Vale of the Gods

by A. E. Rayne

  Berrick watched him go with a grumble before turning back to the tent, happy to hide from the storm.

  ‘A storm! A storm! Of course there’s a storm!’ Draguta laughed, full of good humour despite the hour.

  They were in the hall, standing around the map table: Draguta, Brill, Meena, Ballack and a handful of yawning slaves ready to assist their mistress, wondering what she was talking about.

  All of them waiting to hear what Draguta needed from them.

  But Draguta was barely there. Her glazed eyes were focused on Tokka as an odd-looking Jaeger shrugged on his mail shirt; watching Eadmund at the other end of that tiny settlement, running through the rain, heading for his men.

  It was dark, but the lightning, when it came, was helpful.

  Draguta was grateful.

  Grateful to those desperate gods who were so powerless now.

  Grateful for their help.

  ‘Girl!’ she snapped at Meena, suddenly back in Hest. ‘You have my first potion ready?’

  Meena looked puzzled.

  ‘You do have them in order, as I requested?’ Draguta grumbled. ‘How else were we going to tell them apart? The first one is the mead, yes?’

  Meena was tired, having only just fallen asleep when Brill hammered on her chamber door, dragging her out of bed, but she nodded, understanding now.

  ‘Well, bring it to me. I need it now! And the fire, Brill, get that higher. Ballack can help you. I assume you have more wood than that? We will need it!’

  Her assistants rushed around as Draguta’s eyes were drawn back to the map table where the blood-red symbols glowed around its wooden edge, guiding her, showing her everything she needed to see. ‘Hurry up!’ she demanded. ‘They will not wait for any of you! Get those herbs smoking, Meena Gallas! It is time to begin!’

  Mud. Jagged shards of lightning revealed nothing but mud.

  Jaeger was shivering, shaking as he ran, his mind a twisted pile of bracken, tangled with jarring thoughts, half trapped in his dream, worried that Draguta wasn’t watching. That she wouldn’t be able to help them.

  There were men all along the wall. Looking up, he could see silhouettes moving – little black shadows, tiny as ants – and they were moving quickly, alert to the danger below. ‘Go! Go! Go!’ he ordered, motioning to the right with one hand, to the left with the other. ‘Hurry!’ And Jaeger’s men crept towards the wall, half following Gunter, who would head down the hill, drawing fire. The other half trailed after Jaeger. Eadmund and Berger were further east where they would wait for his signal. ‘Stay out of their line of sight!’ he called hoarsely, though the rain hammered down on them, drowning his words. Jaeger shook even more, imagining for a moment how pleasant it would feel to be sitting by his fire with Meena. Blinking rain out of his eyes and his wandering thoughts far away, he tried to concentrate.

  Shouts along the ramparts.

  Flaming arrows lit up the angry sky, flying fast enough to beat back the threat of rain.

  Jaeger ran, pinning himself against the stone wall, his chest heaving as he waited, listening, hands flat against the dripping stone.

  They had planned this out. He had talked it through with Eadmund until they both wanted to kill each other.

  Draguta had insisted that they just needed to be ready.

  They just had to wait for her.

  Briggit nodded at Morana Gallas, who hid beneath her dark hood as she joined the queen and her Followers in the rain-lashed square, directly in front of the castle. Briggit had not wanted to hide away. She did not want to miss what Draguta would do.

  Monsters and creatures from the Book of Darkness?

  Those that had belonged to Raemus himself?

  Briggit didn’t want to miss this.

  She had cast a circle in the square before night had fallen, scraping it into the cobblestones, sacrificing three slaves and one horse; mixing their blood with herbs and spices, her own blood too. She had poured the mixture into the indentations in the stone and cast a spell. A spell to keep them safe within the circle while they battled their enemies. A dreamer circle of protection that would not be broken, could not be broken, of that Briggit was certain.

  She watched Morana take her place on the opposite side of the circle. She was a knowledgeable dreamer, Briggit knew, and her hatred of Draguta was like a weapon. She would help keep the circle secure.

