by A. E. Rayne
Egil nodded and edged towards the door. ‘Yes, of course, my lord,’ he murmured, ducking his head, before turning and scurrying away.
Jaeger watched his servant flee like a frightened beetle and turned his attention back to the old book that lay open on the table, as it had all night, taunting him. The book of riddles. The book of indecipherable scrawls.
The Book of Darkness.
But what use was it to him if he couldn’t read any of it?
Jaeger screwed up his heavy eyes and slammed it shut. There had to be a way to understand it. Surely there was someone powerful enough to unlock its secrets?
He groaned at the thought of having to face his father and reached for his goblet. There was one person he could ask for help, of course, but he wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. Not until he had exhausted all possibilities would he tell Varna what he had found.
‘Axl!’
Axl Furyck laughed and slipped away from her.
‘Axl!’ Amma squealed again. ‘We have to go! My father will wonder what has happened to me.’ She reached for her cloak, which he had stolen away as they dressed, not wanting to leave their secret place just yet.
‘Why should he be thinking about you?’ Axl wondered, admitting defeat and handing back the light-blue cloak, which his cousin quickly wrapped around herself. ‘All he’s thinking about is Hest and Haaron Dragos. I’m not sure he knows anything else exists.’
Amma’s large brown eyes flooded with fear. She shuddered from more than the chill of the early morning air. ‘Oh, don’t talk about it. Please! I’m not sure I can take thinking about it again. Especially after what Edela warned will happen.’
Axl frowned, his messy brown hair falling into his eyes, as it usually did. He brushed it away and turned his determined young face towards Amma. ‘Gant thinks Edela is right. I’m sure that most people do. But it’s not going to stop Lothar. He’s desperate to claim Hest, no matter how many of us he kills trying to achieve it.’
They were in a clearing, a private little spot that Axl had found nestled in the forest; a place where they could be alone, together. It had been a few months now since the wedding of his mother to Amma’s father, and their relationship had become far more complicated than either had anticipated. Amma was the daughter of the king and Lothar had plans to marry her to someone who wasn’t her cousin.
‘You must be careful,’ Amma insisted as she finished pinning her cloak and stepped towards Axl, reaching up to tidy his floppy hair. ‘You must stay by Gant and Aleksander. Keep out of danger.’
‘Amma!’ Axl laughed, pinning his own cloak onto his right shoulder. ‘It’s a war we’re going to be waging. Battles, swords, death. I can hardly hide behind Gant, hoping not to die. I wouldn’t want to!’
Amma’s head dropped. ‘But if something happens to you...’ she whispered.
Axl lifted her chin with his finger, staring into her worried eyes. ‘Nothing will happen to me. Edela has quite happily left to be with Jael. She didn’t hug me goodbye as though we would never see each other again,’ he said confidently. ‘She didn’t look troubled about me at all, so I doubt I am in any real danger. Unless Osbert is going to try and do away with me in the middle of things!’
Axl laughed, but Amma looked concerned as they walked towards their horses, who were nibbling on wet grass and spring flowers amongst the maze of trees. ‘Well, the way he has been looking at you these past few months, I would not be surprised if he tried to. He believes my father favours you now that he has married Gisila.’
‘I don’t think your father is as lovesick for my mother as that!’ Axl insisted. He pulled Amma’s hood over her long, brown hair and kissed her quickly, before boosting her up onto her horse. ‘He won’t forget that I’m Ranuf’s son and that I am the one who is supposed to be king here.’
‘No, of course not,’ Amma murmured as she settled her cloak over her frozen legs and grabbed the reins. ‘But Osbert is desperate to get rid of you, that I do know. Just as he is me. We will both have to watch him carefully.’
Axl hoisted himself into his saddle and grinned at her. ‘Oh, that is not something you need worry about, I promise. I’m working on my own plans for Osbert.’
Jaeger Dragos was a broad-chested, solidly built mountain of a man. Strong, young, and hungry for power, he was desperate to break free from the suffocating yoke of his father. But he was the youngest of Haaron’s four living sons, and even if he were to finally find a way to destroy his father, his two eldest brothers, Haegen and Karsten, were waiting to wear the crown. He was going to have to do something extraordinary to claim the prize of Hest for himself; the prize, it seemed, that everyone wanted.
