by A. E. Rayne
She froze.
‘They want the book,’ Branwyn said tightly, her arm around Eydis.
Three temple guards stood there in dark-red tunics. Their faces were stern, their eyes emotionless; surprisingly unaffected by what had just occurred.
‘Your aunt is right,’ growled the tallest one as he stepped forward. ‘And you will show us where it is. Now.’
‘Book?’ Jael shrugged. ‘What book is that?’ Loosening her shoulders, she readjusted her cloak, exposing Toothpick’s moonstone pommel. Jael gripped it firmly, her eyes on the guard.
She felt Fyn tense before her, Aron on his right.
‘You know exactly what book. Now, give it to me,’ the guard ordered, glaring at her.
Jael was unmoved. ‘I would think that when addressing a queen you might try a different tack,’ she said coldly. ‘But then again, I suppose Tuura is not a place known for its manners. Men here tend to take without asking.’
The guard rose up on the balls of his feet, narrowing his gaze until his eyes almost disappeared. He really was a tall man, taller than Jael, and he used every bit of height he had to try and dominate her. ‘From thieves, yes.’
‘Thieves?’ Jael’s expression didn’t alter. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
The guards fingered their own swords.
No one moved.
‘Perhaps, my lady, it’s best that you come along with me? As my guards have said, there is the matter of the book, and what may have happened to it. If you would accompany me to the temple, we can discuss it there.’
Jael spun around, surprised to see Marcus standing in the doorway, ashen-faced but calm, his small, hooded eyes unblinking. He swallowed, and Jael could see the tension in his body reveal itself.
‘Of course,’ Jael said coolly. ‘Since you ask so nicely.’
And without looking back, she turned and followed him through the door.
A decision had to be made.
Eadmund clenched his jaw, still indecisive, but not wanting to appear so. He could see them all staring at him as he sat on his father’s throne.
His throne now.
It hadn’t been long since he’d been unable to even wake this early in the day, let alone sit before a hall full of men and women who were looking to him for leadership.
Everyone knew that Ivaar was coming now. But when and where and how?
A decision had to be made.
‘Ivaar would not go to Tatti’s Bay,’ Eadmund decided, at last, sharpening his focus as he watched Thorgils pull Isaura closer. ‘Not yet.’
Bram nodded in agreement.
‘If he’s gone anywhere, he’s gone around the headland, past Hud’s Point, or to Bara, which means that wherever he is, he’s not far away. If he’s joined with these Arnessons, maybe they’ll have six ships, maybe seven or eight. But they won’t go to Tatti’s Bay. Sevrin, send someone to the bay. Bring those men back fast. We can rebuild our ships but if we don’t hold the fort...’ That hadn’t reassured anyone, he realised, pushing himself upright. ‘We will hold the fort!’ he insisted.
‘And what of the queen, my lord?’ Otto grumbled, his weathered face anxious. ‘Can we not send to Tuura for her help?’
Eadmund was surprised to see that he appeared serious, ignoring the rise of Thorgils’ furry eyebrows that such a suggestion was coming out of Otto’s mouth. He felt an uncomfortable warmth on his cheeks as everyone stared at him; sensing Evaine’s pink lips purse irritably at just the mention of his wife’s name. ‘No...’ He shook his head, arguing with himself. ‘No,’ he said again. ‘We can’t afford to lose a crew now. We need all the men we have. Besides,’ he continued, trying to embellish his excuse, ‘we’d have to send a ship south, around the islands. It would be too risky to head past Bara. There’s no time to get Jael or the lords. They need to stay and protect the islands. ’
Evaine smiled triumphantly.
She sat next to Eadmund in Eydis’ small chair. She had organised a new one to be built for herself, but with all the disruption, and now, the threat of an attack, no one was doing anything except preparing the fort.
The hall fell silent.
The Osslanders were standing and watching Eadmund, desperate for answers; not satisfied with any he had provided so far.
