by A. E. Rayne
And what were they going to do about Eadmund?
It was all too confusing, she realised.
She would have to try and find a dream...
Meena hurried after Eadmund, her back dripping with sweat. The clouds had come in, swirling moodily above their heads, making the air more humid as she ran from one end of the ridge to the other, stirring cauldrons over hot fires, grinding and chopping and mixing until her hands were blistered. She felt ready for a dip in Fool’s Cove.
That was the last thing she needed to think about, she realised, reaching out to touch Eadmund. He flinched, spinning around in surprise and Meena was horrified to see how dead his eyes looked.
‘What is it?’ He stared at her bruised face. ‘Is something wrong?’
Meena shook her head, fighting the urge to leave. ‘Draguta asked me to give you this.’ She reluctantly handed him the goblet. ‘She said it will help you.’
Eadmund sniffed the liquid.
It wasn’t wine.
‘Help me?’
Meena shrugged. ‘Draguta wants you to drink it.’
Eadmund shuddered, throwing the dark-red liquid down his throat, quickly gagging, blinking, wishing he had something to take away the horrific taste of whatever it was.
He handed back the goblet.
Meena took it, but she didn’t leave. ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly. ‘For saving me from Jaeger. Amma too. I’m grateful.’
Eadmund frowned, seeing how swollen her right eye still was. ‘I didn’t save you from anything. I wish I had. Jaeger...’ He knew what Draguta thought of Jaeger. He couldn’t say any more.
‘He will kill you!’ Meena blurted out. ‘Draguta told him to. Whatever happens, she wants him to kill you.’ And blinking three times, she spun around, almost tripping over her flapping boots as she scampered away.
Eadmund stared after her, the iron tang of the potion coating his tongue, Meena’s words echoing in his head.
It made no sense. No sense at all.
Draguta needed him. She wanted him to kill Jael.
She needed him.
Didn’t she?
They were edging ever closer to the vale, and Jael felt a growing sense of urgency to know what Draguta’s plans were. Or Daala’s. Anyone’s. She had her own, but as for everyone else...
She wondered what Edela was doing. Whether her grandmother had freed Eadmund yet?
Her mind kept wandering to Toothpick too, her hand resting on his cool moonstone pommel. Toothpick felt like part of her now – the most powerful part – yet she feared that he wasn’t. She felt Tig beneath her, and she knew that she would have to say goodbye to him before they entered the vale.
If they made it that far.
And then Fyr returned.
Fyr was Daala’s animal form, and when Fyr was on her shoulder, Jael felt a sense of certainty that kept her moving forward, believing that for the next moment, they weren’t in danger. Though, Jael realised, shaking her head, that would not be true for much longer.
She glanced back at the wagon, bouncing along too quickly for its own good just behind her. She hoped that Ayla was feeling focused.
They were all going to need her.
Astrid hit her head on the roof of the wagon, yelping.
Ayla didn’t notice. She was too busy trying to calm her mind.
They were walking into the dangerous arms of a woman so powerful that she could bind the gods themselves. And Ayla knew that, as a dreamer, her mind was her weapon. Her sight. Her senses. The warriors walked and rode in their armour, weapons banging against backs and thighs, hanging from belts. Weapons they could draw at the first sign of trouble.
And Ayla needed to be just as prepared.
She had been in and out of a trance for hours, ignoring Astrid, inhaling the herbs the healer regularly threw onto the flames. She came and went, looking for clues, for signs as to what Draguta would do. When she would come.
How?
But she also kept thinking about Andala. Whenever she drifted into a trance, Ayla found herself inside the fort, looking for Eydis, the pounding urgency pulsing through her body.
The need to find Eydis.
‘Edela doesn’t seem like herself today,’ Ontine said, pouring water into two cups. ‘Though, perhaps I don’t know her well enough to say such a thing?’ She pushed a cup towards Eydis’ hand.
‘No, but I do, and she doesn’t,’ Eydis said. ‘I’m not sure any of us are. What is about to happen is...’
Ontine smiled, squeezing her hand. ‘I only hope I can do something to help. I feel useless. You and Edela have to do everything. I’m not much help at all.’
