“We have reason to think the troops at the front gate are a diversion to buy the Dark One some time. We think he’s here to get Rune.”
“Rune,” Kallan whispered as Aaric rounded a sharp corner. “I can not take them both, Aaric!” She pulled on Aaric’s arm, bringing him to a sudden stop. “The Dark One and the king must not unite!”
As if we have the time to stop.
“I can’t take them together, Aaric. We’ll never defeat them.”
“Which is why we need Rune,” Aaric said. “We can use him to negotiate a trade with the Dark One.” Aaric watched her eyes widen even more with worry. “Get to the prisons,” he said. “Get Rune.”
She paused as if preparing to argue, but the air had changed. Aaric held up his hand, silencing her.
“We are not alone,” he whispered.
Kallan put a hand to her dagger and shifted her gaze to the corridor behind him. The Seidr was familiar, but nothing he could place.
“Go,” he said. When Kallan didn’t move, he took her by the arm and walked her back several paces. “Whatever is there will detain us,” Aaric said. “I will take care of the front until you get back.” He was certain she was picking up on the same Seidr, but she seemed unable to focus. He pulled her closer and dropped his voice. “We have no time. Circle back to the Hall and head down to the prisons.”
She met his eyes, clear at the moment and as if she had no memory of what just happened.
“To the prisons,” he pressed. “Get Rune.”
Slightly conflicted, but convinced, Kallan nodded and fled down the hall, leaving Aaric to breathe a little easier. He tightened his grip on his sword and turned toward the corridor. The air was thick. The Seidr was strong. She was there. Aaric shifted his position so his sword covered his head and the tip dropped slightly, guarding his face and torso.
He waited, sustaining the tension, and then he pivoted, bringing down his blade right onto Gudrun’s Seidr-shield.
“What in blazes—Woman!” Aaric dropped his sword.
“Don’t bark at me,” Gudrun said, extinguishing her Seidr shield. “You’re the one who’s got this place in an uproar!”
The tincture, he remembered. The Seidr from Under Earth was sure to alter Gudrun’s own Seidr until it wore off.
“For crying out loud, Aaric! Why is the entire army stationed at the front gate?”
The tincture he had slipped her earlier certainly had done little to sedate her ornery disposition.
“There’s been a siege,” Aaric said, never so relieved to see Gudrun. “The Dark One’s here.”
Gudrun straightened her spine and pressed her thin lips together.
“You would have known that had you not fallen asleep in your chambers,” he added and watched as she tried to recall the order of events.
Based on the scrunch of her face, he confirmed she had no memory of him paying her a brief visit and certainly no knowledge of the tincture she drank or of the effects it had on her own Seidr at the moment.
By Odinn. What did Fand give me?
“I don’t have time for this,” Aaric said and shoved his way past Gudrun, who stood puzzling over the events.
“I never…”
Aaric looked back, feigning boredom. “Hm? What’s that?”
“I…” She shook her head and rubbed her temples in duress.
A twinge of guilt pinched at Aaric’s chest.
Keep Kallan alive. Nothing else matters so long as Kallan lives through this night. Get Gudrun to the front with the guard, then get to the stables and meet up with Kallan…So long as Kallan lives…
In silence, Gudrun made her way to the courtyard and the front gate. Behind her, Aaric followed, cursing Fand, the tincture, and the evening that lay before him.
CHAPTER 28
Kallan ran down the corridor lit with torches. After descending the flight of stairs where the room widened, she slowed and approached the Great Hall. Standing just beyond the threshold, she peered around the stone doorframe.
The fire pits were cold, leaving the throne submerged in darkness. The tables laden with devoured carcasses, food remnants, and barrels and flasks of mead were empty. She could easily see where, only moments ago, most of her war-men had passed out at the table or onto the floor.
Quietly, Kallan slipped into the Hall, crossing the large room as she swept her gaze from the tables to the throne. Reaching the end of the room, she peered into the hall that would take her to the stables, the barracks, or the courtyard. Silence found her and she stopped on the threshold.
