by A. E. Rayne
Gant was too busy kissing to answer her for a while, then he stopped and stared at her. ‘You’ve been missing Lothar?’ he asked with a grin.
‘I have not. Nor Ranuf. I’ve just been waiting for you.’
‘You have?’
‘Of course. I’m not blind. And Lothar wasn’t either. He knew how things stood. Why do you think he beat me that night?’
‘He beat you because of me?’ Gant was horrified.
‘He was suspicious. Jealous. And he had every reason to be,’ Gisila said, stroking Gant’s serious face, happy to forget all about her dead husbands. ‘After he died, I wondered how long it would take you to find your way here. Though I must admit, I wasn’t sure you ever would. You do tend to keep things close to your chest.’
‘I wish I’d come sooner,’ Gant breathed. ‘I wish I’d saved you from Lothar. From what those men did to you in Tuura.’
Gisila put a finger to his lips. ‘It’s done. All of it. And I’m not broken by it. I’m still here. Ranuf might have betrayed me, but I’m still here. And so are you. So don’t you dare think about leaving. Not tonight.’
Rollo could hear Draguta’s voice in his ears, urging him on.
He hadn’t slept, but he had been watching from the shadows as the men and women stumbled out of the hall, looking for somewhere to sleep. Most returned to their cottages and tents. The traders and their crews would return to their ships.
But not Rollo.
He had been waiting all night, watching the clouds as the wind picked up, pushing them across the moon, hiding him as he crept around the walls.
Waiting.
And now he just needed the signal.
Jael watched as the woman walked towards her.
Her white hair was straight, long, almost touching the floor, yet she did not appear old. Her cloak was black, and it shone as she walked, almost glittering like a sea under the sun. Everything but the woman was blurred, and Jael could feel a vibrating hum pulsing in her body as she waited.
‘Do you remember me?’ the woman asked, stopping, her hands resting by her sides.
Jael frowned, memories stirring. ‘I do.’
‘I have not visited you for some time, Jael, but I have always been around. Watching you. Your happiness and your pain. Your journey to becoming a woman, a warrior, and now, at last, a dreamer. But, of course, you were always a dreamer. I told you that once, do you remember?’
Jael swallowed. ‘I don’t know who you are.’
The woman grabbed her hands. ‘I am Dala, and you must hurry, Jael. Hurry! Now!’ And spinning around, she transformed into a sleek raven, cawing loudly, her cry echoing through the night as she turned her white eye towards Jael and flew away.
46
The howl lifted the hairs on the back of Eadmund’s neck. His senses were dulled by the smoke; twisted and turned by Morac’s mesmeric drumming, and Draguta’s rolling chants.
But the howl quickly sharpened his focus.
Where was it coming from?
His eyes were open, searching through the stones that surrounded them, but Eadmund couldn’t sense any movement.
Draguta was calling. Gripping his hand.
He could feel her, but he wanted to pull away. He needed to see what was coming. He had to keep her safe.
Eadmund froze.
There it was again.
And then he saw Jael’s face.
Jael rolled out of bed, blinking, trying to wake up as she wriggled her trousers on. Grabbing her mail shirt, she shrugged it over her head, feeling the weight of it pushing down her shoulders as she hurried to find her boots.
Gant was in the corridor when she opened the door.
Axl too; dressed for battle.
Jael shoved her helmet over her braids and hurried for the grey curtain.
‘Stay here,’ Gant said, turning to Gisila. ‘Stay in the hall.’ He smiled at her quickly before following Jael and Axl.
Runa came into the corridor, clutching Sigmund who was crying, woken by the terrifying noise.
There it was again.
‘What is it?’ Amma asked, shaking in her nightdress, fearing the answer. ‘Wolves?’
‘It’s not wolves!’ Aleksander called as he joined the race to the ramparts. ‘I know wolves better than I’d ever want to and that’s not wolves!’
Rork Arnesson was nodding as he joined them. ‘Sounds like a pack of dogs!’
Jael spun around as Ivaar came running. ‘Get the Islanders together! I want you all behind that wall! Now!’
