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

by A. E. Rayne

  ‘Oh.’

  Alys smiled. ‘I’m not an experienced dreamer, I’m afraid.’ She took a seat beside Karolina, eyes on the flames swirling between them. The wind was strong, streaming down the smoke hole, whistling angrily. ‘But I will try to help you.’

  Karolina peered at her. ‘My son. I only care about my son. About the one I’m carrying too.’

  Alys nodded. ‘You must keep them safe, I know, and I will help you. I can try.’ She reached out, patting Karolina’s hand. ‘Don’t worry.’ And then she froze, more images coming to mind, and Alys quickly closed her eyes, seeing Karolina screaming, holding her baby to her chest.

  And Reinar was there now, knife out, coming for her.

  38

  The chamber smelled like Falla Gundersen, Alys thought as she crept back inside, not wanting to disturb Eddeth, who appeared sound asleep by the fire. But in the blink of an eye, Eddeth had bounded out of the chair, knife in hand.

  ‘Where did you get that?’ Alys wondered.

  Eddeth was breathless. ‘Falla. A surprisingly useful woman. Strong too. She helped me help you.’

  ‘Help me?’

  ‘You need to see!’ Eddeth announced. ‘And now, you can!’ She stepped towards the table and chairs where she’d been working steadily since Falla had delivered her basket of supplies, sending a servant with the rest of the items Eddeth had requested. ‘I have more flying powder! That will help, of course, and there’s this.’ She lifted a bowl, which stunk of blood.

  ‘Chicken blood!’ Eddeth said, reading her look. ‘I also had Falla bring me Salma’s book, which has just the spell we need.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Helping Reinar of course! With this spell, you can get the gates open. You can control the guard’s minds. Make them do whatever you want!’

  Alys looked doubtful, scratching her head.

  ‘And then there’s this!’ Eddeth held up a tiny piece of blue cloth. ‘It will help you dreamwalk.’

  ‘To who?’

  Eddeth smiled, taking Alys’ hand.

  Sigurd was having a nightmare.

  Sigurd had had violent nightmares since he was a boy, so Ludo had remained mostly awake, not wanting his friend to launch himself off the ship.

  The storm was terrifying; that was keeping him awake too. Ludo was not alone in that, he could see, peering out beneath his dripping hood. He wondered how Sigurd could sleep.

  And then Sigurd lurched up with a yelp, panting.

  Ludo grabbed him. ‘Are you alright?’

  Sigurd was quickly aware of the storm, the rain, and how cold he was. How wet too. He nodded, rubbing his eyes, feeling as though he hadn’t slept at all. His hood flapped up over his head, dripping down his face. He brushed it back, rubbing a frozen hand over his hair.

  ‘A nightmare?’

  Sigurd nodded. ‘I keep seeing Tulia.’ Ludo couldn’t hear him, so he shuffled closer. ‘Tulia!’

  ‘It must be hard.’

  ‘It is. I keep seeing Torvig too. She’s losing her balance, and I’m there. Stuck. I can’t help her. I can hear her screaming, arms in the air, but I can’t help her. I can’t save her!’

  Ludo felt terrible. It was hard to know what to say. Nothing could bring Tulia back. Nothing could bring Torvig back so Sigurd could kill him. There was no way to release his pain. He glanced down, seeing Sigurd’s hands in white-knuckled fists. ‘Tulia would want you to kill the Vettels, wouldn’t she? To take Slussfall?’

  Sigurd laughed. ‘You really think that?’ It made things easier when he thought of Tulia sitting with them, mocking their ambition and their oaths to Ake Bluefinn. She wouldn’t be happy now. He could almost hear her grumbling in his ear, asking what he was doing, risking his life for a lord and a king. ‘Tulia would tell us to go home. To fix the fort. To stay safe!’

  ‘You don’t think she’d like some vengeance? For Amir?’

  Rubbing rain out of his eyes, Sigurd looked on in horror as Dagger rose up the wall of a wave, watching as the crew turned – those who were awake – gripping the shield rack, holding on for dear life.

  ‘Hold!’ Bolli roared, panic breaking his voice. ‘We’re going high! Wake up!’

