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

by A. E. Rayne

  He’d been running from his smoking shed to his cottage, a storm crashing overhead, and glancing around as he reached the door, he’d seen a bolt of lightning shoot through the clouds, setting his beloved fishing boat on fire.

  Burning it to useless ash.

  There was little other way to read such an event.

  And so, feeling compelled to act by the gods themselves, Vik had packed his saddlebags and headed off after Jonas. Jonas was like an older brother to him. He had taught him how to fight in the shield wall, how to eat the mushrooms that had given him an undeniable strength in battle, how to kill without being killed.

  Vik owed him everything.

  And now he stood before the heap of ash and blackened logs, where Jonas’ cottage had once stood, debating what to do.

  The words were scratched into the path that led to a stone step, and Vik wondered if Jonas had left them for him. He chewed the end of a well-gnawed toothpick, considering things.

  Lotta - Slussfall

  Magnus sold as slave but where?

  Taken halfway between Ullaberg and Torborg

  Alys gone

  Was it a message or was Jonas himself trying to decide what to do?

  And how had he come about all that information in the first place?

  Vik’s eyes snapped to Alys’ name. And then to Lotta’s.

  Jonas would have gone to Slussfall. They knew Slussfall, or had once. It had fallen to Hakon Vettel in his push south. It was not a safe place to go now. Not if Hakon was still the lord there. He snapped the toothpick in half, throwing it to the ground. And spinning around, checking his swordbelts which he wore slung diagonally over his back, Vik walked to his horse, ready to do Thenor’s work.

  28

  They had ridden out of the fort, into the forest, and though it was not very far, black patches were flashing before Alys’ eyes as Reinar helped her off the horse.

  ‘Sit down,’ Eddeth ordered, suddenly stern. ‘You fall down again, and you’ll be in a bad way, dreamer!’ And glaring at Reinar until he helped Alys to a boulder, Eddeth walked towards the tree.

  Sideways.

  Approaching it as though it was an animal prepared to strike. ‘This is it? The tree you saw in your dream? The one you hit?’ She noted the scuffed up dirt in front of its tangled roots, not turning around to see Alys nod. Reaching a tentative hand towards the trunk, Eddeth followed the rivers of bark down towards the roots, keeping her eyes peeled. Listening. Alys had spoken of hearing voices coming from the tree, though Eddeth heard nothing but birdsong and the constant hammering from the fort.

  There was nothing there.

  So turning, frowning at Alys, Eddeth continued her hunt.

  Reinar joined her, leaving Alys on the boulder, head between her knees again. ‘There must be something here.’ He crouched down, fingers pulling apart the bushes hiding some of the roots, but there were no symbols anywhere.

  ‘It may not have been that tree,’ Eddeth mumbled. ‘This is the tree Alys hit. But there’s no reason it would have been that tree the symbols were carved into. Keep looking, Reinar!’ And bounding to the left, she pointed Reinar to the right. ‘Keep looking!’

  Alys could hear them, their voices growing distant, not as loud as the clanging in her ears which continued unabated. She wanted to lie down, close her eyes, get some sleep. Anything to make it stop.

  Her thoughts drifted to her children, as they always did, and she felt a pain in her heart. It ached, tears coming. And closing her eyes, Alys willed them away. It wouldn’t help to dwell on that which she couldn’t change. And she couldn’t change anything. Not yet. Not until she saw more. Not until she could find Magnus and her grandfather and see whether he was hunting for the children. Until then...

  ‘Here!’ came the screech of delight. And spinning around, Reinar ran through the trees towards Eddeth’s gleeful voice. ‘Here! Here!’

  Alys lifted her head too quickly, and she groaned, taking a deep breath. Pushing herself off the boulder, she stumbled towards Reinar, one hand out in front of herself, trying not to pass out.

  When she reached Eddeth, she froze, recognising the tree.

  Eddeth was on her hands and knees, pointing to the symbols trailing up the trunk. Not many. And not big in size.

  They were hidden behind bushes.

  Eddeth scrambled back to her feet, her cloak covered in twigs and dried leaves; dirt too. And without looking around, she disappeared.

  Reinar turned to Alys as she came forward. ‘Is this what you saw in your dream?’

  Alys nodded. ‘It’s a curse. I feel it.’

  ‘Of the fort?’

