Night of the Shadow Moon

by A. E. Rayne

  But her body stirred as she sensed the anger in him cool and change. ‘No,’ she almost whispered, shaking her head. ‘No.’

  Jaeger lifted her chin, staring down at her, confused by his feelings. Why did he care so much about this strange little mouse?

  She was no beauty. No lady.

  She was nothing.

  Nicolene had been an entertaining plaything, but he had barely noticed she was even there, writhing beneath him, so eager to please.

  And when he’d closed his eyes, he’d seen Meena.

  Jaeger put his hands on either side of her face and kissed her passionately. ‘You’re not Berard’s, do you understand me, Meena?’ he grunted. ‘You’re not Berard’s. You’re mine. You belong to me.’

  Meena, her body limp, her lips as desperate as his, could only mumble back. ‘Yours.’

  ‘You killed him?’

  Jael nodded, ignoring the displeasure in her father’s voice. She pushed her shoulders back and stared at him.

  ‘And you think that was the right thing to do? Over a dog?’ Ranuf’s face was unreadable, but his voice was not.

  ‘She was my dog. You gave her to me!’

  ‘You think I don’t know that?’ he growled, his green eyes darkening as he glared down at her. ‘But I also know that Ronal was the son of my man. My man, who has now lost his last son!’

  ‘He was a useless pig. And a dog murderer!’ Jael jutted out her chin, furious at the reminder of what had happened; haunted by the last, pitiful sounds her dog, Asta, had made when Ronal slit her throat. He had waited until Jael was there, making her watch.

  The twisted bastard.

  Ranuf gripped Jael’s arm, pulling her closer. They were in the stables, but he could hear people approaching. ‘And you thought that it was your place to punish him?’ he hissed.

  ‘She was my dog!’ Jael was defiant. ‘He deserved it.’

  Ranuf sighed, his anger dissipating. His daughter’s temper was worse than his, he knew. And it would not serve her well if she allowed herself to be ruled by it. ‘Yes, she was,’ he said, more sympathetically now. ‘But it was my place to decide what to do about Ronal. Not yours. Not until you are queen here will you make those decisions yourself.’

  He’d said it so matter-of-factly that Jael had barely heard him but her body quickly stilled in shock.

  Ranuf raised a dark eyebrow. ‘That’s a surprise to you, is it? That you’re my heir?’ He laughed at the shock on her face. ‘Well, who else would it be, Jael?’ He dropped her arm and stepped back, studying his only daughter. She was tall and strong, with broad, straight shoulders and a permanent scowl on a face that was otherwise pleasing to look at. She had a sharp jaw, a pair of defiant green eyes – much like his – and a mouth that rarely curled into a smile.

  She was fiercesome.

  Fifteen years old and ready for battle, he was sure.

  But that temper...

  ‘And when you’re queen, you will need to take hold of your tongue and keep a grip on your sword arm because a queen’s decisions must be made without anger. Everyone will be looking for you to be fair. Decisive, but fair. No one should be led by a man or a woman who puts their own interests above everyone else’s.’

  Jael was still too stunned to speak. Her anger had been entirely swallowed by surprise.

  ‘So, yes, as a man, I would have killed the little bastard for what he did to Asta,’ Ranuf growled, his hairy lips pursing in anger. ‘But as a king, I cannot dispense justice for personal revenge. And nor will you be able to. Not if you are to rule for a long time, Jael. Kings and queens are dispensable. There is only so much your people will tolerate before you wake up in the night with a knife at your throat. Just ask the many dead kings of Iskavall.’

  But Jael wasn’t listening.

  Her father’s heir? Queen of Brekka?

  She couldn’t stop smiling.

  5

  Edela was still there.

  Still hanging on.

  Biddy felt her body relax, then tense again quickly. She was still there, but for how long?

  Entorp was listening to Edela’s chest, feeling the pulse in her wrist. ‘She’s stronger,’ he announced, at last, standing up with a growing smile. ‘Most definitely stronger.’

  The sigh of relief that weaved its way around the room was weary and deep.

  ‘What does that mean?’ Gisila asked, her eyes aching with the strain of holding them open. ‘Will she recover?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Entorp glanced at Biddy, who appeared just as uncertain as he did. He turned to Jael. ‘And she said Tuura? You’re sure that it was her, not that voice?’

