Vale of the Gods

by A. E. Rayne

  Draguta smiled from her rickety stool, watching as Meena stirred the cauldron. ‘That’s the way. We have a busy time ahead of us, you and I. The sooner those potions are ready, the sooner you’ll be able to rest, so keep going, even though your arm is breaking. Keep going, little mouse, we’re nearly there!’

  Meena’s eyes bulged, reminded of Morana, wondering why Draguta had let her escape. Draguta’s eyes were suddenly sharper, and Meena blinked, her attention quickly back on the cauldron.

  They were in Morana’s chamber, Draguta not wanting the potions to infuse her bedchamber with their foul odours. They had been there for hours, and Meena was growing faint with hunger. It had been days since she had eaten properly, and likely days before that, she realised. And the suffocating heat in the chamber with the fire going...

  Meena tried to catch her breath as she leaned against the wooden spoon, stirring the dark bubbling liquid.

  Draguta smiled, standing. ‘I shall leave you now, and you shall attempt to stay upright. I would hate to come back and find you swimming in that cauldron, girl. You wouldn’t want to know what that potion is capable of!’ She laughed, pointing a long finger at Meena’s grimacing face. ‘Do not stop now, not for a moment. I shall see. Remember that!’ And striding to the door, she sighed contentedly, sensing how perfectly everything was coming together.

  Meena lifted her eyes for a moment before hurrying them back to the cauldron, peering into the swirling liquid, shivering all over.

  3

  The sea air was bitterly cold, the wind a sharp blade across her face, but Morana didn’t care. She could almost feel how close they were to land. Oh, how she longed for land, though she was hardly enamoured with their destination.

  Angard, Helsabor’s capital city.

  Once they’d discovered where they were heading, Dragmall had started describing the city in great detail to Else, reminiscing about the places he remembered, the friends he’d left behind many years ago. Morana could tell that he was eager to go back to the place of his birth, though she was too busy thinking about how to evade Draguta to care to find out why. There were Followers in Angard, she knew. Followers who would help protect them. Morana had carved symbols around the ship, glowering at the helmsman who pressed his bearded lips together, turning away from her evil eyes. Every time she thought of a new symbol, she added it to the deck, to the mast, to wherever she found a clear piece of wood. Symbols she hoped Draguta couldn’t see through.

  Dragmall had helped.

  Else had not.

  She had been far too busy sniffling and fretting about Meena, who was likely dead. How could she not be after helping her escape like that? Morana smiled, letting the wind chill her body until her crooked yellow teeth were banging together; until she had to close her eyes and wrap her arms around her thin cloak to stop herself jerking about.

  Morac was dead.

  She had dreamed it, seen what Eadmund had done to him, certain that Eirik would have celebrated that small helping of revenge. And sad though she may have felt for a moment, her brother had never been of any real use to her. Evaine was just as hopeless, pointless now that she had lost Eadmund.

  And none of it mattered anymore.

  Morana was far away from Hest, from her family, from all that she had been.

  She was heading for Briggit Halvardar and The Following, and an opportunity to start again.

  ‘You’re not worried?’ Sabine asked. She was worried. Had been since the dreamers had seen the men marching into the mountains. All of them coming from Hest.

  Coming for them.

  ‘Worried about what?’ Briggit snorted, watching flames dance in sconces around the walls of the long marbled hall, their flickering lights shimmering like golden waves. Briggit and her favourite companions, Sabine and Lillith, were eating alone. After spending the day with her soldiers, listening as they outlined their plans for the defense of the city, she had been looking forward to a different topic of conversation, though that had not eventuated. ‘You think I should be worried about what Draguta will do? What her spellbound puppet kings will do?’ Briggit finished her wine, licking her full lips. ‘Draguta’s an old woman. Long dead and not alive enough to know that she is no match for me. No match for any of us. Besides, it saves us the time of going to defeat her in Hest. Now we can just wait and finish her here. She is doing us a great favour by dragging all those men over the mountains in this terrible heat, just to be defeated! A great favour, indeed!’

  ‘But she killed the Followers in Hest. All of them!’ Sabine’s dark-blue eyes blinked double time as she grasped Briggit’s heavily ringed hand. ‘She wants to kill you, and the Book of Darkness will make her near unstoppable.’

