The Burning Sea (The Furyck Saga: Book Two)

by A. E. Rayne

  ‘It is, I agree. And I fear what it means for Brekka, but what can we do?’ He ducked his head, realising that he shouldn’t say any more. ‘Stay safe, Gisila, and do not give up. Ranuf would not want you to.’

  Gisila took a deep breath as Rexon boosted her up and over the side of the ship, his words ringing in her ears.

  Edela knocked loudly on Entorp’s door. She felt a burst of energy, smiling at Biddy, who stood alongside her, not smiling, desperate to get out of the rain as it slid down her legs into her boots.

  Entorp finally opened the door, half asleep and thoroughly confused. ‘Oh, come in, come in,’ he mumbled, blinking himself awake as Edela and Biddy bustled past him. ‘I’m so sorry. I appear to have drifted off in my chair. I didn’t hear you over all this rain.’

  The women shook themselves by the door as Entorp reached out for their cloaks. ‘Here, let me dry these by the fire.’ He glanced at the fire, which had gone out. ‘Well, once I light it again,’ he blushed, further embarrassed.

  ‘Let me do that,’ Biddy insisted, already hunting for his tinderbox, which she quickly spotted on a leaning shelf. ‘You need to listen to Edela.’

  Entorp showed Edela to a chair by the dead, cold fireplace. He had not slept well for the past few nights, haunted by old nightmares, and had not realised how tired he had become. ‘Sit down, please,’ he murmured, stifling a yawn. ‘And tell me what has happened.’

  Edela remained standing, smiling, her blue eyes sparkling brightly in the dull room. ‘I saw the symbol!’ she said excitedly. ‘I had a dream about that Tuuran book. I saw the symbol that will break the binding spell. I can draw it!’

  Entorp’s eyes widened, and he hurried to his table, Edela right behind him. He found another scrap of vellum, covered with various scrawls and symbols he had been practising, but there was enough space for one more. ‘Here,’ he said, uncorking his pot of ink and grabbing one of the many quills that littered the table.

  Edela took the quill, dipped it into the ink and started drawing. When she had finished, she stepped back and cocked her head to one side. ‘Yes, that’s it! That’s the symbol that can break the spell Evaine has put on Eadmund!’

  Entorp frowned. He did not recognise the symbol at all, but its characteristics did not look unfamiliar. He picked up the vellum, carrying it to a lamp he had left burning on a small stool next to his bed. ‘This looks promising,’ he surmised. ‘But we must decide where to put it.’

  ‘We need to get into Runa’s house,’ Edela said carefully. ‘It must be carved in there. That’s where Evaine is casting that spell every morning.’

  ‘It does,’ Entorp agreed. ‘Ideally right near where she is doing it. But somewhere she won’t see. She needs to keep chanting away to herself without realising that nothing is happening.’

  ‘Runa will have to get her out of the house,’ Biddy added, sitting back as flames burst into life around the half-burned wood. ‘And keep her out while you work. That won’t be easy.’

  ‘No,’ Edela agreed. ‘We must think of something to help her. Something that will convince Evaine to leave the house willingly.’

  Evaine was growing more irritable by the day. She paced the main room, Sigmund gurgling over her shoulder, dribbling onto the cloth she had placed over her dress. Tanja’s mother was ill, and she had been absent for the last few days. Even Runa was hardly around, always filled with the need to visit the market, or to call in to check on a friend who was ill.

  A lot of people were suddenly ill.

  But more than that, more than her irritation with the constant, nagging demands of her son, and the absence of any real help, was her worry over Eadmund. She was growing frustrated, barely sleeping, waking early, lighting her candle, reciting her spell.

  But for what?

  How did she know if it was still having an effect? He was with her, alone, every day, with his wife.

  Evaine sighed, frowning so hard her head hurt. She would have to start doing the ritual three times a day, when no one was home. She could not let Eadmund slip away from her again.

  34

  Eadmund fingered the pommel of his sword as his men hurried about Ice Breaker, bringing down the sail and yard, handing out the oars. They were entering Hest’s harbour, following Haegen’s ship. His eyes drifted to the rock-like castle, chiselled into the cliffs, as it loomed before them. Mighty and vast though it appeared, he felt wistful for his small fort on Oss. As a man, and now, a king, he had no appetite for such opulence, no desire to take what other men had. Not land nor power.

