The Raven's Warning

by A. E. Rayne

  Else followed her gaze. ‘The book? Why?’ The look on Evaine’s face, now that she peered closer, was strange. Her eyes were wide and blinking, her chest rising and falling with speed. ‘Has the king sent you?’

  Evaine nodded quickly. ‘He has. He wants it down in the hall. We are to discuss ways to save Morana. He needs the book.’ She moved towards the table.

  Else hurried after her. ‘He would not send you, though,’ she insisted. ‘Not for the book. That is only for him. Or Meena.’

  Evaine spun around, glaring at the old woman, trying to assess how much of a problem she was going to become. ‘You are a servant. It is not your place to question a king. Or a lady, for that matter!’

  Else blinked, certain now that Evaine was up to no good. ‘You will not take that book. I will not allow it.’

  Evaine sighed. A big problem, she realised.

  And drawing her knife from the folds of her cloak, she stepped towards Else. ‘You will shut up, and sit down over there!’ she ordered, nodding to the nearest chair. ‘I have no problem stabbing an old woman, believe me!’

  Her eyes were hard, and cold, focused now, and Else believed her.

  ‘It is your choice whether you live or die. Try to stop me, and I will gut you and watch you bleed to death before I leave. Your choice entirely.’

  Else didn’t know what to do, and Evaine could see the indecision in her eyes. She jerked her knife towards her. It was bigger than the one she had stabbed Edela with and much sharper. She watched the servant shrink away from the glint of the long blade. ‘I will take the book, and you will stay quiet,’ Evaine growled, edging closer, pressing the tip of the blade against Else’s sagging neck, watching beads of blood burst from her skin.

  Else flinched, her eyes bulging in terror.

  ‘Good!’ Evaine exclaimed, hurrying to the book; slipping it into the empty satchel she had slung over her shoulder. ‘Now, you stay there, right where you are, and you will live to hear your master screaming at you.’ Evaine gulped, suddenly panicking that Jaeger would find her with the book.

  She had to leave quickly.

  Pulling the key from the lock, she opened the door, spinning around with her knife, but Else was stuck to the chair, still shaking, tears in her eyes. Evaine quickly shoved her knife into its scabbard and pulled the door closed, locking it after her, and running for the stairs that led to the kitchen.

  Draguta felt her body relax for the first time all day. ‘Good girl,’ she smiled, turning away from her seeing circle as Eadmund stumbled into the cottage. She had started to wonder where he had gotten to, but quickly smelling the ale on him, she frowned. ‘Do you think that’s the way to become a real warrior? Drinking? Falling and stumbling about like the drunk you used to be? I have no use for that Eadmund.’

  Eadmund was exhausted after another long day of being battered by Rollo in the scorching heat, and he was not looking for conversation or Draguta’s opinion about anything. ‘You wanted me to train,’ he said, heading straight for his bed, ‘so I trained. Rollo took me to the tavern after we’d finished. We’ll train again tomorrow. There is nothing for you to concern yourself with. I’m doing what you asked.’

  Draguta blinked, surprised to be dismissed so abruptly. She glared at Eadmund as he walked around the table, sitting down on his bed with a loud groan, ignoring both her and Brill, who lurked awkwardly nearby, wondering whether she should offer to help Eadmund with his boots. It was a small cottage, and Brill was struggling to know where to put herself; caught between always being on hand for whatever whim Draguta had, and wanting to disappear so as not to be noticed at all.

  ‘Well, I’m pleased to hear it,’ Draguta sniffed, turning back to her circle, deciding that it was best to leave Eadmund alone. He was not a problem yet, and she was eager to know if Evaine was clever and resourceful enough to make it to Flane without bursting into tears and turning back to the castle in a pathetic, sobbing heap.

  She hoped so.

  The stable hand boosted Evaine onto the small, grey horse he had chosen for her, happy with the clinking coins in his pouch but worried that the beautiful woman seemed to have no idea what she was doing. ‘Sure you want to go riding in the dark, miss?’ he murmured shyly.

  Evaine flapped him away as he fussed around her boots, making sure they were firmly in the stirrups. ‘I am more than sure,’ she insisted, swallowing her fears. ‘Now, move! Move out of the way!’ And sharply kicking her horse, she exploded out of the stables with an urgency to be gone before Jaeger discovered what she had done.

