Night of the Shadow Moon

by A. E. Rayne

  He knew where they were.

  ‘The spires! The spires!’ Snorri shouted, trying to get Bram’s attention, his voice quickly lost in a shower of seawater.

  But Bram had heard him, and his head was up, spinning around, following the line of Snorri’s nodding head. Snorri couldn’t take his hands off the tiller, or he’d lose control of the ship altogether.

  Another jagged flash of lightning illuminated the sky, and Bram saw them: the towering stones that marked the entrance to Oss’ harbour.

  And they were full of sail and storm and flying towards them.

  He gulped, glancing down at the dreamer. He’d abandoned the gods entirely when they had taken away his family and most of his village, but he found himself begging them to save them all. To save them from the threat behind them and now the even more terrifying one rushing up to meet them.

  And below his arms, the dreamer rocked back and forth, mumbling, chanting, gripping her stones. Her eyes closed against the storm.

  ‘Fuck!’ Villas’ eyes were wide with horror as he grabbed the tiller from the man who had given him a break. He could no longer feel the right side of his body and the skin on his calloused hands was ripped raw. He gritted his teeth, feeling the rough wood dig into his fingers again. ‘Fuck!’

  Thorgils was next to him. They were approaching the entrance to the harbour fast.

  ‘Reef the sail!’ Villas yelled into the squall. ‘Reef the sail!’

  Thorgils watched as his men raced out of the house, slipping and stumbling towards the sail, rolling it higher, making it smaller.

  They needed to slow down.

  Villas jerked the tiller back and forth, trying to create some drag.

  It didn’t matter if they were caught now. Any ship approaching those stones in these waves with this speed had no chance.

  ‘Reef the sail!’ Snorri screamed to his sodden, terrified men who had all seen fleeting glimpses of the jagged stones, and the high cliffs on either side that were funnelling them straight into Oss’ harbour.

  Whether onto or around those stones was yet to be determined.

  Bram’s eyes were up, blinking as one of their chasers crested a wave, then disappeared from view. He kept staring into the darkness, looking for clues in the flashes of light. There were definitely only two sails now, but those two sails were getting closer quickly.

  Ayla sucked in a salty breath, coughing as she fell forward, gasping for air.

  Bram bent over, grabbing her arm as she started to slide away from him. He sought her eyes, which would not focus on his at all, looking for signs as to what had happened.

  Ayla tried to stand, and Bram pulled her to him. ‘I must see my husband!’ she cried.

  ‘What happened?’ Bram wondered urgently, but Ayla said nothing, keeping her head down, her eyes away from his as he helped her towards Bruno.

  He appeared unconscious, which Ayla was grateful for. She laid her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around him to stop herself sliding away as the ship reared up again, thunder roaring further in the distance now.

  Isaura could hear the panic in the crew’s voices as they staggered around on deck, sliding in and out of the house. She’d glanced through some of the holes in the wall and seen why.

  Her mind raced ahead, planning what she needed to do if they were to break up on the rocks.

  Four children. Three women.

  ‘Ida!’ she called to the woman closest to her. ‘If anything happens, you’ll take Annet! Selda, you’ll take Selene! I’ll keep Mads and Leya!’ She peered down the end of the house as Thorgils entered, sliding down to her. ‘Thorgils!’

  He looked ill with worry.

  ‘We’re coming in too fast!’ he cried, not having any time to be discreet. The children were awake and terrified by the noise of the storm and the violent rolling of the ship. There was no point in pretending that they weren’t in serious danger. ‘If we hit the rocks...’ He shook his head, swallowing, not wanting to imagine what was about to happen. ‘Give me one of the children!’ he urged, glancing around at the terrified, shaking women who rocked with the ship, banging against one another. ‘We’ll all keep a child with us! We can get to the rocks! Wait for the storm to pass!’

  It wasn’t true. Isaura could see it in his eyes.

  ‘Just hold the children tightly!’ he pleaded, grabbing Leya who didn’t protest as he tucked her into his wet chest. ‘Don’t let them go now! If we hit, the impact will be hard!’