‘We’ll have more men than Ivaar!’ Eadmund rose, strengthening his voice, carrying it to the far reaches of the hall; to those dark, smoky corners where the dissenters and grumblers like to sit and moan and gossip. ‘This is not his island, not his home! We will not let Oss fall! We need more arrows! We must bring everything into the fort to help us survive a siege. To protect all that we have. Do it now! Sharpen your weapons and keep your eyes open. If you find a weak spot, or a problem, bring it to my attention. We must pull together, and all do our part to keep Ivaar and his men at bay!’
There were murmurs of agreement, a few nodding heads, but a lot of worry and fear, Eadmund saw, as everyone gradually dispersed. He frowned and walked over to Thorgils, Bram, and Isaura. ‘Anything from the dreamer?’ he wondered.
Isaura shook her head. ‘No. Ayla is still weak from her injury. Her husband is very ill too. Ivaar had him in one of the prison holes for over a year.’
‘Well, do what you can to help him,’ Eadmund said distractedly. ‘And how is Odda?’ he asked, turning to Thorgils, whose eyes were on Evaine as she perched regally upon Eydis’ chair.
Thorgils blinked. ‘Odda is near death, I would say.’ He coughed, glancing at his feet. ‘She has not woken for some time apparently.’
Eadmund tried to look sympathetic, though he wondered how anyone could love Odda. She had not said a kind word to Thorgils that he knew of. He thought of his own mother, at the pain of her death, and the emptiness he still felt. ‘You should go and be with her.’
Thorgils shook his head dismissively. ‘Runa is there, and I can do more than sit and wait for her to die.’ It was hard to say but true. ‘Ivaar is coming. And unless Ayla can tell us differently, we’re going to be in one big shit-heap of trouble soon.’
Eadmund swallowed. He had wanted this. He had wanted Ivaar to come so that he could finish his brother and savour his revenge. But now?
Now, it felt like a petty, childish wish.
Now, he had a kingdom to protect.
Jael sat opposite Marcus.
His fireplace contained a heap of ash, and his chamber was so cold that she could see her breath coming in short, white puffs before her.
He didn’t appear to notice.
‘It has come to my attention that you have stolen a book from me.’
‘So your men said.’ Jael saw signs of discomfort in his eyes; almost terror. He was trying to mask it so desperately. ‘But I do not have the book.’
‘There is no point in lying. You will only make it worse. My dreamers will find it.’
‘They are welcome to try,’ Jael said calmly. ‘But I do not have it. I did... find a book, yes... and it proved useful, but I no longer have it. It was lost during the raven attack. I’m afraid that I can’t help you any further.’
Marcus looked relieved. ‘Well, my men will keep looking and if they find out that you have hidden it...’
‘What? They will kill a queen?’
‘A queen? How are you a queen anymore?’ Marcus mocked. ‘There is another woman sitting beside your husband now. Sleeping in his bed. How are you the Queen of Oss? You’re not even there when they need you the most.’
Jael swallowed, sick to her stomach. Her whole body was punctured and blood-crusted; her worries about Edela, Eydis, and Tig were fighting for her attention and now... ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Well, now that your grandmother is awake, perhaps she will tell you?’ Marcus sneered, standing up, eager to end things.
‘You mean Ivaar?’ Jael said as she stood. ‘Ivaar Skalleson?’
‘I couldn’t say,’ Marcus said, meeting her eyes. ‘Best you ask a dreamer. Although, I had heard it rumoured that you were one now. But,
then again, what use is a dreamer if she can’t see what is coming to her own door?’ He stared at her with every bit of will he had.
Jael saw what she needed and dropped her head, allowing herself to be ushered outside before the door was banged shut against her bleeding shoulder.
She stood in the cold, dark corridor shivering.
He had warned her.
Oss was in serious trouble.
Borg Arnesson looked ready to kill Ivaar as they stood in the rain outside the hall. ‘You promised us gold, bastard!’ he snorted, pushing Ivaar away from him. ‘Gold and blood! Yet, I have no gold, and I’ve spilled no one’s blood! But somehow now, as I stand here in your stinking presence, I am one ship lighter, having just sacrificed 30 men for Ilvari’s supper! So, tell me, Ivaar the Bastard, what are you going to do about that, you feckless cunt?’
