Vale of the Gods

by A. E. Rayne

  ‘It’s been such a terrifying night,’ Ontine sighed, helping her to a stool. ‘I’m just so glad the fire is out. I can’t imagine what it would be like now if Jael hadn’t stopped it.’

  Edela nodded, thinking about Jael, worry gnawing deep inside her. She could hear Draguta’s cackles and threats echoing in her ears, but most of all, she could feel her power. She had felt how immensely powerful Draguta was as she stood there, commanding the vale from her grassy ridge, surrounded by those Followers; each one a dangerous dreamer in their own right.

  Edela shivered, worrying that they hadn’t been able to reach Eadmund.

  Wondering how they were going to help him now.

  ‘They’re going to be tired,’ Aleksander yawned, feeling tired himself, despite the welcome appearance of the sun, his eyes on their straggling columns of warriors who were almost stumbling behind them.

  ‘They are,’ Jael agreed as she rode alongside him, thinking about her bed and the tents they’d left behind. ‘But it’s quite motivating when a horde of bloodthirsty Hestians are running at you. I’m sure they’ll wake up in time.’

  He grinned. ‘I think they will. Especially if there’s a dragon or two swooping down over their heads.’

  Raymon frowned from Jael’s other side. ‘Do you think she has more?’

  ‘Dragons?’ Jael shrugged. ‘Seems like a shame to have just the one. Marcus said that Aros made Thrula for Raemus, but he didn’t say if he’d made any others.’ She didn’t feel good about lying, but she wasn’t sure Raymon’s nerves could take the jolt of knowing that there were certainly more dragons about.

  ‘I wouldn’t mind a dragon,’ Raymon said. ‘On our side.’

  ‘They wouldn’t need us, then, would they?’ Aleksander mused. ‘We could take a seat. Watch from the sidelines. Karsten and Thorgils could organise the betting. A battle of the dragons!’

  Jael’s mind was wandering all over the place, and she wasn’t really listening. She could sense the beat of her heart quicken, knowing that she was getting closer to Eadmund. And she knew that Draguta wouldn’t be thinking about dragons. She’d be preparing Eadmund to kill her.

  And Jael didn’t know if she was ready to face him.

  Eadmund was patiently receiving his instructions.

  After having set everybody to work, Draguta had stared into her seeing circle for what felt like hours, looking for the gods. Looking for her sister. And now dawn was breaking, and she had drawn herself away from her tent, taking him for a walk, far away from the Followers and their open ears.

  Eadmund wondered why Draguta needed them.

  With all her power, and the magic of the Book of Darkness, why did Draguta need Briggit and the Followers?

  ‘Eadmund!’ Turning to him, Draguta grabbed his sleeve. ‘Now is not the time to be falling asleep. After all that I have done for you? All that training? Saving you from Evaine’s desperate clutches? Giving you that potion for Morac? Sending Morana to Angard?’

  Eadmund looked surprised. ‘You sent her there? For me?’

  ‘Well, not for you exactly,’ Draguta admitted. ‘But if I hadn’t...’ She laughed. ‘That revolting witch is only dead because of me!’

  ‘I...’ Eadmund didn’t know what to say, but he knew that he didn’t want to think about Morana. ‘I feel fine.’

  Draguta lifted an eyebrow, studying him in the faint light of the morning. The sky was awash with an eye-catching display of warm colours, and soon the sun would come to brighten the vale, though Eadmund appeared to be shivering. ‘Are you cold?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Is it cold?’

  He nodded again.

  Draguta felt as though she was on fire. ‘Well, the sun is rising and no doubt soon you’ll all be complaining about how hot it is, but in the meantime, being cold is irrelevant. You must hear what I need you to do, understand what I require from you, and know that if you fail me, Eadmund, your son will be raised by another man. Another man. Could you imagine such a thing?’

  Eadmund couldn’t.

  ‘Fail, and there is no coming back, I promise you that. No coming back at all.’

  Eadmund watched as Draguta abruptly turned away from him, stalking towards the broad, lichen-covered trunk of the old tree. The need to please her pulsed in his veins, and lifting his head, he tried to focus on what she had said.

  ‘Eadmund?’ Evaine looked frantic as she approached. She felt exhausted but too terrified to think about sleep now. ‘They say the Brekkans will be here soon. Your wife too.’

