by A. E. Rayne
‘Is there nothing we can do?’ Axl asked desperately as Entorp stood, stretching his back and moving away so that Aleksander and Jael could sit by Edela. ‘Nothing that you know of? Or you, Biddy?’
‘Well, there is one idea,’ Entorp mumbled into his chest. ‘It’s something I’ve only seen done once. And that was with an experienced dreamer. We don’t have one of those, unfortunately.’
‘We don’t have a dreamer at all,’ Axl sighed hopelessly, walking over to his grandmother. ‘Not one who can help us.’
‘We have Jael,’ Biddy said softly.
Everyone turned to Jael, who frowned at Biddy.
‘Jael?’ Gisila looked confused. ‘She’s not a dreamer.’
‘Jael dreamed of this,’ Aleksander reminded her. ‘She dreamed of Ranuf’s death too.’
‘But that is not the same as being a dreamer, surely?’ Axl wondered as he clasped Edela’s limp hand, willing her to wake up.
‘You need to spend years at the temple to become a true dreamer,’ Gisila added. ‘To be trained by the elders.’
‘But what choice do we have?’ Aleksander insisted. ‘We must do anything we can to help Edela. There is no time to wait!’
They grumbled amongst themselves, arguing over Jael’s lack of experience.
‘What would I have to do?’ Jael asked Entorp, silencing them all.
‘You cannot sleep in the stables!’ Berard laughed, making Meena jump. ‘You’re not a horse!’
Meena didn’t know what to make of Berard Dragos. He kept following her around like a friendly dog. She felt embarrassed and uncomfortable around him; half of her wishing that he would go away, half of her grateful for his concern. She had crept away from Jaeger as he slept, quickly uncomfortable in his bed, eager to find somewhere to be alone so that she might think. ‘I will not go back to that chamber. With Morana?’ She shuddered. ‘And there is... nowhere else.’
They were walking towards the stables as the sky turned a deep blue above them. The temperature had cooled, but it was still warm enough for neither to need a cloak. But the night would turn things colder yet, and Berard was certain that Meena would not be so enamoured with the breezy stables then. ‘We have so many chambers in the castle. Most of them are empty. I will have a servant prepare you one tomorrow.’
Meena stopped and turned to Berard, tapping her head. ‘Why would you d-d-d-do that?’ she asked. ‘Why do you care if I stay here at all? I am nothing without my grandmother. I may as well be a slave!’
Berard sighed, pulling Meena to one side as the blacksmith and his apprentices walked past, having locked up the smithy for the night. ‘But you could be,’ Berard insisted. ‘You could work in the kitchens, or for my mother or sisters-in-law? You could help with the children? Or you could be your aunt’s assistant? It is what you know how to do after all.’
Meena shook her head violently, her whole body quivering in terror. ‘I could never. Never! She’s a witch!’
Berard frowned, not prepared to let Meena just disappear. In the days since the disaster in the square, his entire family had shunned him, making him eager to forge a friendship with the one person who seemed as much of an outcast as he was. ‘Well, what about me then? I have no servant, no one to care for my things as Jaeger does. Haegen and Karsten have handfuls of slaves and servants looking after their every need. Perhaps it’s time that I had someone too?’
Meena’s eyes rolled down to the cobblestones. It was the most appealing idea that he had proposed but still... what would Jaeger say?
‘There are a few empty chambers next to mine,’ Berard went on, gently ushering Meena back towards the castle. ‘Mostly small, but nearby. There will be much to do as my chamber is in a terrible mess and I never remember to set a fire or send my clothes to be washed. I’m afraid you’ll be quite busy.’ He smiled, watching as Meena’s shoulders eased away from her ears, her eyes lifting towards him now. ‘I shall pay you, of course. Provide you with meals too.’
‘But, but your brother...’
‘My brother?’ Berard looked confused, then slightly annoyed. He had seen the way Jaeger leered at Meena, as though she was a possession; something he desired to own. Frowning, he pushed back his curved shoulders and lifted his chin. ‘This would be no concern of my brother’s, Meena. What we choose to do is no business of his at all!’
