Mark of the Hunter: An Epic Fantasy Adventure (The Lords of Alekka Book 2)

by A. E. Rayne

  ‘Hakon?’ Ivan glanced at Lief, who looked just as concerned.

  Hakon shook his head, eyes sharpening. ‘We need ships! We have enough gold to buy them. As you said, Cousin, why let Ottby get in the way of what we seek. We’ll wait out winter, make our plans. Build ships. Send men to buy more, steal them if necessary. We’ll gather a fleet together ready for the Thaw, and then we’ll begin.’ His belly burned, the pain intensifying, and he had to clench his jaw to keep it at bay.

  ‘That sounds the most sensible plan, my lord,’ Lief agreed, though there was no enthusiasm in his voice. He felt on edge. The sounds in the forest were disturbing, unsettling. He was worried about Falla. He had to be strong for her, but his concerns were multiplying, and he didn’t feel confident that Hakon was the right man to get them back to Slussfall alive.

  He could almost feel the gods watching them, waiting to strike.

  ‘It does,’ Ivan agreed. ‘Ships is the answer. I’ve always thought so. And once we command Stornas, we can finish the Vilanders. They’ll be surrounded by then!’ The thought of it made him smile, which was a nice change.

  Hakon smiled too, mostly for show. ‘Agreed. We’ll hunker down in Slussfall, build ourselves a new fleet over winter. Attack Stornas come spring.’

  ‘And if they come for us in the meantime, my lord?’ Lief hated to say it, not wanting to unbalance Hakon again, but he needed to know. ‘Ake returned to save Ottby. It may be that he’s already on his way to Slussfall.’

  No one wanted to think about that, but Hakon couldn’t ignore it. Ake Bluefinn had an army bigger than any he could mount now. ‘Then he’ll find out how impenetrable Slussfall can be. Unlike Ottby, we won’t have a problem holding our walls.’ He thought of Mother, knowing how much she’d helped them get into that old fort; wondering where they would have been without her. ‘We’ll find a dreamer too. A dreamer will help. I’ll send you out when we return home, Ivan. You can buy me a dreamer!’

  Alys had left Stina and Falla behind, heading into the trees with Eddeth.

  ‘Something’s happened,’ Eddeth decided. ‘You look worried.’

  Alys had seen flashes of trouble while she sat around the fire, a smile on her face and fear in her heart. ‘My grandfather is captured. I heard Magnus screaming. I think they’re in even more danger now.’

  ‘In Slussfall?’ Eddeth wondered, blinking rapidly. ‘Are they in Slussfall?’

  Alys nodded. ‘Yes, I think so.’ She glanced around. ‘We just have to leave quickly in the morning. Not have any more trouble tonight.’

  ‘And if we do?’

  ‘Trouble is coming for Hakon. The gods have sent that trouble, and we can’t get in the way. If something happens tonight, we have to try and escape.’ It felt wrong to say because they would be turning their backs on those who needed help, but she had to think of the children. Of Jonas and Vik. They were all in trouble, Alys could feel it.

  They couldn’t delay getting to Slussfall.

  ‘Agreed!’ Eddeth wheeled around, shivering all over. ‘Let’s get back to the fire. I’m going to knock out a tooth if I don’t warm up soon!’ And one hand on Alys’ elbow, she urged her back through the trees.

  Vik returned to the campsite, cold and worried.

  Angry too.

  Ulrick Dyre.

  That old prick.

  Ulrick Dyre had captured the children, sold Magnus and kept Lotta. And now, thanks to him, both Jonas and Magnus were back in the prison hole.

  He felt relieved that Lotta was alive. Magnus and Jonas too.

  But for how long?

  He barely cared about the flames he was trying to bring to life, though he wouldn’t be able to help anyone if he froze to death in the night. So, leaning over, he tried to keep the wind away from the flames as they struggled near the wet moss and tinder.

  It was no surprise that Jonas had been recognised, though Vik knew that his chances of slipping back into the fort and getting them all out had greatly diminished. Especially now that Ulrick would be on the look out for more trouble.

  Wafting the smoke with his hands, Vik’s frown deepened, his stomach rumbling, though he had no appetite. He just needed an idea.

  And thinking of Ollo Narp, he realised that more than anything, he needed some help.

