Night of the Shadow Moon

by A. E. Rayne

  But they could find no symbols carved into it at all.

  It was disheartening and neither wanted to go back to the house and disappoint everyone.

  Entorp frowned. ‘I was sure that we’d find something.’

  ‘So was I,’ Fyn sighed wearily, wet through and miserable. He looked up at the sky. ‘Will it ever stop raining?’ he grumbled as they finally trekked back to the house.

  Entorp smiled as he followed his gaze. ‘It does rain a lot in Tuura. But this weather feels even worse than anything I remember.’ He stumbled to a stop.

  ‘What is it?’ Fyn wondered, peering at the street, assuming that Entorp had tripped over something.

  ‘The towers,’ Entorp whispered hoarsely. ‘Look at the towers.’ He knelt in the mud, pretending to adjust his boot while Fyn scanned the fort. There were four towers positioned along the wall, equal distance apart. They were large towers with two floors; wooden ramparts connecting each one to the next.

  The soldiers spent much of their time in those towers.

  Entorp stood up, enjoying the look on Fyn’s face.

  ‘But how can we get in and find out if there are any symbols inside them?’ Fyn wondered.

  ‘Well, I think that Kormac and his sons might come in handy for that,’ Entorp grinned as they hurried back to the house.

  The thought of seeing Axl’s face when he told him the news about Osbert had spurred Gant on through six long days in the saddle. He was numb and stiff and yet, still grateful that he had a horse, and could at least feel his feet, unlike most of the poor souls who had traipsed behind him in the never-ending rain. So, it came as a bit of a disappointment when Gant finally arrived at the cave to find that no one was there.

  No one was there, but a message had been left for him in stones and twigs:

  GO TO TUURA

  Gant stood and stared at those words for a time. Some of the sticks and smaller pebbles had been moved – displaced by animals, he supposed – but the message remained clear enough. And so he stared at it, and then at the piles of dead ravens littered around the cave floor.

  There was dried blood everywhere.

  Somehow, Gant knew those two things were related. Why else go to Tuura?

  Why ever go back to Tuura?

  He dropped his shoulders and turned to leave. Tuura was another three or four days away. Not the news he wanted to deliver to his men who thought they were nearly home.

  But if their new king had gone to Tuura.

  Well, he sighed, then they were going to Tuura too.

  34

  Aedan and Aron swallowed at the same time, looking as apprehensive as their father as they stood around the three loaded carts.

  ‘It’s simple,’ Kormac said in a hushed voice. ‘We’ve repaired their swords, sharpened their axes, fixed their tools, and now we’re just going to deliver them, as we would on any other day.’ He pointed to the cart on his right. ‘Aedan, you’ll go to the eastern tower. Aron, you’ll take this pile to the northern tower. And, I’ll take the rest.’

  His sons nodded nervously.

  ‘Make sure you help them carry the weapons inside. See if you can find a way to have a look around,’ Kormac reminded them.

  ‘But where do we look?’ Aedan wondered, pulling on the three braids of his short, coppery beard. ‘Surely they haven’t carved these symbols in plain sight?’

  That thought worried Kormac too. ‘Well, try your best to check the walls and floors that are exposed, that’s easy enough I’d say. It may be that they’re hidden, and we won’t see them at all, but if you have a chance alone in the tower, look behind things and try not to get caught!’

  ‘I’m not sure why you have to keep rubbing this evil stink all over me, Entorp Bray!’ Edela spluttered. ‘I don’t blame Jael for wanting to vomit every time she smells it. I feel the same!’

  Entorp’s eyes widened in surprise. Edela almost sounded like herself again. It cheered him to see it. ‘Well, perhaps you don’t need it anymore? You seem almost recovered.’

  ‘Not quite,’ she said, exhaling heavily and resting her head back on the pillow. ‘But I am feeling stronger all the time. I just need to have some useful dreams. It’s been too long since I was much help to anyone. We’re all in this mess because of me.’

  ‘Yes, but you nearly dying has led us here to something important. Something we need to stop. Saving Tuura, destroying The Following.’ Entorp could feel his heart pounding at the memory of what they had done to his family. After hiding from the pain for so long, he felt a sudden thirst for revenge.