Ivaar nodded and turned into the darkness.
Jael spotted Bram hobbling towards her. ‘Bram! Get every brazier going. Light up the square! Ulf! Help him! We need to see what we’re doing! Archers to the ramparts!’ And she quickened her pace, remembering Dala’s words.
Thorgils ran to catch up with her, still buckling his swordbelt. ‘Sounds like dogs!’
Jael didn’t say anything, and though it didn’t sound like any dog she’d ever heard, it definitely wasn’t wolves. She saw Fyn and Karsten running towards her. ‘Up to the ramparts!’ she cried. ‘Let’s see what’s going on!’
Dragmall sat back on his haunches, watching as Morana sucked in a long, rasping breath and propelled herself off the bed. She tumbled forward onto the old man, who held her up, helping her to stand.
Else bit her tongue in shock, quickly tasting blood.
‘Leave!’ Morana croaked, glancing at Else. ‘We need to leave!’
Everyone was hurrying to the western side of the fort. Rollo could see Jael Furyck with her men and archers up on the ramparts; the rest of her army rushing around the fort, lining up behind the half-built wall that bordered the valley.
The square was filled with noise and panic. Even the livestock were roused to life; sleepy ducks running after each other in a quacking flap; goats bleating.
Rollo ran to the harbour gates. ‘We need to let more men in!’ he cried to the guards. ‘The crews are out there! My men are out there! We’ve weapons. Let them in to help!’
One guard looked at the other, then called up to the men on the ramparts, who gave the signal to open the gates.
‘Hurry!’ they shouted. ‘Let them in!’
Rollo stood back as the guards lifted the wooden beam and dragged open the gates. His men nodded at him as they hurried into the fort, watching as the guards pushed the gates shut, quickly securing them again.
They were in. All of them.
Now they just had to find what they were looking for.
Runa tried to soothe a sobbing Sigmund, wondering where Tanja was, knowing that only milk from her would calm him down now. She swallowed, hoping that Fyn and Bram were safe.
Amma hurried back into her chamber to get dressed.
Gisila frowned at the screaming baby, wanting the noise to stop. She couldn’t think or hear what was happening outside. ‘I’ll get him a bit of honey water from the kitchen. You get dressed, Runa. We need to be ready.’ She could barely breathe with the panic coursing through her body, but panic wasn’t going to help get them through whatever was happening out there.
Swallowing as she hurried into the kitchen, Gisila hoped that her mother had found something in that book of hers.
‘No!’ Edela insisted as Biddy tried the door. ‘Keep it locked. I don’t want you going out there. We don’t know what that noise is!’
She was sitting close to the fire, searching through the Book of Aurea.
‘But Edela,’ Biddy panicked, turning back to her, pushing the wailing puppies off her legs. ‘If we don’t know what it is, how can you stop it?’
It was a good question, but Edela knew that leaving the cottage was too dangerous. She felt that strongly. ‘We’ll find out, won’t we, Eydis?’
Eydis was kneeling on the floorboards, her hand on Edela’s knee, nodding slowly. She was already slipping away. It was as if Dara Teros was taking her to where she needed to go. Closing her eyes, Eydis drifted into the darkness, immediately sensing something behind her.
> She could hear strained breathing.
Panting.
And turning around, Eydis saw a pair of red eyes staring at her.
Else felt too scared to move, but Dragmall couldn’t help both her and Morana, so she picked up her feet and kept ahead of them, leading the way out through the kitchen, away from the castle, worried that they were going to run into Draguta.
Worried that they didn’t need to run into Draguta for her to stop them.
But she kept running anyway.
Morana didn’t have enough energy to speak; her stiff body would barely move on its own. She just had to hope that Dragmall had been clever enough to think their escape through carefully.
If Draguta were to find them now...
‘Fyn! Aedan! Fire arrows!’ Jael called, wanting to see more. The clouds had swallowed the moon, and the valley was a big, black hole. She could feel rain streaking across her face, but it didn’t feel like a storm. And Jael had the feeling that no gods were coming to help them tonight.
