Vale of the Gods

by A. E. Rayne

  Edela had been sitting before her fire in the hall, the Book of Aurea open on her knees when the visions of smoke started coming again, just like her dream. But now she could see that it wasn’t smoke at all. It was fog.

  Draguta’s fog.

  Edela was confused, wondering what that meant when she heard the sound of a furious battle ringing in her ears. She tried to stay with the vision, letting the flames twist before her, revealing everything she needed to see. And then she was off her stool, the Book of Aurea dropping to the floor with a crash that had everyone turning to her.

  ‘Gant! Clear the hall now!’ She spun around. ‘Biddy! I need more wood! Herbs smoking! Entorp!’

  He hurried to the edge of the circle.

  ‘Find Eydis and Ontine and bring your drum!’

  And hurrying to pick up the book, Edela sat down, slightly dazed, hoping she could find an answer.

  Thorgils swung a fist at Jael. He’d lost his sword. Someone had thrown themselves on top of him, and he’d had to fight them off. He didn’t know who it was, but he might have killed them.

  Jael ducked, slamming her fist into his balls, hard enough to suck the air through his teeth. Thorgils dropped to the ground with a plop, knees together, screeching in agony.

  Raymon lunged out of the fog, teeth bared, blood in his mouth. ‘You bastard!’ he screamed at Aleksander. ‘You killed my mother! You killed her!’

  ‘Raymon!’ Jael spun around, wanting to see Fyr but there was no sign of her. She could see the fog shifting, though, swirling around them like a whirlpool. ‘Fyr! Fyr!’ And then Raymon punched her in the stomach.

  Aleksander whose head had cleared, hit Raymon in the jaw, knocking him back into the fog. Shaking his hand, he turned to Jael. ‘Look out!’ And there was Ivaar again.

  ‘You bitch!’ Ivaar yelled, blood running down his face from a cut above his eye. ‘You took everything from me! I’ll gut you!’

  Jael ducked the blow, slamming her fist into his ribs.

  More screaming.

  All around them, they could hear screaming. Horses in a panic. Swords and shields banging and crashing all around them.

  And the whistle of the wind.

  Jael kept turning, watching, listening.

  She could definitely hear the wind picking up.

  Entorp’s tapping on the drum was a steady, pulsing rhythm, so much slower than the frantic beat of Edela’s heart. She took four deep breaths to steady herself, knowing that she needed to be calm. Calm enough to see what Draguta was doing.

  Fog was made by Veiga, Tuuran Goddess of the Weather, yet Draguta appeared to be controlling it herself. Edela frowned, needing to know more, feeling her body sink further into the trance, deeper into the fog. And there she saw Veiga, helpless in the midst of it all. She was a powerful goddess, but she appeared to be bound, wound tightly into a spell that Edela couldn’t see a way through.

  She recognised that familiar dark cackle of Draguta’s in her ears as she swept her poisonous fog around Jael and the army. And she saw the raven, Fyr, flapping her wings, trying to create a breeze.

  And then a memory flickered.

  Faint at first, then it surged to the front of her mind.

  ‘On your feet, girls!’ Edela urged, clicking and cracking off her stool. And dragging her knife from its scabbard, she cut her palm and dug her finger into the wound. Painting a symbol quickly on Ontine’s forehead, she turned to Eydis and did the same, before drawing one on her hand. ‘We must be the wind! We must help Fyr! We must save the army!’ And she led the girls around in a circle, worried that she couldn’t go fast enough. But Ontine and Eydis were younger, stronger. They had not been casting circles for days.

  And they spurred Edela on.

  ‘Bruno!’ Ayla pleaded, her eyes on the sharply carved line of the circle she and Astrid were huddling inside. The fire crackled between them, pumping a heady mix of fragrant smoke as Bruno stepped into the wagon, eyes fixed on her. ‘Bruno! Stop!’

  Bruno edged closer, dead eyes peeled open, bloody knives glinting in the flames. ‘You left me in that hole!’ he growled, his gentle voice suddenly full of threat. ‘Left me to die! I’ll kill you for that! For what you did with Ivaar! For all of your disloyalty! I’ll kill you!’ And clenching his teeth, he lunged at his wife.

