Vale of the Gods

by A. E. Rayne

  The sunburned Followers looked like a huddle of beggars with their torn robes; blood drying in red stripes down their arms. Defeated. Tortured. And soon to be helpless.

  Meena hurried Amma towards the castle, avoiding the terrified eyes that bulged out of blistered, battered faces, eager to do whatever she could before it was too late.

  Before she became as helpless as them.

  Entorp took some time off from tending to the wounded; from helping to lift the bodies of the dead animals onto carts to be transported out into the valley; from bringing in wood that had been chopped in the forest and carried back into the fort.

  Some time to tattoo Ontine.

  ‘Dreamers need to protect themselves,’ Edela smiled as Ontine squirmed, lips clamped together in pain, hoping her tattoos would offer some protection. Entorp had been oddly unconfident, noting that the moon was in a particularly weak phase, though Edela had insisted that the moon was not their most pressing concern and that he should just get on with the tattooing.

  ‘Not much longer,’ Entorp promised, feeling Ontine shrink away from his needle. ‘I’m nearly done.’

  Eydis sat nearby, crushing rosemary into a bowl with a heavy pestle. The scent was overpowering, and both the aroma and the grinding sound reminded her of her mother. Which reminded her of her father, her brother, and Jael, and she felt lonely.

  Edela peered over her shoulder. ‘You’re doing a good job there, Eydis. I’ll get Biddy to keep an eye on you. I need to head back outside. Back to my circle.’

  Biddy was busy nodding, but her attention was elsewhere, watching Bayla Dragos struggling with one of her grandsons who had just thrown a flatbread at her and was now attempting to grab another weapon. ‘I will, of course. You go.’ And leaving Entorp with Ontine and Eydis, and Edela to head for the doors, she made her way to Bayla who looked ready to cry or scream, or perhaps both at the same time.

  ‘Here,’ Biddy said, trying to get Bayla’s attention, her hand out. ‘Why don’t I take the boys? Isaura’s children are always looking for new friends. I think they’re out the back. Outside the kitchen, in the garden, with Isaura and Branwyn. I’ll take them.’

  Bayla blinked at Biddy, not even able to form an answer, but she managed to nod her head, happy to have a break from the noise and the bad behaviour. She couldn’t even remember how to be a mother, how to make children do what she wanted. If she ever had. Her shoulders slumped, her body and mind aching with weariness. Thoughts of Hest were lost in the past now. She felt defeated.

  Her husband gone. Haegen and Irenna dead. Nicolene too.

  Berard crippled.

  And Jaeger.

  Jaeger...

  Finding a bench, Bayla sat down as the hum of the hall continued to flow around her, oblivious to everyone, tears flooding her eyes.

  Meena was going to take some time with her binding potion, so Draguta ordered Jaeger and Eadmund back to the map table to finalise their plans for the vale. She felt a sudden urgency to be prepared, sensing that her enemies were getting closer. ‘Jael Furyck will come here,’ Draguta mused, her finger on the line that marked the entrance to the Vale of the Gods. ‘I have seen it.’

  ‘If she gets that far,’ Jaeger grunted, certain that Draguta wasn’t going to make it easy for her.

  Draguta didn’t look up; her eyes were all over the map table, trying to see what was happening, but she couldn’t. Her seeing circle had stopped working. She would need to begin again, but she frowned, bothered that she was unable to sense where Jael Furyck was without it. ‘I want her to come,’ she insisted. ‘We want her to come, don’t we, Eadmund?’

  ‘Well, no, I don’t,’ Eadmund admitted, earning himself a sharp-eyed stare from Draguta and a look of surprise from Jaeger. ‘I don’t want to kill her.’ It was no secret. Why pretend otherwise?

  ‘But for me?’ Draguta cooed, running a fingernail over his beard, bringing his face towards hers. ‘You would kill her for me, wouldn’t you, Eadmund?’

  Eadmund tried to fight the words that wanted to come out of his mouth. He could almost see his mother watching him, and he pressed his feet down into his boots, determined to fight. But he couldn’t. ‘Yes. For you, I will.’

