Night of the Shadow Moon

by A. E. Rayne

  ‘But can I get him back?’ Berard asked weakly, already knowing the answer.

  Hanna shook her head. ‘I don’t know. But if you do not take the book, your brother and Morana and The Following will destroy everything in Osterland. They seek the return of the Darkness, and that means the end of all life.’

  Berard swallowed, thinking of Meena. ‘But even if what you say is true,’ he whispered. ‘Even if I were to believe you, I cannot get the book. Jaeger keeps it in his chamber. And no one is getting in there.’ He gulped, staring at the archway, conscious of how long he’d been; wondering who else that boy was talking to.

  Hanna sighed. ‘There must be some way you could get it. He must leave sometime?’

  ‘I have to go!’ Berard stood up, overwhelmed by discomfort and terror. ‘I cannot be here, talking to you. I have to go!’

  ‘Berard!’ Hanna hurried to her feet. ‘The stone I gave you. It stops dreamers hearing what you say, seeing what you do. Please, whatever you do, keep it on you. Morana is dangerous, and the dreamers in Tuura will warn her if they see a threat to the book or your brother.’

  Berard nodded quickly, turning to leave. ‘I cannot get the book,’ he mumbled. ‘You should go back to wherever you came from. I cannot get the book.’ And he hurried through the archway without looking back.

  Hanna frowned, watching him go, wondering what she was going to do now.

  Ivaar had left the hall just after dawn, desperate to think.

  Borg’s cousins had been smart enough to bring barrels of ale with them and that had kept them all entertained since their arrival. But despite all the drunkenness, they were actively preparing to depart for Oss the next day.

  They had talked and argued and somehow planned a strategy. And now... now they would eat, drink, sacrifice to the weather gods and dream of the destruction they would cause and the kingdom they would claim.

  Ivaar felt sick.

  His men had looked at him with discomfort, desperately seeking his leadership, and he had avoided their eyes, hiding his away, trying to find an answer that he could bring to them.

  But it had been days now, and he still had no ideas.

  He walked along the beach, reluctantly heading back to the stinking little hall, his shoulders heavy and his spirit bleak. The Arnessons would take Oss. Kill everyone. Likely him and his men too.

  And he would help them.

  ‘You do not like our company, Ivaar the Bastard?’ Falla spat as she sauntered towards him in a thin, white dress.

  Falla Arnesson now, Ivaar reminded himself. Not a woman to be seen talking to. Not alone. Not in that dress. Borg had already fought two men who had dared to admire her plump figure.

  ‘You prefer to talk to the birds?’ she laughed, but there was no amusement in her eyes, only cold ambition and utter dislike of him.

  ‘Well, lady, I am a man who misses his wife and children. It’s not easy to live in another man’s hall when you have your own.’

  ‘Had, from what I hear,’ she sneered, apparently not bothered that her dress was flapping around, exposing her legs.

  The weather was rolling in towards them again, and Ivaar could smell rain. He wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. As impatient as he was to leave the island, he was less eager to start the journey that would end everything he had so desperately wanted to achieve.

  ‘Now, you’re just a man. Not a lord! Not a husband or a father. Just a nothing!’ Falla laughed.

  Ivaar bit his teeth together, unsure if he had ever met a more disagreeable woman. Perhaps Jael Furyck? No, he thought to himself. No, she was fierce and brave and beautiful, but this woman? She was coarse and vile and conniving. And he knew that she was trying to get him in trouble with her thin dress.

  And Ivaar did not need any more trouble. ‘Well, as you say, I’m nothing. But I’m also cold, so I think I’ll return to your hall, now that I’ve had some time to think.’

  ‘Think?’ she snorted, following him. ‘Think about what? Betraying my husband, perhaps?’

  Ivaar kept walking.

  ‘That’s what Mother Arnesson warned!’ she shouted over the cawing seabirds. ‘She warned Borg that one of his men would betray him! Will it be you, Ivaar the Bastard? If it is, I promise that it will be the last thing you ever do!’

  Ivaar frowned, striding away, desperate to escape her screeching which was as grating as the song of the angry birds that chased each other above his head.

