Vale of the Gods

by A. E. Rayne

  On her circle? Her harbour? Her castle?

  She held her breath. Waiting.

  The dead dragons fell through the smoky clouds like anchors being dropped into the sea. Those Angardians still in the square scattered, screaming, the storm crashing over their heads.

  And then the dragons.

  The black dragon hit the square with a crash that had the Followers in a heap, knocked over by the sheer force of its impact. The dragon’s neck snapped, its head shattering the cobblestones as it skidded to a stop before the piers, the tip of its long tail slamming down just outside their circle.

  The sea-green dragon smashed into the narrow rows of houses bordering the harbour, one wing dipping into the water, the rest of the dragon’s shimmering body turning the houses to rubble, sparking the thatch into flames.

  Briggit swallowed, trying to focus.

  Sabine was over her quickly, wanting to help her back to her feet.

  ‘Get away!’ Briggit snarled, standing up, her hand dripping with blood. ‘Get back into the circle, you fool! You think she’s done?’ She spun around, glaring at them all with demanding eyes. ‘Do you think Draguta is done?’

  ‘She’s quite right,’ Draguta mused, holding the ring on her finger. It was far too big for her delicate hand. Big and powerful, and ready to kill. ‘I am not... done. But your queen is.’

  Eadmund couldn’t hear the rush of the dragons anymore. He couldn’t hear the men on the ramparts. He could hear the screams of the dying, though.

  The burning. The frightened and the running.

  And he could hear Draguta.

  ‘Are you ready?’ she asked. ‘Are you ready for me?’

  Morana felt herself trembling as she waited, holding her breath, smoke in her eyes. For all that it had taken to escape Draguta’s prison in Hest, how was it possible that she was to be killed here? Or, more likely, taken right back to that ridiculous woman. Back to that chamber. Back to the place where she couldn’t move an arm or a leg.

  Helpless.

  She would welcome death before she allowed that to happen again.

  Morana thought of Raemus, gripping the Followers’ hands, ignoring her fears. Ignoring the panicked voice in her head warning her that she was in danger. She needed to move, it urged, before it was too late!

  Sabine could feel the tension in the air. A heavy fug of smoke blew towards them, and she coughed, needing water. She couldn’t breathe. ‘We need to run,’ she tried, hoping to get Briggit to see sense. ‘Draguta will kill us all!’

  Briggit ignored her, pushing her boots firmly against the cobblestones. ‘We do not break the circle! Draguta is no match for The Following! No match for our symbols! No match for me!’

  And then she felt it beneath her boots. A vibration.

  As though the earth was shaking.

  Jaeger sheathed his sword, confused, almost losing his balance as the ground undulated beneath his boots. ‘Take cover!’ he yelled. ‘Get away from the wall!’

  Jael held her breath, watching as Draguta placed her ringed finger on the map, pushing it down, straight through the bloody line she had drawn.

  Rising up on shaking tiptoes, Jael leaned over the table, peering at the line.

  The line around Helsabor.

  The wall.

  ‘Get back!

  Eadmund could hear Draguta’s warning. ‘Get back!’ he bellowed, running with his men, away from the wall. ‘Hurry! Run!’ And throwing his shield onto his back, he pushed Berger forward, racing after him, trying to keep to his feet as the terrain shook and shuddered all around them. The sky was lightening, the storm was retreating, but it was still almost impossible to see where they were going.

  And then the wall exploded behind them, shards of rubble flying everywhere.

  ‘No!’ Briggit shrieked, watching in horror as an enormous hole was ripped through the wall, rubble flowing down onto the square like a waterfall, cascading over those who had been hiding from the dragons. ‘No!’ She swung around, looking for a soldier. Anyone. Anyone who had men.

  Men with weapons. Arrows.

  She needed archers.

  Where were her archers?

  ‘Into the breach!’ she ordered, finally seeing a man who wasn’t on fire. ‘Get your men to the wall! Now!’

