Tarion sighed, “I hope you can disappear when you need to.”
“Stop worrying, Tarion,” Freya told him. “You’re the greatest hero of the age; the Norns won’t let you die at the hands of a mob.”
“That’s comforting,” Tarion grimaced, watching the crowd light the wood at the door. The flames roared to life and smoke curled about the balcony, but the door seemed unharmed. “You know, if that’s true they’re not doing themselves any favors,” he grumbled, as he retrieved the torch that one of the more exuberant members of the crowd threw at him. He put the fire out and shouted down at them, “What’s burning me out going to do? I’ve already done you service. I killed the monster that lived here and slew Gaurnothax for you! Doesn’t that count for something?”
The mention of the dragon reminded the townsfolk of the dragon’s hoard. They began clamoring for the location of the lair and the treasure.
“Now they want gold,” Tarion said.
The townsfolk demanded fifty chests of treasure in exchange for Tarion’s life. Freya shook her head and said, “Oh my, they’re greedy aren’t they? Well, that’s what dragon treasures do to people. Such wealth is best left to dragons; there are far fewer problems when people don’t have that much gold. Now what was I saying?” She took a sip of wine; apparently, she was not very concerned with the mob trying to burn them out. “Ah yes, Asgard and the Rainbow Bridge. You need to find a way to re-open it.”
“What? Oh, the bridge—and if I can’t?” asked Tarion.
“Then you have to wait for Odin to open it, or come down,” she said, taking a seat in the comfortable chair by the balcony door.
“I’m depending a lot on the AllFather it seems—too much.”
The burning wasn’t working. The door wouldn’t catch fire. Whether Keaorn laid enchantments on it or it was a durable wood Tarion didn’t know, but the townsfolk abandoned the blaze and began to build a rude ladder with the intent on storming the balcony.
“You’re probably right,” Freya admitted. “It’s best not to give father the upper hand in anything if you can help it. That gives me an idea; we might be able to accomplish both things at once!”
“I’m listening,” Tarion said, ducking out of the way of two arrows that splintered the smooth paneling of the wall.
“You might try Heimdall’s Horn,” Freya mused. “He was the watchman of the gate of Asgard and the Rainbow Bridge. Unfortunately, his horn was lost when he was slain on Vigrid, but it wasn’t destroyed.”
“Where can I find it? I assume it’s easily accessible, perhaps in Durnen-Gul, or one of the Nine Hells?”
“Oh no,” Freya exclaimed. “You can’t take something from the etherworlds, like Asgard, to the netherworlds or Durnen-Gul. It’s here in Midgard. The Horn was lost when Johaan the Giant King slew Heimdall on Vigrid. It would be in Johaan’s palace in Jotunheim.”
Tarion shook his head in disbelief, but as the makeshift ladder, really the tree they used as a battering ram with notches cut in it, thumped against the rail he went back outside. He pushed the tree off the rail. It slid down the side of the keep and it and the three climbers fell to the ground. He turned back to the Goddess. “Fine, I’ll pay Johaan a visit.”
“It’s on the way to Asgard,” she told him. “Don’t worry; you don’t have to storm the palace by yourself! Thor knows Johaan well enough.”
“He’s welcome to join me; who knows, maybe the Thunder God can talk some sense into these people. They’re persistent, I’ll give them that much,” Tarion said incredulously. The townsfolk were raising the tree again, this time the archers covered them. Several arrows skipped around the rail. “This couldn’t possibly get any worse!”
As soon as he opened his mouth, he knew it was the wrong thing to say.
A trumpeting roar sounded from below and out of the darkness came Hera Vora. She scattered the crowd. “Trespassers!” she exclaimed. “Away from my lands if you value your lives! How dare you disturb my repose!”
The crowd backed away.
“You do attract attention, Tarion,” Freya giggled.
The sound of horns drowned out Tarion’s curse. Up the ridge clattered a troop of knights carrying the duke’s banner. The duke himself was at the head of the company.
“What else can possibly happen?” Tarion groaned.
