The Raven's Warning

by A. E. Rayne

  Eadmund didn’t speak. He felt as though he was still at the stones, trapped in the smoke, seeing Andala. Watching Jael kill Rollo.

  He’d seen Thorgils too, trying to help Jael.

  He felt displaced, drifting, his thoughts swirling around him like a blizzard, and in the centre of it all stood Draguta, her pale face glistening, her blue eyes as frozen as Oss’ harbour in winter.

  Morac was talking to him, and Eadmund didn’t want to answer, so he nodded, realising that he was at his door, and Morac had a hand in the air, walking away with a promise to return tomorrow.

  Pushing open the door, he walked inside the house, his mind drifting back to Jael. He didn’t want to sleep next to Evaine; didn’t want her touching him.

  It was so still. So quiet.

  So dark, Eadmund realised as he held out his hands, feeling his way to the bedchamber, knowing there were stools and small tables somewhere in the main room that he didn’t want to trip over.

  A lamp was burning next to the bed, and his eyes adjusted to the light, his head still swimming as he stood there, watching Evaine sleep. Naked. Her long, blonde hair wrapped around her.

  And Eadmund’s body pulsed with anger, knowing that she had trapped him.

  Put a spell on him.

  He wanted to kill her.

  Jael touched the blanket in Sigmund’s basket and saw a flash. She heard Runa’s cry, and she turned to Fyn who stood by his mother’s bed, staring at her still body, willing her to be alive again.

  But she wasn’t.

  ‘Runa tried to save Sigmund,’ Jael said softly. ‘That’s how she died. She wouldn’t let them take him. She held him in her arms, and she stared those men down.’ Jael could see it so clearly; she could feel Runa’s terror. ‘She was so brave.’ Her voice broke, seeing the moment Runa was stabbed.

  Fyn turned to Jael, rubbing his eyes. ‘Who were they? Who did this?’

  ‘I don’t know. But Draguta sent them. They tried to take the Book of Aurea for her. They took Amma too.’

  ‘Amma?’ Eydis panicked. ‘Where? Where have they taken her?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Jael said carefully. ‘Hest?’ She looked at Thorgils, whose eyes kept returning to the open door. ‘Why don’t you go and check on Isaura?’ she suggested.

  Thorgils nodded, feeling guilty for wanting to leave. He would return, but he needed to know that Isaura and the children were safe.

  ‘I’ll go with you,’ Bram mumbled. ‘I need to take a breath of air. Fyn?’

  Fyn shook his head, his eyes on Runa.

  ‘I’ll stay with him,’ Eydis promised. ‘I won’t leave.’

  Jael’s heart broke for Fyn, sitting with his dead mother, and squeezing his hand, she turned to follow Thorgils and Bram out of the chamber, needing to find out how her own mother was.

  Entorp arrived with his salves, earning himself a grateful smile from Derwa who quickly put him to work. She wiped her hands on her apron and shuffled over to Edela, Biddy, Jael and Gant.

  Axl and Aleksander came through the door as she started to speak.

  ‘Gisila is lucky. The wound in her stomach is deep, but it has missed anything important. So now we will wait. Let Entorp’s salves work their magic.’ No one looked encouraged by that, though. ‘Gisila has youth on her side,’ Derwa tried. ‘She will fight. It’s in her blood after all.’ And she smiled at Edela who looked on the brink of tears again.

  Axl hurried past them all to the bed. ‘Mother!’ he cried, utterly bereft, on his knees, holding her hand.

  Jael turned to Gant who appeared in shock. His eyes wouldn’t focus on her at all, so she grabbed his arm. ‘We need to secure the fort.’

  He nodded, swallowing. ‘I’ll see to it. You and Axl take as long as you need here.’ And with one last look at Gisila, lying in the bed they had just been in together, he dropped his head and disappeared through the door.

  ‘Jael,’ Biddy said quietly, pulling her away. ‘I need to go back to the cottage. I have to see the puppies.’

  Jael froze. ‘Why? What happened?’

  ‘That big man,’ Biddy said. She’d felt frantic ever since she had arrived in the hall, desperate to go back and see what had happened to poor Ido. ‘He kicked Ido. I don’t know if he’s alright. I didn’t go back. I... I need to go.’