King Haaron’s right eye twitched as his youngest and most belligerent son sauntered into the hall. There had always been something about the boy that rankled, that had crawled under his skin since his birth, 26 years ago. Perhaps it was that Jaeger was his wife’s favourite and she had fawned over him since he was a mewling pup. Perhaps too, he could sense the desperation rising from his son when he ran his eyes over the throne.
Haaron Dragos was a sharp-eyed, razor-tongued man, always on edge, despite the fact that Hest was easily the wealthiest kingdom in Osterland. Its moderate climate and prime position meant that merchants from the even wealthier Fire Lands would travel across the well-tempered Adrano Sea all year round to trade spices, horn, linens, and slaves in Hest’s extensive marketplace.
But Haaron had reigned unsated. Power and wealth had been teasing mistresses, and despite his ever advancing years, which had dulled his enthusiasm for war lately, he was hungry for more. Though, he mused, raising one hand to his heavily pock-marked face, perhaps now there was more wisdom to be found in alliances?
‘At last!’ he growled from his throne at the head of the hall. Haaron’s great throne had been carved out of stone during the reign of Valder Dragos, first of his line. A furious dragon rose up from behind him, its wings and tail wrapping around the chair; its thick legs curling into armrests, its feet pressing onto skulls; only a handful of skulls from the many thousands of slaves who had died building Hest’s castle. ‘It is very kind of you to join us, Jaeger.’
‘Father,’ Jaeger yawned, ignoring the bite in Haaron’s words. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept. His eyes felt filled with sand, and he was in no mood for the picking tongue of the man who had hounded, bullied, and humiliated him since he could remember. Proud and supportive of his eldest sons, Haaron had never had any time for his youngest two. No wonder they spent all their time plotting against him.
Berard stifled his own yawn as Jaeger approached the table. He felt just as tired as his brother looked. He had to find a way to convince him to sleep. Neither of them would be able to discover the book’s secrets if their minds were addled. ‘Jaeger,’ he smiled at his miserable-looking brother. ‘Busy sleeping, were we?’
Jaeger ignored him, despite the fact that Berard was his favourite brother, and nodded briefly at Haegen and Karsten.
‘Now, we must discuss the annoying problem of Lothar Furyck and his equally annoying little friend, Eirik Skalleson,’ Haaron muttered, stalking towards the long table where his sons waited, mulling over the intricate map carved over its entire surface.
‘If we don’t destroy Lothar this time, he will just keep trying,’ Karsten, his second son, grumbled. ‘He’s not like Ranuf at all. He wants to conquer us!’ He shook his head, incredulous that anyone should think such a thing possible. ‘He must actually believe he can to try again so quickly.’
‘Well, he may think that,’ Haaron said evenly. ‘But what Lothar Furyck thinks, and what we will give him in return, are two quite different things, as he will soon find out.’ He smiled so confidently that the folds of skin, sagging around his cheeks, almost consumed his cold, blue eyes.
‘Aren’t you worried, Father?’ Osbert asked, looking worried.
‘About Edela?’ Lothar snorted, and his thick jowls jiggled. ‘You think she is that valuable to me?
’
Osbert frowned. He had no love for Edela Saeveld, nor any of her revolting family, but she had been a king’s dreamer since her daughter, Gisila, had married Ranuf Furyck, over 30 years ago. And whether you believed in Tuuran dreamers or not, Osbert had no recollection of Edela’s visions ever being wrong. How could his father turn away from her so blindly, especially now when he was risking so much?
Osbert scuffed his boots as he walked beside his father down to the piers, wondering how to get through to him. ‘I think dreamers are valuable, especially in times of war.’
Again Lothar snorted. ‘And what did she have to tell me apart from the warning that we would fail? And fail miserably,’ he laughed. ‘Those were her words... fail miserably!’ He turned to his son, and his dark eyes were hard. ‘But she is wrong, for I do not plan to fail at all. This time I will conquer Hest. I will take what Haaron has, and make it mine. There is no question of that happening. With the islands behind us, we will have the ships and the men to swallow them whole.’
‘And what of Eirik if we conquer Hest? What will he want in return?’
