Vale of the Gods

by A. E. Rayne

  Dragmall could hear Draguta’s voice crackling through the air as she tried to break through Jael’s circle. ‘She will attack now,’ he warned Ayla, gripping her hand as they sat before their belching fire, his voice just a hum. ‘We must break that circle!’ He was growing frustrated. Nothing they had tried so far had worked. No symbol or chant had found a way through.

  Ayla nodded, her eyes on the twisting flames, feeling herself separate; as though her body and her mind were drifting apart. She could feel Briggit Halvardar’s power growing. She could hear her whipping the dreamers into a chanting frenzy in support of Draguta, the sound of their combined voices reverberating around the vale, Draguta’s screams of displeasure rising above them.

  ‘Jaeger! Finish him!’ Draguta shouted, watching as Jaeger punched Karsten in the eye, knocking him to the ground again, throwing himself on top of him. His rock-like fists crashed into Karsten’s face, blood and skin flying through the air. ‘Hurry, Jaeger! Finish him!’

  Meena eyed Evaine as she stepped back, away from Draguta, but Evaine was far too busy trying to see what was happening with Eadmund to care. And Draguta was far too busy screeching at Jaeger to notice.

  Quietly sliding her knife from its scabbard, Meena tried to steady her nerves as she cut her hand, aware of all the Followers around her. Many of them had their eyes closed and those who didn’t appeared to be lost in a daze. Dropping the knife, Meena dipped a finger into the blood beading across her palm, making a shaky symbol on her arm, chanting the words from Morana’s spell under her breath.

  She remembered the nights in Jaeger’s bed, crushed by him, abused by him, hurt and humiliated by him. And she pressed her finger against her skin, tears in her eyes, her body shuddering.

  Karsten could barely see out of the one eye he had left, but the mammoth shape of his brother loomed over him like a bloody mountain. He couldn’t lift his arm. Couldn’t move at all. He thought of Berard, who he would never see again. His children. And Hanna. He tensed, waiting for the final blow, wishing he had a weapon, something to hold onto.

  Meena blinked, her eyes on Jaeger, watching as nothing happened.

  She pressed her hand against the symbol again, repeating the chant but nothing happened. And her eyes snapped to where Evaine was smiling at her as she edged closer to Draguta.

  Meena panicked, her body convulsing, stumbling backwards, trying to see an escape through the circle.

  ‘Hold Eadmund!’ Jael shouted at Fyn, feeling Karsten’s life hanging in the balance. And pulling the bow over her head, she drew an arrow from her quiver, eyes on Jaeger who was leaning over his brother, hammering his bloody fist into Karsten’s face.

  And Jael thought of Berard as she released the arrow, knowing that with all the armour protecting Jaeger, she had the smallest target to aim for. ‘Jaeger!’

  Jaeger turned his face towards her, his mouth open in surprise as the arrow shot straight through it, lodging in the back of his head. The shock was greater than any pain, and he tried to lift an arm, wondering where his sword was before his legs gave way and he collapsed beside Karsten, unable to move, his father’s laughter ringing in his ears.

  Karsten could hear him gurgling wetly beside him. He could smell the stink of his brother as death came, and he closed his eye, knowing that soon death would come for him too.

  Seeing no obvious escape, Meena tried to wipe her bleeding hand on the back of her dress, hiding her arms, shuffling forward to where Draguta was spinning around.

  ‘Jaeger is dead!’ Draguta screeched, ignoring Evaine who was trying to get her attention, her eyes on Briggit who stood on the opposite side of the circle. Despite being lost in the smoke, Briggit was working hard not to enjoy the moment. ‘Dead!’ Draguta’s anger rolled like waves as she spun back around, striding forward, her voice rising as she ordered the army to advance; the Hestian army, no longer under the control of a Dragos at all.

  She hoped those men knew what they were doing.

  Rexon watched from up on the eastern clifftop, eyes on the arena, trying not to draw the Followers’ attention. They seemed focused on Draguta, though, who was focused on Jael and Eadmund and the Hestian army which was now starting to advance. His eyes moved to the tiny circle where Jael was working to save Eadmund, watching the blue banner flying from Fyn’s spear.

  Waiting.

  Eadmund could hear Draguta’s fury as he writhed on the ground, head pounding, legs and arms bound, Thorgils leaning over him, all bushy red hair and darting eyes.

