Night of the Shadow Moon

by A. E. Rayne

  Haaron nodded. ‘Yes, I was thinking that.’

  ‘Well, it does sound as though you’ll be busy. Too busy for visiting.’

  Haaron glanced at his son who looked down, continuing with his meal. ‘Yes, too busy for visiting,’ Haaron almost whispered to himself.

  Ayla sat by the fire. It was a lovely house, she thought, although Isaura seemed a little on edge and uncomfortable being in it.

  ‘Selene! Don’t touch that!’ Isaura snapped, her usually calm face pinched with displeasure as her eldest daughter backed away from the bone-handled knife she was about to pick up.

  ‘Are you enjoying being back?’ Ayla wondered gently.

  Isaura sighed. ‘I’m not sure how I feel.’ She lowered her voice, her eyes darting around the room. ‘The children are unhappy. Asking questions, not sleeping. And I just don’t know what will happen next. I don’t fear for them, but I worry about Thorgils and Eadmund and everyone else.’ She looked at Ayla, reaching out to grab her hand. ‘I worry about what Ivaar will do to us.’

  ‘Well, perhaps there is something we can do about Ivaar,’ Ayla said quietly. ‘I’ve come for your help.’

  Dusk had fallen before Axl, Amma, and Aleksander were near a cave or shelter of any kind, so they stopped for the night in a small clearing, some way off the main road. It reminded Aleksander of the first place he had camped with Edela on their trip to Tuura.

  Thankfully, it wasn’t snowing.

  They were tired and wet through. It had rained steadily for most of the day and Axl had struggled to get a fire going, but, at last, the flames appeared to have settled into a promising rhythm. He suspended the rabbit Amma had prepared over their makeshift spit, his stomach gurgling.

  Amma, who had not enjoyed preparing the rabbit at all, felt sick and couldn’t stop shivering. Axl sat back and reached out for her, wishing he could offer her some warmth, but everything they had was wet, including the horses, who didn’t appear bothered in the slightest as they quietly pulled on long shoots of grass nearby.

  Aleksander yawned, rolling his shoulder. It was healing but slowly. He rested his head against the wide trunk of an old tree and tried to imagine how far they were from Tuura. He had been this way so recently that it wasn’t hard to get his bearings. His best guess was that they had two more days on the road.

  ‘Perhaps you’ll have another dream tonight?’ Amma suggested.

  ‘I don’t think it works like that,’ Aleksander smiled wearily, not wanting another dream at all. ‘I think we’re doing what she wanted, so hopefully, there’s nothing more to say.’

  ‘Well, maybe that’s for the best? I can’t imagine it’s very comforting to have a dreamer inside your head.’

  ‘No. No, it’s not. But if it helps us save everyone, then it’s worth all the bad dreams in the world.’

  Morana sat in a chair by the fire, staring at the wall. Coming to Hest had been unpleasant.

  Too many people.

  Needy, demanding, stupid people.

  She sighed, closing her eyes, feeling closer than ever to the supreme bliss of limitless death and ultimate power. To exist as a god, but better. The gods and goddesses were pathetic tools of Dala, of Vidar, of whichever weak master they served. So protective of life, so afraid of death. But Raemus? Raemus was the Darkness. All things would be possible once he returned.

  If Jael Furyck didn’t get in the way.

  Eadmund Skalleson was no longer a factor, she was certain, but Jael Furyck was roaming Tuura with a book that no one in The Following could find. And that book was useful enough to battle the Book of Darkness, she knew.

  But if she could work fast enough, distract them all, keep them thinking about Tuura, about the book, about Jael Furyck, then she could finally translate the rest of the ritual spell.

  And then, before long, they would raise Raemus from his death-prison.

  Morana smiled, desperate for the night to hurry along.

  Karsten couldn’t sleep.

  He felt sick. Angry. Humiliated. His wife lay next to him, not sleeping. But she was pretending to. He knew Nicolene. He knew her sounds and the ones she was making were not the ones she made when she slept.

  Was she planning to leave in the night? Waiting for him to fall asleep?