  He was not a violent man, but The Following had taken everything from him. Nothing they did now would bring back his wife and children, but if he could rip out their heart, it would go some way towards healing his own.

  ‘I know that book,’ Edela murmured. ‘I saw every page of it when I was here in the winter. I ran my hands over every scrawl, every symbol. And, old though I may be, I know that every one of those pages is in here somewhere.’ She tapped her head. ‘So, I think I had better get some sleep and try to tease out some answers for what we need to do.’

  ‘And a way to save Eadmund,’ Eydis reminded her.

  Edela frowned. ‘Yes, that too. Your poor brother has not had much luck lately, has he? Twisted around the finger of that evil, little bitch.’ Edela ignored Entorp’s surprised blinking that she would speak with such force, especially in front of Eydis. But Edela still remembered the look in that girl’s eye, so vicious and victorious as she plunged the knife into her stomach. She shivered, reliving the strange sensation.

  There had been no pain, only shock.

  ‘Edela?’ Entorp was worried.

  ‘I’m still here,’ she assured him. ‘But I’m tired now. I shall close my eyes for a while. One of those puppies would help me sleep. They are quite soothing, I find.’

  Entorp smiled and reached down for Vella who already had her paws on the bed, ready to accept Edela’s invitation. He placed her on the furs and turned to Eydis, who had been yawning uncontrollably next to him. ‘Why don’t you get some sleep as well, Eydis? I’ll just sit at the table with my ink pot and some vellum. Perhaps something will come to mind for me also?’

  Aron stopped outside the tall, stone tower, his shoulders up around his ears, certain that everyone would see his knees knocking together.

  He knew the soldier, Horsa, who raised a hand to him as he approached. ‘Surprised to see you here, Byrn, what with all the trouble your cousin’s been cooking up lately.’

  Aron shrugged as he pulled back the sacking he had laid over the weapons to keep off the rain. ‘My cousin? In the training ring, you mean?’ He laughed, shaking his curly, brown hair, trying to sound casual. ‘Not sure what Baccus thought he was doing, but it didn’t look like he had training on his mind to me.’ Aron lifted out an armload of swords and walked towards the guard tower. There were two levels. He didn’t know how he could possibly get up to look inside the top one.

  ‘Well, I guess she’s not as tough as they say if she’s going to moan about being in a real fight.’ Horsa picked up a pair of fetters and a long axe and followed him into the tower.

  Aron realised that he needed to get Horsa on side quickly. ‘True. But then, she’s from Brekka, and they’re all a bit soft down there!’

  Horsa sniggered. ‘Especially the women, from what I hear. In all the right places!’

  Aron wasn’t listening as he adjusted his eyes to the dingy room. There was only a tiny smoke hole leading up to the next floor, and with the fire burning high, it was murky and airless. A couple of torches flickered from sconces along the walls. Narrow beds lined one side of the room. Barrels and shelves ran down the other. A long table surrounded by stools sat to the right of the fire pit.

  Aron’s eyes were everywhere as he carried the swords to the table and carefully laid them down.

  ‘So, when do you think she’s leaving then, your cousin?’ Horsa wondered, rubbing a dirty hand across his meaty lips as he added the
fetters and axe to Aron’s pile.

  Aron turned to leave and tripped over his feet, landing on his elbows with a thump.

  Horsa laughed. ‘Ha! Runs in the family, I see.’

  Aron scrambled to his feet. ‘I seem to remember Baccus being the one with a knife in his throat,’ he grinned, brushing himself off. ‘What’s going on up there?’ he wondered, looking up at the rafters, listening to the thumping of boots across floorboards.

  Horsa grunted, uninterested. ‘Training. Same old thing, day after day.’ He narrowed his beady eyes. ‘Not looking to become a soldier are you, Byrn? I doubt your father would like that! Who would do all his odd jobs?’ He laughed and walked Aron back to the door.

  ‘Well, I’ve never really wanted to be a blacksmith,’ Aron said quite truthfully. ‘Maybe if I could... look around? See what you do?’ He tried to sound casual, but his voice was quivering.

  Horsa didn’t appear to notice. ‘Spose you can,’ he shrugged, motioning towards the stairs. ‘Maybe it’s better than smithing, I don’t know. You can tell me.’ And he turned and wandered up the stairs.

