by A. E. Rayne
Bergil watched as she kicked dust onto the flames, pulling himself up on a boulder, thinking about how nice it would be to sit around the fire with his wife and sup on some ale. But then he remembered the promise of more coins, and he hurried to ready the horses.
Jael felt odd.
Biddy was being so nice. So was Edela. Eydis too. But she just wanted to walk out of the cottage and into the night and not have to face any of their questions or listen to any of their sympathetic words.
Edela was sitting in her fur-lined chair by the fire, flicking through the pages of the Book of Aurea, her eyes wide, the flames flickering on her alert face.
‘Do you really think there’s an answer to this curse in there?’ Jael wondered, running her hand over Vella’s back as she lay on her lap. Ido was curled up on her bare feet, keeping them warmer than they had been in days.
‘I don’t know,’ Edela admitted. ‘I had thought so, but the curse was not from the Book of Darkness, was it? It is one of the Following’s, so perhaps not. Still, I will keep looking. This book will be a great help to us, I’m sure. Once I can understand what it all means!’
Jael smiled, remembering what they went through to keep hold of it. ‘The dragur are coming,’ she said, reminded of those thumping, blue fists. ‘I have to go and talk to Gant and Axl. We need to be prepared for an attack.’
Biddy glanced at Eydis who looked as terrified as she felt.
‘Well, perhaps I can find something in here for them also?’ Edela said keenly. ‘I may have a very late night, Biddy!’
‘I’ll have to sit up and keep you company, then. Make you some tea. Keep the fire going.’
‘That would be nice,’ Edela murmured, only half listening.
Biddy’s attention drifted to Jael who sat there stiffly, looking so pale and sad. She could tell that Jael was uncomfortable. That she didn’t want to be noticed. Didn’t want to talk about what had happened. ‘Did you have any dreams while you were gone? Anything to help us?’ she wondered, trying to walk around the subject Jael was so desperate to avoid.
Jael nodded, looking at Eydis. ‘I did. I dreamed about Eadmund.’
‘Is he alright?’ Eydis asked desperately. ‘Did you see where he was? Where he’s gone?’
‘Almost. He’s with Draguta.’
Edela looked up from the book.
‘Draguta?’ Eydis’ mouth hung open.
‘She has plans for him,’ Jael said as a way to reassure her, but it didn’t sound very reassuring, she supposed. ‘But don’t worry, she has no plans to kill him that I could see. Which is good. It means that he’s safe.’
‘Safe?’ Biddy was surprised by that. ‘With Draguta?’
‘If she needs Eadmund, she will not hurt him,’ Edela assured her. ‘Until we can find a way to rescue him, it’s the best we can hope for.’
Biddy didn’t look convinced.
‘What about Evaine?’ Eydis wondered. ‘Is she with Eadmund?’
‘No. He appeared to be waiting for her to come. I’ve no idea what that means, but he still looked bound to her,’ Jael said, remembering her dream. ‘I did see one strange thing. He had a lock of hair. It looked like Sigmund’s. A tiny, blonde curl attached to a leather strap. And on the strap, I saw symbols.’
‘Symbols?’ Edela put down the book. ‘Well, that is interesting. It might explain a lot. I shall see what I can find in here for Eadmund, of course, but first I must find a way to break this curse before it’s too late for poor Hanna and Ayla.’
Entorp looked Aleksander over with a frown. ‘Do you have the symbols of protection?’ he wondered, knowing how much Edela and Biddy cared for this man. Hanna too, it seemed, given how many times she had called out for him in the beginning.
Aleksander nodded.
‘Well, then, come with me, but be warned. It is not a place for anyone with a weak stomach. The smell is quite... overpowering. And Hanna, she is dying, I’m afraid. It might be a shock.’
Aleksander wanted to turn around and leave as much as he wanted to follow Entorp. He didn’t know why on either count, but when he saw Marcus sitting on the ground beside Hanna, he felt as though he shouldn’t have come.
The shed was dark, just the glow of a few lamps lighting the large, open space. It made for a restful feel, but it was hard to see much, though in this shed, at least, Entorp’s patients did not require much attention, nor did they need to be disturbed by the light.
