Winter's Fury

by A. E. Rayne

  ‘Aleksander, wait,’ Edela called, reaching out to stop him. ‘We mustn’t forget why we are here, what we are hoping to find out. I know you’re mad at me, but it’s important that we stay true to our purpose. We cannot reveal any of our suspicions, not unless we’re with someone I trust. You cannot talk about my dreams, especially not the book, and definitely not the Widow.’

  Aleksander held the reins tightly in one hand and turned to look at her, curiously. ‘Why, definitely not the Widow?’

  Edela looked out towards the imposing stone-walled town, watching smoke plumes rise into the darkening sky, and sighed. ‘She was banished from here a long, long time ago. As I said, her soul is black. We don’t need anyone discovering that you sought her out, that she helped you. It would not reflect well on us at all. And I’m sure there are more than a few elders who would like to know the whereabouts of the Widow.’

  Aleksander mulled that over as their horses snorted impatiently beneath them; they could smell civilisation and were eager to get to it. ‘What did she do to get banished?’

  ‘I’m not actually sure,’ Edela admitted, shaking her head. ‘My grandmother used to tell me tales of her, tales to frighten me into using my gifts for only good things. Whatever she was banished for has always been a well-guarded secret, though. Only the elders would know something like that.’

  ‘Well, don’t worry, I want to find out what is going on as much as you do,’ he insisted impatiently. ‘No matter what you see in my future, what anyone sees, I will always try to help Jael and keep her safe. Whatever is out there for us, nothing will stop me trying to help her.’ He bent his head, lest she see how hard those words were for him to say. Tapping his boots lightly into his very agreeable horse, he moved off ahead of her again, riding down towards the very place that had ripped his life apart, and put it all back together again in the darkness of a blood-splattered night.

  ‘There is no chance, Daughter!’ Lothar bellowed, his eyes mocking her. ‘Not while I’m alive. No chance that such a marriage will ever take place, I promise you that! Why would you think I would ever agree to such a thing?’

  Amma shook from embarrassment, from humiliation, and from something else, anger. She stood in front of her father in the King’s Hall, but they were not alone. Many others were milling around; some of his men were gaping at her in amusement, a handful of servants were preparing tables for the evening, and Osbert sat to one side, smirking in his chair. Why had her father chosen to make this such a public rebuke, she wondered? What had she done to deserve this low treatment? ‘I never suggested such a thing, Father,’ she tried to interject, but her voice was so quiet that he rolled over her again.

  ‘But you thought it, didn’t you? Wanted it to be so?’ He strutted back and forth in front of Amma, crossly, his ample girth jiggling, his rich, blue cloak swishing angrily across the floor. ‘I’m sure it was only a matter of time before you brought it up yourself, tried to win my favour for the match.’ He stopped and glared down at her, his dark eyes bulging out of his insipid face. ‘It was never going to happen. It will never happen!’ He harrumphed loudly and stepped back to sit in his chair, which shuddered beneath his weight. ‘The only wedding we shall be celebrating is mine, my girl, and you will remember that!’

  Amma could feel her bottom lip quivering. Tears were dampening her eyes. Perhaps she should let her father see her cry? Perhaps it would soften him? Remind him that he loved her, that he cared about her happiness.

  ‘And you can stop those tears! If you think that’s going to make a difference, it won’t!’ He turned and whispered to Osbert.

  Amma ducked her head and wondered if she could leave without him yelling at her any further; she was desperate to escape.

  ‘Amma,’ Lothar’s voice softened as he motioned for her to come to him. ‘Come, come here.’ She reluctantly walked to stand in front of her father, and he leaned forward, peering into her eyes. ‘Aleksander Lehr is no one. And you are the daughter of a king. Not just any king, either, but the King of Brekka, a Furyck king! I will not allow my daughter to marry a no one.’ He grimaced, lifted one buttock, and farted loudly. ‘I only want the best for you, just like I did for Getta. She is now Queen of Iskavall. Queen! And she’s not much older than you. Can Aleksander offer you that? No! He can offer you a tiny cottage, a few rags, and not much else. But you will have more than that, I promise you. So much more!’