Eydis lifted the cup to her lips. ‘I used to think that. To feel as though I wasn’t a real dreamer because I had no training.’
‘What changed?’ Ontine wondered. ‘You don’t appear to think that anymore.’
They were sitting on stools on opposite sides of a small table in the middle of the circle.
Eydis shrugged. ‘There was no time. When we were in danger, under attack from The Following in Tuura, there was no time for worrying about how I felt anymore. I just stopped thinking.’
‘That sounds like good advice.’ Looking up, Ontine noticed her mother standing by the hall doors, motioning her over. ‘Will you be alright by yourself for a while? My mother wants to see me. I’m sure Edela will be back soon, and Biddy is coming and going from the kitchen. Gisila too.’
Eydis nodded, taking another drink.
‘Good. I won’t be long.’ Ontine hurried up from her stool, heading for the doors.
Biddy watched her go, eyes fixed on both women as they disappeared outside.
The craggy vale arena was carved through long, rugged, red-rock mountains; shelves stepped into each side forming platforms from where the battle could be witnessed.
Or joined.
Draguta smiled, watching Eadmund talking to Berger. She could feel his aggression bubbling like a cauldron of hot water, and it pleased her. There was no hesitation in him now. No doubt. Inhaling sharply, she turned to Briggit. ‘You are troubled?’
Briggit swallowed. ‘I am... not.’
‘No?’ Draguta eyed her closely. ‘You cannot stand still. Cannot sit. And I am certain you have bitten every one of your fingernails by now.’
Briggit turned to Draguta with a smile. ‘I am impatient. Eager to begin. They are getting closer.’
‘They are.’ Draguta looked down into her seeing circle, watching the long worm of warriors creeping towards them. ‘And when they arrive?’ She smiled, sweeping her hands across the arena. ‘They’ll wish that they had never come!’
VI
Sacrifice
51
Their journey had been uncomfortable, terrifying, arduous, and yet, for Dragmall, it was just the beginning.
Else gripped his hands. ‘I don’t want you to go.’
The shield was on his back, warded against any dreamer who would seek it. And Draguta. He hoped the symbols would keep it hidden from her long enough to get it to safety.
‘I must, Else. And you must stay here. Stay safe. I will return when it’s done.’ He wasn’t sure that that was true, though he tried to smile and Else seemed encouraged by that.
Dragmall was leaving her in a cave. He had taken his knife and scraped symbols around its stone mouth, around its dirt entrance.
Symbols he hoped would keep her safe.
She nodded, looking up at him, eyes watering, and suddenly Dragmall felt like a fraud. ‘I... I may not make it back,’ he admitted, feeling the weight of the shield as it tried to pull him backwards. He saw the panic in her eyes now, bright white against the darkness of the cave. ‘It will be dangerous. Very dangerous. I want you to stay safe here. If I do not return in a few days, you must move north. Escape from this place. Start again.’
Tears rolled down Else’s cheeks. ‘But...’
Dragmall pulled her to him. ‘You are strong, Else Edelborg. Always have been. Strong and brave. You wil
l find a way, I know.’
‘Do you see something?’ Else mumbled into his chest, smelling the smoke from their fire in his long beard. ‘Have you seen what will happen?’
Dragmall stepped back. ‘No,’ he admitted, looking down at her, wishing it wasn’t the truth. ‘No, I haven’t. But I will try my best to get this shield to Eadmund. I will do everything I can to help. And then... well, that is in the hands of the gods. Or perhaps, Jael Furyck.’
The morning dragged on, and everyone was so quiet that they all had a chance to contemplate what was about to happen.
Which was a bad thing.
No one needed more time to think of what could go wrong, though Jael was trying very hard to anticipate what she needed to do to keep Draguta guessing.
Was that even possible anymore?
‘Getting closer.’ She turned to Aleksander, who looked as though he wasn’t breathing. His shoulders were raised, his mouth hidden beneath his dark beard. ‘We need to get ready. Draguta won’t necessarily wait for us to arrive.’
