by A. E. Rayne
Eddeth was glad to see her as she flung open the door, surprised by the bloody symbol in the middle of Alys’ forehead. And pleased. ‘It worked, then? My powder?’
Alys didn’t have time to congratulate her about that. She glanced at Agnette, who was bent over, hands on the bed, Bjarni beside her. ‘I need Bjarni. Agnette, I’m sorry, Eddeth will stay with you now.’ She wished that wasn’t true as Eddeth was a steady hand beside her, but she needed to ensure that both Agnette and her child lived.
‘Go!’ Agnette grunted, unable to utter anything else.
Bjarni looked torn, but he kissed his wife’s head. ‘I’ll return as soon as I can.’
Agnette was moaning low like a mournful creature stuck in a trap, body hunched over, wanting it to end, unable to reply.
With one last look at Eddeth, Alys disappeared outside with Bjarni, hoping the flying powder would keep working a while longer.
They had the catapults positioned around the square, anticipating an attack on their flanks, but the pre-dawn darkness was hampering the efforts of Ludo’s helpers, who were struggling to see him or hear his calls, their ears still ringing with the piercing cries of the raven. They stumbled around, knocking into each other, confusing his instructions, making a complete mess of things.
Ludo was no better, unable to hear Sigurd, who flailed his hands from the inner wall. He was unable to see what he meant either. And then there was the terror of the boulders as they flew ever closer to the square.
Ludo could hear the panic above him as Tulia ran the Ullaberg women with Amir, and Sigurd tried to cobble together as many archers as he could. Some had fallen into the inner courtyard and the square, the fall killing them, though most had left their bows behind.
‘We have to keep their catapults back!’ Sigurd shouted at Amir, who nodded, just managing to make out what he meant. ‘Hit them hard now! Fire-arrows!’
Tulia was bellowing at the women, arm in the air. ‘Again! Nock!’ The steady stream of mail-piercing arrows would surely keep those Slussfall men on their toes, halting any assault they planned to make on the gates.
But Hakon Vettel’s men were not content with simply flinging catapults their way, and now, the first waves of enemy arrows started flying. Tulia heard it late, her ears still ringing, but she screamed. ‘Down! Get down!’ Too late for one of her women, who got an arrow through the arm, falling back with a shriek. ‘Stay down!’ Tulia warned, eyes seeking Amir in the darkness. He was lying on the rampart walk, hand on Ilene, and he rolled over, winking at his sister before growling at the women.
‘Up! Now!’
Alys heard the shouting from the walls, the thunderous booms of the boulders as they smashed into rock, shattering it, deadly shards flying through the air.
Bjarni blinked in horror at the sight of the inner wall, which had already sustained some damage, eyes widening at the bodies scattered beneath it. ‘I need to watch the hall!’ he panicked, turning back to the doors, wanting to keep his wife safe.
‘I need your help, Bjarni!’ Alys’ mind skipped quickly, seeing so many possibilities all of a sudden. And lifting the basket she’d taken from her chamber, she shoved it at him. ‘We can help them! But only if we hurry!’
Bjarni looked down at the herbs, and sniffing, he smiled.
Mother may have taken the first line of archers off the walls, but there were more than enough still up there doing damage to their men. Hakon felt confident, though, knowing he had men to spare. He swung his shield up, deflecting an arrow meant for his head. They certainly appeared to be concentrating their firepower in his direction.
He felt flattered.
‘Loose!’ Ivan was yelling from his limping horse, sword in the air, constantly moving and bellowing, working their men with confidence. He glanced around at Hakon, as he did every few moments, pleased to see that his cousin was holding his place.
Everything was flowing seamlessly around them now, as it always should have done.
The catapults swung back and forth in a devastating rhythm, sending burning boulders crashing into the stone defenses in a hail of fire. He could hear the screams coming from before him now, instead of all around him, and Ivan’s confidence soared. ‘Forward!’ he urged. ‘Move forward!’
Bjarni and Ludo worked quickly, commandeering as many hands as they could to quickly roll the ropes into boulders, slathering them with sticky pitch and more rope, wrapping them in Eddeth’s herbs. The hastily-made boulders were rushed to the catapults, loaded into their spoons.
