Hallow wood, p.2
Hallow Wood, page 2
part #4 of The Furyck Saga Series
Sevrin nodded. ‘They are.’ He looked across the harbour, watching as the dark shadows of enemy ships bobbed around the spires. The wind was picking up, and their visibility was reducing rapidly.
‘And you’ve men watching the rear of the fort?’
‘All around,’ Sevrin said. ‘Any sign of Thorgils and Torstan?’
Eadmund shook his head, his eyes wandering back to the narrow neck of land that rose alongside the harbour, stretching out far past its entrance.
Those ships would be here soon.
He hoped his friends would hurry.
The currents around the jagged, black stones were wicked. Like his mother.
Twisted and dark. Hidden and mysterious.
Borg Arnesson laughed at the looks on the faces of the men around him: grey with fear as they glanced up at the tall shards of rock that threatened their chances for glory. His mother had seen him breaking into that fort, though, so Borg felt no such terror. He felt confident that his destiny did not have him ending up as Ilvari’s supper. Turning around, he was pleased to see his brother’s ship, still following closely. Borg hoped he’d made the right choice sending Toki with Ivaar Skalleson. That conniving bastard was not a man to be trusted, but he was heavily outnumbered now. Ivaar had no choice but to follow the man who would be his new king.
Borg smiled, catching glimpses of flames up on the cliffs. He was not surprised to see that they were expected. ‘We land fast!’ he cried, scanning the pale faces of his dark-haired crew who bent over the oars, hoping they’d make it to land. ‘Beach quickly! Shield walls! Archers at the rear! We’ll take them off the ramparts, then work the gates and wait for Toki and the Bastard to break in from the other side!’
His men barely grunted in acknowledgement. Borg didn’t notice as he turned his gaze up to the stone fort that sat atop the hill in the distance.
Soon, this would all be his, and his enemies would loosen their bowels as his fleet swarmed the harbour. ‘Victory!’ he shouted joyously, thinking of how quickly he could get his bride into his new bed; his queen, he corrected himself. Queen Falla of Oss. ‘Victory will be ours!’
‘Faster!’ Thorgils screamed into the rain; the heavy rain that had turned the ground soft and slowed their progress. He could see the fort now, but he could also see the first ships entering the harbour. Leada was tiring beneath him, and Thorgils didn’t blame her as she snorted and blew furiously, her legs struggling up the long incline towards the fort. She had the heaviest weight to lug up the island, and he was asking her to do it at the fastest speed possible.
But he had to get everyone back in time.
Thorgils kicked her again, hearing Leada grunt in protest, feeling the thunderous pounding of her hooves, the shuddering of her muscles as they stretched to their limits, propelling them both forward.
‘Faster!’ Torstan yelled beside him, panicking, his face numb from the wind, his vision blurred from the driving rain.
Turning around, Torstan saw the fear in their men’s eyes.
Terrified, just like he was.
They weren’t going to make it.
‘Do you see anything? Any sign of Jael coming?’ Eadmund wondered, peering into Ayla’s eyes in the murky light of the windowless tower room. He had not wanted her up on the ramparts where everyone could hear their conversation.
Ayla shook her head. ‘No, I’ve not seen anything.’
Eadmund sighed, unable to hide his disappointment. ‘Well, go back to the hall, then. But if you see anything, have someone bring you back. Even if I’m sleeping, have me woken, Ayla. I need to know.’
‘Of course,’ she said quietly, jumping at a sudden bellowing from above.
Eadmund was quickly distracted, eager to get back on the ramparts. ‘Erdon, see Ayla back to the hall,’ he said, motioning to the man who was struggling in through the door with a large cauldron. ‘I’ll take that.’
Erdon nodded and lowered the cauldron onto the dirt floor, motioning for Ayla to follow him.
‘Grab a shield, man!’ Eadmund barked. ‘I need you to keep her safe!’ And, picking up the heavy cauldron, he turned towards the stairs.
Shadow Blade sailed past the tiny cove.
It was far in the distance, almost entirely hidden behind a pair of jagged black rocks which rose out of the frothing sea to shield it from view. Not many knew it was there. Not even his helmsman, it seemed, as Seppa’s attention was fixed straight ahead.
