. ‘Let me push, Eddeth! Please. Let me try one more time!’

  Eddeth winked at Alys, turning around, knife already sheathed. ‘Well, if you think you have one more push left in you?’

  Agnette nodded, her tired eyes suddenly sharp with focus as she squeezed Bjarni’s hand. ‘Yes. Yes.’

  ‘Good, then let’s see what we can do! Alys, you get on Agnette’s other side. She’s going to need someone else to hold on to.’ Eddeth squinted as she bent down. ‘Wait for me, Agnette, and then start pushing. Believe in your heart that you can save your child and push with all you have, for if not, I will cut you open!’ Threat expertly delivered, Eddeth glanced at Bjarni and Alys, before checking on the position of the baby, waiting, watching. And briefly popping up her head, she shouted at Agnette. ‘Now, push!’

  Leaving Ake in the hall with Reinar and their parents, Sigurd disappeared to find Tulia, who was helping to move the injured into a barn. Servants waited there with bandages and salves, thread and needles. The sound and the smell swirled around the fort with the snow, and Sigurd was struggling to get Tulia’s attention.

  Eventually, he reached her, touching her shoulder, and she spun towards him with hate in her eyes. Pain too, though that was buried deep and Sigurd only saw fire.

  ‘Come to help, have you?’

  Sigurd blinked, seeing the blood leaking from the arrows still lodged in her right arm. ‘You need someone to cut them out. I can, if you like?’

  ‘They don’t bother me. Others need help, can’t you see?’ Tulia didn’t want to pull the arrows out. Her body was numb now. The snow had a way of freezing everything, even her heart. She didn’t want to feel anything. Not yet.

  Sigurd nodded. ‘I’ll stay. I can help. Reinar’s with Ake, though I’m sure he’ll be out soon. Ake looks ready to eat.’

  Tulia didn’t care. She turned towards Ludo, who was trying his best to hold down a screaming man while Stina worked to sew up his belly. ‘You want me to be alright, do you, Sigurd? Is that what you want?’ Her voice was a hiss, heartbroken and angry. ‘When I swore to protect my brother, and I sacrificed him for you? For you? I should have gone. Taken Amir and gone!’ Biting her teeth together, Tulia shook her head. ‘Stay away from me, Sigurd Vilander. I’ll be leaving. When I’ve helped these people, your people, burn their dead, I’ll be leaving for my home.’

  Though the noise of the hall seemed to be getting louder, there was no mistaking the explosive first cry of Agnette and Bjarni’s newborn daughter from down the corridor.

  Reinar winked at his mother, who hurried away to see the child, relief flooding his body.

  ‘And now a baby,’ Ake smiled. ‘A lucky day to be born. A famous one in Ottby’s history.’

  Reinar nodded, wanting to get back outside, though he couldn’t move the left side of his body and that would make it hard to be of much use. Still, his mouth worked, and so did his legs, and he stood, teeth gritted, left arm hanging by his side. ‘I want to check on my people. Take care of my men. And women,’ he said, eyes on Ilene, who had her head in her hands, being comforted by Jorunn.

  ‘Women?’ Ake looked surprised. ‘You had women fighting?’ He stood, one eye on Reinar’s awkward stance. ‘Looks like you’ve dislocated your shoulder. I can help you with that.’

  Reinar wasn’t sure he wanted Ake’s help. The king was as big as a bear.

  ‘I’ve done it twice. It’s going to hurt, though. You might pass out.’

  Reinar frowned, looking to back away. ‘Perhaps later, I...’

  But Ake wasn’t listening, and he grabbed Reinar’s left wrist, one hand on his chest as he pulled Reinar’s arm straight out in front of him, gently at first, then more firmly, listening, waiting to hear the clunk of the shoulder joint popping back in place.

  Reinar’s yelp was quickly replaced with a gasp, and he stumbled, head spinning, certain he was about to embarrass himself. He stuck out his right hand, gripping the table.

  ‘Give yourself a moment, then meet me outside. We can talk about how things stand and what we’re going to have to do now.’ His smile was quickly gone. ‘We’re in for a hard battle ahead, Reinar. I’m going to need you by my side. You and your brother both.’

