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

by A. E. Rayne

  Ollo looked at her as though she was speaking another language. ‘You think they’ll let us in?’

  ‘Course they will,’ Eddeth decided. ‘They don’t know us. What? You think they’re going to turn away a few harmless travellers? It’s not like we’re an army come to attack them!’ She thought of Reinar, tingling all over, having seen that he was on his way too.

  ‘Well, one of them will know us,’ Jonas warned, not wanting to dampen Eddeth’s enthusiasm. ‘And it’s hard to hide things from a dreamer. If Mirella’s still there, if she’s watching, she’ll know why we’re coming and what we hope to achieve.’

  That was true, but Eddeth didn’t want to think about Mirella.

  Mirella Vettel wasn’t the only dreamer in Orvala.

  And smiling broadly, Eddeth shut away any fears, nudging her horse across the field.

  42

  Alys drew Solveigh towards the corner of the hall, where the brazier was burning warmly, and the chairs were empty. She had told Mirella about the need to start preparing for a wedding feast, and Mirella had promptly put Bergit to work on that while she took Greppa to her chamber. The hall was busy, though there was no sign of Gudrum and Sigurd.

  But there was Solveigh.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Alys whispered, holding her hand, ‘but don’t give up. Things will change soon. I feel it.’

  Solveigh didn’t appear to even hear her. Once she had been drowning in pain, tortured and bereft, but now she was devoid of all feeling. Words flowed around her like whispers, and though part of her was conscious that a wedding was being organised, she wouldn’t allow herself to wonder whose. They spoke of Gudrum, and she heard his name with no fear. No disgust. Nothing at all.

  She was empty.

  ‘Have you eaten?’ Alys asked, eyes on Lotta, who hovered near her shoulder with Puddle in her arms. ‘Lotta! Don’t let him lick your lips. You don’t know where that tongue has been.’

  Lotta shrugged, not caring.

  ‘Go and ask the cook for some food for Solveigh. Hurry up now. Maybe Solveigh can hold your puppy while you go?’

  Lotta’s eyebrows sharpened in annoyance, but seeing how sad Solveigh looked, she nodded, holding Puddle out to her. Solveigh didn’t even turn her head. It was as though she was lost in the flames; as though no one else was there. Alys sighed, taking the puppy herself, holding him far away from her face, not wanting to be licked by that very long tongue herself.

  ‘Here,’ she said, placing the puppy in Solveigh’s lap, but Solveigh didn’t move her hands to touch him, and eventually, Alys took him back. ‘Go on, Lotta, go to the kitchen,’ she said, gently shooing her daughter away.

  ‘My beautiful Solveigh!’ Gudrum announced, stomping his boots by the doors as he dragged his shivering prisoner inside. They had walked for some time, and though Sigurd had revealed little about his brother, Gudrum had more confidence that what Raf had told him about Reinar Vilander was true. And a lord who cared that much about his brother was likely to do everything asked of him to get that brother back.

  Gudrum yanked Sigurd towards the corner, where Alys sat with Solveigh.

  Alys forced herself to look up at Gudrum, ignoring Sigurd.

  Magnus, who hovered near a firepit, stared at Sigurd for a moment, surprise sparking in his eyes before he quickly turned away.

  Sigurd saw him but showed no recognition as he shifted his attention past Alys to the desperately unhappy woman who sat by her side, staring at the brazier. She was elegant and lovely, despite her sad eyes and gaunt face. The sort of woman his mother would have approved of, he thought wryly, remembering how judgemental Gerda had been of Elin initially; how much she’d disapproved of Tulia too.

  ‘Your mother?’ Gudrum wondered, eyes on Alys.

  ‘She went to her chamber with a man,’ Alys said, standing quickly, wanting to keep Gudrum’s attention away from Solveigh. ‘I’ll go and find them.’

  ‘A man? A brother?’

  Alys nodded. She saw a vision of the man on his knees, praying before a great statue of a goddess. Eutresia, she realised. He looked up, turning to her, and she saw the glistening madness in his eyes.

  Blinking, Alys tried to focus her attention on Gudrum.

  ‘You will retrieve your mother, then help Solveigh find something to wear. And the hall! We must make it look festive, don’t you think?’ Gudrum saw Ilmar drinking with some of his men, and he pulled Sigurd in that direction. ‘Find my dreamer!’ he called to Alys. ‘And send her to my chamber!’

