by C. M. Lance
An aching feeling of loss had awakened him.
Creatures from his nightmares stood on the other side of the bars. They weren’t looking at him; they stared to his right at something out of sight.
A voice hissed, “Pick… It… UP.”
A scrapping sound followed and then a roar that rose to a scream. The feeling of loss intensified. He scrunched his eyes against a flash of light. Smoke billowed, carrying a smell like burnt pork. It gagged him.
What in the world had he gotten into? If this was a dream, he’d never eat three meat lasagna again. Hell, he’d become a vegan.
The aching feeling of loss decreased. Something shiny flew into the room. The eyes of the creatures from his nightmares followed the arch of the object until it landed on the floor in the middle of the room. He stared at it with them. Aðalbrandr!
Something else followed and landed next to the medallion. A broom? Someone outside the room shouted something he didn’t catch. A moment later, a door slammed.
The creatures moved hesitantly toward Aðalbrandr. Sig stared at them. If they were people, they were the ugliest he had ever seen. They weren’t only ugly; they were huge. From where he sat, they appeared at least seven feet tall. Their oversized heads towered to within less than a foot from the ceiling.
One of the beasts warily pinched the chain between a massive finger and thumb. Holding it away from its body as if afraid it would burn him, he hung it from a peg on the wall opposite Sig’s cell. The other picked up the broom and trudged out of the chamber into the next room, where the flash of light had come from.
Sig stood. He felt weak. His eyes drooped. Maybe he should lie down again.
The hulk that hung the medallion followed the other into the next room. Sig stepped over to the bars and pressed his head against them to see what his captors were doing. They swept something up and dumped it into a trash bag. One slung it over his shoulder and trudged out of sight. The other returned and looked about the chamber and then walked toward Sig, who backed away from the bars.
The brute grabbed the bars and pressed its face against them, looking Sig up and down. The other one lumbered back from his task and joined in looking Sig over.
Sig stood in the middle of the cell. He reached up. The ceiling was taller than the standard eight feet. It had to be at least nine feet. That made the monsters well over seven feet, close to eight feet tall. He stepped further back from the bars.
The bigger one wrinkled his nose as if sniffing at Sig. “You beat up Dmitri?”
The creatures looked at each other and brayed like donkeys. Were they laughing?
Their exposed teeth seemed to be carved out of two-by-fours. They were the same yellowish color and grainy.
When they turned their laughter towards him, their breath smelled like a cloud of garbage. He wrinkled his nose and breathed through his mouth.
The smaller one reached toward him through the bars. Sig stepped back again. Its long arm almost reached him.
“You little shit, you beat up our baby brother? Dmitri is useless, but beat up by a midget? Never live this down. Even Momma be ‘shamed.”
“Dmitri is your brother?”
“Half brother. His daddy just left.”
“I didn’t see him. Who is he?”
The big one’s eyes darted about. He hesitated and then said, “The Dark Mage, our Master. Momma’s boyfriend.”
Sig tried not to imagine what their mother looked like. “Why am I here?”
They looked at each other and shrugged. “The Master wants you here. He said you safe. He already took your magic away, long time ago when you were little boy.”
“How did he take my magic?”
They shrugged. “He made magic spell? Maybe demon like did to your granddaddy.” Clearly, they weren’t the brains of the outfit.
“What are you going to do with me?”
“We would eat you, but he won’t let us, only the little girl.”
Sig’s stomach turned over.
“The little girl not good, not virgin. He give her to us. He say he get another one before full moon.”
Sig pointed at Aðalbrandr. “Will you bring that to me?”
They looked at each other and brayed again. “You silly. No way. Master would hurt us. He said it is the only magic you have.” He frowned. “Master let it burn up little brother Otho.”
“When will he come back?”
“Little brother Otho never come back.” He sniffed the air. “Burnt up, throw away.”
Sig figured out the source of the burnt meat smell. “No, I meant when will the Master come back?”
They both shrugged.
