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

  MARK OF THE HUNTER

  The Lords of Alekka : Book Two

  A.E. Rayne

  The Furyck Saga

  Kings of Fate: A Furyck Saga Prequel Novella

  The Lords of Alekka

  Eye of the Wolf: The Lords of Alekka Book 1

  Mark of the Hunter: The Lords of Alekka Book 2

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  SIGNUP

  Contents

  The Characters

  Map

  Prologue

  I. The Forest

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  II. Hunted

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  III. Prisoners

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  IV. Slussfall

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  V. Judgement

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Epilogue

  What to read next

  Sign up

  Some things about me, the author

  The Characters

  In the Forest

  Alys de Sant, 28, (pronounced Alice)

  Stina Arnborg, 38, Alys’ best friend

  Eddeth Nagel, 57, healer

  Lotta de Sant, 8, Alys’ daughter

  Ulrick Dyre, 53, Hakon’s scout

  In Ottby

  Lord Reinar Vilander, 32, (pronounced Ray-nar)

  Sigurd Vilander, 29, his brother

  Stellan Vilander, 63, their father

  Gerda Vilander, 57, their mother

  King Ake Bluefinn, 57, (pronounced Ak-ee)

  Algeir Tarkel, 48, head of Stornas’ garrison

  Agnette Sansgard, 29, Reinar and Sigurd’s cousin

  Bjarni Sansgard, Agnette’s husband/Reinar’s best friend

  Ludo Moller, 25, fostered to the Vilanders/Sigurd’s best friend

  Berger Eivin, 31, warrior

  Ilene Gislar, 25, the husband thief

  Bolli Ollsfar, 65, helmsman

  Holgar Agmund, 62, helmsman

  Torfinn Bellig, 28, Sigurd’s and Ludo’s friend

  Rilda, the cook

  Martyn, Stellan’s steward

  Rienne and Matti, Gerda’s servants

  Escaping Ottby

  Lord Hakon Vettel, 23 (pronounced Hay-kon)

  Ivan Vettel, 23, Hakon’s cousin

  Lief Gundersen, 44, Falla’s husband/Hakon’s champion

  Falla Gundersen, 34, Lief’s wife

  Rikkard Varnass, 17, Hakon’s steward

  Jerrick and Njall, Hakon’s men

  Lord Erlan Stari, 27, formerly of Hovring

  Lord Alef Olstein, 31, formerly of Vika

  In Slussfall

  Jonas Bergstrom, 69, Alys’ grandfather

  Vik Lofgren, 59, Jonas’ best friend

  Magnus de Sant, 10, Alys’ son

  Karolina Vettel, 22, Hakon’s wife

  Bergit Dyre, 46, Ulrick’s wife

  Leonid Grubert, 19, silversmith

  Ollo Narp, 55, master of the square

  Haegel Hedvik, 51, Ollo’s loyal off-sider

  Baldur Skoggi, 50, head of the garrison

  Aldo Varnass, 15, kitchen helper

  Anders Vettel, infant, Hakon & Karolina’s son

  Borg Arnesson, 2, Falla’s son with her second husband

  Prologue

  ‘And you won’t raise her? Bring her back?’

  They stood in the tent, eyes on the frozen body of the dead dreamer.

  ‘You think I should reward failure?’ Alari spat, turning to her sister, Vasa, who towered over her like a tall tree. ‘She’s dead for a reason.’

  ‘She’s dead because of Valera!’ Vasa was angry. ‘That bitch is always interfering, and now the Vettels are running away like frightened children from a fight they were destined to win. A dead dreamer can’t help them or us!’

  ‘You think I had just the one dreamer, Sister?’ Alari laughed. ‘That the Goddess of Magic had only one old woman to assist her?’ She was just as angry as Vasa, but her fury smouldered like embers. ‘Though after what happened, why should I trust any of them to do what needs to be done? We must fight against Thenor himself now. Thenor and his pet dog, Ake Bluefinn.’ She turned, slipping out of the tent, black cloak sweeping behind her, long white braid hanging down her back. Alari had been beautiful in her youth, until her father, Thenor, had punished her insolence, taking her right eye, hoping to dilute her power. Though the loss of her eye had done nothing to diminish Alari’s anger, nor her desire for vengeance.

  Vasa followed her sister, an angular, gaunt figure with sunken eyes and skin as dark as the depths of her famous cave. She had no hair, just a shining ebony head. Her cloak was made of raven’s wings, and it shimmered darkly as she walked.

  The sisters emerged into the abandoned campsite, littered with snow-covered corpses, weapons, supplies; all of it abandoned in the Vettel army’s retreat.

  ‘We must fight against Thenor,’ Vasa agreed, stroking one the two ravens that perched on her shoulders, both of them cawing loudly, seeking her attention. ‘So it is time to choose whether to keep seeking victory here or abandon the field altogether.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘There are other contenders, Sister. Others who may stand a far greater chance of taking Stornas, of claiming Alekka.’

