by A. E. Rayne
Jael Furyck would never return.
Morana had promised her that.
‘Can you see it?’ the voice screeched ecstatically. ‘Can you see what is coming for her? And here you are, trapped still. Helpless! Dying! Dead already! Supposed to save her, weren’t you? Yet, what can you do when you are my prisoner? When she will soon be theirs?’
The laughter was unrelenting. Smug and satisfied.
She could feel it crashing against her, claiming victory.
Against her.
Against Jael.
She had to move. She had to do something because she had seen it.
She had seen what was coming.
And it was terrifying.
Jael was breathless as she pulled on Tig’s reins, slowing him down, waiting for Fyn to catch up. ‘He rides well,’ she nodded at Fyn’s horse as he skittered to a stop beside her.
‘Probably eager to get away from that place too,’ he said, just as breathlessly. ‘It doesn’t feel right in there.’ Fyn glanced around, happy to see the sun beginning its slow rise. The constant storms had rattled him, and he felt on edge. Worried about his mother. Ready to go home.
‘You’re right,’ Jael agreed. ‘It’s as though they’re all afraid of something. Or someone.’
‘Maybe that elderman?’ Fyn wondered as they let the horses walk towards the sun; a building, yellow glow, spreading above the treeline in the distance.
‘He is odd,’ Jael agreed, wanting to say more. ‘Hiding a lot, I think. They all are. But as long as we find out how to get Eadmund back from Evaine, and a way to save Edela, they can keep all the secrets they like. As soon as we get what we need, we’ll head for home. We have to. Eydis had a dream. She thinks Ivaar is about to attack Oss.’
‘What?’ Fyn looked horrified.
‘Don’t worry, there are plenty on Oss who know how to deal with Ivaar.’
‘Do you trust Eadmund to?’
‘Of course, don’t you?’
Fyn remembered their escape from Hest. Eadmund had saved Jael. He had thought quickly and acted decisively. ‘I do.’
‘Good, because I think that Evaine might have bound his heart, but hopefully, Eadmund can still use his head. And as for us?’ She leaned over and patted Tig. ‘I think it’s been too long since we did any training. They must practise somewhere around here. Let’s get Aedan and Aron to show us around after breakfast. It’s been a long time since I kicked you in the head!’
‘Ha!’ Fyn laughed. ‘And a long time before you will again!’
Jael grinned, enjoying the silence after such a stormy night. She frowned suddenly, peering around. They were in a flat field and in the distance, on three sides of them, were rows of trees. Forest, everywhere they looked. ‘Do you hear that?’
‘No. Hear what?’
‘Nothing,’ Jael said, a shiver shooting down her spine. ‘Nothing at all. Listen.’
So, he did.
Fyn couldn’t hear any noise at all. No birdsong. No insects buzzing. It was so still that he couldn’t even feel a breeze. And as he looked around, he couldn’t see any birds either.
Jael stared up at the sky. A blue-grey hue was spreading far above them, but when she squinted, she was certain that it was darkening in the distance now. ‘Looks like another storm. And if all the birds have gone, it can’t be a good sign. Let’s head back.’
Fyn nodded, feeling odd. He patted his blowing horse, and nudged his boots into his flanks, following Tig. Turning around, he noticed the clouds in the distance.
They were growing bigger and darker by the moment.
Jaeger gripped Meena’s hand.
He could tell that she wanted to tap her head with it. Her fingers pulsed against his, desperate to escape his hold. But for all that she didn’t want to be there with him, he was glad she was.
They stood in a large circle surrounding a fire that spat and crackled in the middle of them all, belching out strange smelling smoke. One of the Followers walked amongst the stones, beating out a hypnotic rhythm on his drum in time to Morana’s chanting. Another two Followers were winding their way through the circle, handing out cups of something to drink.
Jaeger wrinkled his nose as they stopped before him. The woman dipped a cup into the foul-smelling liquid and held it out to him. Jaeger took it and drank quickly, wanting to get it over with.
