Vale of the Gods
Page 22
Else pinched his arm so sharply that Dragmall yelped. ‘What?’ And looking around, he glimpsed a man turning the corner into the corridor they were hurrying down. Dragmall yanked Else in through the nearest open door, holding his breath, his hand over her mouth, feeling her tremble against him.
They waited behind the door, wondering if the man had seen them. It was not the most carefully thought through plan, Dragmall realised with a frown. He had charmed a tasty breakfast out of the kitchen staff, some of whom recognised him from the visits he would make over the years, especially as his father’s health started deteriorating. Though, perhaps all that food had dulled his thinking because he had failed to consider how he would get the shield out of the castle.
It was hardly something he could hide in his satchel.
Footsteps grew louder and then passed by. Eventually, Dragmall released his hand from Else’s mouth, feeling the gallop of his heart ease.
‘Who was that?’ Else was worried that she was about to sneeze. The dust from the rubble and the smoke from the fires, many of which were still burning in the city, had her eyes watering and her nose twitching.
‘Hestians. No Angardians will be roaming the castle freely, I suspect,’ Dragmall whispered, keeping his voice low as he poked his head around the door. ‘Not for a long time. Come on, we need to move quickly now. It’s just down the corridor a way. The chamber up there, on the right.’
Else tiptoed after Dragmall, terrified that they were about to be caught and shipped straight back to Draguta.
Meena opened her eyes, staring at Brill’s worried face.
‘She lives!’ Draguta declared, turning to Amma. ‘Now we can get back to thinking about your hair. Brill is excellent with hairstyles, though I prefer a simpler look for myself. But you? You must draw the eye, my dear. Especially Jaeger’s. We want to impress him, don’t we? Make him proud to have you by his side. We need you to look like a true queen. His queen. It will help him to... focus. To... calm down.’
Amma’s face was frozen, terrified for herself but also worried for Meena. ‘I... yes, but Meena? We must give her some water. She couldn’t breathe. It’s very warm. Perhaps we need to open the balcony door wider? Let in some air?’
Draguta lifted an unimpressed eyebrow. ‘I suspect we must, or how else will I get the rest of my ingredients? Evaine has proven herself useless already, so, yes, find her something to drink, Brill.’ And pointing distractedly at her lanky servant, she turned back to Amma. ‘Come out onto the balcony, and we can enjoy the sunshine.’
Meena was pleased to hear them leave. She took the goblet Brill handed her, smelling the wine.
‘There is no water,’ Brill mumbled apologetically.
Meena sipped the wine, though it was not something she had ever enjoyed. She screwed up her face as the pungent liquid scalded her throat, then handed the goblet back to Brill and sat up, coughing, wondering what had happened. Her eyes drifted towards the tiny box on the table, and, gulping, she looked away, forcing all thoughts of the ring out of her head.
She couldn’t take the ring.
She couldn’t.
Briggit’s grand chamber had a bed wider than any Else had seen in Hest. Big enough to fit seven people, she was sure, and so high that there was a little golden step beside it.
‘Wouldn’t surprise me if she did,’ Dragmall muttered.
Else turned around in surprise. ‘Did what?’
‘Have seven people in her bed,’ Dragmall said, lying down to look underneath it. ‘From what I’ve heard, Briggit has an appetite for that sort of thing.’ He wriggled out from under the bed, covered in cobwebs. ‘And more besides.’
‘Oh.’ Else’s eyes snapped back to the door. ‘We should hurry.’
‘What we should do is find that shield,’ Dragmall sighed, glancing around the chamber which shimmered like a sea under the sun. There was an abundance of gold on display, from the bedhead to the goblets and ornaments on the tables, and the tapestries stretched across the marble walls. There were even gold-threaded curtains. Dragmall spun around, trying to ignore the garish furnishings which were not where his attention needed to be.
‘But where is it?’ Else wondered. ‘Surely it’s not big enough to be hidden in there?’ She ran her eyes over the small wardrobe he was trying to force open.
