Winter's Fury

by A. E. Rayne

  ‘That is no good for Eadmund or my father. Or Oss. None of it is,’ Eydis sighed, shaking her head.

  ‘No, I can see that.’

  ‘Ivaar will cause much destruction. He cannot come.’

  Jael frowned. ‘But can we do anything? Stop it from happening? Perhaps she is already pregnant?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Eydis said quietly. ‘Maybe it’s just a warning, to keep Eadmund away from Evaine? He needs to keep getting stronger, to show Father that he doesn’t need Ivaar. But I don’t know if we can change anything I’ve seen. It may be that it is already decided.’

  Jael stood up. ‘Hmmm, I have a feeling you’re right.’ She reached for Eydis’ hand. ‘But we can at least go and get those symbols tattooed on me so that I can stay safe from whatever is coming, whether it’s your brother or any threat that girl poses. That’s a start at least. We can figure out the rest as we go along.’

  Eydis tried to show Jael her brave smile, but her little face was clouded with fear and confusion.

  ‘I won’t let anything happen to you, Eydis,’ Jael insisted as she helped her up. ‘I promise you that.’

  Evaine sat by the fire, fingering her long, blonde hair. The wind was always terrorising the island, and her beautiful hair was constantly knotted and tangled by it. If only she were as sensible as her friends, her mother would always say, the ones who wore their hair in braids. Evaine screwed her face up, thinking of her mother, who seemed to be doing everything she could to keep her away from Eadmund. Although, as she looked across at Eadmund, he seemed just as keen to stay away from her himself lately. She had barely seen him, and when he had invited her company, like tonight, he was so distracted, he hardly noticed she was there.

  ‘What did you say?’ Eadmund wondered, slowly sipping on a cup of mead.

  Evaine had brought him a full jug of mead in the hopes of earning his affection, and while he had seemed pleased to see her, his reaction to the mead had been mixed. He was trying to stop drinking so much, it seemed, and that thought unsettled her. ‘I was just wondering how the mead was?’ she said, smiling sweetly. ‘It was from my father’s private store. He was saving it, but I don’t imagine he’ll miss one jug.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have done that, Evaine,’ Eadmund said harshly. ‘I’m not interested in taking another man’s drink, especially if he’s been saving it. I will stopper it up, and you can take it back when you leave.’ He put his cup down on the floor and got up to seal the jug.

  Evaine looked as though she had been slapped. Anxiety burst in the pit of her stomach as she stared after Eadmund. They had eaten, without any conversation, and just sat silently around the fire together, and now, he had scolded her. He hadn’t even looked like touching her or wanting her for days. She didn’t know what to do. He was slipping through her fingers faster than she had anticipated.

  Eadmund saw how upset Evaine was when he came back to sit beside her. He had invited her to his cottage, but he wasn’t being very good company at all. He was just so distracted with other thoughts, of ale, and swords, and fights, and things he didn’t want to name, even to himself. ‘I’m sorry,’ he smiled, lifting her chin with one finger. ‘I know you were only trying to make me happy. It’s just that I don’t need to be drinking mead, especially not your father’s. It’s not easy to say that, and it’s even harder to do.’

  ‘But why?’ she asked desperately, moving as close to Eadmund as possible, thrilled that he was talking at last. ‘What’s wrong with drinking mead all of a sudden?’

  ‘It’s not the mead,’ he explained patiently, putting one arm around her. ‘It’s drinking, all things...’ He paused to stare into the flames, realising that this was the first time he was putting words to his thoughts. ‘I seem to have decided that I would rather be able to stand, sleep in a bed, hold a sword, become a king, than have too much to drink.’

  ‘Oh.’

  It sat there between them for a while, a shift in their relationship; Eadmund had shifted it. He was changing himself, and therefore, what they had and how they had been with one another would inevitably change. Evaine felt a rush of fear flood her veins. Her body started shaking, and she stilled one hand by putting her other on top of it. She was losing him.

  Eadmund saw the tension in her face and sought to reassure her. ‘It doesn’t mean that I don’t want to see you,’ he tried to convince her. And himself. ‘But if I don’t make these changes, then my father will bring Ivaar back. And if Ivaar comes, then he will be king, and no one wants that, especially not me.’