  Eadmund frowned at Evaine, wondering what she wanted. She placed a hand on his new leather arm guard, and he flinched. ‘I have to prepare for the battle.’ He moved his arm, wanting to leave.

  ‘You do, I know, but I... you must stay safe... for Sigmund.’

  Eadmund stared at her. ‘Sigmund?’

  Evaine wanted to throw herself at him, not wanting him anywhere near his wife or all those men who would try to kill him. But she thought of Oss. Oss where she would be Eadmund’s queen, with Draguta’s help. And she blinked away the tears that were threatening to come like a flood. ‘Your son needs you to return to him.’ She bit her teeth together, stopping herself from saying any more.

  Eadmund nodded, his eyes on the vale entrance, wondering how long it would be before Jael was there. ‘I will. You have nothing to worry about, Evaine. I won’t be defeated today.’

  50

  Ontine had been the only one to fall back to sleep. Edela had sent her to Jael’s chamber as she kept nodding off, almost falling off her stool. And when she returned, she told them about her dream.

  She had seen Jael and the army approaching the Vale of the Gods.

  They had not stopped. They had marched through the night, hurrying to stay ahead of the flames that Draguta had sent to terrorise them too.

  Eydis panicked. ‘But how can we dream walk to Eadmund now? If they’re getting that close, perhaps there’ll be no more time? Perhaps they will fight today?’

  After a sleepless night, Edela was struggling to think clearly. Eadmund needed to be asleep for them to cut the binding rope. And Eadmund needed that rope cut to help Jael.

  To help all of them.

  ‘Can’t you try while he’s awake?’ Biddy wondered, immediately feeling foolish. ‘Will he see you?’

  ‘Eydis has to put her hand into his soul,’ Edela muttered, trying to come up with another solution. ‘So, yes, I think it is preferable if he’s asleep.’

  ‘They may not fight today,’ Eydis said hopefully. ‘Don’t armies take their time to prepare for battle?’ She turned to Entorp, who was sitting next to her.

  ‘Well, I’m no expert on what armies do,’ Entorp smiled wearily, ‘but yes, there’s usually more to consider than just arriving and heading straight into a battle. Though Gant would know more about that than me.’

  ‘We must stay alert,’ Edela insisted. ‘Or asleep. One of the two. I can’t decide!’

  Gisila, who stood outside the circle listening, looked worried. ‘Can’t you dream of something, Mother? Some way to do it? To see what’s possible?’ She was so used to Edela having all the answers, but her mother suddenly looked frail and confused. ‘Why don’t you go and get some sleep? You haven’t slept all night.’

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ Sybill said as she stopped beside Gisila, her eyes moving from Edela to her daughter. ‘It helped Ontine, didn’t it?’

  Edela’s lips were tight. ‘Yes, I think you may be right. It was a long night.’ She didn’t blink, watching Sybill’s eyes, which, for the first time, did not appear nervous at all.

  Gisila was surprised that her mother seemed so compliant. ‘Here, come with me, then. I’ll tuck you in.’ And she put her arm around Edela’s shoulder, leading her away to the grey curtain.

  After riding through the night with barely a break, Jael was hungry. Really hungry.

  ‘You need to keep your strength up,’ Thorgils fussed, handing her a rock-hard flatbread that he’d sawed in two and
filled with smoked cheese that smelled a bit off. He couldn’t stand still. His nerves were working away at his body and his mind, and not in a way that made sense. He was worrying about dragons and bloodthirsty creatures, and powerful dreamers who could attack them with who knew what. His mind was overwhelmed with terrifying images that had nothing to do with warriors and shield walls.

  Jael took the flatbread, and with some effort, bit into it. ‘I think you’re right,’ she mumbled, mouth full of food. ‘Being tired makes me want to eat.’

  ‘Surprised you have any appetite,’ Axl said, feeling nauseous. ‘Aren’t you nervous?’

  Jael laughed. ‘About dying?’ She shook her head, eyes scanning the mountains in the distance, noticing the clouds thickening now, hiding the sun.