  ‘Brother!’ Jaeger called as Berard emerged from the markets. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Berard froze, hoping that the woman had not followed him. He glanced around guiltily.

  ‘Are you hiding from someone?’ Jaeger wondered, peering behind his brother.

  Berard shook his head, his damp, brown curls shuddering around his face. The rain was turning heavy, and he was keen to get inside the castle and away from Jaeger. ‘No, no, I was just seeing if there was anything I might want to take with me tomorrow.’

  Jaeger stared down at Berard’s empty hands. ‘But you found nothing?’ he asked suspiciously, not noticing the rain at all. He wasn’t sure why he was suspicious, but he had stopped trusting his brother some time ago and now saw everything he did as a potential threat.

  Berard moved past Jaeger, brushing against his shoulder. ‘I must go,’ he mumbled. ‘I have a lot to organise. I need to see Father and –’

  ‘Wait!’ Jaeger gripped his arm tightly. ‘Have you seen Meena anywhere? Or Morana?’

  Berard felt a tightness in his chest. ‘Meena? Why? Has something happened?’ He turned, searching his brother’s scowling face for clues.

  ‘Happened?’ Jaeger laughed. ‘To Meena? No.’ He shook his head. ‘Morana has commandeered her for the ritual.’ He swallowed, realising that he had said too much.

  ‘Ritual?’ Berard’s chest tightened further.

  Jaeger let go of his brother’s arm, laughing even more, attempting to cover his slip. ‘Well, she’s always doing some strange thing, I suppose,’ he said casually. ‘Being a dreamer.’

  Berard didn’t move. ‘Oh, yes, of course. Well, I’ll tell Meena that you’re looking for her if I see her. But I doubt I will.’ He turned away from his brother and hurried towards the castle before Jaeger could say another word.

  Jael had second thoughts about meeting Beorn at the stables, not wanting to bring any attention to their plans. She went to Aedan’s house instead, picking up Alaric on the way.

  Kayla sat in a chair by the fire, nursing her daughter as Jael, Fyn, Entorp, and Alaric stood around the table with a sheet of vellum, a quill, and a pot of ink.

  ‘It doesn’t have to be perfect,’ Jael said encouragingly, noticing Alaric’s hesitation. ‘We just need an idea of what the inside of the temple looks like. How to get from the kitchen to the other chambers. Where we might expect to find the dreamers and elders. And the guards. The fewer surprises, the better.’

  Alaric took a deep breath and picked up the quill, dipping it into the pot of indigo ink. He scratched it against the vellum, making hesitant, shaky lines that he eventually started joining up, creating chambers. He could see the temple with his eyes closed after working there as a scribe for nearly fifty years, and his hand became steadier as his confidence grew.

  He stepped back and looked at the basic outline he had made. ‘This is how it was when I was last there,’ Alaric explained. ‘They didn’t have temple guards then. I can only guess where they might be sleeping.’ He frowned and pointed to a large chamber, leading off the kitchen. ‘Probably here. Where the scribes lived. Where I lived, once. But they will not all be sleeping, will they?’

  ‘No, some will be guarding the temple. Walking around. Watching the doors,’ Jael muttered, staring at the map. ‘And where do you think Gerod might have put my sword? If he kept it at all.’

  ‘Oh, I think he would have kept it,’ Alaric said. ‘A sword that important? Perhaps they will even try to use it themselves?’ He pointed to a very small room near Mar
cus’ chamber. ‘This is where the scrolls were kept. There are locked chests in there. Lots of shelves. A room of secrets. Only the elderman ever had the keys. Perhaps the sword is in there?’

  ‘Well, it sounds as though we’ll need to find those keys,’ Jael murmured. ‘And one guess who has them now.’

  Gerod was growing anxious as he paced in front of Marcus.

  The elderman was not a dreamer, he knew. There was nothing he could tell him, and yet, Gerod felt as though he had no one else to turn to for answers.

  Marcus sat before the empty fireplace, cold and hungry. He could feel the angry heat lifting off Gerod, and it disturbed him. He had never liked the man, predicting his bold-faced ambition on the very first day they had met, many years ago. They had both put their names forward to become the elderman, and Gerod had been furious when the Elder Council had elected Marcus. But that had been long before The Following had corrupted the temple, bending those who chose to be compliant to their will.