  ‘Nor me,’ Evaine uttered quietly.

  ‘So, I have to show my father that I can make the changes he needs to see,’ Eadmund sighed. ‘It has taken me far too long to realise it, but now that I’ve started, I can’t go back. I don’t want to.’

  Eadmund could feel the vibrations in her body as it leaned against his.

  ‘You will have less time for me.’

  ‘Evaine!’ Eadmund laughed at her down-turned mouth. ‘You’ve probably spent most of our time together watching me sleep! Unconscious from too much ale, on the floor, pissing myself, not even aware of you. This, I hope, will be better for you as well.’

  ‘Of course,’ she smiled at him dully. ‘I’m sure it will be just as you say.’

  ‘It will,’ he promised as he brought his hands up to her face, leaning in to kiss her. She flinched underneath his touch. It was different, she insisted to herself, despite the fact that he was kissing her, eagerly it seemed; he was different.

  Something had to change before he slipped out of her grasp entirely.

  It hurt, much more than she had imagined it would. Jael didn’t let it show, though, as she clamped her jaw shut, looking away from the constant tapping. There was a lot of blood. She could smell it and was happy that Eydis couldn’t see it.

  Entorp was a fast worker, though, and despite his bone-jangling cough, he had managed to keep a steady hand. He had talked throughout the process, about the symbols and their history, and although Jael thought it was no doubt worth listening to, her mind kept wandering. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Eydis had revealed about Evaine. A pregnant enemy was going to be trickier to defeat, surely. Or remove. Would Eirik get rid of her if he found out, or keep her around, happy for a grandchild from any source?

  She groaned as Entorp tapped into a particularly sensitive spot.

  ‘Are you alright, Jael?’ Eydis wondered. She was sitting on the bed in one corner of the small house, playing with Entorp’s trio of snow-white cats. She seemed to have relaxed since they had spoken.

  ‘I am,’ Jael grimaced. ‘We’re nearly done, I think, and then I can walk you back home before your father wonders what has happened to you.’

  ‘Almost there,’ Entorp croaked, concentrating hard on her right arm. ‘I’ll apply bandages to stop the blood, but you’ll need to keep the tattoos moist until they’ve completely healed.’ He sat back and cocked his head to one side, admiring his work with a blue-eyed squint. ‘I have a salve for you to apply. It reeks, but don’t let that stop you from using it!’

  ‘And is that all I’ll need? Tattoos? Salve? And I’ll be protected from all the evil that’s coming for me?’ Jael smiled cynically, grinding her teeth together as he tapped a few finishing touches on her arm.

  ‘If only it were so,’ Entorp murmured, brushing his wild mop of orange hair out of his eyes. ‘No, there is plenty of evil these tattoos will offer you absolutely no protection from. These symbols are old magic from the Tuuran gods. They will keep you safe from all those who mean to do you harm through maleficent ways, such as alchemy or bewitchment, trickery or enchantment. No one will be able to command you. These symbols are the gateposts to your soul and your mind. They will protect them both.’ He coughed, a deep hacking cough, right next to Jael’s ear. ‘But as for your mouth, if they wish to poison you, or your flesh, if they try to cut you, only you can save yourself there. And from what I have heard, you have a good chance of doing just that.’

>   Jael’s face lightened; she was suddenly less bothered by the discomfort. Entorp was right. She knew how to protect her body, but now she had the confidence of knowing she could enter the fight with her mind and soul safe.

  She closed her eyes and thanked Edela. Her grandmother may just have saved her life.

  Aleksander squirmed on his stool. Amma was sitting right there, next to him, chatting to Edela, and he didn’t know what to do with himself. He had only sat down to be polite, and now he didn’t feel as though he could leave without appearing rude.

  Why was she here? She had brought a large basket of food for Edela, that part was obvious at least. It was gratefully received, no doubt stolen from Lothar’s stores, and Edela seemed very pleased about that. But why else? He knew the answer, of course he did, but he couldn’t admit it to himself; it was not something he even wanted to consider.

