by A. E. Rayne
And so could she.
And lurching out of her trance, Edela dragged her knife from its scabbard, slicing across her palm. Bending down, a clear vision of the Book of Aurea in her mind now, she drew a circle, seeing the words on the vellum page as she chanted them softly, listening as they rumbled in her chest like thunder rolling in the distance; seeing herself drawing a dreamer circle of protection around Axl.
‘Edela Saeveld,’ Draguta growled, cocking her head to one side. ‘What’s that you say? Old, but not dead yet?’
And Axl’s arrow struck the where-worm in the jowls of its black neck, igniting it in an explosion of flames; more fire arrows shooting down from the clifftops.
Jael, Eadmund, and Aleksander threw themselves to the ground; Thorgils, Ivaar, and Karsten behind them. Flames everywhere.
More explosions.
Waves of heat surging over their heads.
The worm lurched forward, flames bursting from its nearly severed tail, its mouth open, bellowing in pain, fangs dripping with blood. Balls of fire shot up into the darkening sky – gold and red, hot and loud – and it toppled over, smashing down onto the arena, rocks and gravel flying, coming to a shuddering stop just before an open-mouthed Axl.
Draguta didn’t even blink. ‘Birds! Where are my birds?’ she screeched at Briggit, who nodded calmly, pointing to the wall of rubble in the distance.
Jael’s eyes were on the woman with Draguta, and she was on her feet and running. ‘Thorgils! Take Karsten back to Axl! Get behind the shields! Eadmund! Come on!’ She turned to Aleksander. ‘Go with them!’
He looked hesitant, his eyes darting around, watching the Hestians on the move again, arrows flying. ‘No! I’m coming with you! You need me!’
Jael frowned, but there was no time to argue.
She ran after Eadmund, heading for the grassy ridge, Aleksander right behind her.
Dragmall watched them running, his eyes drifting to the circle of Followers, confused, muttering to himself before squatting back down beside Ayla again. ‘Their circle is open, I can feel it. The Followers’ circle is open!’ He didn’t understand it at all. ‘Don’t they realise it?’
Ayla wasn’t listening. ‘Something is coming, Dragmall!’ Her eyes were up, trying to see past the clouds. She couldn’t see anything yet, but she could feel it. Despite the cloying heat of the late afternoon, she couldn’t stop shivering.
‘Keep guard!’ Bruno growled at the Islanders around him. ‘Close up!’ He peered at Ivaar, who had joined him, leaving Thorgils to get Karsten somewhere he could lie down. More Islanders hurried forward with more shields, making a tighter house around the circle. Bruno didn’t even feel irritated by Ivaar’s presence. He needed all the help he could get to keep Ayla safe. He spun around, eyes on his wife, watching as hers popped open, pointing to the sky. Pointing to the giant red birds flying towards them in squawking waves, diving over the rubble wall, wings flaming as they descended into the vale.
Gripping his shield tightly, locked into place with Bruno, Ivaar felt all the air leave his lungs as the birds swooped towards them, cawing angrily. ‘Higher!’ he shouted. ‘Lift your shields higher!’
The shrill cry of the birds rang in Eadmund’s ears as he ran. ‘Behind me!’ he yelled as Draguta lifted her arms, slamming her hands forward, shards of light crackling through the air towards them. He threw up his shield, an explosion of light sparking off the rim. Keeping his head low, Eadmund charged forward, Jael running just behind him.
Draguta screamed in frustration, dropping her hands low, throwing them to the right, and Eadmund with them. He was back on his feet quickly, though, shield at his chest again, in front of Jael, moving forward with speed now, Aleksander keeping watch from behind.
56
Ulf was on the ground, two Followers on top of him and then one fell forward, a blade through the back of his neck.
And he didn’t get up.
Bram panted, drawing out his bloody sword, spinning at the sound of footsteps behind him, hoping that Ulf could help them finish off the final three men who appeared quite able to die now.
‘Gant!’ Ulf rasped as the bigger of the three crept around behind him, drawing a knife. ‘Watch out!’
The Follower spun, flicking his knife at Ulf who was too surprised to move. Even more surprised when it lodged in his shoulder.
Mad too.