  Murdering those who did not.

  ‘The Brekkan army is coming,’ Gerod said, leaning towards Marcus, searching his eyes for signs that he had any information about that.

  Marcus’ eyes revealed his surprise but disguised his relief. ‘Why is that?’ he asked casually.

  Gerod lunged at him, blinking in Marcus’ face. ‘You tell me! Why are they coming here? What do they know? What do they seek to do?’

  ‘Why don’t your dreamers tell you?’ Marcus wondered sharply. ‘I’m not a dreamer. I have no knowledge of what they are doing or why.’ He sat back in the chair, uncomfortable with Gerod’s proximity. He was a disturbing man, with eyes so frantic they unsettled him. ‘Why are you not asking your leaders in Hest or your dreamers? I cannot help you.’

  Gerod stepped away, his nostrils flaring, his mind flitting all over Osterland. ‘How could Axl Furyck know what we are doing?’

  ‘Axl Furyck? What makes you think that he’s coming here because of you? His grandmother is here. He doesn’t know if she’s dead or alive. He would want to find that out, surely?’

  ‘With an army?’

  ‘You will start a war if you attack them,’ Marcus said plainly. ‘A war you must be prepared to finish.’

  Gerod rounded on him. ‘With the Book of Darkness, we can destroy anyone! You know that. We will destroy every kingdom!’

  ‘Of course.’ Marcus didn’t flinch. ‘As you say.’

  The elderman’s calmness disturbed Gerod even more. He strode towards the door, gripping his bony, white fingers around the handle as though he would break it. ‘My dreamers can see into your thoughts,’ he warned. ‘They will find any secrets you’re keeping.’

  Marcus held his breath as Gerod left the chamber, slamming the door behind him. He glanced towards the alcove.

  Through that alcove was his chest, his books, his clothes.

  And another door that led to the corridor.

  And his spare set of keys.

  Berard was beside himself.

  He had abandoned all thoughts of breakfast and scuttled straight upstairs to his chamber instead. Jaeger, he knew, was not in the castle now. He could go to his brother’s room, take the book, give it to Hanna. Leave with her, even.

  If she had not left already.

  He shook all over as he sat on his bed, wet through but not caring.

  Egil would be in the chamber. And Jaeger would return before he was across the square and he would surely kill him.

  Berard didn’t know why Jael had sent Hanna. Why she had dreamed of him at all. She sensed danger. That unsettled him too. What Jaeger was doing with Morana and the book...

  He closed his eyes, wanting to shut it all out.

  But he could leave. Tomorrow he was leaving. He would be away from it all. He would be safe in Solt. Although Hanna had said that they were hurting people.

  That they wanted to kill everyone.

  How could he run away like a coward and leave Meena in such danger? Berard opened his eyes and sighed, feeling as pathetic and pointless as his father had always insisted he was.

  Not brave in the slightest.

  Admitting defeat, he lay back on the bed, closed his eyes and saw Meena’s terrified face.

  They had finally decided upon a route around the temple, but Jael didn’t feel overly confident with so little time to plan; with not quite enough weapons; with no real knowledge of how many people they would have to face once they got inside.

  They would simply have to react in the moment.

  ‘Do you think we can do it?’ Fyn wondered as he kicked a stone down the street. ‘It feels as though we’ll be blind in that temple.’

  Jael tried to look confident as she wandered beside him, but she felt ready to fall down. Her stomach was rolling, and she wondered if she would, in fact, vomit again. ‘We can,’ she said. ‘It’s the only way we’ll get out of here alive, and we need to get home as quickly as possible to help Eadmund.’

  Fyn nodded but still looked troubled.

  ‘When a fight seems impossible, you have to find a reason to keep going. You have to claw your way to victory because giving up would mean losing everything you ever cared about.’ Jael stopped and turned to Fyn. ‘Think of your mother. She’s stuck there on Oss with Morac and Evaine. And getting out of here means that we can go back and make all of that right. We can get rid of both of them!’