Aleksander nodded. ‘I’ll head down the line.’ And with one quick look at Jael, he turned Sky away, dust and dirt flicking everywhere.
Jael barely noticed as she turned back around, trying to listen to Fyr who rode on her shoulder, balancing herself with splayed claws, hoping to get some warning. She had her sword, Ayla, the sea-fire and three catapults. Weapons too. And in Andala, an old lady and two girls with a book who would hopefully be more useful than anything.
Though she would still like to hear from the raven, who was the Mother of the Tuuran Gods, about what she thought was coming...
Edela woke from her nap in a fluster.
Arms flailing, she rushed around the hall ordering everyone about in a rasping voice. Her sense of urgency had heightened so much that she was vibrating all over. Eventually, Gant took her towards a stool inside her circle, while Biddy made her a cup of chamomile tea and Entorp arrived to try and calm her down with a soothing lavender salve.
‘I think that sounds impossible,’ he said, glancing at Biddy who had taken a stool beside him. ‘To perform the ritual while Eadmund is awake? I don’t see how it can be done, Edela.’
‘But it has to be!’ Edela lurched up from her stool, spilling her tea, eyes on Derwa who stood outside the circle, listening. Derwa had gifts, and though she was not a trained dreamer, she knew how to enter the spirit realm. How to traverse those hidden places.
Edela stared imploringly at her.
‘It could be done,’ Derwa decided calmly, fingering her long braid. ‘I don’t believe that Eadmund must be in a dream state, though it would be helpful if he wasn’t walking around, or in the midst of a battle!’ She lifted a snowy eyebrow at Edela who sat down again, wobbling impatiently on her stool.
‘He would have to be held down, restrained in some way,’ Entorp said, his frown deep. ‘It seems unlikely that you’d be able to keep him still for what Eydis needs to do. That will take some time.’
‘Unless Jael injures him,’ Edela wondered out loud. ‘If he can’t move, can’t walk, then we could try.’
‘But then what use would he be?’ Biddy asked, watching the three faces fall. ‘If he’s injured he won’t be able to help Jael, will he?’
‘Not to mention the shield,’ Entorp sighed. ‘There is no shield.’
It was as though a storm was raging overhead, bringing nothing but dark clouds and doom crashing down upon them.
No one could see a way through.
‘I will try,’ Edela insisted, at last, the fire before her bright and comforting. She thought of her cottage and her granddaughter and the night she’d told Jael what she had seen about her and Eadmund.
Nothing had changed in her heart, or in her dreams.
Whenever she saw them, it was as though they were bathed in golden light. Together. Meant to be. And that light would defeat the darkness.
That is what the gods had intended.
So she would simply have to go and talk to Jael.
The clarity of sleeping without nightmares had made Meena feel stronger, and that strength had encouraged her to abandon her sleeping tea and return to her dreams. They had welcomed her back, coming with great frequency whether she was awake or asleep. She kept seeing visions of Berard in Andala; of Jael Furyck on her horse, dressed for battle; of Amma back in Hest.
It was distracting, and she blinked, trying to concentrate on the vast quantities of potion she was finishing for the Followers.
Brill walked towards her, lugging another bowl of blood. ‘This is all. I...’ she panted. ‘This is all. I can’t kill another horse. Please.’ She looked ready to cry.
Meena shuddered, nodding in agreement. There had been enough sacrificing since they’d arrived at the vale. The cool morning air was thick with smoke and tainted with the stink of blood. ‘It will be enough.’ And motioning for Brill to leave the bowl on the ground, she turned back to her basket, thoughts of Else on her mind. And then a flash, and she was staring into a dark cave where Else stood, sobbing as Dragmall disappeared in the distance.
Meena screamed suddenly as Brill touched her arm. ‘What? What is it?’
Brill shivered in surprise, peering down at her. ‘Nothing. I... you weren’t answering me. Are you alright?’
‘Oh. Yes. Yes.’ Meena couldn’t breathe. She glanced around, back into the forest, out towards the edge of the ridge where Draguta was talking to Briggit and Jaeger; around to the right where the mountains bordered the vale, jagged and sloping. Her skin prickled, and she knew for certain that Else and Dragmall were nearby.
