Iron Axe

by Steven Harper

  Ranadar’s demeanor shifted. His face became more arrogant, his voice harder. “Of course not, girl. I should lash you for—”

  Talfi put a hand over Ranadar’s mouth. “Still the uppity elf.”

  “Rolk!” Ranadar crushed Talfi to him in a rush of emotion, not seeming to care that two other slaves and an orc were watching. “Only you would dare call me that. How, Talashka? I saw you die.”

  “I don’t know,” Talfi said. “I die and come back, but every time I do, my memory disappears—until you kissed me and brought some of it back, anyway.”

  “Wait!” Hamzu rumbled. “Do you remember all the last hundred-some years?”

  “He speaks!” Ranadar said, taken aback.

  “How about that!” Talfi said. “We found a way for you to lie. Sort of.”

  “I still think I charged too little,” Kalessa grumbled.

  “What is going on?” Ranadar shouted.

  Aisa glided to the door and locked it. Ranadar clearly had no talent for subterfuge, and under other circumstances, she might have found his revelation about Talfi fascinating, but the Axe haft was tugging her toward the head, which was less than twenty or thirty paces away, and Ranadar was proving an obstacle. She shifted the haft, thick and heavy, in her hand.

  Talfi caught what Aisa was up to. He stepped between her and Ranadar, who seemed unable to comprehend that he was in any kind of peril. “He wouldn’t do anything to hurt us. We were planning to run away together when his father caught us.”

  “The worst day of my life, Talashka.” Ranadar couldn’t seem to stop touching Talfi, on his face, his arm, his shoulders. “And now you’re here. It’s real. Tell me everything.”

  Talfi started to speak, but Kalessa’s sword was in her hand. With a quiet sound, it changed into a long, iron sword. Ranadar hissed through his teeth and groped for his own blade, but Kalessa’s sword at his throat stopped him.

  “He is Fae,” Kalessa said. “He will betray us to his own people in a moment. We should kill him.”

  “I must agree,” Aisa said grimly. It was growing more and more difficult to stand in the hot, steamy room with the elf and his damn beautiful hands. “Elves live for elves, no one else.”

  “You will pay for that insolence, human girl,” Ranadar growled.

  “That human girl is my sister,” Kalessa retorted, “and for the rest of your short life, you will treat her with—”

  “He won’t hurt us!” Talfi interrupted. “I know he can be snotty, but—”

  “What?” Ranadar said.

  “—he loves me. It’s a lot to take in, I know, but believe me. I remember now. I was captured by slavers and sold here a long time ago. Ranadar bought me. He looked a lot different then.” He turned to Ranadar. “Your hair was longer, and you didn’t dress like this.”

  “You are addicted to him now,” Aisa pointed out. “You would believe anything he says.”

  Talfi thought a moment, then shook his head. “No. I want him, but I don’t need him. I mean, I do, but … not the way you do, Aisa.”

  Aisa didn’t know whether to feel relief, envy, or anger, so she merely closed her mouth.

  “After you … died, I went to the woods.” Ranadar touched Talfi’s face. “I barely come to the palace anymore. The army drove me back here.”

  “When you punched that sprite, I nearly swallowed my tonsils,” Talfi laughed.

  “Yes, well, I’ve been waiting to do that for a long time. RigTag Who Sings Over the Stormy Sky was always a bit of a—”

  “You have a sword at your neck, elf,” Kalessa reminded him.

  “Uh … the short story is, we fell in love,” Talfi said. “An elf for a human. Who thought?”

  “Stranger things have happened.” Hamzu looked at Aisa, who felt a little flush.

  “Look at him with your eye,” Talfi said. “You’ll see!”

  “Oh! I’m a fool.” Hamzu closed his right eye. Kalessa’s sword never wavered, but Aisa held her breath. Hamzu asked, “Would you give up your elven heritage for Talfi, elf?”

  Ranadar hesitated for a tiny moment. “Yes.”

  “Would you betray your people? Turn traitor for them?”

  Traitor, Aisa thought.

  Again, Ranadar hesitated. Talfi took both his hands again. The young man’s eyes were full of trust, and Aisa wondered what it would be like to trust someone so completely.

