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

by A. E. Rayne

  ‘If we fail,’ Sevrin murmured, carefully, ‘we need to know that the fort is defended. If our fleet is crippled, they will not make it back in time to help, if they make it back at all. I don’t believe Haaron will let us get away with such a bold attack. He will surely send his fleet to Oss, and if we have barely dented them, the damage they inflict could be catastrophic.’

  Eirik looked sternly at the wooden figures on the table in front of him. He had sequestered one of the hall’s tables for their battle planning, and it now stood to the right of his chair, permanently covered in moveable figures, outlining his ever-changing strategies for the invasion. Without Morac’s calm reassurance, he found himself doubt-riddled and fretting, fiddling with the figures constantly.

  He picked up two of the wooden ships and brought them back to join the couple he had left at Oss. ‘We cannot send so many ships, then.’

  ‘But if we don’t take enough men, we have no hope of defeating them, my lord,’ Otto urged, his brow furrowed with concern. ‘The men on Skorro are some of Haaron’s best. His best sailors, his best warriors. If the invasion is to be a success, we have to eliminate them and quickly. It will determine the outcome of everything, I am certain of it. The more ships we send, the better chance we have. Besides,’ he said, looking pointedly at Sevrin, ‘you forget how much trouble they will have coming through the Widow’s Peak. If they try to follow us, most of them won’t make it through in one piece.’

  Sevrin snorted. ‘You think they won’t have learned how to navigate that handful of stones by now?’ He glared impatiently at Eirik. ‘We underestimate them and put ourselves in grave danger if we simply assume they won’t be able to chase us.’

  Eirik pulled on the ends of his beard distractedly, regretting that he’d allowed himself to become so dependent upon Morac’s thinking; his own head had become lazy because of it.

  He glanced at Eydis as he sat down in his chair. So far she’d had no dreams at all about Hest. None. And it worried him. He needed luck for this invasion. Perhaps her lack of dreams was already a sign that no good thing would come of it. He sighed. He simply couldn’t lead his men to another heavy defeat. Or, he stilled, perhaps that was how it was to end for him? Sinking into the black depths of the Adrano Sea, watching his men drown alongside him. He shuddered, plagued by swirling doubts; he was desperate for some insight.

  ‘Let us continue this tomorrow. I will think on your suggestions overnight,’ Eirik muttered distractedly, rolling his hands over the edges of his chair. ‘Go, get yourselves a drink.’ He waved his hand, dismissing them with a frown. The two men gave Eirik a quick nod and turned to leave. He barely noticed; he had already turned his attention towards Eydis. ‘So what do you think, my daughter? What chance do we have of taking Skorro?’

  Eydis blinked, squirming in her seat. ‘I can’t say, Father. I have tried to dream on it, but nothing has come at all.’

  ‘Just my death, that’s what’s coming, isn’t it?’ he whispered at her. ‘Coming faster each day, and still I’m in this muddle with Eadmund and Ivaar.’ He leaned his head backwards, his body slumping with a sigh. ‘My life was not an easy one, but all of this,’ he swept his hand around the hall, ‘is mine. All of it. And where did I come from? I was the shit on my father’s boot, kicked about like a dog from the day I could walk. I scraped around this hall, waiting for the blows that would come, watching the way he treated us, all of his slaves, as though we were nothing.’ Eirik stared into the far reaches of the hall, further beyond, back to a time when it had belonged to Grim Skalleson. It had been a smaller, darker place then, filled with the rotting stench of slavers and their perverse ways. ‘I saw what he did to my mother. I swore I would destroy him, destroy all the slavers, take this place back, free us all. And I did. But what was the point of any of it, if it all returns to a pile of picked-over-bones when I’m gone? How do I know that it won’t?’

  Eydis’ eyes were wide with concern as she felt about for her father’s arm; he sounded morose and very, very lost. ‘Where is Morac? I have not heard his voice for many days. Don’t you need his advice more than mine? He can help you, can’t he?’

  ‘Morac...’ Eirik sighed. ‘We have had a disagreement, he and I. I’m not even sure if he’s even still on Oss, or whether I will see him again.’ He closed his eyes, wondering if he even wanted to.