  Briggit shook her off.

  Sabine’s fussing irritated her. She was an exceptionally pretty woman. Such luminescent skin, and lustrous brown hair that curled effortlessly over pert breasts. Briggit narrowed her eyes, sharp eyebrows rising slightly before she stopped herself.

  Pretty but irritating.

  Slouching back in her chair, she turned to Lillith who was not pretty at all, but far less annoying. ‘Have you organised the meeting?’

  Lillith nodded calmly, ignoring Sabine. The sisters had been fighting for Briggit’s attention and her love since childhood, though Lillith had always been aware that Briggit had no interest in love. Not the love of humans at least. ‘Yes, they will be here soon.’

  ‘Excellent. Then I shall bathe, and you will gather what we need. Both of you. We have a great challenge ahead of us, and we must be prepared to face it. Do not fear, Sabine!’ she laughed, leaning forward to stroke her fretful face. ‘We will be ready. United. Draguta will not defeat us. She will not surprise us. We will be waiting for her.’

  Sabine turned her blinking eyes towards her sister, who, for the first time, almost looked anxious.

  ‘Don’t be long,’ Lillith warned. ‘The Followers will be waiting.’

  Briggit smiled, sliding out of her chair, her green dress slithering behind her. ‘I’m glad to hear it. But don’t worry, Lillith darling, they will wait for me. Of course they will. I am their queen, their leader. What choice do they have?’

  Jael headed to the cove to look for Beorn who had escaped the fort before she could find him. She had been up before the roosters, conscious of how quickly they all needed to move now. They were hoping to leave the fort within seven days, eager to get to Draguta before she could cause any more harm. Eager to get Amma and Sigmund and Eadmund back too. Jael had sent a note to Raymon, asking him to prepare his men as quickly as possible, stressing the need to meet in Vallsborg earlier than expected.

  And now she had to have everyone ready to depart.

  She couldn’t stop. Couldn’t rest. Couldn’t take a moment to think, though she knew she needed to.

  And turning around, Gant could see that Jael looked ready to fall down.

  ‘How about some ale?’ he grinned, handing her a cup.

  Jael was puzzled as she took it, grateful for something to drink. ‘You walked all the way from the fort with that cup? Just for me?’

  ‘Well, when I left the hall, I thought I’d find you somewhere closer!’

  Jael took a quick drink and offered him the cup, but Gant shook his head, standing awkwardly in front of her, his eyes unable to focus anywhere near her face. Sighing, Jael finished the ale, leaving the cup in the sand. ‘You’re not coming.’

  Gant blinked in surprise, drawing his eyes back towards her.

  Jael shook her head. ‘How many of these conversations am I going to have? First Thorgils, now you. Who’s next? Aleksander?’

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘I saw you with Gisila. I heard you. And, I suppose, well, I was going to ask you to stay.’

  ‘You were?’ Gant followed her towards a tussocked bank where she plonked herself down, eager to give her ankle a rest.

  Jael turned to him, watching as he made a seat in the grass beside her. ‘I don’t want to. I want you with m
e. I need you with me. But who else can look after the fort now? We can’t just leave a small garrison and an injured Bram and hope for the best. What’s the point of going to defeat Draguta if she destroys everyone we love while we’re gone?’

  ‘Which she may try to.’

  ‘She may.’ Jael wasn’t sure that she knew what Draguta really wanted, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out. ‘I hope not, but while the Book of Aurea remains here, she’ll be a threat. She’s been trying to take that book from the beginning. I don’t imagine she’ll stop when we leave.’

  ‘No, you not being here will make it easier for her to try something. You and that raven of yours.’

  It was unsettling, how little control they had over what was about to happen.

  They could both feel it.

  It was as though every thread of their lives was now dangling out of reach, leaving them grasping helplessly in the dark.

  ‘You’ll have three dreamers and a powerful book,’ Jael reminded Gant. ‘That’s more help than I could ever give you.’

  ‘You’re sure?’ Gant wondered. ‘Sure you don’t need a dreamer yourself?’

  Jael blinked, surprised that it wasn’t something she’d considered. ‘Well, I don’t think Edela is up for the journey, and I wouldn’t take Eydis. She needs to be with Edela.’