  “Yes,” Ranadar said. “There has been nothing for me here for more than a century.”

  Hamzu opened his right eye. “He’s true. And I don’t ever want to look at two people in love again. It’s like drinking maple syrup.”

  Watch for the—

  “Helpful traitor!” Aisa blurted out. “He’s the helpful traitor! Death mentioned him.”

  “What?” Talfi and Ranadar said at the same time.

  “Oh!” Danr clapped his hands hard. “I’d forgotten. Huh. If Death speaks for him, then, I can’t say a word.”

  Ranadar was looking more confused by the moment. “Death?”

  “Never mind,” Aisa said. “Just know that we trust you, based on high authority.”

  The doorknob rattled, and someone pounded on the wood. “Open this door, slaves!” came a fairy voice from the other side. “What do you think you’re doing in there?”

  Everyone tensed. Ranadar, however, raised his voice. “I’m inspecting my merchandise, Joff. Leave me!”

  “S-sorry, my lord.” Feet padded hurriedly away.

  Kalessa lowered her sword. “We should find the head. Now.”

  “What head?” Ranadar put a protective arm around Talfi, who looked ready to both melt and burst at the same time. “What are you talking about?”

  Hamzu explained quickly. The more he talked, the paler Ranadar became, until he looked like one of the draugr.

  “The Iron Axe,” he breathed. “You want to piece it back together.”

  “What is happening outside?” Hamzu said. “Why is Hunin’s army here?”

  Ranadar sighed. “My parents and I don’t speak much, not since Father killed my Talashka. I only know that this King Hunin has brought many human tribes together from all over Balsia. He waves a jeweled skull about and invokes a long-dead hero of some sort, and they fall all over themselves to follow him.”

  “Jeweled skull?” Talfi looked at Hamzu. “Didn’t you give—?”

  “I did,” Hamzu said grimly. “What else?”

  “We’ve heard rumors that the filthy Stane—”

  “Watch it,” Danr growled.

  “Uh, yes. The … mighty Stane are coming out from under the mountain again, and when Mother saw Hunin was raising an army to defend himself, she offered Hunin an alliance, a new treaty. If the humans fight beside us, we will take no more slaves. For a hundred years.” Ranadar cleared his throat. “Once the Stane are crushed—sorry—we’ll have peace forever. And the draugr will be laid to rest. That’s the hope, at any rate.”

  A short silence fell over the group as everyone digested this. Aisa fingered the haft. She had come to know every bump and every grain on its surface in the last several days.

  “I do not like this,” she said at last.

  “No,” Kalessa agreed. “We are missing something. Something powerful. The Fae would never ally with Kin. They see Kin as slaves or prey, not equals.”

  Ranadar shrugged. “When the Stane emerge, blinking and weak from their time underground, they will find two armies awaiting them. And we know the orcs are coming, but we outnumber both. You will have no hope.”

  “It won’t be as easy as you think,” said Hamzu with a sad pride. “Once the Stane have finished using the draugr to force the doors open, they’ll keep using the draugr to fight the war.”

  “Mother is an excellent strategist, and Father is a powerful magician, so I can’t imagine they haven’t thought of this,” Ranadar said. He was touching Talfi’s hair, as if he still couldn’t believe it was real. “But I also can’t tell you what they might plan to do about it.”


  “We need to put the Axe together,” Hamzu said. “Once we’ve done that, we’ll know where the power is hidden, and it won’t matter who can do what to whom.”

  “Will you help, Ran?” Talfi asked. “Can you help?”

  “You ask a great deal, Talashka.” The arrogant look left Ranadar’s face and he gave a smile that was both frightened and hopeful at the same time. “When your blood spilled across the floor, I thought my life would end. All I could think was that I would never see you again, and how much I hated my parents. And when I saw you on the doorstep, I thought at first you were one of those terrible draugr, and then I simply could not believe it, and then I had to believe it. The Good Gardeners, the Fates, have handed me a second chance, and I will not throw it away.”

  “Even if it means trading away your entire country,” Aisa couldn’t help asking. “That seems terribly selfish, even for a prince.”

  “It’s utterly selfish.” Ranadar tightened his arm around Talfi’s shoulder, and Aisa’s hunger growled within her at the sight. “When have elves been anything but?”

