by A. E. Rayne
Jael knelt on the ground in front of Eydis, pulling her into a firm embrace. She didn’t know what to say. Everything Eydis said made sense. Ivaar would certainly want revenge, wouldn’t he? For all the years he had been banished, and before, when Eirik had chosen Eadmund over him. He couldn’t rule as king when most of the people didn’t want him, not until he had removed Eadmund’s loyal followers, and Eadmund himself. And what would he do with Eydis, when there was no one left to protect her?
Eydis sniffed as she pulled herself out of Jael’s arms, wishing she could see her, to know how she felt about all of it. She wasn’t speaking, and that worried her.
Biddy handed Eydis a cloth and shot Jael a look that said nothing Jael wanted to hear.
‘Have you dreamed all of this?’ Jael wondered as she sat back on her stool, listening to the fire spitting and hissing under the steady stream of rain dripping down the smoke hole.
‘Yes,’ Eydis sighed, blowing her nose. ‘But it’s so muddled now. I can’t see what it all means. It’s a handful of pieces, and I’m not sure how to put them together. In my dreams, my father is dead, and Ivaar is king, and he kills Eadmund and Thorgils.’
Jael frowned. ‘And what about me? Do you see me there, in your dreams?’
‘No. Not anymore,’ she said sadly. ‘I used to, but not anymore.’
Jael felt a sick feeling building inside her stomach. She glanced towards the fire, imagining her father’s face in the flames, but it was unreadable; she couldn’t hear his voice as she always did when she didn’t know what to do. He would want her to take Ivaar’s offer, though, wouldn’t he? To go back to Brekka, put Axl on the throne? He would urge her to do what was right for Brekka, above all things; demand it of her, she was certain. It would be a way for her to repay the mistake she had made when she didn’t challenge Lothar for the crown after his death.
Brekka was important. She was a Furyck. It was her responsibility to care for the Brekkan people. She sighed as she looked at Eydis, who seemed so very helpless and lost. And then, of course, there was Aleksander...
Jael put her fingers up to her mouth to chew on a nail but realised there was nothing left.
‘What a day!’ Alaric laughed to himself as he bustled about preparing cups of small ale. It was all he could afford to give his guests; the ale part of it being much smaller than most would expect. ‘I’ve not seen weather this fierce in many a year.’
Aleksander smiled tightly as he glanced at Edela. She had brought them here in search of more information, but looking around this sparse, little hut and at this frail, little man, he wondered about their chances.
‘It certainly reminds me of how troublesome the winters can be up here,’ Edela smiled. ‘And how cold. I’ve had too many years living a soft life in Brekka, it seems because I haven’t stopped shaking since we arrived!’
Alaric smiled nervously as he handed out the cups. He had no food to offer his guests and felt embarrassed by the lack of it. The few stores he had left had to see him through winter, yet what he was still living for, he did wonder at times. Every year brought with it more aches and ailments, and an ever decreasing amount of joy, especially since he had left the temple.
At least he had a fire today, Edela thought as she took her cup. She felt sorry for Alaric and wondered how things had gone so terribly wrong for him. As a scribe, surely he would have earned enough coins to be living a richer life than this?
‘I went to the temple, yesterday,’ Edela murmured to her old friend as he came to sit beside her on his bed.
Alaric’s face paled. ‘Did you now,’ he mumbled nervously, his breath coming in short white bursts.
‘I saw Neva, which was a surprise. I didn’t know she had become an elder.’
‘Neva...’ Alaric’s face relaxed some. ‘She is a good woman. I’m glad it was her you spoke to and not Marcus.’
‘Who’s Marcus?’ Aleksander asked with a frown. He had heard that name mentioned a few times now and no one seemed to like the man.
‘He’s the elderman, remember?’ Edela said patiently. ‘He has a reputation for being...’
‘Firm?’ Alaric suggested.
‘Yes, firm is a good word,’ Edela smiled. ‘Although perhaps it is a little soft to describe his true nature, from what I hear.’
‘But you saw Neva, so perhaps there is no need to see him?’ Aleksander suggested, worried for Edela.
