The furyck saga the firs.., p.46
The Furyck Saga (The First Three Volumes), page 46
‘I have been trying to dream on that, but I don’t see anything at all,’ Eydis sighed. ‘He keeps asking me to see if the invasion of Hest is a good idea. But I can’t. I can’t see anything about it.’ She paused. ‘Maybe it’s because he dies before it happens? Maybe it never happens at all? Or maybe he dies in it? I don’t know. I don’t want to think on it at all really.’ Tears threatened her eyes again. ‘It makes me feel so helpless. So sad. I don’t want him to die. I don’t want to be alone.’
Jael’s eyes were full of sympathy as she glanced at Biddy. Biddy’s eyes were full of questions as she looked at Jael. But despite what Eydis had said, she still had no answers. Not yet.
Eadmund had waited out the storm in a ramshackle hut on the outskirts of the fort. It was an abandoned heap of sticks, ready to fall down, but Eadmund often took his chances there, just for a night or two. He knew Thorgils would have been looking for him and his shoulders were heavy with the guilt of that; his friend deserved better than a life spent chasing after him.
The rain had stopped, and the wind had retreated to just a whimper, but the ground was ice, hard for a mostly drunk man to navigate, especially in the near-dark. He tiptoed cautiously through the square, on the way to his cottage, sure that he had stored a few jugs of ale there. There was barely a hint of moon, though, and it was slow going; every few steps resulting in another heart-stopping slip.
Eadmund looked up as a hall door creaked open. One of the doors had always had a loud and distinctive squeal that nobody had been able to silence in all the years since Eirik had replaced them, no matter how much fish oil or sheep fat he had ordered rubbed onto its hinges. Eadmund smiled to himself; it was so familiar that he didn’t even notice it, except now when everything else around him was shrouded in bone-chilling silence.
He turned to see who was leaving the hall and froze. Despite the darkness, he could tell it was Jael. He couldn’t help but watch her, his white breath swirling around him as he stood there in the silence. Her head was down, and he was far enough away so that she wouldn’t see him, he was certain. He stayed still and watched, a wistful smile on his face, as she walked... straight into Tarak.
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‘Ahhh, my favourite Brekkan whore,’ Tarak boomed, loud enough for anyone to hear; if there had been anyone around. ‘Have you been plying your trade inside? Looking to tempt Ivaar again with your sagging tits and your dried up cunt?’
Jael frowned. She was in no mood to be clever with Tarak. She was far too confused for that; too confused to think clearly at all. ‘From what I know about you... Tarak,’ she spat coldly. ‘You’d be far more interested in tempting Ivaar than I ever would be.’
Tarak glared down at her, anger spiking in his pitch-black eyes.
Jael didn’t back away, nor try to move around him.
‘What do you think you know about me?’ he growled, leaning into her, his voice much quieter now.
‘About you?’ she asked with wide-eyed innocence. ‘Much more than you would wish Eirik to know, and certainly more than Ivaar would be happy to hear about, I’m sure.’ Jael was ready to go on but somehow managed to grab hold of her tongue, just before everything she had promised Fyn she wouldn’t say, tumbled out of her mouth.
Tarak peered at her closely. He needed to find out what she knew, or at least, he needed to shut her up before she said anything that would weaken his position with Ivaar, for Ivaar was going to become king, and Tarak was first in line to be his most valued advisor. ‘You should think hard on whether you have the balls to play this game, whore,’ he hissed through bared teeth. ‘Because between you and I, there will only ever be one winner. And it won’t be you.’ And reaching out, he shoved her in the stomach, as hard as he could. There was no traction, nothing for her boots to grip onto, and Jael flew through the air, landing on her back, her head slamming onto the hard ice with a loud crack.
Glancing around quickly, to check that no one was watching, Tarak laughed, and pulled open the hall door, disappearing inside.
Jael lay there on the ice, feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment. The pains in her back and her head were screaming but all she could feel at that moment was the shame of being knocked down so easily by that grinning turd. She sighed as she lay there, grimacing, as everything started throbbing, staring up at the starless night sky. And then she smiled as a few tiny flurries started drifting their way down towards her. Better to let Tarak think she was easy to defeat, she decided. There was plenty of time to take her revenge.