  Runa was tired of this endless silence. She loved silence most of the time, when Morac wasn’t here, when Evaine had left the house, when she found herself completely alone, but this? She had had enough of this. Something had to change.

  Morac sat and stared into the fire. It felt as though he had been sitting there for days, and Runa didn’t know what to do to shift him, both out of his stupor and out from under her feet. She felt as though she couldn’t breathe. He needed to get back to the hall and make amends with Eirik. Another few days of this and she would lose her mind.

  ‘I was thinking that we should leave.’

  Runa looked up from her embroidering, horrified. She was adding details to a new cloak for herself; a luxury she had not had the pleasure of for many years. ‘Leave? And go where?’

  ‘To Rikka.’ Morac looked up, his drawn face suddenly brighter, the clouds in his head finally shifting. ‘Evaine will need us. Morana can care for her and help her with the birth, when the time comes, but she lives in a dirty, stinking shack. Evaine will be suffering, of that I’m sure.’

  Runa wanted to say how pleased she was to hear it, and that the two of them deserved one another, but she bit her lip and thought quickly. ‘Rikka? But surely if you do that, there would be no way back into Eirik’s hall. You would be banishing us all?’

  ‘What makes you think I want back into that hall?’ Morac spat bitterly. ‘What has he done for me, after all these years of me doing everything for him?’

  Runa put her work to one side and came to sit next to her husband. ‘Well, we have this home, surely the finest on Oss?’ she tried. ‘Remember when we were children and you had to dig about for scraps so we could eat? We shivered in Grim’s hall every night, with not even a blanket to cover us. Look at how far we have come because of your friendship with Eirik, because of your service to him. Without that, none of this would have been possible.’

  Morac looked scornfully at his wife. ‘And you think that when I am taking my last breaths, I will be glad I lived in a fine house? That it is my thick walls and wooden floorboards I will be thinking of as I die? As if that is all my life truly meant?’ He looked disgusted. ‘I haven’t done all of this to have a house, Runa! To go from being a slave to a servant with a nice house. That is no life! Where is the power in that? What power do I have over my life? Or that of my family’s? That he could just send my daughter away because she displeases him?!’

  ‘Well, he is the king,’ Runa tried. ‘No matter who you become on Oss, Eirik is the king, and the king will always have his way.’

  ‘Will he, though?’ Morac wondered, smiling to himself. ‘Will he?’

  It had snowed throughout the night, and Jael was relieved to be wading through soft, wet powder, instead of skating about on treacherous ice. She grimaced, remembering the pain of her fall and the look of satisfaction on Tarak’s face as he watched her fly. Grumbling into her cloak, she took another bite of the hot loaf of bread she was bringing back to Thorgils.

  So far the tincture had been trouble. Eadmund had initially decided to accept their help, but not long after his first dose, he’d become edgy, irate, desperate for a drink, and difficult to control. He’d paced anxiously around the cottage for some time, then decided to try and escape. Repeatedly. They’d restrained him, tied him to the bed, and Thorgils had brought Eadmund’s chair from the house and some more rope. It had been a long few days, listening to Eadmund growl, bark, yell, shake, and vomit.

  No one had slept much.

  ‘Hello there,’ Ivaar smiled as he snuck up behind Jael.

  She froze, her mouth stuffed full of bread.

  ‘I didn’t realise
you had such an appetite!’ Ivaar laughed, peering at her bulging face and the loaf of bread she was trying to hide beneath her cloak.

  Jael swallowed as quickly as she could, trying to decide exactly how she felt about her Ivaar plan, now that she had made the decision to help Eadmund. ‘Well, it’s hot,’ she mumbled. ‘I like it when it’s hot.’ She cringed; that had to be one of the stupidest things she’d said in a while.

  ‘You are the most interesting woman I’ve ever met!’ Ivaar laughed. ‘It feels as though we have not spoken in days, not since the waterfall. Not properly at least.’

  Jael looked around. It was mid-morning, and a fair amount of people were milling about the square; she felt awkward and exposed. ‘Ahhh, that.’

  ‘Yes, that.’