  Amma feared what he meant by that. She saw Osbert out of the corner of her eye, enjoying her discomfort, a knowing smile growing on his nasty little face. She thought about Aleksander and felt embarrassed; relieved that he wasn’t here to witness her humiliation. She felt foolish then, foolish, and so very alone.

  Jael wondered where Eadmund was. She wasn’t the only one. There were a few faces turned towards the hall’s closed doors, waiting to see if anyone else was going to open them. She glanced at Ivaar with his keen eyes and decided it was better that Eadmund had stayed away. He would need a clear mind and a quick tongue to face his brother, and she didn’t imagine he would find either of those in a jug of ale.

  ‘They make a good couple, don’t you think?’ Thorgils mocked, gesturing with his head towards Ivaar, who was clapping Tarak on the back; the two of them apparently old friends.

  ‘It’s hardly a surprise. Rats will gather together,’ Jael said softly.

  ‘He certainly is that. I don’t blame Eadmund for staying away,’ Torstan mumbled.

  Ivaar turned to look at their little party then, and such was the look on his face that Torstan froze.

  Jael laughed. ‘It’s alright, Torstan, I’ll keep you safe.’

  That managed to raise a half smile on Thorgils’ face. He sipped distractedly on a cup of mead, doing everything he could to avoid looking for Isaura. He had a sense that she was talking with Eydis but he didn’t want to be caught searching for her, especially not by Ivaar, whose eyes were patrolling the hall.

  ‘She looks so sad,’ Jael whispered quietly to him as Torstan slipped away to top up his cup.

  ‘Ahhh, best that we don’t talk about it,’ Thorgils muttered, dropping his head, wanting to hide the unhappiness he could barely keep off his face. ‘There’s nothing I can do about it.’

  ‘Not yet, anyway,’ Jael said thoughtfully as she stared at Tarak and Ivaar. ‘But don’t lose hope, my friend, there will be something we can do, I promise you.’

  ‘Hello again,’ Ivaar smiled as he approached. Thorgils nodded and raised his empty cup, leaving quickly to fill it.

  He was handsome, Jael thought, as she considered Ivaar closely by the high flames of the fire; certainly to look at, with his well-groomed beard and his carefully cropped hair. He looked as though he spent much time on his appearance; that what people thought of him mattered. He appeared confident, his eyes constantly roaming over her face and body. She had to fight the urge to slap him to make him stop.

  ‘Are you pleased to be back then?’ Jael said, with effort.

  ‘I am. Very pleased.’ He didn’t blink. ‘It’s been a long time, an unfortunate time for us all. I am just relieved my father decided he was ready to bury the past and make a new future, one that we could all benefit from.’

  Ivaar was standing too close to her. The hall was noisy, but not so loud that he needed to stand this close. Jael couldn’t risk stepping back, though; he was testing her. She kept her eyes up and her body rigid. ‘Yes, your father seems very intent on creating new futures for everyone, it seems.’

  Ivaar laughed. ‘Mmmm, I was surprised when I heard Eadmund had married you. It was an interesting choice, and one I don’t imagine you made for yourself.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘Eadmund? No.’ Ivaar shook his head, dismissively, his lips turned up in a smirk. ‘My brother is a fair enough warrior – although, I’ve heard that’s not quite the case anymore - still, even when he was at his finest, when they called him Eadmund the Bold, even then I couldn’t imagine he would have been your choice. That a Furyck would wish to marry
an Islander? One step removed from a slave?’ He laughed, and it sounded hard-edged. ‘But I suppose we are all tokens in our father’s games, until we become the kings and queens ourselves and then the games are ours to play.’ He angled his head towards her; it was a challenge.

  Jael continued to smile easily at him, but thoughts were chasing each other around her head. He was supposedly her enemy, but he didn’t know that for certain, did he? Here he was, talking to her, looking to find out which side she wanted to be on. He would have seen her with Thorgils and assumed a lot from that, but perhaps could she confuse him now, make him wonder where her true loyalty might lie... if she even knew herself.

  ‘No, that is true,’ Jael said, her smile friendly and open. ‘I did not come here for your wretched brother. Yet, here I am. The threads of our lives are often pulled in different directions, away from what we may have wanted or imagined was being woven for us.’

  ‘True. I had thought your father would make you queen after his death.’