  The fog was swimming around them now, and everyone was screaming at Jael. Thorgils was up on his feet, fists in balls, aiming for Aleksander. Raymon had Axl around the throat. Jael saw Rork felling Fyn with a vicious headbutt.

  And then Fyr was back, struggling in the wind, snapping her beak, tearing some of Thorgils’ flesh, then Axl’s and Raymon’s. And finally Rork, who bent over Fyn, blinking, feeling his head. ‘Fyn?’

  Jael’s braids were snapping behind her, the hem of her tunic flapping beneath her mail shirt. And soon she was struggling to stand. ‘Hold onto each other!’ she cried, reaching for Raymon who was shaking his head, hair all over his bleeding face. ‘Hold on!’

  ‘Help! Help me!’ came a voice and they turned to see Ivaar leaning over Torstan who was bleeding from his belly, blood gurgling from his mouth.

  ‘Torstan!’ Thorgils blinked in horror, running to his friend. ‘No!’

  ‘Hurry, girls! Faster!’ Edela was struggling to breathe as she swept around the circle, holding Eydis’ and Ontine’s hands, worried that she was about to tumble over in exhaustion. But feeling a cool breeze against her back, and listening to the flap of the raven’s wings, she took a quick breath and kept going.

  Bruno fell backwards, straight through the wagon door, down the step, onto the ground, knives clattering from his hands.

  Ayla scrambled to her feet, leaving the circle.

  ‘Ayla! No!’ Astrid panicked, but she could see that the fog was clearing. The strange smell was lessening too, and she dared to leave the circle herself, listening to the retreat of the wind and the sudden loud wail of injured men.

  The fog was dispersing, leaving them in a meadow of bodies.

  Riderless horses. Confusion.

  Thorgils was fumbling, trying to tear his tunic, but his hands were slippery with blood. He tugged, but it wouldn’t rip.

  Jael tore hers, pressing the cloth against Torstan’s bleeding belly. ‘Someone get Astrid! Hurry! Torstan, stay with us. Please!’

  Torstan’s eyes were full of panic, blood running from his nose, his mouth.

  He couldn’t speak.

  Thorgils was in shock, finally tearing a piece off his tunic. ‘Here, take it. You need more!’

  But Jael could see that she needed more than two strips of cloth.

  Torstan’s eyes bulged, his body jerking. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t swallow.

  ‘I’m so sorry!’ Thorgils sobbed, grabbing his friend’s hand, trying to get him to focus. To hold on. ‘Torstan! No!’

  Torstan suddenly tensed, stiff for a moment.

  And then he went completely limp.

  ‘Torstan! Torstan!’

  Jael laid a hand on Thorgils’ back.

  Nobody spoke.

  Edela collapsed against Ontine, unable to speak.

  Seeing that they had stopped, Biddy raced inside the circle, helping her down onto a stool. ‘Stay there now. Try not to speak. Just rest.’

  Gant held his breath, standing just outside the circle, hand hovering near his sword, helpless. He didn’t know what had happened.

  He didn’t know who was safe.

  ‘Edela Saeveld has become more than an inconvenience,’ Draguta snarled, her breath a smoky rasp as she drew herself out of the trance. ‘She has become a problem. And I dislike problems, Briggit, so we will need to work on removing that one, won’t we?’

  Briggit couldn’t focus on Draguta, but she nodded nonetheless. ‘It will not be easy. The gods will work hard to protect them all now. To keep them safe from you.’

  Draguta laughed, her eyes sharper than any of them. ‘But you saw our power. We claimed Veiga herself! A goddess! Now she is ours! Ours!’ She felt elated. It w
as another step. Another step towards claiming ultimate power. ‘Soon, those gods will be impotent,’ Draguta purred, her eyes on Meena. ‘As helpless as slaves. My prisoners, every last one of them!’

  Meena looked towards the stones, struggling to halt the sway of her body as it rocked from side to side, still wanting to be moving in that whirlpool.

  Draguta could control a god.

  Meena couldn’t breathe.

  Draguta could control a god.

  Ayla threw herself onto Bruno who was blinking, his head clearing, not sure what had happened. And then he was.

  ‘I killed him,’ he panted, staring into her eyes. ‘I killed him.’

  ‘Who?’ Ayla panicked.

