The Beast of the North

by Alaric Longward

  ‘Go and take a bow. You won,’ I told her and walked over Hammar and disappeared into the doorway.

  CHAPTER 15

  Lith greeted me at the door of the Pit’s Edge. She scowled as she eyed Sand and shook her head as she turned to me. I looked around and saw she was not alone. There were a dozen Blacktower men there, all with weapons drawn. ‘What now?’ I asked her with a growl.

  She shrugged back, eying me thoughtfully. ‘You are hurt.’

  I looked down to my side. I was bleeding from Sand’s sword thrust. There was a distant yell echoing around the Dark Sands stadium, and I did not know what to tell her. ‘He is hurt worse.’

  ‘He is,’ she said, and her eyes softened. ‘I am sorry.’

  ‘I’ll need him healed,’ I told her and saw she was shaking her head. ‘No?’

  ‘You don’t understand, Maskan,’ she answered. ‘You have a job to do. We will take it from here.’

  ‘You?’ I said incredulously. ‘I will not leave him.’

  Regret was playing on her face. ‘I am sorry. But we will take him. We will care for him. And you shall have to hurry to do your duty. The joke has gone on for long enough. If you do not obey us …’ she said softly, and I understood the threat. They would kill us both. She softened the threat with a small curtsy. ‘We will heal him. You will see him up in the Tower when it is all finally over. We don’t have time, Maskan,’ she told me and touched my face, but at the same time the men in the room took a step forward. I flinched away from her, and her face bubbled with rage. ‘I said, we do not have time.’

  ‘He is alive. If I do not see him alive again, I shall kill you,’ I told her.

  She nodded at me. ‘I understand. Nothing’s changed, Maskan,’ she told me, hugging herself. ‘Nothing. We still have something to do, something important, and the guilty ones must perish. They must. You agreed to this, no?’

  ‘I did. But I’ve lost my appetite for murder, especially the death of someone I have no real knowledge of. Only your words, actually. And they have all been twisted and filthy.’

  ‘Red Midgard needs this, Maskan,’ she explained and put a hand on mine. Her touch was cold, but there was desperation in her eyes, and I found it hard to turn away from them. ‘Look,’ she said and showed me her hand. It was hale. Her fingers were dexterous, the joints moved. ‘You broke it. If you care nothing for Red Midgard and a house of your own, then do this for him. I will heal him. He will need you to obey.’

  ‘You are a bitch,’ I told her as I stared at the hand. I laid Sand on the ground and threw the whip aside. ‘Yes,’ I said with a sigh. ‘Now, I have a date with the queen.’

  She nodded, nervously. ‘Falg is dead, right?’

  ‘He died. Made a mistake,’ I said. ‘I didn’t kill him.’

  ‘It will be risky going as him,’ she said, listening to people complaining to Blacktower guards on the top. ‘They want to know where you went and if the woman you left alive honestly won. There is a Helheim up there with all the bets going awry.’ She grinned. ‘I lost some gold as well.’ She turned to look up, listening to the sounds. ‘I do hope they won’t take the news of Falg’s death out there too fast.’

  ‘Won’t matter. Take Sand and spare his life,’ I told her, ‘and I will bring you the news of the queen’s death.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ she asked me as I walked past her. I pushed some Blacktower guards away from me, walked to the door to Falg’s and White Brother’s dressing room. I opened it up and tore off my chain with a wince as the wound throbbed angrily and headed for the magnificent gear of the White Brother.

  ‘Help me with this,’ I told her with a grin as she gawked at the door.

  ‘What about the poison?’ she said weakly, getting in. ‘No. We must stick to the plan!’

  ‘I’m bringing the queen sad news of Falg,’ I grumbled and grabbed the helmet. ‘He died.’

  ‘No! This is too risky. Dangerous! We had a plan and …’ she began but saw I was not listening to her. I tossed the bottle with poison to her, and she grabbed it from the air. The pellets rattled inside. The rage was still throbbing in my head, and I felt dangerous, uncaring. She shook her head, and helped me pull on black chain mail, black boots with greaves, pauldrons and cuirass, gauntlets and a gorget and finally, the helmet. There were many other parts, and I didn’t even know what to call them, but Lith was expertly making me look presentable. She smiled weakly. ‘Can you walk around in it? You will waddle like a duck.’

