Winter's Fury (The Furyck Saga: Book One)

by A. E. Rayne

  Thorgils came at her with increasing force, giving her no respite, his stamina stronger than hers, and it was Jael’s turn to step back. Her feet were damp in her boots, her footing less steady now as she moved about, seeking firm ground. She was on the defence. He attacked her repeatedly, his powerful strokes flowing with ease. And she let him come, ducking underneath his blows, sweeping her sword around, catching the back of his legs.

  He was much bigger than her and Jael knew she could turn that to her favour. She started stepping back, coolly, letting him come at her, again and again, until she was only defending, saving her energy, and keeping herself protected. He slashed at her repeatedly, but now that she was pulling back each time, he kept missing, his face pulsing with red-bearded fury.

  He finally made contact with Jael’s shield, and it broke. She quickly threw away the shattered pieces, pushing her sword out in front of her body; it was her only defence now. He had tired himself out, she could see, while she had been pacing herself and now she could finish him off. He looked unsure what to do now that she had no shield. He was thinking too much again, worrying over the fact that she was a woman; Eirik’s prize, Eadmund’s wife. She could read his darting eyes. He might still have a shield, but she could sense that his mind was vulnerable.

  Jael decided to end it quickly now; she was hungry and cold. Heaving in another deep breath, she spun around, unsettling Thorgils once more. He didn’t know which way to expect her to come at him. She used that to her advantage, aiming at his left, but, as he threw his sword and shield to counteract her move, she shifted her weight to the right and hit him straight in his exposed stomach. He groaned sharply and stumbled, and she rushed at him. His shield went up, but she’d hurt him, and his sword arm didn’t respond as quickly as he needed. She struck his thigh with force.

  There were groans and gasps from the crowd as Jael continued her assault on Thorgils. She was on the front foot, coming at him again and again, her sword making contact with nearly every strike. Thorgils stumbled against the railings now, but as she lunged forwards, Jael caught Eadmund’s worried glance. She tried to shut it out, but for a moment, her focus blurred. She saw the fear in Thorgils’ eyes. Not the fear of being hurt, but the fear of humiliation. She had taken the advantage, she could finish it, and he could sense that. So could the crowd. Their cheering was whisper thin. Jael wasn’t one of theirs; they weren’t supporting her victory.

  It was her turn to stumble as she lost her footing on a piece of slush. She tipped slightly sideways and off balance. Thorgils was at her quickly, using the advantage of his shield to butt her harshly to the ground. There was nothing she could do but fall, and although she still had her sword, Thorgils brought his hefty foot down on her arm in one quick move, his sword at her throat.

  Fight over.

  Cheers rang out and Thorgils, breathing more heavily than he could remember, rolled his eyes in relief. He looked down at Jael, lying on her back in the dirt and felt the pleasure of his victory settle sweetly into his chest. He reached down and pulled her up. She frowned at him, uninjured, he was pleased to see.

  ‘Well done,’ was all she could say before Thorgils’ friends invaded the Pit and started the back-clapping celebrations.

  Jael stepped away from the crowd and took a deep breath.

  ‘That was very kind of you.’

  Tarak had crept up behind her.

  Jael froze, surprised by his comment. ‘Kind?’

  Tarak leaned in closely, his sour breath warm in her ear. She flinched. ‘Letting him win like that,’ he rasped.

  Jael turned around, desperate to escape his closeness. ‘Letting him?’ she hissed. ‘I fell, he won. There was no letting.’

  Tarak just smiled, not taking his eyes off her, and walked away.

  It hadn’t been so awful to fight Thorgils, Jael decided as she watched him celebrate with his friends. He kept looking over at her as she sat quietly at the high table with Eirik, Eydis, and Morac, raising his cup to her, regularly motioning for her to join them. But she shook her head each time; she wasn’t a bad loser, but she didn’t feel like celebrating.

  ‘So, do you think he has a chance of beating Tarak?’ Eirik wondered as he followed Jael’s gaze.

  ‘Thorgils?’ she grimaced as she turned towards him, her side aching from one of Thorgils’ shots. ‘None at all.’

  ‘Ha! That’s not very generous of you,’ Eirik snorted.

  ‘I wouldn’t put my coin on him beating Tarak,’ she whispered firmly. ‘If that’s what you want to know. Not today, but perhaps I’ll help him, and then he may have more of a chance.’