‘Yes, yes, Marcus is not someone you will see unless you end up causing problems,’ Alaric warned. ‘Then you will wish you had never come here at all.’
Edela could sense Aleksander’s unease, but they needed to know more, whatever the consequences. ‘Do you remember what happened to my family, in Tuura, all those years ago?’ she asked, turning towards Alaric.
He looked puzzled for a moment, then disturbed by her question as the memories of that night revealed themselves. ‘Yes, I do. That was a terrible, tragic night, wasn’t it?’ He shifted about uneasily, sensing that Edela was only just starting to divulge the true reason for their visit.
‘Aleksander lost his mother and father that night.’
‘Oh.’ Alaric’s eyes bulged with surprise. ‘I’m very sorry for you,’ he murmured uncomfortably, glancing towards the solemn looking man.
‘Thank you,’ was all Aleksander could manage. He knew they needed information, but he had no desire to talk about that night.
‘Yes, his father was killed trying to protect Gisila and the children. It has been hard for him to come back here, to the place that orphaned him.’
‘I see. Of course,’ Alaric muttered.
‘But we had to come for my granddaughter, Jael, because of the danger she is in now.’
One wild, snowy eyebrow shot up at the mention of that name. He didn’t look surprised, though, Edela thought. She studied his face. They had been so very close once, and if her memory held true, he knew more than he was prepared to reveal; but she had no plans to leave until he did. ‘Why did those raiders come that night? Do you know?’ she asked him directly. ‘Were they looking for something?’
Alaric took a quick sip of his ale; it was even more watery than he’d imagined and his face puckered at the insipid taste. ‘Edela...’ he shook his head. ‘There are things the elders... they don’t take well to their secrets being spoken about. You know that.’
‘Alaric, please. Jael is in grave danger. Neva confirmed it to me, and we are trying to help her, to stop anything happening to her,’ she sighed. ‘She didn’t reveal much, but if you know anything that could help, you must share it with me, please, Alaric. Please.’
‘About that night?’ He saw the determination in Edela’s eyes and felt defeated; he could never refuse her. ‘Yes. They were looking for something, yes, well... someone.’
Edela and Aleksander leaned forward; they hadn’t been expecting that.
Alaric hesitated, then sighed. ‘They were looking for your granddaughter. But they got the wrong one.’
Edela gasped loudly, her mouth hanging open in shock. She could feel the tears coming then, remembering how it been that night when those raiders had burst into their cottage. There had been three of them. She remembered it so clearly; they were so large and fast. They’d knocked down the door and ripped her granddaughter out of her mother’s arms. But it wasn’t Jael. It was Evva, Branwyn’s daughter by her first husband. She was Jael’s age, and they took her, quickly, their swords flying around the cottage, threatening anyone who tried to stop them, but it was a house full of women and children, and no one could do anything. Gant and his men had rushed in, but they were too late. One of the hooded warriors had held Evva up by her hair. Gant had lunged for him, but the hooded man had slit Evva’s little throat as Branwyn and Edela had screamed, and the swords clashed around them all.
Edela blinked, tears running down her face, trying to drive the blood-splattered memory from her mind. They thought they had killed Jael, she realised, and everything else that had happened was a way to cover it all up. But the
y hadn’t. When had they realised that?
Aleksander felt lost. ‘Do you mean your other granddaughter? They thought she was Jael? That’s why she died?’
Alaric nodded solemnly, reaching out to pat Edela gently on her arm.
‘How did the elders know? That the men were looking for Jael?’ Edela’s voice was barely a whisper.
‘How do they know anything?’ Alaric sighed. ‘A dreamer told them. I don’t know who it was. I did overhear a conversation in the temple the next day, but it was all so muffled. They spoke about being relieved that Jael was safe, that the raiders had made a mistake. But they were worried. They didn’t know how someone had found out about her, about how important she was. They said someone would have to tell Ranuf. That it was time he knew, so he could try to protect her. That she would never be safe again.’
Eydis had calmed down now and was curled up in Eadmund’s chair, stroking a snoring Ido, her eyes swollen and red-rimmed.
