by A. E. Rayne
Eadmund sat further away with some of his men. The Hestians. He didn’t like the food or the company, but it was better than sitting near Briggit.
Briggit glared at him. ‘You underestimate the power of a dreamer. The power of The Following. So does Draguta. As she’ll soon find out.’
Eadmund eyed the queen over his goblet, watching her nibble on a slice of smoked cheese. ‘Draguta is more powerful than any dreamer you know of, wouldn’t you say? After watching what she did out there?’ He turned his head towards the entranceway, looking for an escape. ‘I expect she’s more powerful than the gods now.’
Eadmund’s words ruffled Briggit’s confidence. She couldn’t deny that she had been surprised by the explosive power of Draguta’s attack. It was still a mystery how she had pushed through the wall and shattered that impenetrable stone.
With what?
Briggit didn’t know.
But she settled back into her chair with a serene smile masking her fears. It didn’t matter. Draguta was only a dreamer. A dreamer with a book of symbols that didn’t belong to her.
She could be defeated.
17
Draguta had spent most of the day in her chamber, enjoying the solitude and the silence. Industrious sounds from the harbour had drifted up through her balcony window, making her sigh with satisfaction. Those men appeared to be working hard constructing the piers. And they would need to. In only a few days, the harbour would be filled with more ships than Haaron Dragos had ever imagined.
With even more to come.
Draguta ran a blood-tipped finger around the edge of the seeing circle, watching the symbols glow, searching for clues.
Dara was out there somewhere. Hiding.
Her little sister.
Once her favourite sister. Not like Dalca and Diona. The three of them had been similar ages, but Dara was ten years younger. The baby. And how they had all doted on her. Doted on her and dismissed her, not noticing what a talented dreamer she was. Not seeing what she would grow up to become.
Draguta frowned, annoyed that she had been blinded by her sister’s loyalty for all those years as she nurtured her, mothered her, gave her a home, taught her everything she knew. Blinded until the knife was in her neck and she was dead, entombed in that stone coffin for centuries.
The ultimate betrayal.
Reaching out, she pulled the tiny box towards her, flicking open the lid.
The Ring of Taron was a dark treasure. A tool so powerful that she could strike anywhere with it.
Anyone.
Any time.
Running her finger over the black stone, she smiled, turning to the Book of Darkness which sat in front of her, waiting.
Waiting for Briggit, for Jael Furyck, for Dara.
Wherever that bitch was...
It was impossible to hide forever.
But if she came out? Revealed herself? What then?
Dara considered it hourly. She was not sleeping, though sleep was not a requirement for someone like her. It was a habit she had broken long ago. She would live for centuries and beyond if Draguta didn’t destroy everyone first.
It was raining.
She watched it falling in front of the cave, dripping from its stone mouth, washing mud inside. Dara was not cold, but there was a fire spluttering at her feet.
A cave inside a grove inside a forest.
Protected by the gods.
They were keeping her safe. Hidden from Draguta.
But for how long?
And for what purpose?
If she came out, revealed herself, what then...
Would Draguta stop? Turn her attention to the revenge she so desperately sought? Leave everyone else alone?
Yet once it was done...
Dara poked the flames with a long charred stick, her thoughts teasing her. Jael and Eadmund were so far apart. Eadmund did not have his shield. Jael’s sword appeared useless now. Eadmund was not even on the right side of the fight that was coming.
What if they could not defeat Draguta now? After all this time, after all that she had done, what if they could not defeat her now...
But if she came out, and revealed herself?
Dara lay down on the dirt, her head resting on her arm, thinking of her mother, and her sisters before they were claimed by the book. Draguta had once been a girl of such delicate beauty. Admired and desired by many, broken by the deaths of their parents, corrupted by the Book of Darkness which had slowly turned her into...
A dark, unstoppable force.
Her sister, who needed to die. And quickly. But everything was shifting and changing so unexpectedly that Dara wasn’t sure whether it was possible to kill her anymore. And if that were the case, she didn’t know what she was going to do.
Closing her eyes, she let the dripping rain trick her into thinking that she needed to sleep; lulling her towards a place of peace and stillness where she hoped to find a dream.
Draguta turned around, blinking. ‘Come in!’ She had drifted away, in a trance, lost in a thick wood of trees, searching for clues.
It was suddenly so dark. Where was Brill?
Meena shuffled into the chamber, eyes on the flagstones.
‘How long ago did I send for you?’ Draguta grumbled moodily. ‘I sometimes wonder why I keep you alive!’
Meena wondered the same thing. ‘I was with Amma,’ she tried. ‘She is... lonely.’
Draguta’s face broke into a smile. ‘Well, not for much longer. Jaeger will be here soon, and then Briggit too, so we must hurry along with our preparations.’ She flapped a hand towards her bed. ‘I wrote a list. You will wake Evaine before the sun tomorrow, and the two of you will collect those items. Quickly. In order. There is even a chant to repeat for each plant as you harvest it, though that is not something to bother Evaine with. And the knife,’ she said, turning, pointing to the knife which lay next to the piece of vellum. The knife Meena had thrown at Draguta’s head, killing her for a time.
