by Mark Hayden
‘We can, but not on this scale. Half a league along, there’s a boat lift.’
I was suddenly very grateful for the ruby on Vicky’s head. If she were awake during the transit of an underground boat lift on her own, she’d have a breakdown. The Dwarf turned and headed back to the main Hall.
24 — Another one Slams in your Face
In the time it had taken Niði to fetch the furs, he’d also stoked up one of the forges. He went straight over to it, and I checked in with Lloyd.
‘He’s going to give me the glass fix,’ said the Gnome.
‘Sorry?’
‘For certain fractures, we can take a glass replacement or repair. Only Dwarves can do it, though, and he’s making it a freebie.’
‘That sounds … painful. Can he do anything for your severed arm? Do you want me to retrieve it?’
‘Thanks, but no thanks. It’s tainted, I’m afraid. I’ll get a prosthetic of some sort eventually.’
The Dwarf lined up some surgical instruments and said, ‘It has been so many years since we had visitors. There is ale to drink, but not yet. The sooner I do this, the better.’
Without waiting to see if I watched or turned away, he went to fetch a small crucible, glowing red hot. He carried it at arm’s length in a pair of tongs towards us and placed it on the floor. He placed his left hand on Lloyd’s shin and picked up a scalpel. He made an incision into the top of Lloyd’s foot, and the Gnome bucked with the pain. Or most of him did. The leg under Niði’s hand didn’t move a millimetre.
I hated myself for watching, but having had several major operations on my own leg, I was fascinated. My titanium tibia itched in sympathy with Lloyd.
The Dwarf dipped a spatula in the crucible and lifted a blob of glowing glass. Surely, he wasn’t going to …
He was. With a deft flick, he pasted some of the sluggish liquid into Lloyd’s ankle and smoothed it with a piece of leather. He dropped the leather and placed his other hand on the wound. He grunted with effort, and the temperature in the cavern rose several degrees as the Dwarf gave off a huge amount of Lux. Some of his beard actually fell out in front of my eyes, and my ears were battered when Lloyd screamed. At that point, I looked away.
‘’Tis done,’ said Niði. ‘I’ll fetch some ale.’
I went over to Lloyd, not sure if I could do anything other than be shouted at. Don’t underestimate the importance of being a lightning rod when someone is in pain. It can make a huge difference.
‘Was that as bad as it looked?’ I said.
‘Probably worse, but it’s over. Help me up and we’ll see how good he is.’
‘Are you sure?’
He held up his hand, and I hauled him upright. With way more confidence than I’d have felt, he put his foot on the floor, pressed down, and sat back. ‘My boot’s over there. Would you? This floor’s hot.’
I shook my head and handed him his boot.
One of the chambers off the main Hall was full of more pelts, skins, animal rugs and furs. Niði told us to help ourselves and pointed to a stone table with stone benches. Lloyd and I grabbed a couple of sheepskins and made ourselves comfortable.
The Dwarf fussed about, putting three tankards on the bench and wheeling over an empty barrel. A wooden barrel. I wonder where he got the wood. While he went looking for something else, I admired the tankard. It was pewter on the outside, but lined with a thin layer of glass. Lead poisoning is never a good idea. The pewter was engraved with a swirling, organic pattern that turned silver in certain lights, and then I realised that the silver was moving around the design, like mercury in a children’s maze puzzle (in the days before mercury poisoning had been discovered).
It was beautiful and captivating. When I looked up, Niði was filling the barrel from a new plastic hosepipe. He’d definitely branched out. When the barrel was half full, he wandered off.
‘Desirée was telling me about your well,’ said Lloyd, ‘while we waited for the cavalry. She said she likes the Inkwell Bitter, but won’t admit it. This should be a treat for you.’
‘It looks a bit weak.’
‘It’s water. Dwarven Ale is made to order. When it’s your turn, say, “May your fires never dim.” Here he comes.’
Niði carried not a red-hot poker, but white hot poker. Instead of plunging the end into the barrel, he dropped the whole thing into the water. Steam roiled and blew into the chamber, and I caught a whiff. Eurgh.
The Dwarf collected the tankards and dipped them into the barrel. Liquid was running down the sides when he thumped them on the table. ‘Drink,’ he commanded, raising his tankard.