  Eirik couldn’t help but laugh again. ‘But he beat you!’

  ‘Yes, that’s true,’ she smiled, wryly. ‘He did.’

  Thorgils had staggered up to their table now, tired of her shaking head. ‘Come on, Jael, come and share a drink with me. After that fight? That was some fight we had, you and I!’ he slurred into her face. ‘Come, come on!’

  Jael smiled reluctantly at his red-faced happiness. ‘Alright, just one, just for a moment. I can only stand listening to you tell the story of your victory one more time!’ And she stood up, wincing slightly at the ache in her legs.

  Eadmund was draining his cup with vigour as Jael stepped into the tight little circle of friends. He looked surprised and uncomfortable to see her, his easy smile quickly replaced by a tense frown. He stood up straighter, wiping his hand roughly over his beard.

  ‘Do you know everyone here?’ Thorgils wondered, handing Jael a cup of ale. ‘I imagine not. Well, Torstan, of course. Eadmund? Perhaps not...’ He laughed at his own joke, but neither Jael nor Eadmund joined in. ‘Then we have Erland, Klaufi, and Orvar, three pieces of shit we’ve known since we were hairless boys. And all still standing!’ All five men raised their cups to Thorgils with a smile.

  Jael nodded briefly at the three new faces, trying to avoid Eadmund’s eyes. He wasn’t as drunk as usual, not even swaying, and her awareness of that made her slightly irritable. She didn’t want to do anything to encourage him to her bed. Not tonight. Not ever. It was unavoidable, of course, she knew that, but she was happy to keep living this deluded existence a while longer.

  ‘So,’ Thorgils smiled, leaning down to her ear. ‘I beat you then.’

  Jael laughed at the pure, drunken pleasure that painted his beaming face. ‘Yes, you did.’

  ‘So now, I think you must agree that I have a good chance against...’ he looked around, still retaining enough wits to keep his volume measured, ‘...Tarak.’

  ‘Well...’ Jael looked unconvinced. ‘I’d say no. No chance.’

  Thorgils almost fell over backwards. ‘What?!’ he roared, then laughed loudly, a deep chuckle bubbling out of his throat. ‘I didn’t pick you for a bad loser, Jael, nor a foolish one!’

  ‘I think you could have a chance if I were to help you. I could train with you, teach you some ways to improve.’

  ‘You? Who were just beaten by me? Help me?’ Thorgils eyes rolled wildly at her as he chewed on that, confused. He fixed her with a wobbly stare, then leaned in, throwing waves of ale towards her face, his expression lightening suddenly. ‘Yes, you know, I think that is a very good plan actually. I have no idea how you did some of those things out there, and as for what you did to this,’ he tapped the side of his head, ‘that is something I do need to know. So yes... let’s do that then. Let’s be a team. The team,’ he whispered, placing one arm around her shoulder and breathing into her ear, ‘who will destroy Tarak Soren.’

  Jael smiled, accidentally catching Eadmund’s eye. He didn’t look away and for some reason, neither did she, and she felt her stomach flip. The sensation was so unexpected that Jael almost bit her tongue. She swallowed and finally dragged her eyes away, staring into her cup. She took a quick drink, thinking that it was time she left. But Thorgils had slipped away to talk with the men whose names she’d already forgotten and Eadmund moved in to speak with her.

  Eadmund wasn’t drunk; he’d had a
few cups of ale, but his feet were steady, and his head felt clear as he stepped towards Jael. He didn’t know why he felt compelled to talk to her. Perhaps it was that his father was watching him? Perhaps it was the look he’d seen on her face during the fight when she’d slipped? It hadn’t been a look of surprise; he’d been sober enough to notice that, clear-headed enough to see what she had done. Something in that moment had given him a feeling that wasn’t dislike, or fear, or even disgust. He’d finally witnessed a person behind those scowling eyes; the person he was married to.

  ‘Are you going to train with us, then?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘With you?’ Jael was surprised. ‘Are you training? I didn’t realise.’ She looked him over doubtfully, and most of Eadmund’s loosely-put-together confidence dissolved.

  ‘What did you think I was doing in the Pit every day?’