  The man was shaking, not moving, and then Briggit saw why: his left arm was missing, just a bloody stump remaining, dripping blood and gore onto the broken cobblestones. She didn’t care. He could use the arm he had. ‘Find archers! Get men! Get to the wall! You must defend it!’ And spinning back around, she tried to quell her panic.

  Dreamers. Dreamers. Dreamers.

  Dreamers could defeat warriors.

  ‘We stand and fight for Raemus!’ she bellowed. ‘For Raemus!’

  ‘Let’s go!’ Jaeger roared, the dull streaks of dawn light revealing a gaping hole in the wall. He coughed, dust in his throat, irritating his eyes as the tumbling rubble started to settle. ‘Follow me!’ He stumbled, tripping over a collapsed part of the broken wall, grimacing, thinking about his ankle – the ankle Jael Furyck had done so much damage to – and he smiled.

  First Helsabor and Briggit.

  Then Jael Furyck.

  And moving more quickly now, Jaeger lifted his sword in the air as the Hestians surged after him. ‘For Hest! For Hest! We will claim Angard for Hest!’

  Briggit heard the Hestians rushing into the city like a roll of thunder.

  It had been her grandfather’s greatest fear that Angard was too close to the wall. But it was where his ancestors had chosen to build the castle; where the harbour was most amenable, protected from invaders, surrounded by a circle of ship-wrecking stones.

  Still, Wulf Halvardar had fretted enough to ensure that that part of the wall was higher than the rest, wanting to ensure that no enemy could climb such a sheer mountain and claim his prized gold.

  Not imagining that anyone would ever go straight through it.

  ‘We can fight men!’ Briggit yelled, pulling her circle closer, urging her hooded Followers to stand with her. ‘Let them come! We don’t need swords! We can fight men!’ She thought of how many men she had dispatched to her borders, knowing that Draguta had sent the rest of her army to the east. That appeared to have just been a ruse, though warriors with swords and shields weren’t the defense Helsabor needed now.

  ‘We will defeat them!’ Briggit insisted, her voice rising over the screams and the terror and the rumble of Hestian warriors in the distance.

  Morana wasn’t so sure.

  She was continuing to panic as the clouds of smoke pumped towards them, rain soaking her robe. She felt hot, as though Draguta was standing before her, breathing warm air on her face. She could almost see those red lips curling into a satisfied smile, knowing that it didn’t matter what Briggit did, or what she said. Draguta had them trapped.

  She had been defeated too many times now.

  She would not walk away from this.

  She would claim a decisive victory.

  She would crush the city and The Following.

  Dawn was hurrying towards Angard now, dust from the smashed wall clouding the sky like dirty fog. Eadmund was struggling to see. He blinked to clear his eyes, moving towards the wall, stumbling on the uneven surface, littered with rubble. Shards of stone and rocks and broken pieces of mortar jabbed into his boots. The hole in the wall was wide enough for his men to pass through in numbers, and he could see the opening as they approached.

  Though not through it.

  What was waiting for them on the other side was shrouded in clouds of dust.

  ‘Archers!’ he bellowed, his voice hoarse. ‘Line up behind us! Wait for my call!’ And nodding at Berger who was coughing beside him, his eyes blinking out of a dust-mask, Eadmund gripped his sword and started to climb into the city.

  Jaeger.

  Morana could sense him before she could see him, and suddenly there he was, a hulking shape emerging from the smoke, striding across the square towards their
circle, his dusty warriors fanning out behind him.

  Draguta’s king now.

  She didn’t know what to do.

  The smoke and dust were mingling together, and she couldn’t breathe. Nor could anyone else. The Followers were coughing, bent over, struggling to see.

  It was suddenly impossible to stop coughing.

  The smoke.

  There was something strange about the smoke.

  Morana yanked her hands away from the old dreamers on either side of her, covering her mouth and nose, trying not to breathe. Her eyes were watering as she spun around, not caring about Briggit or her defense of Helsabor anymore, but suddenly very conscious that Draguta had already won.

  And she was not going back to Hest.