  “Hmm,” said Aisa.

  Hamzu was pressing an ear to the door. “We should move. Is the haft still pulling you toward the head, Aisa?”

  She nodded. It still felt strange to show him her bare face.

  “Then it seems a good chance that once the Axe is back together, it’ll lead us to the power. And it won’t matter whose army is biggest.”

  “What exactly do you intend to do with that Axe once you have it?” Ranadar asked.

  Aisa saw Hamzu struggle for a moment, but the truth-teller in him was forced to answer. “I will free Death from her chains, and I will stand before all the armies and tell them that anyone who tries to make war will pay with their lives.” He glanced at Aisa. “And I will tell the elves they can have no more slaves.”

  “Very nice,” Ranadar said. “And then?”

  “Then?”

  “Yes. What will you do next, great one?” Ranadar’s voice was soft and steady, and Aisa could not tell if he was being serious or sarcastic. “What will you do when Death roams free, and the blood of those who disobey you stains the forest red, and my people have run home with their tails between their legs?”

  “I … don’t know,” Hamzu said.

  “Ran,” Talfi said.

  “You will own the most powerful weapon the world has ever known,” Ranadar continued. “A weapon that can crack a continent. A weapon even the gods fear. What will you do with it?”

  Hamzu took a step backward. “I don’t have to do anything.”

  “A year from now, if the elves decide to invade Xaron,” Ranadar said, “would you stop them?”

  “Of course!”

  “And if the orcs decided to invade Alfhame? Would you stop them?”

  “I … suppose.”

  “And if the Third Nest tried to raid the poorer Seventh Nest for their ragged sheep and goats, would you stop them?”

  Hamzu’s voice was shaky. “Probably. If I knew about it.”

  “What gives you the right to do any of it?”

  And Hamzu remained silent. The room filled with silence. It hung in the steamy air, heavier than the mist.

  Aisa stared. Ranadar had asked Hamzu a direct question, and he had not answered. His compulsion to tell the full truth had not forced him to speak.

  “There is no true way to answer your question,” Hamzu said at last. He sounded sad and tired.

  “No,” Ranadar said. “You needed to be aware of that.”

  Hamzu slumped to a bench. Aisa quietly sat next to him but didn’t speak.

  “Speaking of truth,” Kalessa said, “I would like to know how we will leave this place once we have the Axe. We have had no chance to plan an escape, and I have the feeling we will be heavily pursued the moment we find the head.”

  “We will Twist,” Ranadar sniffed. “Honestly.”

  This brought Aisa’s head around. “You can Twist?”

  “All elves can Twist, at least a little. There is plenty of power in this tree. I will open a portal, and we can go.”

  “Why didn’t you Twist away when you wanted to escape with Talfi the first time around?”

  Here Ranadar actually dropped his eyes. “Because … I was a coward. I hesitated, and Father was able to seize control of the Twist. Then he killed my Talashka, and it didn’t seem worth it to leave. Nothing was worth anything.”

  “But it’s different now,” Talfi said, taking his hand. “We’re all different. Let’s find the other half of the Axe.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The drums throbbed in Danr’s head and heart, growing more and more powerful. They made him want to smash and rip and tear. His awful monster half demanded to come out, and he worked hard to keep it under control.

  “Where is everyone?” Kalessa whispered. “We haven’t even seen any slaves since the bath.”

  “Who cares?” Talfi said. “We have it easy for once. Let’s go.”

  The hall ended in the throne room. They entered behind Aisa, who held the haft before her.

  Like the rest of the palace, the throne room seemed to be deserted. The dark, burnished wood reflected high, arched windows that showed the bloody sun as it dipped down to touch Lake Nu. High above the sun, the stars that made up Urko were merging into a bright comet.

  In the center of the room was a large round table of stone. Strange objects covered it. Curious and apprehensive, Danr crossed to it, his bare feet padding on the wood, and discovered a lifelike model of the city of Palana and its surroundings spread across the surface. Lake, trees, grassy plain—all there. There were even tiny tents and miniature men to show where the Kin were camped. The men moved, and Danr jumped back, startled.

