The Raven's Warning

by A. E. Rayne

  ‘And the fletchers?’ Amma asked shyly, remembering that she was supposed to be helping Gisila. ‘We’ll need more arrows, won’t we?’ Gisila offered her the tray of cheese, but she quickly shook her head.

  Bram nodded. ‘The fletchers are busy. The sea-fire shed is filling up again. I have the armourers working on spearheads, arrowheads, helmets. We’re constructing more catapults too. They’ll take most of them to Hest, but we must have enough here. And the carpenters and shipbuilders are down at the harbour, where they have been since dawn. Everything is in hand, I promise.’

  Gisila was pleased to hear it, though she could not settle. Without Jael and Axl in the fort, she could not settle at all. She stood, smiling at her sister. ‘Come, have some supper,’ she urged, but Branwyn shook her head and looked away. Gisila was worried, noticing how Branwyn’s usually round cheeks appeared sunken and dull. She wasn’t sure she had eaten since Kormac and Aron’s deaths.

  And then there was Amma, who was looking oddly pale; worried about Axl no doubt. Gisila was worried about Axl too. The Iskavallans were not to be trusted. Ranuf had told her that enough times. What came out of their mouths was usually masking the plots they were brewing in the shadows.

  She hoped that Jael and Axl would be able to see through their lies.

  Axl hurried outside after Jael, not knowing what to say. He didn’t imagine his sister’s mood was going to help them convince Raymon Vandaal of anything except to pack up his family and leave.

  Jael saw a sodden Gant heading towards them as she turned around to her brother. ‘Say it.’

  Axl looked surprised. ‘What?’

  ‘You think I was wrong. Talking to Getta like that. It’s what Gisila would have said, no doubt.’ It was still raining, and Jael was already missing the warmth of the fire. ‘But Getta is going to cause us problems, so I’m not going to sit around in there pretending otherwise. We need to let her know that we’re not here to wring our hands and apologise. Not for killing Lothar and Osbert. They came into our kingdom. Stole your throne. They got what they deserved for that, and for what Lothar did to Gisila. They got what they deserved.’ Jael glanced at Gant who looked guilty, him being the one who had murdered Osbert.

  Axl blinked, feeling the rain running into his boots. It didn’t appear to be dampening his sister’s fiery mood. He looked up as Aleksander, Fyn, and Thorgils approached, having seen to the horses.

  ‘Not the best weather for tents!’ Aleksander grinned before seeing the scowl on Jael’s face. ‘What happened?’ He noticed Axl’s deepening frown, and he turned back to Jael. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Me?’ Jael tried to look innocent, but she felt bad. Tiredness had loosened her hungry tongue, and it wasn’t the best start, which was why she had hurried Axl outside, hoping to take a moment before trying again. She thought of Ranuf who would no doubt have been just as mortified as Gisila.

  She needed to start again.

  Taking a deep breath, Jael turned to her brother. ‘Let’s make sure everyone has a dry bed for the night, then we’ll bring some of the men back to the hall with us. Ivaar and Karsten. Rork and the Island lords. Beorn and Torstan. Maybe even Thorgils,’ she grinned, happy to see Thorgils’ smiling face. ‘And I promise to try and behave.’ Axl looked relieved, Jael thought as he nodded, disappearing with Gant.

  ‘Are you alright?’ Aleksander wondered, wanting to smooth away her intense frown. He had always done it, much to her irritation. It had been a good way to remind Jael to stop. To calm down.

  Now, he couldn’t touch her at all, and it still felt odd.

  ‘No,’ Jael admitted, looking from Aleksander to Thorgils, seeing that both of them knew what she meant, but not wanting to say anything more in front of Fyn. ‘Not really. But here we are, so I’d better start being alright. When we were in Hest, I just left Eadmund to do all the king and queen things. But now he’s not here, so I suppose I should try and get better at it.’ Jael ducked her head, looking to leave. ‘I’ll just go and see Tig, then I’ll head back to the hall. It should give Getta a chance to cool down. Though, after what I said, I’m not sure that’s possible.’ And remembering her cousin’s puckered face, she laughed as she pulled up her hood and headed for the stables.

  Having decided that Marcus needed a good meal and a chance to breathe some fresh air, Biddy brought him to Edela’s cottage, leaving Astrid to stay with Hanna.