Sig sat down with his back to the wall. His cell was windowless with no place to hide. The barred wall was open to the chamber containing creatures that he realized were trolls. He remembered Rick’s tale about Dmitri’s troll DNA.
Trapped in a dungeon guarded by two giant trolls, Aðalbrandr out of reach; it was his mother’s vision.
Something niggled at the back of his mind. Something she or Fiona said about her vision.
Before he could dredge the memory up from his groggy brain, he was drenched with foul smelling water. He jumped up out of the puddle. One of the trolls stood next to the bars holding a large bucket. The other reached through the bars with a mop handle and poked him. Sig moved to stand next to the back wall to get out of reach.
“You fancy college boy. You like Dmitri. Not go to good football school like OU. We gonna go OU.”
The other troll walked away nodding and braying. He fetched a broom and another pail. He tried to poke Sig with the broom. With his back to the wall, he was out of range, barely.
The troll pulled garbage out of the pail and threw it at Sig. He tried to dodge but a blackened banana peal hit him in the neck. The trolls brayed again. Both reached into the bucket and threw more garbage at him. Dodging was futile and seemed to fuel their enjoyment of the game. Sig sat to make himself a smaller target and covered his head with his arms. Corncobs, apple cores, tin cans, wet paper, chicken bones, gnawed ribs, and other disgusting items smacked into him, the floor, and on the nearby wall.
They pelted him with garbage until the pail was empty.
One troll picked up the pail and left. The other showed his slab-like teeth in what probably passed for a smile in his family. “Master took the key, but we still have fun with you.” He stuck a sausage like finger up his nose, dug around, and pulled out a slimy green bugger. He flicked it at Sig.
Sig dodged, and rolled away. It didn’t do much good. He rolled through wet garbage.
The troll returned with two pails. First, they hurled water at him. At least this water was cleaner. Then they threw more garbage. Sig moved to a corner and sat again. He’d try to keep the garbage localized in one part of the room.
They went through three more pairs of pails before they lost interest. Sig’s lack of resistance eventually made the game boring. Soaked and shivering by the time they finished, Sig remained in the wet and garbage littered half of the cell, in case they came back for more of their fun.
After fifteen minutes, he decided that they must have lost interest. He crawled over to the dry side of the cell and huddled in the other corner, hoping a small amount of his body heat would reflect back off the walls. It was wet, garbage strewn, and cold. Everything he imagined a dungeon would be. The upside was no spiders or rats, so far.
He stared at Aðalbrandr hanging on the wall across from his cell while he shivered. So near and yet so far. Ms. Winslow, in AP Composition always said idioms were for idiots. Right now, Ms. Winslow, I don’t care. I’ll be creative when I’m dry, warm, and clean.
What kept scrabbling at the back of his mind?
From Mom’s vision. Something about Aðalbrandr. Something that he said in her vision.
What would he say about Aðalbrandr? My, what big knife I have? Rub it; you’ll be surprised how big it gets?
He closed his eyes and ran their phone call through his mi
nd. Dungeon – check, misshapen people – definite check, a fight – there wasn’t much of a fight. Someone took my amulet – big check. The owl and wolf – not that I can see.
Wait, something before she mentioned Andras. I can almost hear it. That’s it. “Aðalbrandr is part of me,” he whispered.
Nothing happened. What’s the big deal about it in the vision?
Chapter 65
He stared at Aðalbrandr hanging on the wall across the chamber outside his cell. It never seemed further from being part of him. He hadn’t taken it off since Grampa Thor gave it to him. He estimated the distance at twenty feet.
Pressing his face against the bars of his cell and looking right, he could see the mop leaning against the wall outside his the cell, just out of reach. If he could reach it, it still wouldn’t extend to the far wall, even with arms like a troll.
One of the trolls lay snoring on a pile of straw at the far end of the room. The other wasn’t in sight. This chamber appeared to be where the hall he could see outside the doorway dead-ended.