We picked up ours and slammed them all together. ‘Hearth and Home,’ said Niði. We repeated the toast and all drank deeply.
That was good ale. That was very good ale. I could drink a lot of that – it cut through the taste of blood and pain from the encounter with the creatures above and had a kick to follow. I’d still rather be drinking Inkwell Bitter, though.
Lloyd raised his tankard. ‘To the earth, our mother.’ Now I got it. We drank.
‘May your fires never dim,’ I said.
When we’d taken a third drink, I forced myself to put the tankard down. Breakfast was a dim and forgotten affair, and I might have to drive soon. I opened my rucksack and slid out the smelly package that had upset Vicky in the car. Have you ever tried to buy gallium sulphide? I had to use my police warrant card in the end. It’s easier to buy guns in this country.
‘A gift,’ I said, sliding over the package.
The Dwarf’s eyes lit up. ‘It’s been many years. Many, many years. Thank you. I shall savour this later.’
You’ve no idea what a relief that was.
Niði turned his attention to me. ‘You are the key. What are you doing here? You had no fire in your veins when you were born.’
‘He means you had no magickal Gift,’ said Lloyd.
‘The Allfather had his eye on me,’ I said. ‘Whether he knew about the Codex or not is a question he’s not answering, but here I am, and I think you know why. Thomas Clarke told me that he last saw the Codex Defanatus under your arm, four hundred years ago.’
The Dwarf finished his drink and pushed the tankard aside. ‘And it should still be here.’ He rubbed the patch on his face where the beard had fallen out. There was already a healthy stubble there. ‘It would still be here if I had not been robbed and tricked. Robbed and tricked.’ He fixed me with his nearly black eyes. ‘You want it, don’t you? And not for yourself.’
I laid the Hammer on the table, with my Badge of Office showing. ‘That book has left a trail of blood. It will soon become a river.’
Niði said something in North Germanic that sounded like a question. Lloyd rubbed his chin and replied, ‘That would be 1689 CE in the human calendar.’
‘More ale?’ said Niði. I shook my head. He took a small jewellery box out of his apron. It was made of some sort of lacquer, and I was starting to recognise Niði’s style. He’d made that box. He put it, still closed, on the table.
‘I was owed a debt,’ he said after more beard rubbing. ‘The Count of Fae whose sídhe had a door on your land. He owed me a great debt, and I took the book in payment. I didn’t think it would take so long for that woman’s curse to be lifted.’
‘The Morrigan?’ I asked. Niði agreed. Dwarfs live a long time. He could afford to wait for the Codex to be unlocked.
‘In 1689, I was approached by a human Mage. I could tell that he was using a cloak to hide his true shape. Of course I could.’
‘He means a Glamour,’ said Lloyd.
‘Please don’t tell me that I have to learn a whole new set of jargon. I still can’t cope with Quantum Magick vs Circle Magick.’
‘I’ll translate.’
Niði gave us the eye. ‘I kick myself for a fool now, but I should have torn his cloak aside when I had the chance. And then I saw what he brought. Is there ever a bigger fool than a Dwarf who sees a bigger seam in the next gallery?’
I h
ad a stab at that one. ‘Let me guess: the grass isn’t always greener on the other side of the fence.’
Lloyd raised his tankard. ‘In one.’
Niði was having trouble telling this story. We were all trying to avoid the word greedy. It rhymes with Dwarf in the same way that human rhymes with mortal. It’s just what they are.
He put his hand on the box. His fingers were so big that I couldn’t see it any more. ‘You have to understand that it came in a flask. A glass flask filled with our Mother’s tears.’ Before Lloyd could jump in, Niði said, ‘Only we Dwarves have the secret of Alchemical Gold, but some of the other races can make the Earth, our Mother, weep tears of Lux. They do not last long, but they can carry much.’
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘This was a bottle of liquid Lux. Pure magick? Can humans do that?’
‘Not a bottle. A gallon flask.’
Lloyd drew breath. ‘A gallon?’
‘Yes. And in the centre was a Rockseed. Don’t ask now. The Gnome will tell you.’
‘It’s a delicate subject,’ said Lloyd.