  Draguta might think that she could come into her kingdom, and take whatever she wanted, but she had never fought The Following of Helsabor. Their magic had been taught to them by Raemus himself.

  Handed down for generations. Never forgotten.

  As Draguta would soon find out.

  Jael was more tired than she’d realised, and she had fallen back to sleep quickly, her mind focused on Eadmund, but when she found herself in a dream, she saw Draguta stalking around a map table.

  They were in Hest’s hall.

  The fire burning in the long stone hearth crackled noisily. Jael glanced around, but there was no Amma. No Sigmund. There was that bug-eyed girl she remembered from her time in Hest, an enormous shaven-headed slave, a morose-looking servant, and Draguta herself.

  Jael shook, staring down at her bare feet, cold on the flagstones.

  She walked closer, wanting to hear what Draguta was saying, listening to the sound of a storm. Thunder booming. Rain and wind too. Men screaming, running. The sound of horses.

  Jael could feel the rain dripping on her, splashing her feet.

  She was so cold.

  Placing the silver goblet near the edge of the map table, Draguta slipped a knife from her belt; a beautiful ivory-handled knife, symbols etched along its haft.

  Just like Toothpick.

  Jael shivered as she leaned forward, watching Draguta slide the blade across her palm, dropping it to the table as she squeezed her blood over the map, forming what looked like a circle.

  Draguta was chanting as she smoothed the bloody line with a long finger. ‘The second bowl now, Meena Gallas.’ Her voice was distant, quiet, but Meena had been waiting for her, and she carried the bowl forward quickly.

  Jael swallowed, watching as Draguta drank from it before picking up two wooden figures from the table and dunking them into the bowl. Pulling them out again, she placed them back on the table, dark liquid oozing over the map.

  ‘And now my boxes, Ballack. The big one first.’

  Jael turned, watching as the slave came forward carrying a large wooden box. He placed it on the table beside Draguta, attempting to open the lid.

  She shooed him away, her eyes glazed. ‘That is not for you.’ And watching as Ballack retreated to the blazing fire, Draguta opened the box, pulling out...

  Jael frowned, feeling herself stumble, worried that she was losing the dream as everything started to blur.

  What was that?

  Morana watched Briggit, pleased that she had been included in the circle for the defense of Angard. Nobody knew Draguta as she did. Nobody knew what the Book of Darkness could do.

  Nobody living at least.

  ‘She is coming!’ Briggit called, her voice reverberating around the Followers. The dreamers, all women, were dressed in simple black robes, forming the outer circle, of which Morana and Briggit were a part. The inner circles contained the rest of the Followers, mostly men. ‘Can you feel it? That bitch thinks she can kill us! Destroy the last stronghold of The Following! But our people are Raemus’ finest! Our ancestors were taught by him! This was his home once! We are his people! We will succeed for him!’

  Morana scowled, unimpressed with the wild-eyed dramatics of the queen.

  She could feel the warmth of the ritual mead in her chest. She could taste the familiar iron tang of blood in the air. ‘Draguta will know that we are here!’ she called across the circle, rain splashing her face. ‘She is watching!’

  ‘I hope so,’ Briggit smiled, her bloody teeth bright in the storm.

  Eadmund leaned against the wall, panting, wet through, his body jolted by each boom of
thunder. It was coming in louder and louder bursts now, dropping lower.

  His teeth were chattering. He should have grabbed his cloak.

  Berger was there, his usually hooded eyes bursting open. ‘My lord!’ he screamed, pointing at the wall as hot coals were tipped down from the ramparts; sparks flying as the coals flew through the rain.

  ‘Look out!’ Eadmund cried, running away from the wall, wet boots slipping on gravel. Fire arrows shot down from above, landing in front of them, sizzling as they dug into the sloppy ground. ‘Back to the wall!’ It was no surprise, of course, but they were caught between being burned alive or being burned alive. The challenge of the terrain had been so great that no siege engines had been able to travel, and the wall was too sheer, too tall to climb, as no doubt the Halvardars had intended. ‘Archers!’ he bellowed. ‘Fire at will!’ His archers were hidden behind boulders staked around their rocky campsite. ‘Fire! Now!’

