Blood of the Raven: An Epic Fantasy Adventure (The Lords of Alekka Book 3)

by A. E. Rayne

‘But what reason is there? He won’t say!’

  Bjarni remembered what Reinar had told them on the beach, and he wondered if Alys had come to him again. ‘No, but maybe he can’t say for whatever reason. I don’t know, but we have to trust him. Reinar says Sigurd’s in danger, so we have to trust him.’

  Elin frowned, pulling hair out of her mouth, irritably wishing that she’d brought a hat.

  It was something to do with that dreamer, she knew.

  That dreamer had her claws in her husband, and she showed no sign of letting him go.

  Alys watched from the hall steps as Mirella strode away, cloak swirling behind her, one hand holding down her hat.

  Nothing felt real.

  She had longed for her mother as a girl, as a young woman, and as a mother herself, yet now she had her back, she didn’t feel safe, let alone loved and protected.

  ‘Alys.’

  Alys turned away from the unrelenting wind towards her swollen-eyed husband, who was approaching with some trepidation.

  And she sighed.

  There were no good options, yet Arnon was not a dangerous dreamer who wanted to kill the king and destroy Alekka.

  ‘You didn’t tell me about your mother.’

  He sounded hurt, she thought. Defeated.

  It was odd to see.

  ‘I didn’t know about my mother, so there was nothing to tell.’

  Arnon hadn’t slept. He had drunk enough to sleep for a year, though he could find no respite from his rage and sadness. Nothing would fill the great void within him. He wanted to be back in Ullaberg, the four of them in their cottage, all together again. But here they were in Orvala, the frozen North, with a dreamer witch sticking her finger on the scales, tilting them away from his favour.

  He thought of Alari, desperate for that goddess to come into his dreams.

  He needed her help.

  Alys watched him, wondering what he was planning.

  And though Arnon entertained fleeting thoughts of grabbing her hand and pulling her away from the hall, the dreamer’s threats had him watchful. Stepping back, he eyed her silently. ‘You’d better go inside before you freeze to death. The weather’s brutal up here.’

  Alys blinked, sensing that he wasn’t going to try and claim her or touch her or make a fuss, though she held her breath, willing that to be true.

  And eventually, dropping his head, shoulders curling forward, Arnon de Sant walked away, leaving his wife behind.

  Ludo kept turning around, wondering if Sigurd had managed to escape.

  Perhaps he was following them?

  It felt wrong to leave his best friend behind. More than wrong. It hurt his heart. Sigurd was like a brother.

  He didn’t want to abandon him.

  Riding on Ludo’s right, Vik didn’t know what to say. The weather was grim and cold, a stiff breeze chilling them slowly as they rode across the field. They were alert, conscious of being exposed, so far away from the shelter offered by trees, worried about who might be following them. Though, so far, they’d spotted nothing but a few squirrels.

  Eddeth was riding with Jonas and Ollo, Stina behind them with Aldo. The rest of the crew were further back, all of them quietly suffering the wind’s bitter onslaught.

  Eddeth sneezed suddenly, turning around to Vik, eyes bulging. ‘Stop!’ she bellowed.

  Stina bit her lip in surprise, wishing Eddeth wasn’t always so loud.

  ‘What?’ Vik nudged his horse forward. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Someone’s out there!’ Eddeth yelled, then shaking her head, she lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Someone’s coming.’

  Ollo looked disturbed. ‘Who?’

  Eddeth closed her eyes, realising that she had merely blurted out her ominous feelings. She needed to dig back into her vision and find something tangible.

  They watched in silence as Eddeth’s face made all sorts of strange shapes.

  ‘The man who took Lotta!’ she said suddenly, eyes wide again. ‘He’s coming!’

  ‘What? Here?’

  Heads swivelled, scanning the snowy field.

  ‘I don’t know!’

  ‘With Lotta?’

  Eddeth squeezed her eyes shut again, ignoring the inquisitive faces and her own sudden need to piss. ‘He’s leading an army! I see long lines of men on horses. Men marching. Horses and reindeer and oxen!’

  No one spoke.

  Eyes still closed, Eddeth searched for more.

  She could see the man with the long beard riding in silence, concentrating hard, barely nodding at the dark-haired man who rode beside him.

