by A. E. Rayne
Marcus had no desire to die, yet at the same time, he had started to wonder what point there was to being alive any longer. What hope that he could escape? That Jael Furyck could do anything without her sword?
Then he thought of Hanna.
And the Book of Aurea.
There were two copies. Not many people knew that.
‘You can kill me,’ Marcus breathed, blinking away the sharp pain in his neck. ‘You have no reason not to. But there are dreamers everywhere in Osterland. In every kingdom. They will see this. They will see if you kill Jael Furyck. Armies will rise against you. They will find a dead elderman, discover all the dead dreamers and elders you have buried here. Find a dead queen and her men. Before you’re ready?’ He tried to sound calm, but his ears were ringing. ‘Perhaps it will not matter? Perhaps you are close to what you wish to achieve? But do you want to be remembered as the one who ruined everything?’
Gerod was not inclined to listen to anyone’s advice. Especially not someone he had wanted to kill for so long. The sanctimonious, pointless man who lay before him had been asking for his death for years, but... Gerod pulled his blade away. ‘You will do well to realise that I’ve shown you mercy. As you say, we are not quite ready. But the time is nearing when we will be.’ He stood and slipped his knife back into its scabbard. ‘And when that moment comes, I shall be here, by your side, ending you.’ He stepped away, towards the light. ‘You have nothing left now, Marcus Volsen. No one will mourn you when you’re gone.’
Hanna stood in the bow of the merchant ship.
She had barely slept since they left Tuura. The crew worried her. She was the only woman on board, and she’d spent most of the journey squirming away from leery looks and groping hands. Many of the men looked embarrassed when she caught them; others were bolder and held her stare, their eyes roaming her body freely.
Thankfully, Ulf seemed quite focused on getting his gold and made a point of barking at anyone he found getting too close to her. But Hanna wondered if even he could stop the man who decided to make good on his stares.
And Ulf was not always awake.
Hanna knew that she had to sleep, though, for they would be in Hest in a few days, and she would need to think and act with clarity and speed as soon as she arrived.
They had pulled in to shore every night so far. The weather had been foul, and Ulf had wanted to protect his ship. But to make up time, he had left them out at sea, sailing through the night and Hanna was grateful. She was impatient to get to Hest, wondering how she was going to convince Berard Dragos to help her steal the Book of Darkness.
Whether that was even possible, she didn’t know.
Hanna opened her purse and felt inside for her symbol stones. Wrapping her chilled fingers around one, she thought of her father, desperately hoping that Jael Furyck had found a way to save them all.
It was a different kind of dream. Not a dream walk. Not a memory.
Was it a vision of the future?
Jael didn’t know, but Oss seemed different. Darker. There was no Ketil, no Una beside him. No smell of charred meat. The tables were empty. The familiar, mud-caked square was free of people and animals altogether.
It was eerily quiet.
She looked around, but the only thing she could see moving was a thick cloud of low-lying mist creeping towards her.
Jael shivered and placed her hands on the table. She snapped her head to the right. Eadmund, Sevrin and a man she didn’t know were suddenly there, sitting at the next table as though they had been there the whole time.
They didn’t acknowledge her at all.
‘They must be coming soon,’ Sevrin grumbled. ‘If Ivaar has sought help, it should have arrived by now. What’s the delay? Or are they holding back simply to torture us?’
‘I don’t know,’ Eadmund sighed, as irritable with the waiting as Sevrin. ‘Ayla sees a large fleet. She sees ambitious men. More than one.’
‘Well, it would be a bad case of the fates if Ivaar went and fucked his own chance of overthrowing you by getting too greedy!’ the large, bearded man laughed.
‘Eadmund!’
Jael clenched her jaw.
‘Eadmund! Supper is on the table. What are you still doing out here?’ Evaine snapped as she grabbed Eadmund’s arm, attempting to pull him away from his conversation.
Eadmund turned to her and Jael was pleased to see annoyance in his eyes. ‘Evaine,’ he said firmly, ‘we’re discussing things here. I will come to the hall when we’re done. You start without me.’ He stared at her and waited, watching as her face twisted and her lips pouted, and she finally relented, releasing his arm.
