by A. E. Rayne
Bayla strode past them, ignoring her own tears, wanting to get inside. The smell of vomit and seawater clung to her, and she was desperate for a goblet of wine.
Wine in a goblet!
She almost fell down at the thought of it.
Ulf stood by Hanna who felt like turning around and hopping back on the ship. She didn’t want to be in Hest, though she was working hard not to feel anything at all. She would just put one foot after the other. Concentrate on caring for the children. Not think. Not feel. Just be useful.
Bayla spun around, nose in the air, eyes sweeping her dishevelled-looking family. ‘Well? Aren’t you coming?’ The children ran past her and Berard ushered Amma and Hanna forward, but Ulf didn’t move.
He stared at her before looking down at his wet boots and the ragged trousers he’d worn for more years than he could remember.
Then he turned back to the ship.
Bayla pushed back her shoulders and strode after him. ‘You aren’t coming?’ Her eyes were sharp, searching his face as it turned towards hers. A face that with a good scrub and some time spent with a comb would not be a bad face to look at.
Ulf squirmed. ‘In there?’ He pointed to the castle. ‘With you?’
Bayla swung back to stare at the castle, almost seeing Haaron bellowing from the steps at their four sons, barking at slaves and glowering at her. She had loved him once, but they had not been happy.
And life, Bayla had discovered, was short.
Too short to waste any time.
‘Yes. With me.’ She bit her lip, which quivered. ‘Why not? The children like you well enough. Berard too. And I’m sure Karsten could use a man like you when he returns.’
Ulf frowned, his boots stuck to the cobblestones. ‘And you?’ he mumbled. ‘What about you?’
‘Me?’ Bayla froze, tears in her eyes. ‘I’m sure I could find some use for you.’ And she reached out, touching his hand.
Ulf grabbed it and didn’t let go, even as he could feel Bayla start to pull away. He squeezed it tightly and stepped forward, slipping it through his arm as he headed for the castle beside her, shaking his head.
Despite the unexpected pleasure of having the Dragos’ in the castle, Amma missed Andala, and she was desperate to see Axl again.
She needed to go home.
Berard could tell, and leaving Bayla to bark at the servants and the children to show Hanna and Ulf around, he took her for a walk.
‘I still don’t understand,’ Amma cried as they headed past the stables, listening as he told her the story of what had happened in the vale. ‘How could Eydis have disappeared like that? How?’
‘I don’t know. But Edela said that it was meant to be. That it was her purpose. And Eydis was very determined. Very stubborn. I can’t think she’d feel sad.’
‘No, she loved Eadmund more than anything.’ Amma thought of Aleksander who had loved Jael more than anything too. Andala would not be the same without him. Nor would Axl. Aleksander had always been a big brother to him.
She felt sad and lost as she walked beside Berard, not noticing that his head was up, listening.
The sound was like a storm approaching, and Berard frowned, his eyes drifting to the clouds, which were dull and grey but did not appear to portend a storm. And then he realised that it did not sound like a storm at all, but the thundering of horses coming down the road.
Amma froze, holding her hands to her mouth.
The first horse carried Karsten Dragos. Amma recognised his eye patch, and though her hopes lifted, she did not dare give in to them until she saw that Axl was riding just behind him.
Axl.
Axl was there.
Axl was here!
And running towards him as he slid from his horse, limping and hobbling towards her, she launched herself into his arms.
‘Amma!’ Axl was trying not to squeeze her, though he very much wanted to. ‘Amma!’
She pulled away, looking him over. ‘Are you hurt? Are you injured?’
He shook his head, his eyes moving from her face to her bump. He could see it. And then he could see her fear as she backed away. ‘He’s dead,’ Axl said quickly. ‘Jael killed him. He’s dead. Jaeger’s dead.’
Amma shuddered, unable to look at him, remembering the feel of Jaeger’s rough hands, his tongue in her mouth, the pain of what he had done to her. More tears ran down her cheeks. ‘I’m sorry!’ she cried. ‘I’m so sorry!’
‘For what?’ Axl was incredulous. ‘For being raped?’ He tilted her chin, wanting to make her focus on him. ‘Never apologise for what he did to you. Never.’
