by A. E. Rayne
‘But whisps are supposed to be friendly, aren’t they?’ Gisila whispered. ‘How did they have blades? What else will she turn against us?’
Edela didn’t know, but she realised how truly impossible it was to protect themselves now. If Draguta could turn a harmless creature like a whisp into a weapon, any dark thing was possible.
She stared down at the circle for a moment, looking up as Isaura entered the hall, all four children in tow, an idea popping into her head.
A way she might be able to keep them all safe.
Morning dawned bright and warm, and Jael and Ayla walked through the forest together, eager to talk away from everyone else. They were both tired, neither having gone back to sleep after the whisp attack, and they were struggling to think of what to do.
‘I wish I knew more,’ Ayla said. ‘I wish I could see more about what happened.’
Jael wasn’t sure she wanted to know. It was hard enough to keep themselves safe; impossible to keep their attention and everyone else’s focused on what lay ahead without worrying about what was happening back at the fort. ‘She could have crushed us, but she didn’t.’
‘It seems that she’s waiting for something.’
‘Or someone.’
Ayla frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean me. Draguta wants me.’
‘So perhaps we are in less danger here, then?’ Ayla mused. ‘Perhaps I should have stayed behind? Edela needs me.’
Jael turned to her, eyes up on the tree canopy. ‘And you helped her from here, so you can again. We just have to stay alert. Focus on getting to Vallsborg. Hopefully, the Iskavallans are on their way, and nothing has happened to them.’ She felt a sudden fear for Raymon, knowing that he was inexperienced, nervous, and without many allies. And then there was Getta, who was a nagging problem that would have to be addressed at some point too.
If they survived long enough to have that conversation.
Raymon wanted to go back to sleep. He missed his own bed, the comfort and privacy of his chamber. And his mother.
He missed her most of all.
He had dreamed of her again, and her terrified cries were still echoing in his head as he sat on his bed, trying to find the will to start the day. This time he’d seen Getta too, a knife at her throat, but he had run for Ravenna, wanting to save his mother.
Not his wife.
Raymon listened to the creak of his cot bed as he contemplated standing; the sounds of the men outside his tent, preparing for the day. He needed to be outside, organising them, but he could barely make himself move.
Death made him want to hide.
Remembering his mother’s. Facing his own.
He dropped his head to his hands as grief bubbled up, tears wet on his palms.
‘My lord?’
Raymon was quickly sitting up, rubbing his eyes, hurrying off the bed, shutting it all away. ‘One moment.’ He waited before the tent flap, trying to breathe. And pushing back his shoulders, he dragged open the flap and strode out into the morning.
Bayla wasn’t sure how many more goodbyes she could endure. She had the very real sense that soon it would be her lying on a pyre being wept over.
If there was anyone left to mourn her by then.
The bodies of the dead had been brought into the square, awaiting the pyres that Bram and Ulf were organising with haste. The bodies of the dead livestock and horses were another question entirely.
Gant had joined Bram and Ulf to discuss a strategy.
Gus was alive, though his body was shredded, and he remained lying still in his stall while Biddy and Isaura tended to him. Amidst all the injuries, Gant was grateful they’d found time to care for his horse. Isaura had insisted. Her children and servants were safe, and she knew Gus had saved Thorgils and that Thorgils had formed a deep attachment to the horse as a result. She wanted to help.
‘Edela says we can’t eat them,’ Gant announced.
Ulf frowned. ‘All that meat going to waste? It needs to be cured. Salted. It will feed us through winter.’
‘She’s worried those blades were poisoned. Maybe cursed. We have no way of knowing. Draguta killed our livestock because she wants us to suffer. Otherwise, why bother? It would make sense if she’d poisoned the animals to make it even worse.’
Bayla and Berard walked over to join them. Nicolene’s pyre was almost ready, and they were debating whether to find the children and give them a chance to say goodbye to their mother. Or perhaps that would only terrorise them further? Neither could think clearly enough to know what the right thing to do was.
‘But if we burn all those animals, what will we eat?’ Bayla panicked. ‘Does she mean to starve us?’