  Ulrick Dyre, Vik had said.

  Ulrick Dyre, Eddeth mused, watching him.

  And then she was in a hall, and a little girl with long blonde hair was screaming at Ulrick to save her. Eddeth blinked, seeing the woman who had hold of the girl’s hand.

  Her face...

  She looked just like Alys.

  Ulrick was speaking. Eddeth tried to listen, wanting to hear what they were saying, though everything was muffled, lost beneath the noise of the crying girl.

  Eddeth could feel her pain. She could feel Ulrick’s too.

  And eyes blinking open, she spun around to Jonas. ‘Who is Mirella?’

  28

  Alys held Lotta in her arms, whispering in her ear.

  They were sitting on the bed, hidden beneath Alys’ black cloak. Alys had decided to put her faith in the cloak, hoping it would keep them safe from Mirella’s prying mind. The idea that the cloak could help her was a feeling that had been growing for days now.

  Alys hoped it would. That it wasn’t just wishful thinking on her part.

  Lotta was in a bad mood because her mother had given Puddle to Magnus, sending him to play in the corner of the chamber. Her brother was rough, certain to be teaching her puppy all the wrong things, and Lotta was impatient to escape from the cloak and her mother’s hold.

  ‘Stop worrying about Magnus,’ Alys scolded, hearing her daughter’s grumbling thoughts, ‘and listen to me. Your grandmother is dangerous.’

  Lotta pulled back, staring up at her mother. ‘I know that!’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Something’s wrong with her. She’s not like other grandmothers.’

  Alys tried not to smile, which was easy as she was terrified and miserable and anxious about keeping them all safe. ‘No, she’s not, so we can’t expect her to care for us like other grandmothers would. We have to stay alert, and remember that she’s watching. Listening. I will get us out of here, Lotta, somehow, but I need your help.’

  Now Lotta drew all her attention away from Magnus, giving it to her mother.

  ‘Magnus said that you’re a very good dreamer, and I know he’s right. You warned me not to come to Slussfall because you wanted to keep me safe. You saw your father coming. You saw what would happen, didn’t you?’

  Lotta nodded, tears in her eyes.

  ‘So I know you can help me find a way out of this. We are two dreamers against one. We can find a way out together.’ And pulling Lotta into her arms again, Alys leaned towards her ear. ‘From now on, we can just read each other’s minds. Say nothing out loud. Not around Mirella, at least.’

  Lotta frowned, not convinced that that was enough, though she knew there was little choice. And nodding, she clung to her mother, knowing that soon, Mirella would come to take her away.

  Mirella had left the hall wanting to speak to Sverri about the garrison. With Tarl taking most of the army with him, he’d left her in charge of the city and Sverri in command of the remaining men. Mirella felt unsettled without Tarl’s presence, looking for Sverri to put her mind at ease, which he quickly did, walking her up to the ramparts, showing her the number of men watching the forest in the distance. He pointed back to the harbour, promising her that it would soon freeze, so there was no chance of invasion from the sea. The western and eastern borders of the city were under constant surveillance, too, men permanently stationed in the two guard towers flanking Orvala.
>
  Everything, Sverri promised her, was secure.

  Eventually, they left the ramparts behind, walking through the city, Sverri waving his arms around, showing the black-cloaked men patrolling every corner, their eyes on the market, on the docks, watching the ship sheds. More were in the hall, guarding the lord’s wife.

  ‘It’s all in hand, Mirella,’ he promised her, looking up, hoping to see that frown ease.

  It didn’t, but Mirella nodded down at him. ‘You’ve done well, but remain alert. Our enemies certainly will be.’ And taking her leave, she turned away, knowing that her biggest problem wasn’t what threatened the city, but what was waiting for her inside the hall. And the thought of seeing her daughter again deepened that frown considerably.

  She spied Arnon de Sant walking down the main street, near the hall, surprised by that. And striding towards the man, she poked a finger at him. ‘You’re not thinking of going to the hall, are you, wife-beater?’ Her voice was a hiss, and her lips curled in distaste, not wanting to say the man’s name.

  Arnon found it almost impossible to stomach Mirella’s disrespect, but knowing that she was a dreamer, he held his tongue, fists clenched by his sides. ‘You can’t stop me being with my children. I’m their father!’