Morac looked from Thorgils to Fyn and back again. ‘Has our new queen sent you for the baby now? Does she plan to throw him out into the freezing rain too?’ he growled, leaving them standing in the doorway, despite the deluge of foul weather drenching them both.
‘Evaine has been accused of a crime, Morac,’ Thorgils began calmly as Runa ran to the door, pushing past her husband and scooping Fyn into her arms. ‘And she will be judged fairly, as is our way, but for now, she is the queen’s prisoner.’
Morac scowled at his wife’s weeping as she looked Fyn over and hugged him again. ‘But not for long,’ he said sharply, his long nose in the air. ‘Eadmund will return soon, won’t he?’
Thorgils took a deep breath. He was not looking forward to that. ‘He will. And he will support his wife’s actions, I’m sure,’ he said firmly, clenching his teeth to remove the hesitation in his words.
Morac laughed. ‘I only hope for your sake that he doesn’t view your part in proceedings too harshly. It’s hard to remain friends with a man whose loyalty you cannot trust.’
Thorgils frowned irritably and turned to Runa. ‘Fyn will be staying with me until things... resolve. You’ll find him there. But for now, we must go and speak to Sevrin. And check on Evaine.’
Morac looked anxious. ‘Here,’ he said, pulling his cloak off its peg. ‘Take this to her. I will come again later with another. Tell her that she will not have to endure this much longer. Eadmund will be home soon. Tell her that everything will be different then.’
Thorgils took the cloak, uncomfortable with the whole situation, but most of all at that moment, uncomfortable with Morac’s certainty that Evaine was the injured party. ‘I remember passing you in the alley that day, Morac,’ he said quietly, his voice low and firm. ‘Perhaps Jael is wrong, and it’s not Evaine who did this? Maybe she’s punishing the wrong Gallas?’
Morac baulked, stepping back, suddenly aware of how precarious their situation was without Eadmund to protect them. ‘I... I did see you in the alley, yes. I saw many others too. Why not chain us all to the Wailing Post if that is your wish?’ he challenged boldly. ‘Not the sort of kingdom that Eirik imagined Oss becoming without him, I’m sure.’
‘Come on, Fyn,’ Thorgils grumbled, glaring at Morac. ‘We shall leave your father to his nice house and his warm fire. Both of which he got off the back of Eirik Skalleson. Before he then abandoned him. Loyalty... it’s hard to come by these days, wouldn’t you say?’ And with one final, sneering look at Morac, he pulled Fyn away into the pouring rain.
Jael glanced at the door, stroking Vella, who had relaxed into a warm, furry lump over her knee as she sat before the fire.
‘Entorp won’t be much longer,’ Biddy smiled wearily from Eadmund’s chair. She had a cup of passionflower tea in her hands, trying to calm her nerves. Edela had weakened even further. Her breathing was laboured now, and Biddy couldn’t stop looking at her chest every few heartbeats to ensure that she was still with them. ‘He just had to find the last things we need. We have most of them left from last time but never enough mugwort!’
Gisila sat next to Edela, with Axl and Amma perched nearby on stools. Aleksander paced around them all, too anxious to sit still.
‘You’ve seen this dream walking then?’ Gisila asked Biddy.
‘Yes, once,’ Biddy said. ‘When Edela went to warn Jael. It worked, didn’t it?’
Jael nodded. ‘She told me about Morana. How she was in Hest.’ She frowned, remembering her encounter with the strange woman, whose black eyes had been so desperate to claim her.
Evaine’s mother. Morana Gallas.
She thought of Evaine, chained to th
e post in the square. Morana was not an enemy to be trifled with, but whether she actually cared for her daughter was another matter altogether.
‘And the book,’ Biddy added.
‘The Book of Darkness?’ Jael looked confused, shaking her head. ‘Edela didn’t say anything about the book.’
‘No,’ Biddy remembered. ‘She said that you disappeared before she could warn you.’
‘About the book?’
‘Jaeger Dragos has it.’
Jael’s mouth dropped open.
‘It’s been found?’ Aleksander stopped moving and stared at Jael.
‘By Jaeger Dragos?’
Amma shuddered at the sound of that name, shrinking away from the memories that came surging back: of his hands, his voice, the smell of his breath...
The pain.
Axl reached out and clasped her hand.
