by A. E. Rayne
Reaching the top of the steps, Draguta stopped and turned around, holding her breath, a smile teasing the corners of her red lips.
‘Your father has been worried about you, Evaine,’ Jaeger said, watching her closely, pleased by how terrified she looked as her eyes darted from him to Eadmund, and back again. ‘So very worried. We were all... surprised that you tried to steal the book. It is not what I expected. After all we’ve been through together, you and I.’
Evaine swallowed, not wanting him to say any more. She felt Eadmund come close, wrapping an arm around her.
‘And here’s Eadmund Skalleson,’ Jaeger smiled slyly. ‘At long last. Evaine was starting to think you weren’t coming, my lord.’
Eadmund’s body tensed, unsettled by Jaeger’s snake-like words and Evaine’s discomfort, but noticing Draguta staring at them, he blinked, ushering Evaine forward, ignoring Jaeger entirely.
Rollo followed after them, nodding briefly at Jaeger, not sure how to act at all.
Jaeger watched them go, his mind busy with thoughts of Evaine in the winding gardens. Her screams. The feel of her delightful, squirming body. He remembered Draguta warning him away; Jael Furyck stabbing him through the ankles. He felt the pain and pleasure meld together in a most arousing way, and turning, he snapped at the stable hands who hadn’t moved. ‘What are you gaping at? Get these horses to the stables now!’
The rain started falling as soon as they left the fort behind, but it stayed warm, so the great army of Brekka steamed in their armour as they marched towards Rissna. It would take two days to get there. Two days of solid rain by the look of the sky, Jael thought miserably, feeling the water dripping down from her hair into her eyes. She didn’t usually mind the rain. Rain was a gift from the gods. Rain meant a good harvest and water to drink. But rain when you were lying in your comfortable bed, buried beneath layers of furs, your cold feet warming on your husband’s, was always preferable.
The rain had stopped conversation as most hunched over, trying to keep the water out of their eyes and mouths, so Jael’s mind kept wandering in the silence. There were the things she needed to think about, like Raymon Vandaal and Briggit Halvardar. There was Draguta and Morana and Evaine too. Sometimes her mind drifted towards Eadmund, and she wondered where he was.
But mostly the rain made her think about her daughter.
It cascaded down her cheeks like tears, and she remembered the pain of giving birth; the even greater pain of losing her baby.
The guilt.
The burning anger and bleak sadness.
And Jael knew that not one part of her would feel right again until she made Draguta pay for all of it.
25
It was awkward.
Everyone could feel the tension in the hall, except, perhaps, Draguta, who was so pleased to be sitting on the dragon throne again that she didn’t want to think about anything else. She was determined to look forward, not back to that night when she had been killed by those disloyal to her.
But, of course, they had all been disloyal, she reminded herself, except Evaine, who was too self-involved to care about anything other than Eadmund.
‘And how is the wine?’ Draguta asked as she stood and came to join the small gathering. ‘Better than anything you had in Flane, I imagine?’
Rollo wondered if he should be polite. ‘I prefer ale,’ he said, deciding against it. ‘If you’ve got some of that?’ And he looked down at his fancy goblet with a grimace, his throat burning.
Draguta laughed, enjoying his frankness. ‘You, girl!’ she snapped at a slave. ‘Bring Rollo, here, some ale.’
Rollo glanced at Eadmund, who smiled, though he didn’t really feel like smiling. His dreams of Oss were rushing around his head, and he clenched his jaw, trying to remind himself of where he was. But when he looked around the hall, he saw Jael, and he remembered his time in Hest with her.
Draguta didn’t notice how disturbed Eadmund was becoming. Her mind was skipping ahead, wanting to get to her chamber, eager to feel silk against her skin again. She would need to speak to the tailor to organise more dresses. Her days of looking like a peasant were over.
It was time to reclaim her rightful place.
And then more.
‘Shall we go?’ she purred, taking Jaeger’s arm.
He looked pleased but confused. ‘Go?’
‘To see my book, of course,’ she sighed happily. ‘I have work to do, and there is no time to waste!’
‘Is Evaine here?’ Morac asked, panicking as much as everyone else.