‘Aarrghh!’
Alys jumped as a boulder crashed straight through the inner wall ramparts, sending everyone flying. Ludo lunged at her, knocking her out of its path, both of them rolling as the boulder landed in the square, breaking off the outer branches of Valera’s Tree, setting it alight.
‘Water!’ Bjarni shouted as Ludo pulled a shaken Alys back to her feet. ‘The tree! The tree!’ Eyes sweeping the hall doors, Bjarni felt sick, hoping Agnette was alright.
Ludo was bellowing at the remaining catapult crews, who were yelling at each other to watch out as boulders rained over them. Two catapults were smashed. More screaming. One man was killed instantly, lost beneath the giant rock.
Alys’ chest was aching. ‘Hurry!’ she implored, her hand on Ludo’s arm. ‘Hurry!’ And turning away from the square, she ran back to the hall, needing to get to her chamber.
The hall guards stepped aside with speed, and Alys hurried, eyes down, pushing her way through the crush of bodies. More and more people were making their way into the hall now, carrying the injured, escaping flying boulders and flaming cottages. Gerda was up on a table, soundly oddly calm, taking charge, arms moving in every direction.
Eddeth was pacing the bedchamber when Alys burst in.
Alys was surprised. ‘What are you doing here? What about Agnette?’
‘I found Irma Darri. She can birth a goat or a cow, so I’m sure she can birth a baby. I fear that dreamer witch will try something else, and you need my help to stop her! Don’t deny you do!’ Eddeth bent over, scooping up her grandmother’s book which lay open on the floor. ‘There is this.’ She shoved it at Alys, pointing to a spell. ‘It’s not going to be easy. Likely impossible! But we should try, yes?’
Alys looked down the page, reading quickly, not really understanding. ‘But how can I bind her to me, the dreamer isn’t here. I have nothing of hers to use.’
‘Yes, there is that problem.’ Eddeth scratched her wart, thinking, but the pounding of boulders assaulting the fort had her nerves twitching, and she couldn’t get to the thought she so desperately knew was waiting for her.
Alys flicked through the pages with trembling hands, doubting there was anything they could do. She froze. ‘This! What about this?’ She bit her tongue as the chamber shook, glancing up at the rafters, dust sprinkling down on her head.
Eddeth lifted an eyebrow, scanning the list of items required. ‘Oh, so you think you can wrangle this? My, my... wouldn’t that be something.’ And rubbing a hand over her chin, her eyes widened, seeing the possibilities. ‘I have everything. More than everything we need. Except blood! You’ll need to go and kill something. I can get to work in here, prepare the potion for you.’ She drew her knife from its scabbard, aiming the haft at Alys’ chest. ‘Here. Get the first beast you can find. Take it to the tree. I’ll meet you there!’
Alys nodded, trying not to think. She would just do.
It didn’t matter if it seemed impossible.
For if they couldn’t get rid of Hakon Vettel’s dreamer, she would kill them all. And then she would kill Lotta.
They had to hurry.
Sigurd took an arrow in the shoulder. ‘Oh, fuck!’ he screamed furiously, spinning back behind the rampart wall, teeth gritted.
‘Sigurd!’ Tulia ran to him, worry in her eyes. ‘Here! Hold on!’ And dropping her bow, she grabbed the arrow shaft in both hands, snapping off the end.
‘Aarrghh!’
‘Now try not to get any more!
’ she warned, bending to pick up her bow, running back to the women, some of whom were panicking now. Even Amir looked daunted by the task that lay ahead of them, as more and more boulders devastated the fort. ‘Nock!’ she yelled, her voice hoarse, sensing they were running low on arrows. And leaning over the rampart wall, she called down into the square, to the children who were collecting the fallen arrows with some of Ludo’s women. ‘More arrows! Hurry!’
Reinar heard her as his archers nocked their own arrows. The low wall was bearing the brunt of the attack, some parts of the ramparts completely devastated now. He would have to signal the retreat into the inner fort soon. And though he could sense that was coming, he wasn’t prepared to give up his wall just yet.
‘Watch out!’