The fire was suddenly loud, rain splashing onto the flames as they hissed and cracked in protest.
The book. Jaeger had the Book of Darkness.
Jael did not have the room inside her head to think of the ramifications of that. Not yet, not without Edela to help them understand what to do.
‘Berard?’ Jaeger was surprised to see his brother wandering down the corridor, and even more surprised to see Meena appear from behind him. She had been in his bed when he’d fallen asleep, but he hadn’t given a thought to where she had disappeared to. He cocked his head to one side. ‘You’re not going down to the hall for supper?’ He stared at Meena, who blushed immediately and hid beneath her hair.
Berard was at once both nervous and annoyed. He didn’t want Jaeger staring at Meena at all. ‘I’m going to show Meena around my chamber. I’ll probably miss supper tonight as we have much to discuss.’
Jaeger’s injured ankle gave way, and he wobbled, reaching out for the wall. ‘Your chamber?’ His amber eyes sharpened, not leaving Meena’s face.
‘Meena is my servant now. She will care for my chamber, my clothes, my meals.’
Jaeger’s eyebrows rose, irritated by his brother’s attitude. ‘Your servant?’
‘Yes, with Varna gone, Meena needs a new purpose here, and you’ve been telling me to employ a servant for years. So, it couldn’t have worked out better.’ Berard turned and pulled Meena’s hand down from her head. ‘Come along, Meena.’
Jaeger watched as Berard and Meena scurried away together. He was incensed. Why had Berard made this sudden move towards her? He had always liked to care for helpless things, Jaeger knew. But Meena? Meena was not some motherless animal. She was not his to care for.
Not her.
He watched them turn at the end of the corridor, heading towards Berard’s chamber. His stomach rumbled loudly, but he suddenly had no appetite at all.
Entorp read aloud from the book, squinting to make out the words by the flames.
Jael repeated them back to him. The Tuuran phrases felt unfamiliar as she twisted them around her tongue. She tried to focus her mind as she knelt before the fire, clearing away all distractions: her tired and grainy eyes, the discomfort in her leg, the sudden ache in the arm Tarak had broken.
Evaine.
Finally, she closed her eyes as Entorp went silent, keeping the words in her mind, repeating them over and over in a rhythmic pattern.
Everyone else was sitting on stools by Edela’s bed, except for Entorp who knelt on the floor near Jael, the drum leaning against his leg.
Jael opened her eyes and took a deep breath, readying herself. She glanced at the small circle that Entorp had painted around her in blood. Stones joined the dark-red lines to each other; a Tuuran symbol painted onto each one, turned up, illuminated by the flames.
Jael was plagued by doubts as she stared at Entorp’s calm face. She was not afraid of the dream walk but she was afraid that she was not a dreamer at all; that she would not be able to do anything to help and that, ultimately, it was pointless to even try. ‘Are you sure we shouldn’t wait for Eydis?’
Entorp shook his bushy mop of orange hair. ‘Eydis is too young for such a load. It requires immense focus and strength of mind to enter a trance. To be able to hold it and dig deep inside a dream. To lose yourself and drift away while remaining tethered here.’ He handed Jael the bundle of herbs he had gathered. ‘If anyone is going to be strong enough, it will be you.’ He could sense Jael’s uncertainty, and he sought to quickly reassure her. ‘Edela believed in you. She was convinced that you were a dreamer. And the dreamers in the temple said that Edela must save you. But perhaps they saw it the wrong way around? Perhaps it is you who must save her?’
Jael glanced at Aleksander, who smiled encouragingly at her from his stool. She wished that Eadmund were here, then thought of Evaine wailing in the rain, and was glad he wasn’t.
‘Just start chanting, and once you throw the herbs onto the fire, close your eyes and inhale the smoke. Deeply. Take it right down into your lungs. Slow, slow breathing. And think of Edela. She is dreaming. She is alive. Think of her waiting for you to come, just as she came to you. Imagine yourself finding her, how that would feel. To be able to see her, talk to her again.’
‘And if I do? How can I possibly save her? In a dream? It’s not real.’
