Night of the Shadow Moon

by A. E. Rayne

  ‘If we slip in through the kitchen door while they’re asleep...’ Jael mused.

  ‘It will be locked!’ Alaric exclaimed, shaking at the mere thought. He couldn’t imagine attempting such a reckless thing. With the elders so close? The dreamers? All controlled by The Following? He reached for another flatbread and smothered it with honey, his eyes darting about, studying the eager faces sitting around the table. ‘It is locked every night before the kitchen staff take to their beds.’

  ‘Locked how?’ Kormac asked, wondering what tools he could use to break through the door.

  ‘With a bolt and a key,’ Alaric muttered, thinking hard. ‘Two bolts, if I remember rightly. One top, one bottom.’

  ‘For a kitchen?’ Biddy looked surprised as she filled Alaric’s cup with fresh milk. ‘The elders are not a trusting bunch, are they?’

  Edela was at the table, sitting between Jael and Alaric. ‘And what about you, dear Alaric?’ she smiled. ‘Is there anyone you know in the kitchen, perhaps? Someone who would be inclined to leave the door unlocked?’

  Alaric shook his head quickly. ‘No, no, no. I should not think so. No.’

  Edela fluttered her eyelashes as she sipped her milk. ‘Oh, that’s a shame. Are you sure now? No one at all?’

  Alaric suddenly took great interest in his plate, avoiding her eyes. ‘Well, there might be someone I know, someone I could ask. But... even if I could trust her once, how would I know that she was not bound to The Following now?’

  ‘It’s a fair point,’ Branwyn called from her chair by the fire. She was cradling her red-cheeked granddaughter who was busy sucking on a cloth. ‘We must assume that everyone in the temple is bound now.’

  ‘What about Berta?’ Kormac wondered. ‘Her sister works in the temple kitchen, doesn’t she?’

  ‘Does she?’ Jael looked hopeful. ‘Well, perhaps you could go and visit her, Branwyn? See how she is? Perhaps she would let you talk to her sister?’

  Branwyn sat up immediately. ‘Well, yes, I can do that. Here, Kayla, take the baby. I need to get myself ready. Gisila, why don’t you come with me?’

  Gisila, who was sitting on her bed braiding Eydis’ hair, looked up. ‘Yes, alright, I’ll just finish here.’

  ‘It’s too dangerous,’ Alaric fretted.

  ‘We have to get into the temple,’ Jael insisted. ‘We must rescue Marcus. Kill Gerod. Free Tuura. Take back my sword. We can’t do any of that if we can’t even get inside!’

  Aleksander had left Amma and Axl early that morning, determined to see if he could find Gant; worried that perhaps Axl was right and they had simply missed him.

  Or worse.

  He had started walking down the road, trying to guess how many stones were rolling around in his boots. Wishing he had a horse.

  And then the rain had come down.

  Great sheets of icy water soaked him through until his boots squeaked and his trousers rubbed together, and the back and front of his tunic stuck to his skin like a wet dog’s fur.

  He thought of Andala and Jael and a fire.

  And then he heard a low, groaning sound. Thunder? Aleksander squinted, wiping the rain from his eyes. The road was muddy and narrow, surrounded on both sides by tall fir trees. Not the best place to be standing in a storm. He glanced up at the dark sky, considering his options: he could disappear into the trees, or run further ahead to find a clearing to wait out the storm.

  Then he frowned.

  That wasn’t thunder.

  And running now, slipping in the mud, he felt his spirits lift as he raced down the road towards the Brekkan army. ‘Gant! Gant!’ Aleksander’s voice was lost amongst the heavy rain, and he was out of breath and ready to drop to the ground, but he could see Gant now at the head of a long line of soldiers.

  Warriors.

  Brekkans.

  They had come for their new king.

  Aleksander threw his head back into the rain and howled with happiness.

  ‘You have done well!’ Yorik’s usual calm demeanour was replaced with childlike glee as he took Morana in his arms, overcome with relief. ‘I always knew you would find the answer!’

  Morana stepped back, eyeing him moodily. ‘Is that so?’ She walked around the only room of his very modest cottage. It was no better than the stone chamber her mother had spent her life in; sparsely furnished with a bed, a table, a chair, a small fire pit, and a chest.