  Eydis panicked, realising that she had to act before Eadmund escaped.

  ‘Eydis.’ Edela’s voice was faint. ‘You must shut out all the noise. All of it. Eadmund is your brother. Your love for him is deep. Your connection to him is strong.’ She paused as Thorgils rose to his feet, alert to the Hestian army’s advance. ‘You know what to do, Eydis,’ Edela panted. ‘You know what to do.’ She almost screamed out in pain, the strain of holding the trance suddenly overwhelming her.

  ‘Edela? Edela?’ But there was no answer. So, taking a deep breath, Eydis leaned over her raging brother and placed her hand against the plate of armour protecting his stomach, feeling how smooth it was. How tough. It worried her, but pushing gently as he squirmed beneath her, she eased her hand down, through the metal, inside her brother.

  Into his soul.

  ‘Is anything happening?’ Aleksander cried, glancing back, one eye on Draguta in the distance; on Karsten who hadn’t moved since Jaeger had fallen. ‘Jael? Is Edela doing anything?’

  ‘I don’t know!’ Jael shrugged, her eyes on the Hestian army edging closer under Berger’s steady command. She could hear boots shuffling behind her as Axl led their army forward; shields protecting chests, swords and axes poised to strike. ‘Fyn!’ she shouted over the wailing chants of the Followers. ‘Black flag!’

  Fyn turned away from her, lifting his spear, a black banner flying now, raising it above his head for everyone to see.

  Everyone inside the vale.

  Everyone above it.

  And suddenly, the air was filled with the high-pitched whistle of arrows, bowstrings snapping as the Iskavallans standing atop one clifftop fired. Rexon’s Saalans on the other quickly joining in.

  Draguta’s eyes were up, followed by her hands. She pushed out her palms, sweeping them quickly around as the arrows shot towards her chanting dreamers, stopping just before the circle, dropping harmlessly onto the grass.

  Eydis, hand inside Eadmund’s soul, was trying to shut out the terrifying noises; panicking as she heard men shouting about sea-fire and catapults; hoping she would hear Edela again or even Dara Teros.

  She could feel the rope in Eadmund’s soul, and she gripped it, carefully at first, feeling its texture, frozen and hard. Her body started shaking, her ears ringing, black patches in front of her eyes. Eadmund twisted, throwing her to the side, but Eydis held onto the rope, pulling and tugging it until she had a firm grip with her left hand.

  ‘Hold him down!’ Jael shouted to Thorgils, sensing that Eydis was close. ‘Keep him still!’

  And then Edela was back, reaching for Eadmund, her finger covered in blood. Eydis watched as Edela bent over him, trying to draw the symbol on his constantly moving forehead. She could hear Edela chanting as she turned to her. And holding her breath, Eydis lifted her knife with her right hand, cutting through the rope.

  Draguta’s attention was on the archers lining the clifftops. This was not their fight, and they would pay dearly for their interference. She shivered, feeling a sudden loss jolt her body, her attention shifting to Jael Furyck’s stubborn circle.

  Eadmund.

  And moving her eyes to the centre of the arena, she watched Eadmund rise.

  ‘You’ll be needing this,’ Aleksander said, handing the shield to Eadmund.

  Eadmund was too confused to speak.

  His stomach was stinging as though he’d been stabbed. His head was throbbing, his face aching, but suddenly he was wide awake. Arrows whistled above his head, sc
reams reverberating around the stone bowl as Axl led his bellowing Brekkans forward; Ivaar on his right flank with the Islanders; Rork on his left commanding the Alekkans.

  Eadmund took the shield without even looking at it, his eyes on Jael.

  Jael who he’d just tried to kill.

  He could see the angry red marks around her throat. Her bloody lips. The pain in her eyes.

  He wanted to reach out and touch her.

  But there was no time.

  ‘We’re going for Draguta,’ Jael said, her hand on his arm, unable to experience any joy or relief that he was there again. ‘I’m going for her. You’re going to keep her away from me with that.’ And she pointed to the shield.

  Eadmund nodded, firming up his grip, surprised by how light it felt. How familiar.

  ‘Here,’ Thorgils smiled, handing him the sword Eadmund had lost earlier. ‘You may need this too.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Eadmund mumbled, feelings of guilt and gratitude mingling uncomfortably.