  How long was she going to take? How long was she going to take?

  Jaeger was shivering uncontrollably, sheltering against the wall, watching the burning arrows spluttering around them. The rain fell even harder, finally dousing the flames, but the hot coals were more stubborn, their burning heat fighting the rain’s determined deluge.

  He wondered where Draguta was.

  What she was waiting for?

  He felt strange, his body tingling, everything suddenly turning hazy.

  Draguta sighed contentedly, her eyes on the items she had removed from the wooden box.

  Jael shuddered, suddenly reminded of the ravens, the dragon, the barsk. She edged closer, trying to see what Draguta was holding, and as Draguta turned, the flames from the hearth flickered, making them shimmer, sparkling like blue and green waves. Scales, Jael realised with a frown. They reminded her of fish scales. And she froze, thinking about the sea serpent she had killed.

  ‘When all old kings are murdered, when ravens rule the sky...’ Draguta’s voice was that of a girl. She did not sound like herself at all. ‘Ravens?’ she laughed, her own voice returning with a roar. ‘Why use a bird when you can use a beast?’

  Eadmund’s guts were griping, but not from fear. It was as though he had eaten something rotten. He could taste it in his mouth; his mouth which was suddenly full of bile. He blinked, trying to focus, but he couldn’t clear his mind.

  ‘Aarrghh!’

  His men were screaming, on fire, as some of the flaming arrows struck their targets, hot coals continuing to tumble over the wall, burning liquid too. He could smell fish.

  He needed to focus.

  There was no sign of Draguta, but they couldn’t remain holding the same position much longer. He had to do something. He couldn’t let the Hestians be slaughtered.

  And then Eadmund felt a sudden rush overhead; a gust of wind so strong that he was knocked to the ground, pressed flat against the sodden earth.

  His men were all down too. Flattened. Unable to stand as the long shadows passed overhead, the force of the wind pinning them where they lay.

  ‘Hold the circle!’ Briggit cried, though she did not open her mouth. She had no need to speak when she could communicate with her mind, far away from Draguta’s open ears. ‘We hold here!’ And gripping Sabine’s and Lillith’s wet hands, she began to chant.

  Ebbert had his men lined up in front of them.

  He was the first to die as a powerful sea-green dragon swooped down over the wall, blowing a hot stream of fire all over him and the men who stood beside him, consuming them in a rush of murderous flames.

  ‘Shields up!’ screamed Ebbert’s second-in-command from three rows behind. ‘Shields! Protect the queen! We must protect the –’

  Briggit smiled, pressing her boots against the wet cobblestones.

  Dragons.

  She could stop a few dragons.

  Jaeger hadn’t known what Draguta was going to do, and picking himself off the muddy ground, his men with him, he wasn’t even sure what he had seen. Lightning exploded from the rumbling storm clouds, shooting down into the enormous shapes flying over the wall.

  Dragons, Jaeger realised. Bigger than ships.

  Readjusting his armour and his sword, he lifted his eyes up to the top of the wall as the burning Helsaborans started falling over it.

  Screaming. On fire.

  Dying.

  Draguta’s two dragons, the largest one an eye-catching, shimmering blue-green, the other one smaller with jet-black scales and burning red eyes, plunged down from the storm clouds, flying low over the square, turning the scattering army to ash. Their flames could not penetrate the circle of dreamers, though, as the Followers remained united, peering at the terrifying beasts who roared and threatened them as they incinerated the soldiers trying to protect them.

  Briggit could feel her heart racing, heat swelling around her, watching in awe as the magnificent beasts dipped and dived, their wings spanning the width of the castle, their mouths opening and closing like bellows.

  ‘Run!’

  Voices rose in panic around them, soldiers scuttling like beetles, fleeing the flames, trying to escape the exposed square, looking for shelter.

