Vale of the Gods

by A. E. Rayne

  Death. Death hung over them.

  Death that had been. Death that would come.

  Fyn didn’t want to speak.

  So Jael did. ‘When I was in Harstad with Thorgils and Aleksander,’ she began. Gripping the reins tighter, she could feel her lips wobble. It was only real if she talked about it, so she hadn’t talked about it to anyone. Not since her mother. And barely then. ‘I nearly died.’

  Fyn nodded. He knew that.

  Then hearing the odd tremble in Jael’s voice, he turned to her, certain there were tears in her eyes, suddenly curious. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I had a baby.’

  The look on Fyn’s face was one of horror and surprise.

  ‘She died. She was... small. Too small.’ Jael blinked. ‘Edela saw that she’d come in the winter. It was not her time. She was already dead when she was born.’

  Fyn wanted to reach out and touch Jael, but she was too far away.

  ‘Aleksander made her a pyre, and I said goodbye to her. And I never even saw her eyes. I never heard her voice or saw her smile. Nothing. And the pain...’ Jael bit her lip. ‘It is deep, and I want to hide from it.’ She grinned suddenly, shaking her head. ‘I am hiding from it.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Jael.’ Fyn’s eyes were more alert than they had been in days. ‘So sorry.’

  ‘What I’m trying to say, Fyn, is that I can feel your pain. I know what it felt like to lose my baby. What it feels like worrying about Gisila. And I’m sorry for you. Grief is hard to bear. The loss of someone you love... it’s so final...’ She didn’t want to go on.

  Fyn retreated into himself again, letting his hair fall over his face. ‘My mother was so worried about me. Always wanting me to be safe, but I didn’t stop to think about her,’ he sniffed, tears coming like a flood. ‘I didn’t stop to think about whether she was safe!’

  ‘No, none of us did. We thought the threat was outside the fort, not in it.’ Jael edged Tig towards Alf. ‘But now we know. And when we leave, we’ll do what we can to keep everyone safe.’ She felt a dull ache in her stomach, that voice echoing in her ears again. ‘We’ll do everything we can. Everything.’

  Fyn looked into Jael’s eyes, seeing her pain for a brief moment before it vanished, replaced by that familiar look of determination. He nodded. ‘I don’t want to lose Bram too.’ It was barely a whisper; he was almost too shy to admit it.

  Jael smiled. ‘No, me neither, but don’t worry, there’s plenty of time to sort the fort out before we leave. Now, come on, it looks like it’s about to piss down.’ And clicking her tongue, she tapped her boots against Tig’s flanks, urging him ahead of Alf, her ears open, listening for whatever threat might be coming next.

  Brill almost had to drag Meena down the stairs, into the hall. She had made such a stuttering fuss about having to see Draguta that Brill was worried she was simply going to run out of the castle, which would not please her mistress at all.

  And, Brill knew, it wouldn’t help Meena.

  Draguta had a way of finding everyone.

  Almost everyone.

  ‘You came!’ Draguta smiled, her red lips glistening as she sat up straighter on the tall dragon throne, smoothing her white dress over her knees. ‘I was growing so worried, thinking you would simply fade away up in that chamber.’ She narrowed her ice-blue eyes as Meena approached, her voice dropping to a throaty growl. ‘Or run away.’

  Meena gulped, unsure whether she should attempt to look at Draguta, or just keep her eyes on her boots. She was unsure what to do with her hands either which were jerking uncontrollably in front of her new dress. Eventually, she grabbed one and held them both over her stomach, trying to keep her mind clear, her head bent, hair tumbling over her face like red brambles.

  Draguta stood, leaving the throne behind. ‘Meena, Meena, my little Meena,’ she cooed. ‘How did you end up like this, I wonder? You are not the ugliest girl I have ever seen, yet you look as though you were raised in a cave by a family of trolls!’ She circled Meena whose eyes jumped wildly, not knowing when Draguta would lunge at her, but certain that, eventually, she would.

  Her experience with Varna and Morana had taught her that.

  ‘Morana...’ Draguta purred, digging beneath Meena’s hair, lifting her chin.

  Meena shivered.