‘Fuck!’ Ulf roared, leaving the knife where it landed, charging forward with his sword. ‘Kill them!’ And he ran, screaming, his body vibrating with an anger he’d never experienced before. He thought of Bayla inside the hall, the children outside in the square, one-armed Berard who was struggling to see how he could help, and poor Derwa, dead on the steps.
He wasn’t going to let them past.
Gant swung his sword with both hands, chopping off the still-hooded head of one man, while Bram who’d been knocked to the ground, stabbed his knife through the eye of another. And Ulf lunged, chopping his sword into the waist of the last Follower, throwing himself on top of his collapsed body, knife out, dragging it across his throat.
The four men staggered together, glancing around, scanning the garden, making sure that no one else was coming.
The worm was dead, but the vale was now under assault from flaming birds.
Berger was holding the Hestian army behind their shields, until a screech from Draguta urged him to engage. He lifted his sword, trying to make himself heard over the noise of the birds as he led his men forward.
Axl could hear him, but he didn’t want to engage at all. He had to keep his remaining men alive, though they wouldn’t be alive for long if they stood there, waiting to be attacked. ‘Forward!’ he yelled, trying to swallow. ‘Move forward!’
Dragmall felt the warriors moving all around him as he crouched on the ground inside the tiny circle. He had tried two symbols already, but neither had worked, and he glanced at Ayla, hoping she had some ideas.
The birds swooped around the circle, wings flaming, long beaks jabbing the warriors who couldn’t get their shields up in time. And through all the chaos and panic, a memory of a symbol flickered in Ayla’s mind, immediately slipping out of reach as Astrid shrieked next to her, watching as two flaming birds barrelled towards their circle, shearing away at the last moment, unable to penetrate it.
Bruno screamed, and Ayla spun as he fell, gorged through the leg by a bird which drew back its beak, aiming for Bruno’s chest. Ivaar was quickly there, butting his shield boss into the bird’s head. It exploded in a ball of flames, knocking him over, singing his face. He shook his head, struggling back to his feet, aiming for the next bird who was coming for Bruno, stabbing it through the neck. He could feel the heat of flames surging towards him, and his attention drifted to Ayla who was shouting at her husband. He didn’t hear the bird behind him until it was too late and the beak had punctured his back, severing his spine. He didn’t even cry out as he collapsed to the ground, trying desperately to keep hold of his sword as the darkness came.
The Islander on Bruno’s left caught fire as a hammer bird knocked him into Bruno, both of them falling to the ground. Bruno lifted his sword, trying to protect himself, but not in time as more birds dove towards him, one piercing its beak through his chest, another tearing a hole in his throat before they both flapped away.
‘No!’ Ayla cried, her heart stopping. ‘Bruno! No!’
Dragmall’s eyes were full of sympathy, but he had to get her attention before everyone was dead. ‘We have to stop the birds! Ayla, we need a symbol now!’
Ayla heard the waves of chanting from the ridge, louder now, like the crashing boom of a waterfall, like the surge of grief and pain threatening to drown her. But Dragmall’s presence grounded her, and the pressure of his squeezing hand woke up some small part of her, and the symbol flashed in front of her eyes, clearly now.
Slipping her hand out of Dragmall’s, she unsheathed her knife, cutting across her palm.
Gant and Bram stood over the dead woman.
> ‘Who is she?’ Bram wondered, staring down at Dara Teros in her blood-soaked robe. ‘Do you recognise her?’
Gant shook his head, flicking blood onto the ground. ‘No. Perhaps a distraction? A way to get me out here so the Followers could attack me? I don’t know. We need to get back to the hall, though. Leave Sybill. She can rot where she lies, but let’s carry the woman inside. See if anyone recognises her.’ He froze, remembering Sybill’s daughter, Ontine, and hurrying towards the kitchen, he tapped Ulf on the shoulder. ‘Help Bram with the woman. Berard, head inside and get someone to carry poor Derwa.’
Ulf nodded, stumbling towards Bram, who was reaching for Dara’s legs.
Which twitched.
Axl couldn’t see through the flames of his burning men. He couldn’t hear anything but the screams of those who were dying, injured, on fire, collapsing around him.
And the smoke. It was choking them all.
The Hestians were struggling just as much, he could see. There was little incentive to move forward for either army now.