  ‘Wonderful!’ Draguta turned back to the table. ‘Then we will make sure you are waiting for her. That we all will be. They will have delays, I’m sure.’ She laughed. ‘More than sure. But we will need to leave soon.’ And closing her eyes, Draguta tried to find that certainty again, but she couldn’t. Opening them, she glared at Jaeger who was looking on eagerly. ‘Within days!’ And hurrying away from the table with a scowl, she headed for the entranceway, deciding to find out how long Meena was going to be. ‘Jaeger, why don’t you accompany me? I have a feeling it’s time for you to see the book again.’

  Jaeger spun around, a hungry gleam in his eyes, following after a quickly disappearing Draguta, leaving Eadmund by the map table.

  Eadmund ran a finger over the map, conscious of Jaeger and Draguta talking in the distance as they climbed the stairs.

  Jael was out there somewhere.

  He saw Andala. Saala. Hallow Wood. He traced his finger down towards the Vale of the Gods, wishing that Jael would come into his dreams.

  He wanted to warn her away.

  She couldn’t come. He swallowed.

  She couldn’t come.

  ‘Useful day,’ Karsten mumbled, slopping mead over his moustache. He drained the cup, then tried to squeeze the liquid from his long blonde beard. ‘The Iskavallans know a thing or two about shield walls.’

  Jael wasn’t listening. They were leaving in the morning, and she was trying to think of anything else they needed to organise before she headed off to her tent.

  Karsten nudged her. ‘You don’t agree?’

  ‘I do. It was.’

  He laughed. ‘Got things on your mind?’ It struck him then that he was sitting beside the woman who had taken his eye. The woman he’d wanted to kill ever since. And yet, he had a smile on his face.

  Jael didn’t. ‘Not sure my mind is big enough for how many things I’ve got on it.’

  ‘Guess that’s being a queen. Thinking about everything. Everyone.’

  ‘It is. Being a leader. Leading all of them.’ She pointed to the Brekkans, the Islanders, the Alekkans, the Iskavallans, all mixed up together with Beryth’s Vallsborgians, enjoying the endless flow of mead in the heaving hall and the promise of the entertainment to come. ‘It’s a lot to think about.’

  Karsten held his cup up to Beryth’s rosy-cheeked daughter who was carrying the mead bucket again, eager for a refill. ‘Or not. You’re a warrior, Jael. More experienced than most. Better than most. Well, better than some.’ He winked at her. ‘Why not think less, and just trust that you’ll know what to do when the time comes? Besides, you’re a dreamer. And you’ve got that raven. You’ll get some warning. You’ll be ready.’ And taking a quick sip of mead, he raised his cup to Thorgils who was standing on the other side of the hall, wedged in between Rork and Torstan. ‘Perhaps what you need is a good fight?’

  Jael lifted an eyebrow. ‘Against you, you mean?’

  ‘Me? No, but Thorgils and I were talking. Rork too. We’ve an opportunity tonight to make ourselves a little coin.’

  ‘You want me to fight? For you? Ha! Not likely. I’ll give you Briggit Halvardar’s gold, or you can take your own, but I’m not going to fight for you lot. Nope. Not a chance.’ She could see Thorgils approaching, his eyes full of intent, bushy red eyebrows almost meeting in the middle of his face. ‘Nothing you can say is going to convince me!’ she called, looking for Aleksander and a quick escape.

  Drips of sweat fell from the tip of Meena’s nose as she leaned back and considered the bowls on the table. She was panting with effort, her arm aching from grinding all the caraway seeds into a fine powder. There were so many Followers to bind and such vast quantities needed for the ritual that Meena was worried she was either going to run out of ingredients or time.

  Likely both.


  She glanced back at the door, but Draguta had still not arrived.

  ‘Why don’t you open it?’ Evaine wondered, coming in from the balcony where she had been sitting, enjoying the hint of a breeze wafting up from the noisy harbour. ‘If you’re so desperate to know if Draguta is coming, why not open the door?’

  Her cousin was a problem Meena didn’t have time for.

  Ignoring Evaine, she turned back to the table, trying not to let her eyes linger on the ring box which sat inside one of Draguta’s seeing circles. It was all she could think about. All that had been on her mind since she’d opened the chamber door.

