by A. E. Rayne
Hedrun ran towards them, his mouth flapping open, struggling to tie his swordbelt around his waist. ‘What do we do?’ he panicked. ‘What do we do?’
‘Burn them!’ Aleksander cried. ‘Get your men to light torches! Those with swords and axes should aim for their heads. And stay out of the way of that lightning!’
Thorgils hobbled forward, following Aleksander’s advice, chopping with his sword, hacking into the neck of a charging dragur. He could feel his stitches ripping as the dragur’s head jerked back, still attached to its decaying body. Quickly righting itself, it rushed forward again. Thorgils blinked in surprise. ‘I need fire!’ he yelled. ‘Somebody get me a torch!’
Jael didn’t know how long she had before she passed out, but the buzzing in her ears and the black patches flashing in front of her eyes told her not long. ‘When I say move, run to the left,’ she said, watching as three dragur fought their way through the table and chairs barricading the door. ‘Wait.’ She swallowed, swaying, all of her weight on the crutch, wanting to reach for Toothpick. Wanting to feel him in her hand again.
Jael blinked, suddenly realising that she didn’t have the book. Where was her saddlebag? And where had Astrid put her daughter’s body? Jael clamped her teeth together, forcing herself to focus.
The dragur screeched, their voices rising as they smashed the stacked furniture, clambering awkwardly over the pile towards the women.
‘Closer together,’ Jael said, her heart like a drum in her chest. ‘Wait.’
Astrid edged towards Jael until their bodies were touching.
As the dragur cleared the barricade and ran at them.
‘Move!’ Jael croaked, falling away to the right as Astrid hurried to the left, leaving the dragur unable to stop as they ran head first into the fire pit, tumbling over one another into the flames. ‘Help me!’ Jael urged, limping back to the fire. ‘Use your torch! Push them back in!’ The dragur were trying to scramble out of the flames. Jael leaned on the crutch, feeling it bite into her armpit, and drew Toothpick from his sheepskin scabbard.
Lifting her arm, she was surprised by the weight of her sword, but she brought it up, stabbing Toothpick through the stomach of one of the burning dragur as Astrid tried to poke another further into the flames. The dragur kicked out at the healer, knocking her to the ground, the torch rolling out of her hand.
‘Astrid!’ Jael lifted her arm as high as she could, stabbing the dragur in the chest. It jerked into the flames, hands reaching out. ‘We have to go! Pick up your torch, hurry!’ And she stumbled towards the table where the basket of her baby daughter waited, right next to her saddlebag. ‘Help me! Get that bag over my head!’
Astrid scrambled to her feet, too scared to think at all as she retrieved her torch and hurried towards Jael, aware that the dragur were still trying to come out of the fire pit as its flames swallowed their writhing bodies; jumping at a boom of thunder that shook the cottage. She slipped the saddlebag over Jael’s head with shaking hands.
‘You take the basket,’ Jael breathed. ‘Keep her safe for me. Don’t let her go. Please.’
Astrid nodded, grabbing the handles of the small, woven basket in one hand, her torch in the other as she followed after Jael who was wobbling ahead of her, trying to make her way through the smashed barricades.
The stinking dragur now sizzling in the fire behind them.
The storm was raging directly above them now, and Aleksander was panting, and Thorgils was bleeding from his opened wounds as he swung a flaming torch into the ruined mouth of a screeching dragur. The dragur screeched some more, stumbling backwards, but it didn’t go down.
They were still in the square, fighting off what appeared to be at least a hundred creatures. It was hard to tell. It was a dark night, and the main source of light was coming from the blazing pyres which were sending towers of flames high into the stormy sky.
‘You have to leave! Hurry!’
Aleksander spun around, but no one was there. The noise of the thunder had drowned out the voice, but he thought he recognised it. He waved his torch at the four dragur surrounding him, spinning, watching as the thatch caught in the distance, spreading quickly.
Jael, he thought, panicking. The horses.
Shoving his torch into the face of one dragur, he tried to step away from them. He needed to get to Thorgils, who he could see staggering nearby, bleeding from every limb. ‘We have to leave!’ he cried. ‘Thorgils! Get the horses! I’ll get Jael!’