‘Fine. But do not be long. The food will get cold!’ And with a moody growl, she swung around and headed off in the direction of the hall.
Jael watched as Eadmund turned back to his conversation without even blinking.
‘If only Ayla had been able to get through to your wife,’ the large man muttered. ‘Or your sister.’
‘Ayla said that they’d locked her out. She couldn’t get through. They were doing something to stop the dreamers watching them.’
‘That doesn’t sound good. Perhaps they’re in danger?’ Sevrin wondered.
‘I hope not. I just wish that I’d sent someone to Tuura. We need her help.’
Jael felt a tightness in her stomach.
Oss.
She thought of Eirik and all that she had promised him.
Oss...
35
‘What are you doing here?’ Meena was too surprised to feel shy as Berard crept up behind her. She glanced around, but he was alone.
They were alone.
Meena was on her knees by the stream where the slaves and servants would come to bathe and wash their clothes. She was relieved that it was the latter she was doing, not the former.
‘I followed you,’ Berard mumbled. ‘I have been... worried. About how you are.’
‘Oh.’ Meena picked up her cloak, which she had been scrubbing in the cool water. She bit her lip. As desperate as she was for his help, telling him what Jaeger and Morana were doing would only get Berard in trouble.
She wanted to cry, but instead, she ducked her head, hiding her eyes.
Berard bent down beside her, trailing his hand in the water. It was a fine morning, and he had no cloak himself, but he didn’t need one. Summer was fast approaching, and he could feel a trickle of sweat running down his spine, or perhaps that was simply brought on by discomfort? ‘You’re alright, then?’ he wondered, trying to see Meena’s eyes underneath her wild hair. ‘My brother, he is treating you well?’
Meena didn’t want to look at him. She was a terrible liar.
‘Meena,’ Berard sighed as he dropped to his knees and lifted her chin. ‘I want to help you. If, if Jaeger is mistreating you, I could help.’
Meena turned her face away, imagining Morana watching her. ‘He is... not,’ she said firmly. ‘He is treating me well. You should go. He would not want to see you here, talking to me.’ She scrambled to her feet and hurried away, dripping her cloak behind her.
Berard blinked in surprise. He was certain that she was about to say something else. And he was not sure he believed anything she had said.
But what could he do?
‘I’m leaving!’ Berard called after her. ‘In three days...’ His voice trailed off, disappearing beneath a chorus of quacking ducks as they came in to land on the stream.
Meena didn’t turn around, so Berard took a slow, deep breath, curled his shoulders, and walked away.
‘It sounds bad,’ Beorn agreed. The soldiers were now keeping them away from Sea Bear, and he was starting to go stir crazy. Stuck in the stables. Wandering around the bleak fort. Unable to leave.
Jael didn’t want to think about how bad it sounded because she was not on Oss, preparing to defend it with Eadmund. ‘But they can hold out. That fort is old, but it’s strong. The walls are thick.’
‘And Ivaar doesn’t have any sea-fire,’ Fyn adde
d as he stood, jiggling anxiously before them. ‘The gates might hold?’
‘Well, now that Edela is better, perhaps she can remember how to make it?’ Jael said, an idea forming quickly. ‘It would come in handy if we can get in behind the ships attacking Oss.’
‘If only we still had the catapult,’ Beorn grumbled, frowning at Tig who knocked his nose into him, trying to get Jael’s attention.
‘I’ve seen how quickly you can make a catapult, Beorn,’ Jael smiled, feeding Tig another carrot.
‘True.’
‘It’s one day’s sailing from here to Andala. Maybe another day to make the sea-fire, and build the catapult, then we head for Oss.’
‘But...’ Fyn said, looking less hopeful. ‘We don’t even know if Edela can remember how to make the sea fire.’
‘I wrote it down!’ Edela announced cheerfully. ‘And tucked it into a little box under the floorboards in my cottage.’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘I couldn’t trust myself to ever remember it again! And I had Aleksander hide a few extra jars too. Just in case.’ She was sitting at the table, her cheeks pink, her eyes alert.
‘But what if they can’t hold out?’ Eydis panicked.