  ‘We will be an even closer family soon,’ Amma smiled at Edela. ‘With my mother dying and Getta being married off, our family has been shrinking, but soon I will have you and Gisila. You will be like a grandmother! I certainly don’t remember either of mine. They died before I was born.’

  Edela smiled, distracted by the tension in front of her. She was only slightly surprised, having seen some flashes of Aleksander’s future in her dreams recently. ‘Well, I shall be very lonely without Jael to annoy, so I shall expect many visits from you, then.’

  ‘Of course!’ Amma smiled. ‘And there is the wedding to look forward to. I’m just so glad that Gisila and Father are waiting until spring so that I can wear a beautiful dress, rather than a big, old cloak. I thought I would freeze to death at Jael’s wedding!’

  Aleksander felt the blow of that reminder, and his polite mask slipped.

  Amma carried on, blissfully unaware. ‘Perhaps Jael will come to the wedding?’ she suggested. ‘I’m sure Gisila would want her there.’

  Edela lifted her eyebrows, trying to stop Amma before she tangled herself up into a complete mess. ‘Oh, I don’t know if that will happen, my dear.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right, I suppose Jael could be with child then, so she might not want to make the journey.’

  Amma finally noticed Edela’s pleading eyes, and the morbid look on Aleksander’s face, and realised that she really ought to leave before she made things any worse. Flustered with embarrassment, she rushed to get up. ‘I should be going,’ she smiled tightly. ‘I didn’t want to take up your day. I just know it can be hard to come by fresh food at the moment, so hopefully, you will be able to enjoy what I found.’

  ‘We are most grateful for it,’ Edela said warmly as she stood. ‘I shall put Aleksander to work right away. He’s turning into an excellent cook, and I’m sure he’ll be glad to have something more than a limp old cabbage to serve up tonight.’

  ‘Yes, it was very kind of you,’ Aleksander admitted as he showed Amma to the door. ‘But make sure you don’t get yourself into trouble with your father on our behalf. We will be fine to make it through the winter on what I can scrape together.’ He was firm, hoping to dissuade her from coming back. She was well-meaning, but he didn’t want to be around her; she had a way of making him feel uncomfortable.

  ‘I understand,’ Amma said, ducking her head as she pinned her cloak to her shoulder. ‘I hope you enjoy the food. Goodbye.’

  ‘Goodbye,’ Aleksander said quickly, shutting the door before she’d barely left the doorstep.

  ‘Are you sure you didn’t just shut her finger in the door? You couldn’t have closed it any quicker if you’d tried!’ Edela laughed as she returned to her seat, grabbing a fur off the bed to wrap around her shoulders; the cold was in her bones today, and not even the fire would warm her through.

  Aleksander frowned as he started to unpack Amma’s basket. For all his discomfort and annoyance with her attention, he couldn’t deny that she had provided an impressive hoard of produce; much better than anything he had been able to find.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with Amma, you know,’ Edela called to him over the spitting fire. ‘She’s nothing like her father or her weasel-faced brother. She will make good company when she grows a little older, I think.’

  ‘She’s a girl, a little girl with the wrong ideas,’ Aleksander said coldly, turning towards Edela. ‘And she’s wrong about me. I have no plans to forget Jael and find someone new. It may take some time, but you should know, Edela, that I’m waiting for Jael to come back. And she will. I’ve seen it.’

  He stared at Edela with such fierce determination that she shuddered at both his expression and his words. Seen it? How? What had he done?

  20

  Fyn was thrilled to see Jael. It had been days. Days of nothing but howling whiteness. He was frozen, lonely, and sick of his own company.

  Jael dismounted with a strained gasp and half a smile.

  Fyn grabbed Tig’s reins and led him away to the little shed. ‘Are you alright?’ he wondered as he came back to her, eagerly handing over a practice sword.

  ‘Fine,’ she sighed, feeling the ache in her upper arms. The tattoos had been annoying her for days now, and although the pain had lessened, she was finding it hard to sleep without lying on them.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said irritably, pushing away the sword. ‘At least let me take off my things before we begin!’

  While Jael removed her cloak and sword-belt, Fyn trotted about the cleared practice area, slashing the air with his sword. She couldn’t help but smile; his confidence had grown so quickly. ‘I brought you some food,’ she remembered. ‘It’s in my saddlebag. Remind me to get it when we’re done.’