  It was a solitary, meagre life for the most powerful man in Hest.

  Was he really the most powerful man in Hest?

  ‘What do you mean?’ Yorik was quickly calm again.

  ‘I had a dream. You were planning to have the Followers take over, find the answer without me,’ she snarled, rounding on him, her tongue sharpening. ‘You did not appear to believe that I would find the answer at all.’

  ‘Morana,’ Yorik smiled patiently. ‘Translating the ritual was all that mattered. Not who translated it.’ He reached for her hands, trying to soothe her ragged mood. ‘I am pleased that you managed it, of course, but it hardly matters in the end. We are all working towards the same outcome.’ He didn’t blink as his eyes claimed hers. They were forceful and demanding of her. Wanting her submission. Needing to see her bend to his will.

  There could only ever be one true leader of The Following.

  And it would never be Morana Gallas.

  Gant quickly found Aleksander a horse, and together they rode back to find Axl and Amma.

  The rain had eased to a welcome drizzle, and Aleksander was able to make himself heard. But what he was saying made no sense to Gant.

  ‘Ravens? Wolves? You think they were sent to kill you?’ He shook his damp hair, his weary, grey eyes filled with disbelief.

  ‘Jaeger Dragos has the Book of Darkness,’ Aleksander said with a sigh. ‘And that’s a problem for us all. Who knows what it can do. All I can tell you is that we’re lucky to be alive.’

  ‘But why Tuura?’ Gant wondered, eager to get out of the saddle, despite the fact that it was barely midday.

  ‘Jael’s in danger,’ Aleksander said, suddenly overcome with fear. He’d spent all of his energy on trying to save Axl and Amma, and now that he finally had, the worry about Jael came rushing towards him like a wave.

  ‘How do you know?’

  Aleksander dropped his head. ‘I had a dream.’

  Gant laughed. ‘Why is everyone turning into dreamers all of a sudden?’

  ‘No, not that sort of dream. A dreamer came to me, told me to leave, to get to Tuura. Said we’re all in danger.’

  ‘What dreamer?’ Gant asked suspiciously.

  ‘The Widow,’ Aleksander mumbled, glancing around, but Oleg had slipped back to check on the men, and they were alone.

  Gant’s eyes widened. ‘The Widow?’ He rolled his tongue over his teeth. ‘The Widow? The same woman who kills people for gold? Who hides away in case someone finds her because she’s responsible for so much evil? That Widow? I thought she was just a myth? A story to scare children?’

  Aleksander didn’t know where to begin. ‘Trust me,’ he said in the end. ‘I know it makes no sense. You just have to trust me. She warned me about the ravens. Warned me about the wolves coming too. She guided me to the river so that we could escape.’

  Gant felt too tired to argue, so he frowned instead.

  ‘What about Osbert?’ Aleksander wondered. ‘How did that go?’

  ‘Go?’ Gant sighed. ‘That was easy enough. The men were relieved, ready to follow Axl. Happy to be rid of the little worm.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Killing him like that?’

  Gant inhaled sharply. ‘I could have challenged him to a fight. He could have died with a sword in his hand. But he was no brave warrior or noble leader. He was a shit stain on the arse crack of the Furycks. He wasn’t worth Vidar’s time.’ He looked away, into the trees. ‘How far away are we now, do you think?’ he wondered, quickly leaving that subject behind.

  Aleksander was
surprised to see Gant so affected by killing Osbert. He wasn’t sure how he would have felt himself. Murdering a king would have attracted the attention of the gods, especially a Furyck king. And he knew that Gant was suspicious enough to be unsettled by that.

  But hopefully, the gods would be grateful for what he did, rather than choosing to punish him for what was truly a merciful act for all of Osterland. ‘Up here,’ Aleksander said, pointing to the left, recognising the strange, leaning tree that marked their shelter. ‘Best dismount here.’

  And clambering down from their wet horses, and feeling their wet clothes sticking to them, they disappeared into the trees.

  Berard knocked on the door, his heart racing.

  He had seen Jaeger with his father, inspecting the building of the new piers. He knew that he didn’t have long.

  ‘My lord?’ Egil answered the door to Berard’s disappointed face. ‘I have not seen you here for some time. Your brother is not here, however. Perhaps you can come back later?’ His rotund frame filled the entire doorway, and he made no move to step aside.

