Chronos and the Rogue Hunters

by Edward Eck

  Francois regarded his partner for a moment. “And how exactly do you propose to do that? We need to find them first. So, unless you know their hole in the ground, we’re stuck with playing these games.”

  Malcolm stood, still a little shaky, and pointed a finger at Deustoff while his other hand remained wrapped around the bottle. “You are exactly correct. We need to attack them directly. An all-out assault on their castle. While Vincent was under my control, he revealed Ravenicon’s location. If I could just remember…” He tapped the bottle against his head a few times trying to remember his conversation with his would-be captive. Then it hit him. “Baltimore, Maryland. Their castle is somewhere in Baltimore. Gather our troops. I want a city-wide search. Find that castle. We’ll tear the thing down brick by brick if we have to. I want them dead.”

  31 The Lower Mines

  The mines of Koldihr ran deep into the mountains and further below ground than any human had ever ventured. The tunnels were not crude holes in the ground, but clean and well-shaped with stone archways every so often for support. The archways were finely crafted stone embellished in dwarvish runes and scrollwork. Light was minimal except for the torches they carried with them.

  Kallan and Cyrus made their way along the crafted tunnel system. On occasion, they descended rope ladders and carved stone stairs. They had been walking for the better part of a day when they decided to stop for a rest.

  Cyrus took a seat on the ground and leaned against a wall. He opened his pack and pulled out a bottle of water. He offered one to Kallan who declined and instead drank from a flask from his own supplies.

  Cyrus capped the bottle and looked at where they had come and where they were going. “Any idea how close we are to the dwarf elders?”

  “Maybe another three hours.”

  Cyrus took another sip. “So why are you helping us? I know you disagree with your father’s decision, but you’re going against the wishes of your king.”

  Kallan took a seat on the ground opposite Cyrus and lowered his gaze. “I have eight older brothers. All of them are dedicated to our father. So much so, they would never question his decision, no matter what. Even in this case they have sided with him. Yet, what affects one world is bound to spill over into the other realms of Yggdrasil. We must have a way to imprison Fenrir or be prepared to defend ourselves. Since no preparations are being made, I feel it is my duty to protect our world. What about you? Your charge is to protect Midgard. Why are you here? With what you have told us about the dark sorcerers, aren’t you worried they will release more monsters during your absence?”

  Cyrus paused as he considered the past week and his decisions. “This is the third creature the dark sorcerers have attempted to release recently. Max and Meagan succeeded in preventing the release of Cerberus from the Greek underworld, but the rest of us failed to prevent the release of the Babylonian dragon Tiamat. Fortunately, she wants nothing to do with humanity and has since disappeared. Now we find out the dark sorcerers have secretly released Fenrir. We have no way to stop such a beast. Our only option was to find the dwarves and seek your help in making a new Gleipnir. As for other creatures, we still have friends back on Midgard. They’ll keep us informed of any trouble.”

  “The dark sorcerers seem to have a lot of information if they found three prisons in such a short time. How is it you didn’t know of their intentions?”

  Cyrus put his water bottle into his pack and stood. “Our Circle is new and we only have five members. Well, maybe four, we’re not sure yet. The dark sorcerers apparently know more about the prisons than we do. Right now, I feel like we’re just playing catch up. We can use all the help we can get at this point.”

  Kallan stood and slapped Cyrus on the back. “Well, if we survive this, you have a friend among the dwarves.”

  Kallan led the way down the next tunnel as he lifted his torch high above his head.

  A few hours later, Cyrus noticed the tunnel passage had changed. Its fine detail work was gone. These walls were rough and unfinished. Piles of dirt and rubble lay to the sides. They could hear the pounding of picks on stone as rubble became separated from wall, floor and ceiling. A dim glow illuminated the tunnel ahead.

  They entered a larger cavern to find thirty dirty dwarves hacking and pounding the stone, examining each piece and sorting it into metals, minerals, gems and dirt. As they entered, the activity ceased and all eyes focused on them.

  After a few minutes, one of the elder dwarves stepped forward. He eyed Cyrus and then Kallan. The dwarf pursed his lips upon recognizing the dwarf prince, but made no move to bow or show respect. “Why have you come here, princeling? And why do you bring a human with you? Do you need protection?”

