by A. E. Rayne
‘You!’ Draguta yelled, spinning around to glare at a trembling Meena who was trying to slip out of Evaine’s pincer-like hold. ‘You did this?’ Her eyes drifted to Meena’s bleeding hand, noticing the outline of a symbol on her arm. ‘You disloyal little bitch! Kill her!’ she snarled at Evaine, realising that as much as she wanted to end Meena Gallas herself, she was losing control of the fight in the arena. ‘You want me to save Eadmund? Take your knife and kill her!’ She spun back around, her attention returning to Jael Furyck. ‘You think I need that ring? To hurt you? Ha!’ And leaning forward, Draguta lifted the lid on the smallest of her boxes, picking up something too tiny for Jael to see. Adding it to a bowl, she started stirring with a finger, chanting, indicating for her dreamers to join in.
Evaine grabbed Meena by the hair. She was taller than her cousin, and despite being slighter, she was stronger, and she dragged Meena towards her, teeth clenched, eyes wild. Meena fought back, panic thundering in her ears, wanting to run. She needed to escape before Draguta finished what she was doing, but Evaine wouldn’t let her go.
Wrapping her hand around Meena’s hair, Evaine held her in place, drawing her knife from its scabbard, sweeping its sharp blade towards Meena’s throat.
Meena despised her cousin. She hated everything about her.
And there was no way she was going to let that preening, self-obsessed girl kill her. Gritting her teeth, she jerked away from the blade, swinging her head into Evaine’s face, smashing her in the nose. Evaine cried out as her nose broke, still gripping the knife. She blinked away the pain, trying to see, jabbing the blade forward again, but Meena didn’t care about the knife. She felt it cut her arms as she pushed her cousin backwards, onto the ground, pinning her there, hands around Evaine’s long neck.
Evaine tried to scream, her eyes bulging but Meena squeezed even harder, sitting on top of her now, squeezing until Evaine’s face turned pink and purple and her eyes almost popped out of her head, and she released the knife, her hand going limp by her side.
Meena fell off her, panting, eyes up on Draguta who was watching the arena.
She had to hurry.
She had to try and escape before she spun around.
55
Sybill slipped through the kitchen door, racing around the back of the hall, intercepting Gant. ‘Over here!’ she cried. ‘Quick!’
Gant turned away from the guard he’d been about to speak to and hurried towards her.
Axl slammed his shield forward as the armies came together. The noise intensified, warriors smashing against each other, bellowing and cursing as they tried to gain purchase in the slippery gravel, spears jabbing over the top of shields, knives and swords slipping through gaps between them, stabbing unprotected legs.
Axl tried to keep his head clear, conscious of the need to know what was happening. He couldn’t get lost in the battle. He had to lead. ‘Push!’ he yelled. ‘Push them back! Push!’
Draguta didn’t notice the noise. She didn’t notice that Evaine was dead or that Meena had disappeared. All of her attention was on the centre of the arena, watching as the ground suddenly burst open, dirt and rocks flying into the air.
The clash of armies was quickly disrupted as warriors on both sides froze, bloody weapons in mid-air, the ground undulating behind them, around them, all around the vale.
Thorgils had joined Aleksander and Axl at the front of the Brekkan shield wall, and he was confused, his heart galloping like a runaway horse. ‘What is that? What’s happening?’ And looking down in surprise, he saw creatures wriggling around his boots. ‘Worms?’
Jael jumped towards Eadmund as their circle cracked, the ground beneath them breaking open. ‘Get back!’ she turned and screamed, her eyes meeting Aleksander’s. ‘Back to the mountains!’
‘More herbs, Derwa,’ Edela yawned, trying to push herself back into another trance. It was proving difficult, though she had no idea why. She felt ready to sleep for a year.
But Derwa wasn’t listening. She had backed away from Ontine, Edela, and Eydis. Entorp too.
Something was bothering her.
Or someone.
She had seen Sybill. Watched her eyes. Saw her disappearing into the kitchen again. And something about those enormous eyes continued to disturb her. Colour, she realised. She had seen a colour, and though Sybill’s eyes were pale blue, Derwa had seen black.