  Karsten’s fists pulsed in angry balls by his sides as he lay there, thinking about his brother. His wife. Wondering who he would kill first.

  How he would do it.

  His own brother?

  It was too painful to feel real. The night of Lothar Furyck’s murder, he had raced back to try and stop Jaeger’s own wife from being stolen away. Jaeger’s thanks had been to take Nicolene from him.

  Karsten clenched his jaw, desperate to keep his tongue inside his mouth.

  The right time would come to expose their deceit.

  And he would wait for it.

  Isaura glanced at Ayla, wondering if she was ready to begin the dream walk. Ayla didn’t look comfortable as she sat on the floor before the fire, her legs crossed, her brow furrowed in discomfort. Or perhaps she was just concentrating, Isaura wondered.

  They were alone in Eadmund’s small, rundown cottage. Despite a healthy fire before them, the wind was whistling through holes in the crumbling walls and Isaura was convinced that they would have been warmer outside.

  She gripped the drum, waiting, her mind wandering to Ivaar. He would be so desperate to come and claim them both. There had to be something they could do to stop him.

  Perhaps this was it?

  Ayla exhaled, trying to ignore the pain in her leg as she turned to Isaura, slowing her breathing, feeling her body unwind, limb by limb, her mind with it. ‘Start drumming.’

  Axl smiled at Amma as they lay on the grass; close, but not as close as he would have liked. Not with Aleksander there. Not after what Amma had been through.

  Not when she was still Jaeger Dragos’ wife.

  Yet here he was, heading for Tuura, when he wanted to be in Andala with Gant, preparing their forces to attack Hest.

  Hest had plenty of men, but no ships. And if he was the King of Brekka now, then he was a king with an impressive fleet. And, if his grandmother lived and she could help him make sea-fire, they could sail to Hest and destroy the Dragos’.

  Take Hest. Claim it for Brekka.

  And he would become a powerful king.

  He could see his sister’s frown and hear his father’s disapproval, but he closed his eyes and ears against them both.

  Revenge would be his to claim, for Amma.

  ‘Meena,’ Jaeger purred as he crawled across the bed towards her. ‘Meena, Meena, Meena.’

  Meena sat up, shuffling away from him, her eyes wide with terror.

  ‘What do you do, Meena?’ he asked.

  He sounded odd, she thought. Her skin itched. She wanted to scratch all over. ‘D-d-do?’ she stuttered. ‘Anything you w-w-want.’

  Jaeger stopped, his face almost touching hers. ‘Anything I want? Hmmm...’ He cocked his head to one side, watching as she tried so desperately not to scramble away from him. He could almost taste her fear as he reached out a hand, running it over her tangled web of hair. ‘Have you ever thought of a comb, Meena?’ he wondered suddenly. ‘You should really use a comb. It would help with this...’ he waved his hands around, frowning. ‘Mess.’

  Meena gulped. He was acting so strangely.

  ‘Morana is hiding things from me,’ Jaeger murmured. ‘So many things. She said that she could read the book. Promised me that she could read it. I killed her mother because she could read it! And now? Now, all I do is wait,’ he growled, his eyes darting about the candlelit chamber as he rocked back on his heels. ‘I wait on her because she has all the power over me.’ He snapped his head to Meena. ‘You see that, don’t you?’

  Meena nodded quickly.

  Jaeger crept towards her again, his mind whirring so fast that he couldn’t keep up with it. ‘So, you will finally do something Meena. My Meena. My little Meena.’ He rubbed his finger
over the bump in the middle of her nose. ‘You will go to Morana’s chamber. You will bring me Varna’s books, and we can look at them together. They must still be there, mustn’t they?’

  Meena looked horrified. She opened her mouth in protest, but Jaeger reached out and pinched her lips closed.

  ‘Good!’ he smiled, then turned away from her, exhausted, yawning. ‘When Morana is here next, you will go. I will keep her away from you, don’t worry. I will protect you.’

  Meena sat there as he muttered sleepily to himself, her body taut with fear.

  Morana would know.

  She would know.

  She saw everything in her dreams.

