Vale of the Gods

by A. E. Rayne

  Ayla could feel the hammer of her heart, but Dragmall’s calm words focused her, and she nodded, closing her eyes, inhaling the smoke, hoping that Jael would stay safe.

  Jael wanted to run. To throw her arms around her husband.

  But this wasn’t Eadmund. This man she might have to kill.

  He wasn’t wearing a helmet, so Jael could clearly see those familiar hazel eyes which looked oddly cold and emotionless. She could see his sharp cheekbones, the line of his jaw beneath his beard. He looked nothing like the man she had married, though Jael tried to convince herself that that Eadmund was still in there somewhere.

  He had to be.

  ‘Eadmund.’ She shuffled her boots in the dust, feeling an unwelcome tremor in her hand as she unsheathed Toothpick. ‘Been training, I see.’

  ‘To beat you? I’d have to, wouldn’t I?’

  That voice. It didn’t sound like her husband at all.

  Eadmund’s eyes roamed her body, sizing her up as though they’d never met.

  Or perhaps as though he was preparing to kill her.

  ‘We don’t have to fight,’ Jael tried, searching his eyes for any sign that he felt something for her. That he recognised her. ‘I’ve brought one or two warriors with me. Some you might know. Join us, we can free you.’

  ‘Free me?’ Eadmund laughed. ‘And what do you think I need freeing from, Jael?’ He was edging closer now, his eyes on her face, noticing the bruises, perhaps a new scar or two. Her new armour.

  She looked tired.

  Jael smiled. ‘Not that tired.’

  Eadmund frowned. ‘I don’t need to be saved by you. I’ve no wish to be yours or Evaine’s.’

  ‘But you want to be Draguta’s?’ Jael firmed up her grip, sensing that he was about to move. She could suddenly feel Edela nearby, and she lunged, Toothpick swinging.

  Eadmund blocked her strike, swapping his sword into his left hand, sweeping it towards her right shoulder, knowing that Draguta was watching, remembering what Meena had said.

  He had to kill her.

  ‘I need you!’ Jael shouted, dipping away from his blade. She jumped back, throwing her weight onto her left leg, kicking her right into the side of his knee.

  Eadmund’s leg buckled, and he stumbled, growling, still on his feet. Jael didn’t let him go. She charged him, sensing her grandmother’s impatience growing.

  She needed to get him down to the ground quickly.

  Eadmund dodged her next strike, sword still in his left hand, coming back, punching her shoulder with his right. Now it was Jael’s turn to stumble, grunting at the pain of his knuckles hitting bone. She kicked out at him, her boot cracking his hip, spinning away before he could touch her. Stopping, turning back around, Jael parried his blade, kicking him in the knee, needing to weaken his legs quickly.

  Draguta, watching from the head of the circle, could feel Eadmund’s anger growing. The sun peeking out from beneath the low clouds was in her eyes, and she lifted a hand to her forehead, sensing Evaine straining to see, creeping up beside her.

  Aleksander, Thorgils, Fyn, and Karsten started edging towards where Jael and Eadmund were fighting, leaving Axl and the army behind. Aleksander rested Esk’s shield on the ground, and they crouched behind it, pausing before continuing.

  Edela and Eydis followed behind them. They didn’t know if the dreamers could see them. If Draguta could. They were not real, merely dream versions of themselves, though this was no dream and Edela found herself trying to see what was happening, terrified that Ontine had been right about Eadmund killing Jael.

  Eadmund was trembling with rage now.

  Jaw clenched, he burst forward, almost spitting at his wife.

  Jael could see that his eyes were as dead as the temple guards in Tuura. Dead like Baccus who she’d killed more times than she could remember. Ducking Eadmund’s blow, she kept her eyes on his, punching him in the throat. Eadmund fell back, just keeping to his feet, stirring up clouds of red dust as she came at him again, sheathing Toothpick.

  Thorgils inhaled sharply. ‘Not sure that’s the right thing to do,’ he muttered nervously to Fyn, barely able to breathe as they crouched down behind the shield again. ‘Eadmund looks ready to kill her. Capable of it too.’

  Fyn was too tense to speak as he gripped his spear. He didn’t take his eyes off Jael who slipped around a gagging Eadmund, elbowing him in the lower back, following up as he turned with an elbow to the cheek. Bellowing, Eadmund lashed out with his sword, watching sparks of gold flash in Jael’s green eyes as she ducked his blade, dropping low, punching him hard in the balls.