  ‘Well, you tried to kiss me, so I suppose I’m avoiding you,’ she smiled, unsure whether honesty was the best approach with a man like Ivaar, whose eyes were always shifting about.

  ‘Ha!’ he laughed freely, relief on his face. He had been worried that she had gone over to the other side, that he had lost any hope of having her on his, but she seemed fine. More than fine. ‘Well, I can’t blame you there. Although, it’s probably the only time I’ve ever been turned down.’

  ‘Really?’ Jael acted surprised, playing along. ‘Well, you do have nice hair. I can imagine it’s impossible to resist a man who makes such an effort with his appearance.’

  Ivaar felt a surge in his body as he looked into her eyes; he’d missed her company, more than he’d realised. She was completely unafraid of him, and he was fascinated by her. ‘Let’s go for another ride today,’ he suggested. ‘I promise not to try and kiss you this time.’

  Jael narrowed her eyes. ‘That may be what your mouth is saying, but your eyes are saying something else entirely,’ she grinned and started to walk away. ‘Perhaps tomorrow? You may have cooled down enough by then!’

  Ivaar watched after her, frustrated but excited. There was still hope to be found in Jael. He was sure of it.

  Runa came back into the house after finally escaping for a long, cold walk and found Morac in their bedchamber, packing all their clothing into chests. She gasped. ‘What are you doing?’

  Morac barely looked up. ‘We can get to Rikka tomorrow. I’ve been out to speak to Edrun, and he’s happy to take us in the morning, all being well with the weather overnight.’

  Their house was well insulated and warm, but Runa couldn’t stop shivering. How was she going to talk him out of this idea? He seemed to have made up his mind, but she couldn’t go to Rikka. The thought of being with Evaine again made her ill, but having to endure Morana as well, terrified her. And there was no way she could leave poor Fyn. Not that she ever got to see him anymore, but at least he knew she was here, and she could ensure he was sent food regularly.

  She would not abandon him.

  ‘But what about Eirik?’ Runa tried. ‘What will you tell him?’

  ‘Why do I need to tell him anything?’ Morac snorted. ‘I am not bound to him, not anymore.

  ‘But you made an oath.’

  ‘Bah!’ Morac spat, closing the lid on his chest and moving over to start on hers. ‘He broke that oath when he banished Evaine. Why should my loyalty remain true to a man like that, who doesn’t respect my family? Our oaths were made when we were nothing boys. What do they mean now? Just lies and empty promises. I do not care about any oath that lies in the dirt, trodden on, year after year.’ He sighed and sat back onto the bed, his body suddenly weary. ‘Runa, come here. Come, sit down.’

  She did as she was bid, still shaking, her eyes darting about desperately. She would not go to Rikka; she couldn’t go to Rikka.

  ‘You don’t want to go, do you?’ he asked quietly, taking her hands in his.

  Runa looked down. ‘I don’t want to leave Oss,’ she mumbled. ‘It’s our home. If we both leave, there will be no way back here for our family. Not ever.’ She looked up and saw some hope on the horizon, then. ‘But if you go, on your own, then I can keep our house here, for when you return with Evaine and the child. Who knows what would happen to the house if we were both to abandon it? Eirik might not take things well and have it destroyed. And you know how much Evaine loves this house.’

  Morac frowned. She did have a point, he realised. It would be easy for him to slip away without any fuss, but if they were both to leave, there would certainly be loose ends and a lot of people whispering in Eirik’s ear. He didn’t want to make things worse where Eirik was concerned, not yet anyway.

  Morac put Runa’s hand to his lips and kissed it softly, his eyes lingering on hers for a moment. They had been together for most of their lives. It would not be an easy thing to leave her, but then he thought of Morana, and Evaine, and the promise of the future, and he smiled.

  41

  ‘You took your time,’ Thorgils grumbled, as Jael crept into the room. His stomach had tortured him with hunger pains, joining the misery of his back and the ache of his head.

  ‘I got waylaid by Ivaar,’ she grumbled back, then wished she hadn’t said anything; she didn’t want to start another argument. But one look at the bread Jael pulled from her cloak, and Thorgils forgot all about her much-discussed and forever-maligned, Ivaar plan. The packets of cheese, dried fish, and salt pork she took out of her pockets, made him even happier.