  There was nothing more he could do.

  Villas had men in the bow, Thorgils knew. Men on the gunwales, all of them lashed to the ship, just as Villas was tied to the tiller now. He knew those spires better than most. Snorri too. They were old helmsmen, navigating the entrance to the harbour since they had barely any hair on their faces.

  If anyone was going to have a chance of getting them in safely, it was Villas and Snorri.

  Another crack of lightning and Thorgils shuddered, staring down the length of the house towards the prow as the stone spires loomed like terrifying demons in the darkness. He turned to Isaura, forcing his face into a smile, wanting to reach out and bring her into his arms too, but she needed to keep Mads safe in hers.

  His eyes didn’t leave her as he fought to keep himself from sliding.

  ‘We’ll be on the beach in no time,’ he soothed, feeling his body shake in protest. ‘And then we can think about finding a big fire to get you dry, and something hot to eat. Maybe soup. Do you like soup?’

  Isaura stared at Thorgils, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was unable to lift a hand to wipe them away. She rocked and swayed, her oddly silent son lay still in her arms, his eyes filled with terror.

  What had she done?

  Bram stood, tied to the prow, getting a face full of seawater as he tried to make out their distance from the spires. He spat the water back out, turning to Snorri who shook as he struggled with the tiller.

  They were edging up to Ice Breaker, following Villas in.

  It was up to Villas to lead them safely through the jagged stones.

  Ayla, lying over Bruno’s chilled body, whispered in his ear. ‘My love, my love, my love.’ She closed her eyes, feeling the sobs rise up in her chest, desperately trying to hold on as the ship rocked, forcing her to loosen her grip on her husband. But whatever was about to happen, she was determined that they were never going to be apart again.

  And then a shard of lightning hit the deck, barely a hand from where Ayla and Bruno lay.

  Ayla screamed.

  Then the ship dropped.

  Eadmund froze, staring across the harbour to the spires in the distance. Storm crowded for so long and almost disappearing under a thick bank of clouds, they were suddenly visible.

  The sky had cleared, and the clouds had vanished, revealing a landscape of stars, and a sliver of moon illuminating the entrance to the harbour.

  And two ships.

  Eadmund sighed in relief.

  Thorgils.

  Thorgils ducked out of the house, hurrying towards Villas, whose mouth was as open as his. ‘What happened?’ He looked around blankly, confused.

  The sea had dropped. The white-capped waves were suddenly timid, barely rolling. The sky was no longer on top of them. It was calm, clear, sprinkled with stars.

  The storm had disappeared in the blink of an eye.

  Villas shook his head, his eyes never veering from what was in front of them. The storm may have passed, but it was still dark, and there was still the matter of the spires.

  Bram glanced at Ayla as she stood and looked around, her mouth open, her eyes rounded in surprise.

  It was dark, but the light from the stars and the moon showed them all that the storm had gone. It was suddenly so peaceful, so quiet. The wind was there, but it was helpful rather than angry now, and their approach to the spires seemed slightly less daunting.

  But then, as Ayla turned to look at the ships following closely in their wake, a shower of arrows shot towards her.


  ‘No!’ Ivaar reached out and stopped the man who was pulling his bowstring to his ear again. ‘No!’ He turned around to Borg Arnesson. ‘My children might be on that ship! You had better not kill my children if you want that gold!’

  Borg looked barely bothered, despite the terror they’d all endured; despite the odd disappearance of the worst storm he’d ever encountered at sea. His luck was in, and he was ready to ride it. ‘No more arrows! Just get us through those fucking stones!’ Borg yelled to his helmsman, then turned to his men. ‘And prepare to land fast!’

  He looked to his left, pleased to see that one of his ships was still with them. The other had disappeared into the waves, which was a loss, but one they could weather, he was sure.

  Ivaar frowned, wanting to vomit after the wild ride they had just survived; furious that Thorgils had stolen his wife and children away; ready to destroy both him and Eadmund and take his rightful place as King of Oss. But above all, he was anxious, remembering the words of the old dreamer, the Arnesson’s mother. ‘The cautious man will wear the crown. The foolish man will sink and drown.’