Thorgils was beside him. ‘The birds are dying!’ he shouted. ‘Look!’
And Axl lifted his eyes to the sky as the birds exploded across the arena in bright balls of fire.
Draguta barely noticed. Her attention was on Eadmund who was running towards her, hiding behind that ridiculous shield like the true coward he was.
Another crushing disappointment.
And what use had Jaeger been? What use had any of them been?
That shield was keeping her from Jael Furyck, and Draguta knew that she had to get past it, so crouching down, she dug into another box, pulling out a dark piece of rope. Dipping it into her last bowl of potion, she swirled it in the liquid until it was thickly coated, wrapping it around her wrist. Standing with a smile, she reached out towards the viewing platform, blood splattering her white dress as she pointed at Esk. And curling her wrist around, Draguta released the hulking god from his prison, drawing him into the fight.
Fyr cawed loudly, and Jael turned to see Esk stomping across the arena, batting Hestian warriors out of the way as he strode towards Eadmund. ‘Eadmund! Run! Move!’
But in a few strides, Esk was there, his long powerful arms shunting Eadmund to the ground. Jael ran towards them, slashing Toothpick at Esk, who ignored her, stone-faced, dead-eyed and determined to kill her husband.
Eadmund roared, rushing back to his feet, gritting his teeth as he brought the shield in front of his chest, sword tip poking over the rim, charging for the god who swung out an arm and knocked him away with such force that Eadmund lost his grip on his sword and the shield. He flew through the air, crashing to the ground with a thump.
Draguta smiled.
No Eadmund. No shield.
She turned to Jael Furyck, licking her red lips.
Gant stood on the edge of Edela’s circle, not knowing what to do. Edela and Eydis were in a trance. Helping Jael. Helping Aleksander and Axl.
He didn’t know what to do.
‘Gant!’ Gisila gasped, her eyes on his blood-soaked trousers, his cut face. ‘What happened?’
Edela fell out of the trance, drawn back into the hall, peering at Gant. ‘What happened?’ she croaked, bending over, coughing, Ontine and Eydis blinking beside her.
‘We need to help Jael and Eadmund!’ Eydis panicked, reaching out in the darkness. ‘Edela! We have to go back.’ Then she froze.
She could smell blood.
Esk had Eadmund in his arms, and he raised him above his head, throwing him away as though he were a cloak.
‘Eadmund!’ Jael cried, watching him crash to the ground again. She waited a heartbeat, eyes flicking to Draguta and back to her husband who wasn’t moving this time. ‘Eadmund!’
He wasn’t moving at all.
Draguta raised her arms, pointing them at Jael who hesitated, then ran, Toothpick in front of her, slashing from side to side, charging straight for the woman in white.
Aleksander ran past her, ahead of her, his shield up as Draguta slammed her hands forward, lightning shooting from her palms, sending bolts of fire straight through Aleksander’s shield, into his chest.
‘No!’ Jael screamed, stumbling to a stop, watching as he fell before her. ‘No!’
She turned to her right where Eadmund lay, his shield lost, and now Esk was turning, coming for her.
And Aleksander wasn’t moving.
‘No! No!’ Pain burned holes in Jael’s heart, and she couldn’t think.
Fyr dove down from the swirling clouds, aiming for Esk.
Her son.
Esk was her son. And she flew low. Low and fast, piercing her beak straight through the back of his thick neck, flying away as he staggered to a stop, mouth yanked open in surprise, before dropping to the ground.
‘Jael!’
It was her father’s voice, waking her up, and she ran to Aleksander, throwing herself on top of him. ‘No! Please! No!’
His eyes were open. They were open, but he was dead.
‘No!’ Jael’s head dropped forward, tears flowing. ‘Oh, please! Grandmother! Help me! Ayla! Help me! No!’
‘Jael! Jael!’
It wasn’t her father. It was Eadmund.
Eadmund was limping towards her, shield back in his hand, Esk lying dead on the ground behind him now.
But Jael didn’t see him. All of her attention was on Aleksander, wanting to believe that there was some way to bring him back. She couldn’t fight through the pain that was drowning her. She couldn’t feel anything but the agony of loss as she lay there, holding him, willing him to wake up.