  ‘It’s still warm!’ he exclaimed gleefully, grabbing the bread.

  Eadmund groaned and rustled about on the bed, starting to wake up. They both froze and held their breaths. Jael frowned at Thorgils, who looked sheepish and shrugged back. Eadmund was certainly easier to manage when his eyes were closed, and he wasn’t trying to escape; they hoped to keep him that way as much as possible.

  Jael kept her cloak on as she sat in front of the fire; despite the height of the flames, the room was bitterly cold. Thorgils helped himself to the only plate-like object he could find and came to sit beside her. He ripped off some of the bread, smiling again; there was nothing he loved more than warm bread. He made himself a serving of bread, fish, pork, and cheese, and shovelled into his mouth, or at least half of it made its way in there; the rest lingered in his beard for him to collect later.

  ‘I’m not sure I brought enough,’ Jael observed as Thorgils started filling the plate again.

  He paused, mid-chew, and picked up the loaf, handing it over to her.

  Jael tore off a corner. She was just as hungry as he was but felt too tired and preoccupied to eat much. ‘When do you think I need to give him another dose?’ she wondered, looking over at the large, sleeping lump.

  ‘I say as soon as he wakes. If there’s any chance of it helping, you need to get more of it into him and quickly,’ he mumbled, studying her worried face. ‘What did Ivaar say?’

  Jael sighed. ‘He wanted to go riding again.’

  ‘And you said?’ Thorgils leaned forward, his voice an irritated whisper.

  ‘I said, maybe in a day or so,’ she glared at him. ‘We have enough to worry about right now without another Ivaar argument, don’t we?’

  ‘We do, yes,’ Thorgils agreed. ‘Let’s forget about him for now then. Focus on the nicer brother.’

  Jael smiled at that and handed back the bread, which Thorgils had been drooling over. ‘Shall I go back and ask Biddy to make another loaf?’

  ‘At least.’

  ‘Not long till Vesta’s Feast,’ Ivaar grinned at his father as he sat down by the fire.

  Eirik’s shoulders drooped, matching his already miserable face. ‘Mmmm.’

  Despite the dullness in her father’s voice, Eydis’ eyes lit up. ‘Ooohh, I can’t wait!’ she squealed, feeling a rush of joy for the first time in weeks. ‘That is something to look forward to!’

  Isaura didn’t look as enthused as she bent down to stop Leya poking a stick into her brother’s ear. ‘At least the days will start to get longer again. More chance for the children to play outside.’

  ‘Well, there’s something to look forward to,’ Ivaar said pointedly to his wif
e, who ignored him, and reached down to take the stick away from her very persistent daughter, who promptly started wailing.

  ‘You always love Vesta, Father,’ Eydis said excitedly. ‘Why not this year? The games, the feasts, the singing. It’s the best part of winter!’

  Eirik sighed. ‘Well yes, apart from the fact that Morac usually organises all of that. Without him, I have no idea what to do.’

  ‘Oh.’ Eydis looked heartbroken.

  ‘I can help if you like?’ Isaura said shyly as she scooped Leya up to try and stop her tears. ‘Help you organise everything, I mean. I used to plan our own Vesta on Kalfa, much like the ones I remember here. Just a smaller version.’

  ‘She did,’ Ivaar agreed. ‘It always went well, from memory. You should let her help you, Father.’

  Eirik stood up and allowed himself half a smile. ‘Well, yes, I’m sure that whatever help you can manage, it will be double any poor show I might come up with by myself.’

  ‘Good,’ Isaura said, her eyes blinking nervously, unsure what she had just walked into. ‘I’ll shepherd the children off with the servants, and we can talk over some ideas.’

  ‘Mmmm,’ Eirik nodded, only half listening as he wandered over to the fire. He was wondering how to go about making peace with Morac. It had taken a while for him to realise that he’d been harsh; harsher than was fair. But how was he going to heal the gaping wound? They were both far too old to let things fester this long. He would have to go and see him.