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

by A. E. Rayne

  Hakon kept staring at the dreamer. His dreamer.

  So much more pleasant to look at than his last dreamer.

  He smiled. Mother Arnesson had been a stinking old bitch. A failure. She had failed to defeat Alys, and now, Alys rode behind him.

  His.

  The heat of the mark was a growing distraction, but Hakon forced himself to look ahead as the afternoon dragged on. He saw the welcoming gates of Slussfall in his mind, his pretty wife running towards him, concern in her eyes. The memory of her warmth and sweet softness lingered, and Hakon closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remember every detail of her face.

  ‘If you fall asleep now, you’ll never make it back to Slussfall, Cousin,’ Ivan grinned from his left. ‘Your horse looks just as sleepy as you. Likely the pair of you will wander off that cliff, never to be seen again.’

  Hakon blinked, waking himself up, nudging his horse to the left, well aware of how high up they were now. ‘Just daydreaming,’ he insisted, turning to Ivan. ‘Nearly home.’

  ‘We are.’ Ivan felt miserable at the thought of it, but thinking of Slussfall was better than looking at the neverending stretch of mountains that lay ahead. It would be another day before they crested them, though then it would be downhill until they reached Vallen. ‘It’s not going to be easy,’ he sighed.

  ‘Easy?’

  ‘Facing everyone.’

  Hakon snorted. ‘The road to success is paved with failure, Cousin, you know that. We can’t expect to stroll through Ottby and into Stornas without any trouble. What’s coming will give us an opportunity to gain the upper hand.’ His own hands twitched with impatience, wanting to get behind Slussfall’s walls, for once he felt safe and protected, he could think of how to attack. ‘Once we’re home, we’ll gather everyone together. Make a real plan.’ Ivan looked so uncertain that Hakon burst out laughing. ‘It’s a good thing for us that I’m the one destined to be king. You look ready to roll over and have your belly scratched! Is that what you’d do? Let Ake scratch your belly before he slit your throat?’

  Ivan felt insulted. ‘I want Ake dead as much as you, Hakon. You think I want to head back to Slussfall?’

  ‘I think we’ll be in Slussfall the day after tomorrow, and everything will be different then.’ Hakon bit his teeth together, refusing to speak the words he could hear being screamed in his ears. Refusing to see anything other than victory on the horizon. ‘If you can’t think of that, think of something else. Like women.’ And checking over his shoulder, he saw Falla looking her usual lovely self, chatting with the dreamer and the healer. Frowning suddenly, he turned back to Ivan. ‘Whatever happened to the other woman? Alys’ friend. What was her name?’

  Ivan turned, scanning the columns of horses plodding up the mountain behind them. ‘Stina. There was no sign of her. I’ll see if I can find her when we stop.’

  ‘Well, if she’s run away, where’s she going to go? What’s she going to do?’ Hakon was dismissive, not wanting to waste any time on the woman. He had the one he wanted most of all. And glancing over his shoulder again at Alys, he smiled.

  Sigurd had worked hard to avoid Ilene since their... encounter.

  But stepping out of the hall, he almost banged straight into her. ‘Sorry!’

  Ilene was pleased to see him, and she smiled, not moving, studying him closely. ‘You look better.’

  Sigurd grunted, dropping his head, moving past her, hearing her turn after him.

  ‘I haven’t seen you since that night. You do remember that night, don’t you, Sigurd?’

  She had a voice like a cat, sometimes harsh and screeching, other times soft and deep, almost like she was purring. He blinked, remembering the feel of her body beneath his hands. She was rounder, softer, smaller than Tulia had been. His body stirred, making him feel odd. Disloyal. ‘I do.’ Head up, Sigurd saw his friends in the training ring, eager to get in some practice before they departed for Slussfall. It felt like a long time since he’d used his sword, and he’d missed it. ‘I have to go, Ilene. I need to train.’

  ‘Well, perhaps we can train together?’ Ilene wasn’t about to let him slip away from her that quickly. ‘I need to learn all I can before we leave. I’m not experienced. I need someone to help me.’

  Sigurd turned to her with a sigh, determined to send her on her way, but she was looking at him with fear in her eyes, and he felt sorry for her.

  ‘Everyone’s been too busy repairing the fort, preparing the ships. I haven’t known who to ask.’ She blinked rapidly, sadness in her voice. ‘I don’t want to let your brother down. He’s asked me to come, but what if I’m not good enough? What if I’m no help at all?’