  Mirella had worked quickly to ward her chamber with new symbols, hoping they were powerful enough to keep Alari out. And though she still felt reluctant to speak openly, things had to move quickly, for there was much to do. ‘Tarl is alive. I have seen him, but I can’t contact him. His mind is shut. I can’t get through. Not yet.’

  ‘But does he have the men to retake Orvala?’ Greppa wondered, warming his hands over the fire.

  Mirella hoped so, though Gudrum appeared to have an army far greater than she’d anticipated – perhaps twice the size? Still, she tried to project confidence, knowing how fretful Greppa could become. ‘Yes, this is only a setback. Our plans for Alekka will not be disrupted by this... interference.’

  ‘But Alari –’

  ‘We will not be defeated by Alari! I will hold her out.’ The hairs on Mirella’s arms rose, and her confidence grew. ‘Tarl will return, and if Alari thinks that she’s the only one who can help a lord take a city, she’s sorely mistaken. No one knows Orvala like Tarl. And I certainly know it better than Alari.’

  Greppa nodded, though he was gravely concerned by the shocking turn of events. ‘This man means to have the lord’s wife. This Gudrum. And what has he done to her already?’ He took a seat opposite Mirella, wringing his red hands. ‘Touched her?’

  ‘Of course! He’s a man, isn’t he? A boorish barbarian! Yes, he’s touched her, but she carries Tarl’s child, and that child remains safe for now.’ Mirella looked up at the door, sensing someone coming.

  Greppa glanced over his shoulder. ‘And when will Tarl return?’

  ‘Within days, so I must work quickly. Come in!’ she called impatiently, ignoring Greppa’s surprise.

  And opening the door, Alys walked in, eyes on the man with the strange fringed hair. ‘Gudrum wants to see you in the hall.’

  ‘Yes, I imagine he does,’ Mirella said with little enthusiasm.

  ‘He wants it made ready for his guests.’

  ‘Guests?’ Greppa’s eyes were all over Alys, thoroughly mesmerised. ‘Who else is coming?’

  ‘Reinar Vilander,’ Mirella sighed. ‘Gudrum has taken his brother prisoner. He’s coming with gold. An army of men too.’ She peered at Alys, surprised that she wasn’t able to read her thoughts. ‘Which would be interesting and useful if we hadn’t just lost our lord.’

  ‘But maybe he can help get him back? Don’t you think, Mirella?’ Greppa wondered. ‘Couldn’t Reinar Vilander help us?’

  Mirella was just about to ask why he would want to do that when she caught a glimpse of Alys, and nodding her head, she smiled. ‘Yes, my friend, I think he could.’

  Raf returned to the hall, surprised to see Sigurd sitting on one side of Gudrum, the miserable woman who would soon be his wife on the other.

  She didn’t want to look at any of them, and eyeing the corridor, she tried to slip through the servants and Gudrum’s drinking men, hoping to escape his attention.

  ‘Raf!’ he bellowed, spotting the little dreamer.

  She turned around with a grunt of displeasure, stomping towards him, eyes low.

  ‘You look frozen solid!’ he laughed, seeing the shiny red tip of her nose. ‘Come, come and join us. I’m sure Sigurd would enjoy the company.’ Gudrum felt Sigurd stiffen beside him, and ignoring him, he held out a hand. ‘Come closer, little Raf, and have something to drink!’

  Raf took a seat at the table before Gudrum, a sour look on her face. A servant rushed forward with a tray of cups of ale to choose from, a
nd Raf took one dutifully, not wanting to provoke a fuss.

  ‘Tarl Brava has a great storehouse of wine and mead, though we’ll save those for the feast,’ Gudrum decided, slipping an arm around Solveigh’s back. He wasn’t bothered by her silence or her lack of attention. Few women were as eager for his company as Raf. Most shied away from him, thanks to the bitch who’d torn his face to pieces. He clenched his right hand into a fist, imagining what he would do to her when they met again.

  And they would, Gudrum knew.

  They would.

  ‘What feast?’ Raf wanted to know, suddenly hungry.

  ‘Our feast! To celebrate my marriage, my new lordship, and, of course, to welcome your brother!’ He turned to Sigurd, who finally lifted his head in time to see Alys emerge from the corridor with a woman who had to be her mother.

  He frowned in confusion, not understanding that turn of events.

  ‘So that is what we’ll do. Plan our feast! Raf, you come with me. Ilmar! Watch my good doggy. He can stay here till I return. Maybe he can get a smile out of my sweet Solveigh? A handsome soul like that?’ And ignoring the feelings of jealousy that burned as he stared at the blue-eyed warrior, Gudrum headed for Raf.