  It was as though Evaine was reading her thoughts as she flounced over to the table and flicked open the lid on the box.

  Meena gasped, her eyes rounding. ‘What are you doing?’ she hissed.

  Evaine ignored her, running a finger over the smooth black stone. ‘How plain. Not the sort of ring I would ever choose.’

  Meena was frozen to the spot, listening as the door creaked open.

  Draguta strode inside in one, two, three quick movements, Brill shuffling behind her. ‘And not the sort of ring that would ever choose you, Evaine Gallas!’ she snarled, her eyes boring holes into Evaine’s as she quickly dropped the lid and stepped back, away from the table. ‘How mistaken I was, leaving my precious possessions out in the open for anyone to touch!’ And she scooped the ring box into her hand, holding it close to her chest.

  Evaine was quickly slouching backwards, her eyes on Draguta’s left hand which was flapping against her leg. ‘I... I was curious. I... didn’t realise.’

  Draguta exhaled loudly, her desire to injure Evaine not as strong as her need to bind the Followers. ‘Well, I do hope you teach your son how dangerous curiosity can be, Evaine Gallas. I would hate to have anything happen to him or his mother.’ And popping open the lid, her body started to relax. The ring was still there.

  Still perfect.

  Evaine swallowed, the threat in Draguta’s voice like a block of ice slipping down her back. She nodded, dropping her head.

  ‘Good!’ And seeing that she had suitably terrified Evaine, Draguta spun around to Meena who had been looking on with an open mouth. ‘One day, I will look inside that mouth to find a bird has made a nest!’

  Meena quickly pressed her lips together, watching as Draguta turned her attention to the bowls arrayed across the table.

  ‘Well, at least you have made progress here. That is good news... for you.’ She glared at Evaine again. ‘You will help carry these bowls down to the square and then you may go and tend to your neglected son. Meena will finish here then help me bind the Followers. And I will go and find a new home for my ring. Somewhere far away from your curious fingers!’

  Evaine was surprised to be dismissed so abruptly, and though she did not wish to stand out on the square with those smelly dreamers, she needed Draguta to find her useful. More useful than her dolt of a cousin.

  Glaring at Meena, she stepped forward to pick up one of the bowls, avoiding Draguta’s eyes as she headed for the door.

  Jael scanned the hall. All eyes were on her. She glowered at Karsten and Thorgils; at Aleksander and Axl.

  They were all cheering for her to fight.

  And Jael wanted to tell them to go to bed. To put down their cups. To get some sleep. But for many, this would be one of their last nights. Some would never see their homes or families again. And despite knowing that, they had still come to fight. For their homes and families.

  And for her.

  ‘Alright,’ she grumbled, unbuckling her swordbelt. ‘Alright, I’ll do it.’

  And the cheer nearly took the roof off Beryth’s hall.

  Aleksander put an arm around her shoulder, but Jael quickly shook him off. ‘You think I need you to tell me how to fight?’

  ‘Well, she’s not the most polite contender we’ve ever had,’ Thorgils grinned, his eyes on Beryth who was busy organising which Vallsborgian would fight the Queen of Oss. ‘Though all that fire might help get us a victory.’

  Aleksander couldn’t see their logic. ‘No one’s going to bet against Jael, are they?’

  He had a point, Karsten realised, though he’d already decided to. For all that he was no longer looking to rip out Jael’s eyes, it wouldn’t hurt her to be put on her arse.

  Jael frowned. ‘You’ve just cursed me, big mouth.’

  Aleksander laughed, his eyes widening as the contender was revealed.

  The hall hushed as the tall young woman strode forward, dressed in a tunic and trousers; white-blonde hair tied back in two beaded braids, sleeves rolled up past her elbows. Bare feet. A cut lip.

  And then everyone was yelling and cheering, rushing Karsten and Thorgils, waving their coins.

  Jael turned to Aleksander. ‘Can you tie back my hair?’ she muttered, wiping her nose.

  Aleksander had had enough cups of mead that his fingers felt like sausages as he quickly tried to pull Jael’s dark hair into some sort of braid while Jael eyed her opponent. She was young. Taller than her. Broad shoulders that she pushed back as she walked into the space that had been cleared for the entertainment.