Meena nodded. ‘In the hall, with Eadmund Skalleson.’
Morac wondered what would happen when Eadmund found out what Jaeger had done to Evaine, but in the meantime, the more pressing problem was what Draguta would do to all of them. He turned to Morana who sat helplessly on her chair, unable to help them or herself.
‘There is nothing you can do now,’ Else said, attempting to sound calm, but feeling her heart jumping about wildly. ‘Except, perhaps, think of how to be useful.’
Meena swallowed, trying to stop herself from tapping her head.
‘Draguta is a lady. A queen. A grand witch. Surely she does not want to do her own scraping about? Digging out plants and grinding potions?’ Else muttered, thinking quickly. ‘She needs people to help her, doesn’t she? Like you told her in that dream. To do all those things she doesn’t want to do herself. Skinning animals? Cutting up the poor creatures? All that blood...’ Else’s imagination was running away with her.
The thought of helping Draguta again made Meena shake all over. She glanced at Morana who she could almost feel trying to burst out of her prison. She looked so pathetic that it was easy to feel sorry for her, but Meena forced herself to remember how evil Morana was as well.
Yet, with Draguta back, she would soon be dead.
Morana blinked in desperation, pleading with her eye.
Pleading to be set free.
Else squeezed Meena’s hand. ‘You’re a dreamer. Useful to Draguta. She will see the wisdom in keeping you alive, don’t worry.’
Morac looked at his blinking sister and turned to the door. ‘Meena, why don’t you come with me? We can face her together, and I need to make sure Evaine is alright.’
Meena nodded reluctantly, shivers rippling through her body like ice-cold waves.
Karsten rode along with no one to talk to. His men did not like him, though they’d fought the dragur bravely beside him, following his commands. Berard was back in Andala with Bayla, Nicolene and five children, which, Karsten decided, was worse than suffering through a two-day march in what appeared to be a never-ending rain shower. And every other person he knew was in Hest with his traitorous brother, where he should have been instead of riding to Rissna begging a boy king for some men. They had men; more than enough men, Karsten thought, turning around and running his eye over the winding worm of warriors who looked as miserable and wet as he felt.
More than enough.
‘Enjoying the weather?’ Thorgils grinned as he rode up alongside Karsten. He’d been further back with Torstan, and now he was going to make his way up to Jael to see how she was.
‘Well, it’s not Hest,’ Karsten grumbled. ‘And it’s not warm.’
Thorgils laughed. ‘Come to Oss sometime. This is a heat wave!’
He didn’t move forward, and Karsten peered at him. ‘Why are you so happy, then? Going to this pointless meeting? Leaving the fort vulnerable? If we’re leaving it behind, it should be to go to Hest. We’ve enough men.’
Thorgils looked surprised. ‘You think so? After our visitors the other night? We could barely contain them, even with all that sea-fire helping us!’
Karsten snorted. ‘And you think a few hundred men will make a difference? We don’t need an army of warriors. We need an army of dragur!’
‘We do,’ Thorgils agreed, squeezing the rain from his beard. ‘But now they’re ash, so we’ll just have to try our luck with humans. Unless Jael can find a way to get us a dragon
or two?’ Thorgils eyed Karsten, listening to his barely concealed mutterings. ‘Why do you hate Jael so much? She gave your family a home. Took you in. Brought you into her army.’
Karsten squeezed the rain from his own long beard which hung down his chest like a hairy, wet towel. ‘Best I keep my thoughts about Jael Furyck to myself, you being so friendly with her.’
‘Your brother likes her,’ Thorgils said. ‘And he seems like a wise man to me. It’s going to be a long few days. Maybe you’ll get a chance to think about it. We’re not enemies anymore, and if we keep thinking we are, it’s going to make victory harder to come by, I’d say.’ And Thorgils nudged Rufus ahead of Karsten’s horse, spotting Jael and Aleksander through the rain which had suddenly started teeming down.
Before Jaeger could open the door to his chamber, Meena appeared in the corridor, Morac trailing after her.
Meena saw Draguta and Jaeger and froze, her boots stuck to the floor, her legs wobbling with the sheer terror of what was about to happen. She wanted to turn around and run in the opposite direction, but she could feel Morac’s hand on her back, pushing her forward.
