Storm of Fury

by Bec McMaster

  Marduk flinched to the side, grabbing the spear with both hands and wrenching her forward in a move that was clearly premeditated. He smashed his forehead into hers, ripping the spear clear from her hands and tossing it behind him.

  Solveig barely staggered.

  Instead, she whipped her foot around, nearly taking Marduk’s head clean off his shoulders. Spinning low, she tried to take his feet out from under him. Marduk leapt lightly over the kick, landing behind her.

  Throwing herself into a roll, she came up with the spear in her hands again.

  “Ten years,” Marduk panted. “I think you missed me more than I missed you. I don’t believe I even spared you a thought, my love.”

  Solveig’s face tightened, and then she moved into a crippling combination. Head, knees, foot. Marduk managed to avoid all but the last, wincing as she drove the spear butt into his ankle. As he folded forward, the butt snapped up, crunching into his chin with a deafening sound.

  The prince slammed into the stone, Solveig driving the point of the spear toward his face.

  She pulled the blow at the last second, and Marduk froze, the sharp tip coming to rest against the flickering pulse in his throat.

  “Ten years,” she whispered, the tip of the spear drawing blood, “and all I’ve done is think of you.”

  Marduk’s eyes flashed gold as his inner dreki made its presence known. He captured the shaft of the spear, swallowing hard. “I guessed that from this meticulously plotted little exercise. The girl is yours?”

  Solveig leaned her weight on the spear. “The girl is mine.”

  The ground felt like it dropped away from beneath Tormund’s feet as his gaze found Bryn.

  The way she’d just happened to show up in their path that night in Grøa. All that protest about coin for her help in finding Marduk.

  The sword.

  The key.

  The way she’d fled from his arms yesterday in the river.

  He swallowed the truth down like a lump of molten rock, but it was the ache in his heart that hurt the most.

  “Brightfeather.” The dreki princess reached for her belt and tossed a bag of coin toward Bryn. “As promised.”

  Bryn snatched it out of the air, but she paused there as though the moment had caught her off guard too.

  “You,” he whispered.

  There was a look in her eyes he couldn’t decipher. A hesitancy that slipped through the cracks in her armor.

  But then she shoved the bag of coin into a pouch at her belt. “I told you I would ruin you. You wouldn’t listen.”

  “You’re working for her?” The words fell from his lips.

  “I said I would help you find the prince.” Bryn’s face tightened. “I didn’t say there weren’t others interested in finding him too.”

  “Enough.” Solveig stepped away from Marduk, the point of her spear trailing along the stone hard enough to draw sparks. “Bring the prince,” she called, snapping her fingers to her men. “And his friends. We have a northerly wind to catch.”

  Fourteen

  Betrayal tasted like horse piss—sour and stale—and Tormund didn’t want to think about it, didn’t even want to contemplate it, so he turned his mind to other matters.

  "Old lover?" he asked, hanging limply in chains.

  It wasn’t as though there was anything else to do, considering the way the iron door of the cell had slammed, and the drip drip drip of water trickling down thick stone walls. They’d been trussed up and flown north into the howling teeth of an icy wind, finally landing at the opening of what Solveig assured them was a prison near the court of the Sadu clan.

  Closer to home, yes, but from the look of that door—and the war marshal’s face—they weren’t getting out of here in a hurry.

  Marduk shot him a flat look from across the cell. "I would rather stick my hand in a volcano than touch that particular dreki."

  Tormund glanced at Haakon.

  Haakon arched a brow.

  "It's just..., Princess Solveig seems to hold quite a grudge. In my experience, women don't look that hell-bent on setting your britches on fire unless you've spurned them."

  “Considering the way you were glaring at that tall redhead, I’d have thought you’d have had more experience being spurned,” Marduk growled.

  Tormund forced a smile. He refused to be drawn—at least until he’d managed to track down said redhead and demand answers. “Does he sound like he’s trying to avoid the topic of a certain dreki princess?” he asked Haakon.

  “He does indeed.”