He tried not to retch.
It was warm and thick and tasted bitter. He was certain it was blood.
But whose?
Handing the cup back to the woman, he was surprised to see that she was not finished. Dipping her thumb into the bowl her companion was holding, she raised it to his forehead, drawing on him in a circular motion. Satisfied with her efforts, she turned to Meena and once again, dipped the cup into the bowl and held it out for her to drink.
Jaeger found himself forgetting about Meena’s squirming fingers as he drifted away on a tide of unfamiliar sounds and smells. The Followers who had drunk from the cup began to lie down now, keeping the formation of their circle. No one spoke and the only voice Jaeger could hear as he lay on the wet grass was the grating cry of Morana as she read from his book.
Jaeger’s body was throbbing in anticipation He tried to join in with the Followers as they echoed Morana’s words, but he stumbled over them, struggling with a tongue that grew inside his mouth. The words tangled themselves into knots inside his head.
Eventually, he closed his eyes, losing himself in a cold, rushing wind.
It was as though he was flying.
‘We have to go!’ Aleksander demanded, wrapping his swordbelt around his waist.
Axl, his eyes barely open, was not moving, and because he was gripping Amma’s hand, she was not moving either. ‘But we have to wait for Gant,’ he protested.
‘We have to go to Tuura now!’ Aleksander urged, kicking dirt over the last embers of the fire. ‘We have to find horses, leave a message for Gant. We have to go!’
‘Aleksander!’ Axl called as he sat up, trying to get his attention. ‘You can’t expect us to follow you without telling us anything! Why would we go to Tuura when I’m going to be King of Brekka? We need to wait here!’
Amma was worried. Aleksander looked so shaken. His frown was deep, and his eyes were troubled, jumping about with urgency. ‘Tell us, Aleksander. What has happened? Why do you want to go to Tuura?’
‘Where do you suppose Jael has gotten to?’ Branwyn wondered, pacing around the house, picking up the extra bedding and setting everything to right. Despite Entorp and Fyn being sequestered with Aedan and Aron, there was still barely enough room to move.
There was a knock at the door, and Kormac, who was just about to go and see to the animals, opened it with a smile, ushering Entorp inside. ‘Everyone’s up early,’ he noted, ducking through the door, glancing up at the sky. ‘Looks like another storm soon. Not sure our roof can take many more nights like last night. I’d be surprised if we have any thatch left soon!’
‘It was a bad night,’ Entorp agreed as he removed his cloak. ‘I don’t think any of us slept much at all. Your granddaughter was quite disturbed. And young Fyn headed off while it was still dark.’
Gisila frowned as she combed Eydis’ hair. ‘Well, hopefully, he’s with Jael. This is not the sort of place you’d want to get lost. Not anymore.’
Branwyn sighed ‘I agree. Especially after what they tried to do to poor Aleksander. It makes you wonder what is really going on here. There is so much we don’t know.’
Entorp sat down on Edela’s bed, patting the puppies who were sniffing him for food, eager for their breakfast which nobody was attending to.
He froze.
‘What is it?’ Branwyn asked.
‘Did you see that?’ Entorp breathed. ‘I think she moved.’ His eyes didn’t leave Edela’s face as he reached for her wrist, feeling for a pulse.
‘Did she?’ Gisila asked eagerly, rushing to join him at her mother’s bedside.
Branwyn frowned. She hadn’t seen anything,
but she was desperate to believe that something had changed.
That there was some hope.
There was a door.
She could see a light; soft, glowing, yellow flames that promised hope.
But so faint. Or perhaps that was just her?
But there was a door.
And she could see a light.
And on the other side of that door was Jael.
And Jael was in danger. Now!
Jael was in danger now!
Jael rode fast, frozen by the wind; by the sudden absence of any sun and warmth. It was as though the entire sky was falling on top of them, suffocating them with thick, icy clouds.
She glanced at Fyn. He looked as troubled as she felt. They were both eager to get back to the fort, as strange as that thought sounded to her own ears.