  ‘The driver. Thorvar. I killed him. I... tried to kill you!’ Bruno’s eyes were bleary and bloodshot, but his mind was alert. ‘That fog. It was that fog!’

  Astrid hurried down the wagon steps, a basket in her hands. She could hear the cries of pain and distress all around the meadow.

  And then Ivaar was there. ‘You have to come!’ he panted. ‘We’ve got men dying. Everywhere! You have to hurry!’

  It was too late for Torstan.

  Thorgils sobbed over his friend’s body.

  Beorn was there. Some of the other Islanders too. Orvar and Erland, friends with Thorgils and Torstan since they were boys. All of them stood around Torstan in shock.

  ‘I killed him.’ Thorgils couldn’t make it any less real, no matter how many times he said it. ‘I killed him.’

  Fyn was still unconscious.

  Jael left Thorgils to check on him. She wanted to find Tig too.

  Panic rose in her chest as the horror of what had happened came into full view. As the fog dispersed and the clouds parted, the late afternoon sun revealed the bloody path of destruction the cursed fog had wrought.

  ‘Fyn?’ Jael shook his shoulder, listening as he groaned, turning suddenly at a familiar whinny, and there was Tig, black mane flying in the strong breeze, stamping his foot impatiently.

  Relieved to have found her.

  38

  ‘What does it mean?’ Gant wondered, peering at Edela’s ghostly face. She was trembling, barely speaking since Biddy had forced her onto a stool. ‘What did she do?’

  Edela took a deep breath, focusing on Gant’s reassuring face, taking strength from him. ‘She trapped Veiga. Bound her. Through her, Draguta made that fog, cursing it, wrapping it around them all. The army was lost in it, seeing threats that weren’t there.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘They killed each other.’

  Gant’s face blanched. ‘They did?’

  Edela nodded. ‘Even Jael was lost in it for a time. The raven, Fyr, helped. Pecking them. Cutting them. Breaking them out of the spell. But for some, it was too late. I fear they have many dead and injured.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Edela’s head was still lost in that swirling fog. She glanced at Eydis and Ontine who sat beside her, swaying on their stools. ‘I don’t know.’

  Gant’s shoulders tightened further. He ran a hand over his beard, seeing the worry on Edela’s exhausted face. ‘You did what you could,’ he tried to assure her.

  But Edela didn’t even nod her head.

  Astrid and Ayla hurried around the meadow, trying to respond to every cry of pain. The wailing was not just from the injured, though. The distress of those who had killed their friends and allies rang through the late afternoon, the horror too shocking to make any sense. The fog had cleared, but they remained thick-headed, confused, struggling to understand how they had been tricked into murder.

  ‘We pile the bodies,’ Jael said, trying to find the path forward. ‘Away from the trees. In the centre. Over there.’ She pointed Aleksander and Raymon towards the flattest part of the meadow. ‘We need to burn the dead quickly, help the wounded, then leave.

  ‘Burn them?’

  ‘We’ll use sea-fire,’ Jael muttered, turning away, her head down, trying not to think about Torstan. About Thorgils who was a mess because he’d killed Torstan. ‘We have to get out of here quickly. We’re too exposed.’

  Aleksander nodded in agreement, turning to Raymon. ‘I’ll get some of my men. You get yours.’

  Jael left them to it as she headed for Fyn who was sitting up now, an enormous purple-hued bump rising out of the middle of his head.

  ‘Are you alright?’ she asked, squatting in front of him.

  ‘Think so,’ Fyn mumbled, his ears ringing so loudly that he could barely hear her. ‘What happened?’

  Jael held a hand over her bleeding arm, trying to staunch the determined flow of blood. ‘The fog tricked us into seeing things that weren’t there. Nightmares. Threats. I thought Ivaar was trying to kill me. Thorgils thought Torstan was doing the same to him.’ She swallowed. ‘He killed him.’

  Fyn’s frown cleared, his eyes bulging. ‘No!’

  ‘Thorgils isn’t the only one who’s going to have to live with what happened in that fog, I’m afraid.’ Jael’s eyes drifted to where Bruno was helping Ayla. He looked shellshocked as he handed his wife some strips of cloth, unable to focus, continually shaking his head.