Trumpeting erupted from behind the duke and Hrolf appeared atop a mastodon. Aubrey sat behind him with several well-armed men. Alexandrus the wizard flew alongside on his carpet. Furge came after that on another mastodon with two more sylvan giants behind him. Everyone gathered at the base of the tower.
“Where is this Tarion?” demanded the duke.
A chorus of townsfolk pointed to the tower balcony.
“I charge you in my name to come down and relinquish the treasure. Then you shall answer to charges of bringing ruin upon us all!”
“That’s my treasure, mortal and these are my lands!” Hera Vora told the duke, filling up her lungs and tossing her head about angrily. “Tarion’s under my protection! Harm a hair on his head and I’ll eat you!”
“How did you earn the loyalty of a lady dragon?” Freya asked. “Can you shape shift?”
Tarion growled in response and the parties below began to argue.
“Well, you’d better do something, or this is going to get serious!” Freya urged.
“You’re the Goddess! Why don’t you do something?”
She shook her head and said, “If I remember correctly, the world was a nice quiet place before you came along. You’re the one stirring things up—I can’t interfere.”
Tarion turned to the throng below, now truly frustrated and angry. “Silence!”
A crack of thunder sounded and the ground shook.
“Did I do that?” Tarion muttered, dumbfounded.
“No, look!” Freya replied.
Everything stopped. At the top of the ridge was the shadow of an enormous figure.
Chapter 26: Thor
Lightning flashed overhead and the thunder rumbled through the mountains. It illuminated a chariot and the helmeted warrior within. Even if Tarion had not recognized the figure the people of Trondheim told him soon enough.
“Thor!” gasped the throng and they parted to allow the Thunder God through. Most of them bowed and made the charm of a hammer on their breast.
“What goes on here?” asked the Thunder God in a booming voice. “Are we roasting someone alive, or are we having a firelight dance as in the days before the Gods?”
There was a smattering of laughter and Freya joined Tarion on the balcony. She waved to Thor, saying, “Welcome, Brother, Tarion and I were sitting down to a nice quiet dinner when these fine folk showed up. Apparently, they want Tarion’s opinion on the dispensation of a treasure—and his hide as well.”
Thor looked up and laughed like an earthquake of mirth. “Hello Freya, what are you doing traipsing around with the Praetorian? He’s always attracting unpleasant company, or don’t you remember?” Turning to the throng and said, “How now good people, is the middle of the night the time for treasure hunting? What argument do you have with Tarion? He’s the Praetorian, you realize. He’s saved your skins more times than I can count. I daresay you have no argument with him; he is beyond reproach!”
A murmur went through the crowd as they reassessed their anger toward someone so esteemed by the Thunder God, but the duke spurred his horse to the chariot and complained loudly to Thor. “That may have been true in the past Father Thor, but this is not Roma—Tarion oversteps his bounds!”
Thor laughed again and glanced up at Tarion. “The Praetorian oversteps his bounds, are you in earnest duke? Whatever Tarion did it was because it’s the right thing to do—even when it goes wrong! He’s incorrigibly correct!”
The duke stared dumbfounded, but Thor just laughed. He stepped down from his chariot and stomped up to the door, kicking aside the burning wood and scattering sparks into the darkness. Craning his massive head to look up to the balcony, he calle
d, “Tarion, the night grows dark, do you want to conduct this business outdoors like druids by a council fire, or shall we take this into your tower?”
Tarion hurried down the stair and opened the door.
Thor laughed and clapped Tarion on the shoulder, pushing his way by and saying, “How are you, my young friend? Damn it’s good to see you again. It’s been years since we hoisted ale together.”
“It seems like an age,” Tarion told him.
“I suppose it has,” Thor sighed, picking up Tarion’s maimed arm with his meaty hand. “I see you’ve weathered that age, but just barely.” The Thunder God stroked his great red beard and walked across the chamber to a large mirror. “Yes, it’s been an age. You’re getting as weathered as a God. I haven’t gotten any prettier. It’s frightening, isn’t it?”
It was indeed.