  Eddeth wanted to keep going, but their horses needed a rest, so they stopped as soon as they found a frozen stream. Vik and Aldo smashed holes in it with sticks and rocks while everyone dismounted, stretching out their tired bodies.

  Eddeth and Stina disappeared to relieve themselves, while Ollo just pissed where he stood, not bothered about any of them.

  ‘You could’ve done that elsewhere,’ Jonas sighed, back aching. ‘Now we have to smell the stink of you!’

  ‘Well, lucky for you pissing’s all I’m doing!’ Ollo grumped, determined not to feel happy about anything.

  Jonas laughed, holding out a small handful of oats to his horse. They were rationing the remaining grain with great care, hoping it would keep the horses going a while longer. One of the pack horses had dropped dead, and they’d had to spread out their saddlebags, making each horse carry a slightly heavier load, so Jonas was keen to ensure that they stopped often, for no one wanted to share a saddle with Ollo.

  ‘I see Sigurd!’ Eddeth declared, hurrying back to her horse. ‘Sigurd, I tell you!’

  Ludo looked up in surprise from where he was feeding his own horse. ‘Where?’

  ‘With Alys!’ Eddeth was amazed by the vision that had hit her like a bolt of lightning. Bright and clear. So very clear. ‘Sigurd, yes, Sigurd!’ She lost her breath, momentarily unable to speak.

  Stina followed her. ‘And Alys? In Orvala?’

  Eddeth nodded. ‘Sigurd was in shackles! Pulled along like a cow to market! But then Alys. She was there too!’

  Everyone felt a lift, apart from Ollo, who continued to frown. ‘Was there a hall or a tavern where they were? Somewhere with a fire? Some ale?’

  ‘Yes!’ Eddeth declared, seeing his eyes come to life. ‘They stood outside a great hall. With bears!’

  Vik returned from breaking up the stream. ‘Bears?’

  ‘Tall bears,’ Eddeth said, eyes wide. ‘On both sides of the doors. They’re bear people, I think.’

  Vik frowned, knowing that wasn’t a good thing.

  But Ludo didn’t care. He couldn’t have been happier. To know that Sigurd and Alys were in the same place? Together? ‘And how can we rescue them?’ he wondered desperately. ‘Did you see that?’

  ‘No,’ Eddeth muttered. ‘Not yet, but don’t you worry.’ She tapped her head. ‘Something else will come soon, so don’t you worry now.’

  No one looked reassured, but Eddeth didn’t notice as she hopped over the snow like a rabbit, eager to get back to her horse.

  Gudrum returned to his chamber, pleased to see that Mirella was waiting with her friend. They stood around the long fire pit, the funny little man holding his hands to the flames as though he’d never felt warmth before.

  Gudrum smiled. ‘You are the brother? The one who will marry me?’

  Greppa turned to Gudrum, horrified by the look of the man, though he tried to shield his disgust, lowering his eyes in a show of respect. ‘My lord,’ he mumbled dutifully, head bowed.

  ‘This is Brother Greppa,’ Mirella said, watching Raf, who hovered near Gudrum, scowling. ‘From the Island. Though he chooses to winter here.’

  ‘Which is lucky for us!’ Gudrum announced, motioning to the chairs in the corner. ‘Please, sit, for we have much to discuss.’ A servant hurried past him with a tray, placing an ale jug and four finely-crafted goblets on a low table nestled amongst the chairs. Another servant followed her, carrying an armload of wood, which she placed beside the brazier, carefully adding a log to the flames.

  Greppa let Mirella and Raf sit first before taking a seat himself. Nerves pinging, he kept his eyes on Gudrum, feeling most unsettled. The man looked like something a dog had been chewing on.

  Raf scowled at him, reading his thoughts, surprised by how rude the man was. Her feelings for Gudrum were growing more conflicted by the day, but she still felt extremely protective of him.

  ‘You wish us to help prepare your marriage, my lord?’ Mirella began. ‘To take care of all the arrangements?’

  ‘I do, yes,’ Gudrum said. ‘And more. I have visitors arriving. Raf has seen that they’re on their way, haven’t you, girl?’

  Raf nodded, watching Greppa, who looked at her in surprise, realising that she was a dreamer. ‘They’ll be outside the gates in two days.’ She shifted her eyes to Mirella, feeling intimidated, unable to read the dreamer’s thoughts.

  Mirella smiled. ‘And you wish to invite your guests to the wedding?’