  Evaine fell into a satisfied heap beside Eadmund, who didn’t appear to notice as he lay there, barely moving, staring into the darkness. As much as she knew that he was hers, he seemed so distracted. His mind was occupied with thoughts of his brother and the island, she knew, but there was something else, and she didn’t know what it was. ‘Eadmund,’ Evaine murmured, laying her head on his chest. ‘What is wrong?’

  He blinked, noticing her at last. Laying a hand on top of her head, he stroked her silky hair, feeling it slither over his chest as she wriggled into a comfortable position. Eadmund sighed, content for a moment, knowing that in the next room their son lay sleeping.

  And he couldn’t let Ivaar take either of them away from him.

  He hoped that Ayla could get through to Jael.

  He needed her help.

  Ayla fell forward, gagging, struggling for air. Spent.

  ‘Are you alright?’ Isaura asked dreamily, straining to see through the smoky haze. ‘Did you find Jael?’ She dropped the drum and felt around for the water bag she had brought with her. Locating it, she took a quick drink and handed it to Ayla.

  ‘Yes. No,’ Ayla said breathlessly, coughing. ‘She is shutting me out.’

  Isaura frowned, feeling as though Ayla’s voice was echoing all around her. ‘Why? How? How can she do that?’ She reached for the water bag again and took another drink.

  Ayla opened her eyes wide, trying to clear her mind. She didn’t know. ‘I’ve never experienced it. It’s as though she’s invisible. I cannot see her at all.’

  Isaura was confused. ‘You don’t think she’s... dead, do you?’ She hurried to her feet, desperate to escape the thick fug of smoke choking her throat.

  ‘Dead?’ Ayla frowned. ‘No, death is something else. Death is emptiness. Peace. No, this was as if she was hidden behind a wall. Locked away from me.’

  Isaura stood in the doorway, inhaling the cold air. ‘From you?’

  ‘From me. From dreamers.’ Ayla struggled to her feet, limping to the door, eager for a breath of the night air herself. ‘But why? What doesn’t she want us to see?’

  ‘The walls are closing in, Edela,’ the voice crowed. ‘While you lie there, lifeless. Useless. No help to anyone. The walls are closing in, and soon they will crush you all.’

  Edela squirmed, desperate to leave these nightmares behind now. She was growing stronger. She didn’t need to dwell in this stinking, black cave any longer, listening to that cackling voice as it tried to intimidate her.

  She was ready to walk all the way through the door and slam it shut behind her now.

  Everyone was in danger.

  Everyone she loved.

  And they weren’t getting out of Tuura without her help.

  V

  The River

  30

  Morana came for them at midnight.

  Jaeger felt as though he’d only just fallen asleep. His eyes were grainy, still half closed. He was unsteady on his feet as he stumbled down the corridor after her, dragging Meena behind him.

  Thunder growled in the distance, and he frowned at the idea of trekking out to the Crown of Stones in another storm, but The Following would not abandon their sacred place.

  So they walked to the stones and lit their fire in the rain, preparing to cast another spell.

  For him.

  Jaeger scowled impatiently as he stood with Meena, watching Morana mark where each person would lie with a small stone; watching The Followers fan out, murmuring amongst themselves as they took their places in the circle. Flames spluttered, fighting against the drizzle and the piles of herbs being thrown on top of them. Eventually, they burst into life, belching out thick puffs of fragrant smoke.

  ‘Perhaps you should join the circle now?’ Yorik murmured as he ushered them towards Morana.

  Meena pulled against Jaeger, wanting to leave, smelling the familiar scent of herbs that would take them into another trance.

  She wanted to go back to the castle.

  Jaeger yanked her towards him. ‘You’re sure it will work this time?’ he snarled. ‘That we will actually kill a Furyck?’

  ‘They won’t even know what is happening,’ Yorik insisted.

  ‘But will we?’

  ‘Of course,’ Yorik smiled. ‘We will be there.’

  ‘Wake up! Wake up! Ride to the river! You know where it is! You have been there before! I will help you! Ride! Ride! Ride!’

  Aleksander’s head jerked forward.