  ‘I wasn’t sure,’ she smiled. ‘Finding a new place to sleep? Every time I saw you, you were lying face down in the mud.’

  Eadmund saw humour lurking in the corners of her eyes and he relaxed. ‘Well, it has been a long time. So yes, mostly I have been lying in the mud. But it’s a start.’

  Jael had no choice but to look at him now. He was quite close to her, having been bumped forwards by Thorgils, who was gesticulating madly behind him. ‘Well, that’s a good thing, to make a start. Now you just have to keep going. Less drinking and more fighting.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Eadmund muttered, suddenly anxious. ‘Maybe on both counts. I’m not sure I’m ready for either of those suggestions. All I know is that if I can get up and get into that Pit each morning, there’s a chance.’

  His face looked so much better, she thought; less bloated. He was still fat, of course, a week of being chased around by Thorgils and Torstan wasn’t going to shed much of that, but overall he seemed more alive. His eyes were focused on her, almost alert.

  Eadmund’s attention suddenly made Jael feel very awkward. She swallowed, draining her cup, and excused herself quickly.

  ‘I will see you in the Pit tomorrow!’ Thorgils called after her as she slipped through the crowds and up to the table where she had left her cloak.

  ‘You’re leaving?’ Eydis wondered. ‘I don’t blame you. They will be drinking for hours yet!’ She rolled her eyes in the way a young girl does when she thinks about something revolting; usually boys.

  ‘I know,’ Jael yawned, wrapping her cloak around her shoulders. ‘But I will come and visit you tomorrow, Eydis, and we can go walking together. Goodnight.’

  Eydis looked pleased.

  Eirik looked surprised. She was an unusual creature, he thought to himself. And hopefully a fertile one. He watched as she moved through the crowd. There were a few cheers after her, a few goodbyes, a small show of affection that had not been there before. And who could blame them? She had put on some show in the Pit. What a fighter, he smiled. Why had Lothar been foolish enough to let her go? Well, perhaps there was the answer, he surmised: Lothar was a fool.

  As Jael hurried to escape the hall, Eirik looked for Eadmund, who was still there, talking to his friends, but his head had turned in the direction of the door, staring after his wife.

  The bed was freezing. Jael had thrown both puppies under the furs with her in a desperate attempt to warm herself up, but they had wriggled out as soon as she’d let them go, preferring to lie on top, and, in Vella’s case, as far away from her as possible.

  Jael thought of Aleksander and Edela. She worried about Axl. She wanted to sink into another dream where she could speak to her grandmother again. She sighed and let her mind wander back there, to familiar thoughts of home; comforting smells and faces, rooms and touches. But her mind wouldn’t let her twist away from Eadmund for long. He kept coming up. She saw his face at every turn; annoyingly, frustratingly.

  Jael opened her eyes and frowned. She tried to think on the fight instead. Her body ached, and from experience, she knew that the aches and pains would only intensify tomorrow. She thought of Thorgils, and of the slip that had gifted him victory. Hopefully, it was only Tarak who had seen that she had done it on purpose. Jael didn’t regret it. She’d had her fun, and beating Thorgils would have meant nothing to her; no one would have cheered for her. Well, maybe Eirik, or Eydis, maybe Fyn, when she told him the tale, but no one else. She was a stranger to them, and an awkward one at that, she knew. Thorgils’ win held much more value to him, to all of them. Perhaps one day they would cheer her on, and if that day came, perhaps she would care enough to win?

  Jael shook that thought away quickly; what was she thinking? Thinking about Oss and its people as though she wanted them to like her, as though she wanted to belong? She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember Andala. But Andala without Ranuf had felt like living with strangers; strangers who had betrayed her family. It was proving harder to remember that place with any warmth now, as much as she wanted to. Except for Aleksander. Her eyes relaxed as she saw his face, and all the tension in her body started to ease away. If only she could hear his voice and listen to him laugh at how soft she was becoming. He knew her better than all of them. She sighed, her body unwinding further.

  Eadmund’s face suddenly jumped into her mind again. Groaning loudly, she rolled over and put the pillow over her head.

  19

  Eydis looked out of sorts, Jael thought, as they walked briskly along the snow-covered street. Snow had been falling steadily all afternoon, and no one had been out to clear it yet. Jael couldn’t blame anyone for not wanting to be outside. It was mean-spirited weather, weather only the truly hardy could enjoy. And she was not one of them.