  22

  ‘Things are going well, then,’ Jonas grinned, trying to cheer Magnus up, though the smell of the prison hole was eye-watering, and he wasn’t surprised that his great-grandson looked ready to cry.

  Leonid was there, blinking rapidly, full of questions. ‘What happened? Why are you back?’ He felt guilty for being glad, but no one else would even speak to him. A few of the shadowy figures had yelled at him. One kept threatening to saw off his tongue. He felt relieved to have company, and almost happy to see Jonas.

  It gave him a lift.

  ‘Well, things didn’t unfold quite as I’d hoped,’ Jonas admitted wryly. ‘Though, there’s always tomorrow!’ He glanced around, trying not to inhale, eyes on the iron door that had slammed shut behind him. He’d caught a glimpse of Ollo’s face before he closed the door, and nothing about that face had encouraged him.

  But there was Vik, and Vik was more resourceful than anyone he knew.

  ‘So when do they bring supper?’ Jonas wondered, pulling Magnus close. ‘I quite fancy a nice leg of pork. A few beans. Dumplings and gravy.’

  Magnus wrapped his arms around Jonas’ waist. ‘What about Lotta? Why didn’t she say anything? What was wrong with her?’

  It was a good question, and Jonas feared the answer, though he didn’t want to say a word about Lotta being a dreamer. He’d seen her with her eyes closed. In the midst of all that panic and confusion, he’d caught a glimpse of his little great-granddaughter, and he knew that she was trying to find answers.

  Bergit was almost angry to see her husband.

  She’d been planning to make the cottage up nicely before his return, imagining she had weeks to go. She had wanted to buy a few barrels of ale to go with her new cask of wine, hoping to tidy herself up too. But here she was, at the door, hair tangled by the wind, wearing her oldest, least flattering dress, socks on her feet.

  She didn’t notice the girl.

  Not at first.

  ‘I... Ulrick!’

  He almost collapsed into the cottage, eyes on his beautiful wife and her generous lips. Hands quickly around her waist, dropping to her rump, he pulled her to him, kissing her, feeling the sweet softness of the body he’d missed so desperately. He smiled, happy to touch her again. Relieved to be home.

  Bergit pulled back, desperate for a breath. ‘You’re frozen solid!’ She looked him up and down, feeling the familiar scratch of his beard on her lips. And then her eyes drifted past her husband to the little girl who lingered by the door. ‘Who’s that?’

  Ulrick’s lips wobbled. He’d waited for this moment for longer than he could remember and tears pricked his eyes. ‘This is Lotta.’ And turning back, he encouraged Lotta to come forward. She looked frightened and tired, and she hesitated.

  Bergit did not look pleased to see her at all.

  ‘What is she...’ Bergit couldn’t even force a smile. ‘I don’t understand.’

  Ulrick barely noticed her irritation as he grabbed Lotta’s hand, gently tugging her into the cottage. ‘Let’s get you by the fire. What a cold day we’ve had, Lotta and I.’ He shut the door, locking it, shaking snow from his hair, flapping his beard. ‘It’s bitter out there!’ And seeing that Bergit had remained staring at the door, not moving, he let go of Lotta and embraced his wife again. ‘I brought her for you, my love. For us. So we can be a family again. At long last, we can be a family again!’ And kissing her, he watched her eyes.

  Which remained dead.

  Lotta’s eyes went to the flames, which beckoned, orange and bright, and holding out her hands, she walked towards them. The cottage was pleasant enough. A generous supply of lamps around the various tables of the small main room created a warm glow, and Lotta could see
a door which likely led to the bedchamber Ulrick was always talking about. It was closed. She saw the kitchen area, shelves replete with jars and bowls; the small table with two chairs; a long bed nearby, layered with furs and pillows. And shuddering suddenly, Lotta was back in Ullaberg, listening to her father.

  ‘But where are they?’ Arnon de Sant screamed at the old woman.

  Ria the hunchback, Lotta saw. The healer.

  ‘Those raiders took the women! But where are my fucking children?’

  Ria was crying. She was old and scared, and Arnon de Sant was almost shaking her.

  Lotta felt sorry for her, embarrassed that she shared the blood of a man as cruel as her father. And then horrified.

  What was she seeing?

  ‘Lotta, come here. Come and see your new bed.’