  The clouds descended, choking them, and Morana dropped to her knees, oblivious to the cobblestones scraping the skin off her shins as she crawled away with speed, forcing her way out of the circle, the bloody line smeared and broken as she hurried across it, disappearing into a cloud of smoke.

  She was not going back to Hest and Draguta Teros.

  Jael stepped back, wanting to cough, feeling the dust in her throat, knowing that Eadmund was in the midst of it all. She could hear him shouting, ordering his men to stay alert as they approached.

  She watched Draguta whose eyes were round and big and fixed on the map, on what she could see, and Jael could only hear.

  Jael turned away, wanting to take a deep breath of fresh air, wanting to see Eadmund, but suddenly she was back in Andala.

  She blinked. At Furia’s Tree.

  Her shoulders slumped, her head falling forward, the weight of what she had witnessed threatening to drown her. She sank to the ground, onto her knees.

  No one could know.

  No one could know.

  Once Eadmund and his men had made it through the hole in the wall, he could see that there was no one to fight. Those who hadn’t tipped off the ramparts when the dragons had flown over, had been killed by those same dragons as they terrorised the square with their flaming breath. Those who hadn’t been killed by the flames had been crushed by the shattering of the wall.

  And those still standing couldn’t breathe well enough to fight.

  They held up swords and hands, trying to see through thick waves of smoky dust.

  Some fell to the ground, unable to stay awake. Others stumbled around, trying to find an escape.

  The corpse of the black dragon was like a range of mountains stretched across the smoky square. Eadmund couldn’t see beyond it but he could hear the crackle of fire, and see the glow of flames in the distance as he clambered over the rubble. The guard towers backing onto the wall had been crushed. He saw bodies flattened, in pieces, lying at strange angles, limbs buried in layers of dust.

  Charred corpses everywhere.

  Eadmund scanned the chaotic scene before him, and despite the swirling smoke, his head suddenly cleared, and he remembered that Draguta wanted to claim Helsabor for Hest. He held up his own sword. ‘Surrender!’ he called to the men pulling themselves up out of the rubble. ‘Surrender now!’ He bent over, coughing, realising that there was barely an enemy in sight. Not any standing. And not any who looked ready for a fight.

  Shoving his sword back into its scabbard, Eadmund reached out and grabbed hold of a hand, pulling a bleeding soldier out of the debris. ‘Help them!’ he ordered, turning back to his men. ‘Get them out of here!’

  Briggit stood tall, watching Jaeger Dragos and his men advance on her circle, determined to fight till her last breath.

  Draguta would not take her.

  She would not take Sabine or Lillith either.

  She would not take any of her Followers.

  And nor would Jaeger Dragos.

  Holding out her hands, she smiled as he approached, motioning for his men on either side of him to surround the Followers. ‘You cannot enter this circle!’ she shouted. ‘Try it! Try it and see what happens!’ And gripping Sabine’s hand, Briggit started chanting, her eyes on Jaeger, daring him to come closer.

  Jaeger could hear the shrieking woman, but he was struggling to see which one of the hooded creatures she was. The haze of smoke was thicker than anything he’d experienced on Skorro, but as he stepped closer, gripping his sword, the smoke parted to reveal the ranting Queen of Helsabor.

  Briggit Halvardar glared at him, dripping wet, covered in dust, black robe clinging to her, hood half-covering her shining wet hair.

  Jaeger jerked to a halt, smiling.

  He could hear Draguta’s voice urging him on, and sheathing his sword, he lunged into the circle, wrapping a filthy hand around Briggit’s throat.

  Briggit’s eyes popped open in horror and confusion.

  Jaeger’s men quickly rushed the circle, seizing hold of the panicking Followers surrounding her.

  ‘No! No!’ Briggit shook her head, gagging, trying to wrench herself away from Jaeger as he dragged her to him, her boots scraping across the cobblestones.

  Across the line of the circle.

  The impassable circle.

  How?

  Holding Briggit an inch from his smug face, Jaeger kissed her roughly. ‘First, we’ll have some wine, and then, I’ll have you!’

  Draguta’s sigh was satisfied.