Dragmall had his knife in the wardrobe’s lock, and he was jiggling it around, eventually flicking it open. But pulling open the doors revealed that the shield wasn’t there. He spun around in frustration, his eyes suddenly on the wall. The bright beams of morning sunshine had illuminated something, and as he walked closer, he could almost see the scrape of a circular outline above a marble shelf.
Chewing on a hairy lip, Dragmall eyed Else. ‘Well, looks as though we still have work to do.’ And he glanced around the chamber, wanting to find something of Briggit’s to take.
Something that might help get him into Briggit’s head.
Jael felt hot, which was unusual for her. She wasn’t sure that it was a warm day, though standing close to the fire wasn’t helping, so she moved around the map table, away from the flames, scanning the hall for a jug of water.
‘It would make sense,’ Karsten was saying from her left. ‘Though what it will mean for us, I don’t know.’
Jael dragged her attention away from her hunt for water, back to the table. ‘It won’t help us to fight there, that’s for sure.’
The Islanders stared at the map with puzzled expressions, not having a clue what Jael and Karsten were talking about. Aleksander stepped in. ‘The Vale of the Gods is a place few ever go. The Tuuran and Oster gods built it together as their very own battle arena. A place where they could wage war against each other and themselves. Mountains all around here,’ he said, dragging a finger around the area of land near the south of Brekka. ‘A hard climb in through the northern part of the vale. And here,’ he murmured, pointing further down, ‘is the Tree of Agrayal. Set up on a low ridge. A place of sacrifice. And beyond it more mountains.’
‘It’s hard to get in or out,’ Karsten added. He had visited the vale with his father and Haegen when he was young. They had never fought there. No one would dare incur the wrath of the gods by doing so.
No one but Draguta Teros it seemed.
‘So our catapults, our sea-fire... it’s all useless?’ Beorn wondered from Jael’s right, glancing at Thorgils who was pulling on his beard with a frown.
‘Well,’ Jael began, ‘not necessarily. The clifftops would be useful.’
‘Not likely we can drag the catapults up there,’ Aleksander said.
‘For archers, I mean,’ Jael explained. ‘Archers on the clifftops, catapults outside the entrance. That would give us the range.’
Frowns dug deeper. More beard pulling.
Jael left the table for that cup of water, giving her a moment to think, and when she returned, Gant was talking.
‘If Draguta’s going to be waiting for you in the vale, there’s little choice. You want her, you have to go and get her. Most times, one side picks the field of battle, and if Jael’s dream is right, this will be it, so all you can do is prepare. And think. We’ve been there.’ He looked at Aleksander and Jael. ‘We know it. We can come up with some ideas.’
Aleksander nodded. ‘We can. Besides, we’ll have an army twice the size of anything Draguta can bring. Sea-fire and dreamers, and Jael and her sword. We’ll have plenty of weapons.’
No one looked convinced. And though Jael’s face conveyed confidence, she couldn’t help her mind from wandering to Eadmund and his shield and how much she was going to need both of them.
Having left the castle behind, Dragmall and Else made their way back to the catacombs, much to Else’s displeasure.
This time, they took a burning lamp.
‘Do you really think she put it back?’ Else wondered, following behind Dragmall, who was walking quickly now that he could see where he was going.
‘I hope so,’ he muttered, not turning around. ‘I
t wasn’t where my father kept it, so I assumed that it was not here. But where else would she have hidden it?’ He had taken Else down to the almost empty cellars, and to the vault where Wulf Halvardar had hidden his chests of gold. Hestian soldiers were guarding that carefully, and Dragmall had had to do some quick talking to get them out of that situation in a hurry.
And now, here they were, trailing through the dark, dank depths of the catacombs again; the smell only intensifying thanks to Morana’s decapitated corpse. They had come across it, and Morana’s head, which lay nearby, being gnawed on by rats, both of them relieved to think that she was dead, though Else couldn’t help feeling sorry for her, lying there all alone as she was without a proper burial or pyre.