  ‘But what about Ayla? You’re going to need some help, Jael. I imagine it’ll be hard, fighting and dreaming at the same time.’

  Jael laughed, glancing up at the sky as the clouds rushed overhead, darkening now. Turning back to Gant, she tried to remember a time when she hadn’t felt suspicious of clouds. ‘Mmmm, I can’t see myself dream walking while trying to cut off Draguta’s head.’

  Gant could hear the tension in her voice. Reaching out, he placed a hand on her arm. ‘I want to come with you.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You’ll be fine without me.’

  Jael didn’t reply.

  Gant squeezed her arm, trying to get her attention. ‘There’s nobody I’d trust more than you to do this, Jael. Nobody. Not even your father.’

  Jael peered at him in surprise.

  Gant’s eyes were serious. ‘This is your destiny. It’s always been your destiny. That sword was made for you,’ he said, his eyes on Toothpick’s moonstone pommel. ‘The gods believed in you. And Ranuf and I spent all those years teaching you what to do. You’re going to be fine, I promise.’

  Jael didn’t know what to say. She saw Beorn in the distance as he walked down onto the sand with Snorri and Villas, all three helmsmen flailing their hands as they argued. Nodding quickly, she stood. ‘I need to speak to Beorn before he disappears on me again. You should get back to Gisila, see how she is.’ And smiling awkwardly, Jael headed across the sand.

  Gant watched her go, imagining Ranuf sitting beside him, knowing that he was abandoning his children when they needed him most.

  And not for the first time.

  Dropping his head, Gant saw the cup in the sand, and he picked it up, his eyes meeting Jael’s for a moment before she turned away.

  Edela had left Biddy and Ayla on their knees in her garden. Entorp too. His salves were running low after the barsk attack, and when he wasn’t tending to Gisila, or helping Biddy, he was back in his cottage, making more. Edela smiled, pleased to have so much help, though none of their preparations would be of any use if she didn’t become more familiar with the Book of Aurea. It was hard to concentrate, though, with Gisila so weak and in so much pain. So Edela had brought the book to Gisila, and she sat with Eydis, beside her daughter’s bed, the two of them studying the book together. Or, at least, she was studying the book, and Eydis was fretting beside her.

  ‘You are welcome to leave,’ Edela murmured distractedly, running her finger over a strange symbol, trying to force it into her memory; hoping to store as many symbols as possible in her mind; knowing that she wouldn’t have time to fumble in the dark, searching for answers when they were under attack. ‘I’m happy to sit here by myself. Perhaps you should get something to eat? It certainly smells like something nice is on offer out there. Or go and check on Fyn?’

  Eydis frowned. ‘No.’ She was rubbing Vella’s fluffy head as she sat beside her, wishing she had something to eat. ‘Fyn doesn’t need to talk to me. He needs to train. They all do. And I need to find what I can about the book in my own way.’

  Edela looked up in surprise, hearing the resolve in Eydis’ voice; she sounded just like Jael. ‘Yes, you do, but surely you can only do that in your dreams? When you’re asleep?’

  ‘No, the book comes to me when I’m wide awake, and only then can I see what I need to do. How I can help.’

  ‘Well, Dara Teros is out there somewhere too, isn’t she? She must be. If only she would help us now. This book is useful, more than useful, of course, but it is not mine. I don’t know it as she does. I don’t know where all the answers are hiding. Those that I’m going to need, at least.’

  Eydis heard the worry in Edela’s voice. Worry for her daughter, and her granddaughter. Worry that she wouldn’t be able to help them when it was time. ‘But together we’ll find a way, won’t we? And Ayla. Dara Teros too. She saw what Draguta would do. She wrote it all in the book. It will help us, Edela. I know it will.’

  Edela smiled, though she felt under attack from nagging doubts. She kept thinking about the knife that had killed Draguta, about how Bruno Adea had sold that scroll to Briggit Halvardar’s mother.

  Voices swirled around her head, mocking her, goading her, warning her that she was too old and useless to help anyone.

  Jael gripped her wooden sword, distracted, not concentrating.