  ‘Morana is gone! And neither of us are sad about that, are we? In fact, I imagine we are both thrilled by her sudden disappearance.’ She stopped, peering down at Meena’s bulging eyes. ‘Wouldn’t you say?’

  Meena didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what she thought.

  But she did know what she thought of Morana.

  ‘Yes.’

  Draguta laughed, straightening up. ‘Thanks to you. Thanks to you, Morana is gone!’

  Meena’s eyes were quickly back on her boots, trying to keep her mind clear of everything but the gaping holes in them.

  ‘You did so well. So well indeed!’

  Meena looked up, too confused to be scared now, her mouth hanging open.

  ‘Oh! You didn’t realise that the voice in your head was me? Me telling you about the ship in the cove? About Dragmall and his special tea? About where to go and what to do and what to think and say? All me! Ha! Well, I suppose there was a reason I chose Fool’s Cove to send you to!’ And laughing some more, Draguta turned back to the throne, her mood jubilant.

  Morana had run away as she’d hoped, thanks to a malleable Meena. Jaeger and Eadmund were on their way to destroying Helsabor and retrieving Briggit Halvardar and her vermin Followers. Jael Furyck was broken and weak and...

  She frowned, sitting down.

  None of it meant anything while her sister was still in the wind.

  Alive and hiding.

  Draguta drummed her fingers on the skull armrests, irritated, trying to convince herself that soon her sister would have no choice but to reveal herself.

  No choice at all.

  Ayla almost wished that Bruno hadn’t recovered from the sickness so quickly. If he were still bed-bound, she would have been able to avoid him. To not have to see him as she tended to the wounded and did what she could to help Edela prepare for the army’s departure. But once he was on his feet, Bruno had been determined to follow her around, hoping to be of use, wanting her to speak to him again.

  Ayla was finding it hard to even look at her husband.

  It was childish, she knew, but Bruno had hidden so much of who he was from her that it felt as though their marriage had been a lie. She could sympathise with the loss of his sister, but she couldn’t understand why Bruno hadn’t told her about the prophecy.

  About how he had stolen it.

  Sold it.

  Ayla frowned as he approached with a basket.

  ‘Biddy thought you might need something bigger,’ Bruno smiled weakly, hobbling towards her. He had been on his feet all day, and though his body was urging him to find a bench, he wasn’t about to listen. He’d had enough of sitting down while everyone else worked.

  Ayla took the basket, placing it on the dirt beside her. ‘Thank you.’ She turned back to the garden where she was harvesting salvia and mugwort. They were filling Edela’s cottage with supplies for teas and spells, dream walking herbs too; anticipating what they would need to do to help protect the fort from Draguta; well aware of how vulnerable they were going to be once Jael left.

  ‘Shall I help?’ Bruno wondered, bending down beside her.

  Ayla didn’t look up. ‘You won’t know what to do with these plants. It takes a skilled hand.’

  Bruno smiled, trying not to let his wife’s sharpness dissuade him. ‘I can see that, but you could show me.’

  Ayla sat back on her heels with a sigh, brushing hair out of her eyes with the back of a dirty hand. ‘There’s too much to do to have this conversation, Bruno. Too much. I don’t want to talk now. I want to focus. I need my thoughts clear. I want my head free of anything but what I need to find. What will help us stay safe. We are all in such terrible danger. The sun is shinin
g, and everyone is walking around, carrying out their tasks, but Draguta could attack us at any time, so I can’t be worrying about you. I can’t be fighting with you.’

  Bruno dropped his head, admitting defeat. ‘Makes sense,’ he mumbled, struggling back to his feet. ‘I’ll go and find Bram and Ulf, then. I’m sure they could use another pair of hands.’

  Ayla felt terrible, watching as he turned and limped away, seeing how much of a struggle it was for him just to walk. But she didn’t move. She didn’t go after him. She couldn’t. There was too much to do.

  ‘Well, I don’t suppose I need to ask how things are going?’ came a familiar voice.

  Ayla spun around, embarrassed. ‘I’m... it’s hard.’

  ‘I imagine it is. And I’m sorry for my part in it.’ Edela wobbled down to the dirt beside Ayla. ‘But I think that, eventually, the truth brings us closer together.’