Draguta cocked her head to the side and smiled. ‘Ahhh, if it isn’t the little mouse who tried to kill me. How well you look, girl. Positively glowing with life!’
Jaeger turned to Meena, feeling his chest tighten. He didn’t want Draguta to hurt her. Surely he was just as responsible for what had happened in the hall?
Meena shuddered, edging closer, Morac’s hand moving away now.
Reaching Draguta, she dropped her eyes, bobbing her head. ‘I... I am sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘I... I...’ She was too scared to speak. Her words were in knots, and she was shaking too much to try and untangle them. Eventually, she forced herself to look up, meeting Draguta’s eyes.
Draguta threw back her head and laughed. ‘You are sorry? Ha!’ She glanced at Morac, whose narrow face had blanched; he didn’t know what was about to happen. ‘You are sorry you killed me? Well, that is the funniest thing I’ve heard, girl! It is not something one often hears, is it? I am so sorry I killed you? Hahaha!’
Meena knew that Draguta’s laughter would not last.
Her eyes were so cold.
Draguta did stop laughing as she reached out her long arm, wrapping her hand around Meena’s throat and yanking her forward with a surprising show of strength. Meena was quickly off her feet, feeling nothing beneath her boots. ‘And how will you show me you’re sorry, girl? What will you do for me? How will you convince me that I need you?’
Meena blinked at Jaeger, seeing the terror in his eyes; her own eyes bursting as she tried to breathe.
Draguta was holding her suspended in the air.
She couldn’t speak.
Eventually, Draguta lowered her to the flagstones, realising that she could hardly expect answers from the girl when she was unable to talk. She loosened her hold on Meena’s throat ever so slightly. ‘Tell me. Tell me now before I stop your heart beating. Tell me before I twist the air from your lungs. Before I drop you like a stone, straight into the Dolma. Would you like it?’ She inhaled Meena’s fear, closing her eyes. ‘The darkness? The cold?’ Her eyes burst open, watching Meena jerk in terror. ‘No. I’ve seen how that would go for you. You wouldn’t like it at all, girl.’
‘I can help your...’ Meena spluttered, choking. ‘Spells. I can help your spells. Your lists. I can... gather what you need. Make your potions. Be your... assistant.’
Draguta smiled suddenly, her face changing like a sky of storm clouds revealing a golden sun. ‘Of course you can! And you will! I will be needing an assistant, and without poor Morana, who do I have to rely upon but you and Brill?’ She leaned forward, peering at Meena who now looked like a fish out of water: all bulging eyes and gulping mouth. ‘You have learned your lesson, then? About what a mistake it would be to try and deceive me? To betray me?’ Draguta was peering into Meena’s very soul, looking for answers, watching as she nodded and trembled, twitching all over. ‘How pointless it would be to try and kill me again? How futile?’
Meena’s nodding was vigorous.
‘Good,’ Draguta said. ‘Then come along into Jaeger’s chamber, and we shall see how well you have been looking after my beloved book.’ And releasing Meena, she inclined her head towards the door, following after Jaeger who was already hurrying towards it.
Morac stood watching them go, frozen to the spot.
‘You needn’t be afraid, Eydis,’ Edela smiled as they walked to the tents to check on Ayla and Bruno. She wanted to see how Hanna was and speak to Entorp too. His patients were decreasing steadily, but he would not rest until they were all back in their own beds, though Edela hoped she could convince him to stop for a while. ‘The Book of Aurea is a powerful weapon, and once we learn how to wield it, we will be a match for Draguta and whatever ghoulish creature she sends our way next.’
But Eydis was not frightened of the creatures as much as she was about what Draguta would do to her brother. ‘I want another dream about Eadmund. To see how he is,’ she said. ‘When I think of him it’s as though he is lost in a storm. A blizzard. And the snow is powerful and loud, blowing around me so much that I can’t find him anywhere. Sometimes I see him or hear his voice, but then he is swept away.’