Ivaar knew Oss’ coastline well. He knew the safest places to climb the cliffs; the fastest route up to the fort; the best places to beach their ships.
But he wasn’t leading Toki near any of them.
And he didn’t know why.
‘Open the gates!’ Eadmund cried, watching the horses crest the hill. His eyes darted back to the beach where the first ships were being rushed up onto the black stones, watching as swathes of dark-haired, heavily tattooed men jumped into the water, shields up, swords and axes at the ready. ‘Arlo! Pin them down on the beach! Sevrin! Take command. I need ten shield men! Three archers! Bram, get your bow! With me!’ And Eadmund ran to the stairs, his men grabbing their weapons as they scrambled after him.
By the time they made their way out of the guard tower, the gates were already being dragged open. Eadmund pointed to one of the guards. ‘Get more men. You’re going to need to close them in a hurry! I want you ready with the beam as soon as we’re through!’ And he turned, shield up, running away from the fort towards the straining horses, his small group of men charging after him.
‘Shield wall!’ Eadmund bellowed as a hail of arrows sped from the ramparts towards the men swarming across the beach, who stopped, quickly forming their own walls. Crouching behind his shield, Eadmund could hear the sound of hooves rhythmically striking the ground; the vibrations intensifying as the horses and their riders approached.
Thorgils saw the shield walls, certain that his heart had stopped. He swallowed, watching as more men flooded the beach, battering their weapons on shields as they raced to join the walls. Arms started pointing in their direction. ‘Watch for arrows!’ he screamed, and, dropping his head, Thorgils urged Leada on. He needed to get her behind Eadmund’s wall and into the fort.
‘Archers!’
Thorgils could hear the call from the beach. ‘Go!’ he yelled, kicking Leada one more time, and despite the length of their journey, and the challenge of the long hill, she dug in deeper, straining, spurred on by those open gates.
Eadmund, Bram and their archers ducked down as arrows shot towards them. The shields held as the arrows struck, thumping into the wood. Eadmund turned to check on the horses. They were getting closer. ‘Archers! Draw! Aim! Release!’
Another volley of arrows flew towards the riders.
Torstan grimaced, head low, waiting for the impact, but it was Thorgils who went down ahead of him.
‘Aarrghh!’ Thorgils cried, feeling Leada jerk beneath him, quickly slipping his feet out of the stirrups, throwing himself clear of her falling body. Cracking his elbow on a rock as he hit the ground, he rolled away from Leada who was roaring in pain, already trying to get back on her feet.
Torstan yanked on his reins, skirting the tumbling, white horse and her red-haired rider, trying to avoid falling with them.
‘Leada!’ Eadmund pulled out of the shield wall, running towards his injured horse, relieved to see Thorgils back on his feet. ‘Archers!’ he called. ‘Fire at will!’ Eadmund waved Torstan and the rest of the riders onwards, towards the open gates.
An arrow had punctured Leada’s neck, and she appeared to have stunned herself in the fall. She was shaking her head, blowing angrily, trying to keep to her feet, but she looked ready to fall down again.
‘Come on!’ Thorgils urged, tugging on her bridle as Eadmund grabbed her reins. ‘Come on, girl!’
Bram was there now. ‘We have to go!’ He rushed around to Leada’s rump and slapped her on it. ‘Go! Now!’
Eadmund and Thorgils ran alongside the limping horse as the arrows flew in endless waves from the ramparts. Arlo was working hard to give their enemies no chance to emerge from their shields until Eadmund and his men were safely inside the fort.
‘Shields! Back up! Let’s get inside!’ Eadmund yelled as he hurried Leada towards the gates. ‘Ready the beam!’
Borg crouched behind his shield wall, assessing his options, watching the gates close, twitching as another clattering of arrows stabbed into the shields protecting his head. He was happy to let the Osslanders use up their arrows. If that old fool, Frits Hallstein, had been right, they would not have many to spare.
And when the arrows were gone?
There would be nothing to stop them getting into Eadmund Skalleson’s fort.