  He turned to Borg Arnesson, whose dark-blue eyes were full of manic energy, fuelled by their brush with death and the reward that waited behind Oss’ stones. ‘Wait!’ he cried.

  19

  Sevrin and Torstan were at Eadmund’s side. The warning bell had rung loudly around the fort, and with the sudden retreat of the storm, they’d all heard it. The ramparts were lined with grim-faced men; on edge, peering into the darkness, watching the faint shapes edging around the spires.

  ‘What do you think?’ Sevrin wondered. He couldn’t stand still, feeling an urgent need to do something.

  Eadmund bit his teeth together.

  He knew his brother. Ivaar was too clever to attack Oss with only two ships, surely? Unless he had more coming that they couldn’t see yet. ‘Light the warning fires!’ he called, turning to the nearest man. ‘Take five men and get down the island. Bring back anyone who wants to shelter in the fort! Torstan, go to the hall, get the fires burning high. Send Ketil into the square. We need fires, as many as we can! Sevrin, send a group of men down to the drying sheds. Gather all the fish in now!’ He glanced around, happy to see another of his friends. ‘Erland, organise water! Find any empty buckets and barrels. Bring them into the square. Get the buckets up to the ramparts!’

  Eadmund squinted into the distance. Arlo, one of his most experienced archers, was squeezing his way along the narrow ramparts towards his king. ‘Get your men ready. And light the braziers up here! If they storm the beach, we burn them!’

  Morac staggered up the steep steps from the gatehouse below. ‘My lord?’ he panted. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

  Eadmund’s mind went quickly to Evaine and Sigmund. ‘Go to the hall. Prepare it as our last defense. If they get through the gates, we’ll retreat there.’

  Morac nodded, his face reflecting the stark reality of their situation.

  If Ivaar got in with enough men, he knew that not one of them would survive.

  Eydis woke up crying.

  Her whimpering was so faint that it didn’t wake anyone but Jael. ‘Eydis?’ Jael whispered, shivering as she leaned over her. The storm had passed, but it was still bitterly cold, which was not unusual for Tuura, she knew, no matter what the season. ‘Did you have a bad dream?’

  Eydis shook as Jael pulled the furs up to her chin. ‘It’s Ivaar,’ she breathed. ‘Ivaar is going to attack Oss.’

  Jael blinked, panic flickering in her chest.

  Eadmund.

  Bram crouched over the bleeding body of the dreamer.

  Her eyes flickered open. Big, dark pupils jumped out of a pale face; confused, full of fear.

  ‘It’s alright,’ he assured her gently. ‘We’ll get that arrow out of your leg. Best you stay down, though, in case they decide to try again.’

  Ayla’s ears were ringing; the searing pain in her leg was a sudden, unpleasant surprise. She tried to move, worried about Bruno.

  ‘Stay down!’ Bram growled as he crawled away towards Snorri.

  ‘How is she?’ Snorri asked, his eyes never deviating as he squinted into the darkness, almost missing the bursts of brightness that the lightning had afforded him.

  ‘She’ll live,’ Bram muttered, watching as they passed by another towering stone, holding his breath as they approached the last narrow gap they needed to shoot through. ‘If you get us through here in just the one piece that is!’

  ‘Trying,’ Snorri said through gritted teeth, pulling the tiller hard to the right, wondering if he’d have any skin left on his hands soon. ‘Lucky for me, Villas is up there doing all the hard work.’

  Bram turned back to look at their chasers and was surprised to see them drifting away.

  All four children were wailing now; each one being comforted by an adult who felt just as terrified but was trying not to show it. The only true comfort would come when the ship was beached, Thorgils knew. He held his breath, hoping it would happen soon; watching down the end of the house as they edged past the last spire.

  Breathing out heavily, he turned in the opposite direction, relieved to see Red Ned still following in their wake.

  Thorgils smiled at Isaura. ‘We’re through the spires!’ he called, trying to cheer the children. ‘Now we head for the beach, and soon we’ll be in the fort, and you can all have something hot to drink around a blazing fire!’