Meena gulped.
‘Yes, that knife,’ Draguta purred. ‘It is a powerful knife still, so you will cut the plants with it. Remove the bats’ wings with it too. Best you slit their throats first. We may as well use some of their blood.’
Meena’s eyes were round with horror.
Draguta was pleased to see it. ‘I am you,’ she warned as Meena crept towards the bed, stuffing the list into her purse; carefully slipping the knife into her empty scabbard. ‘I am in your head. I take every step you take. I hear what you say. I feel your breath. Betray me, Meena Gallas, and I will cut out your tongue with that knife.’ Her ice-blue eyes narrowed into threatening slits as they studied the shaking woman. ‘I have no need for your voice. It is only your hands and legs that offer me any assistance.’
Meena could feel tears of terror stinging her eyes, and she bit down hard on her teeth, wanting to show no fear. It was impossible, though. She had seen the ring box on the table, briefly, as she’d come into the chamber, and she was working hard to keep all thoughts of it far away.
Far away from Draguta.
Her only mistress now.
Eadmund wanted to find his mother in a dream, but his mind was so troubled that he couldn’t even fall asleep. Briggit was lying on her bed on the other side of the chamber, and he felt disturbed by her presence, unable to relax. Her scheming eyes always studied him so intensely, masking more secrets than he wanted to imagine. He feared what she might do if he closed his eyes.
Thinking about secrets led Eadmund to Dragmall and he was reminded of how much the old man had revealed.
Esk’s son. A shield. Jael.
His mother.
Eadmund’s shoulders loosened as he thought of Eskild. She had led him all the way to Morana. To the truth. To the truth about Morac too. And he’d taken revenge. In the end, they’d both had their revenge.
But how empty it felt with no one left to share it with.
His mind was drawn back to thoughts of the shield, and he had a strange sense of deja vu.
As though he had always known about it. As though he had seen it in his dreams. The memory of the shield was there, just out of reach and Eadmund sighed, closing his eyes, trying to slip into a dream.
Hoping to find his mother waiting for him.
The puppies knew that something was wrong. They always did.
And lately, a lot had been wrong.
Ido yelped as Jael rolled over, trying to move his sister and not crush him. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured into the darkness, wishing she’d left a lamp burning. ‘Lie down, there you go.’
It was good to have their company. She felt so alone in their bedchamber, knowing that danger was lurking outside the fort, inside the fort, and most of all at that moment... inside her dreams.
She was not looking forward to falling asleep.
Not tonight.
So she tried to remember Eadmund and Oss. After Tarak’s death they had been inseparable, almost hiding out in their house. In their bed. Even Biddy had barely seen them. Occasionally, she would have to knock on the bedchamber door to make them come out and eat.
Jael’s face broke into a smile in the darkness, and she felt her body relax, her mind staying in that place, remembering their comfortable bed and Eadmund’s warm feet and his deep voice murmuring in her ear, soothing her to sleep.
Meena stared at her grandmother’s bed, which had been Morana’s for a time. She shivered, reminded of her aunt’s screeching cackles; the sneer with which she had always considered her; the sting of her coarse fingers pinching her skin.
Dull moonbeams shone down from the window high above, revealing the true misery of the chamber, and she sighed.
The first few nights after Amma had come to stay, Meena had slept in the bright and warm chamber Berard had found for her, but tonight she’d returned to the place she had lived in since the death of her father.
She thought about him often. He had never been cruel. But he had been sad.
Too sad.
Meena blinked, looking down at the piece of vellum she had pulled out of her purse. It was going to be a long morning, she could see, especially having to endure Evaine’s company. Folding it back into her purse, Meena took off her belt and laid it over a stool, watching the glint of the knife secured in her scabbard.
Thinking about the ring.
Not thinking about the ring!
She was afraid to fall asleep. Afraid that Jael Furyck would come into her dreams again, and try to convince her to help them. Meena squeezed her hands together, twisting her bare fingers which had never worn a ring.
Fingers that would likely never wear one now.
Looking around the chamber, she decided to light a fire. It was not cold, but a fire would make her feel better. Even without Morana or Varna, it was a depressing place to be, so getting up from the stool, Meena sought out the tinder box which Morana had kept under her bed. Bending down, she grabbed the little box with her fingers, touching a book as she did so. Frowning, she rocked back on her heels before leaning forward again and wriggling under the bed, pulling out the old, musty books, one at a time.
One, in particular, caught her eye, and she dusted off its cover, noticing the symbols scratched into the dark-red leather. The first page revealed its contents: Dreamer Ailments and How to Cure Them.
Perhaps something in the book could help get rid of her nightmares?
Else hadn’t spoken since Dragmall had gotten the fire going in the empty house they had decided to camp in for the night.
It had taken time to find wood, to sweep out the old hearth, to find something to light it with. But the flames, once they burst into life, took away some of the stark terror of the past few days. It was comforting to see light again after the pure darkness of the catacombs, and they both started to relax.
‘It’s hard not to think about what happened to Morana,’ Else said, at last, her body sinking back against the very uncomfortable chair. Frowning, she bent down, trying to push one of the legs back in, worried that it was about to collapse.