  They had finally taken a break alongside a stream. Weary legs. Drooping heads. Sore feet. Thirsty horses. After the long march through the night, they all needed a moment to rest and gather their thoughts. ‘Dying doesn’t bother me. As long as I’ve ended Draguta and destroyed her book, I’ll gladly die. But I’m not going anywhere till that bitch is ash.’

  ‘And when she is?’ Karsten wondered, swigging from the water bag he’d just filled up. ‘When you’ve killed her and burned her book? Will that be that? What about all those Followers you saw with her? All the creatures she can conjure up to attack us?’

  Jael thought back to her time in Tuura. To Gerod Gott and his circle of chanting dreamers, reminded of how they had controlled the temple guards, not letting them die. ‘The Followers will be trouble, but I’ll have my own dreamer working on that. You need to focus on the Hestians. On Jaeger. He’ll be commanding them, and an army usually loses its way when its leader falls. Although, I can’t imagine anyone will care if Jaeger dies.’

  Karsten couldn’t disagree with that.

  ‘You shouldn’t be at the front, Jael,’ Aleksander insisted, not liking her plan. ‘I don’t want you out there.’

  Everyone turned to Jael who looked irritated. ‘Well, tough luck for you. I need to be out in front. I’ll have a shield. Toothpick. Don’t worry.’ She suddenly did worry, remembering the shield that Eadmund didn’t have; the one supposed to protect them from Draguta. Her own shield was new, made of linden wood, iron-rimmed, with a gleaming domed boss. It would hold off an attack from a sword, an axe, a spear, but it would not withstand magic.

  But Eadmund’s shield...

  Where was Eadmund’s shield?

  Everyone else looked worried too, Jael could see, especially Fyn. She patted his shoulder, trying to focus him. ‘You’ll be with Thorgils,’ she smiled. ‘He’ll keep you safe.’

  ‘But who will keep you safe?’ Thorgils wondered, eyebrows knitting together, stomach in knots. ‘Draguta will have everyone on you. Like you say, an army is vulnerable when its leader falls, and you’re ours.’

  ‘I’m one of ours, and I’m not planning on falling. But look,’ and she swept her arm around the anxious, sooty faces before her. At Ivaar and Rexon. Rork and Karsten. Axl and Thorgils. ‘We’ve enough leaders here to get us through what we need to do. More than enough. We need to trust each other now.’ She stared into each pair of eyes. ‘Trust.’

  And, eventually, a few heads nodded, and she coughed. ‘Now, is there anything to drink? I think that flatbread’s choking me!’

  Dara and Eloris had travelled at night. Only at night. For days they had crept towards Andala in snatches of moonlight, slipping through the trees, sheltering in protected caves, hiding in warded forests, but now they had run out of time.

  Dara had tried to get through to Edela. And then Eydis.

  Jael and Aleksander too.

  When she had failed, Eloris had tried, though she could not reach anyone either.

  Something was wrong, they could feel it.

  Dara wondered if they were all using symbols to keep Draguta away. Hiding, trying to stay safe. She didn’t know. She hoped it was that, not something more sinister.

  This time they had not taken shelter before dawn started filtering through the forest canopy. They had kept going, hoping the symbols they were using would keep them hidden long enough to get to Andala.

  It was still raining, and Dara was wet through, though she couldn’t feel it. Her boots had holes in them, letting in tiny bits of dirt, but she didn’t care. She kept going, knowing that after waiting for centuries for this moment, she was in danger of running out of time.

  And if she did?

  Dara jumped as Eloris gripped her arm. ‘We have to leave the forest now. We must cross the meadow.’

  ‘I know.’

  They could both see how wide and exposed that meadow was as they peered through the last trees of the forest.

  ‘Draguta may see us,’ Eloris panicked. ‘If our symbols aren’t working, she might come for us.’

  ‘And if she does, you must leave. Please, Eloris, promise me. This is too important. If she comes for me, you must keep going to the fort. Tell them what I’ve seen.’

  Eloris nodded. ‘I will, I promise. But please, let us hurry!’

  The boxes that had been retrieved from the catacombs were arrayed across the grassy ridge. Draguta had kept Ballack working all morning, lifting everything into place. He had built a great fire, and the heat from its sparking flames had him sweating as he rushed around it, bringing Draguta everything she needed.

