Eye of Hel: Stories of the Nine Worlds (Ten Tears Chronicles - a dark fantasy action adventure Book 2)

by Alaric Longward

  Disaster struck.

  The elven casters had been regrouping by the tent.

  They marched up and braided spells together, and I was far too weak to stop it from happening. Fifty spells reached for the charging human army. Whirlwinds of ice and fire ripped into them. Ice missiles tore holes into anything in their path. Red-hot streams of flames opened under the heaviest mass of men, scorching many to instant death. Hundreds died in an eye blink, men and elves both. The hill was truly burning. I concentrated and spent most of my strength gathering the ice wall spell. I took in as much crude, terrible ice as I could hold, and I let it rip out of my hands in a mad panic, for the elven maa’dark were again holding a huge amount of power and would have likely killed us all, near helpless, disorganized. The ice split the maa’dark group, slaying a few but hurtling many down the hill towards us and more beyond and away from us, out of sight. I put so much power into the spell the ice wall finally split the whole hillside with a resounding crack and a boom and the earth shook and shuddered beneath us. Elven troops were bunching around the tent now, five hundred or so ready to defend their lord. Ompar’s flag was burning, and then I spotted him screaming. I could not hear his scream, but he was holding his chest. Some hundreds of his men answered his call. I saw Ulrich was carrying Lex away. I did not see Dana. She must stay with Ompar; she must, I thought.

  Then I saw Albine was on her knees, vomiting. There was an arrow in her belly, and I screamed her name as I ran for her.

  I cradled her, and she turned to me. Sinnia was helping me, her eyes wide with horror. I grabbed the arrow and pushed it through her. She spat blood and shuddered, and I poured my heart’s full of healing into her. Her eyes went white from the pain. I swooned with fatigue and pushed her into the woman’s lap. ‘Take care of her. Get her to safety.’

  ‘Lady—’

  ‘Get her to safety!’ I yelled, and she nodded. I heard she was calling for some men to help her and looked up the hill. Where was Dana? We needed her. We had agreed she would help Ompar up the hill, but she was nowhere to be seen. I saw Ompar pulling at men, bunching them into a ragged shieldwall. Then, the elf I knew to be Danar Coinar emerged from the tent.

  And Dana was not there to help us survive the old elf’s powers.

  The lord was hurt. It was clear. He was bleeding profusely from a wound in his side, Cherry’s handiwork. Gods, let her live. Danar radiated power. He was looking around the hillside, a part of his army smashed and slain, and I could see he was calculating what it meant. His eyes turned to his son. ‘Well. Judging by the disguise of the Hand of Life, son, Hannea is in Lowpass?’

  ‘She is,’ Ompar said carefully. I could see some of the elven maa’dark that were not cut off get up. ‘She had no choice.’

  Danar chuckled. ‘She did not have a choice? I know you, and I know her, and I know neither one of you loves your dear father. Not at all. Tiria did, but she died, and I have been cursed with mongrels as children. You know this was a valiant effort, Ompar, but I have six thousand more warriors around the city. We can and will drag you out of that place. It was a mistake by your mother to give it to you to begin with. Where is the real thing?’ His eye sought me.

  Ompar looked down and saw me. We could never pass the enemy ranks. I stood up to my full height. Danar Coinar stared at me, and I stared at him. ‘Is there something you wish to say to the Hand of Life?’ I yelled at him. Dana. Where was she?

  He smiled. ‘You will marry me, Hand of Life. And we will have a surprise for the northerners,’ he called out. ‘Your friends will be confined here, in Lowpass and live out their lives alone and silent. My son will join them.’ He nodded at the corpses. Not the fort.

  I shook my fatigue away. It was time to do what Ompar had told me to do. ‘No,’ I yelled. The elven ranks shuddered, all tired but still ready to fight. ‘I’m married to him.’ I yelled and pointed a finger at Ompar. ‘He is the most powerful elf in Aldheim. He has the favor of the gods. He is to be the new Regent. Does someone wish to deny him?’

  Danar Coinar choked. His eyes sought Ompar, who was wiping his face free of hair and blood, tottering with wounds. He grinned at his father and his men. Ompar strode forward. ‘I outrank my father Danar Coinar. Step aside, and bow down to me, you traitors.’

  ‘Do it!’ I yelled.

  And many did. They actually did. Many elves stepped away from the ranks and the maa’dark, all nobles looked at the two powerful elves in confusion. ‘It’s a lie!’ Danar screamed, but one hundred or more elves actually left, fifty kneeled.

