by A. E. Rayne
Draguta laughed. ‘He was cleverer than I realised! Though that is not saying much. Those gods have been manipulating us since the beginning of time, and now, I have a chance of ending them. Every last one of them.’
‘And will you?’ Briggit was curious, her eyes alive again. ‘Will you kill them all?’
Draguta had not decided. ‘I may. They deserve to be punished. But perhaps, like my new dreamers, I can use them to my advantage. They can help me claim Osterland. My family’s land. Tuura’s land.’
Briggit was intrigued but confused. ‘You destroyed Tuura.’
‘You have misheard that tale, Briggit dear. Jael Furyck and the Followers were to blame for that, though I do not mourn the place. Those black-robed idiots did not care for Tuura. They cared about their quest for Raemus. It was always the same since I was a child. Since before then. Those in power always sought Raemus.’ She almost spat with disgust. ‘Blind fools! They did not see who he truly was beneath all his lies. They gave him their souls, so desperate to serve him, but he only wanted to serve himself!’
Briggit shivered with anger, though she looked at Draguta with a need to please her, and to be pleasing in return, a dull-eyed smile fixed upon her shining face.
Edela escaped the panic in the hall with Gant who was on his way to the stables to check on Gus.
‘Is there any way to get rid of the snow?’ he wondered, tired eyes scanning the path ahead, men and women walking past them, shell-shocked, faces drawn, sleepless and worried. ‘It will take some time to dig themselves out.’
‘No way that I can see,’ Edela sighed, struggling to piece together her thoughts, though she had barely slept all night and it was making her feel muddled.
‘Well, if Draguta can control the weather now, then anything’s possible.’ Gant didn’t want to let his mind wander too far, but just the thought of all that snow made him feel sick.
Edela nodded. ‘I’m afraid it is. Our only hope now is that Draguta wants to keep playing her games. That she wants Jael to come to her. Though as for us...’ Fear had a firm grip on her and she froze, not knowing what to do. ‘I... I don’t feel as though I’ve even been having the right dreams. It’s been hard to sleep with all that’s going on. Hard to find a way to the answers.’
Gant was concerned. Edela was almost slurring her words. He stared at her as she mumbled away beside him, worried that it was simply too much for her: the pressure to keep them safe; working on those circles. She looked more tired than he felt. ‘Perhaps that’s the answer, then?’ he suggested. ‘Sleep. If you’re going to be kept up at night with Draguta’s games, why not go back to your cottage? Try to get some sleep today?’
Edela could feel the heavy clarity of Gant’s logic as she slipped on the soggy straw, and she nodded.
‘Needs to be mucked out,’ Gant muttered, snatching her arm. ‘Though I suppose we’ve all been a little too busy panicking today.’ He grinned at her as they came to Gus’ stall.
Gus, who was standing, staring at them.
Gant’s body sunk in relief. ‘Hello, boy,’ he smiled, holding out a carrot. ‘Nice to have you back.’
Despite the misery of the cold and the setback of being snowbound, Jael almost smiled as she dug in the snow next to Beorn. It reminded her of Oss, and Eadmund, and then she was frowning again.
‘I was about to ask why you looked so happy,’ Beorn grumbled, shaking snow from his bright-red hands. ‘But you don’t look so happy now.’
‘Thinking about Oss,’ Jael admitted, blowing on her hands, wishing for some gloves. ‘Good and bad memories.’
‘No doubt.’ Beorn’s eyes were evasive. ‘Sorry to hear about your baby. That was a surprise.’
Jael stiffened, bending over to dig in the snow again. ‘It’s done now. Over. I just need to make Draguta pay. We all do. So we keep going.’
Nodding, Beorn ducked his head, feeling just as awkward as Jael.
Astrid and Ayla had hot water. They’d been melting snow, boiling it over the two fires they had built up in their circle. It was helping to warm everyone up. Astrid handed Jael a cup, but despite constantly thinking about being warm, Jael shook her head. ‘Give it to one of the men instead,’ she said, eyes on the trough she was digging, eager to see some earth beneath all the white powder.