  ‘Ulrick!’ Bergit moved quickly as her husband aimed for that shut door. ‘Ulrick, we didn’t talk about this! I thought it was time!’

  ‘Time for what?’ And pushing open the door, Ulrick froze, seeing the changes Bergit had made to their daughter’s chamber. All her things were gone, replaced by a new double bed, furs on the floors, tapestries he didn’t recognise on the walls.

  Bergit’s shoulders slumped as he spun back to her, pain in his eyes. ‘It’s been years. Nearly twenty years! We couldn’t keep a chamber for a dead girl, or for one who would never come. I couldn’t have any more children. You know that! I thought it was time. Time for a new life. We’re going to Stornas, you said. A new beginning.’ She felt irritated, her plans for that new life not involving a small girl with big eyes and long blonde hair.

  Lotta peered into the chamber as Bergit shut the door.

  ‘I’ve been buying what we need for the journey. For our new home. Our new life down south. We talked about it!’ Her husband had frozen before her, and grabbing his hand, she squeezed it tightly. ‘We talked about it!’ she insisted, elbowing the girl out of the way.

  Ulrick noticed, and taking Lotta’s hand, he drew her back to the fire. ‘You sit there. I’ll find you a cup of milk. You’ll be thirsty after our long day.’ He was angry and disappointed, and most of all, hurt. He couldn’t even look at Bergit as he placed Lotta on a stool and headed for the kitchen area.

  Lotta stared up at Bergit, surprised to see the venom in her eyes.

  She didn’t appear to be a woman who wanted a new daughter.

  Not at all.

  ‘You’re not coming to bed?’ Elin wondered, slipping her hand into Reinar’s. He’d been at the map table for hours, and she’d finally lost patience, too tired to wait any longer. ‘Ever?’

  ‘No, I need to keep thinking. It’s better now everyone’s gone. I can almost see things clearly.’ He noticed Sigurd out of the corner of his eye, wishing Ludo goodnight as he left the hall.

  There was no sign of Ilene, who’d disappeared earlier with Berger Eivin.

  Reinar smiled, pleased about that, though he didn’t blame his brother for seeking a way to numb the pain. He thought about what he’d done with Alys, though a few harmless kisses wasn’t something to worry about, he decided, flashes of guilt making him uncomfortable enough to doubt that statement.

  ‘Well, don’t be long. You need sleep.’

  ‘I do.’ And bending down, Reinar kissed his wife. ‘I need sleep and training and a fort with gates that lock and men with weapons, fully armoured, and water-tight ships with competent helmsmen and –’

  Elin held a finger to his lips. ‘And sleep. Most of all sleep.’ And taking away her finger, she kissed him again.

  Reinar held her close, losing the desire to remain at the map table at all. Things were slowly becoming more familiar, and he felt an urge to make up for lost time, but hearing Sigurd’s footsteps behind him, he let Elin go. ‘Well, I’m sure sleep will be in short supply tonight,’ he grinned, listening to a hungry cry in the distance.

  ‘I shall have a pillow over my head!’ Elin laughed, turning away. ‘Goodnight, Sigurd.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ Sigurd muttered, stopping beside Reinar. The crying baby didn’t bother him, but seeing Elin did. She had the same eyes as her brother, and it was becoming difficult to see them as two different people now. In all the years he’d known Elin, she’d given him no reason for concern. She could be a little up and down, but she’d always been kind, and his brother had been happy with her. Though now, after Torvig had killed Tulia, and Elin had run away from Reinar, he saw her through different eyes.

  ‘You alright?’ Reinar had noticed his scowling.

  Sigurd shrugged. ‘I want to kill something or hump someone or cry.’

  ‘Well...’ Reinar shook his head. ‘I’d go with crying. Makes the most sense. You need to do some of that, I’d say. Likely the other two would just get you in trouble one way or the other.’

  Sigurd nodded, agreeing. ‘What are you looking at?’ He inclined his head to the map.

  Reinar turned back to it, happy to be tinkering. ‘Slussfall. We need a way into the fort. A way to kill Hakon Vettel.’

  Sigurd grabbed the ale jug, pouring himself a cup. ‘And his cousin.’

  Reinar smiled. ‘That’s what Ake wants. No more Vettels.’

  ‘Which means we have to kill the baby too.’

  Reinar grabbed Sigurd’s arm. ‘Ssshhh! What are you saying that for?’ He glanced around, but there was no one in the hall now. Not even a servant.