  Jael shook her head, feeling her heart skipping in fear. ‘I’ll go. Stay with everyone. Check on Eydis and Fyn. Organise the hall. The bodies...’ She looked at Aleksander. ‘We need to treat the injured.’ Her own arm was still running with blood, but the shock of everything was keeping the pain at bay. ‘Astrid and Ayla will help. Perhaps you could organise them?’

  Biddy nodded as Jael glanced at her mother before hurrying out of the chamber.

  Meena crawled into bed, lying on the very edge of the mattress, not wanting to wake Jaeger by reaching for a fur.

  She tried not to think, which was hard as the smoke had a way of teasing out even her most deeply hidden thoughts. All those things she was trying so hard not to think about kept floating into her mind.

  Draguta would come for her, she knew.

  If Dragmall had saved Morana, Draguta would come for her.

  Meena closed her eyes, listening to Jaeger breathing beside her, wishing she still had the knife. But her scabbard was empty, and there was nothing to save her now; not even Jaeger, who was bound to Draguta.

  He would stand aside, she knew. Let Draguta claim her revenge.

  Meena’s mind wandered to Berard, and she realised that she would never see him again. She couldn’t help but wonder how different everything might have been if she had left with him and his family that night.

  For some reason, she’d believed that staying behind was important.

  That she would be able to help.

  Closing her eyes, Meena lifted her hands to her head, curling herself into a ball.

  Whatever Draguta was about to do to her, Meena hoped that she would make it quick.

  Karsten was banging on the door, impatient to get into the cottage, but it was taking Berard and Ulf some time to pull all the furniture away. Bayla had two sobbing grandchildren on her knees, unable to help.

  Eventually, Ulf pushed away the last bed and opened the door.

  Karsten rushed in, dripping with sweat and blood, scanning the terrified faces of his family as they blinked at him. ‘Everyone alright?’ he panted as Nicolene burst into tears and hurried towards him.

  Berard nodded as Karsten turned to his wife and pulled her into his arms, squeezing her tightly as his sons chased after their mother, wrapping themselves around their father’s legs.

  ‘You’re alright,’ Nicolene breathed into his neck. ‘You’re alright!’

  Bayla’s shoulders dropped in relief as she wrapped her arms around Halla and Valder, pulling them close. ‘It will take a lot more than a curse and an evil book to stop the Dragos family, won’t it, now?’ she said, lifting her head, tears in her eyes as she looked around their revolting little cottage, not caring how dark and miserable it was for just a moment.

  Jael tried to push everyone out of her mind as she ran to Edela’s cottage: Runa and Fyn, her mother and Amma. Sigmund.

  She tried not to think about any of them.

  The moon’s light was generous as she approached Edela’s path, and Jael could clearly see the mountainous corpse of the man who had tried and failed to steal the book lying amongst the dead barsk. Turning away from him, and not caring about them, she ran up the path, pausing at the broken door.

  Taking a deep breath, Jael stepped inside.

  Vella rushed towards her, whining, paws up on Jael’s leg.

  There was no Ido.

  ‘Ido!’ The fire was almost out, and it was dark in the cottage. Jael couldn’t see him anywhere. ‘Ido!’

  And then she heard a faint whimper as Vella raced back to her brother, licking his face.

  Jael made her way to the corner of the cottage, past Edela’s bed, dropping to her knees where her little, black
dog lay on his side. ‘Ido,’ she breathed, running a hand down his back. ‘It’s alright.’ And realising that he couldn’t stand on his own, she scooped him up, feeling him tremble against her as he tried to lick her face. She sat back against the bed, holding him against her throbbing chest, trying to catch her breath. ‘It’s alright now. You’re safe. You’re safe with me.’

  49

  Dawn came like a bandage torn off a wound, and they could all see the devastation the barsk had wrought.

  ‘We have to finish the wall,’ Karsten sighed, turning to Aleksander who was staring at it with him. ‘We can’t leave for Hest if it’s not finished. Who knows what else will get in? I’m not leaving my family until it’s finished.’