  The other dwarves chuckled aloud. It was clear to Cyrus the king had little influence here. And Kallan had even less. As Cyrus looked around he noticed the tools they carried would also make formidable weapons in the right hands. And dwarves were known to be excellent fighters. Though he made no offensive move, he prepared himself for an attack if things went wrong.

  The lead dwarf elder eyed Cyrus from head to toe. “Your friend here thinks we mean him harm. Or he means to bring harm to us.”

  Kallan quickly looked at Cyrus then moved between them. “No. We mean you no harm. He is merely unfamiliar with our ways and doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

  Cyrus was uneasy about the situation, but decided it best to follow Kallan’s lead for now. He relaxed his hands and held his arms out to each side. “I’m sorry. I meant no disrespect. We need your help.”

  The brow of the lead dwarf shot up in surprise. “Ha. If you need our help, you truly are desperate. We are old miners. We are of little help to anyone.”

  Cyrus stepped around Kallan to address the old dwarf face to face. “My name is Cyrus Marx. I am a member of the New Circle from Midgard. The ferocious Fenrir of Norse mythology has been freed by dark forces. The binding known as Gleipnir has been destroyed. We need your help to make a new one or the people of my world will suffer.”

  The stoic dwarves whispered amongst themselves. The lead dwarf held up a hand and the whispering ceased. “My name is Sturlin Stonefist. I am sorry you have travelled all this way for nothing. The skills and spells needed to make such an item have long since been lost. Some of our number are among the most skilled smiths in all of Nidavellir, but we are no spell casters.”

  Cyrus knew the relations with the elves was tenuous at best, but he needed Sturlin to know how desperate they were for the magical ribbon. “As we speak, my sister and a friend of ours are acquiring the spells needed to make a new Gleipnir.”

  Sturlin stared at Cyrus through squinted eyes. “The only ones who know those spells are the elves of Alfheim. And they do not share easily.”

  Cyrus was determined not to falter in his belief in his friends. “Nevertheless, I trust my sister and our friend will find what they are searching for. But I need your help to make the ribbon.”

  Sturlin turned to Kallan, then stepped closer to the prince. “King Brodkir has agreed to this?”

  Cyrus feared Kallan would admit the king refused to help, but he also remembered how the old dwarf could tell with a mere glance that Cyrus was preparing for a fight. He didn’t want to lie to Sturlin, but he was desperate.

  Kallan brought himself to his full height, which was still a few inches short of the grey bearded elder. “He has refused to help the humans, but I believe this is a mistake. What affects Midgard will eventually have an impact on the other realms. It is my duty to protect Nidavellir at all cost. This is why I brought the human here to see you. This is why I defy my king and father. To protect my home and my people.”

  The frown on Sturlin’s face only deepened. He glanced around at the other dwarves before returning his attention to Kallan. “Too bad you’ll never be king, little princeling. You would’ve done a better job than your father.” His expression lightened as a smile appeared on his face and he let out a loud belly laugh.

  The other dwarve
s joined in the laughter and gathered around the newcomers. Many dwarves slapped Kallan on the shoulder and shook his hand. Though Cyrus was mostly ignored, he took a seat on a nearby stone to allow Kallan his moment of approval.

  When the ruckus died down, Kallan motioned for Cyrus to join him amidst his new friends. “I thank you for your kind words, Sturlin, but we need to begin work on Gleipnir.”

  The cheer on Sturlin’s face faded. “Alas, my prince. Even if your friends do retrieve the necessary spells from the elves, there is more to the magical ribbon. In order to forge a new Gleipnir, we must first obtain the six impossible items used to make the magical binding. Plus the great wolf would’ve grown stronger over the years. We must add one more ingredient. One that will be even more difficult to obtain—water from the well of Urd. In ancient times, the Norns would pour its water onto the roots of Yggdrasil to strengthen the tree.”

  “What’s so hard about getting some water from a well?” Cyrus scoffed.