Marcus struggled to his feet. ‘You’ve returned,’ he said gruffly, his eyes not quite meeting Aleksander’s. ‘With the Book of Aurea?’
Aleksander nodded. ‘Jael will have given it to Edela, I’m sure.’
Marcus looked relieved. ‘She says it’s a curse, this sickness. The book may have a way to break it.’
Aleksander was surprised by that. ‘A curse?’
‘But she needs to hurry,’ Marcus sighed, standing back so that Aleksander could see Hanna. ‘Edela needs to hurry.’ Tears burned his aching eyes. He had shed so many now that he was sure no more would fall. It was an endless nightmare, sitting beside his daughter, waiting for her death; listening as each breath lengthened; watching as her chest rose and fell; waking up from a doze in a panic, wondering if she was still there.
He motioned for Aleksander to take his place, walking away to the open door, eager for a breath of sea air. Entorp took one look at Aleksander’s face and followed him.
Aleksander turned towards Hanna, shocked by the change in her as Entorp had predicted. He remembered her round face, her thick, brown hair. She was almost skeletal now, her cheekbones protruding, her hair lank and lifeless as she lay there. So still. He knelt beside the mattress, taking her hand. It was limp and ice-cold, all its weight resting on his own.
Aleksander didn’t know her. Not like he knew Jael.
He didn’t know her, but part of him wanted to. He could feel that. He had felt that from the beginning. There was something about her.
She couldn’t die.
‘Hanna.’ Bending down, he whispered in her ear. ‘Hanna, it’s Aleksander. Perhaps I’m the last person you want here with you now.’ He shook his head, wanting to say something that mattered. ‘I don’t know, perhaps I...’ He stopped, swallowing. ‘I want you to know that we’re going to save you. I’m here now, and we’re going to save you. Jael and Edela. Your father. Entorp. All of us. You have to hold on. Just a little longer. Give us some time. Please. Just a little longer.’
Hanna’s eyes were closed, but he thought back to the nights in Tuura’s tavern when she had smiled at him, helped him, and, in the end, saved him.
She had the kindest blue eyes.
‘Hold on,’ he whispered. ‘Please. Don’t let go.’
Gisila kept staring at her, and Jael sighed knowing what that meant.
No one else did, though, so that was something, but Jael couldn’t help being distracted as she sat at the high table wedged in between Axl and Gant, wishing she had gone straight to bed.
Axl was full of questions.
Gant wasn’t. He could see that Jael wasn’t herself, and he was happy to leave her be.
She was grateful.
Gant tried to steer Axl towards the only topic they could do something about. ‘How long do you think we’ve got, then? Before the dragur are here?’
Jael shrugged, realising that she would have to find a bed soon before she embarrassed herself by passing out again. Her ears had started buzzing, and she could barely keep her eyes open. ‘We left them behind quickly. But they’re dead, so they don’t need to stop and rest or eat. I imagine they’ll be here before we want them to be. We need scouts out there, looking for them. Fast riders who can give us some warning.’
‘You’re certain they’re coming here?’ Axl wondered, smiling as Amma waved to him before disappearing behind the curtain, heading for bed.
‘They’re coming for me,’ Jael said blankly. ‘And the Book of Aurea. The two things Draguta wants. I saw her in my dreams. She was watching, controlling them.
She wants the book, and me dead, so yes, they’re coming.’
Axl inhaled sharply. ‘And how do we kill them?’
‘With fire,’ Jael said, trying to think, but it was hard when she was so tired. ‘They hate fire. Beheading them seems to work, but they’re made of stone. Even Thorgils struggled to do that.’
‘So we have to find a way to burn them without burning ourselves?’ Gant mused. ‘That should keep me awake tonight.’
‘Me too,’ Axl frowned.
‘Not me,’ Jael yawned. ‘I plan to sleep until the sun comes up or the dragur arrive. Whichever comes first.’
‘We should double the watch on the walls,’ Gant suggested.