‘Really? You think you can just leave?’ Draguta purred, watching intensely. She was transfixed as she sat at the table, peering into her circle, impatient to see what was going to happen next. ‘I want that book. Kill the half-dead bitch, and take her book! It can’t be that hard, can it? She’s almost on her knees. Kill her! Now!’
Eadmund woke up, wondering what Draguta was doing. He glanced at Brill who sat on the corner of a bed, her arms around her knees, rocking back and forth.
‘My lady!’ Astrid screamed as a dragur tore at her nightdress. She swung around with her torch, trying to frighten it away.
The dragur jerked backwards, and Jael hobbled up beside Astrid, slashing Toothpick, trying to hit it. Exhausted by the effort, she dropped her arm, breathing heavily. The dragur, seeing that Jael had no flaming torch, aimed a punch at her face.
Astrid screamed again as Jael toppled backwards, the dragur throwing itself on top of her, grabbing her saddlebag, trying to yank it off her shoulder.
Jael grunted, crushed by the weight, Toothpick still in her hand. But she couldn’t lift her sword because the dragur was on her right arm, so she brought up her left arm instead, smashing the crutch onto the dragur’s head. ‘Give me the torch!’ she yelled, trying not to inhale the stench of the creature as it leaned its eyeless face close to hers, untroubled by the blow.
Jael could feel the heat of the fire as she dropped the broken crutch, and wrapped her hand around the chair leg, and so could the dragur. It shrieked, backing away from the flames but it was too late as Jael shoved it into its hollowed-out eye socket. Leaving it there, she staggered to her feet. ‘We have to find Thorgils and Aleksander,’ she panted, bending over. ‘Stay behind me. And don’t let go of my baby!’
9
Edela couldn’t hear for all the screeching. The dragur were everywhere. Blue-tinged, decomposing bodies dressed in rags, lurching forward in odd jerking movements.
But someone was talking to her.
A woman.
She turned and turned, wondering if it was Jael; hoping to see her.
Flames burst up into the night sky as people rushed past her, abandoning their burning homes, heading for the gates. And there she was, walking through them all, her pale nightdress flapping like gull wings behind her.
Ayla.
Her ghostly face was moon-like against the fiery night sky, glistening with sweat. She looked so very ill. Pale. Not like herself at all.
‘I am dying, Edela,’ she breathed. ‘We are all dying. The sickness will kill us. That is her plan. I have seen it. I have dreamed it. Come to me, Edela. Come and find me. Hurry.’
Edela reached out a hand, desperate to know more, but Ayla slid away from her, drifting like smoke, up into the sky.
‘Jael!’ Aleksander ran into the cottage. ‘Astrid!’ He saw the bodies of the burning dragur in the fire pit; smelled them too. Jael’s bed was empty. Her saddlebag and the baby’s basket were nowhere to be seen.
Quickly scanning the cottage, Aleksander grabbed Thorgils’ overstuffed bag and Jael’s armour and ran back out the door.
Rufus didn’t know Thorgils, and he wouldn’t come.
Hot flames were licking the poles holding up the roof of the stables. Thorgils could hear the thatch crackling above him, and thunder and lightning were terrifying the horse too. He had released the other horses, shooing them outside, but he’d kept theirs behind, attaching bridles and saddles as quickly as his swollen hands would allow, wondering how he’d ever thought that punching a dragur w
as a good idea.
Tig was restless, Thorgils could see; anxious for Jael no doubt.
He swallowed, hoping that Aleksander would get to Jael and Astrid in time.
‘Come on, now,’ Thorgils urged, tugging on Rufus’ bridle. He had moved Gus and Sky out into the middle of the stables, looping their reins around the only pole that wasn’t on fire. Tig was banging against the door of his stall, and Thorgils needed to get him ready, but Rufus had dug his hooves into the straw, shrinking backwards with every tug. With every boom of thunder above.
And suddenly, Thorgils could smell why.
Releasing Rufus, he unsheathed his sword, spinning around as a group of dragur burst in through the doors.
