by A. E. Rayne
Else sighed. ‘My father. He had no love of magic and mystery. Not as I did. I wanted to be a dreamer as a girl. A healer. A witch. Something exciting. I had no real skill, though. No talent at all. My mother let me help her with her healing, but she died when I was quite young, and my father put me into service. I’ve been a servant in the castle ever since. It kept my father happy and well cared for in his final days, but I often wonder what would have been if I had stayed with Dragmall.’
‘He never married, did he?’
‘No. He preferred his own company, even when I was with him, so I suppose it worked out best for all of us.’
They had walked far away from the castle now; past the markets, and the cliffs dotted with tiny stone cottages; past the crowded, narrow roads of the city; across the causeway and up the red-dust path that wound its way into the hills where Dragmall made his home.
Else frowned, hoping they could trust him.
The men in the training ring were loud; grunting and bellowing as they cracked their wooden swords and staffs into one another. Gant barely noticed as he walked past with Ivaar Skalleson and Karsten Dragos.
Not the sort of allies Ranuf would have been happy with.
But then Ranuf had not had to battle serpents or dragons or a magic book, Gant thought to himself with a wry smile.
‘And if we don’t have the Iskavallans?’ Ivaar was asking. ‘If they change their minds? What then?’
‘We’ll have them,’ Gant assured him, scanning the square, wondering where Axl had gone. ‘Raymon Vandaal has already indicated that he wants to help us. We only need to work out the terms, and once Jael is back, we’ll do just that.’
Karsten frowned. ‘If she comes back.’
Gant glared at him. ‘You know something I don’t?’
‘Only what’s been said. It doesn’t sound good.’
‘You needn’t worry about Jael,’ Gant snapped. ‘You need to worry about your men.’
Karsten looked confused. ‘My men?’
‘You’re a leader. And a leader needs men. Ivaar has his own men, and until Jael comes back, the rest of the Islanders are his.’
Ivaar blinked, surprised by that news; certain that the newly arrived Island lords would not be impressed to hear that.
‘I’ve put together a group of Andalans and Tuurans who’ll be under your command,’ Gant said, pointing to the huddle of men who stood to one side of the new sea-fire shed looking decidedly unimpressed by the idea of being Karsten Dragos’ men. ‘You’ll be responsible for training them. Organising them. They will answer to you, and you will answer to me. And I will answer to Axl.’
‘And if Jael comes back?’ Ivaar wondered.
‘When Jael comes back,’ Gant said, glowering at them both, ‘we’ll all answer to her. Every single one of us, including Raymon Vandaal. Anyone who wants to live that is.’ He turned to Ivaar. ‘The Islanders are busy with the dragon. Once Karsten’s done sorting out his men, you can swap over. They need to learn what you expect from them. When the dragur attack, you’ll need them organised. Fighting like a unit.’
But Karsten wasn’t listening. He was too busy staring at the scowling group of men who he could tell were not relishing the thought of having a Hestian lead them. Most were Andalans who had fought in Valder’s Pass, watching as their friends died, slaughtered by Karsten and his men. And the Tuurans scattered amongst them knew well enough not to trust a Hestian. Aedan and Aron were standing with them. Kormac too.
But every man was going to be needed to fight against the dragur.
Every man, be it Tuuran or Brekkan, needed a leader. And Karsten knew that he was a good one.
He nodded, thinking of his father, and Haegen. He’d always wanted to be in charge, convinced that his ideas were better than any of theirs.
And now he had the chance to prove it.
Jael opened her eyes, confused. She thought for a moment that she was on Oss. Or in Andala. Then she remembered the baby, and everything fell back into place.
And she felt bereft.
‘There you are,’ Astrid murmured. ‘I have some broth, if you feel up to eating something soon?’
Jael blinked, trying to nod; not wanting to eat anything, but knowing that she needed to. She needed to get up. She wanted to get out of bed and find Eadmund. But where was he? In Hest?
‘Jael?’ Aleksander was by her side, smiling at her. ‘Here, have some water. It will help your throat.’ He could see her struggling to swallow.
She took the cup. ‘We have to go home,’ she rasped.