  ‘I’ll just make sure my cart is secure!’ Aron called, hurrying through the door. ‘I’ll meet you up there!’ He waited until Horsa had disappeared up the stairs, then quickly raced back inside, dropping to the floor, peering under the bed.

  ‘Left your cart under there, did you?’ Horsa wondered as he stepped back down the stairs, frowning.

  Aron hit his head on the bed frame as he shuffled out. ‘No, but I must have dropped my knife when I fell over. Thought it might be under there. My father will kill me if I come back without it. He’s only just given it to me!’

  Horsa smiled. ‘I know how that goes. I’d better get upstairs before there’s a grumble on. Come up when you’re ready.’ And he waddled back up the stairs, leaving Aron dizzy with panic, scrambling about on the floor, checking behind and under every bed and stool.

  And then, just as he was about to give up, he found it. A symbol, carved into the stone wall behind the great barrels of ale. Swallowing and glancing back at the stairs, Aron rocked and pushed the barrel further away from the wall. He pulled a scrap of vellum and a stone from his pouch, and with shaking hands, held the vellum over the symbol and rubbed the stone furiously over it. Folding everything up and stuffing it into his pouch, he hurried up the stairs, certain that he was about to faint.

  ‘Not dead yet, I see,’ the voice sneered. ‘What a shame. I was quite enjoying your company. Having you here with me, in this prison? It’s so nice to have someone to talk to after all these years.’

  Edela was not on the raft this time. She was not bound.

  She was standing in the cave, feeling the certainty of her boots on rock. The dark air felt familiar and heavy, crushing her with its force.

  But she was standing. ‘You will not win!’ Edela cried desperately, but her voice was as faint as a whisper.

  The laughter was a shriek of anger. ‘You think living is winning? That you defeat me by living?’

  Edela frowned, wanting to turn and leave now. This wasn’t the dream she needed to have. There were no answers here.

  She closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath, to fill her lungs with air.

  She needed to go.

  ‘We will be together soon, Edela,’ the voice promised. ‘This? This is just where I wait to return. And soon, I will. Can you feel that? How close I am? How close I am to your precious Jael now... the one who is supposed to stop me. But will they stop her first? I think so.’

  Edela swallowed, blinking, gasping.

  Disappearing into the darkness.

  There was a lot to talk about that night.

  And a lot of people all wanting to talk at once. But ten people around a table made for six would not do, so they spread out, eating from stools, from the floor, barely noticing the taste of Biddy’s long slaved over stew as they fought to be heard.

  Except for Entorp. ‘This tastes good,’ he smiled shyly at Biddy.

  She beamed at him, pleased that someone was enjoying it. She had no appetite herself, so she was busy spooning some into Edela’s mouth instead.

  ‘I’m not a baby bird, Brynna Halvor!’ Edela grumbled. ‘No need to feed me like one. Give me the spoon!’

  Jael looked around at her grandmother. ‘Well, anyone who insists on lying about in bed for so long must be spoon-fed, don’t you think, Biddy?’

  Biddy nodded. ‘Indeed. We can’t have our patients thinking they can feed themselves.’

  Edela wriggled, worried that her bones were too fragile to even lift her body. But there was no time for fragile. She pushed herself up, determined to get to the edge of the bed.

  ‘Mother!’ Gisila and Branwyn exclaimed, scrambling off their stools, hurrying to her side.

  ‘You’re not ready,’ Branwyn insisted.

  ‘Not yet,’ Gisila added.

  Edela frowned at them both. ‘Ahhh, two daughters now. Twice the fussing.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Stop mumbling and help me. I’m tired of this bed, and there is too much to do for me to lie around in it any longer. I am back!’

  Jael smiled, happy to hear it. She turned to her cousins. ‘So, both of you saw a symbol?’

  Aedan nodded. ‘And they’re the same.’ He took Aron’s scrap of vellum and placed it next to his own. ‘Both in the same place on the wall, near the floor, behind the barrels of ale.’

  ‘And how many men are in each tower?’ Jael wondered.

  ‘Well, during the day, maybe ten,’ Kormac said uncertainly, looking at his sons for support.