Ayla nodded, walking away, her dress buried in the snow, Astrid struggling behind her, a bed fur tucked around her shoulders.
Jael straightened up, sensing a shadow on the ground and when she saw that it was Fyr, she sighed, wondering what the raven could do to help them.
Ayla was watching the raven too, and after handing out her cups of hot water, she motioned Jael away from the catapult.
‘What is it?’ Jael asked, breath smoking around her numb face.
‘I think I have an idea,’ Ayla said hesitantly. ‘It may not work, but perhaps it’s worth trying? Something my mother used to tell me about one of the gods. Something that might work in our favour... if you can help me?’
Jael nodded, eager to do anything to help free them from their frozen prison.
Ontine’s mother, Sybill, sipped her small ale, unable to stop shaking. Her protruding eyes were on Alaric, who blinked back at her, on Branwyn who was walking around with a small bowl of nuts, conscious of rationing, and on Gisila, who had not wanted to return to her bedchamber.
‘I fear that we cannot survive much longer,’ Sybill said nervously, nibbling on a walnut. ‘With what that woman is doing? How long will it be before she grows tired of the circle and just sends more dragons?’
Gisila’s eyes were up, away from her cup of dandelion tea. ‘I think we have to believe in the circle. My mother spent a long time making it, and look at how it protected us last night.’ She lifted her voice, attempting to quell the nervous muttering around her. She couldn’t see Edela, but she doubted that her mother would appreciate Sybill spreading her fears around the camp like headlice. ‘We have food to eat because of it. Think of what would have happened without that protection.’
Sybill looked ashen-faced. ‘I’m sorry, yes. I... I am grateful for the circle. Of course. Very grateful. But what will come next? That is my fear. That which we cannot see.’
Gisila frowned. For all her fear-mongering, Sybill was not wrong. Edela had revealed no dreams about what was coming. Nor had Eydis or Ontine that she knew of. She had thought the dreamers would have had more insights, more visions about what Draguta might do next, though she didn’t want to share her worries with Sybill. ‘We are lucky to have dreamers,’ Gisila declared, staring at the throne, deciding that it was time she was sitting on it. Everyone needed to see strength, whether she felt any or not.
She was a Furyck – by marriage, she knew – but she was the only one left in the fort now, and she needed to do something to hold them all together.
It would only get worse.
‘We are lucky to have dreamers like your daughter, Sybill. We must do what we can to support them while they work hard to keep us safe.’ And Gisila eyed her with a look that reminded Branwyn of Jael.
‘Here,’ Branwyn said, holding out a hand, sensing that her sister was about to stand. ‘I’ll help you.’
Alaric was on his feet too.
‘Thank you. I think it’s time I started doing some work. I can’t lie around all day when we’re elbow-deep in trouble now can I?’ Gisila scanned the hall. ‘Biddy, can you bring me some wine? I’m sure we could spare a small cup. Just a little something to set me right.’
Biddy spun around, smiling at the sight of Gisila Furyck back on the throne, before scurrying away, searching for a wine jug.
‘Your dreamers did well last night,’ Draguta purred from her chair which Ballack had positioned just outside her tent. It was not a comfortable chair, but at least she wasn’t having to perch on rocks, or squat in the dirt like everyone else.
Briggit looked up from where she was organising the tiny jars of herbs Brill had unpacked. ‘They did. Though they could not penetrate the circles.’
Eadmund listened with a blank face, drinking from his goblet.
Wine again. Always wine.
He looked around, seeing if there was anything else on offer.
There wasn’t.
He was hungry, inhaling the smell of food cooking down past the wagons, and his attention wandered, his eyes meeting Evaine’s as she strode towards him in an elegant blue dress, looking as though she was heading to a feast rather than another long day in the saddle.
‘I hardly think their symbols will keep us out for long,’ Draguta smiled confidently. ‘But we don’t want to crush them yet, do we? They would simply wave a white banner. Beg for mercy. And how dull would that be?’