Reinar heard the call too late, his ears still reverberating with the sound of screeching birds, and he moved slowly, the boulder smashing through the wall, hitting Reinar on the shoulder, knocking him down to the rampart walk.
‘Reinar!’ Sigurd saw his brother fall. ‘Reinar!’ He spun away as another wave of arrows hissed towards him; waiting for them to pass before turning back, eyes on the low wall, but there was no sign of his brother.
Mother drew symbols in the dirt with her bone-handled knife.
Human bone.
She smiled. Her trusty knife had been passed down through generations of dreamers who knew the power of herbs and symbols and chants. Dreamers who hid in shadows and came together in secret to share their dark knowledge. To grow stronger. More powerful. To unite as one force.
To battle the light.
It was always a battle of dark and light, Mother knew. Though, in these unsettled times, darkness had never had a better chance of winning.
Leaning forward, she squeezed the last drops of blood into the bowl, and dipping her knife into the mixture again, she finished her circle.
The noise of the battle was a hum in the distance now, the beat of her heart in perfect harmony with Falla’s drumming. ‘You will not stop. If you do, I will kill you.’ And meaning every word, Mother lifted the bowl to her mouth and drank the potion, licking her lips when she was done.
Smiling now, she took her position inside the circle, starting her dance.
Hakon watched the destruction of Ottby’s walls with glee, his father’s face in his mind, thinking of how proud he would be. All thoughts of the day before had gone now. He could almost taste victory as his men surged forward behind Ivan. His eyes snapped to Alef Olstein, who was bringing up their right flank with his Vika men. Their left flank was moving too. They would enclose the fort from three sides, grabbing hold of the walls in a pincer move until they crushed it like an egg.
And then he could taste something else on his tongue.
He could smell it in his nostrils.
The familiarity of that smoke sent shivers down Hakon’s spine. He spun around, seeing the smoke rising from the ground in thick waves again. Heart thudding with panic, he sought out his cousin. ‘Ivan! Ivan! The smoke!’ But his voice was lost in the screams as more boulders soared over the walls, flames flying.
Lief heard him, though, and he saw the smoke lifting from the field. Wheeling his horse around, he pointed to his men. ‘Move back!’ he cried. ‘Move back!’
‘Ivan!’ Hakon tried again, spurring his horse through the crush of bodies and burning catapults.
This time Ivan heard him, and he spun his horse around, but not in time to avoid getting an arrow in his upper right arm. He yelped, trying to grab the reins tighter, but his arm wouldn’t work, and then another arrow thudded into his back. Lief powered through the men, kicking his horse sharply, riding for Ivan, who had slumped forward in his saddle. The smoke was thickening, and he could feel his thoughts starting to drift away from him again. Twisting around, Lief yelled at Hakon. ‘Get everyone back!’ And reaching Ivan’s horse, he grabbed its reins, pulling it through the smoke, away from the catapults which had suddenly slowed, the men panicking again, not knowing what to do; some standing, some running. It was quickly becoming chaos.
Lief, eyes on a frozen Hakon, could feel everything falling apart.
And then the wind came rushing towards them across the field, blowing from the forest in an almighty gust, knocking Lief off his horse, still clinging to two sets of reins.
Sweeping the smoke away from the field, towards the fort.
48
‘Reinar!’ Sigurd had left the inner wall and hurried through the gates to find his brother. Instead, he found Torvig, who had dragged Reinar down the stairs of the guard tower, unconscious, his face bloodied, his left arm hanging awkwardly by his side. Sigurd grabbed Reinar’s other arm, and together, they helped him back into the fort, across the chaotic square.
‘We’ll get him to the hall, then you have to bring everyone off the low wall! They need to get inside!’ Sigurd yelled, his head spinning suddenly, fragrant smoke strong in his nostrils.
‘Reinar!’ Bjarni came rushing over. ‘I’ll take him.’ And freeing up Torvig to head back through the fort, Bjarni helped Sigurd get his brother into the hall. ‘Smoke’s coming back at us!’
‘What?’ Sigurd shook his head, ears still ringing. ‘What?’
‘Alys and I used Eddeth’s herbs. Stuck them to the rope balls with pitch! Sent them over the walls. But the wind! Move!’ Bjarni yelled at the men and women milling around the hall doors. ‘Get out of my way!’ And struggling inside, they found a bench and laid Reinar down.