She bent lower over Tig, dropping her head, urging him on.
They could see the gates now.
Marcus strode towards the temple doors.
Something was wrong.
The temple was usually filled with a steady stream of hushed murmuring. The elders and dreamers whispered as they walked, talked, and worked. But there was nothing to be heard this morning.
Not a breath. Just silence.
Marcus had lain awake for much of the night, his mind anxious, his body jumping. Storms weren’t new, of course, but it was the middle of spring, and he would have expected to see less of them, not more.
Not this many.
Not this violent.
He grimaced as one of his senior elders walked in front of the high doors, a temple guard on either side of him.
Marcus frowned but kept walking.
‘My lord,’ Gerod Gott said loudly, holding his hand out as Marcus reached past him for the door. ‘I would advise you to stay inside this morning. Another storm is coming. And fast.’
Marcus was disturbed by the peculiar look in Gerod’s unsettling blue eyes. ‘Is that so? Another storm? Well, perhaps I should see how everyone fares in the fort? It’s important they’re all safe, wouldn’t you say?’
Gerod didn’t move. He didn’t blink. ‘Of course, my lord, and I can send someone out to do just that, but first I must ensure that you, as the elderman, are safe from what is coming. It’s best that you go with the guards, back to your chamber.’
Marcus turned as another guard came up behind him, and then another.
He stepped away from the door and dropped his shoulders as the guards grabbed hold of him.
‘But it was just a bad dream, a nightmare, surely?’ Axl insisted.
Aleksander shook his head impatiently. He knew what had happened. He was certain he did. It didn’t feel like a dream.
She had come to him.
He shook all over. ‘We have to go!’
Axl stepped forward, ready to continue the argument when his mouth fell open. ‘What is that?’ he asked slowly.
Aleksander spun around, his own mouth dropping open in shock.
Jael.
Jael.
She had to save Jael.
Fyn’s eyes widened in horror. ‘Jael!’ he screamed.
Jael looked around at the sky that was black now; at the storm clouds that were chasing them.
They weren’t storm clouds.
Jael jabbed her boots into Tig’s flanks as hard as she could, dropping her head even further down his neck. She kicked him again, and he got the message, spurring on with an angry fury, understanding her panic now. He could feel it too. He galloped, his muscles straining, Jael’s voice loud in his ear. ‘Go, go, go Tig! Go!’
She didn’t turn to look at Fyn as she rode past him, feeling Tig thundering powerfully beneath her, his hooves pounding into the soft ground, mud flying everywhere.
Aiming for the gates.
They had to make it to the gates.
Eydis stumbled, falling to the floor.
She had stood up as everyone hurried to Edela’s bedside, but was suddenly overwhelmed by a furious noise; a terrifying screeching that made her put her hands over her ears. It was a desperate cry that no one else seemed to hear.
She knelt on the floor, hands over her ears, closing her eyes. Her heart was racing, her body shaking. She took a deep breath to calm herself down and slipped away.
Axl and Aleksander turned back to Amma and threw her to the ground; Axl’s hand over her mouth, muffling her screams.
It was suddenly dark.
So dark.
And that noise?
What was happening?
‘Edela?’ Biddy asked quietly as she gripped her hand. She had been up early, milking the goats, trying to be useful. ‘Edela?’ Entorp had told her that Edela might have moved, and she was disappointed to see that nothing appeared to have changed at all.
She glanced around and noticed Eydis sitting on the floor, her eyes closed. ‘Eydis?’ Biddy frowned. ‘Are you alright?’
‘Edela?’ Entorp murmured, studying her face closely.
Edela’s eyes flickered. ‘Jael.’
It was so faint, more of a croak, but they could all hear the urgency in that familiar voice.
‘Jael!’
21
‘Open the gates! Open the gates!’ Jael screamed, her eyes wide with the fear of what was about to descend upon them.
They could hear it now. Feel it too.
A violent, surging, rushing wave of terror; so close it was almost breathing on them.