  Surprisingly, the armor felt like I had been born to it. ‘It feels incredible. The damned whip? And the sword.’ She nodded and fetched them.

  She bowed to me. ‘Good luck, savior of Red Midgard.’

  ‘Queen killer,’ I corrected her, feeling wretched with the whole business. ‘And if Sand dies, prepare to join him.’

  She laughed merrily for some reason, and I went out.

  I found the White Brother’s horse readied in the stable; the boy in charge of the establishment was bowing with confusion, and I ignored him. He had probably heard the man owning the armor and the horse was dead, but there I was, mounting the unfamiliar beast. I guided the creature downhill and then for the alleys. Sand. Sand was alive. Still. I’d keep him that way. I rode to dark alleyways and people gave way. Most looked scared, alarmed, and I thought of a king whose men made such an impression on his subjects. The queen was no better. That I told myself as I rode on. The horse was skittish, probably because it knew there was a wrong man inside the armor. It tried to pull my grip off the bridle, and I felt foolish for fighting with it in plain sight of the commoners and nobles of the city. ‘Easy, you damned thing. Be a good boy, please,’ I pleaded, and it seemed to listen to me, for it settled down a bit. I made my way through the lanes, praying for the gods to have mercy on me for what I was about to do. Murder. I would murder. For Sand, as well as my family. I would. Though had I not already done so? I made it past the Second Ring’s gates without any questions from the Mad Watch and wound my way for the Third Ring. I went past the street where the mint was, passed the Thin Way, entered the main street and headed for the Tenginell house.

  I pushed my horse forward and rode for the Tenginell house. The guards were closing the gate after some carts were rolling out, but spied me and stopped. They eyed me nervously, and I clutched the deadly whip in my fist. They stared up at me, the other one nudged the other and they began to crank open the doors. ‘Congratulations, Lord. You won again. Will your partner be coming back soon?’ one chatted with me amicably.

  I shook my head and nodded at the main house and said nothing. They bowed, confused, and let me through. One obstacle behind, I thought. The mush and slush on the ground were white and gray, and I noticed my blood was dripping to the snow from the horse’s flank. It hurt, but I had business to finish. Larkgrin was again clutched in my gauntlet. The queen would not have a chance in Hel to survive it. I looked around and hoped to figure out a way to escape the place. In armor, I realized, it would be very hard.

  For Sand, I would try.

  I rode in through the gate, and slaves ran out of the house and the stable area. There was one lanky man with a thin beard and a girl of twelve gawking up at me. I dismounted heavily and cursed, as the wound hurt desperately. I held onto the horse for a moment, gathering my resolve. It moved away from me.

  ‘Shh, pretty one. Galisan,’ the man told the horse. ‘She is upset, Lord, but I will take care of her.’

  Her, I chuckled.

  ‘May I ask how your event went, Lord?’ the man asked me.

  I waved my hand at the dripping blood. ‘Well. It is nothing. Nothing, really. I’d see the queen. Falg is dead.’

  ‘The queen?’ asked the girl, very confused.

  ‘I’d see the queen. Alone. Her servant has died,’ I told her slowly, trying to mimic the voice of the White Brother.

  ‘I see,’ the girl said and hesitated. Then she brightened and nodded my way. ‘She is praying. Alone,’ she said meekly. ‘She is in the crypts. No
t sure you wish to disturb her there?’

  I could not wait. I’d get caught. ‘This is important. I will bother her only for a moment.’

  ‘Yes, Lord,’ the girl said with some hesitation and curtsied. ‘This way.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I grunted. ‘Keep the horse here. I will leave momentarily for the Tower of the Temple.’ I was shivering with fear but headed for the main doors, arrogant and superior.

  ‘May I show you the way?’ the girl asked as she ran past me.