  Edela gripped Eydis’ hand as Eadmund fell to the ground, loosening his grip on his sword. Jael kicked the sword away, throwing herself on top of him, slamming her fist into his nose, slicing the side of her hand into his throat again, hoping to keep him gasping for air as she fought to control his arms.

  She needed to secure them quickly.

  Shoving a hand down her trousers, she reached for a rope, but Eadmund, eyes watering, balls throbbing, throat aching, flicked his boot into Jael’s ankle, knocking her sideways. Scrambling to his feet, he threw himself at her, shunting her to the ground, pushing all his weight down onto Jael’s chest, wrapping his hands around her throat.

  ‘I’m not sure this is going to plan,’ Thorgils panicked, turning to Aleksander who was vibrating beside him, ready to run.

  ‘Jael can stop him,’ Aleksander insisted, trying to shake some confidence into himself. ‘Just wait.’ Though his voice wavered and his hand shook. He firmed up his grip, preparing to move.

  ‘Can’t breathe,’ Jael rasped, hands working, trying to push Eadmund off her chest. He looked at her blankly, squeezing her throat with greater force. There was nothing in his eyes but hatred. Hatred and the need to end her.

  Jael could feel her heart almost bursting beneath Eadmund’s weight. And then that voice in her head. ‘You won’t come back.’ Laughter. Dark and malevolent. And she was back in the forest with Ronal Killi lying on top of her, sweaty, fumbling hands trying to get down her trousers, up her tunic. And wriggling, dragging her knife from its scabbard, Jael stabbed it into Eadmund’s left arm, in the gap between the top of his arm guard and his armour plate. He jerked back, screaming, his hand releasing her throat, and Jael swung her left leg into the side of his head with the crack of the knife down her boot.

  ‘Ooooh!’ Karsten grimaced as Eadmund toppled forward, his face slamming into the ground with a thump.

  Eadmund shook his head, dazed, trying to roll over. Everything had gone dark, though, and he couldn’t see. Jael jumped onto his back, rope out now, needing to tie his hands before he moved, but Eadmund pushed himself off the ground, and she was in the air, hands around his throat as he spun, throwing her back to the ground.

  Jael rolled onto her stomach, crawling for his ankles, but Eadmund aimed a boot at her head, missing as she swerved, slamming it into her shoulder. She grunted, gritting her teeth, rolling quickly, jumping back onto her feet. Doubling the rope in her hand, she snapped it at his face. Eadmund swayed back, dropping his shoulder, swinging his fist at Jael’s ribs. He could see that he’d hurt her, and he wanted to do it again. He wanted to hear her bones snap.

  Jael darted to the side, slipping on gravel, Eadmund’s fist smacking into her ribs. ‘Aarrghh!’ Bright shards of light burst in front of her eyes, anger surging, ears ringing as he swung at her again. She ducked, snapping the rope at his heavily protected chest, trying to think of how to get him down to the ground again.

  Eadmund roared, fists clenched, throwing himself forward.

  Ready to kill her.

  Dara barely looked at the woman as she followed her, the knots in her stomach tightening with each step. ‘You will take me to Edela?’

  Sybill nodded, leading Dara through the busy square, where the afternoon was turning to dusk, and the braziers were smoking; happy children chasing after each other, ignoring their parents’ calls to watch where they were going. She turned befor
e the hall, heading around the back. ‘The doors are locked. We must enter through the kitchen.’

  Dara was so panicked that she paid little attention to what she was seeing until she was inside the kitchen garden. ‘Wait.’ She stopped, her eyes on the ominous clouds sinking towards the fort. ‘Who are you?’ She felt odd, as though there was a fog around the woman, concealing her.

  ‘Me?’ Sybill had one hand on the kitchen door handle. She didn’t turn around. ‘I’m no one. Not important at all. Just someone helping.’

  Dara stepped closer. ‘Helping who?’

  And spinning around in a flash, Sybill stabbed her knife into Dara’s chest, then, drawing it out, she slit her throat, watching horror bloom in Dara’s eyes as she collapsed to the ground, blood falling from her throat like a bright-red curtain.