‘I would think so,’ Ulf frowned. He was still in shock, not understanding how Nicolene had died. The heartbroken wails of her two little sons had stayed with him all morning. He couldn’t shake the sound of their unbearable pain. ‘The animals killed were mainly the ones we’d eat.’
‘Or the useful ones, like the horses,’ Bram added, the picture of all those dead and dying horses vivid in his mind.
‘We can’t eat them,’ Berard agreed. ‘It’s too much of a risk. But maybe we need to harvest everything else now? Everything. Keep it safe somehow. If Draguta tries to spoil our fruit and vegetables, we’ll be in an even worse position than we are now.’
Gant nodded. ‘We can do that today. Though I’m not sure there’s anything we can do to keep it out of Draguta’s hands. If creatures like those whisps can crawl through cracks in the floor, how can we keep her out of the fort?’
Marcus had been moved into one of the bedchambers. Hanna wondered distractedly if it had been Aleksander’s. She hadn’t slept, and her thoughts kept wandering into a maze, going around in circles, getting lost.
She was trying not to worry about what was going to happen to her father. He looked so very weak. His face was ashen, his body completely still. She had to keep checking to make sure that he was breathing.
Derwa came in often.
Hanna peered at the healer in the faint light of the lamps as she stooped over her father, trying to read her expressions. Derwa grunted and groaned, belching sometimes, but she didn’t speak until she was done, and then she curled a finger in Hanna’s direction, motioning her towards the door.
‘Your father is weakening,’ Derwa began, quickly reaching out to calm Hanna’s panic. ‘But that is to be expected. He lost a lot of blood, but your fears won’t help him get stronger. He must rest to heal. Peace helps. In here it is calm. And you can help him by being calm yourself.’
Hanna didn’t look convinced that that was possible, but she nodded.
‘I’ll bring you something to drink. Some food,’ Derwa decided with a yawn, heading for the door. Hanna looked bereft and so alone. She didn’t know what else to do for her. ‘You just sit there. I won’t be long.’
Hanna turned back to her father, picking up his limp hand, Derwa’s words sinking in. Calm, she thought to herself, fighting back tears.
Calm.
Edela was animated. Optimistic. It was not how she’d expected to feel after the whisps had sliced their way through the fort, but the more she thought about what had happened, the more she realised that they had a way to keep themselves safe.
She tracked down Isaura and Biddy in the stables, horrified by all the dead horses being dragged out; pleased to see that Gus was still hanging on.
Biddy stood up, wiping her bloody hands on her bloody apron. ‘You look brighter than I would’ve expected after last night,’ she sighed, staring down at Gus, dark lines of stitches zigzagging across his still, white body. ‘We need to get some salves from Entorp. It will stop these wounds festering, and help with the pain.’
Isaura nodded. ‘I’ll go and find him.’ She wiped her own hands and turned to leave the stall.
Edela stopped her. ‘Wait, I came to see you both. About something I want to try. A dream walk. Tonight. I want you to help me.’
‘A d
ream walk to who?’ Biddy wondered.
‘Jael or Ayla, I can’t decide. Either way, we need to be ready to do it tonight. Isaura, I want you to drum for me. And Biddy, I think we need a few more herbs. Why don’t you come and see what we’re running low on.’ She rubbed her cold hands together. ‘We must act quickly now. Whatever Draguta is planning next, I don’t believe she’ll delay. Not with Jael and the army on their way to her.’
Draguta strode across the square, inhaling the smell of unwashed bodies and the overpowering reek of fear, her sharp eyes on the ragged huddle of Followers who shuffled closer together, away from the Hestian soldiers and their gleaming swords.
Her prisoners.
She ignored the pleading eyes and the outstretched arms of the most pathetic. Those weak few appeared to have abandoned Briggit Halvardar altogether, ready to do her enemy’s bidding rather than face another day imprisoned under the burning Hestian sun.