‘I will go and talk to this dreamer of Ivaar’s, tell her to stay away from you,’ Jael said firmly as she chewed things over. The storm had retreated, along with Eydis’ tears; the house felt much quieter now.
‘Thank you, Jael,’ Eydis smiled gratefully. ‘You will be able to see what you think of her. She sounded kind, I thought at first, but when she led me away like that, the things she said...’ Eydis shuddered. ‘I wasn’t sure what to think after that. I didn’t feel safe.’
‘But she knew about your father, so Ivaar knows he’s going to die too,’ Biddy murmured.
‘Yes,’ Eydis looked up. ‘Which is why he sounds so happy. He knows that no matter what happens, he will be king here soon.’
‘What do you mean, no matter what happens?’ Jael wondered.
‘Well, even if my father changed his mind and made Eadmund his heir again, Ivaar knows he could come back and defeat Eadmund easily. That he will rule here either way,’ she sighed. ‘There is little hope in Eadmund being strong enough to defeat him, is there?’
Jael thought on that. ‘Does Ivaar have a large enough army to do that?’
‘On Kalfa?’ Eydis frowned. ‘No. It is a small island, but he may get support from the other islands once my father dies. Eadmund has done nothing to win any of their respect, not for years. But Ivaar has Tarak and Tarak has a lot of loyal followers here.’
Jael reached down and picked Vella up. She wanted to go to bed, to find Edela waiting for her in a dream, with a calm face and a steady stream of advice. Her head was a swirling storm of dark clouds, and she couldn’t make sense of any of it. ‘How is your father going to die?’ Jael asked, as gently as she could.
‘I have been trying to dream on that, but I don’t see anything at all,’ Eydis sighed. ‘He keeps asking me to see if the invasion of Hest is a good idea. But I can’t. I can’t see anything about it.’ She paused. ‘Maybe it’s because he dies before it happens? Maybe it never happens at all? Or maybe he dies in it? I don’t know. I don’t want to think on it at all really.’ Tears threatened her eyes again. ‘It makes me feel so helpless. So sad. I don’t want him to die. I don’t want to be alone.’
Jael’s eyes were full of sympathy as she glanced at Biddy. Biddy’s eyes were full of questions as she looked at Jael. But despite what Eydis had said, she still had no answers. Not yet.
Eadmund had waited out the storm in a ramshackle hut on the outskirts of the fort. It was an abandoned heap of sticks, ready to fall down, but Eadmund often took his chances there, just for a night or two. He knew Thorgils would have been looking for him and his shoulders were heavy with the guilt of that; his friend deserved better than a life spent chasing after him.
The rain had stopped, and the wind had retreated to just a whimper, but the ground was ice, hard for a mostly drunk man to navigate, especially in the near-dark. He tiptoed cautiously through the square, on the way to his cottage, sure that he had stored a few jugs of ale there. There was barely a hint of moon, though, and it was slow going; every few steps resulting in another heart-stopping slip.
Eadmund looked up as a hall door creaked open. One of the doors had always had a loud and distinctive squeal that nobody had been able to silence in all the years since Eirik had replaced them, no matter how much fish oil or sheep fat he had ordered rubbed onto its hinges. Eadmund smiled to himself; it was so familiar that he didn’t even notice it, except now when everything else around him was shrouded in bone-chilling silence.
He turned to see who was leaving the hall and froze. Despite the darkness, he could tell it was Jael. He couldn’t help but watch her, his white breath swirling around him as he stood there in the silence. Her head was down, and he was far enough away so that she wouldn’t see him, he was certain. He stayed still and watched, a wistful smile on his face, as she walked... straight into Tarak.
39
‘Ahhh, my favourite Brekkan whore,’ Tarak boomed, loud enough for anyone to hear; if there had been anyone around. ‘Have you been plying your trade inside? Looking to tempt Ivaar again with your sagging tits and your dried up cunt?’
Jael frowned. She was in no mood to be clever with Tarak. She was far too confused for that; too confused to think clearly at all. ‘From what I know about you... Tarak,’ she spat coldly. ‘You’d be far more interested in tempting Ivaar than I ever would be.’
Tarak glared down at her, anger spiking in his pitch-black eyes.
Jael didn’t back away, nor try to move around him.