  As pleasant as that thought sounded, Fyn did not look convinced in the slightest.

  Jael sighed. ‘Come on. Perhaps you just need something to eat!’ She grabbed his arm and pulled him along, past a column of soldiers who eyed her as though they would happily tear her skin from her bones.

  Jael ignored them and thought of her advice to Fyn. She had her own motivating reason to keep going now.

  Gerod.

  Jaeger became more enraged as he stomped back through the castle, searching for Meena. Yorik had been of no use. He had no idea where Morana was and was far too busy getting himself prepared for the ritual to give it much thought.

  Jaeger’s mind taunted him as he checked in every chamber, twisting his thoughts into dark conspiracies. He worried that she might have escaped. That someone had helped her.

  Berard?

  Morana?

  They both wanted to hurt him, he was sure. Or his father?

  ‘You look tired,’ his mother smiled as she walked out of the hall, her youngest grandchild, Kai, in her arms.

  Jaeger scowled at her with such ferocity that Kai burst into tears. He blinked, finally breathing, quickly irritated by the noise.

  ‘What is it, Jaeger?’ Bayla implored. ‘You are not yourself these days. What is wrong? Please, tell me.’ She patted Kai on the back, uncomfortable with his tears, quickly looking around for a servant or Nicolene.

  Jaeger ignored her, his attention suddenly claimed by the two bedraggled women walking through the castle doors: Morana, followed by an exhausted-looking Meena.

  Jaeger left his mother to deal with the wailing toddler and hurried to them. ‘Where have you been?’ he growled, snatching Meena’s hand, dragging her towards the stairs with a violent glare at Morana. ‘Where have you been?’

  Meena could feel Jaeger’s fury as it pulsed through his arm, down to the hand that was squeezing hers so tightly. She was too terrified to speak as he pulled her up the stairs behind him.

  Jaeger squeezed harder, unable to stop himself. ‘You belong to me, Meena, not Morana! You should not have left like that!’

  Meena almost lost her footing as she stumbled after him, lurching again from one horrible situation to another; watching in misery as he yanked her past Berard’s door. She was so distracted that she tripped over, crashing onto the flagstones with a crack.

  Jaeger glowered at her, even more incensed. ‘Get up!’ he seethed, tugging on her arm.

  Berard, roused from his bed by the commotion, opened his chamber door, his eyes rounding in horror at the sight of Meena on the ground, his brother, red-faced and mad-eyed, towering threateningly ove
r her. ‘What’s going on? What are you doing?’ he cried, bending down to help Meena up.

  Jaeger pushed him out of the way, shunting his brother against the wall. ‘Leave her alone, Berard!’ he yelled, and as Meena scrambled to her feet, he quickly pulled her down the corridor towards his chamber.

  Berard could hear Meena sobbing as she stumbled away. He took a deep breath and hurried down the corridor in the opposite direction, determined to find Karsten.

  43

  They stood around the cauldron, watching as Entorp lifted it up, tipping its boiling contents into a cloth-covered, stone bowl. Once the liquid had cooled it would be poured into water bags and those would be taken to Briga.

  Biddy looked nervously at Derwa. ‘You’re sure this will work?’

  ‘Well,’ Derwa muttered, moving her long, white braid away from the flames. ‘I do hope so. It has worked before.’ She glanced over at the table where Edela sat, sipping her tea. ‘Hasn’t it?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Edela smiled. ‘It has. It should keep them asleep for a few hours. We don’t want to knock them out for days!’

  ‘No,’ Entorp agreed as he eased the cauldron back onto its hook. ‘But nor do we want them to wake up before we’re done!’ He swallowed, staring at Biddy whose face was a ghostly mirror of his own. He could feel his heart quickening as he thought of having to go into the tower; worrying what he would do if the soldiers were wide awake.

  ‘You needn’t worry about that,’ Derwa tried to reassure him as she shuffled back to the table. ‘There’s enough belladonna in there for a good nap.’

  Entorp took a deep breath to steady his nerves, deciding that he needed to check the contents of his satchel again. The afternoon was already moving quickly, and he wanted to be prepared before night fell.