  ‘Oh,’ Berard swallowed. ‘Well, in fact, Egil, I wondered if I had left something here. Perhaps I could come in and quickly see?’

  Egil frowned, certain that he had not seen anything out of place, but he could hardly refuse a son of the king, no matter how keenly his master guarded his chamber. ‘Of course,’ he muttered reluctantly, ushering Berard inside. ‘Although, I have cleaned this place from top to bottom many times since you were last here and I’ve not found anything belonging to you. What is it that you’re missing?’

  Berard had thought of his excuse ahead of time but promptly forgot it as he stepped into the chamber and came face to face with Meena.

  Her eyes widened in surprise at his unexpected arrival.

  ‘My lord?’ Egil prompted. ‘What have you lost?’

  ‘Oh, oh...’ Berard clutched at the strands of memory that were evading him. ‘My ahhh, my tweezers.’

  ‘Your tweezers?’ Egil frowned. ‘Well, I shall take a look around.’

  ‘Thank you, Egil,’ Berard said quickly. ‘They were my grandfather’s, you know, very special to me. And I feel quite lost without them. I’ve looked everywhere I can think of. I just don’t want to leave them behind when I go. I’ve never had a pair like them.’

  Egil wandered up and down the chamber, taking his task seriously as Berard stepped nervously towards the table where Meena sat.

  She was shaking.

  ‘Are you alright?’ he whispered, watching as Egil checked under Jaeger’s bed. ‘He hasn’t hurt you?’

  Meena gulped, her eyes snapping to Egil as he emerged, shaking his head.

  ‘Nothing there, my lord,’ Egil said with a groan as he staggered back to his feet. ‘I’ll keep looking.’

  Berard’s eyes rested on the book that lay on the table. He was surprised to see that Jaeger was keeping it out in the open now. But then again, he was surprised by everything Jaeger was becoming.

  ‘I’m alright,’ Meena murmured as Egil walked to the other end of the chamber. ‘You shouldn’t be here.’ She was tapping her head frantically now. ‘Go. Quickly.’

  She looked terrified. He wanted to take her with him.

  ‘I’m sorry to say, my lord, but I cannot see your tweezers,’ Egil said as he returned, red-faced, glaring at Meena.

  ‘Well, I do appreciate you looking, Egil,’ Berard smiled, trying to sound cheerful. ‘Please keep an eye out for them, though. They might turn up. No doubt just after I’ve departed for Solt!’ He walked to the door. ‘Goodbye, Meena,’ he nodded. ‘Egil.’ And dropping his head, Berard slipped out of the room.

  Egil shut the door firmly, and Berard was left in the corridor, fighting the urge to go back inside and rescue her.

  ‘What are you up to, Little Brother?’ Karsten mused from across the corridor. He had a toothpick between his teeth, which he removed as he considered Berard. ‘I would think, after yesterday, that would be the last place you’d want to go?’

  Berard looked up and down the torchlit corridor. ‘I’ve lost something,’ he muttered. ‘I thought it might be in there.’

  ‘What? You mean your servant? That bug-eyed girl?’

  Berard bristled as he hurried forward. ‘She is not a bug-eyed girl, Karsten!’ he said forcefully. ‘She is an innocent woman who is being kept prisoner by Jaeger, and I wanted to see if she was alright. After what he did to Elissa?’ he hissed, shaking his head, realising that his tongue had run away with him. ‘I must go. As you say, it’s better that I’m not here.’ And turning away he made to leave, but Karsten grabbed his arm.

  ‘Why does he have her in there?’ he wondered quietly. ‘He has his own servant. Why does he want her?’

  Berard shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘But I don’t think she’s safe there with him.’

  Karsten let go of his brother’s arm. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s go for a walk. You can tell me all about it.’

  Berard didn’t think that sounded like a good idea, but Karsten was already striding off ahead without him, so with one last look at Jaeger’s door, Berard scrambled after him.

  Morana was in a frantic state as she shuffled through Varna’s prized gardens, foraging for what she would need for the ritual. Many of the herbs required were those she used regularly: mugwort, fennel, rosemary. But others were more obscure: snakeweed, crab apple, plantain. She hoped that her mother had thought to plant those.