  ‘Yes, I think so. In my dream, the woman talked about weakening her enemy.’

  ‘So, it’s not that the gods have taken away my luck, that they’re displeased with me? It’s a curse? The fort is cursed?’ Reinar was incredulous, shaking his head. His thoughts were immediately with Elin. She had run from his bad luck, determined never to return. Agnette had said as much, but a curse? If they could remove it, then perhaps she would return?

  He blinked at Alys, not seeing her at all.

  ‘There are more!’ Eddeth cried. ‘More!’ And her voice disappeared as she ran from tree to tree, checking each one for symbols.

  Alys let her go, returning to the boulder, but Reinar followed after Eddeth.

  He followed her through the forest, checking the trees and boulders, and after some time, they returned to a cold-looking Alys, who had almost given up on waiting.

  ‘They’re everywhere,’ Reinar breathed, blowing on his hands, head dusted with snow. ‘Everywhere.’

  Alys was amazed.

  Eddeth was thrilled. She peered triumphantly at Reinar. ‘It is as I predicted, Reinar. Yes?’

  He nodded, full of regret that he’d dismissed her mutterings as Eddeth nonsense and not some actual suggestion to be investigated. He cursed himself for listening to his mother, who thought that Eddeth should be put out into the forest and left to wander like the madwoman she was. And Torvig, who’d agreed with Gerda.

  They had both been wrong.

  Mad Eddeth had been smarter than all of them.

  ‘Yes, it is, Eddeth, but what can you do? If the curse remains, we’ll surely lose the coming battle, won’t we? We’ll lose Ottby.’

  Eddeth liked Ottby.

  She liked Reinar too. He was a good lord. A cursed lord. And she wanted to help him. ‘We must cut down the trees. Get your men out here with their saws! Cut them all down. Then we burn them!’ Her eyes bounced back and forth from Alys to Reinar, looking for their approval.

  Alys was nodding gingerly. ‘You’ll need to send people deep into the forest, checking every tree. Someone carved those symbols to hurt you. Who knows how many are out there.’

  Eddeth was vibrating all over, hair trembling. ‘And who knows who did it. That’s what you should worry about, Reinar. Who did it?’ Lowering her voice, Eddeth crept up to him. ‘Are they still in there?’ And gnashing her teeth together in a nervous fashion, she pointed towards the fort. ‘Or in there?’ Wheeling around, she peered into the forest.

  Reinar frowned. There were too many things he had to do, too much to think about now. ‘Alys, let’s get you back to your cottage. Eddeth can stay with you, keep an eye on you. I need to organise everyone to cut down the trees.’ And helping Alys off the boulder, Reinar led her to the horses. Stopping suddenly, he turned back to Eddeth, who was loping along beside Alys, muttering to herself. ‘And will it break the curse? If we burn the symbols, will the curse be done?’

  Eddeth blinked. ‘I hope so. Nothing is certain, of course, but yes, I hope so.’

  Falla was surprised by how much she missed her son’s company. Being a mother was tiring and tedious. She yearned to be alone, absent of all the noise and demands, and yet, now, without her boy, she felt oddly bereft; as though part of her was missing, which was only heightened by the irritation of being forced into such close proximity to Mother, and the raven she’d brought
along, stuffed into a cage. It squawked constantly, angry at its confinement, flapping its wings in protest.

  And it was only the first day.

  Mother glanced up from the book she was studying, and Falla bit her tongue, reminding herself that she could read her thoughts. She smiled, biting her tongue again as the wagon hit a rock.

  Blood filled her mouth, and Mother cackled.

  ‘I’d say that serves you right, my girl.’

  Falla frowned. ‘I don’t like being stuck in here. For how long? How long will this journey take? I can’t even breathe!’ The wagon had a door on the side, a driver at the front, and one small window, which remained shuttered due to the increasingly dire weather. Snow swept across the marching army, blown by a mean wind, and Mother had insisted the shutters remain closed. She did not wish to die of cold before they’d even made it through the first day.

  ‘It will take as long as it takes, but it will feel days longer if you intend to moan and wail and complain as we ride. Put your mind to something else. Surely there’s something you can think of to do?’ Mother felt comfortable. The wooden seat she perched on had been thickened with pillows and warmed up with furs.

  The wagon appeared weather-proof too, she was pleased to see.