  Jael ate all that she could manage before curling up into a ball, eager to find Eadmund in her dreams again. She was trying to take her mind off Lyra, and the dragur, but she was also desperate to know where Eadmund was. She needed to discover what Draguta intended to do with him.

  So far, it didn’t appear that Draguta had plans to hurt him, but she wanted to know for sure. Or perhaps she didn’t? There was such a great distance between them now. It would take weeks, months even, to find her way to him. And it didn’t appear that Eadmund wanted to or was able to find his way to her.

  Listening to Aleksander rustling around in the leaves, Jael reached out and touched his shoulder. ‘Are you alright?’

  Aleksander jumped; he’d thought she was asleep. ‘No, I’m not,’ he admitted with a sigh. ‘I feel helpless, stuck here.’

  ‘Mmmm,’ Jael agreed, yawning. ‘But we can’t do anything about it except find our way home quickly. And keep ahead of the dragur.’ The thought of getting on Tig again so soon was daunting, but Jael knew that each day she would grow a little stronger. A little more able to cope.

  Back to herself.

  Somehow.

  ‘But what if it’s too late?’ Aleksander wondered.

  ‘For Hanna, you mean?’ It was dark, but the moon poked out from behind a bank of clouds, and Jael could see him nodding. ‘Even if you were in Andala, you couldn’t help her. Only healers and dreamers can do that. Only Entorp and Edela can save her now. And if they can, you know they will.’

  Aleksander was silent, listening to the wind rustling the leaves above their heads; listening to Thorgils moaning and groaning as he tried to get comfortable on the ground. ‘I thought there would be time. That I would be able to say...’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Thank you,’ he whispered. ‘I thought I’d be able to say thank you.’

  Biddy had returned to report that Ayla was weak but holding on.

  Eydis and Edela were relieved, and they both hurried into their beds early, determined to try dreaming again.

  And this time, it worked.

  Jaeger kept rubbing himself against Meena as they walked back to his chamber.

  ‘I have to go and check on Morana,’ Meena insisted, wanting to turn his mind to other thoughts, and his body away from hers. ‘Sleep there.’

  Jaeger didn’t think she had to. ‘I told you I’d get Evaine to do that,’ he slurred. He’d had far too much wine, though it felt pleasant to loosen his body and let his fears about Draguta retreat for a while. Just far enough so that he didn’t have to feel the suffocating panic about what she would do next.

  He didn’t want her to come back. Use the book against them.

  ‘But you didn’t see Evaine, so Morana will be all alone tonight,’ Meena reminded him. ‘She won’t be able to do anything for herself.’

  Jaeger sighed. Irritated. ‘Go, then, but first, come into the chamber, and I shall see you naked. In my bed. After I’m finished, you can go.’

  Meena nodded, trying not to grimace. Her arms were aching, and she didn’t want him touching any part of her. He was never gentle, especially when he’d had too much wine. She reached for the door handle, frowning suddenly at the voice from inside.

  ‘Help! Help!’

  Jaeger stared at Meena and grabbed the door handle himself, turning and pushing, but the door was locked.

  ‘Else?’ Meena panicked. ‘Else?’

  ‘Meena!’ Else cried. ‘O
h, Meena! It’s Evaine! She had a knife! She’s locked me in! She’s stolen the book!’

  Jaeger stared at Meena, his glazed eyes sharpening as he turned and ran down the corridor.

  Eydis could see Ayla.

  She stood before the throne, watching the woman who sat upon it barking orders at the dull-eyed slaves scraping and bowing before her.

  She was small, Eydis thought as she crept up to Ayla. Perhaps even Ayla’s age. No, older, she decided after taking a closer look. Olive skin, a square jaw, perfectly straight, dark hair framing a wide face with eyes that were burning with fire. Golden, like her throne.

  Swallowing, Eydis stopped, not wanting to go any further.

  ‘Her name is Briggit,’ Ayla murmured, turning around. ‘She murdered her grandfather. Stole the throne away from her uncles who had spent a lifetime dreaming of claiming it for themselves. From her mother too. She has them all bound. They bend to her will now.’