  Talk of her father always made Jael uncomfortable; he was not long enough dead, not yet. Her eyes faltered, and she was happy to let him see it. ‘Yes, well, there you have it. The kings do make all the decisions, don’t they? Although, it seems you have a good chance of being one yourself now, which I imagine you had all but given up on.’

  She was blunt, he noticed, and he liked that. Attractive too, despite her bruised face, and that scar that sat dangerously close to those very green eyes. He saw a fire in her that heated him quickly. After so many years of enduring his insipid wife and a handful of thick-headed servant girls, here was a real woman, blade-sharp and fiercely strong. He would love to see what she could do with a sword. More than that, he would love to see what she could do to him in bed. ‘That is true. I had thought I would just wither and die on that shit heap of an island, but here I am, rising from the ashes. Back where I belong, and happy for it. It does feel good to be home.’

  Ivaar stared at Jael with such blue-eyed intensity that she had to work hard not to flinch. He was intrigued by her, it seemed, or at least was trying to appear so. She remained still, her smile hardening, her eyes narrowing, holding his gaze. There was a chance here, she saw, a chance to be part of the game, and for all their sakes, she was going to take it.

  29

  Tuura was an ancient stronghold; a tiny, remaining speck on the land that had once belonged solely to its people. Before the Furyck settlers had arrived, escaping the burning ruins of Osterhaaven, they had roamed these lands, their land, with freedom. Now, 800 years later, they were feasting on mere scraps, their grip at the northern tip of Osterland becoming increasingly precarious. There were regular incursions from the Northerners across the sea now, even raiders from Iskavall, to the south, tried to break through their defences, stealing what food and treasure they could find. And so Tuura had been forced to build its walls even higher, hoping to keep its ever-encroaching neighbours at bay.

  It was not how she remembered it, Edela thought sadly as she stared at the heavily fortified town through the sinking gloom of the afternoon. Tuura had once felt like a free place. There had been walls, of course, but they had felt much less oppressive than what she was looking up at now. Now, Tuura resembled a prison; its thick, stone walls, topped with sharpened wooden palings, reached as high as a small mountain.

  Aleksander glanced quickly at Edela, sensing her unease. They halted the horses just before the wooden gates, waiting patiently behind a line of farmers and traders. He had been to Tuura only once, and it was not a place he had planned to revisit. His eyes tried not to seek out much, lest he saw ghosts lurking in the places that tormented his dreams. Aleksander just wanted to stable the horses and find something hot to eat, preferably indoors. The sun was trapped behind a thick hedge of clouds and the late afternoon cold was closing in around them. He shuddered, wrapping his cloak tightly around himself

  He did not want to be here again.

  The line moved ahead quickly enough, and despite a brief interrogation and inspection of their horses and saddlebags, they were ushered inside the gates with ease.

  It was darker in here now, Edela noticed as her eyes flitted eagerly around her long-forgotten home. The high walls imposed themselves upon the town, leaving much of it in shadow. She had left here with Gisila, so many years ago, on their way to a new life in Brekka with Ranuf Furyck. Tuura had remained close to her heart, though, and she’d returned many times to visit her mother and Branwyn, until that night, when everything had changed. She had never felt the same way about it again and had barely visited since.

  They rode on, down the main thoroughfare, which was broad and thick with well-trodden slush. Edela looked around in distress, noting the buildings in need of repair, the paths whose boards had worn through and not been replaced. Even the children who ran alongside her and Aleksander looked ragged and dirty. Despite the illusion of wealth and power the new fortifications created, Tuura felt like a crumbling ruin.

  ‘Mother?’ Edela turned to see her daughter, Branwyn, rushing towards her, bustling her way through the bunches of curious onlookers, standing around in the snow, peering at the visitors.

  Edela’s face creased into a joyful smile. It had been so long since she’d seen her youngest daughter. She felt a pang of guilt but blinked it away as Branwyn grabbed her hands.

  ‘Mother! This is a surprise! What are you doing here?’ Branwyn’s gentle, brown eyes were wide with happiness. She had similar features to Gisila and had inherited some of her beauty, but whereas Gisila was lean and refined, Branwyn was buxom and soft, her face rippling with the soft wrinkles of a happy life. ‘How did you ride all the way on that?’ She pointed at her mother’s horse, her eyes blinking in surprise.