‘Good idea,’ Axl nodded. ‘And have the catapults in place. We’ve been making more sea-fire. We lost some when the dragon came down.’
‘I wish I’d seen it,’ Jael said. ‘Not much left of it now.’
‘No,’ Gant agreed. ‘I don’t think any of us would care to see another dragon after the last few days. Or smell one either.’
‘Wait till you smell the dragur. You might not mind the dragon so much after that!’
Edela’s eyes were like heavy weights, and the book’s texts and symbols were blurring before them. Biddy had lit every lamp in the cottage, but it made little difference, and eventually, Edela realised that she would need to get some sleep and hope for better luck in the morning.
Closing the book, she thought about the Widow, who she now knew had written the Book of Aurea. Not the Widow, she reminded herself, but Dara Teros.
Edela wondered where she had gone.
Whether Draguta had killed her sister, or if Dara would return to help them? Now would be a good time, Edela thought with a yawn, placing the book on the floor and easing herself out of the chair. Biddy had fallen asleep on her bed, she could see, though she had valiantly tried to stay by her side, keeping her company throughout the night. She had had a long day with Entorp and Runa, cleansing the ship sheds, though Edela knew that it was only the beginning. They would need more than herbs. More than moon-water and symbols.
Edela knew that what they needed most of all was to discover how Briggit Halvardar had thrown her curse.
Ayla watched Edela fall into bed. She could sense her determination to dream, and she needed Edela to dream more than anything. Ayla could feel the threads of her life disappearing; drifting away from her. She tried clinging to them, determined to fight, but the curse was stronger than she was. It was claiming her, pulling her down, away from where she needed to be.
But while she had any will left, she was going to fight for Bruno, and for herself, and for the life that was still waiting for them to start living.
She was going to go and find Briggit Halvardar.
Jael was lying in her old bed in her old bedchamber. The one she had grown up in and lived in with Aleksander until Lothar had thrown them out after moving his own family in. But despite the familiarity of the room, the welcome comfort of the bed, and the exhaustion of her aching body, Jael was struggling to still her mind.
It was late, she knew.
The hall was quiet. Ido and Vella lay on the end of the bed snuffling in their sleep, and other than the wind whining past the wall and the occasional scurrying mouse, Jael couldn’t hear a thing.
But she couldn’t make herself fall asleep.
She was haunted by the memory of holding Lyra in her arms; trying to remember every part of her face. Trying not to. Seeing Eadmund in that cottage with Draguta, wanting to know where he was. Knowing that it didn’t matter.
Listening for dragur.
Her mind was jumping, and her right hand was flexing, wanting to feel Toothpick. Wanting to run out into the night, grab Tig and ride until she found Draguta and Morana and Jaeger and killed all three of them before destroying the Book of Darkness.
She felt frustrated. Held hostage. Imprisoned.
And ultimately, she realised, tired. So, closing her eyes, Jael rolled onto her side, her arms wrapped around her oddly empty stomach, trying to find a dream.
Getta edged towards Raymon.
It was the first time she had sought his attention in days. He was both surprised and relieved.
‘You shouldn’t go to Rissna,’ she whispered. ‘It’s not safe.’
Raymon wished Getta wanted to talk about something else. Do something else. It had been too long since she’d let him touch her.
‘Do you think your cousins plan to kill me too?’ He felt irritable, keeping his hands to himself as he lay on his side, watching the shadows on her face dance in the flames from the lamps burning around their chamber.
Getta did not like to sleep in the dark, and though Raymon found it hard to sleep with so much light, he never complained.
‘I think Axl is not like his father or mine. From what I hear, he is ambitious. Not beholden to any previously held loyalties. Hungry for power. You don’t need to be a dreamer to see that. He killed two kings to claim that throne!’ Her voice rose sharply, her chest pumping furious breaths, but realising that a different approach was needed to bend Raymon to her will, Getta softened her voice. ‘I don’t want anything to happen to you, my love. This kingdom has never been kind to its kings. It’s a wonder anyone wants to sit on that cursed throne.’