  Edela saw that Marcus was barely breathing now as he chewed over what she had just revealed about her dream.

  ‘You’re sure Draguta was dead? That the knife had killed her? That she wasn’t just injured?’ Marcus leaned forward on the stool, rubbing a hand through his new beard.

  ‘Oh yes, the girl who stabbed her pulled the knife out and stuck it back in a few times. Her blood pooled on the floor. She was very dead. They left her there for a time, and Draguta did not move. Not once. Her eyes were fixed open, glazed even. And then they took her away. Left her body in a bedchamber while they discussed a pyre. The king had demanded a pyre, they said. But when the servants left, Draguta got up and walked out of the castle.’

  Biddy had barely blinked. ‘Was it an ordinary knife?’

  ‘No.’

  Marcus peered at Edela. ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘I don’t know, but it felt like a special knife.’ Closing her eyes, Edela inhaled slowly, squinting into the darkness. ‘It had symbols on it. The same symbols as Jael’s sword.’ She opened her eyes and stared at Marcus.

  Marcus froze.

  ‘What is it?’ Edela wriggled forward to the edge of her chair. ‘What do you know?’

  Marcus took a big gulp of his tea. ‘There was a rumour that Wulfsig, the swordmaker, had saved the materials from Jael’s sword, and made himself a knife. But when he died, none was found. Some thought it was just a story. A myth.’

  ‘Well, I hope it was just a story,’ Edela said slowly. ‘If the knife and the sword were made of the same materials, and that was the knife that killed Draguta, it didn’t work. Not in my dream.’

  ‘But what happened to her next?’ Biddy frowned. ‘Where did she go?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Edela admitted. ‘I didn’t see that part. I saw her on a horse, riding away with a girl. But I have no idea where they went. They looked to be escaping. It was dark.’

  ‘And she was very much alive? Not some sort of spirit?’ Marcus wondered.

  ‘No, not a spirit. She survived being killed. She was alive.’

  No one spoke.

  The fire sizzled, under assault from a steady downpour.

  ‘This is a worry,’ Marcus said, at last. ‘But we need to know more. We need some certainty about this knife. If it was in any way the same as Jael’s sword, then it changes everything. If it couldn’t kill Draguta, then how will Jael stop her?’

  Edela tried to calm her own rising panic. ‘I will try to dream about it. See if I can discover any more.’

  Biddy felt cold all over. ‘Who is to say the prophecy is still right? You’ve seen it yourself, Edela. With Jael. A dreamer’s vision can be wrong. Isn’t that what Lydea told you?’

  Marcus’ eyebrows were up. ‘You spoke with Lydea? A goddess spoke to you?’

  Edela nodded distractedly. ‘Yes, she said that Draguta is more powerful than they realised. That she can weave the threads.’

  Marcus hadn’t moved, but it was as though everything inside his body was shifting. Shades of dark and light were moving and changing and when he blinked it felt as though he was falling backwards into a great abyss. ‘If that is true, then I don’t know what hope we have of stopping Draguta. If that is true, she will become more powerful than the gods themselves.’

  ‘How?’ Edela wondered.

  ‘The Book of Darkness made her a threat before, but now?’ Marcus sighed, tiredness hindering his ability to focus. ‘If Draguta can weave the threads, if she can survive being killed by a magical knife, then she is truly capable of anything.’

  28

  The arrival of G
arren and Aldo Maas was the only thing that calmed Getta down. She allowed herself to be shown to the high table, taking a seat beside her husband, her temper bubbling at a frothing boil, her eyes occasionally darting to where Garren sat, whispering to his father, a sly look on his face.

  Raymon placed his hand on Getta’s knee. She quickly pushed it away.

  He had said nothing. Nothing to defend her or her family. Nothing!

  She was livid.

  But the Maas’ did not need to know that, so Getta clenched her fists and smiled at Reinhard, who was far more comfortable commanding men on a battlefield than he was navigating the tricky waters of social discourse. He kept glancing at his wife, who had a calmer air about her as she walked around the tables with the mead bucket, smiling at her guests as she lifted the ladle and filled their cups, occasionally nodding at her husband so that he might calm down and enjoy himself.