  ‘Alright,’ Sigurd muttered, mouth barely opening. ‘I’ll help you, Ilene. We can find some practice swords, do some work together, but then I need to train with someone else.’ He glanced quickly around the ring, spying Torfinn Bellig, one of his oldest friends. ‘I promised Torfinn. He’s been waiting for me.’

  Ilene saw Torfinn fighting Berger Eivin, both of them red-faced and snarling at each other. ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Well, likely he’s just finishing with Berger,’ Sigurd grumbled, heading for the shed where the practice weapons were stored. ‘Come on, then. We’d better make a start. I haven’t got all day.’

  And trying not to smile, Ilene followed after Sigurd, almost skipping with delight.

  26

  Bergit didn’t return to the cottage until after dark, much to Ulrick’s annoyance. He’d spent the day traipsing around the fort with Lotta, making plans. He found an old trader friend who was heading up to Orvala once he sold his load of pelts and antlers. Ulrick wished he had the coins to buy every last one of them so they could leave right away, but he didn’t. Whatever he had was needed to start again up North; to keep them afloat, able to move and adapt; to find shelter and eat; horses and weapons too.

  And then there was Bergit, who unpinned her cloak in silence, eyeing the girl as though she had crawled out of the midden pit, covered in slop. ‘I didn’t want her back.’

  Ulrick sighed, wondering how things could have soured so quickly between them. He glanced at Lotta, who shrank away from the fire she’d been warming herself by, eyes on the door. And turning to his seething wife, whose cheeks were flushed a deep pink, he didn’t blame her. ‘I’ve found us a ship. Asger Horken’s here, full of helpful information about what’s been going on up North. He’s happy to take us. Day after tomorrow, he said. We just need to pack our things before then.’

  Bergit looked even more irate, hands digging into ample hips, coppery eyebrows sharpening. ‘I won’t go!’

  Ulrick stepped around the fire to his wife, reaching a hand up to her face. She had the most beautiful skin, he thought – soft and pillowy – though there was not even a hint of softness about her now. ‘We’re not safe here. I’ve heard Hakon’s on his way. They didn’t take Ottby, which means no Stornas.’

  ‘What? Heard it from who?’

  ‘Scouts,’ Ulrick lied. ‘Overheard them in the tavern, drinking and talking. Hakon will be here soon, they said, and after I took the girl and abandoned him, he’s not going to be happy with me. And if he has a mind to get rid of me, what will happen to you?’

  Bergit smacked his hand away, smoothing thick strands of orange hair down over her chest. ‘You think I need you, Ulrick Dyre? That I simply sit here while you’re away, pining for your return? Helpless to even chop a log of wood or kill a rat? You think I can’t light a fire or skin a rabbit?’

  ‘I think there are other ways to need someone. Many more than we can say here.’ Ulrick’s eyes moved back to Lotta, which only served to further irritate his wife.

  Bergit bit her lip, trying to get herself back under control. Screaming and throwing things would hardly improve the situation, or get her what she wanted, which was her husband in her bed and the girl out on the street. ‘We can sell her! If we’re going to Orbo, we’ll need more coins to start again. Many more. We can sell her!’

 
; Ulrick’s hopes rose quickly and fell steeply. ‘Bergit, you must give it time. And as for Orbo... Asger isn’t going to Orbo. He’s going to Orvala.’

  ‘What?’ Now Bergit forgot about the girl entirely. ‘But why would you want to go there?’

  Ulrick smiled. ‘A new lord. And a new lord means new prospects.’ Turning, he winked at a terrified-looking Lotta. ‘For all of us.’

  Alys wanted to see her children. It terrified her that she wasn’t with them, able to protect them. Somehow, her grandfather and Magnus had ended up in a prison, and Lotta was nowhere to be seen. Flashes of images flickered occasionally, but nothing hung around for long, and Alys felt herself starting to panic as her problems mounted.

  Hakon yanked her towards his tent, tearing her away from Ivan, who’d been trying to decide where Alys and Eddeth would sleep now that they were officially prisoners.

  ‘Hakon!’ he shouted, annoyed at how rough his cousin was being.

  Eddeth looked just as cross, watching Hakon drag Alys into his tent as though she was a carcass he was about to butcher. She started twitching, wondering what they were going to do now. ‘Your cousin,’ she muttered irritably.

  ‘My cousin?’

