by A. E. Rayne
Meena and Brill were enjoying the shade as they worked to erect Draguta’s tent beneath the ponderous branches of the ancient tree. The pleasure of not being on their ponies and the silence of each other’s company was a welcome change from the noise and constant demands of their journey.
It was nice to be away from Draguta too, though they were both aware that if they didn’t finish her tent quickly, they would not be enjoying the peace and quiet for long.
Ballack had left to bring the wagons closer to where they had pitched the tent, just behind the tree, and Meena and Brill were preparing the interior, on their hands and knees, checking for any stones or pebbles that might get under Draguta’s feet.
Evaine was watching from the comfort of a chair, one eye on the tent flap, wondering when she could leave, though that would hardly endear her to Draguta. She leaned forward. ‘You’re taking too long!’ she barked imperiously. ‘Put those furs on the grass and stop fussing. Draguta will want wine and somewhere to sit. Her tables too!’
Meena rocked back on her heels, brushing hair out of her eyes, scowling at her lazy cousin, though if Draguta were to arrive now, she would be furious that there was nowhere to sit. Nowhere she could draw a seeing circle either.
And then Jaeger came into the tent, scanning the vast space, glancing at Evaine before resting his eyes on Meena. ‘Just the woman I wanted!’
Meena tried not to sigh, but she could feel her cheeks redden as Evaine looked on. ‘I have to get the tent ready,’ she mumbled.
‘Isn’t that what Brill’s for? And Evaine?’ Jaeger turned to wink at Evaine before bending down to grab Meena’s hand, yanking her to her feet. ‘I’m sure you’ll be back before Draguta comes looking for you.’
Meena was quickly stumbling after Jaeger as he headed towards the tent flap, looking helplessly back over her shoulder at Brill, trying to avoid a smirking Evaine.
Biddy had taken Ontine and Eydis to Edela’s cottage. They were going to discuss the ritual to break Eadmund’s binding rope. Edela was supposed to be inside too, but she had stopped in the garden, picking herbs for a tea to calm her busy mind.
She heard footsteps approaching. A nervous cough.
‘Hello!’
And turning around, she saw Sybill Ethburg.
Edela was struggling to find any reason to like the woman, which was not very charitable, she knew, but it was hard to know what to say to her. Her big blinking eyes made her look like a hungry rodent, always trying to please with her conversation, revealing little about herself in the process, not making it easy to form any sort of friendship. Edela frowned, standing up, making no move to head down to open the gate. ‘Are you looking for Ontine?’
‘I am!’ Sybill called. ‘She did not eat her breakfast again. I am fussing, of course, but I do worry about her. She has become so thin since Victor died. Once she had such round cheeks, but now she is fading away. I brought her some flatbreads and cheese. They’re still warm!’
Edela’s stomach rumbled at the thought of warm flatbreads. ‘I will take them if you like. We are meeting inside my cottage, and I need Ontine to concentrate.’ Her voice was firm as she headed down to the gate, taking the covered tray. ‘I will try to get her to eat something.’
‘Thank you.’ Sybill looked disappointed not to be invited in. ‘You have a lovely garden, Edela. I’m sure everyone will be turning up, hoping to share in it soon. I imagine it will be hard to keep them away.’
Edela wondered what she meant. There was just something about those eyes that made her doubt whatever came out of Sybill’s mouth. ‘Well, they’re more than welcome to,’ Edela said, turning away. ‘Anything I can do to help!’ And scurrying up the path, she decided to forget about her herbs and head inside, wanting to focus on Eadmund and what Eydis had seen.
Ayla was sitting beside Bruno, who was driving the wagon. It was nice to have a moment, just the two of them. Astrid was good company, but living in such close quarters had them all hankering for some time alone.
‘Did you have any dreams?’ he wondered, enjoying the way his wife’s head was resting on his arm. ‘You were making a lot of noises last night.’
‘Was I?’ That surprised Ayla. She smiled. ‘Could have been that stew!’
Bruno had been determined to make her a stew, having foraged for the mushrooms and nettles himself. ‘Well, it’s been a few years since I cooked anything, though I thought it tasted alright.’