  ‘By all means, do,’ I agreed and waited as she skittered for the door. I nearly kicked myself, for surely the real White Brother would need no guide. She was not suspicious, however, and bowed to the guards at the door, hustled through to a round roofed portico and held the door open for me. There was a footman in a rich, silver threaded coat and his eyes followed me as I walked past him. He cast his eyes down, and the girl showed me the way forward. In the middle, there was a central room with a cold fireplace, couches and armchairs scattered around and a circular wooden stairway to the higher floors. There were many guards up there, and I wondered how I would get away, for I saw several Brother Knights in the rooms above, laughing at a joke. I started for the stairway, but the girl gingerly pulled me to the left. There, at the shadowy end of a hallway, there was a pillared marble stairway leading down. There was something forlorn about it, and there was a smell of violets in the air. Crypts, I thought. The queen was visiting her dead family as well as the living one. The girl stopped there, at the door and nodded that way. ‘She is there, now. Praying.’

  I nodded and stood on top of the stairway. She eyed me curiously, probably wondering at my timidity, and I was not sure I could go through with what I had planned to do. I walked down the stairs, the armor clanking on the stone steps. There were oil lamps fluttering on the walls, held by iron claws. There was an ominous feeling in the air, thick, strange, and I smelled the incense.

  Below, at the end of the stairway, there was a black doorway that was ajar. Inside, there were fires burning. Torches were fluttering, a small wind was playing with cobwebs. I looked up the stairway, and saw the girl, following me. She stopped as I stopped. She smiled and waved me onwards.

  Gods, I would have to murder the queen with her watching. I would have to think about what to do, I despaired.

  ‘Go back,’ I told her. ‘I know the way.’ I noticed she was smiling. And her hand glowed briefly. So did my ring. And my gauntlet. ‘What are you doing?’

  She did not answer. Not to me. ‘He has that evil ring. And your staff, my Lord. That is all.’

  ‘What—’

  ‘Come in,’ said a regal female voice.

  I turned around, then faced the girl who looked at me with encouragement. She winked and pointed a very steady finger down to the door. ‘Are you not going to heed her call?’

  ‘I—’

  ‘Won’t kill her. Trust me. You can breathe easily now!’ she told me. ‘And you won’t die either. Probably. You are safe and it is all over. In a good way. You failed and the draugr did as well.’

  Draugr? I hesitated. Sand. Sand was with the Blacktowers. He was far from safe.

  I took a very deep breath and walked down unsteadily. I pushed at the door and hesitated. There were no Tenginells there. She was alone. There was only the queen. She was lounging on a throne on top of a curious looking mound full of carved stones. She was draped in an attire of red velvet, seemed fragile and pale, and her blonde hair was shimmering in the dark. Behind her, there were a dozen fires burning on small cauldrons. The mound was twenty feet across and ten high. The slabs that made up its sides were subtly differently colored, all gray and black or nearly white. There were runes on the rocks, and I noticed they were all inscribed with a strange, undecipherable language that was oddly familiar. I nodded at the queen, then cursed myself and bowed low. Her eyes flickered with amusement, but then her mood changed to a somber one. ‘You killed him?’ she asked me gently. ‘Borlein.’

  I stared at her. I clutched the whip and breathed hard. ‘Yes. If Borlein is the White Brother, who hung my family. I did it. With your—’

  ‘Staff. My staff,’ she said. ‘It is sad I ever lost it. It was a surprising night. We lost many things then. I’ll miss Borlein. We grow few.’

  I shrugged. I had killed him indeed, and he had murdered my family. ‘Your staff?’ I asked her. ‘The king lost it the day he tried to rape my mother.’

  She rubbed her face, and I noticed there was a brief look of relief mixed with sorrow in her eyes. ‘Take off Borlein’s helmet,’ she told me. ‘I wish to see your face.’ Her face was pale as snow, hair blonde and tall, and she looked very young. There was something strange in her voice, a thrumming, inhuman rhythm, and I felt my hair stand up all over my body. ‘Never mind. Let me.’

  Then, my helmet lifted into the air and fell behind me with a clatter.

  I stared at it. I heard a giggle behind me, and the girl was standing there, leaning on the wall. ‘It is him. So lost.’

  ‘Maskan, I hear they named you,’ the queen said, standing up. She flicked her hand, and the helmet flew to the girl, who grabbed it from the air. ‘We never got the chance.’

  ‘You know me, your highness?’ I choked. Your highness, I groaned to myself. I was there to murder her.