‘Eirik?’ Lothar mused as he skirted a pile of slush melting across the wooden pier, dripping through to the green water below. ‘If Eirik holds up his end of our alliance, then he shall be rewarded, of course. There is more gold in Hest than either of us could hope to spend in our lifetimes, I’m sure.’
‘But he expects more than gold, surely? He will want land, power, position. It wasn’t so long ago that he was trying to claim our land to expand his kingdom.’
Lothar raised an unruly eyebrow as he stopped next to one of the newly launched ships he had come to inspect. It was tied to the pier, rolling lightly in the gentle swell of Andala’s protected harbour. ‘What Eirik wants will be a matter of discussion once we have conquered Haaron and his sons. And that is not something you need concern yourself with now. Not when your attention should be on preparing our men for what lies ahead.’
Osbert blinked. His father’s obsession had clouded his judgement so much now that he appeared to see no reason at all. ‘Edela said that they know we’re coming.’
‘And?’
‘You have no guarantee that Eirik will take Skorro.’
Lothar readjusted his thick fur cloak over his generous belly. He had been in a joyous mood after leaving his very naked wife and was growing increasingly irritated by his only son’s attempt to turn him foul. ‘Eirik will do as he’s promised, have no fear of that. Have no fear of anything, my son, except my wrath if you fail to lead our army to a successful conquest. For, despite what Edela sees, I see only victory, and if you do not deliver that, you and I shall have to discuss your increasingly fragile position as my heir!’
Osbert’s small mouth puckered as Lothar stormed off ahead of him. His father was turning against him. And it was all her doing. Gisila. His stepmother. Axl’s mother. The woman who had carefully wound Lothar around her little finger.
‘You must keep him safe.’
‘I will try, Gisila, of course,’ Gant said awkwardly, shuffling his feet, glancing around at the men and women elbowing each other to the front of the busy market stalls; uncomfortable that she had cornered him in such a public place. ‘But I cannot promise he will return unharmed.’
‘But you kept Ranuf safe,’ Gisila implored, her dark-brown eyes wide with worry. ‘All those years you fought by his side. It was your job to keep him alive, and you did.’
Gant let himself smile then. ‘Well, I think that was mainly down to Ranuf. He was rather good with a sword if you remember.’
Gisila shook her head and stared across the crowded marketplace. Spring had brought an influx of ships from Alekka, loaded high with weapons and furs, their prosperous trader’s pockets filling quickly with coins to spend, much to her husband’s delight. She cringed, still horrified that she had somehow ended up married to her loathsome brother-in-law. ‘And Axl’s not, is he?’
Lothar didn’t enjoy anyone talking to his new wife, so Gant didn’t want to stay long, but Gisila was worried about Axl going off to his first battle. He knew that she needed his reassurance, and he wanted to give it to her, but the words felt rather feeble on his tongue. ‘Axl is... getting better,’ he tried, the fine lines around his grey eyes crinkling as he smiled. ‘He is working hard, focusing, but... he is not Jael.’
Gisila sighed heavily and turned away from the crowd, towards the door of the small hut they were standing in front of. ‘No, I realise that. And of course, Ranuf realised it too. But I don’t care. Do whatever you have to. Train him all day long until you leave. Anything. Just keep him away from Osbert. Keep him safe and bring him home. To me. Please.’
‘I will. Try. I will try, Gisila.’ It was all he could offer her.
Gisila sighed, the tension in her shoulders biting at her as it did every day now. She was desperate. It had been nearly three years since she had lost Ranuf and with it every piece of security she had held dear. Her daughter had been married off, she had been forced into Lothar’s bed, and now he was about to start a war with Hest again. What they once had and who she had once been felt so far away now, she wondered if she could ever find her way back.
Not if Lothar’s arrogant ambition destroyed them all.
‘Jaeger and Berard will go to Skorro,’ Haaron announced, picking up two wooden figures – one red and one yellow – and placing them on the small island, enjoying Jaeger’s irritated scowl at that nothing sort of fate. ‘That is where Eirik will bring his ships, thinking we will be too occupied by Lothar’s approach through Valder’s Pass to notice him coming.’ He picked up two more wooden figures, one green, one blue. ‘Haegen, you and Karsten will lead your men through the pass to block the Brekkan’s assault.’