Anything was worth a try. He took off his belt. He swung it up under where the mop leaned against the wall. When the buckle hit the mop, he pulled on the belt. The top of the mop handle inched closer. Four more tries and the top of the mop moved far enough to overbalance. It slid down the wall and landed with a clack on the stone floor.
The sleeping troll stirred and rolled over.
Sig knelt and pulled the mop into the cell. He held the belt and mop up. Together they would be nine feet long. That wouldn’t reach the far wall.
He glanced around quickly. Nothing in his cell. A broom leaned next to the doorway leading to the hall. Too far away and too short besides. Even the broom, the mop, and his belt together wouldn’t reach the far wall.
He leaned his head against the bars in frustration and closed his eyes. If only he had magic.
His eyes popped open. He did have magic. Grampa and the Professor said he had internal magic, but if Aðalbrandr is part of me?
It was worth a try. “Aðalbrandr.”
The world looked the same. He raised his arms and looked at them. Unchanged, they were still human sized.
The other troll walked into the room. “Who are you talking to?” He peered about suspiciously.
Sig backed away from the bars.
The troll pointed at the mop. “Who give you that?”
Sig remained silent.
While the troll walked over to the sleeping one, Sig focused on Aðalbrandr. What did he remember about levitating objects? He needed a tutor now. He concentrated, trying to remember what Grampa and the Professor told him.
After rousing the sleeping troll, both trundled toward the cell in their rolling gait.
The medallion across the room rose above the peg until the chain slid free. He gestured at it and it sped toward him. The trolls halted in front of the cell. One noticed his gesture and turned to look. The medallion flew by his head. He reached for it, and missed. It sped into Sig’s raised hand with a smack. Ahhh, it felt good.
“Hey, what are you doing? Give me that.”
“Aðalbrandr.” The ceiling rushed down at him. He ducked.
When he straightened, his head touched the roof. The trolls gazed up at him. Their jaws hung slack. One grunted, “Huh?”
Sig sliced through the door lock. The door swung open. A troll pushed it back. Sig kicked it open. It hit the troll and he bounced back two steps.
Sig ducked under the door casing and sheathed his sword over his shoulder before straightening up. He wanted to feel it when he hit them. Is this what battle rage felt like?
One troll rushed him with a roar. Sig stepped to the side and drove his knuckles into its neck as it surged past. It dropped to its hands and knees and bounced back up.
The next one grabbed for him and Sig leaned back and snapped a sidekick into its face. Its nose squashed and the creature stumbled back three steps before it fell down. The first troll jumped on his back, wrapping one arm around Sig’s neck, and pummeled him in the head with the other. It felt like being hit with a large rock.
Sig backpedaled and slammed the troll on his back into the rock wall. Its grip loosened when its head smacked the wall, but he didn’t let go. Sig grabbed the troll by a pant leg and pulled both legs up and around. Spinning to where the fallen troll was getting up, he smacked it in its damaged face with both of his brother’s massive feet.
It staggered back. Sig flipped, twisting in the air to land on the troll clinging to his back. As he landed, he drove his elbow into the troll’s chest. Something gave and a gust of fetid air blasted out.
Sig rolled out of its relaxed grip and kipped to his feet in time to block a kick and then two roundhouse punches from the standing troll. He snapped two quick jabs into the troll’s already damaged face. It staggered back and dropped to one knee, catching its balance with a hand on the wall.
This was fun. These hulks were so big they never had to learn how to fight.
He spun back to the other. It had managed to pull itself upright and charged again. It wasn’t very smart but it was persistent. Sig bicycled his legs in the air. The troll bent to block the first, lower kick and received the heel of the second foot in the middle of his face. Its face pulped and he landed on his back, head snapping back on the flagstones with a smack. Blood streamed from its nose and mouth.
The other pushed up from its knee. Sig grabbed an arm and whirled, throwing it head first into the cell bars. The bars bent apart as its head went through. It slid down until its neck lodged where the bars came back together. That was a hard head.