  The black dragon screeched, holding its wings wide as it swooped down towards a line of charging soldiers. Soldiers who were running in the direction of the castle, though they did not even make it to the steps before they were consumed by the killing flames.

  Morana could feel the Followers’ hands gripping hers, surprised that there was no tension in them.

  There was tension in Morana’s hands.

  A lot of tension.

  She had not anticipated that Draguta could conjure up more dragons. Those fire-breathing bloodthirsty giants of the sky had terrorised thousands before Daala had ended them.

  After she had ended Raemus.

  As Morana watched the dragons turning, preparing to target the square again, she panicked, feeling the rain trickling down her back, her eyes on the blood in the indentations of the circle that would soon be washed away.

  ‘What do we do?’ Berger cried, eyes on Eadmund. ‘We can’t climb the wall!’

  They could barely hear each other over the roaring of the dragons, and the terrified cries of the Helsaborans; those on the ramparts; those on the other side of the wall. The dragons may have been burning and killing their enemies, but how were they going to get into Angard to finish the job?

  ‘We wait!’ Eadmund insisted, his voice ringing in his ears. ‘Stay alert! We need to be ready!’

  ‘Ready for what?’

  Eadmund shrugged. He didn’t know.

  Briggit could feel the circle moving. Tremors of fear like waves were starting to shift it. ‘The circle will hold!’ she insisted, trying to keep them all together. ‘I can stop the dragons! We are safe, do not fear!’

  But the dragons were quickly turning and diving over the wall again, side by side now, each fiery mouth bellowing more flames as they flew low towards the castle, aiming for the circle.

  Briggit’s body was pulsing with energy as she closed her eyes, trying another chant, knowing that Draguta’s monsters could be defeated.

  Everything could be defeated with magic.

  Jael could hear Eadmund.

  His voice. The storm. The screams.

  She could hear it all.

  But she stood in the hall behind Draguta who had put down the dragon scales and picked up another box, this one so tiny she had to strain her neck to see what was inside.

  ‘Oh, Briggit,’ Draguta smiled. ‘You think the dragons are my real weapon?’

  And popping open the lid, she pulled out a ring.

  8

  Dragmall held Else close, feeling her heart thump against his chest.

  ‘Who will stop it?’ Else whimpered. ‘Can they stop it?’

  They were hiding in a corner of the house, listening to the terrifying bellow of the dragons swooping over rooftops, shaking the walls. They could hear the panicked cries of the men and women who were fleeing the square; those in t
heir homes as their roofs collapsed, fires sparking in thatch.

  The smoke was quickly overpowering, seeping under the door, through the gaps in the windows, filling the house with thick, eye-watering clouds.

  Dragmall pulled Else closer. ‘Draguta wants Briggit,’ he croaked, hoping to convince them both, trying not to cough. ‘She will not want her dead, will she? What fun will she have then? Don’t worry now. Don’t worry.’

  The fire-breathing dragons soared over the square, avoiding the harbour, Draguta’s sharp voice in their ears keeping them well away from those precious vessels. They attacked the last dregs of the army instead; those whose formations had broken, whose courage had abandoned them. They sought out running soldiers still holding useless swords and shields, incinerating them.

  And they kept going.

  Her army in panicked flames, collapsing around the circle, Briggit kept chanting, an unnaturally calm presence amidst the thundering chaos. Eyes bursting open, she yanked her hands away from Lillith and Sabine, pushing her way through the Followers, into the middle of the circle. Drawing her knife, she cut across her palm, digging into the wound, needing blood.

  The circle of dreamers quickly closed around her, the roars of the dragons louder than the sound of thunder as it clapped above their heads, threatening them all.

  On her knees, black hood falling over her wet face, Briggit drew a symbol, murmuring a chant.

  She knew this. She had seen this in her dreams.

  This symbol would work.

  And throwing back her hood, she watched the flames shooting overhead as the dragons screeched, in pain, their wings suddenly dropping. And then they were spiralling quickly, falling with a speed that had Briggit’s heart stopping, her head craning back, trying to judge where they would land.