  ‘Imprisoning a dreamer? Mistreating her? How does he think that will make the gods change their minds about him? Does he imagine Alys can save him from Thenor’s judgement?’

  Ivan blinked. ‘Can she?’

  Eddeth peered at him, conscious of Lief approaching with another man she’d forgotten the name of. ‘Well, why would she want to? A brute like that?’ And wheeling around, ignoring Ivan entirely, Eddeth peered at the tent, hoping Alys would be alright.

  Alys had bitten her tongue as Hakon all but threw her inside his tent. And now she stood by the small fire, enjoying the warmth of the flames, terrified of what would happen next. She kept thinking of Torvig Aleksen, who had raped Stina repeatedly, and would likely have raped her too if she hadn’t killed him. But she didn’t know how to stop Hakon. She had no sword or knife now, both having been taken from her. She had no weapon at all. And reminded of Ilene, who had viciously punched her in the eye, Alys squeezed her hands into fists.

  ‘Tell me what you’ve seen today. What you see coming tonight,’ Hakon demanded, pulling her towards him. ‘Tell me!’

  Shouting, yelling, angry men made Alys shake with fear, all thoughts fleeing her mind. ‘I... I saw nothing.’ It was the truth, but she cringed, sensing Hakon’s hand twitch. ‘Not yet. I must sleep for dreams to come. I rarely see anything during the day.’

  His experience with Mother told Hakon that that was likely true, but it enraged him nonetheless. And dropping Alys’ arm, he spun around, eyes on the tent flap. ‘Those men out there, my men, they need to see hope. A sign that we’re still in the fight. Once you entertain the thought of defeat, you lose your grip on victory. It slips from your grasp.’

  Hakon’s back was to her, and Alys enjoyed a reprieve from those menacing eyes for a moment. She could hear the fear in his voice now, and it helped relax her.

  Hakon turned around, eyes aflame again. ‘And today they saw me leading them. I was not defeated or near death. They saw me, alive and in command. The Hunter may have sought me out, but they did not see me cower and hide. I still lead my army.’ He narrowed his eyes, wanting Alys to read his thoughts. ‘I still lead them!’ he bellowed.

  Alys nodded vigorously. ‘You must keep talking,’ she suggested. ‘To your men. It would help. And...’ She didn’t want to say it, but gritting her teeth, she carried on. ‘You should show them that you have a new dreamer.’ Alys forced herself to hold his gaze. ‘Show them that you have insight again. A way to see what’s coming. It might put your men at ease.’

  ‘Well, not if you can’t see anything, Alys. Not if you don’t have any dreams,’ Hakon grumbled sulkily, eyeing his bed. Rikkard had done an admirable job of setting up his tent, and after a painful day in the saddle, the bed of furs beckoned like a drop of water in a desert. And thinking of deserts led Hakon to the Kalmeran wine waiting for him in Slussfall, and his desire to be home intensified.

  As did the burning pain over his heart.

  ‘Perhaps, but if you wish to command what your men are thinking, you must lead them. Not just their bodies, but their minds. You must convince them that you’re in control. Assure them with words as well as deeds. Give them the confidence to sleep soundly.’ Alys doubted any of that was possible, but Hakon was a desperate man, and a desperate man needed a rope to cling to.

  She watched his eyes glisten as he stepped back to her.

  ‘And if something comes for us in the night? Or tomorrow?’

  Alys didn’t know what to say to that. ‘You need your men, and they need you whether something comes tonight or not. You must show them that you’ll protect them, like a parent makes a child feel safe. You have to reassure them.’

  It made sense to Hakon, and he felt a sense of calm descend upon him, easing his anxiety. The fire helped too, as he listened to the soothing crackle of flames. He took a breath, suddenly seeing Alys with different eyes. She was beautiful, and he felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her.

  He took a step closer.

  Alys gulped, stepping back. Hakon’s eyes had narrowed to slits, the pain in his body seeming to recede enough for him to entertain other thoughts now. ‘Your men need to see you, my lord! If they think you’ve retreated into your tent, perhaps they will start to wonder if you are ill, unwell. If you... have the mark.’

  ‘What?’ Hakon grabbed Alys’ arms, pulling her close. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘The, the...’ Alys’ tongue tangled with fear. ‘The mark. If your men think you’re hiding in here, they’ll wonder what you’re keeping from them.’ Now she was speaking quickly, thoughts running like horses. ‘You need to be seen out in the camp, before night falls, so they can see that you’re unharmed. That there is no mark to hide.’