  Alari’s eye sparked with indignation. ‘You think I would abandon the Vettels? But they are my blood! I gave birth to their line. They may choose to claim Thenor if it makes them feel like mighty warriors, but I know the truth, and so does he. I cannot abandon that which is mine. I won’t.’

  Vasa was bored. Impatient to leave the revolting place.

  It reeked of failure.

  ‘No, we have a clear path ahead of us now.’ Alari could see it in her mind; dark with night, shot with moonbeams. ‘A path back to power, here, in the South. And once the Vettels rule in Stornas again, there’ll be nothing to stand in my way.’ She felt Vasa stiffen. ‘Our way.’ And smiling now, she headed for their horses, one white, one black, both of them shadow spirits. ‘Mother Arnesson was a greedy, self-centred witch. I should never have relied on her to do what I’m perfectly capable of doing myself.’

  Vasa smiled, knowing exactly what Alari was capable of. ‘Well, then, Sister, let us begin.’

  I

  The Forest

  1

  Some things were undeniable.

  Th
e feel of Reinar’s lips.

  The look in his eyes as he bent his head, leaning in close, his cold hand brushing hair away from her face...

  Alys rolled over, sensing movement, but not wanting to let go of her dream.

  It wasn’t the dream she needed to be having. It didn’t tell her where her grandfather was. It didn’t show her how to find Magnus and Lotta. It wasn’t a dream that warned of danger lurking.

  It was a dream of longing.

  Pointless, hopeless, soul-crushing longing.

  Eddeth sneezed, and Alys opened her eyes, blinking, clouds of breath smoke hovering above her face. She stared up at the trees, gnarled branches fighting each other in the chill breeze. The ground was thick with snow, wet, soaking into her back.

  She hadn’t felt her toes since they’d left Ottby two days ago.

  Stina was talking to Eddeth as they wrapped bed furs around their shoulders and set about organising breakfast. The horses shuffled around, nickering softly in the distance, looking for something to eat, and soon they would be on the road again, trying to find Jonas and the children.

  Alys closed her eyes, seeing Reinar’s face, feeling his lips pressing against hers, then stopping, lingering, waiting.

  Why hadn’t she kissed him back?

  Eddeth shook her shoulder. ‘Are you unwell, Alys? Is something wrong? You have a very odd look on your face. Could be that stew. My belly’s been griping all night long. Oh, the smell! Reminded me of my second husband. I had to make him sleep outside many a night, snow or not!’

  Alys opened her eyes, surprised once again, to find Eddeth leaning over her, noses almost touching. ‘I...’ She edged away, wanting to get up, out of the snow. Stina had worked quickly to bring their fire back to life, and Alys could hear the flames crackling invitingly nearby. ‘No, I feel fine.’

  Eddeth continued to peer at her, picking her wart as Alys slid away, wrapping her frosty fur around her shoulders, heading for the fire. ‘Fine?’ she muttered. ‘I don’t think so, dreamer.’ Alys was too far away to hear her, Eddeth was sure, but in the next breath, she spun around, staring at her, a sad look in her eyes.

  And after holding Eddeth’s gaze for a moment, Alys turned away.

  Reinar sat on the bed, ready to head outside. There was so much to do, so much waiting for him beyond his chamber door. He could hear the murmur of activity in the hall growing louder, knowing that his mother was likely rushing around, fussing over Ake, struggling without Agnette.

  Sighing, he stared down at the scrap of vellum in his hand.

  Alys had left it for him, with the green dress.

  He’d slept with it for two nights, slipped under his pillow, trying to decide what to do. But what could he do? The fort was broken, devastated by Hakon Vettel’s attack. The king was still in Ottby, making plans for what would come next. More pyres needed to be built. His brother was still missing, grieving Tulia.

  What could he do?

  ‘Reinar?’

  Agnette popped her head around the door, smiling.

  He was surprised to see her, but pleased, for she carried her newborn daughter in her arms. Liara. A pretty name for a squawking baby, he thought with a sigh. ‘I’m coming. Just needed a moment.’

  Agnette sat down beside him, wincing, still uncomfortable after Liara’s birth, which had been both terrifying and draining. ‘Gerda’s already high-pitched out there.’ She leaned the baby towards her cousin. ‘This one doesn’t seem to mind it, though.’

  Reinar peered at the baby, her eyes closed, lying so peacefully in Agnette’s arms. He tried not to think of his own sons, though it was impossible not to. Looking away, he rubbed his eyes. ‘Well, I expect she’ll only get worse. It’s still early.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Agnette wondered, inclining her head to the vellum.

  ‘Alys...’ It felt strange to say her name out loud. ‘Alys left it.’ And opening up the note, Reinar showed Agnette.