  Sigurd watched as the wave continued to rise, lost in the clouds now. He heard Tulia’s scornful laugh, felt the warmth of her silky body draped over his. ‘What are you doing, Sigurd Vilander?’ she growled. ‘Risking your life for your brother again? For what? What do you hope to gain? You want to please your gods?’ He heard her laughing. ‘But what have they ever thought about you?’

  The wave rose even higher, Sigurd holding his breath now, clinging to a rope, Ludo slamming into him, both of them trying not to slide away.

  ‘Hold on!’ Bolli shouted, numb hands gripping the tiller like they were glued to it. ‘Fuck!’

  The gods had saved him, Sigurd knew, seeing flashes of his father cradling a tiny bundle in his arms. The gods had saved him for a reason, and if they gave him another chance, he would prove himself worthy. Just one more chance and they wouldn’t regret it, he prayed desperately, slippery hand losing hold of the rope he was clinging to.

  ‘Sigurd!’ Ludo could feel him sliding, and reaching out with his left hand, he grabbed Sigurd’s tunic. ‘Hold on!’

  Squeezing one hand around the rope, Sigurd tried to. Teeth gritted, he snatched at Ludo, feeling his legs moving away from him, down the rising ship, watching as a hooded figure slid down the deck.

  ‘Help!’ came the shout, as Torfinn tumbled past them.

  Whipping his hand away from Ludo, Sigurd lunged, grabbing Torfinn’s arm, locking his hand around it, feeling the wet and heavy weight of his friend dragging him down.

  He started to slide, shoulder wrenched in agony.

  Bolli felt Dagger begin to crest the towering wave, knowing that they were going to come down hard. ‘We’re going down! Brace yourselves!’

  And now Dagger tipped its prow over the wave, and Torfinn slid in the opposite direction, unable to find anything to grab hold of. Sigurd’s left arm felt ready to pop out of its socket. ‘Torfinn!’ He tried to pull his friend back to him, but there was no strength in his arm at all.

  Torfinn turned to Sigurd with terror in his eyes. Shards of lighting were slicing through the rolling clouds like golden blades, and screaming, arm straining, Sigurd yanked Torfinn towards him. Reaching up with his free hand, Torfinn snatched hold of Sigurd’s tunic, trying to climb.

  Sigurd could hear a raven’s plaintive call.

  Over the scream of the storm and Bolli’s roaring voice, Sigurd could hear a raven, and he pulled Torfinn towards him, gripping him tightly as Dagger dove towards the sea. Breath pumping, he clung on, both men shaking and shivering. Ludo released his hold on Sigurd, helping Torfinn to squeeze in between them, showing him the rope they were gripping hold of. And turning, pushing in between his two friends, Torfinn tried to catch his breath, nodding at Sigurd, who closed his eyes, hoping to find the raven again.

  Alys wasn’t sure.

  She didn’t feel confident. She wasn’t convinced that it made sense.

  There were other people to find.

  Eddeth glared at her in a very unlike Eddeth sort of way, and she sighed. ‘Alright.’

  ‘Read that chant before those herbs put me to sleep. Before someone smells the smoke and comes to find what we’re doing!’ Her voice boomed, and they both froze, staring at the door.

  Alys turned to glare at her and Eddeth shrugged, embarrassed, silently pointing to the book. Nodding now, Alys ran a finger under each line of the chant, wanting to refresh her memory. She remembered dreamwalking with Agnette’s help, wistful for the old cottage and Agnette’s friendship. Her mind wandered to Stina, and she hoped that she was safe. She hadn’t seen an image of her in days.

  ‘Focus,’ came the growl.

  So taking one last look at the book, Alys pushed it to one side, wriggling about on her knees, trying to get comfortable. In order to slip into a trance, she needed to clear out an
y distractions, of which there were many. The steady beat of Eddeth’s hands tapping the table started to calm Alys’ mind, and the familiar scent of those herbs and the smoke wafting towards her loosened her tension.

  And finally, closing her eyes, Alys saw where she needed to go, so taking a deep breath, she started her chant.

  He followed the cat to the cottage.

  It was dark.

  Snow was on the ground.

  The cat ran fast, bounding to the door, which was open.

  And with a quick glance back at Reinar, Winter slipped inside.

  Salma lay in the bed, face sallow, arms crossed over her chest, breathing ragged. He hurried inside, taking the stool that waited for him, gently placing one hand on hers.