  She gripped Eydis’ hand tightly as they walked towards a huddle of large men. They nodded at Jael as she passed, their smiles visible underneath low-drawn hoods; that was new, she thought, as they hurried on towards Entorp’s house. It was time for her tattooing and Jael was not looking forward to it. She had her head down, distracted by thoughts of tattoos and Evaine, and completely failed to notice that Evaine was actually heading straight for them.

  ‘Jael!’ Eydis squeezed her hand urgently, and Jael’s eyes came up just in time to avoid a crash.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry!’ Evaine straightened up, pulling back her white hood to reveal pink cheeks and innocent eyes. ‘I was so busy trying to hide from the snow that I didn’t see you coming!’

  Jael was unsure how to respond to this girl, who she was on her way to protect herself from. Despite Evaine’s childlike appearance, her right hand was itching to slip inside her cloak and rest on her sword.

  ‘Nobody’s fault but the weather’s,’ Jael said shortly.

  But that didn’t send Evaine on her way.

  ‘And how are you, dear Eydis? I haven’t spoken to you in so long!’ Evaine smiled serenely at the little girl, who gripped Jael’s hand tightly.

  Eydis frowned and didn’t say a word.

  Jael was pleased to see that it unsettled Evaine. ‘Eydis is unwell today,’ she explained. ‘I thought some cold air might help, but the snow is so bad, we may as well give up.’

  Evaine turned her gaze towards Jael. ‘Well, there is always plenty of cold air on Oss, isn’t there Eydis? Cold air and darkness. Especially at this time of year. Nothing but darkness it seems, surrounding us all.’ She stared serenely at both Jael and Eydis, whose very hearts froze at her words.

  ‘But the darkness won’t last,’ Jael said firmly, her eyes narrowing. ‘Spring will be here before long. Now, I must get Eydis walking before she freezes to the street. Goodbye.’

  They left quickly, both feeling even colder than before.

  When they reached Entorp’s door, Jael turned to Eydis. ‘Are you alright?’ You haven’t said a word since we left the hall, nor since we bumped into her.’

  Eydis turned her head towards her feet. It was snowing heavily now, but Jael didn’t want to go into Entorp’s if Eydis had something important on her mind. There was a lean-to shelter on the other side of the street that appeared unoccupied, so Jael grabbed Eydis’ hand an
d dragged her across to it.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Eydis protested. ‘Entorp is expecting us!’

  ‘That may be true, but I think you should tell me what’s wrong first,’ Jael insisted firmly. ‘Something is wrong. I can feel it, and it was there before we ever bumped into Evaine.’ She wandered to the back of the shelter, checking for anyone lurking in the shadows. Thankfully there was no one to be seen. The snow had sent most people to work on indoor chores for the afternoon, it seemed.

  Eydis looked uncomfortable but resigned. She felt her way to a hay bale, and sat down, slipping her gloved hands under her legs. ‘I’ve been trying to dream a lot these past few weeks, for my father, and for you. It has not been easy. I’ve had some very dark dreams,’ she said faintly, so faintly that Jael had to sit down next to her to make out her words.

  ‘What about?’ Jael wondered anxiously; a worried dreamer was always a bad sign.

  ‘About Ivaar,’ Eydis said sadly. ‘He’s coming. I see it so clearly. He will be here soon. Before the Thaw.’

  Jael was shocked. ‘But how? The sea is frozen. That would be impossible, surely?’

  ‘Well, there is one place to the south of the island, where the winds blow warmer. The seas do not freeze so much there, and that is how you can get to Oss from some of the islands, from Kalfa, where Ivaar is. He could make it. He will make it. I have seen it. He will bring his whole family. He will come.’

  Jael rubbed her gloves together, her dark eyebrows pinched into sharp lines. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. It was no good thing for Ivaar to come, that was what Thorgils had warned. Eydis, too, saw it as a bad omen but what would it truly mean for her? Thorgils believed Ivaar would kill Eadmund, and who else? She glanced at Eydis, who still looked troubled. ‘What is it? What else have you dreamed?’ she wondered, watching Eydis squirm beneath her questions.

  ‘I, I...’ she stuttered awkwardly. ‘I have seen Evaine... carrying Eadmund’s child.’