‘My lady!’ Hedrun ran up to Jael who was struggling towards the stables, holding onto Astrid, his eyes big with terror. ‘They’re everywhere! The fire’s destroying everything! All of it! All that we’ve built!’
Jael didn’t know Hedrun. He had risen to power after her father’s death, but he didn’t appear to be a man made for a crisis. ‘Leave!’ she growled, pointing at the gates. ‘The dragur will kill you before the fire does! Get your people out of here. Now! I will try and lead them away!’ And swaying against Astrid, Jael pulled the healer towards the stables which she could see were on fire. ‘We need to get to the horses quickly. They want the book. I have to leave. You need to come with me!’
Astrid nodded, glancing around the burning fort as people and animals milled around in confusion and fear, all of them as panicked as Hedrun. She had no family; her husband had died a few years ago, and they had never had a child live past its first birthday.
Going with Jael Furyck seemed like the best option.
‘Quick!’ Jael cried as a pack of dragur barrelled towards them, some of them on fire as shards of lightning exploded from the storm clouds. ‘We have to go!’
Thorgils couldn’t hold them off. There were too many, and his injured arm was weak, and their thick, blue arms, some wielding giant, rusted swords, were not. ‘Grrrrr!’ he yelled, swinging around with his own sword, hoping some momentum would put more power into his blow. It did as he finally took off a dragur’s head.
But there were eight more with perfectly intact heads swarming around him, knocking him to the ground. Thorgils could smell the smoke; he could feel it clogging his throat as he lay in the straw, fighting off the dragur with his bruised and bleeding forearm, listening to the panic of the whinnying horses and the rolling thunder growing louder above him.
And then a smash as Tig reared up on his hind legs, over and over until he shattered the door of his stall. The dragur were momentarily distracted by the great black beast as he reared up before them, bringing his hooves down, scattering them.
Thorgils scrambled to his feet in surprise, panting, searching for his sword. He couldn’t see it in the straw, but as he turned, he could see that one of the dragur had picked it up, and was charging for Tig.
‘No!’ Thorgils cried, running for the blue creature who lunged at the horse, but as the dragur swung the sword, it suddenly collapsed in a heap, a spear straight through its skull; the sharp, iron speartip popping out its empty eye socket. Thorgils spun around, blinking in horror to see Jael standing there. ‘Jael!’
Jael’s eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she promptly fell to the ground.
‘My lady!’
Astrid was quickly beside her, gripping the basket to her chest. ‘She’s fainted.’
‘Jael!’ Aleksander ran into the stables, ignoring for a moment the dragur who were quickly circling them all. ‘Astrid, you need to wake her up. Get her on her feet. We’ll get the horses ready.’ And he ran for Thorgils, but the dragur barely glanced at them. They had seen the saddlebag over Jael’s shoulder, and they could hear the cry of their mistress, loud in their ears.
‘Get the book!’ she demanded. ‘Kill her, and bring me the book!’
Jael could hear Draguta’s voice too, and her eyes popped open, her fingers reaching for the saddlebag, pulling it to her chest. ‘Get the horses outside,’ she croaked, sitting up, blinking at the dragur who were approaching cautiously. ‘Then bring back fire. We have to burn them!’
Thorgils glanced at Aleksander and ran to untie Gus, shepherding him outside, Sky right behind him. Rufus was out of his stall now, and after a slap on the rump, he raced out of the stables too. Thorgils turned to Tig, but he wasn’t going anywhere. Jael would need him.
Astrid helped Jael to her feet as Aleksander circled them both with his sword.
Jael’s head was spinning as she straightened up, but she unsheathed Toothpick, and planted her feet, gripping her sword with both hands, watching as Tig reared up again, smashing his hooves down into the huddle of dragur.
They scattered, rushing her and Aleksander.
‘Jael,’ Aleksander muttered, watching her wobble out of the corner of one eye. ‘Hold on. We need to get you on Tig. Just hold on.’
But Jael wasn’t about to hold on.
She thought of her baby. She saw her daughter, wrapped in the blanket in Astrid’s basket, and she remembered what the dragur had done to her.
What Draguta had done to her.
And she knew that Draguta was watching. Listening.