  Bending down to clean her blade on a patch of grass, Sybill stood, sheathing her knife. And, smoothing down her blue dress, she smiled, heading into the kitchen.

  Gant’s voice was loud in her ears.

  ‘Nothing fancy.’

  Jael saw his eyes, grey and hard. And she remembered him battering her over and over again in the training ring, forcing her to keep going. To think. To see a solution for every problem.

  ‘Nothing fancy, Jael.’

  Her lip was cut, bleeding. She was struggling to drag in enough air to breathe. Her ribs were broken. She was choking on dust.

  Then she saw her baby daughter, dead in her arms.

  And she knew that the woman who had killed her was there.

  The woman who had done this to Eadmund was there.

  And she just had to end her.

  But she had to stop Eadmund first.

  ‘Fuck!’ Jael screamed, anger shaking her arms. ‘You are not going to fucking kill me, Eadmund Skalleson! Not today!’ And spinning away from him and his bleeding fists, she ran towards the ridge where Draguta and her Followers stood, watching.

  Aleksander’s eyes popped open. He could hear Thorgils’ sharp intake of breath as he leaned forward, wondering what Jael was doing.

  Eadmund ran after his wife, charging across the arena.

  Jael heard him coming. Boots crunching gravel.

  She could hear how close he was.

  Getting closer. Closer.

  And suddenly she stopped, spinning towards him.

  Eadmund couldn’t stop in time. He skidded helplessly, flying over Jael as she crouched down, throwing out his arms, sword lost again.

  He smashed into the gravel, face first, mouth full of dust.

  Jael grabbed his ankles, wrapping one length of rope around them, tying it into a tight knot before he could kick out at her. She threw herself onto his back, punching him in the neck before dragging out the second length of rope she’d tucked down her trousers.

  Eadmund roared, trying to roll her off him, but Jael dug her knees into his waist, slamming her helmet into the back of his head, knocking him forward. Fingers working quickly, she tied the rope around his wrists, pulling it tight, securing it in a knot.

  ‘Let’s go!’ Aleksander urged, running to her. ‘Hurry!’ And Karsten, Fyn, and Thorgils ran behind him, shields up, heading for Jael and Eadmund; Edela and Eydis, unseen, struggling to keep up with them.

  Draguta clamped her teeth together in displeasure, running a finger over her ring. ‘Hand me the second potion!’ she growled at Meena, who appeared to be trying to leave. She frowned suddenly, her attention drifting away from the arena. ‘Where are you going?’

  Meena’s mouth opened and closed. ‘To get the potion?’

  ‘Yes, you are!’ Draguta shouted, not wanting to be distracted for a moment. ‘And it is not in that direction!’ She quickly turned back to the soldiers who waited on the left flank, watching as Jaeger strode forward, unsheathing his sword.

  54

  ‘Karsten!’ Thorgils could see Jaeger striding towards them, the Hestian army on the march behind their king. ‘Karsten! You have to go!’ Thorgils grabbed his shoulder, staring into his eye. ‘Go! Kill your brother! Don’t let him through! We need time to save Eadmund!’

  Karsten turned back to Jael who wasn’t looking his way as she tried to keep Eadmund on the ground. He could see Aleksander on her other side, one hand on the shield that would become Eadmund’s if his sister could save him. And she could only save him if he stopped Jaeger from getting anywhere near them. Nodding, he rose to his feet, pulling an axe from one of the scabbards crossing his back. ‘Good luck.’ And adjusting his eye patch with his left hand, Karsten stepped away from them.

  Thorgils nodded. ‘Kill that bastard!’ And he turned back to Eadmund who was now on his back – uncomfortable, tightly bound, hissing and spitting at them - and he punched him in the face.

  ‘Harder!’ Jael yelled. ‘I have to make a circle!’ And Thorgils happily obliged, slamming his fist into Eadmund’s jaw, knocking his bellowing friend’s head back to the ground with a bang. ‘Well, not that hard!’ Jael had her knife out, hiding behind Aleksander and Esk’s shield as they crept around Eadmund, Thorgils, and Fyn, casting a circle in the gravel.

  Thorgils looked indignant, jerking as the first wave of arrows whistled through the air. He frowned in surprise. ‘Arrows? I’ll take arrows!’