Smiling, Draguta turned to Amma and Evaine who walked with her. They were heading down to the harbour, eager to greet their latest arrivals. ‘What do you say, then, ladies? Should we leave them to fry like little eggs? Looking at that sky, I predict the hottest day of the summer so far.’ She eyed one Follower who was dripping with sweat, though it was only mid-morning and the sun was some way from its zenith. ‘I imagine you’d like to remove that heavy woollen robe, wouldn’t you? You must be steaming beneath it.’ And turning away with a satisfied smile, Draguta headed for the piers, listening to the pitiful groans rising behind her.
And then a murmur wound its way around the Followers, all eyes fixed on the harbour.
To where Briggit Halvardar had just been helped down onto a pier.
Evaine hadn’t been sure how she would feel when she saw Eadmund, but her body shivered with excitement as he walked towards her. She glanced at Amma, feeling so plain beside the overdressed queen, yet Sigmund was in her arms, and hopefully, that would be more appealing to Eadmund than any new dress.
Eadmund’s attention was on Draguta as he walked, but he could see that Evaine was there with their son.
That was oddly confusing.
Amma was there too, and he smiled briefly at her before Draguta took sole command of his attention as she approached.
‘Eadmund, dear Eadmund,’ she sighed, looking from the weary King of Oss to the tiny Queen of Helsabor. ‘You have returned! Though it was hardly a test for you, was it?’ She considered Briggit with interest, still talking to Eadmund. ‘And I have a reward for you as you can see. Your son! Returned to you, at last!’
Eadmund was conscious of how wet he was, though feeling the oppressive heat from the sun, he realised that he wouldn’t be for long. Trying to avoid looking at Evaine, he reached for his son, taking him in his arms. Evaine’s eyes didn’t leave his face, but Eadmund continued to ignore her as he dropped Sigmund into the crook of his arm, pleased that he’d remembered how to hold him. Happy that he was safe.
‘He’s missed you,’ Evaine murmured. ‘We both have.’
Briggit burst out laughing, drawing a look of irritation from Evaine who suddenly noticed how close the queen was standing to Eadmund, and how attractive she was. For a prisoner.
A Follower.
Someone Draguta was hopefully about to kill.
Draguta herself said nothing. She was taking everything in.
Letting it ruminate.
‘Hello, Amma,’ Eadmund said gently, watching her trying to shrink away.
Amma looked up suddenly. Eadmund was spellbound, she knew, though what that meant she wasn’t sure. But there he was, looking at her kindly and he reminded her of Jael and Axl and all that she missed about Andala. Trying not to cry, she smiled. ‘Hello, Eadmund.’
Briggit eyed the girl queen impatiently, eager to be taken into the castle which she could see in the distance. The castle, where she would find a chair, a goblet of wine, something to eat, and hopefully, something dry to wear.
Draguta emerged from her daze, clapping her hands. ‘We shall head into the castle, get you out of those wet clothes, Eadmund. Perhaps Evaine could go with you, while Amma and I take care of the former Queen of Helsabor.’
Eadmund scowled, not wanting Evaine’s company.
Briggit thought about scowling, though she didn’t really care who said what about whom. She had made it to Hest, not quite in the way she had foreseen, but now she was here, within reach of Draguta and the Book of Darkness.
And both of them were going to help her bring Raemus back.
27
After the disturbed night, they had taken some time to get going that morning, but once they were on the road again, minds quickly turned to what would be coming next.
Jael had sent Aleksander to ride up front with Axl, hoping he could keep her brother’s mind focused. She was trying to stay far away from Karsten by riding with Thorgils and Torstan, though the Dragos’ were not far from her thoughts. She kept seeing Nicolene lying on the floor of her cottage, hearing the wailing children as they crawled over her lifeless body. She swallowed, glancing at Thorgils, hoping he could take her mind off Nicolene, but he was talking to Torstan, reminiscing about Oss, telling stories about Eadmund and Eirik. About their fathers. Their friends. Jael wasn’t paying attention to anything they were saying, but, eventually, she started to think about Oss too.
About whether she would ever return.
They were riding down a narrow road that cut through a sparse wood. Not Hallow Wood. They wouldn’t be near that terrifying maze of trees until they reached Vallsborg, thankfully, but it felt so far away from the bleak and sharp terrain of her island home that she felt wistful.