To reach the stables from the barracks, the Dark One would have to take this hall. Kallan swallowed a chill that tasted too much like fear. No matter the training—her Seidr, her spells—he managed to outfight her every time. Each of their battles ended with a close brush with death and an impasse that forced them both to bail. Tightening her grip on her dagger, Kallan forced her breath steady and left the shelter of the Great Hall, slipping into the corridor toward the barracks.
The abandoned barracks housed a constant chill that always swept in from the prisons below. The prisons had been the oldest and first mines dug ages before by the Dokkalfar. The first stones of Lorlenalin had been built from the slab pulled from the mountain. When the mines dried up, they were made into prisons. And the old counting room, the barracks.
The guard was dead. Slumped against the wall with his eyes wide open, blood stained the side of his mouth. Giving no thought to the armory, Kallan yanked open the heavy iron door, eager to secure her bartering stone.
The deafening clang of the door and the stale silence left an uneasy sickness that twisted her insides. She wasn’t alone. Kallan flicked her wrist, summoning a small ball of red flame that danced in her palm. With flame in one hand and dagger in the other, Kallan began the long descent into the black halls.
Pale orange flame from the dying torches lined the passages that snaked their way through the labyrinth. Moisture collected on the walls, and streaked the stone with minute streams of cold water. Without a guide, she forced her way through, finding her way into the impervious dark.
Adrenaline sharpened her senses as Kallan followed the path through the winding corridors. She turned a corner and descended a series of steps.
Her pace slowed, knowing they were there. She could feel it in her blood. The foreign, unmistakable scent of an earth that didn’t belong to Lorlenalin sent her heart pounding. Her foot peeked from beneath her hem as she grazed the stone with her heel. Ensuring complete silence, she made her way into the bowels of the city. The usual gusts of cold rolled up the steps, chilling her bare legs beneath the chemise. Resisting the urge to shiver, she tightened her grip on her dagger.
At the base of the steps, the hall forked to the left and right. If she took the right path, it would lead her into an open room where two additional corridors branched out. Only one would take her to Rune.
Her heart beat painfully as she neared the last step, her back pressed against the damp stone. She could wait here for them to find her and counter defensively, or avoid the delay and seize the offensive before they knew she was there.
Kallan slowed her breathing. Tension twisted her insides.
One breath. Two. She knew they were there. Three.
Kallan pivoted around the corner and fired the Seidr flame before taking aim. A sharp crack echoed the thud of a body striking the stone.
Five, she assessed.
One lay unconscious behind the four still standing. The Ljosalfr warrior on her right charged.
With a graceful sweep, Kallan slashed her Seidr flame across his face. His hand flew up, grasping a cut while stumbling back several paces. Balancing her weight evenly on her bare feet, Kallan fired her Seidr flame into a second warrior charging her left, but the first rebounded, undeterred by the cauterized laceration that stretched from the right side of his mouth to his left eye.
Kallan raised her dagger and met a sword. Elding stone screamed against iron as the blade snapped in two. S
he fired a blast to the right, then to the left, sending both warriors to the wall unconscious just as a great sword came down from the front.
The metal’s deafening scream followed a sudden silence and her body reverberated beneath the strength of her opponent. Behind him, her last opponent stood with an axe at the ready.
Sweat from her palm weakened her grip, requiring both hands on her handle. His great-sword stood strong against her elding dagger, drawing Kallan’s gaze through their locked blades. Kallan froze.
Between their hilts, the cool black eyes of the Dark One stared back at her, sending a chill down to her feet. His all-too-familiar scar glistened with sweat above his right brow. He smiled, stirring a sudden irritation she couldn’t explain.
“Your Majesty,” he purred. His voice was like honey.
Kallan stared at her own hateful grimace reflected in his eyes.
He knows.