Jael put her arm around Eydis’ tense shoulders. ‘Your brother can hold them out,’ she said firmly. ‘If he knows that we’re coming, he’ll hold them out.’
‘But how will he know?’ Eydis wondered.
Jael smiled at Edela. ‘Because I’m going to go to Oss and tell him. Tonight.’
Axl had turned feverish, so Aleksander left him with Amma, and hunted through the forest, desperately trying to remember anything Edela had taught him as he’d followed her about over the years. She had always been trying to tell him and Jael about whatever plant she was handling, but they had both been far too busy rolling their eyes to listen carefully.
Aleksander could imagine Edela rolling her eyes at him now.
If she was still alive.
He needed to find herbs to stop Axl’s fever and heal his wounds, but in the dull light of the tightly packed forest, he was struggling to find anything that would be of use. Dropping to his knees, Aleksander dug around the forest floor and finally, happily, found a small yarrow bush struggling out from behind a tree trunk. The delicate, green leaves were just what he needed for Axl’s leg wounds. Pulling the entire bush out of the ground, he stood and shook the leaves from his knees, then turned back around and cocked his head.
The tree was a white willow.
White willow...
And dropping the yarrow bush, he dug out his knife and chipped off some of the bark. Chewing on a bit of that would help Axl’s fever.
Satisfied with that as a beginning, Aleksander slipped the bark into his pouch, picked up the bush, and headed back to his patient.
Jaeger scratched his head. He needed a haircut, though he wondered if it mattered anymore.
His mind kept wandering to Axl Furyck and his wife, imagining her in his arms. His bed. Next to him as he sat on his throne. King of Brekka.
‘Do you agree?’ Haaron asked shortly, glaring at his son, annoyed that he wasn’t listening.
Jaeger yawned. ‘Agree?’
‘That we need to bring in more shipbuilders. At this rate, we’ll have no more than half a fleet by winter. Eldon was saying that his brothers are skilled shipbuilders. They live in Solt. I shall have Berard send them back here when he arrives. We need to double this speed, don’t you agree?’
Jaeger nodded, not caring.
‘Good,’ Haaron said, irritated both by the slowness of his shipbuilders and the disinterest of his son. He walked Jaeger out of the shed, back towards the castle. ‘I thought you might have shown more interest,’ he snapped. ‘You’re hardly going to be able to take back your wife and exact your revenge upon the Furycks without ships.’
Jaeger spun towards his father. ‘Is that so?’ he growled. ‘You’d be surprised what I can do without ships, Father!’ And he stalked off ahead of Haaron, desperate to get back to the book.
Haaron swallowed, surprised by his son’s tone, which was odd, he thought, having been on the receiving end of his angry outbursts for over twenty years.
Something was different, though, but what?
Jael vomited behind the shed.
‘Are you alright?’ Fyn asked, not knowing what to do.
‘Fine,’ she said dismissively, clearing her throat, wiping a hand over her mouth, wishing she had some water. ‘Let’s get going. I want to check on Kormac’s progress with the weapons. We’re going to need a lot more than we have, especially if Gerod has a mind to take the rest of ours away.’
Fyn didn’t stop frowning as he followed her.
‘Speaking of that slimy shit,’ Jael grumbled, surprised to see Gerod walking towards them, flanked by two columns of temple guards.
‘Still here, I see,’ he smiled serenely, his cheeks shining like newly polished apples. His eyes, though, remained frozen with menace. ‘I am surprised. What exactly is keeping you here now?’
‘You.’
He laughed. ‘That’s right, me! Well, not much longer now, I promise.’ He glanced at Fyn, who was glowering at him. ‘From what I hear, your brother is in a bad way. Your husband, if you can still call him that, is about to be in a bad way. And you...’ he sighed happily. ‘You are right where we want you.’ He nodded to the guards to carry on ahead of him. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, we need to go and remove your men’s weapons. Just in case you were planning something... foolish.’ And, sweeping his black cloak around himself, he knocked into her shoulder as he passed.
Jael watched him go, too surprised to be annoyed.
Fyn spluttered beside her. ‘But, but... what are we going to do now?’