She stepped out of the circle.
The tiny black worms wriggled across the gravel, searching for each other, and when they found another worm, they joined together.
One by one, fewer and fewer worms.
Making bigger and bigger worms.
And then there was only one giant worm, throwing itself around the vale at Draguta’s command. It crashed down onto the earth, jaws prising apart, sharp fangs dripping with thick saliva, its dark body shivering with spiky fins as it surged forward.
Aiming for Jael and Eadmund.
Dragmall scrambled to his feet. Head up, he scanned the arena, his eyes bulging. ‘It’s a where-worm!’ he yelled, ducking down again, scarcely believing that Draguta had conjured up such a creature. And grabbing Ayla’s hand, he pulled her towards him. ‘Quick! We have to do something!’
‘Derwa!’ Biddy hissed, watching the old healer shuffle towards the grey curtain. ‘The circle! What are you doing?’
Bram’s eyes were on Derwa too, wondering much the same. ‘I’ll find out what’s going on.’ He turned back to Ulf who was sitting by Bayla. She had left the children in the square with Isaura and Branwyn, following Hanna back inside the hall, both of them eager to see what was happening. ‘Ulf, with me.’ His eyes went to Berard and Hanna. ‘Keep an eye on that circle.’
Bayla grabbed Ulf’s hand, feeling her heartbeat skip. She squeezed tightly. ‘Don’t leave.’
‘I’ll be right back,’ he smiled distractedly. ‘Don’t worry.’
Bayla watched him go, her eyes drifting back to the circle as Biddy tried to wake Edela out of the trance she’d finally slipped into.
‘How do we kill it?’ Eadmund yelled at Jael as they ran away from the where-worm.
The worm crashed around the vale, chasing them, its high-pitched screech piercing their ears. And though Jael’s chest was pumping and her heart was racing, she suddenly felt calm. She saw her father and the path before her cleared. All the noise and distractions were gone as she turned and ran for the worm whose head was up, its long fangs dripping, its slithering body slamming onto the arena, ready to crush anyone it landed on. ‘Come on!’ she cried, waiting for Eadmund, who, realising that Jael had changed direction, spun around after her.
Eadmund’s sword was drawn, Esk’s shield banging against his chest, wondering how he could keep Jael safe, or anyone else for that matter. He watched in horror as the worm swung its giant head into the army’s left flank, sending the shield-bearing Alekkans flying through the air, smashing against rubble and each other, landing on the ground with sickening thuds, bones breaking, necks snapping. And wrenching open its jaw, the worm kept going, crunching its way into the Alekkans, trying to devour those broken, terrified warriors whole.
‘Over here!’ Jael screamed, and the worm swung around, long tail flicking angrily, red eyes glowing. Toothpick was sheathed now, and she had her bow in her hand, drawing arrow after arrow from her quiver, aiming for the worm’s spiky head. It screeched in anger as the arrows struck, lurching forward. ‘Run!’ And Jael turned, throwing away her bow, lungs burning, ribs aching as she charged towards the Followers and Draguta.
Leading the where-worm far away from her men.
‘What is it?’ Gant was worried and confused. Sybill appeared to be shaking as she led him into the garden.
‘I found a woman! Dead! Over here!’ Sybill looked horrified, but as Gant ran towards the blood-soaked body of Dara Teros, her expression changed. ‘Someone’s murdered her!’ she cried from behind him, watching as he bent over, hands on Dara’s head, pushing hair away from her face, trying to see if he recognis
ed her.
And then Sybill was behind him, knife out.
‘No!’
Derwa’s cry from the kitchen door had Gant spinning around, but not in time as Sybill lunged for him, blade jerking, stabbing him in the thigh. Gant yelled out, grabbing her wrist, her knife falling to the ground with a dull thud. ‘You?’ He grimaced, the sting of the wound sharp. ‘Who are you?’
‘Gant!’ Derwa screamed as figures appeared from around the back of the kitchen. Hooded men. Six of them. ‘Behind you!’
Gant spun, dragging out his sword, blood coursing down his leg.
Limping.
‘Who the fuck are you?’
