Eye of the Wolf: An Epic Fantasy Adventure (The Lords of Alekka Book 1)

by A. E. Rayne

  Hakon liked the sound of that. ‘And what will those stones say about you, Lief Gundersen? What tales will they tell of your feats?’

  ‘I wouldn’t care if they said anything about me at all, my lord. I wish to see you returned to your rightful place. To see the Vettels back in Stornas, where they belong. And with my help, and guidance, you will be.’

  Hakon could hear it in his voice: that cold insistence that he should not be overlooked in favour of his lord’s less experienced, less mature cousin. ‘Of course, and I’m grateful to you, Lief. For bringing Mother to me. And dear Falla too. My Karolina does enjoy her company.’ Hakon ducked a ponderous branch, ready to stop for some ale. He had skins packed into his saddlebags; cheese and a leg of pork too. ‘Though, it’s important to remember that Ivan leads our army. He has my support. I trust him fully.’

  Lief nodded, gripping the reins tightly. His black horse shook his mane over his hands, and he frowned. ‘Ivan is a skilled warrior. He has proven himself in battle. But not as a leader. Not yet. You trust him, of course, but character comes sharply into focus when you become responsible for others.’ He lifted his eyes to the young men ahead of them. Ivan’s friends. All the same age. Joking with each other as though they didn’t have a care in the world. ‘And perhaps that will cause him problems?’

  Hakon frowned, not requiring Lief’s opinion any longer. ‘Mother has prepared everything perfectly. Now, all we need is the key to the door, and then I will open it.’ Hakon nudged his horse onwards, turning around to grin at Lief, wishing he could raise some life in his champion’s ruined eyes.

  They rode through Ottby’s outer gates, down the wide path that led towards the forest, clouds rushing at them, squawking birds scattering overhead, following each other in rhythmic waves of dark feathers.

  Despite the noise of the wolf, and the storm that had torn through the night, there was no sign of damage anywhere.

  Alys didn’t notice.

  She was wearing Reinar’s wife’s cloak, riding Reinar’s wife’s horse.

  She didn’t notice that either.

  Her children were in trouble, and she couldn’t help them.

  The grey mare beneath her was quiet and gentle, and her hooves pounded the muddy path, keeping time with Reinar on his giant black horse.

  He turned to stare at her sometimes, struggling to see another woman in that familiar golden cloak. He had bought it for Elin to wear on their wedding day, for they had married in the depths of winter, much to his mother’s horror. But Elin loved the snow and the cold, and she had wanted to marry outside, wrapped in furs, standing beneath trees draped in holly and ivy; winterberries too.

  Reinar looked away, tugging his horse to the right, heading down a narrow path, wanting to stop and talk. There was a place he used to go with his friends when they were younger; not married or in charge of anything. They sometimes camped there, just to escape their parents and their chores. And twisting and turning through the trees, his memory sparking, Reinar found his way to a covered clearing; the tree canopy like a tent above their heads; the forest suddenly dark and cold.

  He jumped down from his horse, reaching for Alys’ waist, helping her to the ground.

  Alys was suddenly aware of how far away from anyone they were, and she swallowed, glancing around.

  ‘I used to come here,’ Reinar said quietly, leading her to a boulder. It was oddly shaped, as though someone had carved part of it into a table. Smaller boulders had been pushed up against it like stools. ‘With Sigurd, Ludo, and Bjarni. Torvig too. To hide from the women.’ He almost laughed, thinking how differently they had all felt once. Now he couldn’t stop thinking about the woman who had run away with his heart. ‘Sit.’ And waiting for Alys to take a boulder, Reinar took another. ‘Tell me what happened last night. Tell me about the wolf.’

  Alys didn’t know where to begin. ‘I can’t say for certain, but I think it was a spell. One of the books in the dreamer’s cottage mentions such things being possible. You can create an illusion so real that you hear and see everything as though it’s happening to you. It’s like being in a nightmare. A waking nightmare.’

  ‘A dreamer would have to do it, then? Create the nightmare?’

  ‘Yes. A dreamer who knew dark magic.’

  Reinar placed his big hands on the boulder table, thinking. ‘Is that something you can find out? Can you dream of it?’