Hearing the worry in her voice, Raymon reached for her hand. ‘Andala has been attacked by a serpent and a dragon. And now, maybe dragur too. If that is true, it’s not something we can ignore. We shouldn’t ignore it. I have to meet with them but don’t worry, I’ll be safe. Tolbert has organised bodyguards to watch over me. To guard my tent. We’ve already discussed it.’
Getta frowned as he moved closer. ‘But what of your men? They don’t want an alliance with Brekka, do they?’
Raymon sighed. His body had quickly turned to other thoughts. He didn’t want to talk about anything other than how much he had missed his wife. But Getta stuck out a hand, keeping him back. ‘I will think about it,’ he said. ‘I’ll talk to Tolbert. To my mother. I promise.’
Getta was not satisfied, but it was something. A start, perhaps. And with some gentle encouragement in the right direction, she was sure she could lead Raymon far away from the danger her cousins posed to them.
Raymon tried to edge towards her again, but Getta’s hand remained firmly in place. ‘I have only just given birth,’ she murmured before rolling over. ‘You must give me some time.’
Raymon felt both embarrassed and disappointed as he stared at the shadow of her back. ‘Of course,’ he said, almost to himself, trying to remember when he had last felt happy in his marriage.
Ayla hoped that Edela was watching. She hoped that she had managed to lead her here somehow, certain that the answers were in front of them now.
It was like nothing she had ever seen.
The seven women were naked, dancing inside an ancient stone circle, their long hair trailing behind them, bouncing up and down.
The moon was full and bright, and its beams painted their twisting, jerking bodies with a pale, dappled glow. They were calling. It sounded familiar, Ayla thought. She could make out some Old Tuuran: the language of the gods.
A tall bonfire sparked in the middle of the circle; hungry flames twisting, reaching towards the moon. Ayla looked on as the dancing stopped and one woman approached the fire. For the first time, Ayla noticed that the women weren’t alone. The stones were circled by rows of figures in dark, hooded robes. Silent figures standing shoulder to shoulder, hoods low, watching as the woman bent to the ground and picked up what looked like a bunch of herbs. She threw them onto the flames, calling to Raemus, her eyes flickering like a cat, intense and focused as she ran them over the robed figures.
Enjoying that they were watching.
She crouched again, and Ayla couldn’t see what she was doing, so she stepped closer until she was standing just behind her shoulder. The woman stood suddenly and turned around, and Ayla gasped, recognising Briggit Halvardar. She held something small in her hands and Ayla had
to squint to try and make it out. Not vellum, she thought, but some kind of animal skin. Symbols were marked on it in blood. Fresh. Dripping down onto the earth.
Briggit held the skin above her head, chanting, her eyes on the sky; dark clouds suddenly rushing above as her voice rose, filling the circle with a demanding cry. Ayla was suddenly aware of the throbbing roll of drums, and she felt herself stumble, everything blurring around her, worried that she was losing her hold on the dream.
And as Briggit finished her chant, she dropped to her knees again, folding up the tiny skin and placing it into a hole. Ayla bent closer to see what was happening. The small hole in the ground was filled with the bodies of... rats.
Three dead rats.
Briggit covered them over with dirt, picking up her knife and drawing a symbol across it before standing again. The naked women swayed back to her, taking her hands and leading her into a circle where once again they started dancing.
Ayla stepped back as everything swam around her. The noise was an undulating wave, and she could feel it trying to wash her away, but she held on tightly, digging her toes into the earth, lifting her head to the night sky where the sparks from the fire had made three enormous, golden symbols.
And, finally exhausted, Ayla closed her eyes, feeling everything slip away.
15
The banging on the door surprised Eadmund. The sun was barely up if the light coming down the smoke hole was any indication. He most certainly wasn’t up as he tried to move his aching limbs towards the edge of the bed in a hurry.
It didn’t surprise Draguta who was dressed and waiting by the door, opening it immediately. ‘Well, if it isn’t dear Evaine,’ she smiled, genuinely happy for the first time in days. ‘I had no doubt that you would make it here. No doubt at all!’