Gerda shrieked, rushing forward. ‘Reinar!’
Sigurd turned to Bjarni. ‘We have to get everyone off the low wall! Help me!’
Bjarni nodded, hearing the roar of the wind as it tore through the fort. And grabbing hold of Gerda’s arm, he tried to get her attention. ‘We need cloth around our faces! Quick!’ Bending down, he tore strips off her dress, ignoring her complaints. And standing up, Bjarni handed a piece of cloth to each of them. ‘Tie these around your faces. Now!’ And with one worried look at Reinar, who had not yet opened his eyes, he headed out of the hall, Sigurd following after him.
The wind hit his face like a splash of cold water, and Hakon felt clear-headed; refreshed even. And as Lief ordered two men to take Ivan away, back to the tents where the healers were working hard, Hakon was busy pulling his men together, aiming them once again at the damaged walls. Thick smoke was shrouding the stone fortress now, and he knew that soon those men would be suffering just as badly as they had the day before.
It was time to make them pay.
Mother wasn’t satisfied with the wind.
She had to work quickly now. Any advantage gained would be lost once the smoke dissipated. So, bending over, she picked up her second bowl of potion, tipping the thick liquid down her parched throat.
Falla watched her, trying not to gag, hoping Mother could save the army, hoping she could lead them to victory. She didn’t trust any of those men out there, who seemed obsessed with whatever the victory meant to them personally. But it didn’t matter to Falla who became a famed warrior, or who was chosen by Thenor, feted by the gods. She just wanted her husband to live. To live and return to her so they could get out of this horrible place where they were scraping in the dirt, terrorised by smoke and war.
Eyes on Mother, she felt her tension ease as the old woman lay on the ground, closing her eyes. For all that she feared and loathed the dreamer, there was nobody she trusted more to save them.
And closing her own eyes, Falla tapped the drum, listening as Mother started chanting.
‘Fall back!’ Sigurd shouted until his voice broke. The arrow was still sticking out of his shoulder, blood soaking his tunic, occasionally oozing, but the pain had dulled now. Whether that was the strong smoke or the chaos swirling around him, he didn’t know. But his mind was focused solely on getting everyone inside. They had to abandon the low wall. It was hard not to let that undo their confidence.
Everyone was starting to panic.
He’d yelled up to Tulia, showing her the cloth tied around his f
ace, and she’d quickly ordered everyone on the wall to tear their own tunics. It would help, he hoped, though Sigurd could still feel the smoke weaving around his mind, trying to undo his thoughts. ‘Fall back!’ he yelled again as Bjarni struggled past him with an injured man, both of them coughing.
There were many injured men.
Sigurd could hear the first boom of a battering ram striking the outer gates now. ‘Pull the barricades in place!’ he shouted, pointing to the last few men. ‘Get them in front of the gates! Hurry!’ Bending down, he scooped up a handful of arrows. ‘Grab what you can!’ And turning away, Sigurd headed for the inner gates, jaw working hard, eyes blinking, trying to keep control of his mind.
Alys and Eddeth worked their way through the hall, baskets and bowls in their hands.
‘The smoke!’ Eddeth screeched. ‘The smoke!’
Alys could smell it, though there was little time for regret now. ‘But we have to get outside. We need to go to the tree!’
Eddeth spun around, dropping her baskets onto a table, tearing off the bottom of her tunic, dipping it in the nearest cup of ale. ‘Turn around!’ And she pulled the dripping cloth across Alys’ face, tying it tightly across the back of her head. ‘My turn!’ And quickly ripping off another wide strip of cloth, Eddeth dipped it into the ale, securing it around her own face. ‘We must hurry,’ she mumbled, screwing up her nose in annoyance. ‘Or that woman will ruin everything!’
Alys’ attention was drawn to Gerda, who she could suddenly hear sobbing. And then she saw why. ‘Reinar!’ she cried, seeing him lying on the bench, and she ran forward, Eddeth beside her. ‘Reinar! What happened?’
‘Sigurd brought him in,’ Gerda sobbed. ‘He’s been badly injured. He won’t wake up!’