  She grinned, wringing her hands. She hesitated and gestured to the side of the mound, where a great slab of stone stood. ‘Go ahead,’ she said. I took a hesitant step forward and then walked forward slowly, trying to keep an eye on every shadow. She had lifted my helmet, I thought. Artifact?

  She grinned as I reached the slab of stone. It was white and black, with veins of gray running across its surface. ‘What is it, Maskan?’ she asked from her throne. ‘That stone?’

  ‘It is a strange rock?’ I asked her, looking up at her face. She smiled and waited. I looked at the stone carefully. It felt strange … honorable, sacred. The incense made me feel a bit strange, and I thought I could read the text though only for a moment.

  ‘Struggle, Maskan. Try. You can. It’s that thing on your finger that is stopping you,’ the queen told me with a hint of loathing in her voice. ‘Show it to me.’

  I hesitated but pulled off my gauntlet. She leaned forward. ‘Sorrowspinner.’

  ‘It is,’ I agreed.

  ‘Tal Talien’s cursed ring. His family found it long ago in a battle—’

  ‘I’ve been told,’ I grunted.

  ‘It cannot be removed unless your heart stops and you die, and they thought it appropriately ghoulish to mark their lord like that throughout the generations,’ she chuckled. ‘It is just another thing that was lost that fateful night when we killed Tal and his … people. In reality, it dampens most all magic. Not all, but most all. A strong one can resist it somewhat. And I sense you have. Resisted it.’

  ‘It gives me my face changing ability,’ I said, uncomfortable with speaking to the tall lady I was supposed to kill.

  She leaned forward, smiling. ‘Truly fascinating to hear their lies through your lips. Fine. But fight now. Look at the rock. And read it. Fight through the haze.’

  ‘What—’ I began but hesitated. And then I tried. I felt the rage return, the ring throb in my hand. I looked at the rock, furious and determined and fought as hard as I could. My head throbbed, my eyes burned with salty sweat and then, I made out the words though only for a second.

  ‘Here lies Queen Mellina Tenginell the Good.

  A gentle soul, face hidden by a dark hood.

  Slain by the Night.

  Eaten by the Blight.’

  The queen nodded at me, and I fell on my knees, holding my head. She sighed. ‘How they shackled you, boy. How they made you something so strange to us. They took everything you were given as a gift at birth. But it is all there. Still. Under the lies. And spells.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ I told her miserably.

  ‘You have your skills, boy,’ she said evenly, nodding at the thing. ‘A shackle makes you weak. We will have
to think about it.’

  ‘It is an artifact,’ I insisted. ‘My father’s artifact!’

  She snickered. ‘No, it is not. I—’

  ‘Who is Mellina Tenginell?’ I interrupted her. ‘Your relative? And why could I read that text?’

  ‘Oh, yes. She was related to me by marriage,’ she grinned. ‘She looked like this,’ she said and indicated herself.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ I told her, frowning. ‘Are you mocking me? First, your husband killed my father, and then my mother, and my … half family, and now you are here, making fun of me. I came here to slay you, and perhaps I shall.’ I heard the girl shift behind me, but the woman raised her hand at her.

  Her eyes fixed on mine. Her face went solemn. ‘No, dear boy, I am not mocking you,’ she said sadly. ‘As for the woman you speak of? This so-called mother of yours? She never gave birth to you. She was not your mother, Maskan. Mellina was your mother. What you know are lies. All lies. Their kind … lives to plot. They embrace risks, they create elaborate shows and enjoy complications and hardships and failures. They can work on a plan for decades, slowly nurturing it into final steps, as they did with you though they failed. They are driven by their desires, often conflicting, they obey their lords only when they must, and they will kill us all if they can.’

  ‘But you all lie and—’

  She shook her head heavily and interrupted me. ‘Though, of course, we also lie, yes. Royals do. We have fought your recent acquaintances for decades, their lies, and fended off their attacks after that terrible first one, where they took so much from us, including you. We have bowed to the south, tried to keep the north together. All sides tell lies. Yet, this is the truth. Once we were the enemies of the people of Midgard. Then, when we lost the war, we made peace with men. We have governed the city and the land for well over two thousand years.’