The flaming arrows lit up the sky as another howl sent shivers racing up and down her spine. And then she saw the red eyes. All across the valley; moving pairs of glowing red eyes. Jael swallowed, turning to Gant whose mouth had fallen open. ‘The barsk! The barsk!’ she called, spinning back to the eyes that suddenly appeared to be moving at pace, heading for the wall. And then a loud rumbling spread across the valley as the barsk roared and charged. ‘Archers!’ Jael yelled. ‘Fire arrows! Nock! Light your arrows! Quickly! Fire at will!’ She turned to Gant and Axl. ‘You keep them busy up here. I need to be down at the wall. They’ll jump it!’
Draguta smiled. ‘Of course they’ll jump it, you useless woman. And more. They will tear your people to pieces. Limb by limb.’
Eadmund felt as though he was trapped in a nightmare. His eyes were closed, listening to Draguta’s voice echoing in his head. He couldn’t see her, but he could see Thorgils, Torstan, Fyn. Ivaar too.
And Jael was running towards all of them.
And the red-eyed, giant black dogs who were charging for the broken wall.
Eadmund shivered. He knew the barsk. They all knew the barsk from their nightmares. Odda would tell stories about those terrifying creatures to him and Thorgils when she wanted to punish them for being nuisances all day. Tales of those flesh-eating black dogs were guaranteed to have both of them waking up in tears.
Eadmund couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t swallow.
And then he heard Draguta laughing.
The banging on the door had Bayla screaming, shaking all over. The children were wailing, and she knew that she needed to be comforting and calming them, but she was frozen with terror.
She couldn’t move.
Berard was at the door quickly, one eye on his mother and Nicolene who blinked back at him with little confidence that he could do anything to protect them.
‘It’s Ulf!’ came the hoarse cry.
Bayla looked as though she was about to fall down as Berard pulled open the door and ushered Ulf inside. He hurried towards her, and she fell into his arms. ‘What is happening? What is out there? Ulf?’
‘It’s the barsk,’ he panted, feeling Bayla shudder against him. ‘We’re going to barricade ourselves in here. Lucky I didn’t find you a big cottage with lots of windows, so we’ve only got that one door to worry about.’ He pulled her out of his arms. ‘Nicolene, you sit over there with the children. All of you on one bed. Bayla, you help me. We’re going to move everything else behind that door. Berard, you stand guard.’
Bayla stared at him, not moving.
‘Now!’ Ulf barked, grabbing her arms. ‘Bayla! Help me! Now!’
Runa didn’t know the man.
‘Quick!’ he called. ‘We have to go!’
Another man came through the curtain and stood there beside him. He was smaller, with an eyepatch; his face covered in tattoos.
‘Who are you?’ Runa wondered, feeling her heart quicken. ‘Go where?’
Amma emerged from her chamber, fully dressed now. ‘What’s happening?’
‘The king sent us,’ the first man said, his eyes on the crying baby who was screaming louder than any child he’d ever heard. ‘We’re to take you out of here. To safety.’
Amma eyed the men. She didn’t move. ‘No. He wouldn’t do that. He’d send someone we know. We don’t know you.’
And she held her ground as the two men edged closer.
Draguta blinked in fury.
How was Amma Furyck not bound?
She had worked the spell herself. Used the girl’s clothes.
How was she not bound?
‘Take her!’ she cried. ‘There is no time! Take her now!’
The dogs were running towards the wall.
Trying to jump over the wall.
Bram had had men digging out the ditches around the fort, and they were deeper and wider than before the dragur attack, but the barsk jumped them effortlessly, slipping through the sharpened stakes, throwing themselves at the broken section of wall.
‘Archers!’ Jael screamed up to the ramparts, trying to remember everything she knew about the barsk. ‘Burn them!’ She was with her Islanders, behind the western wall. Axl was there too, his Andalans armed with swords and axes. And then the first one was in. ‘Spears!’ Jael yelled, spinning around, searching for Aleksander. ‘We need spears!’ And she swung Toothpick into the neck of a red-eyed dog who yelped, jerking away, teeth bared, drool flying, snapping back at her. Jael jabbed Toothpick through his throat, hearing his pained cry as he opened his jaw and froze, collapsing to the ground as she pulled out her blade.