  The children cried even harder.

  Isaura wasn’t crying, but she looked just as upset. The fear of the spires may have passed, but the fear of Ivaar was looming again. She glanced towards the end of the house. ‘Is Eadmund expecting us?’ she asked, pointing to the fires burning down the headland.

  Thorgils squinted. ‘Looks like it.’ He frowned, noticing how far along the fires were burning.

  Signals.

  Signals to the men stationed at Tatti’s Bay, guarding their fleet; to the men at Hud’s Point, whose farmsteads would be threatened by any invasion, for surely Ivaar would not be foolish enough to only attack through the harbour.

  He must have more ships. More men.

  Aleksander was in Andala, watching Jael walk Tig around the training ring.

  She was bursting with pride at how well he was responding to her for a change. She had him under complete control, basking in the rare smile of approval on her father’s face as he stood watching with Gant. As always, their heads were together, muttering away to one another, thinking of more ways to help improve both her and him.

  The little girl came towards him, straight through the training ring, not noticing Jael or Tig at all. And suddenly the sky darkened. Thunderous clouds hovered low, rushing at him.

  She was younger than Eydis, Aleksander was sure, and she was talking, staring at him; her face determined, frowning.

  Urgent and demanding.

  He leaned forward, trying to hear her as she strode closer and her voice rose. She was small, with dark, curling hair, and a tiny, heart-shaped face, but her voice...

  That was not the voice of a girl, but the booming cry of a woman.

  ‘When all old kings are murdered,

  When ravens claim the sky,

  When oceans rage with monsters,

  Then all of you will die!

  Unless you find the Daughter,

  Unless you find the Son,

  Unless you find the Sword and Shield,

  You will be overrun!

  They’ll raise her from her tomb,

  They’ll raise up all her men,

  They’ll give to her the Book,

  And bring the Darkness back again!

  ‘Go!’ she yelled, pointing at him. ‘Leave this place now! You will all die! Jael will die! Heed my words, Aleksander! You must keep her safe! Go from this place! Now!’

  Aleksander jerked awake, panting in the darkness, shivering, wet with sweat.

  At the first crunch of sand against the keel, Thorgils was jumping down into the dark water with the
rest of his men, dragging Ice Breaker up onto the beach. Bram’s ship, Red Ned, wasn’t far behind and soon Oss’ beach was full of sodden, shell-shocked men, a few shaking women, a handful of crying children and an enormous sense of relief as they all welcomed the feel of stones beneath their wet boots.

  All but Ayla and Bruno, who could not walk at all, so they were handed over the side of the ship.

  ‘Ayla!’ Isaura rushed to her, leaving the children with her servants.

  An arrow was sticking out of Ayla’s thigh, and although a ripped piece of tunic had been tied above it, her leg was dripping with blood.

  ‘Quick!’ Isaura called to Thorgils. ‘We have to get Ayla up to the fort!’

  Thorgils nodded, turning back to check the entrance to the harbour once more. But there were no ships coming.

  Not yet, at least.

  Eadmund was hurrying across the stones towards them, Torstan beside him, a handful of Osslanders rushing past them to help unload the ships. They needed to get everything and everyone inside: sea chests, weapons, sails, oars. They couldn’t do much about the ships except beach them, but they could take everything else.

  Villas and Snorri looked as though they were ready to fall over. They stumbled across the stones, unsure on their feet, their salt-dry throats already considering whether there’d be a cup of ale on offer, despite the fact that they were too tired to keep their eyes open.

  ‘You made it then?’ Eadmund muttered as he picked up Annet and started walking across the beach towards the hill.

  Thorgils was still in shock at how the storm had simply vanished; amazed that they had made it home in one piece. ‘I think the gods had a hand in that,’ he said quietly. ‘What other explanation is there? That storm was about to sink us, I’m sure.’ He suddenly realised that he was carrying an open-eared little girl in his arms. ‘Although, we would have been fine,’ he said quickly. ‘We can all swim, can’t we?’ He tickled Leya under her chin, and she frowned back at him.