Amma lifted her eyes, staring into his. ‘But the baby?’
‘Is mine.’ Axl said it without even thinking, but he meant it. ‘He’s mine. A Furyck. Isn’t that right, Karsten?’
Karsten had been unable to stop staring at the castle in the distance, knowing that there was no father to snarl at him anymore. No Haegen or Irenna, no Jaeger or Nicolene. But there was a dragon throne, and he would sit upon it and rule the kingdom with Berard. Berard who was standing before him with tears in his eyes. ‘Brother!’ Karsten struggled forward, throwing his arms around him.
‘Are you alright?’ Berard mumbled into his shoulder. ‘You don’t look alright.’
Karsten stepped away, staring at him through his mashed eye. ‘Oh, you think I look bad, you should see Jaeger!’ He grinned, and it hurt. Everything hurt. It felt as though his brother had smashed every bone in his face.
But Berard didn’t hear him because all of his attention was suddenly on Meena, who was struggling down from her little round pony.
She stumbled nervously, righting herself as she peered at him through her wild bush of hair, blinking, tears coming.
And Berard stepped towards her, forgetting all about the arm he didn’t have as he pulled her close. ‘You did it,’ he whispered, feeling her body shudder as she wept on his shoulder. ’You did it, Meena. And now you’re home. With me.’
Meena was surprised by how pleasant it felt to be held by him.
To be comforted.
To be loved.
‘We all did,’ she sniffed, stepping back now, wiping her eyes, worried about how terrible she smelled after all those days on her pony, trekking back from the vale. ‘We all did.’ And she blinked at Karsten, Axl, and Amma before leaning forward again, wanting to feel Berard’s embrace.
And when his arm was around her back, she closed her eyes, sinking into him.
Home.
She was home.
And for the first time in her life, Meena Gallas felt safe.
The scorched valley was an unwelcome surprise. Every blade of grass was brown, every tree like a stick of charcoal marking where the forest had been.
‘It’s going to take some time to put this place back together,’ Eadmund said, his eyes on the gates in the distance.
Jael rode beside him, her chest tightening as they edged closer to the fort.
‘Are you alright?’ Eadmund wondered, peering at her.
It had been a long ride home, though Jael had appreciated the time to think. To grieve. She could see Aleksander’s pyre in her mind, remembering the feeling of letting him go, though she doubted she ever truly would.
Part of her heart would always belong to him. And she knew him.
He would never leave her.
Jael nodded. ‘I’m not looking forward to seeing everyone.’
‘You’re not?’ Eadmund was surprised, though he felt much the same. It was hard to return with such enormous losses.
The Brekkans had suffered badly, losing nearly a third of their army. The Islanders and Alekkans had fared better, as had the Iskavallans. They had lost many of their archers, but not their king, who despite being riddled with holes had survived his first battle. Raymon had been too weak to even sit up when they’d departed the vale, though, and he was returning to his wife in a wagon.
Jael sighed, remembering the enormous pyres they had built.
The smell
of all those burning bodies.
She blinked as Ido and Vella raced down the path, flustering Tig, who skittered around irritably, Biddy chasing after them.
‘Come back, you horrible creatures!’ she yelled, her eyes on Jael and Eadmund, riding together, side by side. And she burst into tears as Jael slid off Tig and took her in her arms.
‘Hello, Biddy,’ Jael smiled over her shaking head.
‘Oh, Jael,’ Biddy sobbed, squeezing her tightly. ‘My girl!’ She could barely see Eadmund through her tears as he struggled down from his own saddle.
‘Hello, Biddy,’ he said quietly, not sure if anyone would want to see him again.
‘Eadmund!’ And releasing Jael, Biddy pulled him into her arms, her face breaking into a smile. ‘You’re back!’ She thought of Eydis then and how much she had wanted to save her brother, and her tears fell even harder. ‘Eydis would be so happy about that.’
More people emerged through the gates, and Jael froze, seeing Gant.
He froze too, watching her, trying to pull himself together. He’d had days to pull himself together, but Aleksander’s death had hit him hard, and he was struggling to see the light.
Jael walked forward, and Gant stopped, waiting for her, and as she leaned towards him, he wrapped his arms around her.
