Vale of the Gods

by A. E. Rayne

  And Esk’s famous spear clattered to the ground, broken in two.

  He blinked slowly, not understanding what had happened, feeling oddly vulnerable as Draguta’s eyes locked on his.

  ‘I won’t kill you!’ she promised with a growing smile. ‘No! What I will do will be much worse than that, Esk, Daala’s son! Feel free to run! Run and hide like your mother told you to! You will not get very far. Not now!’

  Esk drew his eyes away from the broken spear, shutting out the sound of Draguta’s taunting voice and the chorus of dreamers who kept moving, their chanting reaching a crescendo now. ‘Hide?’ he laughed, stomping forward. ‘No, woman, that is what you and your kind do. Your Followers? Raemus’? They’ve always been nothing but cowards! Hiding beneath their hoods! Hiding in the shadows! And here you are, hiding in that circle! Come out and face me, Follower Queen!’

  Draguta’s eyes popped open, rage flowing up into her throat, hot and urgent, and gritting her teeth, she spun around, heading back into the circle as the Followers enclosed her like a black cloak.

  Esk frowned in surprise, certain she had been about to attack him, but in the very next breath, he realised that she was. He tried to lift an arm, but both were pressed firmly against his thighs. He tried to move a boot, but they were pushing against the gravel, keeping him where he stood. And he turned his head, searching for a way out, stopping suddenly, unable to turn it back.

  And then a smell, a burning smell, and though he couldn’t move, Esk sensed that something was on fire around him. He could almost see the glow of symbols out of the corner of his frozen eyes.

  Draguta cackled with pleasure as the power of the Followers charged through her hands. She pressed a bloody finger to the table, making symbols in a circle, watching as they burst into life, sizzling.

  Burning.

  Esk bellowed in pain, and Draguta threw back her head, joining the Followers in their chant, her body pulsing with ecstasy.

  ‘Edela!’ Eydis panicked, listening to the noise coming from the ridge as Esk roared, trapped in the circle burning around his feet. She gripped Edela’s hand tightly, afraid that she would slip away from her. That she would be left alone in the vale.

  Edela was worried too. Her ears were buzzing, and her body was tingling, but she pushed her boots down hard on the earth, trying to hold on. ‘Stay still now,’ she murmured. ‘Just stay here. Look.’ And she pointed to Eadmund who appeared oblivious to Esk and the Followers and Draguta as he strode towards the centre of the arena, his sword drawn.

  Eydis pointed to the vale entrance. ‘Fyr!’

  ‘You can see her?’ And it was only then that Edela noticed Eydis’ eyes, which were no longer milky, but a clear cornflower-blue, big and blinking with terror.

  They watched the shimmering feathers of the black raven as she swept into the arena, flying towards the rocky shelf where Esk had been standing only moments before. Flapping her wings, Fyr shot up into the dark clouds, disappearing before Draguta could turn her magic on her.

  Edela exhaled, her heart stammering. ‘Jael is close.’

  ‘Can you feel that?’ Thorgils was riding beside Jael now, worried eyes flitting around, seeking out any threat. ‘The ground’s shaking. Look at the horses.’

  Jael gripped Tig tightly with her leather-covered thighs. He shook his head, throwing his black mane over her knees. ‘Ssshhh, boy,’ she murmured, feeling his tension mount. ‘Ssshhh.’

  Aleksander dropped the reins, shoving his helmet onto his head, tightening the strap under his chin as the ground rippled beneath them. ‘What is it?’

  ‘A god,’ Jael said quietly. ‘Esk is in the vale.’

  Thorgils swallowed.

  Jael turned to him. ‘Blow your horn. Blow it loud. Three times!’ And checking that her own helmet was on tight, she slid out of the saddle, eyes up on the opening in the mountains ahead. An opening that wasn’t as wide as she’d remembered. Wide enough for catapults, yes, but then what? It looked like the perfect place for an ambush. Though, she supposed with a tense grin, with Draguta, it was always going to be an ambush.

  Aleksander dismounted, leading Sky towards Thorgils; Axl and Fyn behind them. They would leave the horses now. The vale was a place for shields and swords, fire and arrows. The horses would only get in the way.