  ‘Well, in fact, I can stop you, and I will.’ Mirella stepped closer, until her breath smoke consumed Arnon’s snively face, considering things.

  Arnon looked at her expectantly, waiting for more, but she turned her head, seeing Solveigh charging down the street in her nightdress. And sighing, Mirella picked up her cloak, hurrying after her.

  Arnon blinked, body humming, suddenly cold all over.

  Jonas didn’t know what to say.

  Eddeth tried to help him out. ‘A woman called Mirella, who happens to look just like Alys, has captured Lotta. That man, Ulrick, took her to Mirella. I think...’ She screwed up her nose, picking her wart. ‘I think she tricked him! He looked shocked. His heart was breaking. So was Lotta’s. I felt that. Mirella has them both where she wants them, that’s for sure!’

  Vik, who had known Mirella, was horrified.

  Everyone else was confused, too cold to feel patient about stopping for long.

  ‘Well?’ Ollo wondered, nudging Jonas. ‘Well?’

  Jonas dropped his head. ‘Mirella is my daughter. Alys’ mother.’

  Stina gasped.

  ‘I thought she was dead,’ Ludo said, eyes full of surprise.

  ‘I didn’t know what happened to her,’ Jonas admitted. ‘She was just... gone. And now she has Lotta?’

  Eddeth nodded.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Orvala... I think.’

  ‘And Ulrick isn’t with her anymore? He’s coming here?’

  Eddeth nodded.

  ‘So Ulrick lost the girl he thought would be his new daughter, and he left Orvala?’

  ‘But he’s not alone!’ Eddeth warned gleefully. ‘He’s riding with an army!’

  ‘What?’

  That had everyone alert.

  ‘So the someone who’s coming isn’t a someone?’ Ollo grumbled. ‘It’s an army! What didn’t you say army? Another army?’ His frozen body fizzed with panic. ‘We have to get out of this hole before we’re sucked into a war! Must be they’re coming to attack whoever’s back there. And us, sitting here, will be right in the middle of things before long!’ Ollo huffed and puffed, gathering the reins into his frozen hands, kicking Destroyer’s flanks, sending him across the field.

  No one followed him.

  ‘What army, Eddeth?’ Jonas wondered. ‘Who’s coming?’

  Tarl Brava sat astride his blowing horse, slipping off his leather gloves. He didn’t like to use gloves. He wanted his sword to feel as though it was part of his hand.

  Part of his body.

  Handing the gloves to his steward, Tarl threw a leg over the saddle, dropping into the snow with a grunt.

  The screaming had started, and he didn’t want his men taking all the fun for themselves, so sweeping his cloak away from his swordbelt, he drew out his sword, Heart Breaker. It was new, forged by the finest swordmaker in the North.

  Yet to be broken in.

  ‘Ulrick!’ he called to the man who sat astride his horse with a deep frown carved between two greying eyebrows. ‘There’ll be nothing left for you if you don’t hurry!’ And ignoring the shield offered by Uukko, Tarl strode off into the village.

  Ulrick watched Tarl’s black cloak rising behind him as though he was one of The Hunter’s shadow riders. He thought of Lotta, trapped in Orvala with Mirella, and Bergit, who he very much wanted to see again. And he realised that if he was going to find a path to prosperity, he was going to have to survive Tarl Brava. So, dropping the reins, Ulrick slid out of the saddle, watching the big brown eyes of his unfamiliar horse, who appeared disturbed by the wafting stench of death in the air; by the howling cries of pain and panic too.

  Women were begging for their lives.

  Children were crying over parents who wouldn’t wake up.

  Fires were burning, eating through the homes of families who were being torn apart, slaughtered in the streets.

  And sighing, Ulrick Dyre shut away the image of Lotta’s tear-stained face and unsheathed his sword.

  Though it was barely past midday, it was already growing dark.

  Looking up, Ollo could see a storm approaching, knowing that soon everything would get even worse.

  Eddeth’s visions had become one big snarled mess, and eventually, no one could get any sense out of her. She’d started sneezing uncontrollably, and Stina had led her away from the men, into a copse of trees, wanting to give her a chance to focus her thoughts.