‘I’m sorry,’ she cried into his shoulder. ‘I couldn’t bring him back.’
Gant hung onto her. ‘He wasn’t made to be without you, Jael, I know that. He saved you as he always wanted to. And now he’s free.’ It was true, Gant realised, remembering that ten-year-old boy who had watched his mother kill herself. Who had been given a bleeding, terrified Jael to look after that very night. And he had. For the rest of his life, he had. ‘Now he’s free.’
Jael hoped he was right. ‘You’re not staying behind again,’ she mumbled. ‘Understood? You’re not staying behind again.’
‘Understood,’ Gant promised. ‘I won’t.’
Isaura ran past them. ‘Thorgils! Thorgils!’
And groaning as he hopped down to the ground, Thorgils grabbed her, almost throwing her in the air with joy.
‘You came back!’ she cried. ‘Edela said you were coming, but I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t going to stop myself thinking the worst till I felt you myself!’
Thorgils could smell her, and she smelled like sausages. ‘I’m starving,’ he grinned, sniffing her hair, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. ‘I hope there’s something to eat!’ He saw Mads running towards them with his sisters, and his smile vanished, thinking about Ivaar.
They started walking into the fort, eager to get inside before too many people came out; wanting to rub down the horses, to get some food into their empty bellies. It had been eight long days of riding and marching back from the vale, and the idea of a bench and a cup of ale had spurred them on through the last few days.
That and the chance to see their families again.
Bram was waiting on the hall steps with Gisila, eyes scanning the returning warriors. Seeing him, Fyn dropped his horse’s reins, hurrying forward.
‘Fyn!’ Bram’s smile was hidden beneath his bushy beard, but it was wider than it had been in years. And bringing his son into his arms, he clapped him on the back. ‘You’re in one piece, then? Still standing?’
Fyn nodded, lips wobbling, trying not to cry. Trying not to but failing miserably. ‘Eydis,’ was all he could say.
‘I’m sorry,’ Bram said, stepping back. ‘But she was so brave.’
‘I... she... yes.’ Fyn couldn’t say any more, and seeing that, Bram took him in his arms again.
‘Come on, why don’t we sort out your horse, then you can tell me all about it over a cup of ale.’ He saw Thorgils, and he winked at him. ‘Before Thorgils gets there and drains the lot!’
‘Where’s Axl?’ Gisila’s eyes were frantic as she looked at Jael. ‘Where’s Axl?’
‘Gone to Hest,’ Jael said, feeling odd. ‘To get Amma.’
Gisila’s relief changed her face and relaxed her shoulders, and she smiled at her daughter, tears in her eyes. ‘I was so worried,’ she cried. ‘So sad. Poor Aleksander. Oh...’ And shaking her head, she held out her hands to Jael. ‘I was his mother, you know. I was. For longer than Fianna. Eighteen years he was mine to care for. I can’t believe he’s gone.’
Grief was like the sun, Jael realised. You could never escape it.
It kept rising, no matter how many times you thought it had gone away.
Pulling herself out of her mother’s embrace, she spun around and threw her arms around her grandmother.
Edela smiled through her tears. ‘My, how big you’ve grown, Jael Furyck!’
‘And my, how you’ve shrunk, old woman!’
‘I may be old,’ Edela winked, looking her over, ‘but I’m not dead yet.’
Slipping an arm around her shoulder, Jael walked her towards the hall. ‘I need something to drink,’ she said. ‘It’s been hot. Dry. Sad. And I’m glad we’re back.’
‘Not just back,’ Edela reminded her, ‘but victorious.’ She stopped and turned to her granddaughter, her eyes on Eadmund who was approaching with Biddy. ‘You saved us. You and Eadmund. Aleksander and Eydis. Daala. Dara. All of you. Never forget that. The sun is out, and we are all still here, a little scorched and hungry, but still here, because of you, Jael Furyck.’
Jael turned back to Eadmund, watching Gisila embrace him, remembering that day in the hall when Lothar had sneered at her from his throne, gleefully announcing her impending marriage, that smug smile on his bloated face.
That day she had wanted to run.
Or had she?