‘Focus, Else,’ Dragmall grumbled, sensing that she was falling behind. ‘We must hurry.’
‘Must we?’
‘Yes. If we are to find the shield and get back to Hest in time, we must.’
Now Else did stumble. ‘What? Get back to Hest? What do you mean?’
Dragmall realised that she wouldn’t come if he didn’t turn back for her, so he turned back for her. ‘Eadmund needs the shield. And Eadmund has gone back to Hest. And once we find it, so must we.’
Else’s shoulders sank. ‘Oh.’
Dragmall smiled. ‘Come on, Else. I’ll keep you safe, don’t worry. Just try to keep up with me. I don’t want to lose you in here!’ And grabbing her hand, he pulled her along, into the darkness.
Jaeger couldn’t stop thinking about Hest as the ship reared up in the storm. Over and over again it dipped down, diving towards the dark-green, white-tipped waves; rising up again just at the last minute, reaching for the thunderous sky, before crashing down onto the water, jerking his spine.
Warm, dry, sunlit Hest...
The high-pitched whistle of the wind had seared itself into Jaeger’s eardrums, so that it was the only sound he believed he would ever hear again. The weather was the worst he had ever experienced at sea, and most of the crew had spent the journey emptying their stomachs over the gunwales, not drinking any of the wine they’d been looking forward to sampling.
Jaeger’s only consolation was the thought that Eadmund would be suffering too. Even a day behind them, he was still guaranteed to be blowing around in the shit-storm of waves and rain and that howling, haunting wind most of all.
Jaeger put his numb hands over his frozen ears, leaning his dripping face on his wet knees, trying to picture his warm bed, layered in thick furs, Meena lying next to him.
They searched the catacombs for hours. Until the flaming torch threatened to blow out. Until Else’s stomach started complaining again. Until both of them wondered whether it was day or night.
But there was no shield in the catacombs.
There were, however, an awful lot of rats.
Else kept shrieking as they ran over her boots. She could hear them shuffling about, running from them. Running towards Morana’s corpse.
They were everywhere.
Dragmall didn’t notice.
They sat down on a stone bench, both of them grateful to rest their feet.
‘It’s not here.’ Else was tired and cold.
‘It’s not,’ Dragmall agreed. ‘But it is somewhere.’
‘And being a dreamer, you can’t find it?’
Dragmall frowned. ‘Well, I did before. I saw that it had gone from here. That it was in Briggit’s chamber. I saw a vision of her looking at it from her bed.’
‘And now?’
‘Now, I can’t see it in my mind at all. It’s as though it’s hidden.’
‘Which it obviously is.’
Dragmall shook his head. ‘Not like that. It’s as though it’s invisible. Hidden from dreamers.’ He sat up straighter. ‘Hidden from dreamers...’
‘What? What is it?’ Else wondered as Dragmall stood, stepping away from the bench. ‘Where are you going?’ she called, watching him disappear into the darkness. ‘Dragmall?’
Draguta sat at the high table, fresh from a long soak in the hot baths. She felt slumberous, well-rested, and very much looking forward to her evening. Once Meena returned and got to work, she would try and find her sister. The spell she was planning was something new that she had discovered in the Book of Darkness, which had surprised her. She thought she knew that book better than anyone. Better than Raemus himself. Certainly better than Morana Gallas, whose stench still tainted the pages she had defiled.
Turning to Evaine, she noticed her scowl. ‘You will not tempt Eadmund back to your bed with that face, Evaine. He will not be moved by a sour look and a snarl.’ She lifted her goblet, taking a long drink. ‘No, Eadmund is a man of heart. He feels things deeply. If you want him to develop actual feelings for you, if you want him to love you without magic, you will have to stop being so self-absorbed. You are not helping yourself at all.’
Evaine sat back, blinking.
‘Though, with a mother like Morana Gallas, it is no wonder you cannot control that part of yourself. That mean, snivelly, witchy part of you? That is pure Morana.’ And placing her goblet on the table, Draguta turned to Amma. ‘Unlike lovely Amma here, whose heart is full of goodness. Her face glows with it, can’t you see? That is the sort of face a man wants to look at.’