  It was not just herbs that would make this ritual work, though. There were mushrooms, seeds, stones, and bones to find. Mead and food to prepare. Gold coins to collect. Yorik had offered to help her with the preparations, but she was surprised to realise that she did not want his company. And besides, he was going to have the more unpleasant task of talking to Jaeger.

  It was time that the Bear found out what role he needed to play.

  Amma was overcome with relief at the sight of Gant. She threw herself into his wet arms, sobbing. ‘Thank you!’ she cried. ‘Thank you!’

  Gant was quickly uncomfortable with her affection, having been the one who had just murdered her brother. He eased Amma out of his arms and turned to Axl. ‘You’ve had a nice little adventure then, my lord?’

  Axl stared up at him. ‘My lord? Is that what I am now?’ He couldn’t even stand, was wet through and stinking, covered in bird holes and blood-crusted wolf wounds, aching all over and absolutely starving.

  But the happiest he had felt in a long time.

  ‘It is.’ Gant couldn’t help but smile as he looked down at the pale-faced, shaking mess that was his new king. ‘I’m just sorry that it took so long. Three years too long.’

  ‘True,’ Axl laughed. ‘But I don’t plan on being a king who holds grudges. Except, perhaps, against one man.’

  Amma looked at her feet, not wanting to think of Jaeger again.

  ‘Well, now that you have an army of men and a fleet of ships behind you, King Axl of Brekka, I imagine there’s something you can do about that. And soon.’ Gant glanced around at their lopsided shelter which had suffered under the onslaught of rain. ‘But perhaps we need to get out of here first and see what all this fuss is about in Tuura? Your men should be here soon. And then we can find you an amenable horse for the rest of the way.’ He looked around at the three of them: filthy and wet, their clothes ripped to pieces, wounds everywhere. ‘For all of you, I think.’

  Axl smiled, liking the sound of that very much indeed.

  39

  Ivaar stood next to Borg Arnesson, watching as the ships were pulled ashore.

  He tried to keep the shock from his face; the sheer surprise he felt at how many there were. He made some quick calculations as Borg clapped him on the back, whooping with joy.

  ‘My cousins!’ Borg cried, smiling at Falla. ‘We breed like rabbits in my family!’ He patted her belly, anticipating the many sons she would give him.

  The new King of the Slave Islands would need a hall full of sons.
/>   Falla did not look so enamoured with the hairy, tattooed men who were clambering down into the water, calling to her husband. They would all need feeding and housing, and the ale was almost gone.

  She hoped that Borg had plans to leave straight away.

  ‘Well, that should give us... 16 ships!’ Rolan Arnesson exclaimed, tipping the last of his ale down his black-bearded mouth. He lifted his empty cup towards Falla who glared at him and turned away, heading back to the hall. ‘Enough to defeat your brother?’ he asked, nudging Ivaar.

  Ivaar felt sick.

  He had two ships. The Arnessons now had 14. ‘I would think more than enough,’ Ivaar said distractedly. ‘Where did your family get so many ships from?’

  ‘We’ve had a good few years since our fathers died,’ Borg said, picking his nose. ‘They never had much ambition. Too easily led by their cocks. Not enough up here.’ He tapped his black hair and grinned. ‘We decided to do things differently. Going up the Frozen Road, raiding. We took a lot of ships. Built a few more. And now?’ he sighed happily. ‘Now, we’re ready to rule.’

  Eadmund sunk into his chair. He could do no more to secure the fort. Everyone had come in from the outlying farms. Their weapons stores were healthy. They had a surplus of food. The fort itself was solid. They had done what they could to reinforce the gates, and dug out ditches around the walls, hammering poles into the trenches, sharpening their tops into spears.

  No assault their enemy made would come easy.

  If they got through the stone spires in the harbour.

  Warning fires were waiting, ready to burn all the way from the fort to the headland when it was time.

  They would know.

  Now, they just had to wait.

  Eadmund reached out for his son as Tanja approached, cradling him in her arms. ‘Here, give him to me,’ he smiled. ‘I’ll take him for a while.’

  Tanja looked surprised but grateful. She handed Sigmund to his father and hurried to the kitchen, eager for something to eat. Evaine had barely looked at the baby since they’d moved into the hall, and it was only Runa who Tanja could turn to for a break.