Thor’s bushy red beard and the vibrant hazel eye were the same. His face still crinkled with laughter, but the duel with the Destructor changed him. The right side of Thor’s face was smooth but a thin web of scars coursed over his skin, marking it look as if it were an eggshell cracked almost to the point of breaking. A golden-scaled patch hid the eye.
His shock of red hair and beard were still vibrant with streaks of gold where one might see gray, but on the right side, the mane, beard and brow were devoid of color. The hair was a translucent white—ghostly and unnerving. One more telltale scar was apparent—an empty right sleeve tucked into his golden belt.
“It’s a wonder my Lady Syf can stand the sight of me,” Thor laughed again. “I’m not what I once was, yet that’s not all to the bad either.” Freya came down the stair and Thor hugged her. “You were always one step ahead of me. I can’t wait to hear what you’re up to now.”
Freya glanced at Tarion and sighed, “He’s been getting into trouble again.”
“That’s what he does,” Thor laughed. Then his expression turned more serious. “Now to business, what is going on here? From the looks of the town, they’ve had a rough day.”
The duke burst in and exclaimed, “Tarion brought the Destructor on my town, Father Thor! The treasure is mine by right! I task Tarion to hand it over and then quit my realm before the Dread Lord returns!”
Hera Vora’s head snaked in through the door and she nudged the duke, saying, “Use more civility, Lord of Trondheim, or I’ll make good on my offer!” Her venom dripped onto the stone floor with a sharp sizzle.
Tarion refused to insert himself into an argument that had nothing to do with him, so he shuffled over to the corner, sat down and poured some of Freya’s excellent wine. He didn’t do it justice, gulping it down like a parched man in a desert.
“This is my realm!” the duke insisted. “I only claim my rights as lord of these lands!”
Thor’s brow rose and he said, “So you’re going to dictate terms to the Praetorian of the Imperium?”
“The Imperium is no more!” the duke stammered. “He’s a vagabond with the mark of the Destructor on his brow!”
“Such marks are heartily earned, duke,” Thor told him sternly, pouring ale from his horn into a handy tankard. He put the tankard down, drew a poker from the fire and put the glowing end into the ale until it boiled, explaining, “It was a deucedly cold ride!”
Toasting the folk present, the Thunder God said, “Hearken to me, all of you. Curb your anger or you’ll awaken my own. Tarion here is one of the few among us, myself included, strong enough to give the Destructor an ulcer. In my book, that makes his presence a damned good thing! Do I hear any arguments?”
The duke bit down a retort and asked, “What about my treasure?”
“What treasure is this you keep blathering away about, duke?” Thor asked and his good humor appeared to be fading rapidly. “The world is falling in flames toward the culmination of Ragnarok and you’re dithering on about gold! My lord duke, did you play your fiddle today whilst Trondheim burned?”
“That’s the point, Father Thor!” the duke insisted. “This Tarion is responsible for destroying my city and so he forfeits any right to Gaurnothax’s treasure!”
“You did all that?” Thor asked, turning a single bright hazel eye toward Tarion.
“I had nothing to do with it; I was asleep,” Tarion replied.
“You did all this in your sleep?”
“Karkedon did,” Freya interjected. “Tarion only came in after the fact, drawing the Dread Lord and the dragon away and nearly getting himself killed in the process.”
“You’re a damn fool Tarion, facing the Destructor by yourself. What were you thinking?” When Tarion only stared at him blankly, Thor shrugged and turned to the duke. “Consider yourself lucky. If he hadn’t been such an altruistic fool, you’d be sleeping in the woods tonight—or in Durnen-Gul!”
“I’m willing to forgive his blood debt,” the duke said in a more reasonable tone of voice. “However, I still lay claim to Gaurnothax’s hoard.”
“What does Gaurnothax have to say about it?” Thor asked.
“Tarion slew him!”
“Really, well now that sounds like a hearty tale!” Thor beamed, showing a row of pearly white teeth. He found the largest chair in the room and sat down. Noting Freya’s pot of stew, Thor helped himself to the meat and ordered, “Let’s hear it!”
Tarion had no great desire to go through the tale, but he didn’t need to. Hrolf put himself forward and began an animated account of the battle, much to the chagrin of the duke and Tarion. Tarion finished his glass of wine, but before he could refill his goblet, Thor noticed his problem and filled it with ale.