‘I was robbed,’ said Niði. ‘The Rockseed was a fake. The flask had been enchanted, but in my haste, I didn’t think. I didn’t think that the container might be a cloak in itself. I traded the Codex for the flask, and the Mage was gone. Before you ask, the Mage could have been male or female, Fae or Dæmon. Only the Mother’s tears were real. I hoarded them until I could use them, and I used them to re-forge the Allfather. I have nothing more to say than that this was what the trickster left behind.’
He opened his hand and opened the box. Inside was a huge diamond, as big as the Great Star of Africa in the British crown jewels, but shaped like a lozenge not a teardrop. It glinted as the dim light refracted through its myriad facets. He slid the box over to me. ‘Take it, as a gift to you in thanks for killing the Svartálf. You will find the trickster’s mark on it somewhere, I’m sure. That is who has your book.’
He snapped the lid closed and sat back. Lloyd made a sign for me to take it off the table, and I quickly stuffed it in a pocket. My poor brain couldn’t process this. There was too much to think about, and I had a lot of questions to ask. Niði, however, had folded his arms. I wasn’t going to get any joy there. Not only that, I was shattered. ‘Time to go, Lloyd. I just need a quick word with our host. In private.’
He nodded and drained his tankard. ‘Thank you, master. I cannot speak for the Watch Captain, but Clan Flint will keep your secrets, and we will not broadcast it around that you are free again. Until you wish it.’
The Dwarf and Gnome shook hands. Lloyd nodded to me and walked out of the chamber towards the main Hall and the exit.
When he was gone, I took out one of my enhanced 9mm rounds and put it in front of Niði. He picked it up, sniffed it and examined it with a jeweller’s loupe. ‘Hledjolf,’ he said, putting the round down. ‘I might have known that he would be the first to make such a thing.’
‘What will it work on?’
‘Don’t presume on my generosity, mortal. I would normally charge a fee to answer such a question.’
Without the Gnome at the table, Niði was suddenly less … human, I suppose. The whites in his eyes had disappeared completely, for one thing.
‘But this isn’t normal, is it, master?’
‘Your weapon will work on any human. On a Gnome, it will work if you get it within an inch of the spinal cord or brainstem. On Spirits, a direct hit on the Imprint will work. On anything else, it might or it might not. It certainly won’t work on a Dwarf.’
I put the round back in front of him. ‘No magick, just an engraving. Can you engrave one word on it. In whatever script you use for North Germanic.’
He took out a stylus. How much stuff did he have in that apron? ‘What word?’
I told him, and it took him less than two seconds. I put the round in my rather bulging pockets and stood up.
‘Were you truly trapped down here, master, or were you just keeping your head down, as we say?’
‘Let me show you something on the way out. It won’t take long, and you’ll be the first mortal to see this since I first came to Albion.’
He led me away from the main Hall, deeper into the rock. We took a side tunnel, and it was almost pitch black. The tunnel twisted, and the Dwarf had to touch a rod on the wall to bring more light. At the end of the tunnel was a bare rock face. In the rock was a relief sculpture. A sculpture of Niði. Only it wasn’t a sculpture. It was another Niði, emerging alive from the rock. I couldn’t see that, but I could feel it.
There are lots of Hledjolfs in Hledjolf’s Hall. I did wonder why there was only one Niði. Soon, there would be two.
‘Did you like my Labyrinth, Theseus?’ he said.
‘I’ll pass on that name.’
‘As you wish. This one was better than the one in Knossos, though I do say so myself.’
‘You…?’
‘Yes. I was the Dwarf on Crete. I was imprisoned by Minos and rescued by Theseus. When we returned to the mainland, Odin Allfather was waiting for me, with an offer. I took it and left the sunlands behind for winter’s night.’ He looked up at me. ‘In your language, I left the Mediterranean and headed to Scandinavia, and that’s why I re-forged Odin when he fell. One debt for another. Those creatures in the Labyrinth that you killed, they drained so much Lux from the Hall to keep themselves alive that I could barely lift a hammer or swing a pick, so yes, I was trapped. Now that they are gone, I will grow again.’
He flicked off the light and we returned to the main Hall. Lloyd had already hoisted his axe onto his back.