  Kallan placed a hand on his shoulder. “The well of Urd is near one of the three roots of Yggdrasil and is guarded by the Nidhogg, a monstrous dragon-like creature, in addition to other dangers of the well. I fear this may be an impossible task.”

  Kallan turned back to Sturlin. “Is there no other way?”

  Sturlin sighed as his gaze drifted to the floor. Then he raised his head once again to meet Kallan’s eyes. “I’m afraid not, my prince. To forge a new Gleipnir without the added strength of the water would be folly. The wolf will have grown too strong.”

  Cyrus stepped forward in the moment of dismay. “Fine! Then we gather these items and take on this Pig-Hog. What’s the problem with finding one more impossible item?”

  “Nidhogg,” Kallan corrected.

  Cyrus glanced quickly at him. “Okay, Nib-hob, whatever. The big baddy. We can’t let Fenrir run loose on Midgard, Nidavellir or anywhere else. If this is what needs done, then I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

  Sturlin smiled at Kallan. “Your arrogant friend here has heart. Perhaps not brains, but he has heart.” He then addressed both of them. “I shall send members of my company to locate the impossible items. The remainder will prepare to battle the Nidhogg. We shall summon Ratatoskr, the squirrel of Yggdrasil. He is large enough to carry you all and can navigate the world tree. He will take you to the root where you will find the Well of Urd.”

  Cyrus leaned close to Kallan. “Let me get this straight, we’re going to ride a giant squirrel to find a well near the root of mystical giant tree so we can recreate a ribbon to tie up a giant wolf?”

  Kallan nodded confirmation.

  Cyrus hung his head. “Sounds like the opening to a bad joke. I’m afraid to hear the punch line.”

  32 Giza

  Max, Taryn and Radimir walked the streets of Cairo, Egypt, making their way through the crowded marketplace. Merchants aggressively peddled their wares as they pushed through the crowd. The sun beat down on a scorcher of a day. The dry sand blinded everyone as a strong wind whipped through the city. They realized too late their American clothing and trench coats made them stand out. Radimir kept asking of everyone he passed, “Osris? Osris?” But no one understood the harsh accent of the big Russian.

  A young man stepped from the crowd and approached Max. “Hello, friends. My name is Tiem. I believe you are looking for the Great Sphinx, are you not?” The Egyptian boy stood but an inch or so shorter than Max, yet looked to be in his late teens. He wore a full length white garment with a white rimless cap. Around his neck hung a thin gold chain with a gold Ankh.

  Taryn pushed past Tiem. “No, we’re not, but if ye can point us in the direction of the Tomb of Osiris, we’d appreciate it.”

  “I do not know why you seek the Osiris Shaft, but it is partway between the Sphinx and the pyramids on the other side of the causeway.” He pointed to the east. “I can take you there if you like.”

  “Nah, we can manage. Thank ye.” Taryn led the way through the crowd leaving Tiem standing in the middle of the street with a furrowed brow.

  “Maybe he could’ve helped us,” said Max looking over his shoulder at the young man fading into the distance.

  “Yeah, sure,” replied Taryn. “Hey Tiem, any idea where we find the immortal known as Ra? Odin said we could find him somewhere near the Tomb of Osiris. Somehow I don’t think that conversation would go over so well.”

  As they neared the Sphinx, Max stopped and stared at the massive limestone statue. The sculpture stretched over sixty feet high and two hundred feet long. The enormous lion body with a human head carved into the limestone bedrock was a marvel to behold, but Max was transfixed by the face.

  Taryn noticed his preoccupation. “Are ye rememberin’ somethin’?”

  “Not exactly. That’s the Sphinx? What happened to it?”

  “What do ye mean?”

  “This was once a statue of Sekhmet, the lion goddess. She protected the pharaohs and led them into battle. The daughter of Ra and a divine arbiter. She sat in the judgment hall of Osiris. Where the heart of the deceased was weighed on scales against a feather. If the heart was lighter than the feather, the soul was permitted to enter the afterlife. If not, it would be eaten by Ammut, the Devourer of Souls.”

  “I thought ye were Greek. How do ye know so much about Egyptian history?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Lovely,” said Taryn. “Shall we continue on to the tomb?”