  It had been quite a defeat. Complete, she thought to herself. Crushing. Though Briggit had killed her remaining dragons with that symbol of hers and the irritation of that needled her. She would have to think of something else for her looming battle with Jael Furyck and her Brekkans.

  Spinning around with a smile, she eyed a confused Meena, determined not to let any small niggles tarnish her victory. She would focus on all that she had achieved. Helsabor belonged to her, and so did the South.

  And now it was up to Eadmund and Jaeger to finish the job and deliver her prisoners, her gold, and her ships with haste. Draguta’s eyes gleamed as she sought out Brill, who was slouching by the hearth. ‘Wine, I think, don’t you?’

  Briggit hated the smell of Jaeger Dragos; the stinking, strutting arrogance of him. She tried to twist away from his hold, consumed by an unfamiliar flicker of panic, wondering where Sabine and Lillith were. The dust was swirling now, cutting her off from her Followers. She could hear them shouting out in protest and pain, though she couldn’t see them. But she was not prepared to lose a single one of them.

  Not to a brute like Jaeger Dragos.

  Jaeger dragged the queen across the square towards the castle steps, surprised to see how much Angard reminded him of Hest; what he could see of it in the dust cloud, at least. The sun was coming up, and the smoky glow from the fires burning around the square was making everything even harder to see.

  But he could see Briggit.

  ‘Get your hands off me!’ she spat. ‘You will not touch me!’

  ‘Seems that I will,’ Jaeger laughed as he stopped on the steps, pulling her to him. ‘Would you like to try and stop me? Perhaps a curse? A spell?’ And he threw her backwards, watching as she fell onto the steps, her black robe sliding up over her knees.

  Briggit was quickly scrambling to her feet, ignoring the pain, arms out, twisting, chanting. She jammed her hands forward, yelling her spell at him.

  Cursing him.

  Jaeger laughed. ‘I do have an itch.’ He fumbled, grabbing his crotch. ‘Right here. Something... something doesn’t feel right. Perhaps you could help?’ And he seized Briggit’s hand, pushing it between his legs.

  ‘Grrrr!’ Briggit screamed, spitting at him. Something was shielding him from her curse. She spun around, trying to see what was happening, trying to find someone to help her. She couldn’t see anything at all, but she could hear the cries of the dying.

  The coughing.

  And kicking Jaeger in the shin, Briggit slipped her small hand out of his and ran up the steps, almost on her hands and knees, wondering why the circle had not held.

  Wondering what Draguta would do next.

  9

  There was no feeling quite like it
.

  Success. The delicious taste of success.

  ‘Wouldn’t you agree?’ Draguta asked, finishing her wine and turning to Meena.

  Meena stumbled in surprise, banging her hip against the map table, certain that Draguta hadn’t posed a question. ‘I... yes.’ What point was there in saying anything else? She hadn’t drunk the mead, so she hadn’t seen what had happened.

  There was relief in that, but confusion also.

  What had Draguta done?

  Meena had guessed what the shimmering scales were for, remembering the dragon that had attacked Andala, but the ring?

  What had she done with that ring?

  ‘Think of all those ships!’ Draguta exclaimed, holding her hands to the fire. ‘All those majestic ships! Soon they will fill our harbour, and we will have a fleet mighty enough to conquer any kingdom! And Briggit’s gold will help us buy even more!’ She spun around, reaching for the replenished goblet Brill was delivering on a silver tray. ‘Think of it! Silura, Kalmera! Why should we limit our ambition to dreary Osterland? Imagine what treasures await us in the Fire Lands and beyond?’

  Meena felt sick, her head spinning with the smoke, her fears about what Draguta would do next as loud as thunder in her ears. She wanted to leave. To run out of the castle, out of the kingdom. Far away from Hest and Draguta.

  She had to leave!

  ‘We have to leave!’ Morana burst in through the door, barely looking at Dragmall and Else who were still huddled in the corner of the main room, choking on smoke, listening to the panic out in the square, wondering if it was safe to go outside.