  ‘I do,’ Gudrum agreed. ‘Yes! So if you want to be of use to me, Mirella, and remain in my hall, then you will help me. According to my little dreamer here, the Goddess of Magic herself despises you, so to keep you alive might become inconvenient to me. I have been blessed by the luck of the gods since I arrived in Alekka, and I’ve no wish to go against my generous benefactors, so you’ll have to give me a very good reason to keep you.’

  Mirella’s eyes showed only a hint of worry, for she felt only a hint of worry. ‘Reinar Vilander is no friend of mine. His father cut off my husband’s head, so I will certainly help you, my lord. I would be delighted to.’

  ‘I don’t want to stop!’ Tarl screamed at Ulrick, his throat so dry it hurt. ‘Do you think I should stop?’

  Ulrick nodded. ‘Yes, lord, you must stop for the night. We’ve lost too many horses now. You don’t want to arrive at Orvala alone, too tired to even lift your sword!’

  Those words of good sense finally pushed through Tarl’s rage, and he yanked his horse to a stop so abruptly that it neighed loudly, hooves skidding. ‘Fine. And then what?’

  ‘We use our time wisely, my lord. We make plans. You’ve lived in Orvala for years. You know it better than your enemy. So we plan. We find a way in, for there will be one, won’t there?’

  Tarl didn’t know who to trust.

  He kept hoping that Mirella would come to him.

  He wanted her to come to him.

  Maybe, he realised, his fears growing... maybe she was dead?

  He dropped into the snow, eyes on his steward, Uukko, who hurried to his side with the last of their food. Tarl wasn’t hungry, so he flicked a hand at the boy, sending him away. ‘Bring us something to drink!’ he called, sighing as he turned back to Ulrick. ‘We can make a plan, but we lost many men, and they’ll have the wall. Hard to fight against that.’

  ‘We’ve still got archers. Still got arrows. And you don’t have four walls in Orvala. It’s not like Slussfall, my lord. Not like Ottby. Surely, we can go around?’

  Tarl nodded, though he didn’t like the sound of having to sneak into his own city, which, despite the lack of walls, he’d worked hard to make impenetrable. He ran a hand over his beard, breaking up thin shards of ice, and staring into Ulrick’s tired eyes, he finally smiled. ‘We can certainly go around.’

  Berger k
issed Ilene’s cheek, thrilled by the sight of the farmstead in the distance. ‘Smells like supper to me!’

  They’d certainly been lucky, Reinar thought, wondering if Thenor had something to do with it. When the sea froze, and they’d had to abandon their ships, it had felt like a crushing setback. Though, in hindsight, Reinar realised, it was likely a blessing in disguise, for if they had to make a quick exit from Orvala, they wouldn’t have a fleet frozen in the harbour, trapped in ice.

  He kept thinking through what they would do once they arrived, but the more his thoughts wandered, looking for solutions, the more concerned he became about Ottby. So, leaving Berger to lead the men towards the long building with the welcome snakes of smoke curling from its snowy roof, Reinar drew Bolli away, wanting to talk privately.

  ‘What?’ Bolli didn’t look happy, eager to get to a fire, and being the Lord of Ottby’s second favourite helmsman, he was likely to be one of the first in line to get inside that house.

  Reinar stepped closer to the shivering man, bending his head. ‘Sigurd’s trapped, and likely I’ll be walking into a trap myself. But I don’t want you part of things. If something happens to the both of us, you’ll run back to the ships as fast as you can. Get back to Ottby. Tell Bjarni what’s happened. Protect the fort.’

  ‘And?’ Bolli asked, sensing there was more.

  ‘He’ll be the lord. Tell him that.’

  Bolli nodded, resisting the urge to scoff, knowing that Reinar was right to think of such things. ‘I’ll do what I can, if it comes to that. I doubt it will, though. I’m sure this new Lord of Orvala just wants a friendly chat.’

  Reinar grinned, already feeling better. ‘Likely not. Though remember what I said, and promise you’ll do it, Bolli.’

  ‘I do. I promise.’ And then Bolli was laughing. ‘Imagine what Gerda would do with Agnette as the Lady of Ottby!’

  Reinar laughed with him, seeing a glimpse of his mother’s indignant face. He couldn’t even imagine how she’d react when she discovered the truth about Sigurd. But not wanting to let that thought blossom in his mind just yet, Reinar straightened up, patting Bolli on the back. ‘So we’re agreed, then? You know what to do?’