  Though there was her miserable companion, who was becoming far more annoying than any cold draft.

  ‘Do?’ Falla looked confused. ‘What do you expect me to do in here? I can barely stretch out my arms!’ She wriggled, not anywhere near as comfortable as Mother, not having thought to bring her own pillows into the wagon. She thought of Lief, imagining him on the throne of Stornas one day, and her tension released itself at last. ‘I suppose I can daydream.’

  ‘Well, that would be a good start!’ Mother was pleased, turning her head back to her book, enjoying the silence for a moment. The journey would be over before she knew it, and she would need to be ready with a plan to defeat the Vilanders, for siege towers and men with swords would not be enough, of that she was certain.

  The symbol trees were felled, dragged out onto the wide, flat field that stretched from the fort to the forest entrance, and set on fire.

  It was a terrible waste, and they could all feel that as they stared at the burning timber. Houses, fires, fences, ramparts, stakes, furniture. Wood for all of them, burning before their eyes. But they could not risk keeping the curse alive. Not for a stool or a bench. Not even for a catapult.

  Bjarni shook his head, watching the trees burn, regretting the waste. ‘As long as it works,’ he muttered, pulling Agnette close. She had been under the weather since the symbols had been found, and he’d been feeling especially protective of her, knowing that the whole fort had been cursed.

  ‘It will,’ Agnette assured him, working the anxiety out of her eyes. ‘For all her madness, Eddeth seems to know what she’s talking about when it comes to symbols. And Alys agrees with her.’

  ‘Mmmm.’

  ‘It will work!’ Agnette laughed, slipping out of his arm, enjoying the heat of the flames as she turned back to the fort with some reluctance. ‘I have to check on Stellan. See if he’s awake.’ She kissed her husband’s cheek, wrapping her cloak around her belly as she waddled away. ‘Don’t be long! Supper will get cold!’

  It was dark, and Bjarni watched her go for a moment before she turned into a shadow, merging into the night. He turned back to Sigurd, who was walking towards him with Ludo.

  ‘Remember when we used to build bonfires out here?’ Sigurd’s eyes were bright; he looked happy. ‘Away from the hall, from our parents?’ He laughed, wanting to be back in that place where none of the responsibility was theirs. Where they could stay outside the fort, young enough to have few cares at all.

  Tulia came towards them with cups in her hands, handing one to Sigurd. ‘Those trees will be burning for days!’ Her face glowed, her rich-brown eyes sparkling.

  Sigurd hadn’t seen her so happy in a long time. ‘Bet you’d like to sleep out here tonight, wouldn’t you? Stay warm by the fire?’

  Tulia leaned forward, kissing his hairy cheek. ‘I would. And you could join me. Sleep under the stars with me!’

  ‘Freeze in the snow, you mean! It’s not that warm, Tulia. You’re just drunk.’ Sigurd kissed her, pulling her close, both of them forgetting all about their ale, as Bjarni followed Ludo away towards Reinar and Torvig.

  ‘How do you feel?’ Bjarni grinned. ‘Different? As though the curse is lifting?’

  Reinar sipped his ale, watching the sparks fly. The trees were crackling with fury as they burned, the flames devouring them with speed. ‘The only thing I feel is regret. All those trees...’

  ‘But think about the lives those trees might save if the curse can be lifted?’

  Torvig shook his head. ‘You’re too suspicious for your own good. Who knows how long those symbols have been there, Bjarni. Could’ve been years! They were tucked down by the roots, almost entirely hidden. You don’t know the truth of it. Likely never will.’

  Bjarni shouldn’t have been surprised that Torvig disagreed with him.

  He usually did. But his patience for it was wearing thin.

  Reinar wasn’t even listening. He was watching the trees burning, imagining who it might have been. Who had been creeping around the forest, carving symbols into the trees, wanting to hurt them? Someone from the fort? Some of Hakon Vettel’s men?

  He hadn’t shared his suspicions with anyone, mostly because he didn’t have a clue who it might have been. And he didn’t want to sow seeds of mistrust amongst his people. Their minds needed to be focused on defeating their enemy, not each other.

  Reinar walked away from Bjarni and Torvig, who were picking at each other as usual. He headed for the trees, getting as close to the flames as he dared. The heat surged towards him in waves, and Reinar could feel it warming his face.