Sig turned to where the other troll had rolled over and tried to rise from the floor. This wasn’t as much fun as he’d hoped. They didn’t take as much punishment as he expected. If he’d known, he wouldn’t have hit them so hard, to make it last longer.
The troll pushed up to its hands and knees. Its head shook and blood sprayed. Sig grabbed the troll by the collar and pants, took three quick steps, and rammed its head between the bars. Sig let go. It slid down and its head lodged. Sig stood sideways, grabbed the bars, and heaved, pulling one bar toward him and pressing the other away. The bars squeaked as he forced them back together so the troll couldn’t get his head out by standing up. He did the same for the other troll.
Now he didn’t have to worry about trolls at his back while he figured out how to get out of here. He walked toward the hall outside the chamber. He didn’t know what he’d find out there.
Chapter 66
Sig pulled the sword out of the holster on his back, stuck his head through the doorway into the hallway, and looked both ways. No one hid beside the wall. The hallway stretched ahead for sixty feet. Doors lined both sides with a door at the far end of the hall. Next to his doorway, a small table held his wallet, keys, and cellphone. He tried to dial his cellphone, with fingers that were too big. Worry about that later.
He tried the first closed door on the right and found it locked. The next door stood open. He looked in, but the smell and the sight before him almost made him lose the lasagna he had eaten. There was a bloody cloth in the corner. Bones, some still with meat attached were scattered around the room.
Sig picked up the cloth, shook it out, and dropped it. It was a frilly dress. He backed out and shut the door. Leaning against the wall, he threw up.
The next door hid an empty room. He considered checking the doors on the other side of the hall, but decided to continue on this side and come back if he needed to. Opening the fourth doorway revealed a stairway leading upward. A closed door stood at the top.
He climbed the steps, placing his feet close to the wall to prevent squeaking. At the top, he tried the handle. It was unlocked. He the door and waited. Nothing happened. It led to a storage area. Shelves lined the walls and a row ran down the middle of the room. An identical door stood next to the one from the steps. It concealed heating and cooling machinery.
Another door stood across the storeroom.
It ope
ned onto a large, lushly carpeted, wood paneled recreation room. Immediately to the left was a shuffleboard table. The room also contained two card tables, a billiards table, three pinball machines, and a dartboard hanging on the wall. Across the room, a doublewide doorway stood open to a hallway. Exiting the room, he saw a window set high in the wall at the end of the hallway. He must be in a basement. The trolls occupied a subbasement. He thought of Mom’s vision.
The doorway marked a transition from thick, sound deadening carpet to a marble floor. He tiptoed across the floor to a marble stairway leading up. It had a marble stair rail and a wide maroon carpet runner running up the middle. Listening carefully as he ascended, he didn’t hear any sounds.
It opened to a magnificent foyer at the top. Expansive and tastefully furnished, he didn’t know what he expected, but this wasn’t it.
Anticlimactic. He could imagine torture instruments or a rack perhaps, but not a large floral arrangement in a Chinese vase, atop an ornately carved antique sideboard. Fresh flowers too. He smelled Stargazer lilies, one of Mom’s favorites.
He didn’t want to stick around. Landscape lighting illuminated the manicured grounds in the dark outside. He and Rick ate dinner at twilight.
He jogged across the lawn to the double gate blocking the driveway. Should he force it open? Hell yes, after the way he’d been treated. He sliced through the hinges on one side. The gate leaned. It fell outward with an echoing boom when he shoved it. He sheathed his sword and walked across it.
In the street, he looked both ways and didn’t see anyone. He glanced back at the house before he laid his wallet and cellphone on the ground. Someday he’d have to find out if everything on him vanished when he changed, but not today.
He said “Koma aftur.” The standing gate appeared to grow. He would classify the house behind it as an estate.
He retrieved his wallet and phone. Crap, it was almost two a.m. and he hadn’t picked up the professor. Nothing he could do about it now, on foot, but where was he? Was he even still in Chicago? He turned on the GPS and brought up Maps. He played with it for a moment and finally determined the address of the estate. He saved it for future reference.