So, sucking in a deep breath, Jael roared, tears stinging her eyes. ‘You can’t stop me, Draguta! You can kill my child! You can take my husband! But you will never stop me! I am coming to kill you! I am coming to rip out your fucking throat!’ And after another long breath, she spun, slashing her sword across the face of the nearest dragur, kicking it in the chest as it screeched, curling away from her.
Draguta’s eyes blazed as she sat there, clenching her fists on either side of the circle, watching as Jael Furyck - half-dead, grief-stricken Jael Furyck – cut her dragur to pieces with the help of her pathetic, old lover.
Her beautiful face twisted into a scowl so intense that her cheeks ached. Picking up the wine jug that sat at the head of the table, she threw it at the wall, just missing Eadmund’s head. ‘Your wife!’ she bellowed. ‘She will pay! She will pay for this! And you will see to it! Do you hear me, Eadmund? You will kill her! She thinks that she will come and kill me?’ Draguta laughed, and it was an ear-piercing shriek. ‘She has no idea what I have planned for her!’
Aleksander boosted Jael up onto Tig. ‘Hold on tight!’ he ordered, waiting while she gripped the reins. ‘We’ll catch up with you. Lead them out of here. Head for Andala! We’ll find you!’ And taking Astrid’s hand, Aleksander dragged the healer towards Rufus as Thorgils rushed past them with two flaming torches. He threw them into the stables, hurrying to secure the doors before running for the horses who were tied to the thrashing post in the middle of the square.
Watching as Jael and Tig disappeared through the mass of flames and screaming villagers running for the gates.
Eydis was disturbed by the noises in the cottage and the terror of her own dreams. She rolled over, listening to Biddy and Edela who were huddled by the fire in the dark, whispering urgently to one another. ‘What’s happened?’
Biddy jumped. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Eydis. I was trying not to wake you. I thought you might be having a useful dream over there.’
Eydis swallowed, sitting up, shuddering at the memory of her dream. Blue men had been raging through Andala, killing everyone with their clenched fists and their rusted weapons. The strange noises they made still rang in her ears, and she was struggling to think. ‘No, I don’t think it was useful,’ she mumbled, at last. ‘No more than Edela has already seen of the dragur.’
‘You’ve seen them too?’ Edela inhaled sharply. ‘I fear they are getting closer, but do not worry, Eydis, we have time.’ Her voice shook, and she blinked, surprised by her continued lack of certainty. She smiled, trying to hide it, though Eydis would not be comforted by a smile she couldn’t see.
Frowning, Eydis pushed away Vella, who was licking her hand, and stood. ‘What are you doing?’ she wondered, moving towards Edela. ‘It’s not morni
ng, is it?’
‘No, it’s not,’ Biddy said. ‘Edela had a dream. And now she’s going to do something she shouldn’t.’
Eydis found a stool and sat down, feeling the cold wood beneath her nightdress. The fire was only just coming back to life, she could tell, and the cottage was chilly. ‘What are you going to do? What did you see?’
‘I saw Ayla,’ Edela breathed, tingling with excitement. Nerves too. ‘She wants me to come and find her, so I am going to try another dream walk.’
They looked over their shoulders at the burning mess of Harstad in the distance, flames devouring the new ramparts; lightning still shooting down from the clouds, keeping the fires blazing.
Aleksander rode in front, Astrid behind him on Rufus, Thorgils bringing up the rear on Gus; all three of them charging after Jael and Tig, who had a head start.
The dragur still standing were escaping, chasing after them, calling to each other like angry ravens, the revolting stench of them stronger than the smoke belching from the burning fort.
Jael slowed down, hearing the horses behind her. She gripped Tig’s reins with shaking hands, knowing that she couldn’t afford to pass out again. They had to lead the dragur far away from Harstad.
All the way to Andala.
They couldn’t afford to stop now.
Draguta had finally crawled into her bed, and Eadmund wasn’t sure if she was sleeping, but she wasn’t screaming or throwing things, which was a relief. But despite the silence, he couldn’t get back to sleep. The things Draguta had said and the memories of his dreams kept him alert and unsettled.