  Eydis blinked as Ayla turned back around, her gaze returning to the golden-eyed queen.

  ‘She is trying to kill us all. She waited in the shadows with her Followers. When they heard the Book of Darkness had been found, they emerged, and Briggit killed King Wulf, binding the army to her. She controls The Following, and they control Helsabor. The whole kingdom is theirs. And now their queen will weaken the other kingdoms so she can take them for herself,’ Ayla said, reaching down for Eydis’ hand. ‘And if you and Edela don’t break the curse, she will.’

  Jaeger ran until his ankle ached. All the way to the stables.

  The stable hand tried to act as though he had no idea what his king was screaming about, just as he had done when Morac had arrived earlier, but Jaeger threw him against a wall and the boy quickly confessed that he had given Evaine a horse. Though he had not thought anything of it, he’d insisted.

  Hours ago.

  Hours.

  Jaeger frowned, grabbing the boy’s tunic. ‘And she didn’t say where she was going? You didn’t see?’

  The freckle-faced boy shook his head, his face reddening as he heard the coins clinking in his pouch. His king was far too wild to notice, though. ‘It was dark, my lord. She rode off in a hurry. I don’t know where she went.’

  He sounded pathetic, Jaeger thought. Clueless.

  Shoving the boy away, he turned back to the newly appointed head of his army, a serious, heavily-scarred warrior named Gunter. ‘Send men after Evaine Gallas,’ he said. ‘Follow her. But don’t hurt her. And don’t approach her. She mustn’t see you. I want to know where she goes. I want to know where Draguta is.’

  12

  ‘You look well,’ Garren Maas smiled at Getta as she headed away from the hall, eager to take a moment for herself. He hurried to keep up with her, seeing that she didn’t appear to be slowing down. ‘Motherhood agrees with you. I’ve never seen you look more radiant.’

  ‘What do you want, Garren?’ Getta muttered irritably, trying to ignore the way his voice made her feel.

  He was impossibly handsome. Strong. Dangerous.

  Not her husband.

  Though, he had always wanted to be.

  ‘Want? To see you, of course,’ Garren said, pleased that after glancing around to check that her husband was not around, Getta finally slowed down. ‘You’ve been missed.’

  ‘I’ve hardly been gone,’ she snapped, flustered by how intensely his deep-blue eyes were studying her lips. ‘I’ve been with my son.’

  ‘Ahhh, yes, your son. Heir to the throne... as things stand.’

  ‘And what does that mean?’ His eyes were narrowed, demanding, and she didn’t look away.

  Garren inclined his head towards the gates, wanting to escape Ollsvik’s square which was busy, being a trading day. Three ships had just arrived from Alekka, and their crews were busy unloading furs, ivory, and soapstone onto carts. Getta was sure she saw the glint of amber too, and she felt impatient, wanting to go and see for herself, but she followed Garren through the gates, far away from the market.

  Garren Maas was ten years older than Raymon. An experienced warrior. An ambitious man, with an equally ambitious father; both men driven by an obsessive desire to claim the Iskavallan throne for their family. And once Garren’s obsession with defeating the Vandaals had excited Getta, but now he posed a danger to Raymon and their newborn son.

  ‘Your husband appears keen to help the Furycks,’ Garren said as they passed the steady flow of foot traffic heading into the fort. He led Getta past Ollsvik’s three full piers that stretched out into a narrow harbour, surrounded on both sides by steep mountains; their rocky peaks still covered in snow. ‘Formalising that alliance will weaken his position on the throne. And if Raymon falls to the Furyck’s ambition, I doubt anyone will have an appetite for your son to follow in his father’s failed footsteps. Not when they could find somebody more... suited to the role.’

  ‘You, you mean?’ Getta grumbled. ‘You’re positioning yourself to destroy Raymon? To take his throne? Now?’

  Garren ran a hand over his blonde beard, shaking his head dismissively. His hair was cropped at the sides, but long on top, tied in a knot that was working itself loose. ‘Would I do such a thing? No, it isn’t me you have to worry about. It isn’t me stoking the flames of rebellion in the darkened corners of your husband’s hall. Not at all. I wanted to warn you. To give you a chance to speak with him. If he meets with Axl Furyck, there will be consequences, and Raymon could very well find himself fighting for his life. You know how things go here. We are not a tolerant bunch.’