She smiled sadly, thinking about Eadmund.
Remembering her fight with Ivaar.
Wondering if her husband was practising ways to kill her.
Hest’s grand hall looked different, Eadmund thought, though he couldn’t put his finger on how. He was too tired to even try. Hungry too, he realised, handing Sigmund back to Evaine who smiled sweetly at him, hovering near his elbow, wondering where Tanja was. She patted Sigmund’s back as Eadmund followed Draguta to the throne where Jaeger sat, waiting for them all, looking much improved from the last time he had seen him.
‘My wife!’ Jaeger exclaimed, his hand extended. ‘My queen!’ And he encouraged a nervous-looking Amma to come closer.
Amma frowned, her eyes instinctively darting to Eadmund who was watching Jaeger, a wary expression on his face, his body tense.
Draguta waited, interested to see how Jaeger would act. He almost looked like himself again, she noted with pleasure, though perhaps still a little glassy-eyed. But he dragged himself out of the throne, slipping Amma’s hand through his arm as he approached Briggit.
‘My lady,’ Jaeger said with a mocking bow. ‘You appear in great need of a towel.’ And he winked at Draguta who smiled her approval. Snapping his fingers, he ordered a towel brought for Briggit, who did appear soaked to the bone, her shining dark hair plastered to her face, wet on her neck. She was still dressed in her hooded robe from the attack on Angard, and it stunk of sweat and seawater and things she didn’t want to remember.
‘A towel?’ Briggit looked offended. ‘After that horrific journey, all you have to offer me is a towel?’
‘Be grateful you’re still alive to need a towel!’ Draguta snarled, shepherding Briggit to the table. ‘Not like those charred dogs out there. I’ve already had to send for a cart. It seems that the lords and ladies of Hest do not enjoy staring at the crispy remains of your Followers as they go about their business.’
Briggit swallowed. ‘And what will you do with them? Leave them out there all day? That is your plan? Sunstroke?’ she laughed. ‘I’m quaking in my boots! What evil will you conjure up next, oh dark mistress?’
Draguta’s right eyebrow lifted to a sharp point. Though she prided herself on her sense of humour, she detested being mocked. Especially by a compromised Follower queen in chains. Lunging forward she wrapped a hand around Briggit’s neck, lif
ting her off the ground.
Amma’s eyes bulged as she stumbled against Jaeger.
Eadmund’s mouth dropped open, wondering what Draguta would do next.
Briggit stayed perfectly calm, though, blinking, waiting for Draguta to release her.
Which, eventually, she did.
‘Sunstroke?’ Draguta spat, throwing her to the ground. ‘No, Briggit Halvardar, that is not what I have in mind at all!’ And spinning around, she headed for the table, searching for a goblet of wine.
Gant felt sorry for the Dragos’. It was hard not to. Sorry enough to hastily find them the house that Bayla had wanted so much.
It was one of Andala’s finest, newly built in wattle and daub, with a thatched roof and two reasonably sized windows. There was a generous storage room at the back stocked with vats of ale and jars of honey; preserved meats and fruit, shelves of fish hooks and tools, and a few spare soapstone lamps too. There were enough beds for the five children. Enough for Berard, Bayla, and Ulf.
There would have even been enough room for Nicolene.
Bayla felt tears coming. She hadn’t liked Nicolene. No one had, though Karsten had seemed fond of her at times; attached to her, at least. They had been a family, as Haegen and Irenna had been. And now they were gone, and here she was... mother to all five of her grandchildren.
It was too much. Too horrible to take in. But tears would not help, she knew.
Turning to Gant, Bayla rubbed her eyes. ‘Thank you,’ she sighed, and she meant it.
He nodded, indicating for Ulf to follow him outside, and, when they were standing away from the door, Gant stopped and turned to him. ‘It’s bigger, which will please the queen, but it will be harder to keep trouble out. You should block up the windows. Make barriers for the door. Make sure you’ve got buckets of water nearby at all times. Spears and torches to burn too.’ He was suddenly overcome with exhaustion, struggling to think. ‘I’ve a feeling Draguta will try again soon.’