2
Jael jerked around, knocking heads with Aleksander, who had fallen asleep on her shoulder. It was the middle of the day, or somewhere near, but they had been awake for much of the night and were only now catching up on some sleep.
‘What? What is it?’ Aleksander asked throatily, blinking himself awake.
‘I had a dream,’ Jael panted, rubbing her eyes, checking on Fyn, who lay to her right. He was still asleep. Sunshine streamed in through the arrow holes in the walls of Sea Bear’s little, wooden house. They had finally sailed away from Tuura during what felt like the longest night she could remember, and now they were well on their way to Andala. The wind was strong, and Jael hoped to arrive by the following morning.
They had to get catapults fitted to two ships, gather all the sea-fire that Aleksander and Edela had hidden away, and sail for Oss to help Eadmund defend the island.
‘What did you see?’ Aleksander wondered, glancing at Axl who was talking to Amma on the other side of the narrow house. Gisila was sleeping beside them, Biddy and Edela next to her. Eydis was curled up with the puppies, her head on Edela’s knee.
‘Ivaar,’ Jael said, turning to him with a weary smile. ‘I saw Ivaar.’
‘The book?’ Jaeger’s fingers drummed against his legs. ‘You want me to give you the book?’ He had been so distracted by the breathtaking beauty of the woman that he’d not listened to anything she’d said.
Until now.
Draguta Teros sat upon the dragon throne of Hest, eyeing him coldly. A tall, slender woman of middle age, she possessed a beauty that was almost fragile. Her ivory skin glowed from beneath a crown of flowing, midnight-black hair. Her large, almond-shaped eyes were icy blue and penetrating, but her body was rigid, and the determination in her gaze was iron-strong.
Jaeger couldn’t take his eyes off her.
But the book?
Draguta studied him, feeling the smooth skull armrests beneath her palms, thinking of her son, Valder Dragos, who had been the first man to sit upon the dragon throne of Hest. Though she was elated to be free from the Dolma, her return felt bittersweet without him by her side.
The man who stood before her was not Valder. But he was big, angry, and determined to be king. Though... she could sense weakness.
Fear.
She could smell it on him.
‘It is my book,’ Draguta breathed softly. ‘Mine. And it belongs in my chamber now. With me.’
Jaeger swallowed, glancing at Yorik Elstad, who stood to one side of Draguta, cowed, avoiding his eyes, almost servant-like in his demeanour. It appeared that Draguta was not used to being told no. ‘The book revealed itself to me,’ Jaeger tried, suddenly desperate for some wine. He imagined his father on the throne, mocking him. Shaking his head, and rolling back his thick shoulders, Jaeger remembered how he had run his sword through his father’s chest the night before.
That cheered him.
Draguta laughed as she stood, smoothing down her dress of light-blue silk, pulling on the sleeves which were ill-fitting. Bayla Dragos’ dress, she thought dismissively. It was loose on her. A little too short. A little... tasteless. ‘Of course it was revealed to you,’ she mocked, gliding towards him. ‘I made sure of that. Once I knew your part in the prophecy, I made sure of that. And because of you, I am finally home. But you, my dear Jaeger, you look quite unwell. After what you gave for me last night? All that blood? You really should be in bed, recovering your strength. I will have great need of you soon, so you must get stronger for me.’ Reaching up, she stroked his unshaven cheek, feeling the sharp ridge of his prominent cheekbone. ‘There is much we will achieve together, you and I. This kingdom? This will be the only kingdom in Osterland soon. We shall both see to that.’
Jaeger shivered. Her touch was like ice, and her eyes were so demanding that he couldn’t look away; so intense that he felt his body being drawn to hers.
He felt powerless.
Yorik was still there, hovering behind them both, and Draguta turned to him. ‘See Jaeger to his chamber, and then bring me the book. I shall wait here for you.’ She dismissed the two men with an impatient wave of an elegant hand and turned to the row of slaves standing mutely around the walls of the hall, their shaven heads bowed, their ears open, waiting to be called upon. ‘Wine!’ Draguta cried. ‘I think I should like to try some wine!’
Yorik hurried towards the entranceway, turning around to wait for his new king. Jaeger forced his feet to move and reluctantly followed him; fleeting memories of Berard’s anguished face flashing past his eyes. He blinked them away and kept walking, his thoughts returning to the book.