Ivaar didn’t flinch, ignoring the sour taste of Borg’s spittle as it showered over him. Borg Arnesson was smaller than Ivaar but tougher than most men he had met. The sort of man who was wound so tightly that he was ready to kill over the smallest slight. The Arnesson brothers’ reputation put the fear of the gods into most clear-thinking men.
But Ivaar had been desperate.
Too desperate to make a better choice.
‘And I had been promised fast ships, with the hardest seamen in Alekka. Yet, here I stand, without my wife and children, far away from my brother and any gold I may have wished to give you!’
Lord Frits of Bara hurried in between the two men, nervously poking his silver-ringed fingers at both of them. ‘We are not going to help ourselves or each other if we spend all our breath on arguing!’ he grumbled. ‘Let’s go inside and make our plans. The only way we’re all going to get what we want is to find a way forward. In the same direction. And after that storm, I’m sure you could all do with a warm fire?’
Borg and his younger brothers, Toki and Rolan, eyed Ivaar with menace as they turned and followed Frits into his very modest hall.
Ivaar grimaced, watching them go, wondering again at the wisdom of forging an alliance with a trio of turds like the Arnessons. A man’s reputation was everything in the islands. But in Alekka and beyond, the Arnessons had no shame in boasting of themselves as weaselly thieves, desperate liars, and cold-blooded murderers.
But for Ivaar, they were the only hope he had.
‘Jael!’ Biddy looked relieved as she hurried to the door and helped Jael off with her cloak. It was torn, ripped, bloodstained, and shat on, but Jael couldn’t have cared less as she hurried to the bed and her grandmother.
‘Are you really back?’ Jael smiled, tears in her eyes, clasping Edela’s hand. ‘It wasn’t just a dream?’
Edela was so weak. She couldn’t lift her head or even her own hand. But she could almost smile, and she did. ‘Jael.’ She closed her eyes, the smile still on her face. ‘Jael.’
It was just a breath, disappearing into nothing but Jael felt such a lift to hear that voice again. She looked around at everyone, checking their wounds, of which there were many. But none appeared too serious.
Entorp had his jars of salve out and was going from one person to the next, smothering them in foul odours.
Jael wrinkled her nose, gagging. ‘You are not coming near me!’ she grumbled as he approached. ‘Maybe you should take that outside to the poor horses?’
Entorp nodded. ‘I’ve seen to them already, although some of their wounds are deep, but Biddy will help me sew them up soon, don’t worry.’
Jael felt anxious for Tig, guilty for bringing him along, but doubting that he would have been any safer with Evaine. She looked around for the puppies who were still cowering under the bed. ‘Ido, Vella,’ she called gently, but they didn’t emerge. ‘Come on, now.’ Jael crawled under the bed and pulled one out at a time. She placed Vella on the bed next to Edela and plonked Ido on her knee, holding his shuddering, black body close to her own.
‘What happened with Marcus?’ Branwyn wondered as she handed around cups of small ale. ‘About the book?’
‘What book?’ Jael asked, her face blank.
Branwyn blinked, confused, looking at Kormac.
‘Yes, my love,’ he said to his wife. ‘What book do you mean?’ Kormac knew as well as Jael that the only way those soldiers and the elderman could have been at their door so quickly, looking for that book, was if they were watching somehow.
And if they were watching then, they were certainly watching now.
‘The elderman tells me that there is trouble on Oss,’ Jael said, gripping Eydis’ hand.
Eydis gasped. ‘Ivaar.’
‘I imagine so.’
Gisila looked impatient and confused, not wanting to talk about Oss at all; not understanding why they were. ‘But what just happened?’ She glanced around. Her mother appeared to be asleep again. She hoped she was just sleeping. ‘Where did all those ravens come from? And why did they attack us?’
The house was so full. Aron and Aedan were slumped on the floor. Alaric and Derwa had stayed and were perched on stools by the fire. Biddy was helping Entorp administer his salve. Eydis sat by Jael. Fyn hovered by the door near Kayla who cradled her sleeping daughter in her arms.
They all looked to Jael.
There was not a lot she could say. She had Marcus in her mind.