  ‘That woman’s more trouble than help,’ Ollo grumbled unsympathetically. ‘She blurts out every thought that pops into her head! So how do we know what to believe?’ He stood beside his horse, having been forced to turn back after realising that no one intended to follow him. ‘According to that dreamer, there’s danger wherever we go. Whatever we do! Might as well go back to Sigurd. Ask them to let us stay the night! Share their ale!’

  Vik ignored him. He was down on his haunches with Jonas and Ludo, trying to work out where they were and who might be coming. It had been years since he’d roamed the North, though he had a few ideas.

  Jonas was quiet, still in shock about Mirella’s appearance. He wondered if Ollo was right. Perhaps Eddeth was simply a muddled woman, going slightly mad?

  Ludo, though, remembered listening to Ake around Ottby’s map table. ‘Ake was worried about two men in particular, or groups of men, up here, in Orvala.’ And using a stick, Ludo drew a cross to mark that territory. ‘And a man up here. He didn’t say who, but I think we know it’s Hector Berras. After their falling out, Hector’s been bent on revenge. It has to be him.’

  Jonas sighed. ‘Hector was always the richest man I knew, but he was generous. Even-tempered. More loyal to Ake than nearly anyone. It’s hard to get my head around that.’

  Ludo was cold, struggling to think clearly. ‘Well, whatever happened between them, Hector wants revenge on Ake, and to do it, he’ll need a massive army. Only two ways to get that. Defeat your enemies or pay mercenaries.’

  ‘Likely he can do both if he’s still got his hoard of gold,’ Jonas supposed.

  ‘So perhaps it’s Hector’s army sitting there? Perhaps Hector’s captured Sigurd?’ Vik glanced at Ludo, who wasn’t sure what to think about that.

  ‘We could go back. Talk to him.’

  ‘It might not be Hector,’ Jonas warned, still finding it impossible to believe that their old friend Hector Berras could be an enemy.

  ‘But if it is?’ Ludo was desperate.

  ‘I think we’re best to stay out of it,’ Vik decided. ‘Two armies and us in the middle? Sounds like one way onto a pyre. And what about Eddeth and Stina? And Aldo? He’s only a boy. You want us to drag them all into a war?’

  Ludo sighed, shaking his head. ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Makes more sens
e for us to try and slip around all of them, get to Orvala while the army’s gone. While that lord is down here making trouble,’ Vik suggested, eyes on Jonas, who looked so uncomfortable with the conversation that he was almost shrinking away.

  ‘If what Eddeth said is true, I don’t think Tarl Brava is our problem in Orvala,’ Jonas said quietly.

  It was impossible to see a path to safety. According to Eddeth, danger lurked in every direction now, but they had to move somewhere.

  They couldn’t stand still.

  And then an explosion of noise from the trees, as Eddeth and Stina came running towards them, struggling in the deep snow, knees lifting high, hands in the air.

  Eddeth fell first, Stina going down after her, both of them quickly pulling themselves out of the snow, back on their feet, screaming in panic.

  Chased by a pack of wolves.

  ‘What was that?’ Sigurd asked, hearing shouting.

  Raf didn’t turn around. She had his arm in her hands, running her eyes over his wound. It was suddenly dark in the tent, and she leaned closer, squinting, wanting to ensure that there were no signs of infection; that the stitches were secure. ‘Stay still,’ she ordered, sniffing the wound.

  She was small and twitchy, making strange noises as she worked, as though she was weaving spells.

  Sigurd was fascinated by her, confused as to why she was so happy to remain with an ogre like Gudrum. ‘Help me escape,’ he whispered in her ear. She smelled like honey and pine, fresh and lovely. ‘I’ll take you with me.’

  Raf ignored him.

  Thunder crashed overhead, and Sigurd jumped, grimacing in pain.

  ‘The raven sees everything,’ Raf said, gently lowering his arm to his leg. ‘Keep still, and I’ll wrap more leaves around it. They’re doing good work.’

  ‘What raven?’ Sigurd wanted to know, seeing a glimpse of Tulia’s sharp eyes.

  ‘Thenor. He’s the raven. He’s watching over you.’

  ‘What?’

  Raf clamped her lips together, worried that she’d said the wrong thing. And quickly trying to clean up her mess, she started speaking quickly. ‘He’s watching over all of us, you know. He sees everything. All that happens in Alekka.’