  Ragnahild One Eye had dreamed of him becoming the High King of Alekka.

  She had trekked all the way from her home in the frozen North to tell his mother, knowing that she was dying. Knowing that she had only one last dream to reveal. And she had valued that dream enough to embark on a treacherous journey, all alone.

  She had made it to Ottby, told her dream to Gerda and died that night.

  Her son, Ragnahild, had said, Gerda’s son would wear the Sun Torc.

  That ancient relic, lost thousands of years ago, would finally be found. Reinar Vilander would find it. Reinar Vilander would wear the torc. He was the one who would rise to unite the two broken halves of Alekka.

  Blinking, Reinar stared into the flames as they twisted before him in a mesmerising dance of heat and light, lost in the possibilities of what might be.

  Alys had spent her days in Eddeth’s fragrant cottage. She was becoming used to the smell of the healer and her strange ways, though Winter, who liked to accompany her, could not say the same of Eddeth’s cat, who hissed and spat and wedged himself under the bed in a fit of pique.

  Eddeth ignored him, deciding that she would only try to pull Rigfuss out if he started pissing all over the floor.

  ‘Your head is better,’ Eddeth smiled, sitting down in front of Alys, eyes on her forehead, which, though still badly bruised, was no longer swollen. ‘I don’t think you need me anymore.’

  ‘No, I don’t. My headache has finally gone. It doesn’t really hurt either.’

  ‘Well, then, what will we have to talk about?’ Eddeth laughed, sipping her tea. ‘Delicious!’ she decided immediately. ‘Exactly as I’d hoped! Can you not smell that perfect blending of herbs? As though they are two bodies, pressed up against each other in the act!’

  Alys blinked, trying not to laugh.

  ‘Reinar loves his wife.’

  Alys blinked some more, not feeling like laughing now. She blushed, bending her face towards her cup. ‘Yes, he does.’

  Eddeth stopped twitching. She reached out a hand, gently tapping Alys’ knee. ‘It’s a long love, that one. Elin suffered when her babies died. As would any of us.’ Pain was in her
eyes then, but Eddeth started twitching again, blinking it away. ‘She never stopped loving her husband, though.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘I had many conversations with her.’ Eddeth jumped up, tea splashing her knees. ‘We spoke! Of course we spoke!’ Placing the cup on the table, she hurried to her kitchen corner, fingering through the cramped shelves. ‘I tried to help her, I did, though she would not listen. Many don’t!’ And spinning around, she brought a basket to Alys, pulling out a stone: pale in colour, perfectly round and smooth. ‘This is for you. I should have thought of it earlier. I did! Many times! Thoughts come and go, though, like the wind. I do not claim them all! How could I? I am no dreamer... or am I?’

  Alys placed her cup on the floor, running a finger over the stone, turning it over. ‘What’s it for?’

  ‘Protection, of course!’ Eddeth grinned, belching suddenly. ‘Oh, that milk was a bit ripe this morning, I fear. I may be up all night!’

  ‘Protection? This stone?’

  Eddeth snatched the stone back from her. ‘Not so fast, my dreamer. The stone is merely the vessel. It has been bathed in the glow of a full moon, but I am yet to give it its purpose. Come with me, and I shall show you!’

  Eddeth never stayed still, and she had little sense of space, and turning around, she didn’t see Winter, and she tumbled over him, landing on the floorboards with a crack, nearly knocking her head on the bed. She landed far too close to Rigfuss, who lashed out with a claw, scratching her arm.

  Eddeth yelped, back on her feet in a flash, nose screwed up in pain. ‘I shall make him into a stew one of these days, the old bastard!’ Shaking her arm in annoyance, Eddeth placed the stone on the table. ‘Although... wouldn’t you know?’ And touching the bleeding stripes on her arm, Eddeth pushed her finger down onto the blood until it had covered her fingertip. And bringing the stone towards her, she painted a symbol onto it.

  Alys’ eyes widened.

  ‘Yes, indeed, you should be impressed.’ Eddeth could hear her intake of breath. ‘For this is magic, this is. The magic of symbols. Symbols that curse, symbols that heal, and symbols that...’ She stopped drawing, head cocked to one side, studying her work with a critical eye before handing the stone to Alys. ‘And symbols that protect us from evil! Now, careful, it’s still wet. Once it dries, I’ll paint one more on the other side.’