Hand of the God

by Sonya Bateman

  Well, if he put it that way … I could hardly wait.

  Chapter 22

  Soon enough, Holdrun led us through the tunnel wall — or at least that’s what it looked like. It was another magic-dug tunnel leading straight out from the right-side wall of the mine shaft, but you couldn’t see the entrance unless you were directly in front and really looking for it. From there it was a short crawl to a rope ladder, leading to a hatch above.

  He’d only made this tunnel tall enough for a dwarf.

  The hatch opened into what I assumed was Holdrun’s forge, judging from the anvil and tools and the massive fire pit heaped with glowing coals in the center of the space. There were barrels and crates and chests, piles of metal bars and scraps, iron pots of all sizes, and a living area tucked into a corner with a bed, table and chair, and a small set of shelves filled with old books, figurines, and rolled parchments. A net made of coarse rope with sticks and leaves woven into it hung from the ceiling, partially obscuring the bedroom area. Three of the walls were stone, and the fourth was metal with a massive door set into it.

  “Just need to gather a few things before we head out to find that sword,” Holdrun said when he’d closed the hatch after everyone climbed up. “Don’t ye lot touch anything, now.”

  As the dwarf headed across the room, humming tunelessly again, we ambled further in and looked around. I caught Taeral watching Holdrun with narrowed eyes and hung back to stand next to him. “You okay?” I said quietly.

  “Fine.” His gaze didn’t leave the dwarf, who was now whistling as he rummaged through a crate, pulled out a variety of short knives and stuck them in his belt. “I am simply curious as to why Milus Dei would afford a prisoner such comfortable accommodations, and apparently fail to notice that the prisoner can leave and return to his cell at will.” He sent a meaningful glance at the hatch we’d come through, which wasn’t hidden in any way.

  “Yeah, good points.” I watched as Holdrun walked to the far wall, shoved a few barrels aside, and grabbed a long-handled bronze sledgehammer carved with not-exactly-Fae runes. It looked like a hell of a weapon.

  Taeral’s jaw clenched. “We may need to subdue him,” he said. “Though I’m not certain we can, should he choose to turn against us. He’s too much power.”

  A shiver of unease moved through me. Taeral was right — if I focused on it, I could feel that immense magic we’d sensed in the tunnel even stronger in here. “Maybe you should go open that hatch back up,” I murmured. “If something goes wrong, we’ll just have to run. We’ll find another way in.”

  Taeral nodded and moved toward the hatch.

  I started for Calla and Sadie, who’d edged up to the central fire pit. Rex and Chester were off to the right, hovering around a suspiciously treasure-shaped box. Just as I reached the ladies, Holdrun turned and swung the bronze hammer up to his shoulder. His gaze skipped from me to Taeral — who was trying to tug the hatch open, but nothing was happening. “Oh, did I forget to tell ye, Unseelie?” he said casually. “Ye’ll not be able to open that. I’ve warded it.”

  Taeral froze for an instant, and then straightened slowly with anger flashing in his eyes. “And why might you have done that, dwarf?”

  “I could tell ye, but where’s the fun in that?” He grinned and strolled toward the big metal door. “Just one more bit of a thing to handle, and then we’re off. Glorious battle awaits.”

  “What’s going on?” Calla whispered, backing away from the fire pit toward me.

  I shook my head and nudged Sadie. When they were both looking at me, I pointed toward Taeral and jerked my head in his direction, trying to tell them to get over there. Warded or not, I had a feeling we’d need to get that hatch open and go back down it. Soon.

  Rex noticed what was happening, grabbed Chester’s sleeve and nodded at the dwarf, just as Holdrun reached the door and pushed some kind of button beneath the handle.

  Immediately, a muffled alarm started blaring somewhere outside the room.

  “Go!” I practically shoved Sadie into Calla, and then ran toward Chester and Rex. They’d both pulled their guns when the alarm went off. Now they started firing at Holdrun.

  The bullets bounced off him and pinged around the room.

  “Humans,” the dwarf grumbled, no longer smiling as he started in their direction. “Don’t ye worry, though. There will be no months of torture when they come for ye this time. Ye’ll just die.” He pointed at me with his free hand as he swung the heavy hammer back with the other. “Except for that one, of course.”