  ‘You came,’ she smiled, though her eyes were closed, her voice just a whisper.

  ‘Of course. Winter came for me.’

  Salma opened her eyes as the cat jumped onto the bed, making himself at home by her waist, quickly padding out a spot, before curling into a white ball. ‘He’s always been a loyal friend. So loyal and wise.’

  Reinar squeezed her hand. ‘I can get Eddeth to come. Bring you something for the pain. Something to help.’

  ‘No, Reinar. I have seen my end, and I have reached it. We must all reach our end one day, all of us. Even lords and kings. Even gods.’ She paused, catching her breath. ‘We can only hope that we arrive at that place having done all our work.’

  ‘And you?’ Reinar wondered, leaning closer. ‘Have you done all your work, Salma?’

  ‘Almost...’ She smiled, tears in her eyes. ‘Almost. But there is something I must tell you. Something you need to know...’

  Alys watched them. She stood on the opposite side of the cottage, and though it was a small cottage, she couldn’t hear them. She could hear Winter purring, though, and that sound made her smile.

  Her attention drifted back to Reinar, seeing the familiar shape of him hunched over, far too big for the stool. She wasn’t convinced that she should have come into his dream. She felt as though she was intruding.

  And then he turned to her, standing quickly. ‘Alys?’

  Alys’ mouth dropped open, her heart pounding. She thought about closing her eyes, and slipping out of the dream, but remembering her children, she took a deep breath. ‘Hello, Reinar.’

  He was standing over her in two paces, wanting to touch her, but he thought of Elin, and his hands remained by his sides.

  ‘I’m in Slussfall, with Hakon Vettel. His prisoner.’ Words tumbled from her lips in a panic. ‘He knows that you’re coming. I had to tell him.’

  Reinar nodded. ‘Stina told me. I know.’

  ‘She’s with you?’ Alys stepped closer, wanting to grab his hands.

  She didn’t.

  ‘She caught us just before we left. She’s with us now, sailing to Slussfall.’

  Alys felt relieved, happy that Stina was safe.

  ‘Has he hurt you?’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head, not revealing her fears. ‘No, but The Hunter has marked him. His wife saw it on his chest. It will send him mad. Perhaps it already has? I fear what he will do.’

  ‘To you?’

  ‘To everyone. Thenor is coming for him, so he must fight to survive.’

  ‘Do you think he can? Survive?’

  Alys saw a glimpse of Jesper Vettel holding Hakon in his arms. He was just a baby, as young as Hakon’s own son. He’d looked so happy. So innocent. ‘I don’t know, but they have many weapons, so many men. Tall walls.’

  Reinar smiled. ‘I’ve been to Slussfall. Don’t worry, we’ve made our plans.’

  ‘But that’s why I’ve come, to help you. My grandfather is here, with Magnus. His friend Vik, too.’

  ‘Your grandfather?’

  ‘He’s... Jonas Bergstrom.’

  The shock echoed through Reinar’s body like a clap of thunder. ‘Jonas? Your grandfather? And Vik, Vik Lofgren?’ He shook his head, memories rushing past him of all the times Jonas and Vik had been at Ottby. They’d fought with Stellan. They’d fought with him and Sigurd when they were younger. His father had been in a brotherhood with them. ‘But... I... I don’t remember you. He didn’t speak of you. You didn’t speak of him. Why?’

  Alys didn’t know. She ignored the question, feeling unsteady, the sound of Eddeth’s drumming pulsing like a heartbeat in her ears. ‘They’re hiding nearby, in a cave. Magnus is with them.’

  ‘And your daughter? Lotta?’

  He remembered her name. It surprised her. ‘She’s gone.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘North. A man has her. He’s taken her on a ship. I must find her, but first, I must get out of here.’

  ‘And can you?’

  Alys nodded. ‘If you take the fort I can. I can show you how.’

  Reinar reached up a hand, smoothing hair away from her face. ‘No bruises,’ he grinned. ‘Makes a change, Alys de Sant.’

  ‘Well, no one’s punched me in a while, that’s true.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. You still have your sword?’ He took his hand away, returning it to his side, embarrassed.

  ‘No, they took it, but I’ve still got my cloak. Eddeth too. Don’t worry.’

  ‘Don’t worry?’ Reinar shook his head. ‘I thought you knew me better than that.’