  ‘It was Edela’s voice. The other voice was loud and screeching, but this was faint. Weak. Afraid.’

  ‘There is a book in Tuura that Edela mentioned,’ Entorp started, looking at Aleksander. ‘A book the elderman gave her. She left it behind, didn’t she?’

  Aleksander nodded. ‘It was supposed to help her save Jael.’ He frowned as he poked at the fire with a long, iron rod, trying to awaken the flames. ‘Well, that is what they told her at least.’

  ‘Do you think she wants us to take her back there?’ Axl wondered, not liking the sound of that idea. ‘To Tuura?’

  ‘Either that or she’s saying that Tuura did this to her somehow,’ Aleksander suggested.

  Biddy walked past Jael on her way to the kitchen, deciding that it was well past time to organise some breakfast. ‘Which one do you think it was then? You heard her say it. Perhaps you got a sense of her meaning?’

  They all looked at Jael, and her mind went completely blank.

  Thorgils had dragged Fyn down to the beach at first sight of the ship. He needed to prepare Eadmund for what he would find when he walked into the fort. He’d been lying awake for much of the night, imagining how he would react.

  How Jael would react in turn.

  Evaine against Jael was only ever going to go one way.

  Until Evaine had Eadmund on her side. And if she had truly bound him to her soul, he had no idea how Eadmund would react at all.

  But not well, was his guess.

  Eadmund, hanging onto Ice Breaker’s dragon prow, sighed in relief at the familiar sight of mist and gloom that greeted his homecoming. He was uneasy though. Oss didn’t feel like home without his father waiting for him, and his shoulders felt heavy with the sudden weight of responsibility. He was king now. A king who had made an enemy of the two biggest kingdoms in Osterland.

  And then there was the nagging problem of his brother.

  Eadmund yawned, reaching down to grip his little sister’s hand. ‘I’m going to lift you over the side, Eydis,’ he said. ‘Thorgils and Fyn are there, waiting for us.’

  Eydis’ milky eyes widened. She was anxious and had been since they’d left Jael behind on the sea. Her dreams had been confusing, and she felt an urgent need to see Edela, hoping that she was still alive. She swallowed nervously as Eadmund hoisted her into the air, feeling Thorgils’ firm grip around her waist as he eased her down onto the sandy foreshore.

  ‘Eydis!’ Thorgils boomed. ‘Let’s get you up to the fort before the rain comes down again!’

  Eydis frowned. Thorgils sounded strange.

  ‘Hello, Eydis!’ Fyn said quickly.

  Fyn sounded strange too. Both of them seemed awkward. Oddly loud.

  Eydis turned, listening for Eadmund, wanting to know what was happening. ‘Is it Edela? Is she dead?’ she asked frantically.

  ‘No, no!’ Thorgils shook his head, nodding at Eadmund as he joined them. He looked tired. Irritable even.

  That was not a good start.

  ‘What happened to Edela?’ Eadmund wondered, taking Eydis’ hand and helping her across the beach, his eyes focused on the familiar shape of the fort struggling out of the heavy morning clouds. His legs wobbled, and he thought of his father’s fur-lined throne. His throne now. ‘Jael had a dream that she’d been attacked. So did Eydis.’

  Fyn’s eyes dropped to the stones, Th
orgils’ quickly following.

  Neither of them spoke.

  ‘Evaine did it,’ Eydis said, feeling the tension in Eadmund’s hand as it tightened around hers.

  Eadmund stopped and turned to her. ‘What do you mean, Evaine did it? Why would she do such a thing?’ Just the feel of her name on his tongue had his whole body tingling. She was close. He could feel it. He ached with need to see her. To see their son.

  Thorgils and Fyn looked from Eydis to Eadmund.

  ‘Evaine did it,’ Eydis insisted again. ‘She hurt Edela. She wanted to kill her!’

  Eadmund narrowed his eyes into moody slits, staring at his sister who could not see how truly angry he was. ‘You dreamed it?’

  Eydis shook her head, her black braids swishing across her light-blue cloak. ‘No,’ she said, at last. ‘But I know she did!’