Jaeger crunched into an apple, tired and hot. His mood was ebbing and flowing, his eyes darting around, unable to focus. The book was closer than it had been in days. On Draguta’s lap. He was trying not to look at it, or her, but he could feel it pulling him closer. Eventually, he stepped forward. ‘But why delay Jael Furyck?’ he wondered, trying to stop himself from resting his hand on that black leather cover. ‘If you’re not going to kill her, why keep her away? Don’t we want her there, waiting for us?’
Draguta stared at Eadmund, but there was no reaction in his eyes now, she was pleased to see. ‘Waiting for us? No.’ She shook her head. ‘We must be ready for her. A little delay is just what we need. A little delay and I’m sure she’ll be on her way again. Never fear, Jaeger. You will get your chance with that woman if Eadmund fails. If,’ she mused, narrowing her eyes, ‘if you can fight your way through the army of people who wish to kill you!’
Karsten helped Bruno work on building another fire. Ayla had asked for the biggest fire they could make, positioned in the middle of her circle which she had now closed, keeping everyone else out. Curious onlookers stopped and stared, but they were quickly put back to work with a bellow from Rork.
Ayla needed bright, dancing flames that would smoke her herbs high into the clear morning sky. The trance she would enter had to be deep. She glanced at Jael, who had her head down, fussing with her swordbelt. ‘I’m not sure it will work,’ Ayla admitted. ‘I’m not someone a god would choose to reveal themselves to. And perhaps he’ll be in hiding now with the rest...’
Fyr was on Jael’s shoulder, and Jael sensed that she was listening.
‘The gods have spoken to you before, though, haven’t they? Helped you?’
Ayla nodded slowly. ‘Yes, they have. But not the Oster gods. I am Tuuran. I’m not one of theirs.’ She had a lot of knowledge of the gods, passed down from her mother; enough knowledge to know that she was not the right person to enter the trance. ‘I think he’s more likely to listen to you, Jael,’ she said. ‘You must do it. You must go into the trance and find Darroc. If he wants to help us, he’ll be there, waiting for you.’
Jael leaned forward, enjoying the warmth of the flames. ‘Who?’
‘Darroc,’ Ayla smiled. ‘A lesser-known god, though don’t tell him that. He’s a reclusive creature. The God of the Seasons. If what I’ve heard about him is true, I can help you find him.’
‘Do you think he’ll want to help us? He doesn’t appear to be watching what’s happening here if that’s the case.’
‘There’s only one way to find out. Now, come here, and I will show you what to do,’ Ayla said quickly, realising that they needed to hurry if they were going to have a chance of moving the army before nightfall.
Ontine looked worried. Edela hadn’t spoken since she’d returned from her cottage. Biddy had rushed in and out of the circle, checking on her, but Edela had her head buried in the Book of Aurea, and she didn’t even look up.
Eydis was worried too. ‘Edela, is there anything we can do?’
‘Do?’
‘To help you,’ Ontine added, grateful for an end to the silence. Everyone was rushing in and out of the hall in constant motion, and she wanted to do something to help, though she didn’t want to be gone when Edela needed her.
Edela shook her head. ‘Not unless you’ve had some useful dreams I don’t know about. Mine have not been very helpful at all.’
Eydis sat up straighter. ‘I’ve seen Eadmund.’
‘You have?’ Edela leaned forward, hearing the worry in Eydis’ voice. ‘And?’
‘He is worse,’ Eydis said sadly. ‘So much worse. There is no light in his eyes now. He’s not there at all.’
‘Draguta has strengthened her hold, then,’ Edela declared, sitting back. ‘I’m not surprised. Eadmund would have been fighting it ever since we freed him from Evaine.’ Edela was getting a headache. She squinted, though the light in the hall was dull. ‘And you, Ontine? Have you seen anything?’
Ontine nodded. ‘I saw the Followers. They were divided into two groups. One of them had a tall woman in charge. She wore a white dress. I think it was Draguta. She seemed very powerful. The other group was commanded by a dreamer with golden eyes. Dark hair.’
Eydis gasped.
‘What is it?’ Edela asked.
‘That sounds like Briggit Halvardar,’ Eydis breathed. ‘Was she small?’
Ontine nodded.
Eydis waited.