  More confusion too.

  ‘Fyn!’ Jael yelled. ‘Red flag! Red flag!’

  Sea-fire.

  But just as she yelled it, Draguta stuck out a hand, pointing to the Brekkan army. Then another hand. And she lifted them both into the air before slamming them down towards the grass.

  Jael spun, horrified eyes on Aleksander who turned back to Axl. ‘Run!’ And she charged out of the circle towards her brother. ‘Run! To me! To me! All of you! Run!’ And shocked into action, the confused Brekkans, Islanders, and Alekkans abandoned their shield walls and started moving towards Jael. ‘To me!’ she screamed at Ivaar. ‘Hurry! Ayla! Dragmall! Run!’

  Rexon heard her, and he spun to his right where his archers were positioned above the entrance to the vale. Sheathing his sword, he flapped his arms, shouting, trying to get their attention.

  On the opposite clifftop, Raymon could see him. He could hear Jael shouting as she ran, and he could feel the clifftop shudder.

  The two dazed dreamers were already scrambling to their feet, leaving their fire and wagon behind, running forward, Bruno and Astrid with them, listening to the ominous rumble as the mountains started collapsing on either side of them; rocks and boulders crashing down on the warriors who were boxed in with nowhere to run. Stuck in lines, trapped, unable to move quickly; catapults behind them, men in front.

  Men who could only scream, hands above their heads as they were buried alive.

  Ontine was giving Edela some water, helping her up onto a stool when Eydis burst out of her trance, head spinning, not knowing where she was for a moment.

  ‘Eydis?’ Ontine looked worried as she left Edela and hurried to help her to her feet. ‘Are you alright? Did you do it? Did you free Eadmund?’

  Eydis staggered backwards, unable to hear anything but the screams of the army as it was crushed by the crumbling mountains. Her head ached as she felt her way to a stool, sensing Entorp nearby. Edela and Derwa too. She bent over, coughing uncontrollably.

  ‘Here,’ Ontine smiled, handing her a cup. ‘Drink.’

  And Eydis did, draining the entire cup. ‘Eadmund is back.’

  Entorp’s smile of relief was wide. ‘Well done, Eydis! And you too, Edela.’ But even in his slightly befuddled state, he could see that something was wrong. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Draguta.’ Eydis couldn’t sit still. She put her cup on the ground and stood, trying to think. ‘Draguta has trapped them. Separated them. Crushed them. Half of the men and all of the catapults are trapped outside the vale.’

  ‘Oh!’ Entorp was quickly waking up.

  ‘What?’ Gant was at the edge of the circle, frustrated by how helpless he felt. He ran his hands down the sides of his face, scratching his beard, eyebrows knitting together. ‘Can you do anything from here?’

  Edela could barely see, but she could think. ‘Yes. Always. Bring me the book, Ontine. Let us get to work. And Gant, stay alert,’ she urged, her eyes struggling to focus on the men who had joined him. Berard was there. Ulf and Bram too. She coughed, hearing Jael screaming, bellowing at her men. ‘All of you in here! We cannot help you while we are helping them, so stay alert. If you sense anything is happening in the fort, you must let us know.’

  Gant nodded. ‘I’ll go outside. Check with the men on the ramparts. Make sure they’re watching closely.’ He glanced at Gisila who had come back into the hall and was now whispering to Sybill. ‘I won’t be long.’

  Sybill stiffened, eyes on Gant. ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ she smiled at Gisila. ‘I must just check on something in the kitchen.’

  Eydis and Edela were trying to focus, Ontine hovering behind them.

  Derwa was hobbling around the circle, attempting to breathe deeply, feeling herself panic. She was not a real dreamer, though her senses were greater than most, but she had not been admitted into the temple as a girl. The elders had decided that her skills were better used for healing. The dreamers, they’d said, had seen that. And Derwa had believed them, though she was often surprised by the vivid clarity of her dreams; further surprised when those dreams then came true.

  Perhaps there was something in her?

  A way that she could help.

  ‘Help!’

  Jael could hear the screams of her injured and dying men as she turned to Thorgils and Aleksander. ‘Go! Help Axl!’ She could see her brother beside Ivaar and Rork, trying to drag the remainder of the army into formation again, dust clouds swirling around their shocked faces.