  Eadmund grunted and started walking again, irritated and confused as he hurried his sister along. ‘Well, you can’t accuse her, Eydis. Not without proof. You have no proof! You should keep your accusations to yourself,’ he grumbled. ‘Evaine would never try to murder someone. Why would she?’ He stared at Thorgils, who appeared to be paying particular attention to the stones as he walked. ‘Why would she?’

  Thorgils sucked in a deep breath. ‘Well, Eydis is a dreamer. She has a strong sense of things. You should listen to her, perhaps? And then there’s Biddy and Entorp... and Jael...’

  ‘What?’ Eadmund stopped again, his hazel eyes fierce as they fixed on Thorgils. ‘Jael? Jael thinks Evaine did this? Hurt Edela?’

  ‘Jael is a real dreamer!’ Fyn blurted out, unable to keep quiet any longer. ‘She knows it was Evaine!’

  Eadmund glared at Fyn, whose eyes quickly retreated beneath his floppy fringe of auburn hair. ‘She saw Evaine do it?’

  ‘Well, no,’ Fyn admitted meekly.

  ‘A real dreamer?’ Eadmund was confused. ‘Jael?’ He shook his head. ‘But if that were true, then two dreamers didn’t actually see Evaine do it. So, as it stands, there is no proof!’

  ‘No,’ Thorgils admitted. ‘But...’

  ‘But?’

  ‘Jael doesn’t appear to be looking for any. Not at the moment.’ Thorgils didn’t know how to say it. ‘She has...’

  ‘She has what?’

  ‘She has taken measures to ensure that Evaine doesn’t hurt anyone else.’

  Eadmund’s eyes popped open. He let go of Eydis’ hand and ran. ‘Take Eydis up to the house!’ he called over his shoulder as he headed for the hill, his bear-fur cloak flapping angrily behind him.

  ‘Well, that didn’t go quite as I’d hoped,’ Thorgils said awkwardly as he clasped Eydis’ hand and hurried her across the stones after their quickly disappearing king.

  Morana was distracted. Yorik smelled like valerian.

  She loved the smell of valerian.

  He barely knew that she was there, though, as he muttered to himself, checking over his shoulder, peering amongst the bushes as they walked higher and higher up the path that led away from the castle and into the winding gardens her mother had been so fond of.

  ‘You cannot take it from him,’ Yorik murmured, his hands busy as he walked. He was trying not to appear as impatient as he felt. They had come so far and were so close now. But he was also conscious of the need to take their time, to ensure that everything fell into place as it was meant to. Yorik was normally a measured man, but the sudden appearance of the Book of Darkness had unsettled him greatly. They were within reach of all they sought, but one false step... ‘We need him, not just the book, remember? And he must be filled with need for what only we can offer.’

  Morana glared at him, thoroughly frustrated by his constancy.

  Yorik had not changed much in the years since she had last seen him. He was a slight, sallow-skinned man of average height, nearing old age. His short, light-grey hair was tinged with the faint reminder that he had been red-haired once. His thin lips were now hidden beneath a generous amount of white stubble. There had never been anything remarkable about him at all, apart from his eyes, which were different colours: one pale blue, one dark green. They were so distinct from each other that most people found it unsettling to look at him directly.

  Morana did not.

  She sighed, quickly bored with talk of Jaeger. They had done nothing but speak of the Bear and how they would use him since her mother’s death. ‘His focus is on what the book can do to remove his father and brothers. He cares nothing for the gods, old or new. He cares only for himself! He wants to be a king, to crush his enemies. Nothing more. He is a thick-headed fool.’ She frowned, too warm in her woollen cloak; weary now from the steepness of the path. ‘And he does not trust me. He barely lets me look at the book! The ritual spell is difficult, and so far I have not been able to translate it. Not with him over my shoulder, breathing on me! He will not even let me write anything down. So, even if I did manage to translate it, what could I do about any of it?’

  Yorik stopped and turned to Morana as she unpinned her cloak, her fiery red face scowling at him. He smiled, nostalgic for her ornery temper and how it was for them all those years ago when they had made their daughter. Perhaps they had been in love once? He couldn’t remember. ‘Morana,’ he said softly. ‘When you show him what that book can do, he will trust you. How could he not? The power it can wield will intoxicate him, as it must.’

  Morana draped her cloak over her arm and glared at him through sheets of matted hair.