With a roar, Kallan pushed her dagger against the berserker. He stumbled back, raising his blade again while, behind him, the Ljosalfr raised his axe for the fatal blow, but she was ready for them both.
Pouring her Seidr flame into the elding handle, Kallan pushed the fire through the blade as she swung her dagger. The last Ljosalfr was just out of range, but the fire reached where her blade could not as she swung one steady swing from right to left. The line of Seidr flame whipped through the air. Cursing aloud, above the roar of fire, the berserker and the last standing warrior threw themselves back into the corridor where they had emerged from moments ago.
Kallan’s fire growled like thunder as the orange and red flames rolled over the stone. Leaving the Dark One cowering behind her still burning wall of flame, Kallan fled down the corridor, without a look back, into the darkness to Rune’s cell.
Behind the wall, Bergen and his men cowered as the stone grew hotter, but neither moved, knowing the Seidkona’s skill. Sweat dripped into the berserker’s mouth as he waited for the flames to die, all the while counting down the seconds lost.
CHAPTER 29
Kallan’s bare feet slapped the stone. Behind her, the corridor burned. The paralyzing panic that had clouded her head with senseless worry changed to adrenaline. Finding the Dark One so soon assured her that she wasn’t too late.
The wall of Seidr flame guaranteed her more than enough time to get to Rune and meet up with Aaric in the stables.
The halls twisted as Kallan sprinted, panting as her pounding chest aligned with the rhythmic patter of her feet. After descending further into the darkness, she made a sharp corner and stopped in front of the oak cell door.
Kallan stared.
The hall was quiet here. So quiet she found it too easy to let her thoughts drift.
She thought of his smugness, his arrogance, his regal confidence on the other side of the door.
Kill him, she thought. He must die. He should die. But then what? The Dark One unleashes his rage on the city and countless more die in the process. Aaric was right. To kill this king would be to invite the Dark One’s wrath.
So she couldn’t kill him. Not yet. She remembered his calloused hands as he grabbed her, challenged her, and pushed her. She had found the change refreshing and she recalled the sweet scent on his neck.
Kallan shook her head, forcing the thoughts from her mind.
She couldn’t take the Dark One and the king together, but now she tasted the bitter truth of that lie. Truth was, she couldn’t take on the Dark One at all. He exceeded her skills and she knew it.
Kallan placed her palm on the handle.
If I kill this king, the Dark One will come. He will wage his war on my city and none can stop him. None can control him…except his king.
Kallan released the door’s handle.
No, I can’t kill him. But he can’t stay here either. The Dark One will find him. And if they unite…if they unite.
* * *
With a resounding blast, the oaken door burst into splinters. Stretched out on the stone floor amid the coals and glowing remnants of the door, wearing nothing but his trousers and signet ring, the King of Gunir rested comfortably, too comfortably. With his hands tucked lazily behind his head and his feet crossed at the ankles, he angled his neck to better see his guest.
Kallan’s chest heaved as she sent off bits of Seidr-light into the room and descended the steps where she stopped short. A grin stretched Rune’s face as he looked her over.
From the dainty bare toes peeking out from beneath her gown, he followed the folds of thin, white fabric. Her hair spilled over her shoulders and fell unceremoniously to her waist where she sported a dagger and her Seidkona’s pouch. The frown she gave him was all he needed to discern her mood. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but grin all the more at her disheveled state or goad the playful dragon he saw within.
“This is hardly the place for a bit of philandering,” Rune said, “but I’m willing to give it a go.”
He watched with delight as fire burned in her eyes. Her hand twitched and he could only assume she meant to scorch him.
As predictable a lass as any. Rune shook his head, letting his laughter roll over her. “You’re too easy to rile up, princess.”
“Don’t call me that,” she said and Rune caught the additional flare of annoyance in her tone.
Predictable.
Marching across the cell, she leaned down, unaware of the view she granted him as she snatched his wrist from behind his head and yanked him up. “Come on,” she said.