  Jael shook her own head, grateful that she wasn’t going to be burdened with the same guilt; grateful to Fyr for releasing her from the spell so quickly. Looking around, Jael couldn’t see the raven, but hopefully, she was up in the sky again, watching for what else might be coming. ‘We have to move. Can you move?’

  Fyn nodded, grabbing Jael’s hand as she pulled him to his feet. ‘I want to see Thorgils.’

  ‘You should. He’s over there. Come on, I’ll take you,’ she said, watching Fyn stagger, amazed that he could stand at all after being felled by Rork and his enormous head. ‘Then we have to go. Once we round up the horses, that is.’

  They passed Karsten who still hadn’t closed his mouth, tugging on his beard, unable to comprehend the scene around him.

  ‘Get your men to find the missing horses,’ Jael ordered. ‘We have to leave!’

  Karsten nodded, forcing himself to move, overcome with relief that he was still standing.

  That there was no blood on his hands.

  Draguta was pleased with her dreamers’ first effort, knowing that their presence had enhanced the power of her spell. And once they were dressed in something less dreary, she would almost be proud to claim them.

  Briggit stood beside her on the castle steps, her eyes on the Followers who had been returned to the square, once again surrounded by armed guards. ‘They need shelter, somewhere to sleep, away from that sun.’ It was warmer than it had been all day, and she could feel sweat trickling down between her breasts.

  ‘Well, I suppose they earned it,’ Draguta decided. ‘So yes, I shall have someone move them. They have freed themselves with their performance today.’ She turned, motioning for Briggit to accompany her inside. ‘As have you. Though I am always watching. Always. One sign that my binding spell is under any threat and I shall tighten the noose again, my dear. Tight enough to strangle you all!’

  Briggit swallowed, her eyes on the steps as she mounted them. ‘I have no wish to be in those fetters again.’

  They walked into the hall where Jaeger was helping himself to wine.

  ‘Well, those of you who behave yourselves have no need to be imprisoned at all. But no one should ever think themselves above punishment,’ Draguta added, her eyes on Jaeger. ‘I demand complete loyalty and nothing less.’

  Briggit nodded, taking the goblet Jaeger handed her.

  Draguta turned away from them, heading for the map table. ‘We have wounded our enemies! Jael Furyck’s army will now limp towards us, and the people of Andala will quake in their boots tonight and every night to come, wondering what we will take from them next...’ She inhaled, feeling a surge of contentment flood her body. A peace like nothing she had ever known. ‘And the gods!’ Draguta laughed. ‘And the gods!’ And spinning around, she eyed Briggit. ‘Soon, I will be their queen. They feel it. They know
it is coming. They felt the unfamiliar loss of control, the shock of vulnerability. Ha! Those gods will soon be mine. Every last one of them!’

  Edela missed Ayla. She was a dreamer with experience; someone she felt comfortable talking to. And looking at a clearly terrified Ontine and Eydis, she didn’t feel that there was anything she could gain by sharing her fears with either of them.

  But there was always Biddy.

  Not a dreamer, but one of the wisest women she knew. So Edela took her into the kitchen garden, wanting a breath of air and a chance to escape the clamour of the hall.

  She was glad when Entorp asked to join them.

  ‘We are in deep trouble,’ Edela said solemnly, her eyes running up and down the perfectly straight rows of radishes. ‘Deep, deep trouble, and I do not know what we can do. We knew, of course, that the gods were powerless against the magic of that book, though I’m not sure we knew that Draguta would be able to control them with it.’

  Entorp, though unsettled, was not as troubled as Edela. ‘But with the girls’ help, you were able to fight back. Draguta did not win, did she? You and the raven stopped that fog.’

  ‘We did, yes, but we don’t know what happened to Veiga. Likely she is bound for good. And what will Draguta do next? She appears to be growing stronger. Perhaps she will go after all the gods now?’ Edela felt sick. ‘I don’t believe that Dara Teros foresaw her sister becoming this powerful.’

  Biddy looked more worried and much less confident than Entorp. ‘If she was brought back to life by the Book of Darkness, she must have been weak in the beginning. Perhaps now she is starting to realise her true power?’

  They walked through the garden, hazy beams of sunshine guiding them towards a bench under an apple tree. No one spoke for a while. Edela appreciated the silence, her shoulders finally relaxing, though her legs were still trembling as she took a seat next to Biddy.