  Eadmund wanted to be a king who kept his people safe and prosperous, but ultimately happy. What part wealth would play in that, for now, he did not know, nor care. He just wanted to get home and begin.

  He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Ivaar on their journey; about how he would kill him and avenge his father. He felt annoyed that he had not done it in Saala, or on Skorro. Then it would have been done. But, Eadmund conceded, reluctantly, Jael was probably right; they would have struggled for support. Now though, the lords appeared on their side. There was more of a chance they would back his actions against Ivaar, he was sure.

  Especially if he could find proof.

  Varna held her breath as she stood behind Haaron. Meena shuffled about beside her, bobbing up and down, desperate for a glimpse of Jaeger, eager to know that he was unharmed.

  Varna just wanted to know what had happened to the book. She coughed, listening to the familiar old rattle echo around her chest. The book... to think that it had finally surfaced. In her lifetime. She shook her head, smiling, then peered at Meena and frowned. ‘Stop all that jiggling about, girl!’ she hissed, pinching Meena’s arm.

  Bayla turned around and glared at them both, furious that Haaron had allowed them to be there; certain that Varna was up to something with that odd girl. She inhaled sharply, her nostrils flaring in distaste, and turned back around. ‘Why are they here?’ she grumbled at Haaron.

  ‘Varna has been with me my whole life,’ Haaron muttered coldly. ‘All of Berard’s, all of Jaeger’s. She is part of the family, wouldn’t you say?’

  The horrified look on Bayla’s face told him that, no, she wouldn’t. She continued to watch from the pier as the ships were steadily rowed towards their moorings. ‘If they have hurt my sons...’ she began.

  ‘If they have hurt our sons, it will be nothing more than they deserve,’ Haaron growled, his voice rolling over hers. ‘For losing my fleet? All those men? My island fort? My Tower? My gold!’ He swallowed quickly, trying to control his temper as it burst into flames. ‘Jaeger and Berard should consider themselves fortunate that their father is a man wealthy enough to pay for their freedom. But it is they who will pay for their mistakes, eventually.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ Bayla asked sharply. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Haaron fixed his eyes ahead and ignored her.

  Bayla bit her lip, nodding irritably at Lothar Furyck who kept smiling at her.

  Lothar was so hungry that he could barely see straight. He was desperate for his hall and his throne and his wife, but most of all, he was desperate for his cooks. Never before had a king been treated so poorly, he decided. His trousers were hanging off him, and he was too weak to even think properly. But, he tried to console himself, this suffering was going to be worth it in the end, when Brekka’s borders reached all the way to the Valgeir Sea. And once Helsabor was his, then he would set his sights on Iskavall. He was looking forward to that, especially after what had happened there.

  Lothar tidied his beard, ignoring his hunger pains, and smiled as the first of the ships gently nudged the pier, oars in the air.

  Gant stood silently next to him, frowning. Only two ships. What had Jael done with the rest of their fleet? He felt Axl straining his neck as he stood, waiting impatiently behind him, desperate to see his sister, no doubt eager to talk to her about rescuing Amma.

  If only he could see that there was no hope.

  Jael sighed
as she jumped down onto the pier, waiting for Eadmund to join her, watching the gathered crowd watch her. She saw Axl with Gant and felt a lift. Relieved. There was no Gisila or Amma, though.

  Axl nodded at Jael.

  He looked ready to cry, Jael thought, as Lothar hurried to make a fool of himself, embracing her as she stood there, arms at her side, frowning impatiently, irritated by his ridiculous show of false affection.

  ‘You have made the right decision,’ Lothar whispered in her ear. ‘Now, beware your tongue. Don’t let it get us all in trouble.’ Standing back, Lothar reached out a hand for Eadmund. ‘My lord!’ he said loudly. ‘My nephew! Even my son-in-law, Jael being my daughter now!’

  Eadmund smiled briefly, ignoring his wife’s face, which he was certain had twisted itself into an intense scowl. ‘My lord king,’ he said shortly.

  ‘Come, come!’ Lothar said cheerfully. ‘Let me introduce you to our new partner. Our alliance will now grow stronger, our reach even greater as we claim all of Osterland for ourselves!’