Ayla’s attention strayed to Thorgils and Karsten, who were riding ahead of them with Ivaar. It felt odd that everyone seemed to have forgiven Ivaar. What he’d done to them was obviously not as scarring as what he’d done to her and Bruno. It couldn’t have been.
She squeezed her husband’s arm, hoping to distract him. ‘I couldn’t have done any better.’
‘I doubt that’s true,’ Bruno said, not distracted at all. He could see Ivaar. He could see how expertly Ivaar had made himself palatable now; so much so that even Thorgils could stand his company.
It made him feel isolated. And motivated.
If he could just get through this battle at the vale, keep Ayla safe, have a chance to begin again, then he could...
Sighing, Bruno leaned his head down until it touched Ayla’s, reminding himself that focusing on Ivaar was a waste of time. And Ivaar had already stolen enough of his and Ayla’s time. ‘Though I might have another try tonight. If we come across a river, I’ll get out a spear, see what I can find.’ And he felt his heart swell as she looked up at him with a smile.
Ivaar watched them, quickly turning back around before they could see. It irritated him how happy they looked. How in love. Bruno Adea was a half-dead cripple of an old man. He couldn’t imagine what Ayla saw in him.
Jael turned around and glared at him, motioning with her head to Thorgils and Karsten who looked as morose as each other. Ivaar nodded irritably until she turned back around. He had been trying to keep the conversation afloat, but he’d run out of things to say, and their dark moods were threatening to sink him too.
He thought of Mads. Thumb-sucking, red-faced Mads. His only son.
Wondering if he would ever see him again.
Bram and Ulf had been lumbered with the children.
All nine of them.
Isaura and Bayla had gone somewhere to do something, though likely they just wanted a break. And having endured only a few moments in charge of the gaggle of children, Bram didn’t blame them. He couldn’t hear Ulf over the shouting, whining, arguing noises. ‘We need to put them in a pen!’ he grinned, bending down to take the stones out of Mads’ hands. ‘We don’t throw stones at our sisters!’
Mads was shocked by the sudden growl in Bram’s usually cheerful voice, and he burst into tears. But before Bram could try and comfort him, Kai bit Halla who screamed and hit him.
‘Do you need some help?’ Hanna wondered. She had gone for a walk to find Berard, wanting some company, and though she hadn’t found him, she had found his nieces and nephews. And more.
Ulf and Bram looked at Hanna as though she was the sun after a storm.
‘Yes!’ Bram exclaimed. ‘Help would be good. We really should be...’
‘We have to...’ Ulf added.
‘It’s alright,’ Hanna smiled sadly. ‘You don’t need an excuse. Kai!’ And she grabbed his hand, yanking him away from Halla who he appeared ready to kick. ‘I don’t mind the noise.’
‘Well, you’d be the only one,’ Ulf laughed, though one look at her face and he was frowning. ‘I’m sorry about your father. He was a good man.’
‘Thank you,’ Hanna mumbled, trying not to cry again. Her eyes were sore, and she was desperate for a break from all the tears. Nothing felt real yet. She didn’t want to hide in the hall, but she didn’t want people to talk to her about her father either.
Bram lifted an eyebrow at Ulf, trying to get him to leave but before either of them could escape, the cat Annet was attempting to kiss scratched her face, and she screamed, bursting into tears.
&nbs
p; Both men looked at Hanna, who smiled. ‘Go! I’ll be fine. I promise.’
And nodding quickly, feeling guilty but relieved, they headed to the ramparts to check on their men.
Entorp didn’t have a lot to say as he worked at a small table in his cottage beside Edela, making another batch of salves, which was just as well as Edela’s mind was whirring away, working through the ritual, trying to think of what else they might need.
And then there was the constant worry about Jael, who would soon be arriving at the Vale of the Gods.
‘Edela? You seem distracted,’ Entorp said suddenly, turning to her, realising that she hadn’t spoken in some time.
‘Oh, I’m nothing but distracted at the moment. There is so much to think about. I have never had such a heavy load of dreams, and it takes a lot of sifting through them to find a clear path.’ She smiled, hoping to convey some sense of control. She didn’t want everyone to worry that she was losing her mind. ‘I have a tea which I will try tonight. That might help get things in order.’