  Aron nodded. ‘They take shifts at night, so five sleep below while the others are up on the top floor, then they swap.’

  ‘So, they would only come down to swap over?’ Jael ran a hand over her mouth, looking at Entorp. ‘If we can get in before that happens, we might be undisturbed.’

  ‘Except by those five men!’ Biddy exclaimed as she helped Edela to stand. ‘Slowly now, slowly,’ she muttered. ‘And what will you do about them?’

  Jael shrugged. ‘We’ll think of something, I’m sure.’

  Biddy frowned, not liking the sound of that. ‘But it’s all pointless, surely? Won’t the dreamers know that their spell has been broken? Won’t they see or feel it?’

  Jael looked at Edela, who was being shuffled slowly towards the table.

  ‘Possibly, yes.’ Edela sighed heavily, exhausted already. ‘You will need to put the symbol from our stones next to it first, I think. The symbol that keeps the dreamers out. Once that is there, cut through their symbol. What do you think, Entorp?’

  ‘Yes, that makes sense. It would hide the fact that the symbol was broken. The dreamers wouldn’t know.’

  Jael smiled, feeling around her right eye. She could almost see out of it again, which would come in handy now that they had the beginning of a plan.

  The beginning of a way out of Tuura.

  Evaine crawled towards Eadmund, her skin glowing brightly in the candles she had lit around the chamber.

  Eadmund could barely breathe. She looked exquisite. Her eyes were so full of desire for him. And yet... ‘I don’t think we should use the candles, Evaine,’ he said as she stopped, her lips about to touch his. ‘We may need them soon.’

  Evaine looked at Eadmund as though he had just spat in her face. She sat back on her heels. ‘What? What are you talking about? Candles?’ She shook her head and her blonde hair swept across her tiny breasts. ‘You’re thinking about candles? Now?’

  Eadmund froze, caught between his irritation over the candles and his throbbing, almost uncontrollable need for Evaine. But the candles... ‘We shouldn’t waste them.’ He glanced around the bedchamber. ‘And you have...’ There were at least 20 candles that he could count, and beeswax candles were considered a luxury long before they had started planning for a siege. More of a luxury than the plain soapstone lamps most Osslanders used to light their homes. Oss’ best candles were imported from the Fire Lands. They needed to save them. ‘Better
to use lamps,’ he smiled in the face of her frown.

  Evaine looked at him blankly. ‘Eadmund, what are you talking about?’

  He blinked, wondering himself. She was so beautiful. Mesmerising. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. His body was urging him on, but something was holding him back. Something he couldn’t put his finger on.

  Eventually, he sighed and reached out his hand. ‘Come back,’ he murmured. It was impossible to resist her. He couldn’t stop himself.

  He had to have her.

  ‘No more talk about candles?’ Evaine purred, crawling back to him, her frown easing, her tongue teasing his lips. ‘You’re ready to forget everything but me now?’ She put her hands on either side of his face.

  Eadmund closed his eyes. ‘I’m ready.’

  Marcus’ bowl remained untouched.

  Gerod wasn’t sure that he should care. He was rapidly becoming convinced that they didn’t need him anymore.

  The elderman, Jael Furyck, her family, her men...

  They were all dispensable now, surely?

  But, despite his rise to power in Tuura, the true leaders of The Following remained in Hest. And Yorik and Morana were keeping him on a tight leash.

  ‘Your book is burned to ash,’ Gerod smiled, certain that he’d seen Marcus twitch. He wanted more than a twitch, though. ‘And the sword is mine, so Jael Furyck is powerless now. Although, soon it won’t matter. Soon, they will raise her, and she will destroy you all.’ He strode back and forth in front of Marcus, who lay on his bed in the darkened corner of his chamber, facing the wall.

  A lamp burned softly on a table near the fireplace, but here, in the back of the long room, Marcus could escape into the shadows and hide away.

  Gerod licked his lips and slid his knife from its scabbard. Bending down to Marcus, he brought the blade to his throat. ‘But they haven’t said that they need you. Not that I remember hearing.’ He smelled fear now. It made him happy. He pressed the tip of his blade against Marcus’ neck, feeling it break his skin.