Entorp swallowed, wondering the exact same thing. ‘Sometimes we need a reminder of what holds us here in this world. What is important. Edela is strong. Like you. She would never leave you without a fight. You must remind her to fight. Remind her that you need her, that she is supposed to save you. Her body will respond to her mind. So, you must get into her mind.’
Jael took a deep breath, adjusting her position.
‘Here,’ Biddy murmured, handing her a cup of water. ‘You may need this.’ She smiled, then retreated into the dark shadows of the room to join everyone else.
The only light came from the subtle glow of the fire.
Jael could hear the rain, lighter now, falling on the roof.
She felt the different types of herbs in her hands: some damp, others dry. They were fragrant, almost familiar, and she inhaled slowly, trying to calm her racing heart. With one last glance at Entorp, who had started thumping on his drum, she threw the herbs onto the flames and closed her eyes, searching for her grandmother’s face in the darkness.
‘At least she’s quiet now,’ Sevrin sighed, pushing away his empty cup and groaning as he stretched out his legs.
‘Well, after all that whining and moaning, I expect she’s lost her voice,’ Thorgils muttered, not feeling good at all.
About anything.
Fyn looked from one to the other and said nothing.
Sevrin leaned forward. ‘And do you think she did it then? A little girl like that? Tried to kill a dreamer?’ He glanced behind himself. They were at the high table, and he could see servants bringing food out of the kitchen, but there were not many in the hall tonight, and no one was even looking their way. ‘Doesn’t make any sense to me.’
‘I don’t think it needs to, you not being the queen,’ Thorgils suggested, draining his cup and wiping a hand over his damp beard.
‘Jael’s a dreamer,’ Fyn said quietly.
Sevrin blinked.
‘She saw what happened to Edela,’ Fyn went on. ‘She sees things. If she thinks that Evaine did it, we should believe her.’
‘A dreamer?’ Thorgils was surprised by that news. ‘A warrior dreamer?’
Fyn nodded earnestly.
‘Well, it seems that I missed out on a lot not going to Hest. Like, for instance, why is her family here? And where are Lothar and his weaselly son?’ Sevrin lowered his voice, refilling Fyn’s cup. ‘Perhaps you should tell us what happened?’
Fyn gulped, still seeing Gisila’s back, covered in cuts from Lothar’s belt; remembering the moment when Axl had taken off Lothar’s head with one swing of his sword. He had not imagined that something like that could be done so easily. So cleanly. Axl looked no stronger than him, but something had snapped, and he had reacted on pure instinct.
It had been the right
thing to do, Fyn was sure.
Just as it was the right thing to keep Evaine out there, shackled in the rain.
Fyn knew that not everyone would agree, but he trusted Jael. Jael had saved him. He just hoped that she could save her grandmother in time or there would be nothing to stop her from cutting Evaine’s throat, no matter what Eadmund thought.
Jael’s eyes flickered open. Her head felt foggy, her tongue thick and huge inside her mouth. She took a sip of water, desperate to swallow.
‘Try again,’ Entorp urged gently.
His voice sounded so far away. The beat of his drumming rolled over her like crashing waves, her body rolling with it. Jael blinked away from him, back to the flames. Blurred ribbons of yellow and orange entwined around each other, Entorp’s voice echoing in her head.
‘Try again.’
Jael closed her eyes and inhaled the fragrant smoke, every part of her tingling in the darkness. She started chanting, stumbling over the words, tasting them in her mouth, dry and burned by the harsh smoke; losing track of them, muddling them, forgetting them, thinking only of Edela.
She needed to see Edela.
Edela...
‘Well, this is a surprise. A gift! A treat beyond my wildest dreams. Jael Furyck has come to me!’
Jael saw nothing but darkness. The hawkish voice was loud, echoing around her as though she was in a large cave. It felt damp. She shivered, but from the voice or the cold, she couldn’t tell.
‘You think you can save her? You?’ the voice laughed, cackling with menace. ‘A dreamer you may be, at last, but you are too late. She is mine now! You may as well go back. There is nothing for you here... dreamer.’
Jael tried to catch her breath, tried to see anything at all. She pushed her boots down and could feel rock beneath them.
Then a light ahead. Flames?
Running towards the light, Jael could feel the sharp edges of the rocks piercing her boots, jabbing into the soles of her feet. But she was not limping.