  Aleksander nodded, wanting to get back to the hall to see how Gisila was, but the scene around them was grisly. He couldn’t leave. Not yet. The barsk had ripped their men to pieces, and the square was filled with the plaintive sounds of those in pain; dying sounds too. He could hear people calling out for loved ones, hysterical, needing help as Astrid, Derwa, and Biddy hurried around, bending over, seeing who could be carried into the hall; who would not make it inside. Entorp was there too with Marcus, tending to the injured, comforting the bereaved.

  The fort smelled of death, and smoke as the corpses of the barsk were loaded onto carts and taken out into the valley where they would be piled into the enormous pit Rork and his Alekkans had already started digging.

  ‘Can you find Ulf?’ Aleksander asked, noticing Bram sitting at a table outside the hall with Ayla. ‘Get him to supervise the stonemasons. We need more fortifications around the ditch too, though I’m not sure anything could have stopped those dogs. I’ve never seen anything jump like that.’

  Karsten shook his head, certain he was right.

  Aleksander clapped him on the shoulder and headed for the hall, realising that he needed to see how Axl was. Between worrying about Gisila and being terrified for Amma, Axl was all over the place. But at least, for the moment, he had stopped talking about taking a ship to Hest.

  Nodding to Ayla and Bram, Aleksander walked up the steps, into the hall.

  Bram hadn’t said anything for some time, and Ayla was beginning to wonder if she should go.

  ‘I thought I had time,’ Bram mumbled suddenly, dropping his head into his hands. ‘I thought there’d be time.’ And he lifted his eyes and stared at Ayla. ‘I... I wanted to.’ He stopped, his shoulders sagging. ‘I wanted to. I just...’ And the tears rolled down his cheeks.

  Ayla put her arm around Bram’s shoulder and brought him towards her, feeling his body shudder against hers. ‘I’m sorry, Bram,’ she whispered. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Edela felt odd. Lost.

  Gisila had not woken up. She lay perfectly still. Breathing.

  That was something.

  Everyone was busy. She could hear the noises from the hall, and though Edela knew that she should be out there, trying to help, she was struggling to tear herself away from her daughter.

  She didn’t know what was going to happen.

  Edela blinked.

  She didn’t know what was going to happen.

  Everyone she loved was in danger, and she didn’t know how to help them. She couldn’t keep them safe. Couldn’t warn them. Couldn’t help them.

  What use was she?

  Her granddaughter lost her baby and nearly her life. And now her daughter lay before her. Unconscious. Maybe dying.

  Jael reached out and placed her hands on Edela’s shoulders. ‘You need to come with me.’

  Edela spun around. ‘What do you mean?’ She blinked, confused as Jael pulled her to her feet.

  ‘I can hear you, Grandmother,’ Jael said. ‘I can hear your thoughts, and you need to come outside. They need your help. Ayla and Astrid. Derwa and Biddy. You can’t sit in here blaming yourself.’ Her eyes flickered to Gisila, and she swallowed. ‘You saved as many people as you could. Don’t forget that. You can’t falter now. Can’t give up when we’re nowhere near ending this. I need you.’ She gripped Edela’s hands. ‘I’m going to Hest, and I need you.’

  Edela stared into Jael’s eyes, feeling tears fill her own. ‘I...’ She shook her head. ‘I didn’t see what would happen to your baby. I didn’t see what would happen to Gisila or poor Runa. How can I help you anymore?’

  Jael smiled, feeling her own tears coming. ‘You’re a dreamer. You told me that over and over again. You’re a dreamer, you said. And it took me a long time to believe it. But I do. Because of you, so you can’t give up now. The gods are with us. The Iskavallans are with us. The Islanders. The Alekkans. All of us. We won’t let this stand. What she’s done. What they want to do. Draguta. Briggit. We won’t let this stand. We will fight. All of us. Dreamers and warriors. Me and you.’

  Edela felt the strength in Jael’s hands as they squeezed hers and she found herself nodding, trying to block out the taunting voices in her head that told her she wasn’t even a dreamer anymore. ‘We will fight,’ she whispered, staring into Jael’s eyes. ‘Me and you.’

  Eadmund stood with his back to Morac and Evaine, pouring wine into ornate silver goblets. It annoyed him that Evaine had bought the ridiculous goblets to replace the cups which were perfectly useable.

  He didn’t like the wine either. It had been an odd day of barely being awake, and he felt like ale, not wine.

  Wine reminded him of his father.