‘Do you need some help down there?’
Eadmund leaned over with a crooked smile and put out his hand. He blinked uncertainly into her eyes, wondering if she was alright.
‘I might,’ Jael croaked as she reached up and grasped onto him. She felt the friction in his touch as their eyes met. She groaned, loudly, as she stood, listening to the clicking and cracking in her back and hips as they protested the shock of the fall.
‘That doesn’t sound good,’ Eadmund winced in sympathy, his sour ale-breath warm on her face.
Jael hung her head for a moment and gritted her teeth. ‘I’m alright. At least it was dark, and there was nobody to see, apart from you that is,’ she frowned. ‘What are you doing here? I thought you’d be with Thorgils?’
‘Thorgils?’ Eadmund looked slightly bemused. ‘Is he looking for me again?’
‘You haven’t seen him today?’
‘No, I’ve been, ummm...’ Eadmund looked down at the ice, trying to locate any words that could explain his situation without making him appear as completely hopeless as he knew he was. There were none.
Jael grabbed hold of his drooping chin and lifted it up, ignoring the clanging in her ears. ‘Eadmund, why don’t you come back to the house. Biddy will have something cooking, I’m sure. You can rest there, and I’ll go and find Thorgils.’
Eadmund frowned, stepping away from her, his feet slipping slightly. ‘Why Thorgils? Why do I need to see him? I’m fine, just on my way home,’ he slurred. ‘Thought you needed some help, but you go, I’m fine. I don’t need Thorgils, or you.’
She stared at him, and he hated to see the pity that had filled her eyes; those eyes which were wide with something he couldn’t interpret at all. His shoulders sagged, and he felt desperately ashamed. He needed to get away, to be alone, to find that ale in his cottage.
‘Eadmund, wait!’ Jael called softly as he turned and started to leave, sliding about on the ice. ‘I can help you.’
‘I don’t need your help, Jael!’ he shouted crossly, not bothering to turn around. ‘I don’t need anyone’s help!’ and he disappeared into the darkness as the snowflakes thickened and danced through the bitter night air.
Jael stared after him, all thoughts of Tarak and revenge forgotten. All thoughts of Ivaar, and Brekka, and Aleksander were gone too. She turned and walked away, slowly and carefully.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ the old woman grumbled.
She couldn’t have been that old, Jael supposed, but she had so many lines buried into her face that it was hard to imagine she had ever been young at all. There was certainly nothing to admire about her now, but that was more because of her sour glare and turned-down lips, which were mean and miserly. Her hair was wrapped in a faded yellow scarf, her hands wedged firmly into ample hips. It was not much of a welcome, Jael decided.
‘What are you doing here?’ Thorgils head appeared over the top of his mother’s. Her head came up to just past his waist and was only half the size of his.
He must take after his father, Jael decided, trying not to grin or grimace. ‘I was hoping to speak to you,’ she said, raising an eyebrow, trying to convey the need for privacy as his mother peered on with an open mouth.
‘Mother, this is Jael –’ Thorgils began politely.
‘You think I don’t know who this is, boy?’ she hissed up to her son through a handful of brown-stained teeth. ‘My eyes work just fine, same as yours.’ She turned back to Jael. ‘I saw you beat her. I was there when you defeated this woman, here. I know who she is alright.’ She glared at Jael, her baggy eyes bulging with dislike.
‘I need to go, Mother,’ Thorgils said carefully as he disappeared to grab his cloak. ‘I’ll be back later.’
‘Later, when?’ Odda Svanter barked at her large, only child.
‘Later, when I return. If I do,’ he smiled, ducking through the door and kissing her lightly on the scarf. ‘But don’t worry about any food for me, I’ll have something in the hall, no doubt.’
Odda frowned at them both, and Jael turned away without saying another word. What a wretch of a woman, she thought. How had Thorgils managed to grow up with such a smile on his face?