  ‘Oh.’ She stared at her cousin, seeing the pain in his tired eyes. ‘What will you do?’

  Reinar turned to her. ‘What should I do?’ He looked back down at the vellum, which read: Reinar, I dreamed of your wife. She is alive and well in Lundvik.

  Agnette sensed that her daughter was growing restless. Liara’s little face had turned from pink to red, her forehead furrowed as she started wriggling, trying to escape her swaddling cloths. ‘You have a lot to do here. I’m not sure you can leave Ottby. Not now. And there’s Sigurd. We need to know if he’s alright.’ She shook her head, tears in her eyes. ‘Poor Sigurd, of course he’s not alright. He loved Tulia. I know he loved her, no matter how many problems they had.’

  Reinar nodded.

  ‘And Ake wants the fort repaired, and he has plans for Hovring and Vika, that’s what Bjarni said. He won’t stomach their treachery for long.’

  Reinar nodded.

  ‘Not to mention Hakon Vettel. He’s still out there somewhere, isn’t he? So, I don’t know what to advise. Elin wasn’t right before she left. Though in truth, I don’t think she was right for a long time.’ Agnette’s voice faded away, knowing Reinar didn’t like to hear that sort of talk about his wife.

  ‘I need to tell her about Torvig.’

  Agnette could see it in his eyes: that desperation to know the truth; to hear from Elin herself why she’d left him. He would never be able to move on until he heard it from her lips. And feeling decisive, Agnette stood. ‘You should go, then. Go to Lundvik. Ake will be gone tomorrow. Leave Bjarni in charge of the fort, and go. Find Elin. Talk to her. Tell her about her brother. Things will be clearer for you then.’

  Liara burst into tears, mouth open, and Agnette lifted her up to her shoulder, kissing her head. ‘I think someone’s hungry. Someone besides Bjarni!’ She grinned at her cousin. ‘You’ll know what to do, Reinar. When you see Elin, you’ll know what to do.’

  Reinar watched her go, eyes drifting to the green dress, still draped over the end of the bed. He reached out a hand, touching it, knowing he should pack it away.

  Elin’s dress.

  But when he saw it now, he no longer thought of Elin.

  ‘Did you hear those wolves last night?’ Eddeth called from the trees. She was on her hands and knees, collecting mushrooms.

  Stina was packing her saddlebags. ‘Wolves?’ Her eyes darted to Alys, who shrugged as she wrapped Tulia’s swordbelt around the waist of her faded green dress. ‘I didn’t hear any wolves, Eddeth. Perhaps you were having a dream?’ Though she was quickly scanning the forest, ears open. She could hear the soothing babble of the mist-touched stream, the industrious chirping of the birds out searching for breakfast.

  No wolves.

  ‘Or perhaps it was that old dreamer you killed, wanting her revenge?’ Eddeth emerged from behind a tree, carrying a mound of mushrooms in the hem of her tunic. She wiped a dirty hand down her dead husband’s trousers, grinning.

  ‘Do you think that’s possible?’ Alys wondered, feeding Eddeth’s horse, Wilf, a half-frozen carrot. He was an old muddy-brown stallion, small in stature and flighty in temperament, though always in a much calmer state when he was well fed. There wasn’t much for the horses to eat in their snow-blanketed campsite, and she wanted to give them all a little energy for the day. They had brought along small sacks of barley and oats to supplement what the horses could dig up themselves, though if Wilf had his way, it wouldn’t last long.

  ‘Oh yes, evil spirits are always lurking in the shadows, especially in the dark depths of the forest!’ Eddeth announced gleefully, pleased to see that the water was boiling in the tiny cauldron she’d brought along. Depositing her mushrooms onto the ground, she set about organising cups. ‘Who knows what we might meet on our travels? Or who!’

  ‘Who?’ Alys joined her by the fire, crouching down, warming her hands over the flames.

  ‘Well, after what you did in Ottby? Killing the old bat like that? With Valera’s help? I imagine the gods are watching. Following us, even. Valera knew you!’ Using the cloth tuck
ed into her trousers, Eddeth lifted the cauldron off its hook, pouring boiling water into three wooden cups. ‘She was waiting for you to come to her, that’s what she said, so those gods are certainly watching us now, waiting to see what will happen next! Or perhaps, not waiting at all...’

  Stina’s eyes were heavy. The night had been cold, and her dreams had tortured her. She couldn’t escape the nightmares of Torvig and Tulia and what had happened in the shed. The relief of knowing that Torvig was dead could not erase the pain of what he had done to her. It was a wound that burned and stung, and Stina knew that no salve or tea would give her any relief.

  There was no cure, but time.

  ‘Don’t drink yet!’ Eddeth warned, handing Stina a cup of licorice and lavender tea. ‘But do inhale! The aroma is powerful. Oh yes, just smell those ancient herbs! They will calm your mind and soothe your ragged spirit!’