‘Jael!’
Spinning around Jael saw Fyn.
He had been standing with the archers, firing arrows at the barsk, but the one charging him had three arrows sticking out of its body, not troubled in the slightest as he leapt at Fyn.
Thorgils got there before Jael could, shunting Fyn out of the way, letting the barsk come at him instead.
‘Thorgils!’ Jael sheathed Toothpick, drawing out her knife, throwing herself onto the back of the growling black dog who had flown onto Thorgils, sending him onto the ground with an almighty thump. She stuck her knife into the barsk’s neck, jerking back as his head spun around, fangs out, snarling at her. Pulling out the knife, Jael quickly moved it into her left hand, stabbing it into the dog’s red eye.
She fell away, rolling, up on her feet, watching the barsk drop to the ground. ‘Aim for their faces, Fyn!’ Jael growled as he nocked another arrow. ‘Headshots!’ And turning, she ran for Axl who had a barsk’s jaw clamped around his leg.
Edela couldn’t concentrate at all.
She kept asking Eydis the same question. ‘Are you sure?’
Biddy was becoming concerned. ‘Edela! She’s sure!’ The puppies were trembling and whimpering, and she was trying to keep everybody calm, but she wasn’t feeling very calm herself.
Edela could certainly hear the howling, and it made her hands shake as she held the book on her knee. ‘Here!’ she said, running her finger down the page. ‘This is it!’
All three heads suddenly snapped to the door as the handle creaked, slowly turning. The puppies ran to it, barking loudly.
‘Biddy,’ Edela whispered. ‘I don’t think that’s a barsk.’
Biddy swallowed, walking nervously towards the door. She stopped some distance before it. ‘Who’s there?’ she called, trying to strengthen her voice, looking around for some sort of weapon.
There was no answer.
And then they heard the first kick.
Biddy ran for the table, pushing it towards the door, but she was too late as the door flew open; coming off one of its newly repaired hinges. And there in the doorway stood an enormous, bald-headed man with the thinnest lips Biddy had ever seen.
‘No!’ Runa was gripping Sigmund as the tattooed man tried to rip him out of her arms. The bigger man had a rough, filthy hand over Amma’s mouth, not bothered by her wriggling and kicking.
He was i
mpatient. Irritated by the women and the screaming baby.
They had to leave. Now!
He knew there was an escape through the kitchen, leading away from the square so they wouldn’t be seen. They’d left some men inside the hall, seeing to anyone who got in the way.
The tattooed man finally ripped Sigmund out of Runa’s arms.
‘No! No!’ Runa yelled, lunging for him. ‘Help! Someone help!’
The man had Sigmund in his left arm, his right hand free to draw his sword, which he stabbed straight through Runa’s chest, watching horror bloom in her eyes as she tumbled backwards, choking on her scream. He drew out his bloody sword as the man next to him tightened his hand over Amma’s mouth. He could feel her trembling, desperate to escape, but he wasn’t letting their prize go.
Turning, they headed down the corridor towards the kitchen, where Gisila stood waiting.
‘What are you doing?’ she yelled, her legs shaking, her heart pounding. She held an axe in both hands. It was sharpened daily, used to chop firewood, but what she could do with it, Gisila didn’t know.
Ranuf had tried to teach her once, but she’d shown little interest in it.
But now?
She thought of Gant, desperate for him to appear. ‘No!’ she yelled again, lifting her neck, trying to straighten her shoulders. ‘Release them! Let them go!’
‘Or what?’ The tattooed man holding a wailing Sigmund snarled, running his eyes over her figure. Gisila Furyck was a little scrawny for his taste, but she was still a fine woman. He’d watched her all night in the hall. A very beautiful lady indeed.
His companion was less inclined to waste time, knowing the baby’s noise would draw people’s attention before long. ‘Kill the bitch and let’s go! We have to go!’