  Her certainty had returned with the sunshine, and she looked Briggit over with a smile, noting that, despite wearing her hideous black robe, her face was glowing, her dark hair smooth and gleaming. ‘How lovely you look this morning,’ she purred approvingly. ‘Almost like a queen. Not like that ragged doll over there.’ And she inclined her head to where a red-faced Meena was lugging a heavy basket towards her.

  Briggit laughed. ‘I’ve always found that the most useful people are the ugliest. Still, Jaeger doesn’t appear to notice. He has quite... peculiar tastes.’

  Draguta wasn’t pleased to have that pointed out. ‘The book is more powerful than any mortal can handle. He is not a dreamer. A dreamer can absorb its power and maintain control. Jaeger... struggles. It is hardly his fault. Raemus designed the book that way.’

  Briggit flinched, incensed to hear Draguta use Raemus’ name so casually. The sound of it on her tongue made her toes curls. Swallowing, she quickly tried to calm herself.

  Draguta glanced at her, surprised by her silence, though none of Briggit’s thoughts revealed themselves. Her body was tense as she turned away, watching Eadmund approach. ‘Well, how handsome you look! I imagine you are pleased?’ She ran her eye over his gleaming new suit of armour.

  It was not what the King of Oss would have worn, and Eadmund twitched uncomfortably as he stopped before her. He was used to his heavy mail shirt, his well-worn leather arm guards, his comfortable old tunic. But the shining plated armour Draguta had given him made him feel like someone else.

  It made him feel like a killer.

  Draguta ran her eyes over Eadmund, noting how snugly the plates of metal hugged his impressive frame. He was a powerful-looking man now. A king finally worthy of his title. ‘This is a good start!’ she declared. ‘And where is Jaeger? I want him down in the arena with his men. We shall not be delayed by his tardiness!’

  ‘I’m here,’ Jaeger grumbled, approaching from behind. He’d been pissing in the trees, wanting a moment to think, to gather his thoughts. He couldn’t understand the rush. His scouts had been back and forth all morning.

  There was no sign of anyone approaching.

  Draguta’s face cleared. Jaeger looked just as impressive as Eadmund, and his surly scowl only made him appear more threatening, as did his new helmet which covered most of his face. ‘Well, this is good to see. My two kings. So terrifying! I would not want to face either one of you. I’m sure Briggit agrees?’

  Briggit looked on blankly.

  ‘Now, Eadmund, you can go. Find your men. Jaeger, come to my tent. I think we need a final word, don’t you?’ Her eyes followed the disappearing fig
ure of Eadmund Skalleson before she turned away, heading for her tent.

  Briggit watched Eadmund go. He was so lost in Draguta’s spell that he could no longer compel an independent thought, and Jaeger was so consumed by the Book of Darkness that he would do anything for Draguta just to touch it again.

  Prisoners, both of them.

  She smiled, smoothing down her dark robe, feeling her stomach flutter.

  Edela had no intention of sleeping when she lay down on Jael’s bed. She had just wanted a moment to think, free of the noise in the hall.

  Being a dreamer often felt as though everyone was living inside her head. There was no choice but to listen to the demanding fears and worries, hopes and wishes of those around her; all of them tumbling around her mind, waiting for her to pick and choose what was important. What stood out as something she needed to explore further.

  The clouds.

  Edela smiled, yawning. She had to fight her way through those clouds, through everything that was stopping her finding answers; ignoring what she had read, imagined, and dreamed about.

  All the faces. The secrets and lies.

  Were they lies?

  She didn’t know. She thought of Marcus, Entorp, Alaric, Branwyn. All of them Tuuran. Yet none of them had known Sybill or Ontine in Tuura. They had seen them, recognised them, yet they didn’t know them. Not even Branwyn – who was the sort of woman to stick her nose in everywhere – could tell her much about Sybill.

  Edela rolled onto her side, coming face to face with Vella who tried to lick her nose. ‘What do you think, then?’ she wondered. ‘You know more than anyone, perhaps? Much more than me...’ And she patted that soft fluffy head, wishing she could read her thoughts.

  Vella had growled at Evaine, she remembered. Both dogs had.

  But she had never seen them have a problem with either Sybill or Ontine.

  Edela sighed, frustrated now, doubting her sanity again.