  Raymon looked up as Axl and Jael walked back into the hall, followed by a straggling train of wet men whose eyes were quickly on the fire and the mead bucket. Jael did not look to have improved her mood, he thought, staring at her stern face. Her brother seemed conscious of that as he made an attempt to smile, but Raymon felt his insides churn at the thought of trying to keep his wife and Jael from killing each other. Though, when he looked at the Queen of Oss, he doubted it would be much of a fight. Her face was covered in bruises and cuts, and, still dressed in her armour, she looked ready for battle.

  Reinhard was quickly on his feet, showing Jael and Axl to the high table while their men found their way to the few remaining seats. His eyes scoured the hall, checking the tables, suddenly worried that they wouldn’t have enough food.

  Jael didn’t notice as she took her seat next to Raymon, leaving Axl to sit between Getta and Ravenna. She reached for her cup which was already full of mead. Though it was too sweet, it was a welcome balm for her ratty mood and sharp tongue. ‘I apologise for keeping you waiting. We’ve had a busy time in Andala. Another attack. This time the dragur.’

  Raymon could see her closely now, and the cuts on her face appeared fresh.

  ‘They attacked Andala?’ He was speechless. ‘Your fort?’

  ‘Mmmm,’ Jael nodded. ‘After the dragon and the serpent, we were not at our best, but we managed to put them down in the end.’

  Raymon was wide-eyed. ‘How?’

  Jael frowned, realising that they hadn’t decided what to say about the Book of Aurea. It was never advisable to reveal your strengths or your weaknesses to your enemy; or to your neighbour who might one day become your enemy. She peered over the rim of her cup, noting the steely-eyed interest of some of the Iskavallans who were looking their way.

  ‘We trapped them. Burned them. Cut off their heads. Everything we could think of,’ Jael said casually. ‘I’ve no idea how many more are out there, but the ones who attacked us are ash.’

  Raymon looked disturbed. ‘Do you think they’ll come to Iskavall?’

  ‘They’ll come everywhere. Eventually. We have more enemies in the South than we ever imagined.’ Jael stopped herself, realising that no one wanted Briggit Halvardar to find out that they’d broken her curse, and though Andala was surrounded by dreamer protections, Rissna was not. None of them had brought their symbol stones, wanting Edela and Eydis to be able to watch over them.

  Getta was furious as she listened to Axl trying to make polite conversation on one side of her, while her husband appeared eager to talk to Jael on her other side. She didn’t want him to do anything other than demand an apology for her cousin’s appalling treatment of his wife. Pressing her hand on his knee, she squeezed hard.

  Raymon knew what Getta wanted, but he couldn’t interrupt Jael now.

  ‘That’s why we need to combine our armies. To attack Hest. Take the Book of Darkness. Destroy it. It’s the only chance we have of saving Osterland.’

  ‘And how do you know that?’ Getta sneered, leaning around Raymon. ‘Are you a dreamer now?’

  Jael ignored her cousin while a servant delivered her plate. ‘Yes. I am.’

  Getta sat back as her own plate was placed in front of her.

  ‘You are?’ Raymon was surprised.

  Jael grabbed a chicken leg and took a bite, nodding.

  Getta was not about to be batted aside so quickly. ‘Well, dreamer or not, why should we follow you? Why should we risk our army in your fight?’

  Axl stepped into the conversation with a fair amount of trepidation. ‘Because the prophecy says that Jael is the one to kill the woman who has the Book of Darkness. The one who sent the dragur, and the dragon, and the serpent. The prophecy tells of how Furia’s daughter will defeat her.’

  Getta snorted so loudly then that most eyes in the hall turned towards her. ‘Furia’s daughter? And why do you think that you’re Furia’s daughter? I’m just as much a daughter of Furia as you are. So is Amma. You’ve assumed that mantle as though it is yours alone, never giving either of us a thought.’

  Jael held her tongue.

  ‘I don’t imagine that either you or Amma would be capable of defeating this woman with her magic book, would you, Getta dear?’ Ravenna asked gently. ‘It sounds as though it’s something that only Jael is trained to do.’

  Getta glowered at her mother-in-law, though she did not disagree.

  Thorgils winked at Jael who tried not to roll her eyes. He nudged Aleksander, who looked just as amused by the sour faces at the high table. It was always entertaining watching Jael squirm as she tried to fight her temper and her innate dislike of behaving appropriately.