‘Open the gates!’ Fyn screamed with her, his eyes bursting with panic, his voice breaking. ‘Open the fucking gates!’
The guards on the ramparts turned at the sound of the panicked voices, their mouths hanging open, their eyes as round as plates. ‘Open the gates! Open the gates!’ they bellowed down to the men who waited below. ‘Hurry!’
The gates opened too slowly for Jael and Fyn’s liking. They each had to pull on their reins, skidding their panicked horses as they slipped through the narrow gap that was slowly forming between each gate.
‘Close them! Quick!’ Jael yelled, riding Tig down the busy main street. ‘Get into your houses! Get into your houses now! Shut your doors!’ she cried, galloping towards Branwyn and Kormac’s house, Fyn close behind her. ‘Get into your houses! Hurry!’
Kormac looked up.
Gisila frowned, glancing at Biddy, her heart quickening. ‘Jael?’
Branwyn was at the door quickly, pulling it open.
‘Jael!’ Edela opened her eyes, her body shaking with terror. ‘Hurry!’
Jael slid off Tig at the door, dragging him into the house past a dumbstruck Branwyn. Fyn pulled Aron’s terrified horse in after them.
‘Shut the door!’ she screamed, and then it hit. ‘Get down!’ She ran to Eydis, knocking her to the floor, pushing her under the bed. ‘Kormac! Cover the window!’
The house filled with the frenzied whinnying of horses who skittered about in terror, and then the thunderous battering against the walls; the solitary window shattering before Kormac could get to it as a swarm of ravens flew inside.
Branwyn shrieked, dropping to her knees, covering her head.
‘Fyn! Hold the horses! We need to get Edela under the bed!’ Jael cried.
Fyn grabbed both sets of reins, pulling them tightly against his chest as the horses panicked.
As he panicked in between them.
Entorp dug his hands under Edela, scooping her into his arms, trying to shield her from the swarming birds. Jael was there quickly, with Biddy, helping him to ease Edela under the bed as the birds flapped their wings into their faces, claws out, black beaks stabbing them.
‘Arrrhhh!’ Biddy yelped as the ravens tore at her arms.
‘Biddy, get under the bed!’ Jael ordered, pushing her down next to Edela.
The puppies raced under the nearest bed as the birds flew around the house, gurgling and croaking and threatening them all.
‘Mother, Branwyn, get under the beds!’ Jael shouted over the noise, hurrying to help Kormac as he lifted up the table, turning it upright
and shoving it against the broken window, blocking any more birds from rushing inside. ‘Arrrhhh!’ she groaned as a beak snapped at her arm, straight through her tunic, ripping her flesh. Jael drew Toothpick and spun, slashing the air, trying to kill the fast-moving birds; jumping back as they turned to dive and attack her again. Kormac dropped to the floor, crawling about, looking for his swordbelt.
It was so dark now. The birds had covered the smoke hole.
The puppies howled. The horses tried to rear up on their legs at every painful nip as the birds shrilled, smelling blood, eager for more.
Jael spun, Toothpick in hand, killing the ravens as they swarmed around her face, biting and scratching at her. Kormac found his eating knife and stabbed the last few.
And the house shook.
‘What is happening?’ Branwyn wailed from under the bed where she lay next to Gisila.
‘The book, Jael. Get the book.’
It was so faint, but Jael knew that voice. She spun around. ‘Grandmother?’ Her arms were bleeding. There was a deep scratch across her cheek. Blood was pouring down, into her mouth. Her tunic was in tatters, but for one moment nothing else mattered. ‘Grandmother?’
‘Jael. Get the book. Hurry!’
Jaeger could see. He could feel. He was there, soaring with the ravens; watching as they devastated Tuura.
As they tracked Jael Furyck.
He could feel himself smiling; his lips wet with anticipation for her blood.
They would gut her.
But they had to keep going. They could not stop. Not until she was dead. Until they all were. He could feel the rumble of the chant growing inside him like building flames. It was in him, twisting inside his body.