  Alys didn’t know. ‘I have no experience, but I can read more. I can try.’ She didn’t want to think about that dreamer at all. She wanted to find a way to help Magnus and Lotta.

  Though, perhaps there were answers to everything in those books?

  ‘Then you will try, for me. Tonight.’

  Alys nodded.

  ‘And when we discover the truth about the wolf, then, and only then will I ask you to return to dreaming about my wife.’ Reinar saw the surprise in her eyes, but he carried on, not caring what she thought. ‘For I still need to find her. She may have chosen to leave, but I have to know what happened to her. I need to know if she’s safe. If she will ever come home.’

  Reinar’s devotion to his wife was surprising, and Alys didn’t want to break his heart further, so she nodded, almost smiling.

  ‘What you do for me must remain between us, though,’ Reinar warned. ‘My father made a vow to Ake Bluefinn that he would hold the bridge to Stornas. It’s what we’ve always done. There have been threats over the years, but Ottby has remained strong. I can’t lose it now. I can’t have more deserters. Soon there will be none left. No one but Sigurd and Tulia. Bjarni and Ludo. Torvig. Amir. Soon I won’t even have enough hands to crew one ship.’

  ‘You must find a way to compel them to stay,’ Alys suggested.

  Reinar’s eyes lit up. ‘And?’

  ‘Your reputation... it is –’

  ‘Ruined. Torn to shreds. Shat on. I know all of it.’

  Alys smiled. ‘It sounds that way, yes. So you need to do something to reclaim it. Warriors flock to leaders with fame, don’t they? My grandfather...’ She stopped, images of Jonas suddenly flashing before her eyes. ‘He was a warrior. He cared about the man he fought for. He believed in him.’

  Reinar looked envious, inhaling a frosty breath. ‘My father was a man like that. He fought with Ake. He was a giant of a man, but look at him now. He sits in that wheelchair, being fed like a baby, a prisoner of his body. Perhaps the bad luck has not all been mine?’

  ‘And when did it change?’ Alys wondered. ‘Your luck? When your father took ill? Can you think of what happened around then? Did you do something to offend the gods?’

  Reinar snorted, doubting the gods could be offended by something he’d done. He quickly frowned, though, seeing the real concern in Alys’ eyes. ‘I’ll try and think. I don’t know.’ He kept staring at her, unsettled. It was hard to see the dreamer in Elin’s cloak. Reaching out, he touched the fur-lined hood, embroidered with flowers. Always flowers. ‘It’s not the warmest of cloaks, but my wife never felt the cold. She wore it year after year, summer or winter.’ He smiled, wondering if that was because Elin had truly loved it, refusing to swap it for a thick fur cloak, even in the depths of winter.

  Wondering if she had ever truly loved him.

  Alys squirmed; the way Reinar was looking at her made her want to edge away. It was as though he wasn’t seeing her at all. ‘I’m grateful to have it.’

  Now Reinar laughed. ‘How polite you are, Alys de Sant!’ His blue eyes sparkled for a moment. ‘Grateful to be stolen away from your home, having your husband murdered before your eyes. Forced to live in a fort about to be crushed by its enemies, with the unluckiest lord in Alekka!’ He shook his head, standing. ‘We should keep going, for there are dreams to have and books to read and memories to stir. And when you’re done, I’ll bring you riding again. Milka has been lonely these past few weeks. I still can’t believe Elin left everything behind, especially her.’ He held out a hand, ushering Alys back to the horses.

  Alys could feel Reinar
’s sadness return as he walked behind her, away from the clearing.

  ‘We can ride a little longer, if you like? I’ll take you the long way back to the fort. It will give us both a chance to think.’

  16

  Night gathered around them, the temperature plummeting, and Magnus shook all over, one arm around Lotta. He was pleased the men had let him sit with his sister as they ate their meal.

  Thankfully, it wasn’t pony.

  The men had been busy, killing a pheasant, a grouse, two squirrels and a wild chicken.

  It looked like a tasty meal, slightly burned, and if Magnus had had any appetite, he might have eaten something, but he didn’t. Lotta hadn’t had much more, but encouraged by Long Beard, she’d nibbled some charred chicken. He’d tried to feed her a few mushrooms too, but Lotta hated mushrooms so much that she would vomit if she ever tasted one.

  Magnus thought he might vomit.