  Aleksander watched Jael slide off Tig, standing close to him, her hand on his cheek. He could sense that she needed to be alone. To prepare herself for what would come next.

  So could Jael.

  Lightning shivered across the sky, bright golden shards exploding above her head and Jael suddenly wondered where Fyr had gone.

  ‘You were born to fight, Jael.’

  Her father.

  She could almost feel him standing beside her, and she remembered how it had felt going into battle together; Ranuf on one side, Aleksander and Gant on the other. She had taken it for granted for all those years. And now her father wasn’t there anymore, and nor was Gant. ‘To fight my husband?’ she muttered. ‘I wasn’t born for that fight. This is Draguta’s game, and we’re all her pawns.’

  ‘You?’ Ranuf’s laugh was deep. ‘A pawn? You don’t think you chose this? All of it? Eadmund? You could have run, Jael. You could have killed Lothar, turned the army to your favour when I died, but you didn’t. This was your choice. It’s always been your choice.’

  Jael frowned, wondering if that was her father’s voice at all.

  She twisted Tig’s reins in her left hand, fingering Toothpick with her right, wondering whether she could keep him safe from Draguta.

  ‘Good luck, Jael.’

  She shivered, sensing her father’s presence fade, and turning around, she walked to where Fyn was helping Thorgils organise the horses. ‘Find me a full quiver of arrows.’ Fyn blinked, his face suddenly pale. ‘Throw in some fire arrows too.’ Turning back to Tig’s saddle, she unhooked her bow.

  Thorgils looked concerned. ‘How will you fight with that on your back?’

  ‘I won’t take it now.’ She handed him the bow. ‘You keep it. Give it to me when I’m ready. Take the shield too. If anything happens to Eadmund, Aleksander will use it.’

  Thorgils swallowed, grabbing the bow as Jael slid the shield off her back. ‘Jael... I...’ He rested the bow on the ground. ‘If you have to kill Eadmund...’

  Jael stared at him. ‘I won’t. Don’t worry, I won’t.’ Her lie was spoken slowly, with great care, and she hoped it would convince them both.

  Thorgils nodded, not convinced at all. There was so much more he wanted to say, but she needed to go. ‘Just remember Tarak. You defeated that bastard when no one else could. But you did it. Because it mattered.’ Fyn was back with the quiver, and he turned to his cousin. ‘It mattered to all of us.’

  Jael scuffed her boots in the dust. She needed to make sure that everyone knew what they were doing. That Axl did. She handed the shield to Thorgils, her eyes on both him and Fyn. ‘Bring this to me when I’m ready... and, Fyn, stay safe. Listen to Thorgils. And if not Thorgils, then Aleksander.’ Fyn blinked, turning to Axl who arrived having checked on his men.

  Jael drew her brother away, out of earshot. She could feel his tension threatening to explode into panic, and she tried to focus him. ‘We don’t know what they’re going to do,’ she said, inclining her head towards the entrance. ‘But we know what we’re going to do. And we’re going to stop Jaeger and Draguta and destroy that book and get Amma and Eadmund back.’

  Axl took a quick breath, nodding.

  ‘You’re a Furyck. A king. Born to lead. Ranuf chose you, remember that. He chose you to lead Brekka when he couldn’t. So you must, Axl. I have to focus on Eadmund and Draguta now, but you have to kill the Hestians.’

  ‘I will.’ His voice was a croak, and he coughed, clearing his throat, wishing he had some ale. ‘I will, Jael.’ Leaning forward, he pulled his sister into his arms. ‘For Brekka. For Ranuf.’

  Jael nodded, pulling away. ‘Don’t stop thinking. Looking. Anticipating. Eyes everywhere.
There’ll be no time for panic. Only action.’ She rested her hand on Toothpick’s pommel, calmed by the familiarity of that cool stone.

  There was nothing more to say as she turned back to Thorgils and Fyn, feeling herself disappearing now. She was going to that place where there was no fear.

  No love. No safety. No certainty.

  She was going to a place of death.

  And grabbing hold of Tig’s bridle one last time, she leaned her face against his warm, soft cheek and whispered goodbye.

  53

  Esk was hers.

  Draguta laughed, watching as he stood, trapped, back on the viewing platform. There was no ridiculous spear in his hand now. No fire in his spellbound eyes.