  “Céa biahn!” I shouted, gesturing sharply at him. An unseen wind whipped his hair and beard around, when he should’ve gone flying across the room.

  But he didn’t move.

  “Feel free to try again, halfling. That magic won’t work on me, but ye’re welcome to exhaust yourself.” Holdrun snorted smoke from his nostrils, brushed himself off and started forward.

  More gunfire erupted from Rex and Chester. This time one of the ricochets grazed my cheek and damn near took my ear off.

  “We need to run,” I half-shouted, yanking Chester back as I turned him toward the rest of the group. Taeral was still struggling with the hatch, but it looked like he was getting somewhere. When Chester finally got the point and started moving, I manhandled Rex after him.

  “Where d’ye think you’re going, children?” Holdrun grated from close behind me.

  I saw Taeral grab the lodestone, watched a translucent purple glove form around his hand. He reached for the hatch again and yanked the handle hard.

  This time it opened.

  Then something slammed between my shoulder blades, and I hit the ground face-first.

  “Gideon!” a female voice cried. My ears were ringing so much, I couldn’t tell if it was Calla or Sadie. But then I heard gunfire and a snarling wolf cry at the same time — so maybe it was both of them.

  I couldn’t let them fight Holdrun. He said everyone was going to die except me, and I had a sinking suspicion he could definitely kill all of us if he felt like it.

  “Get out of here!” I shouted as loud as I could, shoving myself off the ground. Pain surged through me with the movement, and I saw Sadie’s wolf loping toward me with Calla at her heels, still firing at the dwarf behind me.

  A gout of molten flame shot past me, headed straight for Sadie.

  I thrust an arm out. “À dionadth,” I called, and a transparent shield surged into existence a few feet in front of Sadie. She crashed into it from her side with a startled yelp. At nearly the same time, Holdrun’s fire splashed our side and drizzled down the shield like burning tears.

  Calla slowed and bent to help Sadie. Her eyes met mine.

  “Go,” I said. “They aren’t going to kill me. You’ll find another way.”

  “We’re not leaving you,” Sadie half-growled. She was starting to change back, but she hadn’t quite achieved human form.

  Calla jerked back, pulling Sadie with her. “Gideon, look out!”

  I didn’t bother glancing back. I dropped to the floor, and the hammer swung through the space I’d just occupied, smashing the shield with a sound like a thunderclap.

  As I rolled and jumped up again, Holdrun’s sledge caught me square in the chest. I heard ribs crack as the blow sent me hurling through the air — and straight into the netting that hung in front of the bedroom area. The net ripped free of whatever was holding it and wrapped around me as I crashed to the floor.

  The strength drained out of me, leaving me gasping and nauseous. I struggled to roll over and realized that my skin had gone corpse-blue, my nails had lengthened to ragged points. I’d lost my glamour.

  Whatever this net was, it had cancelled my magic.

  Suddenly, Holdrun loomed over me. “Aye, I’ve made many toys for the humans, but I save the best for myself,” he said. “Fight all ye want, DeathSpeaker. That’s a rowan snare, and ye’ll not escape it.”

  I noticed he’d gotten the name right this time.

  “I gue
ss you’re not actually interested in the lodestone, then,” I said through clenched teeth as I wiggled an arm toward my boot, and the knife I kept there. I’d have to pray the rest of them had gotten out. “Taeral only promised to give it to you if you helped us.”

  “That he did. But there’s nothing to stop me from taking it off his corpse, is there?” The dwarf knelt and grabbed the wrist headed for the knife. “As for ye, they’ve got other plans.”

  I swallowed. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because I’m tired, halfling. So very tired of everything.” He drew back an arm. “I can promise ye this, though. Yer friends won’t suffer … much.”

  With that, he drove a fist that felt like a hot stone into my jaw, and I knew nothing.

  Chapter 23

  Wherever they set up shop, Milus Dei apparently didn’t change the design of their labs much. Lots of chrome and glass, sinks and autopsy tables. I could’ve been in their New York or Pennsylvania facilities. Except for the dwarf in front of me, holding a knife.