  They split off from the crowds and crept along the causeway in search of an entrance to the Tomb of Osiris. When they came upon a hole cut in the limestone at the base of the walkway, they clambered down the passage only to find a metal gate.

  Max pointed an open palm toward it. “Pug nona—”

  “Wait!” Taryn grabbed his hand and pulled it away from the gate. “We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”

  She stepped forward and held a single index finger toward the lock. “Lo-toc altu rocom.” The lock popped and the gate slowly creaked open. Smiling, Taryn pushed the gate aside to find a deep shaft. She began the descent down the metal ladder installed by archaeologists for access to the tomb. Max and Radimir followed close behind.

  “Alecto orona na-see,” said Max. A glowing orb of light preceded Max as they headed down into the shadows.

  They descended into the first chamber. There they found another shaft leading further into the depths of the limestone bedrock. Following the second shaft, they lowered into another chamber lined with smaller, but empty rooms. A third shaft led further down into the darkness.

  Upon reaching the third chamber at the bottom of the Osiris Shaft, they were greeted by the remains of the Tomb of Osiris. Four large obelisks laid toppled, one at each corner of a giant black stone sarcophagus. The lid of the tomb was shifted to one side. Much of the chamber’s base was under water, including the sarcophagus itself.

  They made their way into the chamber, staying on top of the ruins, still above water level. The sarcophagus was larger than normal, almost nine feet in length. Max stared into the tomb. He wasn’t sure if he was waiting for a memory or searching for a clue, but something just didn’t feel right. He realized the place was a mess and figured, like the statue of Sekhmet, it had fallen into ruin. He held a hand over the sarcophagus and muttered, “Searo te-yon maku.”

  He retracted his hand. “There’s magic here. The base of the tomb has a false bottom that only magic can reveal. “Dim-tar mai secul.”

  A few seconds later the water in the tomb disappeared followed by the bottom of the stone tomb. A stairway led further down into the darkness.

  “How down we go?” questioned Radimir, rolling his eyes.

  “I wish I knew,” answered Max. “This place seems both familiar and wrong at the same time. I’m not sure why, but I get the feeling we’re headed in the wrong direction.”

  “This is where Odin told us to go to find Ra,” Taryn pointed out. “Why would he send us in the wrong direction?”

  “We’re talking about a t
en-thousand-year-old schizophrenic sorcerer who thinks Cyrus and the others had visited him tomorrow,” said Max. “Which inconsistent imbecile do you trust?”

  33 Dinner with the Elves

  The evening hours came quick. Meagan and Amber were asked to join the Lady of the Sacred Wood at her table for dinner. The clearing was circled by trees and fauna of all varieties. Carved wood with natural looking scrollwork along the edges, the table seated twelve including the newcomers. The ten elves spoke not a word. They merely awaited the food and proceeded to eat when it arrived.

  Meagan could see Amber eyeing the meal, but not touching it. The food did not resemble anything they had on Earth. Amber leaned close and whispered, “What is it?”

  “It’s fruit, now eat,” Meagan replied.

  “It doesn’t look like fruit.”

  Meagan gave Amber a wide eyed glare and placed some of it into her own mouth. Amber leaned away and proceeded to eat her food without further complaint.

  Between courses, Meagan took the opportunity to start a conversation. “My Lady, forgive me. I understand you have decided not to aid the dwarves in making a new Gleipnir, but I wish to understand how it is the elves and dwarves have come to such a bitter dislike for one another.”

  The Lady of the Sacred Wood regarded Meagan before answering. “You have lived all of your life on Midgard, have you not?”

  “I have.”

  “For this reason, I sympathize with your lack of understanding. There has always been a distrust between our peoples since before I can remember. After Ragnarok and the fall of the Asgardians, that distrust grew bitter. Once, the Aesir maintained the peace in the nine realms, now only Odin remains.”

  Meagan sighed. “We’ve met him.”

  “Then you know his mind is fragile and his wisdom has fled. None dare challenge him in Asgard, but outside his realm, his influence has diminished. Without a guiding force to maintain the realms, each have turned inward. Trust and cooperation are no more.”