  Jael fought the urge to open her mouth. Lothar was full of hot breath and farts and little else. She reluctantly followed him towards the Dragos family who were in the midst of welcoming back Jaeger and Berard.

  Jaeger stilled, his eyes on Jael.

  His father’s fingers gripped his arm sharply, his voice, blade sharp in his ear. ‘You will not even think of it,’ Haaron hissed, releasing Jaeger and stepping away to greet his guests.

  ‘The King and Queen of Oss!’ Lothar announced grandly, feeling more confident now that he was no longer a prisoner.

  ‘My lord, lady,’ Haaron nodded, working hard at a smile that did not reach his eyes. ‘I’m sorry to hear that your father is now with Vidar, although that is a fate that many of us would welcome at this stage in our lives,’ he muttered to Eadmund, trying not to scowl.

  ‘What did you do to my son?’ Bayla snarled at Jael. ‘He cannot even stand on his own!’

  Jael attempted to look surprised. ‘Which one?’ she asked. ‘I can’t keep up with how many of your sons I have injured now.’

  Bayla clamped her teeth together, her eyes bulging in fury as Haaron quickly grabbed her hand.

  ‘It was a battle, my dear,’ he said tightly. ‘Be thankful that a few cuts are all they have. It could have been far worse, I’m sure.’

  They came forward then, Berard and Karsten, with Haegen helping Jaeger to limp along. Karsten’s one eye didn’t leave Jael’s face. He curled his lips in disgust. He wanted to reach out and stab her through the heart. The bitch. The one who had taken his eye.

  ‘Hello, Karsten,’ Jael smiled. ‘I like your eye patch.’

  Karsten reached down for his sword, gripping the hilt, his knuckles white.

  Eadmund ignored him and turned to Haaron. ‘Perhaps, if I could see to our men, my lord. Find where they are to sleep?’

  ‘Of course. Karsten will show you.’ Karsten frowned, less than thrilled with that task. ‘And you will release the Brekkans while you’re there. Now that we have made our exchange, there are to be no more prisoners here. Only allies.’ It was hard to say, but this alliance would bring greater reward than he had ever anticipated.

  If only he could stop his sons from trying to kill Jael Furyck.

  ‘I can’t.’ Runa shook at the mere thought of it. ‘I can’t, Edela! I can’t!’

  ‘Runa,’ Edela soothed, smiling encouragingly as she patted her shaking hand. ‘If we are to stop Evaine, we need to end her control over Eadmund. If she controls Eadmund, then everything around here will change. For the worse.’

  Runa could see that, even as she shuddered at the thought of what Edela and Biddy were planning with Entorp. ‘But she won’t believe me. She will wonder why I am trying to take her out of the house all of a sudden. Why I would choose to spend time with her.’

  ‘Not if you dangle a tasty carrot in front of her,’ Biddy suggested, kneeling in front of the fire as she rubbed the freshly washed Ido with an old blanket. ‘And the idea of going to the tailors will surely appeal, especially if you tell her that Edela has seen Eadmund on his way back to Oss.’

  Runa was shaking so much that she almost spilt the cup of small ale she had been resting on her knee. ‘Of course, it would spur her on, the thought of Eadmund returning,’ she sighed, finally taking a sip from her cup. ‘If only I can convince her that my intentions are genuine.’

  ‘It will be easy enough,’ Edela smiled, ‘if you think about Sigmund. You have affection for the boy, so that will come through, I’m sure.’

  Runa blinked nervously.

  ‘And Fyn,’ Biddy added. ‘Think of Fyn. You can do this for him, too.’

  Runa sighed and closed her eyes.

  Fyn.

  ‘Stay close,’ Jael murmured as Fyn’s eyes roamed the high, stone walls of the castle. ‘Don’t get lost or one of those Dragos’ might eat you!’ She smiled as she walked behind Haaron.

  Eadmund nudged her, his finger to his lips.

  Jael ignored him. She didn’t want to be here, pretending to be a queen. Perhaps her father had been right to choose Axl? Diplomacy was not something that came naturally to her, if at all.