Draguta laughed, watching her.
Her enemy. Weak and broken now.
Pathetic, useless Jael Furyck.
Jael could hear her, and she dragged herself off Aleksander’s body, tears blurring her eyes, her body shuddering with grief, Toothpick still in her hand.
‘Jael! No!’ Eadmund screamed, sensing that she was about to move, trying to run. He needed to reach her.
She needed the shield.
Draguta was enjoying herself now. ‘You thought the gods knew how to kill me? You and your little sword? Your useless husband? Your pointless lover? Ha! Nothing can protect you from me and my book!’ And she twisted her hands, lightning exploding, shooting forward.
‘You fucking bitch!’ Jael roared, watching the sparks surge towards her. Everything slowed down, blurring around her as she dragged Toothpick up in front of her chest.
And then bright shards of light exploded all around her, sending her flying through the air, head cracking onto the ground.
‘Jael!’ And Eadmund was bending over her, the shield protecting them both, teeth bared, trying to fight back the waves of pain. His sword was sheathed, his hand was out, reaching for her. ‘We can’t stop! It’s too late now! We have to kill her! Come on!’ His voice was strained with urgency, but looking down, his face fell. Jael’s sword was broken.
Tears in her eyes, Jael stared up at him.
Aleksander was dead.
And Toothpick was gone.
‘The Following?’ Ontine looked horrified. ‘What do you mean, The Following?’ She kept turning, eyes blinking, looking from Edela to Eydis, then back to Gant. ‘You killed her?’ She shook her head, tears falling quickly. ‘You killed my mother?’
Edela could hear Jael screaming; her grief like rain, falling over her. She could feel her own heart breaking, tears in her eyes. ‘Gant, take Ontine. Hold her, I...’ And she turned back to the fire, stumbling, trying to focus. ‘Hurry, Eydis. Entorp, more herbs. Hurry.’ She was sobbing as she creaked down to the floor. ‘We must... hurry before it’s too late. Jael needs us! She must finish this!’
Dara Teros woke to the puzzled looks of two old men who leaned over her, bearded mouths hanging open, swords in their hands. She jerked away from them, dazed, then everything came rushing back in an explosion of noise. ‘I must see Edela! Hurry! Take me to Edela Saeveld!’
Bram eyed her suspiciously. ‘You were dead.’
‘Hurry!’ Dara insisted, scrambling to her feet. ‘I must stop her. Hurry!’
‘Stop her?’ Ulf looked confused, reaching out to grab Dara’s arm. ‘Why?’
‘I can’t!’ Jael sobbed, on her knees, broken sword in her right hand. ‘I can’t!’
Panic and fear throbbed in Eadmund’s chest. He saw the tears in Jael’s eyes. He felt her broken heart. ‘We’ll do it together. We can kill her together. We have to, Jael. We have to!’
Jael stared at Eadmund, knowing that this was the end. She gripped Toothpick, trying not to think about Aleksander, feeling that cool moonstone against her palm as Eadmund bent forward to kiss her.
‘We were meant for this,’ he murmured, his lips against hers. ‘We have to stop Draguta. I can get you to her. Come on!’
Looking up, Jael watched as Draguta pushed out her hands, twisting them around, readying a final attack. And dragging herself back to her feet, she could feel anger exploding inside her now; nothing but anger as she gripped her broken sword, blinking suddenly.
Toothpick’s moonstone wasn’t cool.
‘No!’ Dara burst into the hall, eyes on Edela who was kneeling before the fire. ‘Stop! Edela! Jael can’t kill Draguta! You must stop her!’
Ontine slid out of Gant’s hold, running for the circle, throwing her arm around Edela’s throat. ‘No! You won’t stop her! You can’t stop her now! It’s too late! Can’t you feel it, Dara? You were too late!’
Eadmund rose, shield in front of Jael, who took one last look at Aleksander’s body, sucked in a ragged breath and ran for Draguta.
Eydis remained perfectly still, as though she stood in two places at once; hearing the thudding beat of Jael’s heart as she charged towards Draguta; feeling the surging panic of Edela who had a knife at her throat. Eydis could see that. She was dreaming, she knew. Not really there. She could see Dara Teros whose eyes did not move but whose thoughts were suddenly loud.