Haegen looked confused. ‘And where will you be, Father?’
Haaron glanced up at him, a sharp glint in his eye. He picked up the remaining black figure and placed it on an outlying neck of land. ‘I will be here. In the Tower. Watching all of you destroy our enemies.’
All four of his sons shared a look of shock. Their father had been battle hungry and bloodthirsty their whole lives. He had led them into every fight, screaming from the front. And they had attacked their enemies from behind him.
‘But why, Father?’ Karsten wondered, shaking the long, blonde braid that ran down his back. ‘Don’t you wish to make Lothar Furyck bleed on your sword?’
‘Me?’ Haaron laughed. ‘Care about that fat slug? No, Lothar is just a poor imitation of his brother. Ranuf was a true Brekkan king. There is no pleasure to be found in his usurper’s death. Besides, what point is there in having four able sons if I am to do all the work myself? And at my age, too...’ He turned and ran an eye over his offspring.
Haegen, being the eldest, was the most sensible; strong, predictable, reliable. Karsten had a temper and could be foolish in the grip of it; unpredictable. Berard was a disappointment. His other sons were tall, muscular warriors, skilled in swordcraft, blooded in battle. Handsome too. But Berard... his skill was with words, when he wasn’t stumbling over them. And as for Jaeger... he was like a roaring bear. Pure aggression. Fury. Strength. But he didn’t know his place. And his place was as the fourth son of the King of Hest. And there he would remain until his end of days, unless one of his brothers put him down first.
Haaron was determined that Hest would never be his.
‘But Father,’ Karsten said carefully. ‘Perhaps it is better that I go to Skorro? Jaeger and Berard will hardly make much of a team. And my expertise in sea warfare is surely needed there?’
‘Why? Because you wish to fight Jael Furyck? Take revenge upon her for the eye she took from you?’
Karsten grimaced, ignoring the instinct to reach up and touch his black leather eye patch which he had worn since his last battle with Brekka. That bitch had disfigured him with her knife. He had barely lived. Of course, he wanted his revenge. And not just an eye either. There was more of her he’d like to take before he killed her. ‘My experien
ce -’
‘Your experience?’ Haaron laughed. ‘Ha! You may be able to fool your wife, or your brothers, with that honeyed tongue of yours, but I hear your words as they truly are. And no, you’ll follow my plan. Your revenge is of no concern to me. Perhaps if your brothers fail miserably without my leadership, perhaps you will find Jael Furyck at your door with her knife out, ready to claim your other eye. Although, this time I’m sure she will be smart enough to take out your heart instead!’
Karsten looked away from his father’s cruel eyes.
‘There will be no plan here, other than mine!’ Haaron barked. ‘Varna has seen what will be. And you will follow my orders if you wish to keep your places here, around my table.’ He glared at each face in turn. Three of his sons looked down towards the map.
One stared straight into his eyes, unblinking.
Haaron glared at Jaeger, wishing he could run his sword through him. He was not old enough to be put aside, overthrown by this arrogant child. His time was not over. Varna had seen how things would go on Skorro.
His sons did not need to know that part.
‘Axl!’ Gant walked over to where Axl had stopped, jiggling anxiously on the spot. ‘Your mother’s been searching for you all morning.’
Axl frowned, slightly pink around the cheeks. His sneaking around with Amma had him permanently on edge. ‘What for?’
‘You’d have to ask her,’ Gant muttered. ‘I suspect she’s just worried about you. There’s not much time until we leave now.’
‘There are too many worrying women around here,’ Axl grumbled as he readjusted his sword and stared at Gant. ‘Makes me miss Jael. I imagine she can’t wait for things to start.’
Gant smiled wistfully; he missed her too. ‘Mmmm, your sister will be thinking about nothing else, I’m sure. Although, with Aleksander and Edela there, perhaps there will be other things on her mind now?’
Axl’s eyes darted about. They were standing far back from the main street, just before the entrance to the piers and he could see Lothar and Osbert deep in conversation with two of Andala’s helmsmen as they inspected the ships. ‘If I die in this battle, what will become of Brekka? With Jael on Oss, and me gone, what hope would there be with Lothar and Osbert here?’