‘Followers!’ Derwa could see everything clearly now. ‘They’re Followers!’
Meena couldn’t escape through the Followers. Their circle was tightly bound, black robe to black robe. She didn’t want to attract Draguta’s attention by trying to force her way through. She didn’t want to attract Draguta’s attention at all, so she hid around the back of the Tree of Agrayal, hoping its leafy branches would shield her as she tried to think of what to do, her eyes drifting to the Book of Darkness.
Draguta’s eyes were following Jael and Eadmund as they ran towards her, jumping over gaping cracks, and deep worm holes, losing their balance as the screeching creature smashed the earth behind them, surging closer.
Jael could feel the rhythm of the Followers’ chanting now and Draguta’s voice like water, rippling around the vale, urging the worm on. And if she could just keep them all busy, perhaps Edela or Ayla could kill it.
Edela was panicking. Nothing was coming to mind. ‘Eydis, can you hear Dara Teros? Can she help?’
Eydis was mumbling, though, and her voice sounded muffled, too far away for Edela to understand anything she was saying. And then Biddy broke into her trance, and Edela was quickly back in the hall, inside her circle.
Her broken circle.
‘What happened?’ Edela coughed, glancing around, blinking. ‘Derwa? Where’s Derwa?’
Jael had to try and slow the worm down quickly. It would crush every Brekkan, every Islander, every Alekkan too. She turned and ran at it, Toothpick extended to her left, dragging his blade through a thick fold of black skin, dropping to the ground, rolling quickly away. The worm squealed, its sharp cry drilling into her ears. Eadmund was behind her, stabbing his sword into the where-worm’s snapping tail as it turned.
In and out. Dropping and rolling away.
Aleksander could see them and reminded of how they had killed the serpent in Andala’s harbour, he turned to his men. ‘We need to help Jael! Her sword can bring it down! Her sword can bring it down!’ And leaving Axl to pull his men back into formation, and Thorgils and Ivaar in charge of the Islanders, he grabbed ten Brekkans and ran after Jael.
Ulf and Bram rushed past Derwa, down the kitchen steps, running to join Gant who was fighting off six sword-wielding Followers. His arm was bleeding, his leg wound gushing blood into his boot now. He kept turning, eyes darting around the garden, knowing that Gisila was in the hall.
He wasn’t letting any Followers inside.
Bram’s sword was drawn, his eyes on the black-robed figures. ‘Need a little help?’
Gant didn’t show how relieved he was. ‘They’re Followers! Thought I’d killed that one,’ he growled, pointing to the stocky man on his right. ‘Slit his throat, but he got up, no wounds on him. Not sure what’s going on!’
Derwa had seen it herself, and she turned back to the door, realising that they needed more help. But suddenly, Sybill was there.
And she had her knife.
The where-worm flicked its bleeding tail at Eadmund, sending him flying, shield spiralling away and Jael roared, lunging forward, stabbing Toothpick into its side, smelling the stink of the creature as she rolled away, jumping back to her feet, running to grab the shield.
Thinking about Fyn.
Now, Fyn. Now!
‘Aarrghh!’ Derwa stumbled back down the step, pulled over by Sybill who had hold of her long white braid.
‘Derwa!’ Bram spun around, but he was trapped between two Followers, and he couldn’t get through to help her. ‘Derwa!’ He elbowed one in the eye, lashing out with his sword, but another sliced his blade towards him and Bram was jumping back, falling against Ulf who tumbled over.
‘You?’ Berard was at the kitchen door, eyes popping open in surprise. Quickly taking in the bloody scene, he slammed his boot into Sybill’s face, sending her flying, knife gone again. But she scrambled back to her feet, drawing another, her bleeding mouth hanging open, big eyes blinking with frenzy.
‘Kill her!’ Gant panted, ducking a scything blade. ‘Berard! Kill that bitch!’
And Berard gripped his sword tighter in his left hand, ignoring the throbbing in his stump and his discomfort about killing this woman, who, up until now, had been so friendly. He saw the evil look in her strange eyes, though, and he saw Derwa on the ground, blood pouring from her head, her eyes fixed open, Gant, Bram, and Ulf fighting out of the corner of his eye.