  He didn’t know what the men intended to do to them.

  Sell them? Touch them? Beat them?

  He didn’t know which he’d prefer.

  They were arguing now: Long Beard and Eye Patch.

  Silver Tooth seemed the more agreeable of the three. No, not agreeable, Magnus realised as the man kicked him. He was less uptight about what was happening, though. Less inclined to try and take the lead. Less frightening to look at too. He was often smiling, showing off his strange silver teeth.

  ‘What are you staring at, boy?’ Silver Tooth grinned, picking his toes. He’d taken off his right boot and had been busy popping blisters and ripping off toenails ever since.

  Magnus jumped, not wanting to draw any attention to himself. ‘I thought I heard a noise,’ he lied. He would’ve loved to have heard a noise. A wolf or a bear. Something that would eat the men and let him escape with Lotta. His eyes drifted to Daisy and Clover, who seemed happy enough tied to the trees they sat nestled amongst; fire blooming in a circle of stones before them.

  Long Beard came back with a skin, Eye Patch grousing behind him. ‘We’ll head for Akaby in the morning, see about unloading the boy and one of the ponies. Might get a few coins for that fat beast. More for the boy if he doesn’t bite any customers!’ And bending down, Long Beard yanked Lotta out of Magnus’ arms.

  Magnus tried his best to hold on to his sister, who appeared both sleepy and scared. She turned, wanting to stay with him but Long Beard took her away to his bedroll, where he instructed her to lie on it. And lifting up another fur, he laid it over her.

  ‘Leave my sister alone!’ Magnus cried. He had seen men like that who liked little girls. He didn’t want him touching Lotta.

  Silver Tooth kicked him with his bare foot again. ‘Shut your mouth!’ he grumbled, taking the skin Eye Patch handed him. ‘He won’t hurt your sister. And even if he did, it’s none of your business anyway. I’m sure your sister can leave you a curl of that fine hair to remember her by.’

  Tears sprung in Magnus’ eyes as he watched Lotta, lying on the ground, tucked up in Long Beard’s fur, her head turned away from him as the man sat down, stroking her hair.

  Magnus wouldn’t sleep. He couldn’t.

  He didn’t want her to be alone.

  Reinar was in the kitchen with Gerda, though he wanted to be alone in his chamber, trying to think. He’d had no appetite for the food or the company in the hall. It had been a strange atmosphere. There was little noise. And those who were there, enjoying a cup of ale with their friends, appeared awkward, as though they too were planning their escape.

  And Reinar needed to think of what to do.

  ‘You have to send more food to the barn, Mother. If the Ullaberg women sicken and die, what was the point of taking them in the first place? There has to have been a point to what we did.’ The kitchen was hot, two fires blazing, and Rilda, the cook, was looking at him pleadingly, wanting him to do something about Gerda, who had been hovering around, fussing and complaining about everything.

  Reinar recognised that look. He saw it regularly, and not just from Rilda.

  So, shuffling his mother towards the door to the hall, he turned back to the flustered cook. ‘Send another tray of crispbreads and cheese to the barn. Some of those turnips and beans too. They need something hot in their bellies. It’s not warm in there.’ And pushing his mother through the door, he guided her back to the high table where everyone was still drinking and talking, picking at their food.

  Torvig and Tulia were arguing, as usual. Sigurd was sitting back chatting to Ludo, looking more comfortable now. Bjarni was getting told off by Agnette for something he’d done.

  And if they weren’t all about to face the wrath of the Goddess of Death or Hakon Vettel’s army, Reinar would have smiled.

  Though Elin wasn’t there, and that still felt wrong.

  He headed past them to his chamber.

  Sigurd was surprised. He lifted his cup of ale, ready to dull the pain, knowing that everything was unravelling just as he’d feared. ‘Not staying, Brother? Not for one more drink? I plan to sleep like the dead, or the pleasantly drunk! No wolf will wake me from my sleep tonight!’

  Reinar hesitated, tempted. ‘No. I’ve got some thinking to do, but you carry on. As long as Tulia has her wits about her, we’ll be fine!’ And winking at Tulia, he walked past the high table, shoulders aching with tension, dreading another night alone in his bed.