  “So what happened?" Tormund asked. “Did you promise Princess Solveig a dozen little dreki babies and then renege? Did you break her heart—”

  “She doesn’t have a heart,” Marduk snapped. “And no, I promised her nothing, nor would she demand it. We have never shared anything more than an antagonistic relationship.”

  “I think he’s lying,” Tormund told Haakon in a singsongy voice.

  “Dreki cannot lie,” Haakon replied, “though you have to be careful what questions you ask them. They’re very good at skirting the truth.”

  Marduk sank his head back against the stone wall and glared at the ceiling. "It's a long story."

  Tormund shook his chains. "We don't seem to be going anywhere in a hurry. Unless you can spell these chains?"

  "And these are always the best sort of stories," Haakon added.

  The prince sighed. "I stayed with King Harald for a month when I first left Iceland. We're distantly related. His mother married my father's cousin. There are also political ties between our clans, and my mother sent me here on behalf of a treaty. I saw my chance to escape the clan. Or more particularly, my mother. So I took it.”

  “Go on,” Tormund said, with a suggestive waggle of his brows.

  “The daughters of King Harald are known far and wide in the dreki world for their beauty, intelligence, and fierceness.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly have called her a beauty,” Tormund muttered. “She has a stare that could shrivel your privates.”

  “I didn’t say each daughter owned all three traits,” Marduk countered. “Princess Aslaug, known for her beauty; Princess Siv, for her intelligence; and Solveig, the Black Wolf. The Storm With Teeth.”

  Marduk sighed. "It's possible I composed a poem regarding the three of them the last time I was there. It was a rather rousing night with some of his warriors, and I cannot quite recall all the details—except for the fact I never wanted to drink again after it—but rumor has it the poem caught on. Sweet Aslaug; Fair Siv and... Solveig the Fierce."

  "Hardly an insult."

  The prince cleared his throat. "There might have been some mention of mating with Solveig being somewhat akin to sticking your cock in a bear trap. And to avoid such a fate at all costs."

  Even Tormund winced.

  "Hell, man," Haakon breathed. "No wonder she looks at you like she wants to use your guts for bowstring."

  "I know." Marduk sighed. "Suffice it to say, relations are somewhat frosty between us. The poem caught on. I’ve heard it sung in numerous courts by now."

  "You know"—Tormund shook his head—"I have done some incredibly stupid things in my time, but I do believe that beats anything I could even imagine doing.”

  “I tried to apologize,” Marduk snapped. “She nearly put a knife in me. And so I decided it wasn’t worth staying at Harald’s court any longer.”

  “What do you think she intends to do with us?” Haakon asked.

  “The pair of you are human, and there are laws regarding what we may or may not do to humans,” Marduk replied. “Besides, you are married to Árdís of the Zini clan. Solveig will have no choice but to let the pair of you go, or risk a war with my clan.”

  “You’re Árdís’s brother. Will Rurik not go to war if Solveig harms you?” Haakon’s eyes narrowed, and Tormund knew his cousin was starting to plot. The man had a wolf trap for a mind.

  “It’s complicated. I’m not entirely certain this is sanctioned
by her father, King Harald. If he was involved, then it would mean war, but if he is unaware of my imprisonment, then Solveig is acting alone and some will consider it a mere vendetta.” Marduk looked like he’d bitten into something sour. “Technically, she has cause.”

  “We don’t appear to be held in a dreki court.” Tormund looked around. “Unless Harald likes rats.”

  He hated rats. They were almost as despised as the undead.

  And betrayal.

  But I’m not thinking about that.

  “We’re not at his court. I daresay Solveig’s dreamed up this hellhole solely with the intention of humbling me. Harald’s court is to the north.” Marduk tilted his head and frowned. “It’s near the village of Kya.”

  Haakon looked up at where his manacles were bolted to the wall. He flexed the muscles in his biceps, straining valiantly. Nothing happened.

  “These manacles were built for dreki, mortal,” Marduk called. “You won’t be able to break them.”

  “I don’t intend to break them.” Haakon gave Tormund a look he knew far too well.