  ‘Sure you’re ready for this?’ Ivaar called, scuffing his boots in the dust. A few hot days had dried out the mud in the training ring, making the surface more amenable than usual.

  Jael looked up, staring into his piercing blue eyes, sensing how much Ivaar was ready for this fight. She wasn’t. She didn’t have any appetite for it at all. But by the looks on the sweaty red faces of the men who had stopped training to watch, plenty of others were too.

  Her stomach rumbled, and Jael realised that she should have headed back to the hall for breakfast before agreeing to take on Ivaar. ‘Ready to feed you some dirt!’ she called half-heartedly to a loud cheer, led by Thorgils who had pushed himself up to the front with Torstan. And scuffing her own boots into the dirt, Jael took a deep breath and lunged, cracking the edge of her blade against Ivaar’s, wondering if she should let him win.

  Get it over with. Find some food.

  Ivaar lunged, slapping his sword against Jael’s waist, lifting an eyebrow as he skidded past her, regaining his balance, turning to face her again.

  Jael sucked in her cheeks, realising that it was hardly going to inspire anyone if she let Ivaar Skalleson have his way with her. She loosened her shoulders, shaking her head, almost feeling better for a moment, knowing that she would need to get sharper and quicker and stronger if she was going to defeat Draguta.

  And Eadmund.

  If that was what Draguta was planning.

  Rushing at Ivaar, Jael swapped her sword into her left hand, confusing him. Confusing him further when she dropped the sword entirely. Ivaar’s attention switched sides, and Jael threw herself at him, arms around his waist, knocking him to the ground, his face turning to her in surprise.

  His sword gone.

  And for a moment, he looked just like Eadmund.

  Hands empty now, Ivaar quickly reached for Jael’s arms, but she was already rolling off him. And scooping up her sword, she was over him in a heartbeat, jabbing the tip of the wooden blade against his pulsing throat. ‘That was too easy, Ivaar Skalleson. Why not get up and we can do it again?’

  Ivaar growled, listening to the roars of laughter and the disappointed jeers that it was all over so quickly. He nodded. ‘Again.’

  Sigmund’s terrified wail echoed around the cavernous stone hall.

  Amma wanted to join him, but she was too bu
sy trying to calm him down. Tanja appeared to have frozen, and Sigmund was sobbing loudly against her chest, his head wobbling around as he tried to squirm out of her arms. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘Let me take him.’

  Tanja released the baby who cried even louder as he was removed from her familiar arms by a nervous Amma, who jiggled him awkwardly, trying to put him over her shoulder.

  She had no idea what she was doing.

  They were standing in the middle of the hall, the enormous dragon throne in front of them, tables to the right. They were empty, but Amma could almost see her father and Osbert sitting there, both of them red-faced and drunk, toasting to the future success of their alliance with Haaron Dragos.

  An alliance which had forced her into marriage with a monster.

  One she thought she had escaped.

  Amma wanted to run, but they were not alone. Slaves lined the walls. Shaven-headed, silent slaves who were watching them. And men. The helmsmen and some of his crew who had delivered them to Hest, and now waited to hear what prizes they would be offered. ‘Ssshhh,’ she murmured in Sigmund’s ear as he fought against her, refusing to stay still. He felt hot.

  She felt hot.

  And then a voice she didn’t recognise.

  ‘Amma Furyck, or, I should say, Amma Dragos,’ Draguta purred, striding into the hall, Brill and Meena trailing dutifully behind her. ‘How delightful to finally have you returned to us. To your rightful home. To your husband’s bed.’

  Amma swallowed, not wanting to think about her brief time in her husband’s bed. She tried to focus on soothing Sigmund, and on the tall, elegant woman who stopped, looking down at her with intense, almond-shaped blue eyes.

  ‘And this must be Sigmund Skalleson.’ Draguta turned to Brill, irritated by the horrific noise coming from the red-faced baby. ‘You will retrieve his mother, unless she’s killed herself. Find her and bring her here. She has work to do.’ And ignoring the trembling Tanja and the wailing Sigmund, Draguta turned on her heels and headed for the throne, her white dress swishing softly behind her. ‘Come closer, Amma,’ she ordered, taking a seat. ‘And give the baby to the girl. She may go and feed him, or whatever task must be done to stop that squawking.’