Dragmall yawned. ‘It is, though it was the right thing. Morana hurt a lot of people, Meena included.’
‘Do you think Meena is dead?’ Else wondered. ‘She must be, mustn’t she? For helping us? Draguta would have killed her.’
Dragmall had seen nothing of Meena. His mind had been focused on trying to get them away from the danger in Hest. And then the danger in Angard. And he had, but now their path was becoming more precarious by the day. ‘I imagine so. Draguta seems to prize loyalty highly, but we mustn’t think about Meena. Not yet. There is still so much for us to do, Else.’
Else turned to him in surprise. ‘Do? Us?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Dragmall smiled. ‘Though we are going to need more than a few flames to help us. We are going to need some sleep tonight, and something to eat when the sun comes up tomorrow. And I know just where we can go for that!’
The noise was a furious swarm of screams and clashing weapons.
Jael wanted to put her hands over her ears, but she needed to know what was happening. She couldn’t see where the noise was coming from, or who was fighting. It wasn’t dark, but clouds were swirling threateningly above her head, sinking lower as she spun and spun, searching for clues.
She was standing in a valley, gravel beneath her boots, high mountains sweeping in on either side of her, shelves carved into their rocky faces like platforms.
Memories were stirring now, and as Jael turned away from the entrance to the valley, looking in the opposite direction, she saw a magnificent old tree bursting out of a grassy ridge, surrounded by...
Followers.
Followers in dark robes and big hoods, forming an enormous circle around the tree. And at the head of that circle, a woman dressed all in white.
‘Jael!’
She turned, hearing a familiar voice. ‘Eadmund?’ But the din of the invisible battle quickly drowned him out.
And then silence.
Nothing but silence as she stood there waiting.
Listening.
And then she heard it.
‘No! Please! No!’
Shivers ran up and down her spine as she listened.
It was her voice. And she sounded in pain.
Eskild’s face was glowing, her pink cheeks round with a smile she couldn’t stop. She looked up at Eirik, beaming. ‘He’s perfect.’
Eirik’s eyes were on his newborn son. ‘He is. Looks just like you.’
Eskild laughed. ‘Well, we’ll know soon enough, but for now, I think he looks like a baby troll.’
‘I think he looks like the next King of Oss.’
‘But what about Ivaar?’
Eirik frowned. Ivaar would not speak to him. He had become sullen and withdrawn since his mother’s death. Understandably. He was having a hard time with Eskild. A harder time to come with his new brother, Eirik thought to himself. He would have to talk to him.
‘Ivaar is your heir. He should be your heir.’
‘He should, you’re right, I just... love you.’ Eirik bent down, kissing Eskild’s hair. ‘If I could choose, I’d choose our son to rule here when I’m gone. Yours and mine. It feels right. As though he’s meant to be the king.’
‘Ivaar just needs some time,’ Eskild murmured, watching her baby squirm, his mouth open, readying a cry. ‘Give him some time, my love. It has not been easy for him. And besides, I’ve a feeling Eadmund will have other things to do one day. He might be far too busy to sit on a throne, listening to arguments about chickens and fences!’
‘Other things?’
Eadmund watched, wistful for them both.
He saw the look in his mother’s eyes as she turned to him. ‘You are meant for more than this, Eadmund. Draguta will never rule your heart. And if you want to save everyone you love, you will have to fight harder than you’ve fought for anything in your life.’
Eadmund froze.
‘You need to find the shield. Listen to me now. It is here, in Angard, waiting for you. I have seen it. And when you fin
d it, you will remember it. I used to draw it for you. We would draw it together, remember? The magic shield? You will know it. Look for it, Eadmund, please. Before you leave. Look for the shield.’
18
Meena sat back on the chair, enjoying the cheering light from the flames she had just brought to life, surprised by how well-rested she felt. She hadn’t had a single nightmare. Not one. Not one terrifying thought or image had entered her mind all night long.
Varna’s book must have helped, she realised, thinking about the tea she had hastily prepared before bed, grateful for the shelf of tiny jars and pots that Varna had kept her dried herbs in.
A tea to stop her dreams.
She doubted that Varna had ever used the recipe herself, though it was a book that had not been written in her grandmother’s hand. Some dreamer had obviously felt the need to turn off their dreams, if only to get some rest. Then, reminded about what had happened with Dragmall, Meena wondered if it had even been her idea to make the tea in the first place. She gulped, trying to convince herself that she knew the difference between her own thoughts and Draguta’s.
But she didn’t.
Her mind jumped quickly from Draguta to the ring, and she shook her head, picking up the book again. It was not yet light enough to see much, but the flames illuminated some of the words as she read, trying to force her attention onto something else.
How to Conceal Your Thoughts from Dreamers.
Meena held her breath, her fingertip lifting off the page, fighting the urge to turn around and check the door. It was unsettling to be in the chamber. She still expected to find her grandmother hunched over on her bed, shouting at her to add another log to the fire.
Pressing her finger back on the vellum, Meena’s eyes quickly darted down the list of ingredients required for the potion before turning the page, casually browsing the next ailment.
Ingrown Toenails.