  He was broken, just as Veiga was broken. Broken and bound.

  And this was just the beginning.

  Draguta doubted that any other gods would venture into the arena now, trying to disrupt her plans, though she did not allow that thought to distract her. There would be time after she had ended Jael Furyck and Dara.

  Time to claim every last one of them.

  Her eyes drifted from Esk to Eadmund who waited in the arena, sword in hand. He wore no helmet, and that bothered her. He would have looked far more regal with a shining helmet upon his head, though Draguta doubted he needed it against his wife. She had seen him practice. He was ready.

  Her attention was suddenly drawn to the dark figure striding into the arena.

  The Followers hushed expectantly, all eyes following hers.

  Jael Furyck.

  Dressed in black leather, a fitted mail shirt hugging her body, polished helmet upon her head, dark hair flowing beneath it. ‘How very sleek,’ Draguta purred, turning to Meena. ‘My ring,’ she smiled. ‘I will be needing my ring.’

  Meena froze, hands in fists, chest aching with panic. ‘I...’

  Draguta cocked her head to one side. ‘Yes?’

  Swallowing, Meena turned to the table, picking up the tiny ring box which sat beside the Book of Darkness. Hands shaking, she turned back to Draguta, holding it out.

  Draguta was too busy watching Jael Furyck to even glance at Meena. Too busy watching Eadmund’s reaction as he walked towards his wife, vibrating with power. She slipped the ring on her finger and handed the empty box back to Meena. ‘You will be ready. When it is done, you will be ready for what comes next.’

  Meena nodded, her eyes on the Book of Darkness, Dragmall’s familiar voice suddenly loud in her ears.

  Edela and Eydis had been in the trance for what seemed like hours, though Biddy knew that it hadn’t been long at all. Still, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep her eyes open. As terrified as she felt, the smoke and the steady rhythm of Entorp’s drumming echoing around the hall was starting to put her to sleep.

  Ontine smiled at her. ‘Perhaps water would help?’ she whispered, reaching for the water jug, feeling thirsty herself. And hot. Her eyes met her mother’s, and she blinked. The light in the hall was dull, but Ontine saw a glint of panic in Sybill’s eyes as she inclined her head towards the grey curtain that led to the bedchambers and the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to Biddy and Derwa with the cups. Entorp was still tapping on the drum, eyes closed, as much in the trance as Edela.

  Coughing, Ontine reached back for the jug, pouring herself a cup of the cool water, her eyes on the curtain her mother had just disappeared behind.

  Dara turned to Eloris as they reached the end of the scorched forest. ‘I have to get to Edela!’ she panicked. ‘You must hide! Hurry! Get to the caves!’

  Eloris looked past Dara to the large stone fort in the distance. ‘You cannot pass. There is a dreamer circle inside the wall. It is warded with a powerful symbol, Dara. I cannot pass either. It must be why we couldn’t get through to Edela.’

  ‘But I have to!’ Dara ran away from her, out of the forest, panicked breaths pumping in her chest. ‘I have to! Just go! Leave me!’

  ‘Dara!’ Eloris watched her disappear, knowing that she couldn’t help her now. She could feel the threat of Draguta looming over them, and she had to get to safety quickly. ‘Be careful!’ she cried, spinning around, running back through the blackened trees.

  Jael’s eyes were on Eadmund, who was striding towards her, though she was taking everything else in as she walked. The clouds were sinking over the arena, hiding the clifftops on either side of the vale which made it easier to see. And what she could see was Draguta standing on the grassy ridge at the head of a circle of Followers. She could see the Hestian army arrayed on either flank, deep rows of warriors tightly packed together behind shields, shining metal stretching far back to the woods in the distance, spear tips pointing towards the clouds. Jaeger Dragos was no doubt lurking somewhere near the front, though those men wore so much armour that she couldn’t see their faces.

  Fingering Toothpick’s pommel, Jael lifted her eyes to the stone shelf where Esk stood, trapped and bound, his famous spear snapped in two. She tried not to think about what Draguta might be planning to do with him.

  Turning her attention back to Eadmund, Jael saw a glimpse of the ancient tree spreading its branches over the hoods of the Followers; dark-robed, all of them, except for Draguta who was dressed entirely in white. It was as she had seen in her dream, and there was some relief in that.