He would not give it up. He would not part with it.
The Book of Darkness was meant for him.
‘How far away are we now?’ Bayla demanded, rounding on the old helmsman.
Ulf Rutgar rolled his eyes, already tired of the nagging drone of the queen who would not let him be. He had not expected to be ferrying the Dragos family to Saala, but he realised that there was a chance of more gold at the end of the journey now. And, if that was the case, then it was worth enduring Bayla Dragos’ endless stream of sharp-edged questions. ‘We should arrive late tomorrow night if the wind stays this angry.’
Bayla sighed. That sounded like forever. It was a wreck of a ship, in need of repair. And the crew looked like swarthy, murderous beggars. But, she had to admit, not as murderous as her youngest son. Tears sprung from her eyes, and she turned away from Ulf, into the wind, quickly wiping them away. She didn’t want to think of Haaron, and of what Jaeger had surely done to his father. She didn’t want to imagine what would become of them now.
They just needed to get to Saala. To get Berard some help for his injured arm.
Bayla shuddered. It wasn’t an arm anymore.
‘Are you listening?’ Karsten wondered, nudging Hanna who was watching Bayla try to pull herself together.
Hanna shook her head. ‘Sorry, what did you say?’
‘What will you do once we reach Saala?’ Karsten repeated. ‘What should we do?’
‘We convince Rexon Boas to give us men!’ Haegen insisted from his other side. ‘We go through the pass. We take back the castle!’
Karsten snorted, adjusting his eye patch. ‘You think a few hundred Saalans can help us do that? If Jaeger didn’t kill Father, those guards would have, and then they would have killed all of us. You saw the way they were. The Following has control of the city now. We can’t go back until we have a real army behind us.’
Haegen shook his head, tired and confused by everything that had happened. He didn’t want to imagine his father’s final moments, facing down Jaeger and his giant sword. There was no way that Haaron could have survived a fight with his largest, most violent son. No way that Jaeger would have shown him any mercy.
Not after what he’d done to Berard.
‘We need to head to Andala once we get Berard some help,’ Hanna said. ‘We all do. You won’t be safe in Saala for long.’
Karsten glanced at Nicolene who was trying to stop their two sons crawling over Berard as he lay shivering against the gunwale, wrapped in cloaks and furs. ‘Andala? You think we’ll be safe there? You think we’ll be safe anywhere? After what you’ve said about this prophecy?’ He lowered his voice. ‘Sounds to me as though no one will be safe while The Following has that book.’
‘We don’t know what has happened in Tuura,’ Hanna said. ‘But we can go to Andala and find out. They might know. We need to find Jael. She is the one the prophecy says will stop the Darkness from coming.’
Karsten snorted again. ‘Jael Furyck? Ha! You think she can stop Jaeger? Or this woman? Or The Following?’
Hanna winced as Berard roared in pain again. ‘I think we need to get as far away from The Following as we can. The best thing we can do is find Jael and my father. They will know what to do next.’
Isaura threw her arms around Thorgils’ neck in relief, stretching up on her tiptoes as he bent down to her. ‘You’re alright,’ she breathed. ‘You’re alright!’ Squeezing him tightly, she could feel his chest rising and falling against hers. It felt wet. Standing back, she looked him over and saw blood. ‘Are you alright?’
‘It’s Leada’s,’ Thorgils frowned. ‘She took an arrow in the neck. I’m going to check on her, then head up to the ramparts. Although, maybe I’ll just grab something to drink first.’ Glancing around, he saw Torstan and their sodden men gathered around a table, filling their cups, and he headed towards them.
‘Ivaar’s here, then?’ Isaura asked, hurrying alongside Thorgils, ignoring Mads who was calling out to her.
‘On the beach,’ Thorgils nodded, taking the cup Torstan offered him. He drank quickly, wiping a hand through his wet beard. ‘But we’ve got them pinned down. They won’t be going anywhere for a while.’
Isaura stood on her tiptoes again, pushing away Thorgils’ straggly, wet curls, searching for his ear. ‘What about Jael? Any sign of her?’ she whispered.