  ‘Alright, calm down,’ Sigurd grumbled, elbowing his brother away. ‘You think Ake wants to leave any threads of that family dangling? I imagine he wants us to cut them all, even if he hasn’t asked outright.’

  ‘Oh no, he’s asked outright.’

  ‘Has he?’

  Reinar sighed, still unsettled by Ake’s words. ‘I... I can’t even imagine what we’re going to do about that.’ His voice was low, not wanting anyone to know. Not wanting to even think about it himself.

  ‘Well, he’s right. Alekka can’t suffer through more of the same. Every twenty years another Vettel rising up, wanting to claim the throne? They have to be ended, Reinar. All of them. Every last one, child or not.’

  His brother sounded oddly cold, Reinar thought. Sigurd had always been cynical, barely believing in gods or dreamers, but even so, he sounded so harsh. ‘Well, let’s get to Slussfall first. It’s going to be difficult enough to get inside that fort. We don’t need to worry about... that.’

  Sigurd agreed. He didn’t like the sound of it either, but if the Vettels hadn’t been determined to take back the throne, Tulia would still be alive. She would be waiting in bed for him.

  Naked Tulia. Sleeping Tulia. Peaceful and content Tulia.

  Sigurd closed his eyes, not wanting tears to dilute his rage.

  He would fix his attention on Slussfall, on the Vettels, and revenge.

  Leonid had cried himself to sleep.

  After explaining to Jonas what had happened, and how Magnus had ended up in the prison hole with him, he had cried out of fear and regret, worried that Jonas would want to kill him.

  Jonas hadn’t known what to say. Leonid was barely a man, and not a confident one at that. Having discovered who Jonas was, he’d become so nervous that when he wasn’t crying, he was apologising profusely, shaking all over.

  They were both grateful for the peace and quiet.

  ‘I’m sorry for sending you in here, Magnus.’ Jonas felt even more regretful than Leonid, if that were possible. ‘It wasn’t the best decision I’ve ever made.’

  ‘But you were right,’ Magnus insisted, not wanting his great-grandfather to blame himself. ‘You were seen. Recognised quickly. You were right.’

  ‘I’d rather not have been right about anything. But at least we know the lay of the land now. We’ve all the information we need, haven’t we?’ He leaned in, pulling Magnus to him until his hairy lips were almost touching Magnus’ ear. ‘And Vik’s out there.’

  Magnus felt a lift. ‘Outside the fort?’ he whispered back, feeling Jonas nod.

  ‘And then there’s Ollo Narp. He tried t
o get you out, I saw that. The man wants his silver rather bad. Always has.’ Jonas’ shoulders tightened as he considered their chances of getting out of the hole before someone decided what to do about him.

  He peered into the shadows, though most of the men hidden by the darkness appeared defeated and not at all interested in their newest companion. But Jonas knew from experience that danger was always lurking, and he didn’t intend to leave Magnus unguarded while he slept. He would nudge Leonid awake after a while and get him to take a turn watching the boy.

  Though, he thought, shaking his head, that hadn’t worked out so well the last time.

  Hakon’s steward was a clumsy boy who irritated him with his fussing. Hakon could hear him mumbling as he banked the fire, stumbling around the tent. ‘Go!’ he grumbled from his bed, stomach aching. ‘Sleep elsewhere tonight, Rikkard, I wish to be alone.’

  Rikkard was surprised, though not displeased, and straightening up, he nodded, heading quickly for the tent flap. ‘Yes, my lord.’

  Hakon wasn’t listening. His mind had quickly returned to Slussfall. He felt the great relief of having captured the fort. It was a foothold in the South, and despite what had befallen them recently, that foothold remained strong. Ake Bluefinn didn’t appear to be chasing them, and that gave them a chance to start again.

  He shivered, dragging the fur up over his shoulder, groaning. The pain had dulled now, but it still throbbed like a heartbeat, keeping him from sleep. Though he would need to find sleep, for he had to wake up tomorrow like a lord worthy of a crown. Confidence could be as brittle as newly formed ice; one tiny crack could be devastating.

  Hakon’s belly ached, and his guts griped, and his head swirled with ale-soaked fears that had him panicking and angry and anxious. He held the fur tightly around his face, wanting to disappear.