‘You’re not strong enough to even sit up yet,’ Astrid said from behind Aleksander. ‘You’ll need more time. More rest.’
Jael frowned.
Aleksander smiled.
‘Broth,’ Jael croaked, sipping the water. ‘Give me the broth.’ Her stomach heaved, and she thought she might vomit. Handing Aleksander the cup, her head fell back onto the pillow.
She tried not to think about her daughter, knowing that she was there.
Somewhere.
Waiting.
‘Tomorrow,’ Jael whispered, closing her eyes. ‘I’ll be out of bed tomorrow.’
7
Getta had barely spoken to Raymon since the birth of their son, and Raymon was unable to think clearly because of it. He was caught between wanting a wife who approved of his decisions, and knowing that the decisions he needed to make would not please his wife.
But they would hopefully save his kingdom. If only Getta could see that.
At least he had his mother.
Ravenna smiled at her son as they stood in the doorway of the armourer’s hut, watching him bellow at his apprentices, eager to impress the king with both the quality of his product and the workmanship of his men. ‘She will come around in time. Motherhood can be daunting. Everything is new. Getta has much to occupy herself with right now.’
‘She will not change her mind,’ Raymon declared, turning around with a weary sigh. He was waiting to try on his new mail shirt. It was raining, a light drizzle drifting across Ollsvik’s square, and he frowned into it.
Ravenna pulled her hood up over her long, golden hair, slipping her arm through Raymon’s. ‘She will soften eventually. Or, at least, she will come to see that it is more important to protect the kingdom than to seek revenge. Surely revenge can wait? Keeping your son safe is what is important now, no matter what alliances you must make to do so. Alliances are not forever, as we Iskavallans know,’ she smiled wryly. ‘They only need to be useful for a time.’
Raymon nodded, watching the head of his army winding his way through the crowded square with a stranger. His shoulders tensed as the men walked towards them. ‘Tolbert?’
‘My lord,’ Tolbert said, motioning for the man to step forward. ‘Another messenger from Andala.’
Ravenna tightened her grip on her son’s arm.
Raymon glanced around, noticing the many curious Iskavallans looking their way. ‘Let us walk, somewhere we can speak freely.’ And he indicated for the Andalan and Tolbert to follow him towards the harbour. ‘What news do you bring?’ he asked once they had passed through the open gates, heading for the piers.
The lanky, young man took a deep breath. ‘The King of Brekka wishes to meet with you urgently, my lord. There has been... an attack. A new threat. A danger to both our kingdoms.’
Raymon frowned. The rain was settling in now, and he thought of going back to the hall, but he didn’t want to see Getta. And he didn’t want Getta to see the messenger. ‘What threat?’
The young man dug into his pouch with dirty fingers and retrieved a crumpled scroll. ‘Everything is in here, my lord.’ He handed the scroll to Raymon, who swallowed, uncertain whether he wanted to know what had happened, but completely certain that whatever it was would only widen the great chasm between him and his wife.
‘I want to know the truth, Mother,’ Gisila demanded, not letting Edela past as she tried to turn down the road towards her cottage. ‘Jael is my daughter.
You can’t keep it from me! Is it the sickness? Does she have the sickness?’
Edela had hoped to avoid her eldest daughter. She knew that Jael hated to be fussed over, and she had promised to keep her pregnancy a secret, but she could see the panic and worry in Gisila’s eyes. Glancing around, she tugged her out of the way of a pair of horses pulling a cart of dragon bits towards the harbour gates. ‘She has lost a baby.’ The words brought tears to Edela’s eyes again. The emotion she felt was raw; a confused mix of pain for Jael and anger at herself.
And the gods.
Though, she supposed, that was likely unfair.
Gisila gasped, her eyes round with surprise. ‘Baby? You knew she was pregnant?’
‘I did, yes,’ Edela murmured. ‘And ssshhh, it is not for everyone’s ears. That is Jael’s secret to tell, not mine. I promised her that no one would know. Not even you. She didn’t want her enemies finding out.’