  ‘Make sure his mind remains on the book. That it is always near him,’ Yorik urged, brushing her hair away from her eyes before reaching down to kiss her cheek, his stubble brushing against her creased skin. ‘For, the closer he is to the book, the more of his soul it will claim. Like a desperate thirst, he will need to be with it, to be at one with it. The book revealed itself to Jaeger. It is meant for him, so we must clear his mind to all other thoughts.’

  Morana stared into Yorik’s uneven eyes. ‘I can do that,’ she smiled.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want some company?’ Aleksander asked as Jael grabbed Tig’s reins and led him out of the stables.

  Both horses had been kept inside by Askel under Biddy’s firm instruction since the attack on Edela, and Jael could tell that Tig was as desperate to clear his head as she was. He nickered impatiently next to her, swishing his tail in anticipation of a long-overdue ride.

  Jael shook her head. ‘I need to think. I can’t in there. I have to find a way back into that dream to see what Edela was really saying. Maybe riding will help? It always has in the past.’

  Aleksander nodded, his dark eyes tight with tension. ‘Well, don’t be long. We need to decide what to do. I’m not sure there’s time for much thinking.’

  Jael turned back to him, her face as tense as his. ‘I know. I won’t.’

  Aleksander watched her go, feeling the familiar ache in his chest. She was so far away from him now that he wondered if there was any way back?

  Putting all thoughts of Jael out of his mind, he sighed and walked towards the house, desperately worried for Edela.

  She meant so much to all of them.

  She couldn’t die.

  ‘Evaine!’ Eadmund ran towards the slumped figure chained to the Wailing Post.

  Evaine, sodden and miserable, pushed away her father who had been comforting her and stood, turning towards his voice. ‘Eadmund! Eadmund!’

  Morac stepped away from his daughter as Eadmund reached her, pulling her into his arms. He smiled smugly, watching as Jael approached with her horse.

  Now they would all see who the true ruler of Oss was.

  Evaine shivered and sobbed against Eadmund’s chest, certain that she had not endured a more horrific night in her life. Her ankle was aching where she was shackled. Her body, numb from the cold and rain, shook uncontrollably.

  She was desperate to escape the humiliation. Eager to sit in front of a fire.

  Thorgils and Fyn hurried through the square after Eadmund, Eydis between them. Thorgils’ eye
s went immediately to Jael who was standing there, holding Tig’s reins, her face unreadable.

  Eadmund’s wasn’t, though, as he caught sight of his wife. ‘Morac,’ he said coldly. ‘Stay with Evaine.’

  ‘Eadmund, no!’ Evaine begged, gripping his hand. ‘Please, release me! Don’t leave me here like this. I did nothing! Nothing! You can’t leave me here!’

  But Eadmund wasn’t listening or even looking at Evaine now. His eyes were fixed on Jael, and they were burning with anger. ‘Morac,’ he said again, nodding to the old man as he pulled Evaine out of his arms and strode towards Jael.

  ‘Thorgils?’ Eydis asked, wanting to know what was happening.

  Fyn sensed her confusion. ‘Eadmund is going to speak to Jael. About Evaine, I suppose.’ He shuddered, as he always did when he saw his sister. He had been hoping that she would remain chained up, but the look on Eadmund’s face told him that there wasn’t much hope of that.

  Eydis sighed. ‘Oh. Poor Jael.’

  Thorgils frowned, thinking how right Eydis was. He squeezed her cold hand. ‘How about we take you to see Edela? I’m sure Biddy will make you a hot cup of something to warm you up.’

  Eydis nodded reluctantly, allowing them to lead her away, past Jael and Eadmund who were silently eyeing each other up.

  Thorgils smiled encouragingly at Jael, but she didn’t notice. She was still reeling from the sight of Eadmund as he raced to comfort Evaine.

  Blinking suddenly, Jael thought of her father; her father, who had tried to teach her how to rule. And there she was, standing in the middle of the square, in the centre of a growing crowd of curious onlookers.

  And now she was a queen.

  A queen with a very bad temper.

  ‘Why don’t you get Leada?’ she suggested quickly as Eadmund approached, her fury simmering at a steady heat, just below the surface. ‘The things we need to say should remain between us, don’t you think?’

  Eadmund felt ready to burst but he had enough sense left to see the wisdom in that idea. ‘Alright. Wait here for me.’