It wasn’t only Edela who had seen Eadmund in her dreams.
Jael frowned as her husband walked towards her.
It wasn’t only Edela who had known that he would come.
That he would be hers. That one day they would be bathed in golden light.
She blinked, remembering Eydis.
‘I’ll go and rub Tig down if you like,’ Eadmund offered. ‘Fyn’s a bit busy.’
Jael grabbed his hand. ‘I love you,’ she said quickly.
‘What?’ He almost hadn’t heard her with all the noise as more people rushed out of the hall, across the square, welcoming home the visitors, grieving for those who hadn’t returned.
‘You’re going to make me say it again?’
‘Oh, I think so.’
Jael held her hands up to his face, her eyes seeking his. ‘I love you. And I’m glad you came back, Eadmund Skalleson. I wanted you to.’
‘You did?’ Eadmund’s smile brightened his battered face, and he leaned forward, kissing her. ‘I’m yours, Jael Furyck,’ he whispered, his lips on hers. ‘Always.’
THE END
Three Years Later
‘She seems a bit rusty to me, don’t you think, Fyn?’ Thorgils called, nudging his cousin who stood between him and Bram, all three of them chewing on piping hot meat sticks from Ketil’s as they leaned over the railings of the Pit.
Snow was up to their ankles, and though it wasn’t particularly cold for Oss, everyone could feel that the Freeze was on its way.
‘Shouldn’t you be making more children with your wife?’ Jael grumbled, numb hands wrapped around her wooden sword.
Thorgils laughed, raising an eyebrow at Isaura who was walking towards him with their three-month-old daughter, Elina, tucked inside a fur wrap; Ayla beside her, holding Mads’ mittened hand.
‘More children?’ Isaura snorted. ‘I think we’d have to move into a bigger house if we had any more children!’
Ayla laughed, letting go of Mads, who ran to Thorgils, eager for a boost up onto his shoulders. Thorgils handed his meat stick to Fyn and grabbed the little boy, throwing him up around his neck.
‘Careful!’ Isaura warned. ‘He’s not a cloak!’
Eadmund shut them all out, focusing on his wife, trying to ignore the blood in his mouth from where she’d struck him in the face. If anyone was rusty, it was him, which wasn’t good with
the problems in Alekka. He needed to be sharp, show the leadership his father had hoped was in him.
‘Have you finished?’ Jael wondered, hand on her hip. ‘Anything else you want to fret about over there, King Eadmund?’
‘Being married to a dreamer has its downsides,’ Eadmund muttered under his breath.
Jael laughed. ‘It does, especially one who knows every move you’re going to make before you make it!’
‘Ohhhh!’ Bram laughed, nudging Fyn. ‘Think we might need a drop of ale. What do you think, Thorgils?’
Thorgils was nodding, peeking inside Isaura’s furry bundle, smiling at his tiny daughter with her shock of bright-red hair. ‘I’d say so. Why not hop off and grab us some cups, Cousin?’
Fyn ignored both of them, leaning over the railings. ‘Come on, Jael! Bring him down!’
Jael smiled, glancing at him.
And that was her mistake.
Turning back around, she was too late to see the boot coming for her head.
The boot on Eadmund’s foot, attached to Eadmund’s leg which had just knocked her flying.
No one said a word.
Fyn, Bram, Thorgils and Eadmund’s mouths fell open, all four of them staring at the prone figure lying in the snow.
‘Mama!’ came the plaintive cries, as two children broke free of Biddy’s hold and raced into the ring, Ido and Vella charging after them, quickly sinking into the white powder.
‘Come back! Come back!’ Biddy grumbled, sneezing. ‘Get out of that ring!’
Eadmund shook his head, smiling at the sight of two dogs and two children smothering his moody looking wife.
‘Are you alright, Mama?’ Sigmund asked, worry etched into his little face. ‘What happened?’
Bo was crying, red cheeks and nose, red mittens and hat. Two years old. As fiercesome as her mother. ‘Mama, Mama!’ she sobbed, throwing herself onto Jael.
‘It’s alright, I’m alright,’ Jael muttered, her ears ringing. ‘Your father just got lucky.’ And she scowled at the hand Eadmund was holding out to her.