Morana studied Haaron, wondering why she was bothering with the pretence. She needed to be upstairs in Jaeger’s chamber, studying the book instead.
‘You have no explanation?’ Haaron wondered as he walked to the window, peering down to the harbour. ‘You see nothing unusual about him?’
Morana yawned. ‘Your son is angry. I see a lot of anger in him. But it is buried deep. He is angry at you. It is hard-worn, built up over many years.’
Haaron sighed. That made sense, of course, but there was more, he knew. He remembered what Karsten had warned, about Morana spending her time in Jaeger’s chamber. Turning, he studied the dreamer as she wriggled on the stool, ignoring the cup of wine he had given her, shaking her bird’s nest of hair. ‘Do you see much of Jaeger?’ he asked lightly. ‘Do you dream about him?’
Morana stopped wriggling and looked up, her eyes sharp. ‘Why are you asking?’
‘I don’t know you, Morana. Not yet, at least,’ he muttered, walking back to the fire, dragging a stool towards her. ‘And you seem reluctant to tell me much about anything. Your mother... she was very helpful to me. She cared about my future. About my kingdom.’
Morana tightened her jaw, her irritation with that statement palpable. ‘Perhaps my mother told you what you wanted to hear, instead of what you needed to hear,’ she sneered. ‘You disliked your son from birth. Jealous of how much love your wife gave to him. More than the others. He was sickly, small, not expected to live. In fact, he almost died, didn’t he? But he was brought back from the shadows of death. So your wife loved him and ignored you. And you hated him with every breath you took because of it. My mother helped that feeling to fester into a stinking wound that you’ve carried around and picked at all through his life.’ Morana sat up straighter, narrowing her gaze. ‘How did that help you or your son? Now he hates you and so does your wife!’
Haaron didn’t move.
Her words jabbed at him, and he felt the truth in them. ‘Then how can you sit there and say that he is no threat to me? That there is nothing wrong, nothing I should worry about?’ he snorted. ‘Your words make no sense. They are just a jumble of sounds intended to distract me from what is right in front of my face! Something is wrong with my son, and you will not tell me the truth!’
Moran
a was unmoved. ‘You are a king, with a son you have maligned since birth. How should you expect him to be?’ she asked coldly. ‘All I can do is tell you what I see. Not make up tales to help you sleep at night! I see no new threat in him at all. He has always hated you. And he always will.’
Haaron stared at Morana, cocking his head to one side.
He barely knew the woman, but he was sure that she was lying.
‘You’re not as happy as I thought you’d be,’ Morac noted as they watched Eadmund up on the ramparts, issuing orders, his arms flailing about with urgency. His men were bringing up wood, attaching sharpened poles to deflect any attempts to use ladders against the walls.
‘Who would be happy living like this?’ Evaine grumbled, jiggling Sigmund against her shoulder, certain that he’d just vomited down the back of her newest dress. ‘About to be attacked by some ever-increasing, invisible army? All of Eadmund’s attention is on the fort when it’s not on that dreamer!’ she spat, glancing around, but there was only Runa nearby, talking with Isaura.
Morac frowned. ‘Would you rather he wasn’t paying attention to protecting us from an attack?’ he wondered incredulously. ‘You do realise that Ivaar wants to kill Eadmund, and if he sees that boy,’ he said, pointing to Sigmund, ‘he will kill him too! Make no mistake that Ivaar will not let Eadmund live if he gets into the fort.’ He glared at Evaine, wishing that she would heed his warning.
She didn’t.
‘But what does that have to do with the dreamer? Why is he always with her?’ Evaine frowned as she watched Ayla approach Runa and Isaura, all three of them looking her way.
Morac would have shaken her if she wasn’t gripping a baby to her chest. ‘Evaine,’ he hissed. ‘That dreamer is the only way Eadmund has to see what is coming. To see what he can do to keep us safe. Save your jealousy for when Ivaar and his allies are defeated, and we are free. It will not help Eadmund, and ultimately, it will not help you to be obsessing over her!’ And feeling himself losing any sense of control over his temper, he stepped away from his daughter and hurried past Runa towards the ramparts, determined to see if he could do anything to help.