  ‘Not just any arrows,’ Draguta murmured, watching the arrows slam into the gravel around Jael Furyck and her men in a perfect circle, white goose feathers fluttering in the breeze. ‘Not just any arrows.’ And running her finger across the ring, she closed her eyes.

  Opening them immediately, Draguta strode to the edge of the ridge, squinting. ‘What is that?’

  Meena shuffled forward, squinting with her, trying not to let her eyes wander to the book whose pages were suddenly flapping in the breeze. She didn’t understand what Draguta had seen. Evaine, on her other side, was too worried about Eadmund to care.

  He hadn’t gotten up.

  What were they doing to him? Why hadn’t he gotten up?

  ‘That shield! How did it get there?’ Draguta shrieked, her pale-blue eyes as round as full moons.

  Jaeger shut out Draguta’s furious screeching as he strode across the arena towards his brother, his heavily-armoured body fizzing with anger, the bloody-potion still thick on his tongue. He’d left Berger in charge of his men, warning him to stay alert but not to attack until he was done. He wanted Eadmund and Jael all to himself. And he wanted Draguta to witness it all.

  But first, he would end his pathetic one-eyed brother.

  Karsten was charging towards him now, no helmet, no shield, though Jael had convinced him to wear a mail shirt which slapped against his thighs as he ran. He held his axe in two hands, bringing it up to his shoulder, poised to strike, and Jaeger watched him with a smile, knowing that he was running towards his own death.

  ‘You bastard!’ Karsten spat, almost frothing at the mouth. And then he was there, axe flying, not even taking a breath, enraged by the smirk on his brother’s lips, the mocking look in his crazed amber eyes. ‘You bastard!’

  Jaeger laughed, swaying away from the winking axe blade. ‘You think you can win, Karsten? Against me?’ He lunged, all humour gone now. ‘I’ll rip out your other eye before I kill you! You can die blind!’

  Axl looked from Karsten to Jael, panic thrumming in his chest, urging him to act. He shuffled impatiently in the gravel, eyes jumping up to the clifftops, then back down to the arena as Jaeger threw Karsten to the ground. He could feel his men getting impatient behind him, their eyes on the Hestian army who edged forward on either side of the ridge, swords banging on shields in a rhythmic fury. They wanted to engage, just as much as he wanted to. But Jael needed to get Eadmund off the ground first.

  Karsten rolled, scrambling back to his feet, axe in both hands, teeth bared. He thought of Nicolene. Nicolene in Jaeger’s bed. Dead Nicolene, who wouldn’t have been in Andala at all if it weren’t for Jaeger, and he roared. ‘My wife is dead, you fucking prick!’

  Jaeger didn’t care.

  He was up on his feet, swingi
ng for Karsten’s exposed middle. Karsten’s teeth hammered together as he lurched back, away from the scything blade, his eye on his brother, watching him coming, sensing the power surging through those massive arms which looked to have doubled in size since he’d last seen him.

  Anger swallowed him whole now, and he saw his father’s face.

  Berard’s. Haegen’s. Nicolene’s. His mother’s.

  And thinking about Jael, Karsten skidded across the ground, slamming his boots into Jaeger’s weak ankles, knocking him over with a cracking thump.

  Jaeger barely felt it as he jumped back to his feet. ‘Oh you think you’re Jael Furyck, do you, Brother? Ha! But my ankles don’t bother me now!’

  Karsten could see that as Jaeger threw himself forward, blade slicing through the air, taking Karsten on the shoulder, slipping past his ear. He staggered back, firming up his grip, ducking low, aiming for Jaeger’s legs. But Jaeger had anticipated it, and he jumped away, spinning around, coming back at Karsten, sweeping his sword in a wide arc. Karsten threw his axe up to meet the blade, the clanging impact sending shocks down his arm. And then Jaeger was shunting and shunting, steaming towards him, sword whipping through the air, knocking him over.

  Raymon crept towards the edge of the clifftop, neck straining, trying to see what was happening, his eyes on the banner flapping from Fyn’s spear.

  Blue. Still blue.

  He chewed on a fingernail, his guts griping, creeping back to where his archers waited, bows down, eyes on their king. They had been waiting there for some time, having left the bulk of the army earlier in the afternoon, making their way up the mountains, alert to the danger they would be in once discovered. Though with all those hooded dreamers on the grassy ridge, Raymon knew it was likely that their presence was no secret.