And the book.
Would the dreamers find where she had put it?
‘I don’t know,’ she muttered, shaking her head. ‘I don’t know. But they’re gone now, and we must focus on what we can do to protect ourselves if it happens again. If it’s not more birds, then perhaps it will be something else.’
‘Something else?’ Alaric panicked, quickly finishing off his small ale. ‘What sort of something else?’
Jael wasn’t listening as they all started talking over one another, desperate to have their ideas heard, their worries answered. She turned to Edela, thinking back to what had just happened. It flashed in front of her eyes in a wash of black noise.
But one thing jumped out of the blur.
Edela had saved her, as they said she would.
Jael smiled and leaned over to kiss her grandmother’s head. Now, she just had to get them out of here and back to Oss in time to save Eadmund.
‘They will find the book,’ Yorik assured Morana as she stooped before the fire in her chamber, angry and defeated.
She spun around, her eyes flaring. ‘And why do you have so much trust that they can do anything?’
Yorik was unflustered. ‘Because Gerod knows everything that happens in Tuura. He has assumed control now. Marcus?’ he smiled. ‘There is nothing he can do now. He is merely a figurehead. Gerod runs those soldiers. They are all bound to him. They do his bidding. As are any dreamers who are not already in The Following,’ Yorik insisted, attempting to smooth down Morana’s hair, hoping to get her to stop fidgeting and spitting. ‘They are all there to do Gerod’s bidding. You have nothing to worry about. That book will be found.’
Morana’s body did not soften in the slightest. Tension made her so rigid that she felt as though her limbs could snap into jagged shards of bone. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes. ‘Jaeger is hungry for more.’
‘He is, of course,’ Yorik sighed, pushing her gently towards her bed. ‘He does not know what we need from the book. What we need from him. That is what you must focus on. Finding the answers to the ritual spell. Making sense of it somehow. These distractions with Jaeger are not helpful, but if you can find Axl Furyck again, that will keep him amused, I’m sure. You must sleep and dream now. We cannot hope to find any answers until you do.’
Axl pulled Amma along as she ran her other hand distractedly through the tall, swaying grass they waded through. She tried to smile at him but her eyes blinked anxiously, and she couldn’t stop swallowing.
Once they had been desperate to escape that cave, craving sunshine and warmth, but now they all felt exposed without its thick walls to protect them.
‘Do you think Gant will understand the m
essage?’ Amma wondered, inhaling the sweet scent of honeyberry flowers that hid amongst the grass; enjoying the rays of sunlight on her face. But as she glanced up, searching the sky, she found herself fearing every bird that flew overhead, every cloud in the distance.
Axl nodded, barely listening. ‘I’m sure he will.’
Aleksander watched as they walked ahead of him. Their clothes were in tatters, their wounds exposed and stinging. Everything hurt, but they didn’t have time to stop and tend to each other. They had to find horses.
They had to get to Tuura.
23
They spent the rest of the day clearing up, burning the birds, binding wounds, making pyres for those who had died. The Tuurans shuffled about in shock, jumping at every sound, panicked by every sudden movement, listening for signs that danger was coming again.
There were no more birds, but the stench of blood hung in the air, unnerving them all. More storms threatened. The clouds rolled above them, turning darker shades of grey, clustering into foreboding shapes. Jael worked alongside Beorn and the crew, looking up regularly, eager to make sure that they were just storm clouds.
‘Some place you’ve brought us,’ Beorn mumbled as he picked up a wooden plank and followed her inside. They were hurrying to cover any holes in the stable walls before nightfall. ‘Think I’d rather be back on Oss, taking on Ivaar. At least that’s the sort of fight that makes sense. But this...’ he looked around, feeling the pain in his side where a bird had pecked a hole in him.
He didn’t have a clue what had happened.
Jael had come to check on Tig. He was skittish and reluctant to be left in his stall. ‘It doesn’t make much sense, I know,’ she said quietly, running her hand down Tig’s nose, trying to calm him.
‘But it’s magic, isn’t it?’ Beorn whispered hoarsely, peering at her. ‘Some sort of dark magic?’