  Reinar nodded, watching Ake go, trying to straighten up.

  ‘You need strapping!’ Eddeth boomed behind him, and Reinar jerked around with another yelp. ‘That shoulder needs to be in a sling.’ And bending down to her tunic, Eddeth prepared to tear off a strip.

  ‘No, no,’ Reinar insisted. ‘Save your tunic, Eddeth. I don’t have time. I have to go with the king.’

  Eddeth looked nonplussed. ‘Well, perhaps Alys can do it for you when you return?’ And trying not to smile, but failing terribly, she nudged Alys towards Reinar, before slipping away to find a bench and a cup of ale.

  ‘We have to talk,’ Reinar said when Eddeth had left, ‘about what you did. I don’t know all of it, but I know you saved us from that dreamer.’

  Alys felt odd. Displaced. Her thoughts floated around her like clouds. ‘I killed her raven. And then I killed her.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘Yes, I did. And now I must leave.’

  ‘What? Now?’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ Alys said. ‘I have somewhere to be. Somewhere to go.’

  Reinar tried not to look disappointed. ‘But...’

  ‘You promised if I saved your fort, if I helped you stop Hakon Vettel, that you’d free me. And I did. Now I’m finished, Reinar, and I must go.’ Alys didn’t want to say it. And yet she did. Because Lotta and Magnus were out there somewhere, and she had to find them quickly. Her grandfather too. ‘Eddeth will come with me. She wants to. She will return, don’t worry, but I need her help.’

  ‘For what?’

  Alys stared at him, realising that there was no point hiding anymore. She trusted Reinar. For all that he had done to steal her away from her children and her home, he had also rid her of her cruel husband and helped her to realise her gifts.

  Her strength.

  ‘I need to find my children.’

  Reinar’s mouth hung open. ‘You had... children? When we took you? You had children?’ He saw the pain in her eyes, and he felt the guilt in his heart cut him deep. ‘Where are they?’

  ‘I don’t know. They were taken by some men, but I can find them, and I will, with Eddeth’s help.’

  Reinar didn’t know what to say.

  ‘I must go and see what I can do. There are many injured out there. But in the morning, I will leave.’

  ‘I can send men with you. To protect you on your journey.’

  Alys shook her head. ‘No, Reinar, please. I don’t want them. I don’t. I don’t need them. Just Eddeth and her herbs and her drum. Stina too.’ She smiled sadly, memories of the chanting and the drumming and the smoke surging back.

  ‘Well, I won’t argue, I can’t, b
ut you’ll take whatever supplies you need. The weather won’t be kind.’

  ‘No, I imagine it won’t, but my children are out in it, so I must hurry.’

  Reinar couldn’t shake the thought that he’d taken Alys away from her children. ‘How old are they?’

  ‘Magnus is ten.’ Alys tried to stop herself crying, but the tears came quickly. She couldn’t hold them back. ‘Lotta is eight.’

  Reinar touched her arm. ‘I’m sorry, Alys. I’m so sorry.’

  She swallowed, looking away, rubbing her eyes. ‘I forgive you, I do. And I’m grateful to you. I have a different life now, and I won’t go back. I just need to find Magnus and Lotta.’ She looked up at Reinar, trying not to feel anything at all. ‘I hope you...’ She stopped, tears in her eyes, unable to see. Unable to go on.

  And dropping her head, Alys headed past him, pushing her way towards the open doors.

  51

  The snow died away, nothing settling, and as night fell, the fort began to return to normal. Apart from the piles of dead bodies, the broken gates, the damaged walls, the smashed catapults, and the charred remains of the cottages that had been set on fire.

  Both Reinar and Sigurd had returned to the hall to be strapped up and stitched up and generally put back together, and seeing that Ake was making himself at home with Stellan and Bolli and the crackling fire, they decided to join him, if only to grab a quick bite to eat and take a moment to thaw out their freezing limbs.

  ‘This trouble that’s coming sounds bad,’ Bolli said, crunching into a boiled chestnut.