‘Sounds like just what you need. There is so much to worry about. Especially for you.’ Entorp picked up the pestle and pushed it against the basil leaves, inhaling their sweet scent.
‘For me, yes, I suppose there is. Being a dreamer has always been a great responsibility.’
‘But you have Ontine and Eydis to share the load now, and you must let them.’
‘Yes, Eydis is always trying to help, and Ontine is becoming more confident, which is good to see.’ Edela frowned suddenly, her thoughts darting from Ontine to her mother. ‘What do you know about Sybill?’
‘Sybill Ethburg?’ Entorp looked up. ‘Nothing at all. I don’t remember her from Tuura.’
‘No?’ Edela was surprised. She’d received the same answer from most of the people she’d asked, and though Branwyn did remember her faintly, she had no information to impart, which in itself was unusual.
‘I left Tuura some time ago, so perhaps I saw her when I was younger, but my memory is not what it was.’
‘Oh.’
‘Though she seems pleasant enough. She comes in regularly to check on me, offering her help. I’ve enjoyed our conversations enormously.’
Edela looked perturbed, realising that there was no point in digging any further. ‘Well, Ontine is proving useful, so I shall stop worrying about her mother and focus on helping her.’
‘Sounds sensible. The more we can do to help Jael, the better,’ Entorp yawned.
Edela’s eyes twinkled at the sound of her granddaughter’s name. ‘I miss her,’ she said suddenly. ‘I fear that I’ll never see her again.’
Entorp looked surprised. ‘You have more faith in her than that, don’t you?’ He was determined that Edela not see how worried he was himself. ‘Jael’s exactly where she’s supposed to be. Where Dara Teros saw her being, isn’t she?’
Edela nodded.
‘Then remind yourself of who she is. The woman who has fought since she was a girl. Who was taught how to survive. To win. Try and remember her, Edela, because if there is one thing you need to believe in now, it’s your granddaughter.’
Jael’s attention kept wandering as the landscape became more challenging. They had left behind the meadows and fields as they headed deep into the south of Brekka. The terrain was becoming jagged, rising in places now, stone ridges bordering them on their left, Hallow Wood still on the right.
She was looking forward to seeing Rexon. He would meet them in Verra, just before the vale. They had already been joined by warriors from Tornas and Folstad. More were coming from Rosby and Skorn. If they made it to the vale, they would be an army some four thousand strong.
But it wouldn’t be enough.
Not if Meena Gallas didn’t take that ring.
And not if she couldn’t stop Eadmund, though Jael could feel that he was further away from them than ever. She scratched her head. After the chill of the snow, they were all steaming in their armour, and she had taken off her helmet for the first time all morning, trying to shake her damp hair away from the back of her neck.
‘What are you thinking about?’ Aleksander asked with a smile.
She turned to him, surprised to see him beside her. ‘Thought you were up there. With Axl.’
‘Ha! Are you riding asleep? I’ve been here for some time.’
Jael blinked, wondering if she had drifted off. ‘There’s a lot to think about.’
‘There is. For you.’
‘Not just for me. We’ve all got a part to play, haven’t we? In Draguta’s show.’
‘We do. But Draguta’s not bothered about any of us, is she? She just wants you to come.’
‘Well, she’ll regret that I’m sure.’
Jael winked at him, but Aleksander knew her well enough to see the doubt in her eyes. He had been watching that doubt grow over their journey, and it worried him. They needed her to be the best she could be. At her fiercest. Full of anger and burning fire. That was the Jael who could defeat Draguta.
If she could get through her husband first.
And that’s when he realised what was wrong. ‘You don’t think you can defeat Eadmund, do you?’
Jael froze. ‘Defeat him?’ She shrugged. ‘I imagine I can. But kill him?’ Her voice was a whisper. ‘I don’t know if I can do that. Could you kill me?’ She peered into his eyes, no humour in her own. ‘If you had no choice, could you kill me?’
Aleksander didn’t know. He stared into her deep green eyes, feeling his stomach flip. ‘I would die to save you, but would I kill you?’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t ever want to find out.’