  Gerda followed him. She felt much the same as Reinar, for although Stellan had not disappeared in body, the man she had been left with after his seizure did not resemble the husband she’d once had. She felt the loss of his voice and his reassuring arms deeply. ‘We must talk about what to do, Reinar. I know you have a lot on your mind after the departures today, but it’s just the beginning. I heard the old gossips shuffling from one end of the fort to the other, talking about who would go next, who would stay.’ She sighed, feeling more uptight by the moment. Angry too. ‘Whatever that wolf was, whatever it means, no one wants to stay here now.’

  Gerda was whispering, but Reinar didn’t answer until they had left the hall behind and entered the corridor. ‘Are you saying that you’re ready to go?’ He was surprised, though he didn’t know why. Last night had been terrifying, a turning point for many, if not all.

  Gerda hesitated, meeting her son’s eyes. He looked so sad, she thought. Those bright eyes were dull with pain and exhaustion. ‘I will not go, Reinar. Not without you and Sigurd. Not without Agnette and Stellan. Bjarni and Ludo too. If we are to go, we will go together. We are a family. We either fight or run as one.’

  Reinar thought of his reputation.

  His father had been a giant. A big man with a booming voice and a cheeky grin. A man whose command of Ottby had seemed effortless. Who had always had time to sit and talk, eager to listen to the problems of old and young alike. Reinar wondered why he’d never seen beyond that. For now, as lord himself, he knew that there was so much more beyond that. ‘We can’t run. We’re sworn to hold Ottby. To protect the bridge. Father swore it to Ake, and now that oath is mine to keep.’

  Gerda scowled, never having thought much of Stellan’s oath to Ake Bluefinn in the first place. ‘He did. When he had a fort full of warriors and chests filled with gold and silver. Men and women with full bellies. Fields high with barley and wheat. That was a promise right in the making, but now?’ Gerda squeezed Reinar’s arm. ‘I doubt Ake would ask this of you now. Perhaps it’s time to send word? Let him know what is coming?’

  Reinar froze. ‘Send word? To Ake?’ It made sense, of course. But to retreat, admit defeat? Beg the king to come and save him?

  That was not the action of a man looking to rehabilitate his reputation.

  ‘Think on it,’ Gerda urged. ‘Go and think about everything, Reinar. You must do what is best for all of us now. There will be time to rise again, if that’s what is meant to be, but please, think on it.’ And she turned back to the hall, wanting to ensure that Rilda wasn’t being too generous with her portioning.

  Alys found herself unable to think
at all.

  The cat purred on the bed beside her, and the texts in the book blurred before her eyes. She shivered, wanting to drag the bed closer to the fire. And then she stood up and did just that. It creaked ominously but held together. She yawned, hoping she would remember to move it back to the wall before she fell asleep.

  The flames were welcome, and as she moved the book around, they helped her to see more clearly. Just not to think.

  Something had happened to the children. She had felt Magnus’ terror.

  She couldn’t get a sense of Lotta now, which was even more worrying.

  A giant wolf was stalking the fort, which meant that either the Goddess of Death was coming to scoop them up into her evil arms, or they were being terrorised by a powerful dreamer.

  Alys sighed, dropping her head to her hands, feeling tears coming at last.

  The walls of terror finally broke open, and pain seeped through, exposing her broken heart. Bending forward, she sobbed, seeing her children’s faces as they turned, running from her on the beach. She saw what they were wearing, saw that Lotta’s long hair was in knots as usual; that Magnus had a bruise on his chin from where he’d been training to fight. He was only ten, but he wanted to learn how to use a weapon so he could defend her, Alys knew.

  And she cried for her husband, who was dead. Not because she was sad and grieving, but for the sheer relief of being freed from him at last; spared his cruelty and torture; spared the frantic need of trying to protect her children from him.

  Her shoulders heaved, tears dripping onto the book, and realising it, Alys stopped crying, lifting it to the flames, flapping her tears off the pages.

  Winter padded towards her, rubbing his head against her arm, his purring like a gentle rumble of thunder, rolling over and over. Alys looked down at the cat, enjoying his company. She patted his head, stroking his fur, and eventually, her fear lessened, and she glanced down at the book again. Her eyes were a blur, though, so she rubbed them, trying to see. The pages had fallen open on something that made her sit up straighter, leaning towards the bright flames.