  Jael recognised the look in the girl’s pale-blue eyes. It mirrored her own.

  ‘Marissa,’ she said shortly. ‘My name is Marissa, my lady.’

  And frowning, Jael walked away from Aleksander, the sound of her boots scuffing the floorboards drowned out by Thorgils’ whooping.

  She was not prepared to be anyone’s entertainment.

  33

  Ivaar pushed his way into the front row, squeezing in between Thorgils and Karsten, both of whom looked at him with happy grins.

  They’d not been expecting this.

  ‘She’s tall!’ Ivaar yelled.

  The cheering was so raucous that neither man heard him, their eyes quickly back on the action as Marissa and Jael circled one another.

  Jael wondered if she should have taken off her boots. She didn’t want to hurt the girl with the knife stuck down her sock. And then Marissa was on the floor, grabbing for Jael’s ankles, writhing around like a worm, and Jael was hopping and dancing back, catching a wink from Aleksander who looked as though he was enjoying himself.

  Marissa jumped back onto her feet, sensing that Jael was faster than she’d anticipated. She quickly launched herself at Jael’s middle instead, arms flailing.

  Jael was halfway through thinking how amateurish the girl was when she heard Marissa’s thoughts, loud like a thundering waterfall. ‘I’ll gut you, bitch! I will gut you!’ And ducking Marissa’s long arms, Jael grabbed her around the thighs, knocking her to the ground. ‘You want to gut me, do you?’ she growled in Marissa’s face, working to control her hands. ‘Do you?’

  ‘On the ground!’ Thorgils clapped Ivaar on the back. ‘Jael’s on the ground!’

  Marissa was slippery, and she wriggled out of Jael’s hold, grabbing her wrist, twisting it until Jael was grimacing. Taking control, Marissa rose onto her knees, cracking her elbows against Jael’s as she used the length of her long arms to dominate the queen.

  Jael was on her knees now too, sliding out her right leg, smacking Marissa’s waist. Marissa was taller, her legs longer and she couldn’t react as quickly. Jael had spent years fighting men taller than her. Very rarely could they untangle themselves with speed.

  But Jael could.

  And collapsing backwards, Marissa’s hands wrapped around her arms, she brought them both crashing back onto the floorboards again, roaring as she flipped the girl over like a fish.

  Fyn and Axl knocked their cups together, cheering for Jael.

  Karsten frowned.

  Marissa slid out of Jael’s hold again, rolling away, grabbing the bottom of her tunic. Twisting it around her hand, she yanked Jael towards her, slamming her knee into the side of Jael’s leg. Jael stumbled onto the ground, Marissa flopping onto her back, pushing her down to the floorboards.

  Jael growled, cross with herself, though Marissa was no Tarak, a
nd she was quickly rocking from side to side, pushing her over, onto her back, straddling Marissa now, securing those writhing arms again, holding them tight.

  Marissa kneed her in the back, and Jael grunted, tipping forward, loosening her grip, giving Marissa enough time to free her right hand, aiming a punch at Jael’s jaw. But Jael dropped to the left, grabbing Marissa’s hand, bending it backwards, still straddling her, knees digging into Marissa’s sides.

  Marissa yelped in pain, throwing her head forward.

  ‘Not the headbutt!’ Thorgils laughed, but Jael had rolled away to avoid the blow, both women on their feet now. ‘Watch out!’ he yelled as they came charging towards them, scattering the crowd of mead drinking men and women back to their tables and benches.

  Jael ended up banging into Thorgils, who righted her, whispering hoarsely in her ear. ‘Disappointing, Jael. Thought you’d have knocked her senseless by now.’

  ‘I’ll knock you senseless if you want,’ Jael panted before lunging forward again, listening to the merry din, conscious for one moment of how happy they all were.

  Amma had left the hall early.

  Draguta was still out on the square with Meena, binding the Followers, and Jaeger had taken the opportunity to drink too much wine. It had started to worry her, as had the way he was leering at her, touching her all the time. Eadmund had been distracted, not paying much attention, lost in his own thoughts, and Amma wasn’t confident that he’d step in to help her anyway, so she decided to extract herself before it came to that.