Jael dropped her shoulders, reaching out to pat Tig. ‘I could kill you, but Eadmund?’ And looking around, she grinned at him, not wanting to dwell on the darkness that was coming to claim them. It would come regardless.
Let them enjoy whatever time they had left.
Aleksander shoved her arm, trying not to smile. ‘Not sure why I ever loved you, Jael Furyck.’
‘Yes, you are. Still do, from what I can see.’
‘Oh, really?’ He tried to remove any emotion from his eyes.
‘Being a dreamer is more useful than I ever realised. Can’t believe I spent all those years fighting it. Now I can read minds!’
Aleksander frowned, reluctant to keep playing, but with Jael, it was always hard to resist. ‘And what does my mind say, then?’
Jael studied him, swaying with Tig who was keeping a slow, plodding pace behind Axl and Raymon. She thought about creeping around the edges of the truth, but it was Aleksander. She owed him more than that. ‘That you’re confused. Afraid. Sad. Lonely.’
‘That sums it up perfectly,’ he laughed, though he didn’t look happy.
‘You’re thinking about Hanna a lot. I feel that.’
He grew awkward.
‘But you’re finding it hard to let go of me.’
Even more awkward.
‘If I were you, I’m not sure I could let go. Even if I knew I had to,’ Jael admitted. ‘I’m not sure I can now.’
Aleksander’s eyes were full of surprise. ‘You can’t?’
‘I’m used to you being there. Here. Next to me. When I was on Oss, I missed you.’ He looked confused, and Jael realised that she was tired, making a mess of things.
‘But you love your husband.’ Aleksander knew her. He wasn’t that confused.
‘I do, though I may kill him, so don’t forget about me just yet,’ Jael laughed.
It was strange, how things were between them now, though being together had always felt right. It was what they knew. It was comfortable and easy.
It made sense.
‘You need Eadmund,’ Aleksander said after they’d ridden in silence for a time. ‘They all say that. But I want you to know that I’ll be there too. My name may not be in that prophecy, but I’ll be there too.’
‘I hope so. You might have to yell at me. Remind me of what I’m supposed to be doing. There’s no Gant to scream orders this time.’
&nbs
p; ‘I will, don’t worry. You’ll be fine. You’ll do what you have to do. What you were born to do. Don’t worry.’
And looking into those familiar dark eyes, Jael felt herself relax for the first time all day.
Despite having gone over the ritual many times now, Edela still felt unhappy about what Eydis was going to try.
Not unhappy. Unconfident. Nervous. Anxious.
She had the overwhelming feeling that it wasn’t going to go well.
Ontine had not been at the first ritual when she’d cut Eadmund’s binding rope, but she looked just as worried. Her dark-blue eyes were jumping back and forth between Edela and Eydis.
‘I don’t care if I die! I don’t care if it kills me!’ Eydis insisted. ‘I would do it, Edela. For Eadmund, I would do it!’
Biddy, standing behind all three of them as they sat on stools around the fire in the hall, looked horrified. ‘And why would you say such a thing? Eydis! Eadmund would never want that. And your father? Jael? They would never want that for you!’
Eydis sat taller on her stool, wishing she could stare into Biddy’s eyes. Anybody’s eyes. She wanted them all to know how determined she was. For them to see her as she saw herself. She would not back down or walk away. They had to free Eadmund before it was too late. It didn’t matter if it was dangerous.
It didn’t!
Edela was quiet. Eydis was fourteen-years-old. Not a girl. Not a woman. Something awkward in between. But that something was a dreamer, filled with purpose and Edela would not deny her. ‘We will go ahead tomorrow, then. We will try it. There is a lot to prepare, though, so you must help me, Biddy.’
‘Tomorrow?’ Eydis sat forward, anxious, hoping they were not running out of time.
‘Tomorrow,’ Edela insisted firmly. ‘And in the meantime, I will decide how safe it’s going to be for you. I will decide, Eydis. I will think on it, and, hopefully, dream on it. But we will be ready nonetheless.’
Edela spoke with the certainty of a boulder dropping from the sky and Eydis could only nod her head.