  He blinked rapidly, trying to open his eyes. It was too dark to even see his hands, but he could hear that urgent voice, booming in his head.

  The Widow.

  Aleksander scrambled to his feet, reaching for Axl, his mouth so dry that he could barely speak. ‘We have to move!’ he croaked, tying his swordbelt around his waist, grabbing his cloak.

  Axl shook himself awake. ‘Move?’

  But Aleksander had already gone, feeling his way towards the horses who were whinnying, pulling against their ropes. Did they sense his panic, or something else, he wondered? He could feel rain, getting heavier. Clouds were covering the moon and stars. It was not going to be an easy ride. ‘Amma! Wake up! We must leave! Now!’

  Amma lurched awake. Their fire had gone out. She was shivering. Damp. Confused.

  Aleksander didn’t know what he was doing or saying. There was nothing to see except the darkness, which, in itself was unsettling. But what was coming, he was certain, would not be good. ‘Amma, come!’ he called as Axl hurried her towards the horses. ‘Axl, grab your cloaks! Quick!’

  Axl was alert now. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘I don’t know, but we have to leave!’ Aleksander boosted Amma up onto her horse who was panicking with her, skittering across the wet ground.

  Axl finished wrapping his belt around his waist, then hoisted himself up onto his own horse. ‘Where are we going?’

  Aleksander blinked quickly, trying to get his bearings. The wind was picking up around his ears, clearing his sleepy head. ‘The river.’ Instinctively he turned his horse’s head to the right. ‘Come on! Let’s go! Ha!’ he cried, nudging her flanks, pointing her towards the trees.

  And the voice kept echoing in his ears. ‘Ride! Ride! Ride!’

  Eirik Skalleson sat on his chair in Oss’ hall, frowning at her.

  He was not happy. ‘You have left.’

  Jael didn’t know where to look. Finally, she braved his eyes. ‘Not forever.’

  ‘You’re sure about that?’ He sharpened his bushy, white brows, displeased. ‘Sure you haven’t just escaped because the challenge was too hard? She took Eadmund, so you gave up?’

  Jael shook her head, straightening her back. ‘I’ll return as soon as I can.’

  ‘And what if you’re too late?’ Eirik stood and walked towards her with ease. There were no aches or pains for him now. ‘What if Ivaar sits on my throne when you come?’

  ‘But I can’t leave Tuura. We’re trapped here.’

  ‘Eydis can help you.’

  Jael blinked as he reached her.

  ‘When all is lost, when you are blind, Eydis can see. That is what her mother told me before she died. When the darkness comes, that is when Eydis will see.’

  Jael looked at Eirik, confused. She had missed that crumpled face. She reached for his hands, but he drifted away, and she stoo
d in Tuura’s main street, and it was dark and cold and stunk of smoke and dying things.

  She shivered, hating this place; hearing her mother’s screams, remembering herself shaking under that bed, trying so desperately to keep Axl quiet as he wriggled beside her, tears running down his cheeks.

  She closed her eyes, wanting a different dream.

  ‘Jael!’

  It was Axl, and he was screaming.

  ‘Jael!’

  He was running.

  Powerful, long strides. Thick claws digging into the earth. Frenzied breath coming in bursts. Tongue flapping.

  Inhaling the familiar scent.

  Of Amma Furyck.

  He could feel his teeth grinding, sharp-edged, desperate; his lips curling.

  Thundering through the forest.

  After that scent.

  His horse’s ears flattened back.

  Aleksander saw that in a burst of moonlight before he heard the noise.

  He thought it was thunder; the storm approaching from behind.

  They were winding their way through the dense forest in the darkness; moonlight shining in intermittent patches. His horse had a sense of space that he didn’t possess, so he gave her room to find her way, trying to ignore the terror of tree trunks leaping out from the shadows, stopping his heart.

  Aleksander wanted to swallow, but his mouth was dry with fear.

  He couldn’t.

  ‘Go right! Right!’ urged the voice in his head and he yanked on the reins.

  His horse was terrified, he could tell.

  So was he. Something felt frighteningly familiar.

  Aleksander looked quickly around.

  And then he found out why.

  Amma screamed.