  Aleksander reached up to grab Edela around the waist, gently lowering her to the ground. She couldn’t help the groan that escaped her frozen lips when her boots touched the snow, nor the series of loud creaks as her joints readjusted themselves.

  ‘Oh, that?’ she smiled, sighing heavily. ‘Well, I had a dream that I must come and visit you, that it had been far too long. So, I forced dear Aleksander here, to accompany me on an old lady’s whim.’ She stretched out her back gingerly. ‘Although, I’m not sure I’ll ever be the same again!’

  Branwyn laughed and hugged her mother tightly. ‘You look so well! Truly. It is so good to see you.’ She smiled at Aleksander, who was trying not to make eye contact with anyone. ‘Come, come along, and we will take the horses to the stables. I’m sure they have plenty of room. Then we can find something warm to fill your bellies. You look frozen!’

  Aleksander raised an eyebrow towards Branwyn. There was a woman to admire, he decided. Horses first, then food; Jael would have approved. He grinned and picked up the reins of their two leading horses, falling in behind Edela and Branwyn, who were already thick in conversation, their heads bent towards each other in easy familiarity.

  ‘I cannot believe how grown up you are,’ Isaura smiled wistfully as she glanced at Eydis. ‘I remember when I used to look after you and braid your hair. You hated it so much that you would run crying whenever you heard me coming. Do you remember?’

  Eydis smiled shyly. ‘I do. You would tighten the braids so much that my head would ache. I would beg my mother to keep you away from me!’

  Isaura looked horrified. ‘Oh no, did you? That’s terrible. I must have gotten better at it, though, as my daughters are not scared of me yet, and I’ve been braiding their hair since they were very young!’ She reached out and patted Eydis’ arm. ‘It is so good to see you again, dear Eydis, to see this hall again. Your father has improved it greatly.’

  ‘So he tells me,’ Eydis sighed. ‘I do see it in my dreams, if you can believe that? My dreams are filled with pictures of how it must be in here. I’m sure I imagine it as the grandest hall there ever was.’

  ‘Which is a good thing to do. Sometimes, all we have are dreams to hold onto, so it’s best to make them grand.’

  She sounded so fo
rlorn that Eydis felt uncomfortable. She didn’t know where Ivaar was – there was too much noise in the hall for that – but she couldn’t feel him nearby. Still, she didn’t want to say anything out of turn that would cause problems for Isaura.

  ‘How is Eadmund?’ Isaura asked, scouring the hall again, but there was still no sign of him. ‘I don’t imagine he was happy about us returning.’

  Eydis hung her head. ‘No,’ she whispered somberly, then lowered her voice. ‘Is Ivaar nearby?’

  ‘No, no, he’s talking far away. You can speak freely. I will tap your arm if he comes close.’

  Eydis nodded, relieved, but she whispered anyway. ‘Eadmund is not himself. He has not recovered since Melaena died. I thought Jael would be able to help him, and she did for a while, but in the end, it was all too late. Evaine fell pregnant, and Father sent her away.’

  ‘Evaine Gallas? Fyn’s sister?’ Isaura was shocked. ‘Oh dear. I can imagine your father wasn’t happy about that. I do remember Evaine,’ she murmured, frowning. ‘She was such an annoying little girl, always following him about.’

  ‘Well, she never stopped, not even when he had a wife.’

  ‘What did your father do with her?’ Isaura wondered, her eyes wide, her voice hushed.

  ‘Father banished her to Rikka, to live with her aunt.’

  ‘Oh well, they will make good company for one another, won’t they? That old crone Morana was always a strange one.’ Isaura watched as Ivaar walked over to speak to Jael, for the second time, she noted; he was already busy playing his games it seemed. ‘And what about Eadmund’s new wife? How is she?’

  Eydis’ troubled face broke into a smile. ‘Jael? She is perfect for Eadmund. She is everything he needs. He had gotten so much better before this happened. It was certainly because of her.’ Her eyes glazed over. ‘I’m not sure what will happen now. I don’t know how Eadmund will cope with Ivaar being here. I imagine he will go back to being drunk all the time,’ she sighed.