Rune let her pull him to his feet. “Alright, alright,” he said lazily.
She was in a hurry to wherever it was she was taking him, so he decided to do the most sensible thing. He took his time.
He stretched his arms to the ceiling. “Give me a minute. I need to wallow,” he said, not bothering to quell the half grin he formed as her eyes wandered over his chest. She blushed when she realized what she had done and, unnaturally, forced her eyes to his face.
Obtusely, he looked her over again until she crunched up her nose in disgust and he was pleased with himself. Again, her hand twitched as if to slap him.
That’s right, princess. Slap me. Let’s see just where your breaking point is.
“Wallow later,” she said and spun on her heel back to the steps. Rune didn’t move.
“Well?” she asked.
“Aren’t you going to shackle me, chain me?” His eyes flashed with amusement. “Tie me up?” Rune eyed the sway in Kallan’s step as she climbed the stairs back to the door. “Aren’t you worried I’ll stab you in the back?” he said.
Kallan assessed the corridor. “You can try,” she said.
Somewhat put off by her lack of participation in his game, Rune leisurely followed her up the steps where he could appreciate the generous view of her backside.
“I assume then that my transfer was not approved,” he said.
Kallan peered over her shoulder as if loaded to fire a series of assaults then blinked blankly at his chest only a few inches from her face. Rune watched as anger gave way to panic, to a familiar red glow on her neck, then sheer confusion. It was all he could do not to laugh.
A moment later, after she seemed to settle on anger, Kallan grabbed Rune’s wrist and pulled him into the hall.
“Come on,” she said. “And try to keep up.”
It was her turn to stab at his patience with her belittling tone as he bounded into the corridor after her.
* * *
Through a series of passages, twists, and turns, Kallan led Rune down a hall where the stones of Lorlenalin and light ended and earthen tunnels and darkness began. With the Dark One and the blazing corridor blocking her favored route, she had no choice but to steer Rune into the mines.
With a flick of her wrist, she summoned a palm of flame to light her path. The passage was twice as long, but guaranteed no complications, and the last thing she needed was a complication.
Intercept Rune. Get to the stables. And then what? she thought.
“Now what, princess?”
<
br /> Her temper flared and she whirled on him. Only then did she wish she hadn’t. The light from her Seidr-flame cast a silent dance of shadow and light that complimented the tunnel, his features, and frame. An uncomfortable heat warmed her neck and, afraid he would notice, she turned and carefully made her way over the raw earth.
“What is your plan for handling the guards?” Rune asked.
“The guards are dead.” Why am I telling him this? He shouldn’t know this.
“Why are the guards dead?” His tone was dark with a worry that satisfied her.
She couldn’t tell him about the Dark One. He may be complacent now, but that may change once he realized his army is near.
“Is that why you didn’t shackle me?”
There was a sense to danger, a smell to it, a certain feel that starts in the chest and spreads like a poison released in the blood. For years, she trained to detect it. It bothered her more that she had been strangely absent around Rune. If anything, she felt calm around him. She would kill him before admitting that.
“Yes,” she lied. In fact, she had been so set on getting to him before the Dark One that she had forgotten the shackles.
And why is that, Kallan?
She breathed with relief as the tunnel’s end appeared ahead and joined with the stone passage that would take her up to the barracks. It pleased her to see this passage was also empty.
“This isn’t the way they led me last time,” Rune said as she stepped her bare foot on cold, smooth stone.
Is that pleasure I hear? Is he actually enjoying this?
She bit her lip to hold back a retort.
“Are we lost?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
She debated turning on him and firing her Seidr until all that remained was a shriveled corpse of a man. So why didn’t she?
The Dark One. Right. He would evoke wrath. Unleash his fury, and why can’t I think today?
“I think we’re lost,” Rune said.
That was it. Stepping into Rune, Kallan ignited her Seidr, and slammed him into the stone wall as she raised her Seidr-flame to fire.
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