  Getta glared at a man who stumbled into her as he hurried past with a screaming toddler, feeling her milk leaking. She pulled her shawl around her chest, covering her dress. ‘The Furycks have not been enemies of Iskavall for many years. Ranuf and Lothar were welcomed here. Ollsvik is the only home I’ve ever known!’

  ‘It is not friendship they are in fear of, my love, it’s ambition,’ Garren breathed in Getta’s ear. ‘Axl Furyck wants to conquer Iskavall. To take it for Brekka. From what I hear, his ambitions exceed that of his dead father’s, and now that he’s killed Lothar, he’s setting his sights on Ollsvik.’

  Getta frowned. She did not doubt it, but still, if her husband was killed, what would happen to her? To her son? ‘Raymon will not be stopped,’ she said carefully. Quietly. ‘He is determined to proceed, encouraged, of course, by Ravenna. He will not be stopped meeting my cousins.’

  ‘Not even by a woman as persuasive as you?’ Garren leaned in as close as he dared, though Getta’s husband was only a boy and not likely to challenge his best warrior to a fight over his wife. ‘Or maybe it’s that you realise you chose the wrong man? You and your father both. Maybe you realise what a mistake it was to back the Vandaals over my family? Our claim has always been the strongest, as many will readily admit in private. If you want to save your husband, Getta, you should steer Raymon away from your cousins.’ He stepped back, turning towards the fort. ‘But then again, if you don’t... I might be looking for a queen myself soon. And your place was always destined to be by my side, one way or the other.’

  Getta stared after Garren as he strode away, not looking back, so confident with his broad shoulders and his arrogant swagger. She shuddered as the wind picked up her shawl, blowing it away from her, exposing the wet patches of milk on her dress. Hurrying to gather it back in, she turned after him, eager to return to her son.

  Else was surprised to still be in Jaeger’s employ after what Evaine had done, but he appeared not to blame her, which was a relief, though he had sent her to care for Morana, which, she supposed, was some form of punishment, if only for having to be subjected to the smell.

  But Else was not about to be defeated by a little stink.

  Dragmall had come to Morana’s chamber with her, carrying a bucket of hot water and herbs that he had picked and steeped to help wash away all the dark things that Varna and Morana had concocted over the years. Meena had joined them, bringing a fresh dress for her aunt. They were going to cleanse the entire
chamber, and then Morana.

  But as for trying to remove the curse?

  Well, they weren’t going to attempt that. Not directly. Still, the herbs and spices Dragmall had selected were useful for banishing dark magic. Though, Dragmall thought, considering the power of the caster, it was likely to be a stubborn curse.

  ‘At least it will remove the smell,’ Else grinned, sticking her cloth into the bucket, inhaling the astringent lemon and eucalyptus aroma of Dragmall’s concoction.

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘And once we bathe Morana, that should improve things further.’ He nodded at Meena who was not looking forward to her part in proceedings. She had been down to the kitchen and organised for the wooden tub in the laundry room to be filled with hot water. The kitchen servants were reluctant to do anything she asked until Jaeger arrived, growling at them to hurry up.

  And now the tub was filled with hot water, waiting for her aunt.

  Morana’s good eye flared as Meena lifted her off the chair, grabbing her arms, leading her towards the door. Morana stumbled, trying to turn away from her niece, wanting to go back to the chair.

  She had heard them talking, and she didn’t want to be cleansed by anything. It wouldn’t work, of that she was certain, and she couldn’t stand the smell.

  Dragmall quickly realised that Meena was unable to control Morana on her own. ‘I will help you get her downstairs,’ he said, taking one of Morana’s arms. ‘You will feel better when you’re clean, Morana, I promise.’ And gripping her arm firmly, he helped her towards the door.

  Having the very helpful information from Eydis’ dream, Edela laid it all out before Axl and Gant in Axl’s private chamber. Ayla’s knowledge of what was causing the sickness could not be proved, and it was better not to panic anyone, or provide false hope to those who were worrying about loved ones, or themselves.