They walked away from the long-reaching scowl, as it followed them from the doorway, without a word, both too busy concentrating on the slippery ground than the need to smooth everything over right away.
‘You have saved me from another evening with my mother, and for that, I am in your debt,’ Thorgils winked at Jael with a flash of his old humour. He’d seen something in her eyes when she’d come to his doorway, as though she’d returned from that dark place. He hoped he was right.
‘We cannot tell Branwyn,’ Edela insisted firmly as they walked away from Alaric’s cottage.
‘No, I agree,’ Aleksander said solemnly. ‘That would be hard for any parent to hear. That their child was killed accidentally? Mistaken for someone else?’ He shook his head, still in shock.
It was dark now and the cold bit at their legs as they walked. Despite the plummeting temperature, neither were in a hurry to return to Branwyn and Kormac’s house; there was much to discuss.
‘Evva was so gentle, so innocent,’ Edela said sadly, tears threatening her eyes again. ‘They murdered her because they thought she was Jael. But who were they? Where did they come from?’ She shuddered. ‘I wish Alaric had known more, but I’m certain he told us all he could.’ She gripped Aleksander firmly as they came upon a crowd bustling outside a meat vendor. The smell of cooking meat called to her empty stomach, and it rumbled back in return. They had been at Alaric’s a long time, and he hadn’t offered them anything other than that insipid ale-water. Poor man, she thought sadly.
Aleksander rolled things around inside his head. ‘If those people thought they had killed Jael, how long do you think it took them to realise that she was still alive? And did they try again?’
‘I don’t know. It would make sense for them to try again, though, wouldn’t it? But I suppose getting into Andala was a lot harder than coming into Tuura that night. There were barely any fortifications back then. Not like now.’
‘Do you think that’s why Ranuf started training Jael as soon as we were home? That one of the elders did tell him about what had happened?’ Aleksander wondered.
‘Possibly, but what we really need to find out is who those people were. What sort of people kill a 10-year-old girl because they fear what she will become? What does the prophecy say Jael will do?’
‘Well, I don’t imagine your elder friend will be telling you that in a hurry, will she?’ Aleksander smiled as they came to a stop outside the house.
‘No,’ Edela murmured. ‘But we know a lot more than we did, and that’s something. So, now we just have to sleep on it, and hopefully, I can dream on it. And tomorrow, perhaps we can think up a list of possible enemies. If we can do that, it might take us even closer to the answers we need.’
Aleksander nodded and opened the door, ushering Edela inside, wondering as he did, just who had led those raiders to Tuura that night? Who had let them in? He shook his head, tired of there being so many unanswered questions swimming about in there.
Thorgils stopped and turned around, surprised. ‘You’re not coming?’ The snow was heavy in his beard, and he shook it out, peering at Jael questioningly.
Jael didn’t move. ‘I think it’s better that you do it. You go. On your own.’ She had stopped, not far from Eadmund’s cottage, uncertainty flaring again.
Thorgils frowned and walked back to her. ‘Jael, I don’t think it’s going to work without you.’
‘Why do you say that?’ she said uncomfortably. ‘It’s a tincture. Anyone could pour it into his mouth.’
‘I don’t think that’s the point of it, do you?’ he said softly. ‘Your grandmother made this for you to give him. Not me, but you, when you were ready to do it. Do you really think it will work if I give it to him?’
Jael had a mouthful of words ready, reasons why she didn’t need to go with him, but instead, she just opened and closed her lips and stared at Thorgils blankly, her insides turning over and over.
Thorgils smiled kindly at her, sensing her unease. ‘You came and got me for a reason, Jael. You want to help him. Don’t run away now.’ He stared into her eyes. Despite the thickness of the snow, he could see the panic as it flitted across her face.
Eadmund had quickly swallowed the contents of the two jugs of ale he’d found in his cottage. His head was throbbing, and he felt a little sick, but despite that, he was wondering how he was going to get some more, and quickly. He yawned as he sat on the edge of his bed, convincing himself of the need to stand up, but not sure if his legs still worked. His stomach rumbled, but he didn’t care for food. He was thirsty, though, he realised, and ale wasn’t about to come to him, so if he wanted more, and he definitely wanted more, he would have to go and find some himself; hopefully without being seen by his father, or Ivaar, or Jael, or Thorgils. Even Isaura, he grimaced, guiltily. He tried to blink away the memory of her pitying face.