  “It’s a projection,” Ranadar said, joining him. “Father created it so he can see from up here everything that happens down there. Sometimes I think he imagines himself to be Rolk or Olar, watching the little people down below.”

  Aisa joined him at the table, standing between Danr and Ranadar. For a moment, Danr thought she might take his hand in that thrilling way of hers. Then he saw her eyes cut to Ranadar and his impossibly handsome face. Desire flickered across her features before she could suppress it, and he felt an unexpected heat of jealousy, accented by the drums. It wasn’t fair. Only now was he able to see her face, and on it he saw desire for someone else. He knew her feelings were false, that none of this was Aisa’s or Ranadar’s fault, but right then he wanted to snap the elf’s neck.

  “Are you all right, Aisa?” he asked gruffly.

  “I will be,” she said, “once we piece the Axe together.”

  Kalessa glanced about nervously. “We are not safe here.”

  “We are perfectly safe.” Ranadar sniffed. “I’m the prince. If anyone comes in, you are here at my bidding.”

  The people on the projection continued to move. The sun was setting at the edge of the table, pushing shadows across the lake and into the forest. Among the human army flitted a number of miniature glowing sprites. Dozens and dozens of them.

  “Look at all the sprites,” Talfi said. “Are they providing light for the camp?”

  “Maybe they’re lighting the way for that elf.” Danr pointed to a spot near the lake. A tiny elven woman, resplendent in green and golden robes, strode down to the water with a scepter. More than a dozen tiny elves in bronze armor accompanied her. Other elves, hundreds of them, spread out in the forest behind. Fairies and human slaves stood with them.

  “That’s Mother,” Ranadar said. “I don’t understand.”

  “It explains why the palace is empty,” Aisa said.

  The drums throbbed harder in Danr’s head. “Maybe it has something to do with the doors opening.”

  “How can it?” Aisa said. “They are many days’ travel away.”

  “Your mother is the queen?” Danr said to Ranadar.

  “You should refer to her as Her Majesty, Queen Gwylph.”

  “Who’s that with her?” He poin
ted to a human standing beside Gwylph. His finger brushed the projection and he felt a quiet wrench, nowhere near as bad as a Twist, and abruptly he was standing on the shore of the lake. Trees reached across the slender beach to the water, and low waves lapped against pale sand. All the people Danr had seen, including Gwylph and the human figure, burst into full size. Danr felt hard boards beneath his feet instead of sand, however, and he realized he was experiencing the projection as a life-size image.

  “—ready to begin any moment,” the queen was saying. Up close, her perfect beauty was overwhelming. Her hair was spun from flax and gold; her eyes shone like jewels from the Stane treasury. Danr wanted to fall to his knees before her. “As soon as I receive the proper signal from my lord husband.”

  “Excellent,” said Hunin. He was the human standing next to the resplendent queen, and he wore a king’s violet cloak and gold crown instead of armor, no doubt because the elves wouldn’t allow iron armor or weapons within their borders. The mourning ring, however, still made a black circle on his left hand. Behind him, on a litter chair carried by four soldiers, sat White Halli. His bruises had faded, of course, though he still had splints on his arm and leg. He was dressed in blue and gold, and even had a sword at his waist, but he’d been strapped to the chair to keep him upright, and his eyes remained vacant. A bit of drool oozed from the corner of his mouth. Guilt weighed black and heavy on Danr at the sight.

  Hunin continued. “I—we—look forward to watching their blood flow, Majesty.”

  The sound of his voice jarred Danr from the half trance created by guilt and the queen’s loveliness, and a pang jerked his heart. So it was true. Hunin had crowned himself king and brought great armies of humans here to Palana in Alfhame, all because he hated all Stane for what one of them had done to his son. He was obviously using Halli as a rallying point. For how many speeches had Hunin propped up his son in front of a crowd and shouted about the terrible Stane?

  “Don’t do this, my lord,” Danr said hoarsely. “Please.”

  Both of them turned. Hunin clapped his hand to his bronze sword, and Queen Gwylph pointed her scepter. The other elves behind them came alert in a rattle of bronze. Only now that Danr had spoken did they seem to notice he was there. Hunin recovered himself first.