  Fyr was close by, Jael knew, though she almost wanted her to stay away, hoping that Draguta wouldn’t imprison her too.

  Axl was leading the Brekkan army into the arena, filling the space behind her, shields slapping over shields as they took their positions in long rows; spears, swords, and axes at the front, archers in the back. Ivaar was bringing the Islanders, and Rork had command of his Alekkans, leaving Beorn outside the vale to command the catapults. Jael could hear boots shuffling across gravel as the army fanned out in silence.

  She didn’t need to look. They had planned this out.

  Jael didn’t need to look at Draguta either now. She could feel her. She could feel the power of the ring pulsing in the distance, and she knew then that Meena Gallas hadn’t taken it.

  She hadn’t taken the ring.

  Jael lifted her head, shutting that thought away, taking a deep breath.

  Hopefully, Draguta would want to watch her fight before she used it.

  She turned all of her attention to Eadmund as he stopped before her, sword in hand.

  He scuffed the dirt, eyes on Jael.

  His wife. His queen.

  He felt nothing.

  Nothing, except the desire to bring Draguta her head.

  ‘Let me in!’ Dara cried up to the ramparts. ‘I must see Edela! Or Eydis! Please! Hurry!’

  ‘I can’t!’ a man called down to her, tugging on his braided blonde beard. ‘No one can come in or out!’

  Dara wanted to scream, though that would hardly encourage his help. ‘I must see Edela Saeveld! If you can’t let me in, please find her! Bring her to me!’ She was panicking, trying to think of what she could do. Of what magic she could use to break the circle before her sister found her. But, she realised with a shudder, Eloris was right, the symbol being used was too powerful.

  She couldn’t see a way through it.

  The guard turned to his friend with a perturbed frown. ‘I’ll go to the hall. See what Gant thinks.’

  ‘Far as I know, they’ve locked down the hall. It’s happening. Now.’

  ‘We can’t let her in on our own, though,’ the first guard grumbled. ‘I’ll be back.’ And feeling increasingly unsettled by the woman’s panic, he hurried down the rampart walk, towards the stairs, where he disappeared, coming quickly into the gatehouse, emerging out onto the square.

  Just before the dreamer circle.

  He lifted a hand to one of the circle guards who approached quickly. ‘Need to get word to Gant. Someone’s outside the gates, wanting to come in. A woman. She needs to speak to Edela. Says it’s urgent.’

  ‘What is happening?’

  Both men turned to see Sybill Ethburg bustling towar
ds them, grey curls bouncing around an alert face. ‘Did you say that someone needed to see Edela? But why have you left them outside? It may be important!’

  The rampart guard felt even more disturbed. ‘I can’t break the circle.’

  ‘I will take her inside,’ Sybill said, big eyes blinking. ‘I’ll break the circle and send Edela out to close it. We must see what this woman wants. Bring her to me. Quickly!’ And she stared at the frowning guard until he spun away, running for the main gates.

  Bruno had driven the wagon into the vale, stopping it just past the entrance, to the right of the long rows of silent warriors and archers who were still moving into position. Ayla hurried out of it, casting a small circle near the mountainside. Astrid and Dragmall followed her, arms loaded with everything they needed to start a fire.

  ‘Jael doesn’t need our help yet,’ Dragmall assured Ayla who had pushed herself up on her tiptoes, trying to see what was happening in the arena, catching a glimpse of a man who did not look like the Eadmund she remembered. ‘But we must be ready for what will come next.’

  Ayla nodded, her eyes on Bruno who stood outside the circle, guarding it, sword in hand. He turned to her and smiled, and she smiled back, her eyes already watering from the smoke.

  ‘Magic is as magic does,’ Dragmall winked. ‘And being exceptionally old, I know more magic than I would wish to. See up on that grassy ridge there. Beneath the Tree of Agrayal.’ And he pointed at the hooded figures circling the tree. ‘Briggit Halvardar is in there somewhere. She is our enemy. We will leave Eadmund to Jael, and you and I will work on Briggit and her Followers. That circle will protect Draguta. It will enhance her power and stop Jael from getting anywhere near her, so we must try to break it.’