  I was standing in nothing but my boxers, pressed against a metal sheet stuck upright in the middle of the room. It had to be cold iron, judging from the way it burned. Couldn’t move my legs, my torso, or my outstretched left arm — it felt like I was strapped in place, but there were no visible restraints — and Holdrun was currently stretching my right arm out and against the metal while he carved unfamiliar runes like the ones on his hammer into my skin. More of the bloody symbols marched in straight lines down my chest, across my legs and left arm. And each time he finished one, the symbol lit with a faint red glow and tightened an invisible wire of magic around me.

  The dwarf had to use a stepstool to reach my arm. I decided it probably wouldn’t be prudent to laugh.

  “So,” I said, struggling not to wince as he started slicing again. “All that stuff about refusing to make copies of Fragarach and helping us destroy it, that was a bluff. A big load of bullshit.”

  Holdrun paused to glare at me with burning red eyes, and then went back to cutting. “I don’t feel the need to explain myself, especially to the likes of ye,” he said. “I’ll not recreate the sword. That part’s true. But turn ye over to Dante? Aye, that I’ll do.”

  I tried to hold back a shudder. The idea that Holdrun was on a first-name basis with this bastard did not bode well for me. “Why?” I managed in a tone that was close to normal.

  “Again. I’ve no need to explain.” He glanced at me and shrugged. “But ye seem calm for a halfling bairn who’s bound for endless torment, so I’ll tell ye. Dante’s sworn to end my life in exchange for delivering the DeathSpeaker. Which is yerself.” He frowned slightly. “If ye lied to me about that title, now’s the time to come clean so ye can die quick.”

  “Unfortunately, I’m still the DeathSpeaker,” I sighed. A sharp hiss escaped me as he finished another rune and a new unseen band tightened around my arm. “And if all you want is to die, I’d be more than happy to kill you,” I added with a growl.

  “Ye can’t. Even if ye were strong enough, I’m protected from Fae magic.” He tapped at his chest, and for the first time I noticed the dark blue runes tattooed on his red-brown skin. A line of them started at the hollow of his throat and disappeared beneath his shirt.

  Well, at least that explained why my spells did nothing to him. “Is there any particular reason you want to die?” I said.

  Holdrun sighed, lowered his slicing arm and stared at the floor, still maintaining his boulder-like grip on my wrist. “Ten thousand years I’ve lived,” he said in a husky voice. “Seen all there is in all the realms, watched my people wither and die. Now I’m all that’s left, and this world … it’s cold and drab, cruel and petty. A reflection of the humans who’ve conquered it all and beat magic into submission. And what they’ve destroyed should fall to them. Let them revel alone in their filth and brutality, says I — which is just what Dante wants.” His jaw firmed, and he lifted his head. “If I were ye, I’d beg to join me in death. There’s nothing left here.”

  There was a lot I could’ve said to that. But what I settled on was, “Is that supposed to make me feel sorry for you? Because I still want to kill you.”

  “Aye, I’m sure ye do,” he said. “But as I’ve mentioned, ye can’t. Ye don’t have the power. Dante does.”

  He was probably right. But that wouldn’t have stopped me from trying, if I could move.

  “If you’re so damned miserable with being alive, why don’t you just kill yourself?” I said as I attempted to brace for more flesh-carving. “I mean, unless you can’t physically take your own life like the Fae.”

  “Dwarves are nothing like the bloody Folk,” he spat. “If ye weren’t but a splash of piss in the sewers of eternity, ye’d know that. And if I took my life by my own hand, I’d not be granted entrance to the Halls of Valhalla and reunited with my people.”

  I decided that I didn’t have much left to lose, so I’d try a bluff of my own. “There’s no such thing as the Halls of Valhalla, you know,” I said. “When you die, there’s nothing waiting for you.”

  “Lying Fae.” He slammed my wrist against the cold iron. “Keep yer filthy mouth closed, or I’ll shut it for ye.”

  “I’m serious. You’re never going to see your people again, even if you don’t kill yourself,” I said. “There’s nothing on the other side. You’ll be alone, forever.”