‘If you would not have the name Theseus, what should I call you?’ said Niði.
I was about to say, Try Conrad, when Lloyd spoke.
‘He is a Dragonslayer.’
Niði’s busy eyebrows clenched. ‘Then farewell, Dragonslayer. You have shared my table and you are always welcome in my Halls.’
I shook hands. I once shook the hand of Britain’s Strongest Man (he’d just won the title), and the Dwarf was ten times stronger. At least ten times.
25 — Diamonds are not Forever
We didn’t speak until we’d left the lower level and returned to the scene of battle. The hind quarters of the Hell-horse were starting to sink into the floor and the body of the late chief had already disappeared. If only the floors in Elvenham House absorbed rubbish quite so neatly, that would save me a fortune on cleaners. Then again, if I got to keep that diamond…
I stopped walking. This seemed a good place to have a difficult conversation.
‘That boon you wanted, Lloyd.’
‘Yes. I was…’
I tossed him the round I’d shown to the Dwarf. He caught it easily in his one hand. ‘This is no use to me without your gun,’ he said.
‘Have a close look.’
He peered at the casing until he caught sight of the engraving. ‘What does this mean?’
‘You’ve heard the saying that there’s no dodging a bullet with your name on it. That’s the bullet with your name on it. Literally. And you’ve just dodged it. That’s your gift from me.’
He was furious. ‘That is no boon. I saved your life. All of you.’
‘And for that, I have spared yours. You knew exactly what the Labyrinth was. You led us in there so that we’d be trapped. If you’d told us what it was, you knew I’d retreat and get help to deal with the Svartálf and the Hell-horse, and that you’d be cut out. You used us. You put is in peril for your own ends. You risked my team, and for that I should kill you.’
He stared at the round of ammunition. ‘You are more Odin’s son than you admit.’
‘I am Alfred and Mary Clarke’s son, and I need no more than that. Nor am I one to bear a grudge. You did a good job down there with the Codex. Either you had no idea what I was talking about or you managed to worm it out of Desirée.’
He grinned. ‘Poor kid. She was half out of it on opiates. I told her we had to keep talking to stop her falling asleep. Then I waved my
stump around and told her that she could at least tell me what I’d lost an arm for. She didn’t tell me everything. I’ve no idea what your personal connection to the damned thing is, but I know what it is and some of the grief it’s caused. And you don’t have to tell me to keep my mouth shut about it. What happens in the Halls stays in the Halls.’
‘Good. Let’s go and you can tell me what a Rockseed is.’
‘Don’t you want your prize? The chief’s sword is yours.’
‘From my experience, taking the chief’s anything is likely to lead to reprisals. Surely that sword belongs to the clan.’
‘I may be young for a Gnome, but I am the Clan Second. Weapons are in my gift. If you took it, you would be a Swordbearer, the highest honour for a human. You’d have some clan rights, so it’s not to be sneezed at.’
‘And would I have any clan obligations, to go with those rights?’
By way of an answer, Lloyd bent down and picked up the sword by the hilt. He ran his eye over it for a second, then shoved the hilt under the stump of his left arm. He fingered the blade. ‘Do you know anything about swords?’
‘That’s either an early eighteenth century double-edged cavalry sword or a very good copy. The point of balance is a closer to the tip, to make it easy to use on horseback. Does it have magick?’
‘Oh yes. Most of it wouldn’t work for you, not being a Gnome, but the edge is ever true.’ He held it by the blade so that he could offer me the hilt. ‘Every clan has a First Mine. It’s where we keep our treasure and bury our dead. After I’ve had some answers from my uncle, I shall be going to the First Mine to re-dedicate the burial cairn now that I know my father is lying there, not the chief. If you became a Swordbearer, we could call on you to defend the First Mine.’
‘What if I had a warrant to search it, and you weren’t keen?’
‘Swordbearers have the right of access, so there wouldn’t be a conflict of interest.’
I was so tempted. Very tempted. Lloyd had deceived me before and put my team at risk. On the other hand, he’d done it for reasons I could understand. Gnomes drive a hard bargain, and you have to know what you’re letting yourself in for, but they’re not Dæmons. They don’t kill you with small print. I reached out and took the hilt. That grip could have been made for my hand.