Evaine didn’t want to look, but, feeling compelled by Draguta’s words, she leaned forward and stared at Amma who cringed with embarrassment.
Draguta laughed, watching as Meena crept into the hall. ‘You took your time!’ she growled, her good humour gone in a flash.
Meena nodded, agreeing.
‘Well, then, do not dither about here. Get up to my chamber. Evaine can go with you. She can help you prepare everything. I need every pair of hands, for I do not wish to be trying this potion with breakfast!’ And glaring at Evaine until she pushed herself away from the table and slowly traipsed across the hall after Meena, Draguta turned back to Amma, picking up her hand. ‘Though not the hands of the Queen of Hest. These hands will not be used for any menial tasks, will they? How delicate they are. How perfectly suited to pleasing your husband.’
Amma didn’t know if it was the smell of the wine, the look in Draguta’s intense eyes or the terrifying images stirred up by her words, but she scrambled up from the table, hands over her mouth, running outside to vomit.
The smell of the catacombs was turning Else’s stomach, and the fear she had that Dragmall would not return was making her panic. She called for him occasionally, but there was no answer, and so she sat, cloaked in the darkness. Alone but for the rats who appeared to be alert and active and no doubt still gnawing away on Morana.
Eventually, Else stood, squinting into the darkness. ‘Dragmall?’ Putting her hands out, she crept forward, one tentative step at a time. ‘Dragmall?’
And then a light. A flickering glow in the distance.
Else gasped, holding her breath, blinking rapidly.
Hoping it was Dragmall.
She squinted some more. The light was faint, not coming forward in any great hurry. She began to edge towards it, wishing she had more than an eating knife to defend herself with, but she drew her knife anyway, holding it out just in case.
‘Were you planning on eating me?’ Dragmall grinned as he approached.
Carrying an enormous shield.
III
Travellers
20
They were going to be late, which Raymon supposed was only fair since Jael and Axl had kept him waiting the last time they’d met. He sighed, memories stirring of Rissna. Of Jael saving his life. Of the moment he’d discovered that his father was, in fact, Ranuf Furyck.
It had not been that long ago.
Since returning to Ollsvik, Raymon had lived in a fog, a thick cloud of grief and paranoia, lost and alone. He needed to move forward, to strengthen his hold on the throne. To quash any further rebellions. To organise and lead his army to meet the Brekkans. To fight for their freedom and their lives.
But he wanted to crawl into his bed and hide.
Raymon missed her desperately. His grief was a searing pain inside him, and then a great empty hole and then, most of all, utter helplessness, knowing that there was nothing he could do to bring her back.
He would never speak to her or see her again.
The finality of it all was too hard to bear.
‘Your mother would want you to be strong.’ Getta spoke without feeling. She watched Raymon gather the reins into his hand. He had kissed her goodbye, though it felt as though he wasn’t even there. He had barely spoken to her since their return to Ollsvik. She didn’t know why. Perhaps it was because of Jael? Had her cousin said something to Raymon about her involvement with Garren? Had Jael known about that? Dreamed about it?
Raymon hoisted himself onto his heavily armoured horse. He felt relieved to be leaving. The fort echoed with reminders of his mother, his childhood, the man he’d believed to be his father. His desire to escape it all was strong, hammering inside his chest, urging him to leave. ‘Take care of yourself,’ he mumbled. ‘And Lothar.’ It might be the last time he saw his wife, he realised, though he couldn’t bring himself to give her more than that.
Getta panicked, suddenly feeling vulnerable. ‘Don’t do anything silly. You are not experienced, Raymon. Let others lead. You must return to the kingdom. Your people need their king. Lothar needs his father.’
There was no affection in her eyes for him, Raymon could see. She was worried for herself, for her position as queen. It was as though he could see Getta clearly for the first time. As though he was viewing her through his mother’s eyes and what he saw was everything Ravenna had warned him about.