Gisila nodded distractedly. ‘But is she alright?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Edela admitted, worry creeping into her voice. ‘She lost a lot of blood. I think it would have killed another woman, but Jael is quite stubborn, as we both know.’ Edela tried to look more confident than she felt. Everything she believed was plagued by doubts, and those doubts were growing louder than any other thought in her head.
How could she trust her dreams if even the gods were powerless against Draguta now?
‘But do you see her coming home? Do you see her... surviving?’
Edela took a deep breath, feeling as troubled as Gisila looked. ‘I... don’t know.’ It was honest but not reassuring to either of them.
‘Oh.’
‘But we both know Jael, so that is what we must hold onto now. Jael wouldn’t abandon us, would she? She’ll cling to life, however hard it is. She will not give in easily.’
Thorgils and Aleksander had escaped the cottage for a few cups of ale in the hall. It helped to pass the time, at first, but their minds were soon drawn back to the uncertainty of what was going to happen with Jael; worrying about how long they had been away from Andala, and what might be happening in their absence.
‘I’ve been thinking that you should go back,’ Aleksander said. ‘If you’re well enough to ride on your own?’
Thorgils looked up from a surprisingly delicious bowl of mutton stew in surprise. ‘Go back? To Andala?’
‘You could tell them what’s happened. Take the book to Edela.’ Aleksander finally swallowed a doughy dumpling and reached for his ale. ‘I need to stay with Jael. She might think she’s getting out of bed tomorrow, but that doesn’t look likely. If she keeps improving it will take a few days, at least, and I’m not sure we can wait that long.’
It wasn’t a bad idea, Thorgils supposed, and he was eager to get back to Isaura, but he didn’t want to leave Jael.
She hadn’t left him.
Aleksander could sense his hesitation. ‘Jael would want you to go. We both know that. The book needs to get to Edela. Everyone will be safer if she has it.’
Thorgils nodded. ‘I will, then.’ He didn’t like saying it, though. ‘In the morning.’
‘Good. I think we’ll need to get you one more horse. Best you don’t break Rufus by pushing him too hard. I’ll bring Gus back. Save him the pleasure of your giant arse.’
Thorgils grinned. ‘Well, I’m not sure Gus would agree with you there. We have a bond, he and I.’
‘Is that right? Gant wouldn’t be happy to hear that. He’s very protective of him. Gus is a beast in battle.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘Tomorrow, then,’ Aleksander said, taking a long drink of ale, the remnants of the doughy dumpling stuck in his throat now.
‘Tomorrow,’ Thorgils nodded, feeling his stomach clench.
‘Hmmm...’ Dragmall retreated beneath his long, white hair which hung over his face as he bent forward. He was shy. Uncomfortable with people. He liked his cave and his animals. The agreeable silence of solitude.
He frowned, remembering that he had liked Else once too.
‘An apoplexy, you say?’ Turning back to his shelf, he ran his eye over the various jars and bottles he had carefully balanced on it. Just enough so that it didn’t tip one way or the other. ‘There may be things I can do. Though, from what you’ve said, perhaps it is a curse...’ He shuddered, having heard all about Draguta Teros. ‘I suppose I could take a look and –’
‘Good!’ Else smiled from near the mouth of the cave. She was still dripping from the walk and not inclined to sit near the fire that was belching fragrant smoke from one end of the cave to the other. ‘I shall tell the king to expect you tomorrow. Perhaps noon?’
Dragmall peered at Else in surprise. His cave was long but not especially high and being a tall man, he had become so used to leaning over that he now had a permanent stoop. It didn’t stop him brushing his head against the herbs drying in looping rows across the ceiling. ‘I will be there. But now you must tell me why you’ve really come? It is not long since I could almost read your mind, Else.’
Else blushed, turning to Meena who hovered behind her. ‘I want you to protect Meena, here. She needs our help. The Book of Darkness is in her chamber. It will try to claim her, won’t it? All that dark magic? It has surely claimed the king. He was not this way before he found it.’
Dragmall’s watery, brown eyes blinked rapidly. He knew who Meena was. He had seen the mousey little creature shuffling along behind Varna Gallas since she was a girl. And he had never liked Varna. She was evil through and through.