‘She was,’ Ontine added, realising that Eydis couldn’t see her nod. ‘And powerful. I sensed that. She had great power.’
Edela wondered if anyone would mind if she screamed. Then she noticed her daughter sitting upon the throne, a frown on her pale face as she ordered everyone about, and she felt a lift. ‘Well, then we are going to be quite busy, I imagine. If Jael can get her army out of that snow, they will arrive at the Vale of the Gods within days. That does not give us long.’
‘Long for what?’ Eydis wondered, her hands around the warm cup of marshmallow tea Biddy had just put into them.
‘Careful,’ Biddy whispered. ‘It’s hot.’
‘It doesn’t give us long to save Eadmund, so we must work quickly now, for if we can’t save him, I don’t think Jael stands a chance of stopping Draguta!’
43
They sat in front of the fire.
Ayla insisted that Jael should sit.
Aleksander was busy shooing everyone back to work, urging them away from the circle where Jael needed to concentrate.
But Jael couldn’t concentrate at all. ‘How will I know what to say?’
Ayla smiled, wanting to instil her with confidence. ‘You’ll know once you find him, don’t worry.’
‘But how? How will I find him?’ It seemed implausible. Impossible. But Ayla was looking at Jael with such determination that she almost started to believe that she could do it, just with the sheer strength of her will.
‘You’ll hear me. I will be with you. I’ll guide you.’ The smoking herbs were in Ayla’s throat as she watched Jael yawning. That was a good sign. ‘Deep breaths, Jael. Listen to the drum. Hold my hand now, and we will see where the smoke takes us. Don’t worry, I’ll be there.’
Jael closed her eyes, yawning again, Ayla’s voice drifting away from her into the darkness. She thought of her grandmother, as she always did when she closed her eyes now. Hoping she was safe in Andala. Wishing she was back in the fort, protecting her.
‘Breathe deeply.’
Ayla’s calm voice wound itself around Jael’s thoughts, untangling them as she tumbled into the darkness, flames occasionally flickering around her now. The sound of dripping. The pop of a fire.
And then that voice.
‘You won’t come back!’ A booming warning, chilling her blood. ‘You won’t come back, Jael Furyck. I won’t let you!’
Eydis missed Amma. She missed Jael. She missed Fyn. But most of all, she missed her brother, and she was determined not to let him slip away from her. She thought of their father and how much he had wanted Eadmund to sit on the throne of Oss after he was gone. And though she couldn’t save Eirik anymore, and though everyone was scattered around Osterland, on opposite sides, facing danger and death, Eydis was certain that she could do something to help.
So, leaving the hall, she shut her
self in Jael’s bedchamber, determined to find a dream. They had been taking turns napping, knowing that they needed information. They needed to find the right path to take.
The one which led out of the darkness.
Eydis could feel Jael as she lay on the bed, curling onto her side. She could smell her too. It made her smile, feeling closer to her sister-in-law for a moment. And thinking about Jael led her back to Oss and the sound of Eadmund’s voice as he sat next to his wife, laughing with her at a table in the square, happier than he’d ever been.
Eydis remembered that sound, and closing her eyes tightly, gripping Eadmund’s wedding band, she let herself drift away.
‘Sun’s heading for its peak,’ Thorgils panted, frozen hands on his thighs, wishing he could feel the sun on his feet which were buried in the snow as he dug out one of the catapults.
Beorn sighed, turning to Rork who grunted, wishing he had a cup of ale. But the ale was frozen, no use to any of them now.
‘We have to get moving. We don’t need some magical help. Just feet and hooves. We need to get moving,’ Beorn grumbled.
Ivaar nodded, unable to stop his head from shaking. ‘It would w-w-warm us up.’
‘It would,’ Thorgils agreed, tired eyes surveying his red-nosed Islanders who were all used to the cold weather; almost at home. ‘But what if Draguta tries it again? Jael has to see what help she can get. Surely you’d like a bit of help?’
‘Magical help?’ Beorn’s scowl wouldn’t budge. ‘Magical help will just tie us up in more knots, won’t it? What we need is fire. Set the whole place on fire. Throw a few jars in the air!’ he grinned.