But where?
‘Girl!’ And then Meena was spinning and stumbling, and hurrying towards Draguta.
Thorgils and Fyn were riding beside Jael, talking to each other, both trying to take their minds off the fact that they were fast running out of road. They could see the mountains in the distance growing more imposing by the moment.
Axl had left to ride with Aleksander.
Jael was daydreaming. Or, at least, she was trying to, but her mind wouldn’t wander anywhere.
She wanted to find Eadmund. To see if she could get through to him somehow.
‘Jael.’
Jael spun around. Fyr was flying ahead of her. Ayla was in the wagon.
‘Grandmother?’ she whispered, though Fyn and Thorgils were too busy talking to each other to hear her. ‘Grandmother?’
‘I need your help,’ Edela breathed. ‘Eydis and I will try to cut Eadmund’s binding rope again so we can break Draguta’s hold on him. You must get him to the ground, Jael. As soon as you can. Hold him there for us. We will be waiting.’
Jael found herself nodding, though she didn’t know if Edela could see her. ‘I will, I will. We’re nearly there.’
‘Jael, I love you.’ Edela’s voice was faint, disappearing.
Jael shivered. ‘I love you too.’
‘You do?’ Thorgils was staring at her. ‘Well, this is unexpected, Jael, though I’d long suspected your feelings for me ran deeper than you let on.’
Jael rubbed her eyes. ‘Fuck off.’
Fyn laughed, frowning suddenly as Fyr came diving back towards them.
Jael was distracted, expecting the raven to land on her shoulder, but Fyr veered away, aiming for a dense wood to Thorgils’ right.
‘What’s she seen, do you think?’ Thorgils wondered.
Jael’s shoulders tightened, her senses alert. ‘Hopefully, she’ll come back and tell us.’
‘Maybe she’s gone to find the gods?’ Fyn suggested. ‘To help.’
‘A nice thought, Cousin,’ Thorgils sighed. ‘But the gods have no love for each other, nor of playing nicely. Not at all.’
Jael glanced at Thorgils. ‘If the gods are smart, they’ll all stay away. It won’t help us if Draguta imprisons any more of them. She can already make it snow and as for that fog...’ Jael shook her head. ‘We don’t want her near any of the gods.’
Thorgils frowned at the reminder of the cursed fog.
‘No, you’re right there.’ His eyes were on his horse’s brown ears which had not stopped swivelling in hours. She could sense things, he knew; hear things they couldn’t. His attention wandered to the swirling grey clouds sinking in the midday sky, wondering whether they would get enough warning about what was coming.
Hoping a dreamer would see something before it was too late.
Meena had been rushing from one end of the ridge to the other in such a blur that she didn’t even notice Jaeger until his arm slipped around her waist. She jumped, biting her tongue.
‘Stop.’ His voice was low as he pulled her into his tent.
Meena stumbled after him, trying to wriggle away from his arm, trying not to spill the cup of potion in her hands.
‘The Brekkans will be here soon,’ Jaeger said, turning her to him. He had taken off his helmet, wanting to see her. Wanting her to see him.
But Meena’s eyes were on the tent flap which had just dropped closed after them.
She didn’t respond.
Jaeger lifted her chin. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe. And so will Draguta. They won’t get anywhere near you.’
Meena squirmed, staring into his eyes, a mix of emotions bubbling in her chest. Mainly she thought about Jael Furyck and whether she could still find a way to take the ring. She needed to do something to help her and Berard.
‘I will be victorious, Meena. Draguta will be victorious. And then we’ll go home, all of us, back to Hest. Together.’
Meena nodded, feelings of guilt and anger and fear tumbling around her mind as he pushed his hands through her nest of red hair, finding the sides of her face and kissing her roughly.
Pulling back, Jaeger peered at her, trying to see what she was thinking. ‘You want that, don’t you?’
Meena tried to smile. ‘Yes. Yes, I do.’ She looked down at the cup. ‘You should drink this. Draguta wanted you to have it.’ The lie tingled her tongue, and she couldn’t help twisting her lips in discomfort. ‘She said it will help you.’