  ‘Of course there’s no mark to hide!’ Hakon snorted, worried that the dreamer could see it. He could certainly feel it burning beneath layers of mail and leather and wool like a hot sun. ‘There’s no mark at all!’

  ‘But your men don’t know that. They’ll be out there talking and whispering and wondering. You must show them that there is nothing to fear.’

  All thoughts of tearing Alys’ clothes off were gone in a flash as Hakon straightened up, grabbing the dreamer’s hand, leading her out of the tent, knowing that she was right.

  It was snowing again, and Reinar felt worried as he finished off his fish stew, looking around for Martyn, who had slipped into the kitchen with Bjarni to bring in another barrel of ale. He didn’t particularly feel like ale, but the meal had been so salty that he was desperate for something to wash away the taste.

  ‘I think Rilda tipped a bucket of salt into that stew,’ Sigurd grumbled beside him, unable to finish his own bowl. He pushed it away, turning to look for Martyn and Bjarni himself.

  ‘It’s not Rilda,’ Gerda sighed, feeling just as displeased. ‘She broke her ankle.’

  ‘Oh.’ Both Reinar and Sigurd looked worried, having loved Rilda’s cooking since they were boys. ‘Well, who made the stew, then?’

  ‘Rilda’s niece, Fenna. Though she’s not the cook her aunt is, that’s for sure. We’ll have to bring in a chair so Rilda can cook sitting down.’

  ‘Or perhaps we just take away the salt?’ Reinar grinned. ‘The stew’s probably edible under all that salt.’

  Sigurd doubted that was true, but his attention was drawn away from the subject of salty stews to the odd coupling of Ilene and Elin on the other side of the hall, where they sat together, occasionally looking their way. He turned to his brother with a frown. ‘What do you think that’s about, then?’ And inclining his head to the two women, he was pleased to hear the cheer go up as Bjarni and Martyn came out of the kitchen bearing freshly topped up jugs of ale.

  Reinar followed Sigurd’s gaze. ‘Ilene’s been alone since the Ullaberg women left. Elin felt sorry for her. She wan
ts to get to know her, make her feel comfortable. At home.’

  Sigurd snorted, his time training Ilene not softening his feelings towards her at all. She was too eager for his company, always looking his way, a constant reminder of what he’d done. ‘You’re making a mistake bringing her along, Brother. We’re not desperate anymore. We’ve Ake’s men, the new Slussfall men, why do we need her?’

  ‘I’m not bringing her along to irritate you, I promise,’ Reinar smiled, patting his brother on the back. ‘She’s decided to stay in Ottby, and she’s a promising warrior, so why would I leave her behind?’

  ‘Because she’s a scheming troublemaker. A husband stealer. That’s what Alys said.’

  The mention of Alys’ name was enough to wipe the smile off Reinar’s face. ‘Well, that’s one way to look at things, I suppose. But any man idiot enough to ruin things with his wife by humping Ilene was asking for trouble in the first place. They can’t just blame Ilene for the mess they made.’

  Sigurd felt the tip of that spear coming for him, and he ignored it, lifting his empty cup to Martyn, trying to avoid looking Ilene’s way.

  Ilene could tell, though after their training match, she was feeling confident, knowing that it wouldn’t take much to bring Sigurd around. She eyed Berger Eivin, who hadn’t stopped staring at her since she’d arrived. He was a handsome, powerful-looking man, but no lord’s brother.

  Still, perhaps he could help her capture one?

  ‘And this woman, the dreamer?’ Elin wondered from her right, voice low, eyes on her husband, who was banging cups with Bjarni. ‘What do you know of her? The one who lived in the dreamer’s cottage for a time? She left before I returned.’

  Ilene’s eyes were drawn back to the Lady of Ottby, hearing the interest in her voice, sensing her desperation. She smiled. ‘Oh, I know many things about Alys de Sant. Many things indeed. I’d be happy to tell you all about her.’

  Alys quickly regretted her suggestion that Hakon present her to his warriors as some sort of prize. She felt foolish standing next to him, face burning with embarrassment, listening to the stews sucking in blackened cauldrons, hanging over fires that smoked and spat. It was raining, a light pattering, but enough to have them all shivering, edging as close to the flames as possible. Hakon stood on a boulder, shoulders back, head high, announcing to all the world that she was his new dreamer.