  Her mind was tumbling.

  The catapults were lost or trapped outside the vale now. She scanned the collapsed clifftops, not seeing much movement. She couldn’t get a sense of Raymon or Rexon at all. Turning around, she grabbed a shell-shocked Fyn, and, pulling him close, she whispered in his ear, pushing him away, urging him to hurry.

  The Hestians were approaching, the dreamers were chanting, and Draguta had extended her arms, readying another attack.

  ‘We have to kill her!’ Jael shouted. Clouds of dust were pumping towards them, and she was struggling to breathe. ‘It’s the only way to stop it!’

  Eadmund nodded; there was nothing he wanted to do more.

  Jael urged him forward, towards where Karsten and Jaeger lay, neither of them moving.

  Draguta inhaled slowly, her hands up to the sky, parting the clouds and the dust, bringing back the sunshine. She smiled in the bright glow of it. Carnage everywhere, and not all of it desirable, admittedly, but Jael Furyck’s army was in ruins, her catapults gone, her archers dead, and as for any help she might get from those gods...

  There was nothing they could do now.

  The sword and the shield?

  Jael and Eadmund?

  Draguta laughed. All those centuries of planning... for what?

  She called out to Berger, demanding his attention, urging him to finish the Brekkans. He could keep them busy while she focused on killing Jael and Eadmund.

  Brill swallowed, listening to Draguta.

  She had been positioned behind Briggit, waiting to be of use, knowing that Draguta wanted her watched carefully. And now she had seen something.

  She had to get to Draguta now!

  Picking up her feet, Brill started moving around the Followers, trying not to be seen.

  Ayla and Dragmall had hurriedly made a new circle, though another fire was proving more difficult. Bruno had found some wood burning amongst the rubble, though its flames were barely flickering and there were no herbs to help them into a trance. But the armies were moving again now, and they knew that they were running out of time to try and break the Followers’ circle.

  Bruno had quickly rallied a dozen dust-covered Islanders to help him and the wagon guards keep Ayla, Astrid, and Dragmall safe. Shields up they stood around their circle watching as Axl led his men forward again.

  The noise in the arena was deafening now as Brill started to move faster towards Draguta. It was so loud that she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her or the swish of the knife as it swept through the air,
straight through the back of her neck.

  She fell to the ground, the pain like an explosion of lightning.

  And then nothing but darkness.

  Despite the choking dust and his own panic as the noise of the warriors intensified all around him, Dragmall’s mind cleared. ‘She broke the mountains with a ring!’ He could almost see the black stone on Draguta’s finger pulsing in the distance. ‘Ayla, we must get that ring!’

  Meena had crept up to stand near Draguta, avoiding Evaine, whose desire to get her cousin in trouble had suddenly become far less important than her need to see if Eadmund was safe. She could see him with Jael, working together now, freed from Draguta’s spell. Evaine panicked, knowing that if Eadmund had turned against Draguta, she would surely kill him.

  Meena froze suddenly, hearing Dragmall’s voice in her head again. And not even stopping to think, she threw herself forward, knocking Draguta sideways, onto the ground, the ring flying off her finger. And then, from out of the Tree of Agrayal flew Fyr, glistening in the sunshine as she swooped down in a furious flash of black feathers, grabbing the ring in her claws before flapping away.

  Draguta scrambled back to her feet, screeching in horror, searching for the raven. And then the arrow struck, straight through Draguta’s right shoulder. She jerked backwards, her attention snapping to Jael Furyck who stood inside a tiny circle in the arena, bow in hand, readying another arrow.

  Draguta screamed, and the arrow popped out of her shoulder, falling harmlessly to the grass. ‘You think that you can kill me?’ she laughed, though she was confused, wondering how the arrow had penetrated her circle.

  How had it struck her? And who had knocked her over?

  But she couldn’t look around to see what was happening now. All of her attention was on Jael Furyck.

  ‘No,’ Jael said softly, knowing that despite the crashing noise in the arena, Draguta could still hear her. ‘But I can distract you.’ And she smiled, watching as Draguta’s eyes bulged, realising that the raven had gone.

  Taken her ring and flown away.

  ‘Draguta!’ Evaine called, her hand around Meena’s wrist, yanking her cousin forward, hoping to distract her from killing Eadmund.