  ‘Or perhaps it pushes us further apart?’ Ayla sighed, shaking the dirt from her hands, wiping them on her apron. ‘Has something happened? Is it Gisila?’

  Edela smiled. ‘Gisila has opened her eyes! She is in a lot of pain, but I think, with Entorp’s help, she is going to be alright.’

  ‘Oh, Edela, I’m so happy about that.’

  ‘Yes, so am I. But that is not why I came. I’ve been having strange dreams, and I need your help with them.’

  Ayla was quickly frowning again.

  ‘Draguta has sent Eadmund to attack Angard. Eadmund and Jaeger Dragos.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘And I need to know why. Jael is about to leave for Hest. I need to know everything I can so we can help her. So she knows what might be coming.’

  ‘Of course. I will see what I can find out. I seemed to slip into Briggit’s world easily while I was ill. I will try again tonight.’

  Edela smiled. ‘Good! Now, how about you leave me here. I’ll gather in the rest of the salvia, and you can go and find that husband of yours. He’s a good man, Ayla. I can feel that. And you were without him for so long. Life is short, as poor Runa showed us. We don’t know what’s hiding around the corner, so my advice is to make the most of the time you have. We all should.’

  Ayla ducked her head, nodding it. ‘I’ll try. Thank you, Edela, I will try.’ And rising to her feet, she took a deep breath, feeling the heaviness in her shoulders threaten to push her back down, knowing that she had to find a way to forgive her husband before it was too late.

  Eadmund didn’t feel comfortable.

  He was surrounded by Hestians. Men he didn’t know. Men he was sure he wouldn’t like if he did know them.

  Men who weren’t loyal to him.

  He missed his Islanders: Thorgils and Torstan; Beorn and Arlo; Fyn and Bram.

  Jael.

  They had left Kroll early, after a quick breakfast of smoked pork and salt fish, which had left him both hungry and nauseous. Now, Jaeger was leading them towards Tokka, a small settlement near the coast, positioned in the shadow of Helsabor’s wall, from where they would begin their assault on Briggit Halvardar’s kingdom. Draguta had changed her mind about wanting to separate her kings, deciding that it made more sense for Eadmund to keep an eye on Jaeger. Though, how it was all going to work, Eadmund still wasn’t sure. They didn’t have ships, and the terrain was too mountainous to take any form of siege engine with them, so they would be relying on Draguta to protect them from whatever trouble the Followers would make once their attack began.

  Turning back around, Eadmund inclined his head for his second-in-command, an older man named Berger, to come alongside. He reminded Eadmund of Gant: a grey-haired, experienced warrior, economical with his words but sharply attuned to everything happening around him. A man, he was sure, prepared to counter any attack within moments.

  They were navigating a narrow path that snaked around the edge of jagged red-rock mountains. For the first time in hours, there was enough room to ride two abreast and Eadmund was eager to get Berger onside.

  ‘My lord?’ Berger’s lips were hidden beneath his coppery-grey beard, as though he was sucking them in, not wanting to speak to Eadmund at all. He shielded his eyes from the sun with one hand, masking those too.

  ‘How long would you say till we’re at Tokka?’

  ‘We’re over halfway there, lord. If we keep to this pace, two more nights and we should arrive outside the wall.’

  ‘And will it be like this all the way?’ Eadmund wondered, staring into the distance, noticing that the path was narrowing again. And rising.

  ‘No, my lord, it will get much steeper. Narrower too. Best you keep to the cliffside. Hold your reins tight, keep your horse calm, and pray there’s no more rain. It’s already slippery underfoot.’

  Eadmund couldn’t help but glance up, searching for clouds, but for the first time on their journey, there were none to find in a sky that was blue and clear, stretching across them all like a bright cloak.

  Bobbing his head, Berger shrunk back into his saddle, hoping that would be the end of it.

  It wasn’t.

  ‘Stay alert,’ Eadmund warned, nudging his horse ahead. ‘Eyes everywhere. Dreamers are watching. Dreamers who know how to make dragons come to life, and turn ravens into weapons. Wolves and serpents too. Eyes everywhere.’

  Frowning, Berger let Eadmund slip ahead, gathering his own horse’s reins tighter, feeling his shoulders rise as he lifted his head, checking the sky.