It was completely dark in the cottage. The fire he had hastily put together had not taken and was now just a pile of scorched logs. He’d not been able to find lamps or candles and had given up on the idea of light or warmth altogether. He just wanted ale.
His mind wandered back to the bed at Jael’s house. His whole body sighed with longing, but he didn’t think he’d be welcome there anymore, not when Jael had become so friendly with Ivaar. He remembered her face when she was with Ivaar. Ivaar’s too. There was definitely something there, and he wanted no part of it; he was done with Ivaar’s games.
Eadmund shook his head, driven to stand by his overwhelming desire for another drink. He would take the risk, gather his supplies and come back to his cottage and drink all thoughts of Ivaar and Jael away. He stumbled towards the door, wrapping himself in his fur cloak, already missing the warmth of his lonely bed.
The door shot open, knocking into him. He lost his already unstable footing and fell over backwards, his head hitting the floorboards with a loud crack.
‘Eadmund!’ Thorgils rushed over to his prone friend, horrified. ‘Are you alright?’
Jael laughed awkwardly as she closed the door behind them. ‘What were you doing standing behind the door?’
Eadmund groaned as Thorgils tried to help him to his feet. He was mostly dead weight, and despite his size, Thorgils could barely raise him. Jael stepped in to help and between the two of them, they managed to get Eadmund up; his head wobbling about, his eyes opening and closing, as he moved in and out of consciousness. The stench of his breath had them both squinting.
‘How were you even standing on your own?’ Thorgils wondered.
The room was dark, but Jael could just see Eadmund’s bleary eyes trying to focus on her. He looked confused, a little cross, and thoroughly drunk. She sighed, wondering at their chances of success. This tincture would surely have to be magic if they were to have any hope.
‘Come on, come sit on the bed,’ Thorgils said kindly as he helped Eadmund down onto his pile of furs. ‘I’ll go and sort that fire out. We need some light in here.’ He watched as Eadmund swayed unsteadily about on the bed, then glanced at Jael, who was standing there, watching, obviously still doubting her decision to come. ‘Perhaps you can go and hold him up? I need to get the wood.’
Jael sighed and sat down next to her unstable husband, grabbing his arm to steady him; he flinched.
‘Why are you here?’ he slurred angrily, his head bobbing towards her face. ‘Is Ivaar busy?’
Jael let go of his arm and pushed him backwards. He tipped over easily and just lay there, without another word. ‘Perhaps it’s best if you have a little sleep now,’ she murmured.
Thorgils walked back into the cottage with an armful of snow-covered logs and saw Eadmund lying with his eyes closed and Jael sitting by the fire. He raised an eyebrow. ‘Your soothing voice put him to sleep, no doubt?’
‘Something like that,’ she smiled as she grabbed a log from him and placed it into the fire.
Thorgils added some twigs and tinder, and together they resurrected the flames. Eadmund’s cottage was frigid, and they had plans to be there for a long time. They had to make it habitable, or they’d all freeze tonight.
Isaura lay still, her heart thudding anxiously in her chest as she listened to Ivaar’s steady breathing. He had barely wanted to touch her since their arrival on Oss; it had been both a surprise and a wonderful relief. No doubt he had found some servant girl to molest. Oh, how glad she was for the number of servants there were in the fort; so much more than on Kalfa. And then there was Jael; perhaps she was the reason Ivaar seemed so distracted, so uninterested in her anymore? Isaura had assumed he was merely playing with her for the sake of torturing Eadmund, but perhaps there was more to it than that? She could certainly see the appeal of Jael to a man like Ivaar. Not so much for a man like Eadmund, or at least the Eadmund she had known. This version looked nothing like the man she remembered. She’d never seen such a damaged, broken creature. He appeared to be trapped in the past, never escaping his heartbreak. She knew how he felt.