  Fyn resisted the urge to stop and stare, but just the entranceway of Haaron’s castle was longer than any building they had on Oss and four times as tall. He hurried to keep up with Jael, listening to the soft thud of his boots as he walked across the cool flagstones. His mouth hung open as they turned into the hall. Great, round, iron frames filled with candles hung down from the ceiling. Torches burned from sconces along each wall. The cavernous room was filled with tables, set in the shape of a horseshoe; so many tables, filled with cups and jugs, and plates of food that looked hot and smelled delicious. Fyn was suddenly aware that it was well past any time he would normally have hoped to eat. He thought of his mother then, hoping that she was not suffering too much with Evaine and her crying baby for company, and soon, his father as well. Blinking, he looked at Axl, whose face was bereft as he trudged along, oblivious to everything except the pain in his heart.

  Jaeger limped ahead of them. He watched the slaves milling about with jugs of wine, saw more trays of food being delivered to the tables, but he had no appetite. His stomach lurched nauseously, as though he were still at sea. He could feel his father’s eyes, scornful and disappointed, as they sought his. His mother would not leave him alone, fussing over him constantly. Haegen on his other side, grimaced with the strain of holding him up, trying to assure Bayla that he would recover in time.

  Haaron stopped and turned to his guests. ‘Please, take a seat,’ he instructed. ‘After being stuck on Skorro, I imagine you will appreciate some real food.’ He grimaced through the pleasantries, his attitude more like Jaeger and Karsten’s than he wanted to admit. But he was an old king, with not much life ahead of him now. And, as Lothar Furyck had ultimately proved, it was better to be clever than dead.

  Jael wanted to talk to anyone but Haaron, so she quickly chose a seat at the very end of the high table. Lothar frowned at his niece, but couldn’t catch her eye as he took a seat near the middle, wanting to keep as close to Haaron as possible.

  Axl sat next to Jael, and Eadmund next to him.

  Haegen deposited Jaeger next to Haaron, who looked less than pleased by the company, and Bayla quickly assumed her place next to her favourite child. The rest of the Dragos and Furyck families took their seats, their faces tense, apart from Lothar, who chatted happily to Haaron, his eyes focused entirely on his goblet, which was being filled with wine.

  ‘We need to talk,’ Axl whispered to his sister.

  ‘We will, of course,’ Jael whispered back. ‘Not here though, not now.’ She reached for her own goblet and gave it a sniff, wondering if Haaron had, in fact, lured them into a trap. It smelled like wine, though, and only wine. Taking a long drink, her eyes were quickly drawn to a strange, red-headed woman with big eyes. She stood against the opposite wall, amongst the expressionless, shaven-headed slaves, her eyes fixed on Jaeger a
s she tapped her head.

  Jael blinked herself away from the strange woman and smiled at the slave who delivered her plate, smiling even wider as she inhaled the plentiful meal, which glistened and steamed under the soft candlelight. A definite improvement on dried pork and salt fish.

  But still... they were in Hest.

  Runa eyed Tanja, who sat opposite her, feeding Sigmund. It had been a surprisingly mild day, but Runa had not stopped shivering since her talk with Edela.

  She had a dark-blue tunic draped over her knee. It was going to be a surprise for Fyn. She had been adding details to the sleeves, but it was getting dark now, and her eyes no longer responded to candlelight as they once had. Her fingers had not stopped jiggling either. Runa sighed and admitted defeat, putting down her needle and thread. ‘Evaine has been gone some time now,’ she muttered, folding up the tunic. ‘I do not think we should wait any longer. Once he has finished feeding, put him to bed and we will eat our supper.’

  Tanja looked less than thrilled by that idea. ‘Perhaps I should go to my mother’s house?’ she suggested nervously, her eyes wandering to the door. ‘Stay there tonight?’

  Runa froze. She didn’t blame Tanja for wanting to run away, but her company was comforting. Being left alone with Evaine was not.

  ‘But if you stay there, who will feed Sigmund in the night?’ Evaine asked sharply as she pushed open the door. ‘You know very well that I can’t anymore.’

  Both women jumped.

  ‘And surely you have spent enough of your day there?’ Evaine went on as she handed Respa her cloak. ‘I bumped into your sister while I was out. She said that your mother was much better now. That she had hardly been ill at all.’ She glared at Tanja, who looked quickly away, adjusting the position of Sigmund’s head on her breast.

  Evaine glanced at the meal waiting for them on the table. ‘Again?’ she grumbled. ‘Fish and eggs again?’