  Alys felt muddled, feelings swirling around her. ‘Your wife. She’s with you now?’

  Reinar nodded, dropping his eyes. ‘Yes. She... came home.’

  ‘I’m glad. You wanted her to.’

  Reinar looked up, and they stared at each other for a moment, neither knowing what to say. And then Alys panicked, sensing that she was losing the trance. ‘I... you must come to the main gates. Eddeth has a plan, a spell. We will let you in. Find the tunnel, Reinar! Take the tunnel and find my grandfather. They’re in the caves. He will help you!’

  Reinar was confused, barely listening. He didn’t want her to go. ‘I’ll find Jonas. Whatever happens, I swear it to you, I’ll find him. I’ll find Magnus too.’ He took Alys’ hand, holding it to his heart. ‘I promise.’

  Alys stepped forward, wanting to feel his arms around her for just one moment.

  And then everything went dark.

  Ivan woke with a pain in his head and a woman in his bed.

  He groaned, reaching out with mostly closed eyes, trying to grab the cup of ale he was sure he’d left on the bedside table, but feeling around, he realised there was nothing there, so bringing his hand back to the bed, he shoved it under the furs.

  The woman didn’t stir, and Ivan was pleased, enjoying the feel of her warm body pressed against his. Seara, he remembered, the sweet slave who always hurried him a cup of ale whenever he entered the hall. His mind skipped to Alys, wondering if Hakon had gone near her in the night. He remembered Rikkard, and what Lief had said. Guilt clawed at his conscience, trying to wake it up, but his loyalty to Hakon remained strong. Hakon had been the leader since they were boys, and Ivan had learned early on that a happy Hakon meant a happy life for all of them. He had no desire to sit upon a throne. No need to be a king. He wanted an endless supply of ale, beautiful women in his bed, coins in his chest, a reputation worthy of Thenor himself.

  But he didn’t want a crown. He hadn’t been raised to seek the throne.

  It was never his. It was always Hakon’s.

  And yet now?

  What was Lief suggesting? And why didn’t he want to listen?

  The storm had swept away in the early hours of the morning, and Lief felt relieved. They had a lot to do to prepare the fort. If the dreamer was right about when the Vilanders had put to sea, they could arrive as early as tomorrow.

  Lief froze, feeling his pregnant wife stir beside him. Falla was always in a better mood when she had a lot of sleep, so he kept still, arms by his sides, trying not to move.

  And when the Vilanders arrived?

  Lief knew the fort could hold out for weeks. Maybe months. They had an abundance of men, though that was perhaps not the
asset Hakon thought it was, for those men needed feeding. Their stores were lower than ideal after a poor harvest, and having to take so much with them to Ottby. They were low on weapons too. Many had been abandoned in the mad dash home. Arrows, in particular, were a problem. They had taken an enormous supply to Ottby, leaving them scattered throughout the Vilanders’ fort. The fletchers were working through the night, threatened with death if they didn’t produce buckets of arrows in time.

  Lief didn’t doubt there would be death.

  But whose?

  The storm had passed, but he felt as though he was still caught up in the maelstrom, and without an ally, what could he possibly do?

  Falla rolled over, frowning at him, one eye open, slipping an arm over his chest. And pulling her close, he sighed.

  Eddeth hopped about with excitement. ‘I need some basil for our spell. Some calendula too. Perhaps they’ll let us out today?’

  ‘I don’t think so, Eddeth.’ Alys felt odd. She felt reluctant to talk at all. After the dreamwalk, she’d barely mumbled at Eddeth before falling into bed. And now, her throat was painfully dry, her head aching. Memories of Reinar were swirling around her, and she felt unsettled.

  ‘What did you dream of, then?’ Eddeth felt impatient, eager to get on with the day. She’d been boiling water in the cauldron, and already had two cups of lavender and lemon balm tea steaming on the table.

  Not even Alys’ dark mood could taint her joy.

  Alys blinked at her, trying to remember. ‘A lot.’ She was drained by it. Her dreams had come at her like frightened birds scattering across the sky. ‘I saw Lotta. She was curled up on a ship with that man and his wife.’ That didn’t make her feel any better.

  ‘His wife?’

  Alys nodded. She hadn’t liked the way the woman had been looking at Lotta. ‘I saw Reinar’s ships too. They were in a terrible storm.’