“I hope you don’t mind mixing.”
“Tonight—not at all.”
Hrolf had many excited listeners and among them, Hera Vora and Aubrey tried to outdo each other with exclamations of delight. When Hrolf finished, Thor scratched his head and growled, “Pardon me duke, but I don’t remember your name being mentioned in the adventure.”
“I wasn’t there, Father Thor,” the duke admitted.
“That’s strange, very strange and yet you lay claim to the treasure?”
The duke gulped and drew back a step toward the door.
Thor took the duke’s eyes in his single hazel eye and Tarion could see there was no room for argument or humor in Thor’s mind. “If I remember correctly duke, and I know that I do, these have never been your lands, they were Gaurnothax’s—and they have been since before you were born. The treasure was his. By law and tradition, the only claim to it is the slayer of Gaurnothax—that’s Tarion here.”
As if his baritone voice needed any reinforcement, Thor motioned at Tarion with the head of Mjolnir, his huge iron-headed hammer. “Find a single incident in mortal, dwarf or elvish history that dictates otherwise. Well?”
The duke took another step closer to the door and seemed to shrink in size. He had no answer forthcoming.
“What do you say, Tarion?” Thor asked with an unmistakable hint of curiosity in his voice and his eye. When Tarion raised his brow in response, Thor added, “You’re the central character in all this, whether you like it or not. I don’t hold you at fault and neither should the duke, but only you can make amends here. What have you to say to all this?”
Tarion was about to get up and retreat into the tower. He’d just as soon leave the problems to the Gods, but the duke rankled him. He scowled and told him, “I claim the treasure, but not without admitting there’s been a great deal of grief on my account. I can’t ignore that. I’ll set things to right as much as I can.”
“In what way?” the duke demanded. “Half my town is burned and what isn’t destroyed will likely be this winter when the white dragons and giants attack!”
“I’ve already set aside part of the trove for Hera Vora and she’s agreed to protect your Duchy for the same tribute owed Gaurnothax.” Hera Vora looked the duke straight in the eye, putting her glossy scales within inches of the duke’s draggling mustache.
He swallowed hard and said, “I will live by your agreement with Hera V
ora and she may have her share. I still say the rest is mine.”
An idea struck Tarion and he stifled a chuckle. It was simple, diabolical and amazingly practical. “I’ve also set aside a portion for the temple at Gotthab,” Tarion smiled, moving over to Aubrey.
She put her hand over her mouth in surprise and stood quite still.
The duke blinked and said, “There is no temple in Gotthab. The place has been deserted for over twenty years.”
“The temple of the Druids will be rebuilt, duke,” Tarion said. Then his eyes narrowed and he added, “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to disappoint Lady Syf, or her husband, by refusing the temple, would you?”
The duke knew the repercussions of such a rash course of action, but asked, “Of course not, but who is to run to the temple? Will Lady Syf send us a stranger to guide these lands?”
“Not at all,” Tarion grinned wickedly and he put his arm around a blushing Aubrey. “Lady Syf has already chosen Aubrey, the wise daughter of Hrolf for the honor. As the Praetorian of Roma, I have approved this in the name of Empress Minerva.”
Aubrey forced a smiled, but whispered, “I’m going to get you for this, Tarion!”
The duke sighed, but said, “I’m sure that still leaves a sizeable amount.”
“Of which I’ve already promised much to the townsfolk for the ravaging of Trondheim. Hrolf, who’s known by everyone in town, has volunteered to handle the rebuilding effort, isn’t that right?”
Hrolf nodded vigorously. Tarion paused and said, “And then there are my own needs, which are modest, but as the slayer of Gaurnothax I’d be flaunting tradition to leave empty handed. As the Praetorian of the Imperium I have a healthy respect for tradition.”
The duke was furious, but he couldn’t do anything without alienating dragons, Gods, or his own people. “All that remains for me, then, is your banishment,” he said earnestly. “That is my right and I presently put it upon your head, Tarion!”
The Last Praetorian Page 28