But Meena?
He studied the trembling, twitching woman. ‘Have you ever been tattooed before?’ he asked. ‘It hurts, you know. Not sure you look able to take such pain?’
‘Tattooed?’ Meena’s eyes were wide. ‘What do you mean?’ She looked at Else, wondering what they were both talking about.
‘Dragmall knows how to protect us from dark magic. He tattooed me many years ago when he wanted to keep me safe from your grandmother, who had a habit of doing things to those she didn’t like. And she didn’t like Dragmall, and because he liked me, Varna didn’t like me either. So Dragmall tattooed my arms with symbols of protection. It kept me safe.’
‘But, but...’ Meena’s mind was whirring. ‘Jaeger would see. He would want to know what they were for. He would find them.’ Her cheeks reddened at the thought of it.
‘Hmmm, yes, well that is true,’ Else muttered, looking at Dragmall.
‘You could say they are for wisdom,’ Dragmall suggested. ‘The symbols of the old gods are powerful. You could say that they will help you in your quest to read the book.’
Meena and Else stared at him.
‘Well, I do see some things,’ Dragmall said shyly. ‘Hear some things too. What Jaeger wants is no secret.’ He turned to Meena. ‘You are wrong to think that you can defeat him and the book and Draguta as well. There are others destined for that dangerous fate. But you can make yourself safe, and you should. You have a part to play, I’m sure. Tell Jaeger whatever you need to, but know that if you do not get tattooed, your soul will be consumed by that book as his has been.’
Meena stared at Dragmall for a moment, jumping as a fat, white cat wound its way around her legs, miaowing loudly. She nodded. ‘I will, then. Get tattooed. Please.’
Raymon hadn’t even made it through the first line of Axl Furyck’s note before Getta was snapping at him. ‘You cannot help them! If there is some danger, they brought it on themselves. The gods have cursed them for their murderous ways! You must remain here. Protect the fort. Your people. Our family!’
They were in bed, and although Getta was whispering, she was loud enough to wake their newborn son, who started whimpering. Leaning over his basket, Getta stuck her fingertip near Lothar’s lips, and he started sucking on it. ‘You would think of putting our son in danger?’
‘Of course not, which is why I’m going to meet with Axl Furyck. I have to find out how we can work together to stop any threat to Iskavall. To you and Lothar
.’ Raymon rolled over, wanting to be alone with his thoughts. He was beginning to discover how much clearer they became without his wife’s voice in his ear.
‘But he will just corrupt you!’ Getta grumbled. ‘Trick you. He wants your men. He wishes to destroy us all!’
Raymon closed his eyes. ‘I must hear him out. See what he intends. I will not be a king hiding inside my fort, Getta. A weak king will not survive in this kingdom. I must show strength. A willingness to fight for our people. I can’t cower in my hall, hoping the danger will not find us.’ He swallowed. The words came without thinking, but Raymon felt his reluctance in the wake of them, knowing that the path he was heading down, he was surely heading down alone. He couldn’t even hear Getta breathing, but he fought the urge to say any more. He would not keep her safe by being weak. And as much as he was desperate for her to stop being angry at him, he was not going to lose her by doing her bidding.
For if the threat Axl Furyck had described in his note was as dire as he suggested, none of them would be safe for long.
Jael had found her way back again.
To where, she didn’t know, but Eadmund was there, slumped over the table, clearly exhausted. His plate had been only lightly picked at. He looked ready for bed.
Draguta didn’t notice as she stared into her circle.
Draguta. It was Draguta. Jael knew that now. She wanted to stab Toothpick through her neck, take Eadmund and run, but there was no Toothpick in her scabbard, and she was as useless as a breath of wind.
‘Perhaps sleep would help?’ Draguta suggested, watching Eadmund’s eyes close.
Eadmund jerked his head up, blinking. ‘Who are you watching?’ he wondered, ignoring her advice. ‘Evaine?’
‘No. I am watching your wife.’
‘Why?’
Jael leaned over the table, again wanting to see something in the circle. Its symbols glowed like burning embers, but there was nothing inside them. Nothing that she could see at least.