  No one was alright.

  Everyone was walking around with tired and grainy eyes, wrapped in bandages. Broken limbs. Broken hearts. Stumbling around a broken fort.

  No one was alright.

  ‘Jael’s not right.’ Gant turned to Aleksander, listening to the growl of his empty stomach. He knew he wasn’t eating enough, but between worrying about Gisila and the fort, and supervising preparations for their departure, he’d been struggling to care about food at all.

  Aleksander’s eyes remained on Jael who was deep in conversation with Thorgils, both of them leaning over the railings of the training ring. They were putting the Islanders through their paces, trying to focus everyone, though most were still struggling to cope with what had just happened: the dragon, the dragur, the barsk. ‘No, she’s not. She’s having nightmares.’

  Gant frowned. ‘Understandable with what she’s been through lately.’ He glanced around, but they were alone. ‘With the baby. With Gisila.’

  ‘She’s dreaming about Ronal Killi.’

  ‘Ronal? That little shit. Why?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Aleksander’s frown was as deep as Gant’s. ‘He terrorised her for years. She didn’t tell you or Ranuf. I don’t think she even told me everything, but I think it was bad.’

  Gant was surprised by that; surprised to think that Jael had ever been bothered by anyone. From the time she’d had a sword in her hand, she’d been unstoppable, not intimidated by men or boys. ‘But she killed him. He got what he deserved. After he killed Asta, she ended him.’

  ‘She did,’ Aleksander agreed, though he’d always thought there was more to the story than Jael had ever let on. He sighed, realising that he was trying to distract himself from what lay ahead of them by continually looking backwards.

  His eyes wandered to Jael, and he knew why. For all that had happened to push them apart, he was still struggling to let her go, to see a future without her in it. It was the last thing he needed to think about he realised with a shake of his head.

  Jael watched Gant and Aleksander, knowing that they were talking about her. Worrying about her.

  She didn’t blame them. She felt worried too.

  Since the night of the barsk attack – when Gisila was stabbed, and Runa was killed, and Sigmund and Amma were taken – it had felt as though she was crossing a frozen lake. And as much as she knew that she had to, not one part of her wanted to keep going forward.

  Thorgils was talking so quickly that she’d barely been listening until something jumped out. ‘What? What do you mean, stay here?’

  Thorgils’ face
reddened. ‘I just think that... even with the wall finished, we’re going to need some warriors, good warriors, to defend everyone. After what happened to Runa, I...’

  Jael could sense his fear for Isaura. ‘Agreed. And we’ll have them.’

  ‘Bram can’t lead them. He’s not strong enough yet. Runa’s death has hit him hard.’

  ‘No, he can’t. But nor can you.’

  Thorgils squirmed.

  Jael frowned. ‘I need you, Thorgils Svanter. You have to come.’

  ‘I...’

  ‘You do realise that being your queen, I can make you.’

  Thorgils lifted an eyebrow. ‘Is that so? And you’d try that, would you?’

  Jael smiled. ‘No. No, I wouldn’t. Only those who want to should come. I just thought you’d be one of those who’d want to.’

  Their attention was diverted to the ring as Fyn jabbed his sword at Torstan’s chest, knocking him to the ground.

  Jael’s eyes sprung open in surprise. ‘Keep that up!’ she called, enjoying the scowl on Torstan’s face as he scrambled to his feet, dusting off his tunic, crouching, ready for more. ‘And what about Fyn?’ she wondered, turning back to Thorgils. ‘He’s going to need you.’

  Thorgils grew even more uncomfortable.

  ‘Not to mention Eadmund.’

  ‘Alright, alright!’ he grumbled, holding up a hand. ‘I surrender. I’ll come. I’ll come!’

  ‘Of course you’ll come,’ Jael grinned. ‘I never doubted it. Now, you keep an eye on that lot, and I’ll go see how the wall’s coming along. Looks like we’re only a few days away from having it finished!’ And she turned away before Thorgils could see the worry in her eyes.

  The worry that they weren’t ready for what they were about to face.

  Wall or not.

  Once she had welcomed Meena back into the fold, Draguta had been reluctant to let her go, for despite being such a pathetic creature, she was very useful. In more ways than Meena had even been aware of herself.