  “Be silent!” he roared. And rammed his horned head into my exposed stomach.

  I couldn’t even curl up with the blow, and I damn near pissed myself.

  “What does a speck of a Fae half-breed know of the afterlife?” Holdrun said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself. “Nothing. That’s what.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not just Fae,” I gasped. “I’m the DeathSpeaker. Remember? I know all about death, and there is no Valhalla. No happy reunion. No —”

  I broke off with a muffled snarl as he plunged the short blade into my side.

  “We’ll have no more of that talk, boy-child.” He twisted the knife, and I screamed. “Hear me?”

  I managed to nod. At least I could still move my head.

  “Right, then.” He yanked the blade free with an upward thrust and went back to carving me up.

  Oh, yeah. I’d definitely gotten through to him.

  With the fresh hole in my side and the cold iron still burning me, on top of everything else, I grayed out. Must not’ve been for long, because Holdrun was just starting to slice a rune into my palm when the world swam back into focus.

  That was when I heard a door open.

  I stiffened, expecting to see the Egyptian from my dream. Instead it was a white man who looked nothing like Yusef or Dante. He was blond, pale and sunburned, dressed in black linen and gleaming wingtip boots, with two guns holstered in a belt around his waist. All that was missing was a black ten-gallon hat, and he could’ve been an evil, fashion-conscious cowboy.

  “Cavanaugh,” Holdrun muttered, hardly looking at the man. “Nearly finished.”

  “Good, because Mr. Black and I have a lot to talk about.” The man called Cavanaugh — like Vivian, the medical examiner back home, though I doubted they were related — closed the door and walked toward me, scrutinizing me with wide-set brown eyes. “Where are his clothes, and whatever else he had on him?”

  Holdrun pointed off to the side with the knife. I followed the gesture and saw an open file box on a counter against the far wall, with one sleeve of my shirt dangling over the side. He’d probably gotten rid of my weapons, but I’d have to hope the moonstone was in that box somewhere, for when I got out of this.

  If I got out of this. I was starting to resign myself to the possibility of joining Milus Dei, after all — and I would join if I had to, as long as it meant my brother and my friends were safe. And my … whatever Calla was.

  “That’s fine. I’ll go through them later,” Cavanaugh said, stopping about ten feet back. His gaze hadn’t left mine, and there was something hungry in his eyes. Like he’d been
waiting a long time for this moment.

  I had a sinking feeling this guy was a lot more prepared to detain and torture me than any of the other Milus Dei agents had been.

  “Where is Dante?” Holdrun said, finally turning his head to look at the cowboy when he finished cutting my palm, and the symbol tacked my hand to the metal. “We’re supposed to conclude our business when I’m through binding this one.”

  Cavanaugh flashed a sneer. “If you mean Yusef, he’s busy. Upstairs doing really important things, no doubt,” he said. “You’ll have to wait. I’m sure you’ll be summoned when he gets around to it. Probably.”

  “Busy?” Holdrun echoed. His stone-like fingers tightened on my wrist hard enough to make me wince. “I won’t stand for being treated like one of ye lot, magister. I’ve done what was asked of me, brought in the DeathSpeaker — a feat none of you humans have proven capable of, despite being charged with the task. And I will have my payment. Now.”

  “You’ll get it when, and if, he decides to give it to you. Just like the rest of us humans,” the man in black drawled. “Now, are you finished with that half-human filth? Mr. Black has a very full schedule today, and for the rest of whatever remains of his life.”

  There went that sinking feeling again.

  For a long moment Holdrun didn’t move. At last he said, “Nearly,” and looked directly at me.

  I was tempted to ask what are you going to do now, carve my forehead? There wasn’t much left to mark up. But I watched as he raised the knife to my palm, and then slashed a shallow cut through the rune he’d carved there.

  The glow from the symbol fizzled out and the magic strapping my hand down vanished, leaving me able to move it.

  I held it in place against the cold iron, as if it was still restrained, and stared at the dwarf. He’d just showed me a way to get out of this — though I had no idea how I’d actually take advantage of this knowledge. Even if I had a knife in my one free hand, I wouldn’t be able to reach any of the other runes to cut them.