  “Oh, no.” He shook his head. “Whatever thought just crossed your mind, I want no part of it. I know that look. I’m going to hate this plan.”

  “You’re going to hate this plan,” Haakon confirmed. “But we’ll be free.”

  “The last time I followed one of your harebrained plans, I ended up with honey in my beard and a bear on my ass.”

  “She was a friendly bear,” Haakon protested.

  “That’s because she thought I was a male bear.”

  “Getting us out of these chains isn’t the difficult part,” Haakon replied in a soothing voice. “It’s getting the key that requires a little bit of… negotiating.”

  “What key?”

  Haakon twisted his body and looked down at his hips. “While the pair of you were trying to fight your way out of Solveig’s ambush, I was being friendly with Bryn.”

  “Being what? You’re married!”

  And she’s mine.

  “Not that kind of friendly.” Haakon arched an icy brow. “I stole her key. I thought it might be required at a later point.”

  “The key?” The breath went out of him.

  Haakon nodded.

  “What key?” Marduk looked confused. “And what bear?”

  “A key that can open any lock in the world.” Tormund’s mind raced. “Then what’s the problem?”

  “It’s in my pocket.” Haakon gave a wiggle of his hips, and then rattled his hands. “My back pocket.”

  Tormund looked up at Haakon’s bound hands. Then down at his cousin’s leather clad ass.

  “So we have a magical key that can unlock any fucking lock in the world, but we can’t get it?” he growled.

  “I can’t get it,” Haakon pointed out. “But you can.”

  “How the fuck am I going to get the key?” Even as he said the words, he was shaking his head. Oh, no. Hell, no.

  Haakon curled his body in half, wrapping one ankle around the manacles above him, his ass swaying in the air. “Use your teeth.”

  “We never speak of this again,” Tormund said, prowling through the depths of the underground cells.

  “Agreed.” Haakon surged ahead of him, a set of manacles wrapped around his fist as a weapon.

  “I mean…, you have to be wearing the tightest pair of trousers you own.”

  “I gave my bigger pair to Sirius. And I thought we weren’t speaking of this?”

  Tormund spat on the floor. “When we return to Iceland, I am done with this. I am done with you! Why am I always the one who ends up neck deep in horseshit?”

  Behind him, Marduk was trying to suppress a laugh. “That was almost worth the cost of being locked away by my nemesis.”

  “Be quiet,” both Haakon and Tormund snapped, before sharing a glance.

  “Rescue a dreki prince,” Tormund muttered, “what could possibly go wrong?”

  “Don’t whine at me,” Haakon shot back. “I did warn you not to set your hopes upon her. There was always a little something about her story that didn’t add up.”

  “Oh, don’t bring her into this.” He still couldn’t say her name. “This has nothing to do with that lying, betraying redhead and everything to do with the fact that you always lead me into trouble.”

  “Lead you?”

  “At the risk of interrupting this lovely little familial discussion,” Marduk interceded, “I would like to point out that light appears to be coming from the tunnel to the left, and the air smells like pines. I think this is the way out. Also, perhaps we could all be quiet while we escape.”

  Fucking dreki princes.

  Fucking reckless cousins.

  And worst of all were lying, manipulative wretches with big green eyes, flaming red hair and the kind of body that would haunt his dreams forever.

  Tormund headed to the left, drawing his axe. “Let them catch us,” he growled. “I feel like swinging this fucking thing until there’s nothing left in front of me.”

  “Let him lead,” he heard Haakon mutter under his breath. “He just needs to do something physical or hit someone.”

  “If we encounter a guard, let me handle them,” Marduk said. “These are the finest of Solveig’s personal guard and will most likely be beyond your abilities to manage.”

  “Trust me,” Haakon drawled. “You underestimate the pair of us.”

  Tormund ignored the words.

  Striding down narrow passages, he headed toward the light. Up. They needed to go up. He found a set of stairs and hammered up them. Behind him, the sound of a horn echoed through the tunnels.

  “This way!” someone yelled.