  ‘You are welcome to lead the Iskavallan army, of course,’ Jael said to her cousin. ‘No one is stopping you. Though I have my reasons for believing that the Furia’s daughter referred to in the prophecy is me. Perhaps I will tell you what they are later. In private. I’m sure you will thank me.’

  Getta frowned, not knowing what that meant.

  The pressure of her hand on Raymon’s knee was only growing, and eventually, Raymon realised that he had to bring up the matter of the murders. ‘It does not sit well with my wife or my people... that you and your brother were so eager to murder your kings. Two of them,’ he almost whispered. ‘Our kingdoms have always been close, but there are rumours... fears... that your ambition extends far beyond Brekka’s borders. That you wish to claim Iskavall for yourselves. That your push into the South is not about safety but power.’

  Jael sighed and turned to Raymon who, she was disappointed to discover, looked far less of a man than he needed to be. He was afraid of his wife. And looking into his rapidly blinking eyes, she could tell that he was afraid of her too.

  But his men looked hard, she thought. Conniving, but tough. Tougher than their king who almost shook alongside her. He appeared to have little muscle on him, and despite a pair of broad shoulders, he almost curled forward, not wanting to be seen. But given some time, perhaps he would have a chance one day to command his throne.

  If he lived that long.

  ‘Your wife saw her father with only one eye. Her brother too. That is love, I suppose. And love can be blind.’ Jael could hear Getta hissing beside her husband. ‘We saw differently. As did the people of Brekka. We saw what Lothar did when he stole the throne, and the night Axl took off Lothar’s head, he saw what he had done to our mother. He saw the lashings across her back as she was thrown on a bed, Lothar beating her after he’d forced her to marry him.’

  Raymon gulped, feeling Getta’s hand ease away from his thigh.

  Neither of them spoke.

  ‘If the same thing had happened to your mother, what would you have done?’ Jael wondered. She leaned forward, seeing the confusion in Getta’s eyes, and the interest in Ravenna’s. ‘The Brekkan throne was stolen. It was never meant to be Lothar’s. Nor Osbert’s. We reclaimed it. And that is all. Brekka is Axl’s kingdom now. The Slave Islands is my kingdom. All we want to do is protect our people. And to do that we need your help.’

  Edela was alone. Puzzled. Staring into the flames. T
hinking about her talk with Marcus. Worrying about that knife. Defeating Draguta had been a terrifying prospect when Jael had a sword capable of killing her, but now?

  Edela couldn’t let anyone go to Hest without knowing the truth about that knife. So, closing her eyes and gripping Jael’s arm-ring, Edela blew out all her tension and fear in a stuttering breath, shaking her shoulders loose as she sunk back into the soft fur of her chair, trying to remember the dreamer she was.

  Old, but not done yet.

  Raymon worried that Getta was about to lose control of her tongue. She had held onto it during the meal, and now, as Reinhard’s guests stood and started to mingle, a few cups of mead louder, he kept glancing at his wife who was eyeing Jael and Axl with a look he knew well. She was standing with Ravenna and Reinhard’s wife and daughters, but he could tell that she was not listening to anything the women were discussing. Her eyes were fixed on her cousins.

  It appeared that nothing Jael or Axl said had changed Getta’s mind.

  But had it changed his?

  As he studied Garren and the warriors who gathered around him and his father, Raymon wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure who he had to please. Who he wanted to please. If anyone. Perhaps all he needed to do was think about what was right for his people; how to keep them safe and protect his kingdom. Worrying about the ambitions of his men was surely secondary to that.

  ‘He doesn’t look like he has a clue,’ Aleksander murmured, turning to Gant.

  Gant smiled. ‘I think Axl knows how that feels.’

  Axl tried to look indignant, but Gant was right. ‘I think it’s easier to become a king when you’re older. When you’ve got arm-rings and a reputation. Not just the son of someone.’

  ‘Perhaps. But some people aren’t meant to rule, whatever their age. Raymon seems too concerned with what everyone thinks,’ Jael muttered. ‘You can’t be a good king if you’re afraid of upsetting people. You need to form your own opinions. Be decisive. He’s wobbling like a stool over there. Look at his eyes, darting about, from his men to his wife, and back again.’