‘What do you think you know about me?’ he growled, leaning into her, his voice much quieter now.
‘About you?’ she asked with wide-eyed innocence. ‘Much more than you would wish Eirik to know, and certainly more than Ivaar would be happy to hear about, I’m sure.’ Jael was ready to go on but somehow managed to grab hold of her tongue, just before everything she had promised Fyn she wouldn’t say, tumbled out of her mouth.
Tarak peered at her closely. He needed to find out what she knew, or at least, he needed to shut her up before she said anything that would weaken his position with Ivaar, for Ivaar was going to become king, and Tarak was first in line to be his most valued advisor. ‘You should think hard on whether you have the balls to play this game, whore,’ he hissed through bared teeth. ‘Because between you and I, there will only ever be one winner. And it won’t be you.’ And reaching out, he shoved her in the stomach, as hard as he could. There was no traction, nothing for her boots to grip onto, and Jael flew through the air, landing on her back, her head slamming onto the hard ice with a loud crack.
Glancing around quickly, to check that no one was watching, Tarak laughed, and pulled open the hall door, disappearing inside.
Jael lay there on the ice, feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment. The pains in her back and her head were screaming but all she could feel at that moment was the shame of being knocked down so easily by that grinning turd. She sighed as she lay there, grimacing, as everything started throbbing, staring up at the starless night sky. And then she smiled as a few tiny flurries started drifting their way down towards her. Better to let Tarak think she was easy to defeat, she decided. There was plenty of time to take her revenge.
‘Do you need some help down there?’
Eadmund leaned over with a crooked smile and put out his hand. He blinked uncertainly into her eyes, wondering if she was alright.
‘I might,’ Jael croaked as she reached up and grasped onto him. She felt the friction in his touch as their eyes met. She groaned, loudly, as she stood, listening to the clicking and cracking in her back and hips as they protested the shock of the fall.
‘That doesn’t sound good,’ Eadmund winced in sympathy, his sour ale-breath warm on her face.
Jael hung her head for a moment and gritted her teeth. ‘I’m alright. At least it was dark, and there was nobody to see, apart from you that is,’ she frowned. ‘What are you doing here? I thought you’d be with Thorgils?’
‘Thorgils?’ Eadmund looked slightly bemused. ‘Is he looking for me again?’
‘You haven’t seen him today?’
‘No, I’ve been, ummm...’ Eadmund looked down at the ice, trying to locate any words that could explain his situation without making him appear as completely hopeless as he knew he was. There were none.
Jael grabbed hold of his drooping chin and lifted it up, ignoring the clanging in her ears. ‘Eadmund, why don’t you come back to the house. Biddy will have something cooking, I’m sure. You can rest there, and I’ll go and find Thorgils.’
Eadmund frowned, stepping away from her, his feet slipping slightly. ‘Why Thorgils? Why do I need to see him? I’m fine, just on my way home,’ he slurred. ‘Thought you needed some help, but you go, I’m fine. I don’t need Thorgils, or you.’
She stared at him, and he hated to see the pity that had filled her eyes; those eyes which were wide with something he couldn’t interpret at all. His shoulders sagged, and he felt desperately ashamed. He needed to get away, to be alone, to find that ale in his cottage.
‘Eadmund, wait!’ Jael called softly as he turned and started to leave, sliding about on the ice. ‘I can help you.’
‘I don’t need your help, Jael!’ he shouted crossly, not bothering to turn around. ‘I don’t need anyone’s help!’ and he disappeared into the darkness as the snowflakes thickened and danced through the bitter night air.
Jael stared after him, all thoughts of Tarak and revenge forgotten. All thoughts of Ivaar, and Brekka, and Aleksander were gone too. She turned and walked away, slowly and carefully.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ the old woman grumbled.
She couldn’t have been that old, Jael supposed, but she had so many lines buried into her face that it was hard to imagine she had ever been young at all. There was certainly nothing to admire about her now, but that was more because of her sour glare and turned-down lips, which were mean and miserly. Her hair was wrapped in a faded yellow scarf, her hands wedged firmly into ample hips. It was not much of a welcome, Jael decided.