  Tormund swore under his breath. “They know we’ve escaped.”

  “Run!” Haakon snapped, shoving him in the back.

  Tormund sprinted up the stairs. His lungs ached and his thighs burned, but there was also something exhilarating about forcing his body to the edge. Anger fueled him so thoroughly that he was almost to the top of the stairs before he felt the urge to complain.

  There was a dreki guard standing at the top of the stairs. “What are you—?”

  Tormund didn’t hesitate.

  He headbutted the bastard in the gut, and then drove his fist up into the dreki’s chin as the fellow curled over the first blow. Ramming forward, he slammed the guard into the wall and hit him again.

  Several more times.

  The dreki guard crumpled in a clash of steel, looking slightly dazed. Marduk shook his head, pressing a hand to the dreki’s helmet. The guard’s eyes glowed gold, and then his eyelids closed and his head slumped back as Marduk lowered him to the ground.

  “I wasn’t planning on confronting them,” Marduk growled. “Half the world probably heard that.”

  “Good.” Tormund straightened. “Let them come. Let them all come.”

  There was another guard at the exit of the cavern, but Marduk surged ahead and somehow the guard crumpled.

  “I’ve never seen a dreki do that,” Haakon said as Marduk dragged the guard out of the doorway and stuffed him behind a rock.

  “It’s an old trick I learned down in the plains of Africa.”

  “You could have used it on Solveig.”

  Heat flashed in Marduk’s eyes. “I doubt it would have worked. And Solveig is a war marshal, not a regular dreki guard. If she’d sensed me using my magic, then she would have been free to retaliate with her own. They don’t call her the Storm with Teeth for no reason.”

  “This way,” Tormund said, heading down a tiny goat track that led down the mountain.

  They ran down the hillside, trying to keep their feet in the light layer of snow. His heart raced. At every tree, he could have sworn he saw movement flashing out of the corner of his eye.

  But it wasn’t until the track suddenly vanished at the edge of a cliff face that he realized they’d been tricked.

  Tormund skidded to a halt. “Shit.” He stared down as the ground dropped out from under him.
/>
  Marduk eased to a halt at his side, the wind rifling his golden hair.

  “Go,” Haakon told him curtly. “Fly home and get your brother.”

  But Marduk sighed and turned back toward the forest. “We’re not alone. And dreki do not leave debts behind them.”

  A pair of warriors slipped from the shadows of the nearest tree. A branch moved to the right. And then a fourth dreki guard materialized to the left.

  Trapped.

  With their backs against the wall. Tormund weighed the odds.

  “Going somewhere?” called the tallest blonde, dressed in enough fur and pierced with enough gold that she clearly had to be mimicking her leader. Someone had smeared kohl across her eyes.

  “You’re not even half as scary as your blackhearted warlord,” Tormund told her, because he was still too furious to bite his tongue. “Solveig looks like she could spit fire and fart lightning. You just look like you’ve been playing in her jewelry case.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Seize them.”

  Tormund grinned, tossing his axe from hand to hand as he settled into a fighting stance. “I’ll warn you…, I really want to fight right now. This may not play out as easily as it did back at our camp, when you had the advantage of numbers.”

  Marduk caught his arm. “Lower your axe, friend Tormund. This doesn’t have to end in bloodshed.”

  But I want it to end in bloodshed….

  Marduk shook his head tightly. “They’re stalling us, you fool. They can communicate psychically, which means that right now, another half dozen dreki are no doubt wheeling through the skies toward us.”

  Fuck. He wanted to throw the axe. “So we’re done?”

  “We’re not done,” whispered a voice in his mind. Marduk’s voice. The prince stared very intently at him. “They don’t want you. They only want me. If I surrender, then you’ll have a chance to escape.”

  And leave you here?

  Unlikely.

  The enormous prince caught his gaze, his hazel eyes blazing with gold fire. “There are too many of them. Get to King Harald. Tell him where I am and what has transpired here. He’s the only one who can counteract Solveig’s plans. I’ll distract them.”