  ‘Really? That’s very kind of you,’ he smiled. ‘I was wondering what I was going to eat today!’

  He did look thinner, Jael thought as she picked up her sword and trudged towards the energetic figure. ‘So, you have no food?’

  ‘Not really,’ he admitted with a cheerful shrug. ‘I should ration more carefully. Respa can’t make it out here with supplies from my mother when the weather is bad.’

  ‘Yes, you should,’ Jael grumbled as she raised her sword to touch his. ‘And you should get on with those shields. You’ll need to learn how to hold onto one of those too!’

  Fyn laughed. ‘They’re a lot bigger than a sword to make. I am trying!’ He lashed out at her, surprising Jael, hitting her on the shoulder.

  She yelped and stepped back.

  ‘Had we begun?!’ she barked at his shocked face.

  ‘I, I, I thought we had!’ Fyn insisted, dropping his sword arm down and coming to see if she was alright.

  Jael pounced on him and knocked the sword out of his hand. It fell into the snow.

  ‘Oh,’ he sighed, bending down to pick it up.

  ‘Yes. Oh,’ Jael growled. ‘Never let go of your sword. Never loosen your grip. Never allow yourself to become so distracted that someone can surprise you. Hold onto your sword!’

  She laughed at the look of embarrassment on his face.

  ‘I was worried about you!’

  ‘I don’t need you to be worried about me, Fyn, I need you to hold onto your sword!’ Jael said, happy to see him firm up his grip.

  She went easy on him then, and they trained for a while in a slow, methodical way, working on the idea of predicting shots; getting behind them, blocking, protecting your body, staying alert.

  The ache in Jael’s arms, from the tattoos and the cold, eventually got too much for her. ‘Let’s have a break, Fyn,’ she sighed, and without waiting for an answer, she put down her sword and went to grab the bag of food she had brought with her.

  Fyn’s eyes widened at the shape of the well-stuffed bag as he followed Jael into the hut; he really was starving.

  They made themselves comfortable around the fire, which, Fyn noted, was starting to burn low; he knew how much Jael hated the cold. He would need to bring in some more wood soon.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ he wondered, tearing off a piece of the bread that Jael offered him. It had been war
m when she left the fort but had almost frozen on the ride.

  ‘Wrong?’ she mumbled, trying to swallow her lump of hard bread. ‘Well, if you’d paid attention, you would have realised I had wounds that were healing. You could have gone for those areas instead of pissing about trying to hit my stomach for the past hour!’

  ‘Your arms? What happened?’

  ‘I’ve been tattooed.’

  ‘Tattooed? Why?’

  ‘They’re Tuuran tattoos, symbols of protection,’ Jael said distractedly, looking around the room.

  ‘Protection from what?’ he wondered.

  ‘Your sister, mainly,’ Jael smiled. ‘Do you have anything to drink in here?’

  Fyn was too shocked to respond, so Jael got up, and, finding a jug beside Fyn’s bed, poured herself a cup of very watery ale.

  ‘Evaine? You think you need tattoos to protect yourself from her? Can they? Protect you, I mean?’

  Jael sat back down. ‘I hope so. But if not, I shall look very pretty,’ she grinned.

  Fyn was silent. He had so many questions but didn’t know where to begin. So Jael told him, all about her dream, about what Edela had seen on the beach, how she had come to warn her.

  ‘I don’t understand what it all means,’ was all Fyn could say when she’d finished. ‘The scorched face? I’ve never seen it, or anything like it. She is the worst person I’ve ever known, well not the worst, but I have never seen anything like that on her. Ever.’

  ‘We don’t know what it means, none of us do,’ Jael admitted, taking a sip of ale. ‘But hopefully I can keep myself safer, and Eydis too. And perhaps it’s time you got away from here? Made a new life in the Fire Lands, or on one of the other islands?’

  Fyn sighed. ‘I can’t do that, Jael. I can’t leave my mother.’

  ‘But you don’t even see her,’ Jael insisted. ‘You are out here, starving, all alone, with no family, no one to talk to, not even a horse for company!’

  ‘I know...’