Edela looked sad, then her face lightened. ‘There is hope for Eadmund in the Book of Aurea, isn’t there? A way to break the spell? So perhaps instead of dreaming about Eadmund, you could dream of finding the answer in the book? A way to save him? You’re connected to that book, Eydis, through Dara Teros. She is your ancestor, I’m sure. You can find your way to the right page through your dreams, just as you did when the dragur came. But you must clear your mind of panic. Panic is a dreamer’s enemy. Panic tightens our bodies and our minds. It stops us breathing. It stops us dreaming. It creates walls around our thoughts, so that the only things that enter our mind are our fears. You must let go of your panic, and the dreams will come. The way to help Eadmund will reveal itself if you can stay calm and believe. Believe that we will find the answer.’
Eydis could feel the tension across her shoulders, and the ache behind her eyes; the heaviness in her legs. She tried to let it all drift away as she walked, determined to open up her mind.
Determined to find a way to help her brother.
Evaine sobbed in Morac’s arms.
She couldn’t help it, and though she felt like a child, she didn’t care. It had been a terrifying time, and she longed to feel safe again, though Morac appeared to be shaking so much that when she stepped away from him and looked at his face, she only felt more worried. ‘Perhaps we should go?’ she whispered, glancing towards the stairs. ‘Leave Hest? Go back to Oss?’ Rollo had left with the servant who had been tasked with finding him a bed for the night.
Eadmund had disappeared to find a latrine.
Morac looked keen, but then his face fell. ‘We would not be welcomed back on Oss. On any of the islands. Not now.’
‘Then we take a ship,’ Evaine suggested. ‘Go to the Fire Lands. Disappear. Somewhere Draguta can’t find us.’
‘And what of your son?’
Evaine sighed. ‘How do you expect me to get him back? He is in Andala. I can’t go there.’
‘And Eadmund?’
Evaine looked around, but there was no sign of anyone; just a few slaves preparing the tables. ‘Eadmund is... different,’ she murmured, unsettled when she saw his face in her mind now. ‘He is mine, but Draguta’s also.’
Morac was confused. ‘Draguta’s?’
‘She has done something to Eadmund and Jaeger. Made them loyal to her in some way. Eadmund is different than he was before.’ Evaine lowered her voice even further. ‘She put a spell on Jaeger. I saw her do it. I think she did the same thing to Eadmund. He will not leave her, I’m sure. She wants him for something. That’s why Rollo’s here.’
Morac looked confused, not knowing who Rollo was. ‘But what about Morana?’ he wondered. ‘What will she do to Morana?’
‘I don’t know. But whatever it is, I don’t imagine it will be pleasant.’
Morana kept staring at the door. It hurt her head to move her eye too much, so she tried to keep it still, fixed straight ahead. Waiting. Knowing that at any moment, Draguta would open it and kill her. And she would not make it fast. Or painless. She would want to savour her revenge; to taste every last drop of it.
It would not be fast.
Morana wanted to close her eyes. She wanted to scream. Else kept humming to herself as she stirred the cauldron over the fire. It smelled disgusting, and soon she would be spoon fed whatever slop she had made.
Like a baby.
There was nothing Morana could do to help herself. Not a single thing.
Except think, she realised. And fight to reclaim her dreams.
If there was time.
Morana tried to sigh, but her body wouldn’t even give her that relief. Finally, she managed to close her eyes, eager to disappear inside herself; listening to the beating of her heart thudding in her ears like a horse running.
Running away.
Draguta ran her hands over the Book of Darkness, her eyes closed, feeling completely alone, though Jaeger and Meena were there, she knew.
They meant nothing, though. They were useful instruments, but ultimately dispensable.
Jaeger would run her kingdom, build her ships, grow her army.
Meena would slave over her potions, dig in the gardens, do her bidding.
But there would come a point when neither of them would be needed.
‘Your wife is pregnant,’ she said suddenly, looking up, her eyes snapping to Jaeger’s. ‘It is your child. A Dragos heir. A son. You will need to go to Andala and retrieve her when the time is right, wouldn’t you say? Return her to your bed? Surely you cannot abide the shame of it much longer? Having your wife stolen from you by a boy as weak as Axl Furyck? And such a pretty thing she is too, if not a little dull and pathetic. But she will give birth to a strong son. I see that. Your heir.’