And jumping over Derwa’s dead body, Berard lunged for Sybill, pushing his sword through the folds of her sagging neck, forcing it straight out the other side as he fell on top of her.
Raymon had an arrow through his shoulder. Another in his thigh. The pain was blinding, and he thought he might pass out, but he was trying to see how he could help Jael. She needed help killing the giant worm, but though they still had some arrows and archers to fire them, he wasn’t going to risk hitting her and her men. They were running too close to the worm, slashing it, trying to kill it, but he didn’t see how they could. It was longer than his hall, almost as wide.
And as for those fangs...
Fyn’s eyes were up, scanning the clifftops as he climbed the rubble, spear down, close to his body, slipping occasionally, hoping no one was watching him. He thought of Eydis and his mother. And he kept climbing. He needed to get high enough to raise a flag. And then Jael’s voice was suddenly ringing in his ears, and he stopped where he was, balancing himself against the uneven rocks as he shoved the spear in the air, red flag fluttering from its tip, hoping someone would see. He wasn’t high enough yet for those on the other side of the rubble, he knew, but if someone on the clifftops was watching...
Edela felt torn. She didn’t understand what was happening in the hall.
Where had Derwa gone? And why had she broken the circle?
But she could feel Ayla’s panic back at the vale. They needed help urgently.
Jael and Eadmund too.
So closing the circle, she hurried to join Eydis and Ontine.
Both armies were back behind their shield walls now, flattened against the mountains, more concerned with keeping out of the where-worm’s chaotic path than trying to kill each other.
Thorgils held his shield to his chest, eyes on the terrifying black creature throwing itself around the arena, making holes near Karsten who was flopping up and down beside his brother. He didn’t know if either of them lived, but the way that worm was bounding around, soon it wouldn’t make any difference. He ran to Ivaar who’d been knocked flying by the worm, yanking him to his feet, handing him a shield. ‘We need to see if Karsten’s alive. Come on!’
Karsten’s body moved helplessly, launched into the air as the worm slammed its dark belly down onto the arena and then its tail. He couldn’t see what it was, but he could smell it, and he could hear it, and he knew that soon it would land on top of him. He tried to close his eye, though it made little difference. He couldn’t see a thing.
And then a voice.
‘Thought you’d be more use than this, but I guess you’re a Dragos, so we shouldn’t have expected much.’ And Thorgils quickly had hold of one side of him, Ivaar the other, and together, they dragged a limp Karsten away from the where-worm, past Jael and Eadmund who were tearing holes across the worm’s leaking middle with their blades.
Jael stopped, sensing something, and hearing shouts from the clifftops, she spun toward
s Eadmund. ‘Run!’ And they charged away from the worm, which slithered after them, banging onto the ground, the impact knocking them over.
They were quickly back on their feet, running again.
Aleksander ran with them, one eye on Thorgils and Ivaar who were struggling to get Karsten behind Axl’s shield wall.
Three jars of sea-fire flew over the rubble, two smashing onto the earth, one breaking open on the worm’s spiky head.
‘Fire!’ Jael bellowed, hoping someone could hear her over the chanting Followers and the shrieking worm. ‘Fire!
Draguta spun around in fury, surprised to see Evaine sprawled on the ground behind her, stinking of death, Meena Gallas nowhere to be seen. Her anger spiked as she scanned her chanting dreamers. ‘Briggit! Come up here! Beside me! I have grown bored! We will end this now! Together!’
Briggit nodded, hurrying forward, her body humming.
Draguta’s head snapped to where Axl had stepped out of the shield wall, bowstring to his ear, flaming arrow nocked and ready. She smiled, one hand twisting, as though his heart was in it, trying not to be distracted by her missing ring. Turning her hands again, she aimed the bleeding wreck of a worm at the King of Brekka. ‘Goodbye, Axl Furyck!’
Edela heard her.
That taunting, evil voice had been in her head for as long as she could remember. She knew that now. That voice had always sounded so victorious, so confident that she would never be stopped.
But they could stop her.
Jael could.