  They were talking behind him, Eadmund knew, but he wasn’t listening. He was thinking of Jael. Of his son. Of Draguta.

  Of his mother and Melaena.

  ‘Isn’t that right, Eadmund?’ Morac wondered.

  Eadmund turned around. ‘What?’

  Evaine was surprised by the coldness in his eyes. It was as though he was looking at strangers.

  She shivered.

  Morac didn’t notice; he was too busy smiling at Elfwyn as she placed a bowl of cherries on the table. ‘Evaine was just telling me that you were leaving tomorrow. For Helsabor?’

  Eadmund nodded, coming back to the table, handing Evaine and Morac their goblets of wine.

  ‘And by the time you return, your son will be here,’ Morac said, looking at his daughter, who did not register much interest in that news.

  Eadmund carried his own goblet to the table and sat down opposite Morac. He took a sip of wine, then lifted the goblet in the air. ‘To defeating our enemies,’ he said, tasting the sour tang of the wine, trying not to grimace.

  Morac smiled and touched his goblet to Eadmund’s. ‘To defeating our enemies.’ And he sat back, relaxed, drinking his wine.

  Eadmund watched him, remembering his dreams.

  He could almost feel his mother’s hand on his shoulder, imagining that she was there, watching too.

  ‘Though not everyone knows who their enemies are, do they, Morac?’ Eadmund murmured. ‘Sometimes we mistake them for friends.’ His lips barely moved. His eyes remained fixed on Morac. ‘Sometimes our greatest enemies are hiding right in front of us.’

  Morac shuddered. It felt as though Eadmund was peering inside his soul.

  Then he shuddered again, feeling hot all over. Swallowing, he felt an urgent need to go outside. To jump into the sea.

  Water! He needed water!

  Then a pain in his chest and he dropped the goblet onto the table, wine spilling everywhere.

  ‘Father!’ Evaine was on her feet, rushing to him as Morac clutched his chest. ‘Eadmund! Help him!’

  But Eadmund didn’t move.

  Eadmund didn’t blink.

  He wanted to watch every moment of it.

  Morac was gagging now, trying to breathe, unable to take any air into his lungs, his eyes bulging in terror. He tried to stand, but his legs had no strength in them, and he collapsed to the floor, rasping, the pain in his chest overwhelming him. He reached a hand towards Evaine, panicking as everything went dark. ‘Help...’ he gasped.

  ‘Eadmund!’ Evaine screamed as Morac’s head fell back on the floor, his eyes fixed open, wine dri
pping from the table onto his legs.

  Eadmund stood and walked over to Morac, making sure that he was dead.

  And then he walked towards the door.

  Evaine was sobbing, hysterical, but she struggled to her feet, stumbling after him, grabbing his sleeve. ‘Where are you going? Eadmund? Where are you going?’

  ‘I’m leaving, Evaine, before I kill you too. For what you did to me. To Edela. Taking me away from Jael. Destroying my life.’ He shook her away, grasping the door handle. ‘Our son is the only reason you’re not on the floor with your father.’

  And pulling open the door, he strode out of the house.

  Evaine screamed, running out onto the porch after him. ‘Eadmund! No! No! Come back! Eadmund! Please!’

  ‘How’s Ido?’ Aleksander asked as Jael joined him at the table. It had been a long day, and those that could had found a bench in the hall, resting their aching bodies, taking a moment to drink and eat; to feel something that wasn’t fear and grief.

  Jael poured him a cup of ale, and one for herself, wanting to take the taste of blood out of her mouth. ‘His leg is broken. A few ribs too. And he’s lost a tooth, but other than that he seems alright. Biddy is fussing over him. She had Derwa set his leg.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘I’m ready for things to be different,’ Jael said, staring at him over the table. Every part of her vibrated with anger and pain, and exhaustion most of all. ‘I’m ready for Draguta to die.’

  Thorgils joined them, grabbing the jug of ale, his shoulder leaking blood all over his tunic again. ‘So, when do we leave?’ Isaura was with Fyn and Eydis, helping prepare Runa for her pyre. He’d come into the hall looking for Bram, but he hadn’t seen him anywhere.

  Ivaar and Karsten sat down beside him.

  Axl came limping over with Rork, bringing another jug of ale. More cups.