  ‘At them!’ Ompar yelled, knowing he had only a moment to spare. The men cheered, the humans charged, and the elven army shuddered with indecision and surprise. My eyes sought out Dana, desperately. Then I spotted her. She was crawling away from the battle, hurt. I ran to her, desperately stumbling across wounded and corpses as the men charged. The elves backed off, scattering, and Danar Coinar ran as well.

  ‘Father!’ Ompar screamed. ‘Come back here! Let us finish our many disagreements.’

  ‘Dana!’ I yelled. She turned to look at me while avoiding a frantic wounded elf thrashing on the ground.

  ‘Winded,’ she whispered. ‘Such a horrible battle. Did you see, I killed so many—’

  ‘Where is the Charm Breaker?’ I yelled at her as I spotted her cloak was gone, and a strap was hanging lose.

  She smiled, her gums bloody. ‘Oh, that. You keep worrying about Ompar. He is lucky, they are running. Yes, I lost it, Shannon. It was battle, and someone ripped it from me after I was hit by a flail.’

  ‘Will you live?’ I said and gathered healing spells. It was hugely draining, and I nearly lost consciousness, but I weaved the spell, and she groaned and went on her back, still hurt, but much better. ‘I’m fine.’

  I squeezed her arm. ‘Take her away!’ I yelled at some men. I noticed men and women were also running for the woods, to tell the tale of the day, and I wished them good luck. I ran for the top. Some ragged, torn men joined me to guard me, and up above I saw Ompar and his men strike at some stubborn elves defending Danar’s flight. Ompar’s swords were heavy, he was hurt and tired, but he was also determined. Then, the enemy was gone, running away. Ompar yelled in triumph, danced wildly on the top of the Black Ring. He grabbed a flaming branch of wood and tossed it into Danar’s tent.

  Men cheered, and Ompar fell on his face.

  ‘Ompar!’ I screamed.

  I rushed up the hill and went onto my knees by Ompar. I turned him around and saw he had a ragged wound in his chest. It had torn his mail apart. He was staring up at the sky as I clutched him. I was again dipping into the healing powers and again nearly lost consciousness as I did. I barely saw him and released the powers. I was burning with exhaustion. My veins were on fire. I was far beyond what a maa’dark should do, using mighty powers too often, even with Silver Maw around me. I felt horribly hurt; something broke inside me, and I screamed as I released the powers. The wounded around us gasped. Ompar shuddered with my healing power, and I sat there, in the mud, seeing nothing but black. Then I saw some light, then dark again; my head was throbbing. A hand grabbed me. It was Bulathon, his wounds freshly healed. He was pointing his finger, and I opened my eyes fully and looked down the hill. At the edge of the woods, humans were running. There were skirmishes with fleeing elves, but many men and elves were on the run and not interested in a fight. I saw Albine being carried there for the jungle, her red sigil pulsing. Far to the north, I thought I saw Cherry, looking up the hill in confusion. She had shed her spell, and her face was worried. I shook my head at her and pointed to the north. She hesitated, nodded, and disappeared. Thank gods, she was alive. Then I looked at Ompar. He was breathing, still bleeding, but I could not give more, not then. In fact, I felt like I was dying.

  ‘Lady,’ Bulathon said and pointed his finger to the road that led north. Around us, two hundred survivors of the army did as well.

  ‘The Black Ring! The Black Ring!’ they screamed, the few survivors of the mad, blood-sp
attered rush up the hill held by the lord of the south. Then they went quiet.

  A vast army of black and yellow armored elves was arriving. A huge flag of yellow hand on black was flapping prominently on top of the woods. There were eight thousand of them. At least. ‘What is that?’ I asked weakly. ‘House Vautan?’

  ‘No, lady,’ said Bulathon softly. ‘That is House Daxamma. Danar’s allies.’

  My heart fell. I sat there, and the humans turned to look at me. I got up, finally, bleeding inside, I was sure. ‘Carry him back. Take our wounded to Lowpass. And I need fifty men who will flee this place. Many left already, but you get fifty men to go forth to villages and cities and valleys and mountains and those men must tell how humans broke an elven army here this day.’

  In the end, a hundred went, for families had followed their men to the tower. The rest followed us back to the Lowpass, where thousands of civilians would be protected by hundreds of humans.

  We had won, but it had been a temporary victory.

  CHAPTER 11

  I was hurt. Badly hurt. Despite the many other wounded screaming for help, I could not help them. Grasping at healing powers was impossible. I rested, suffered from pains and slowly healed myself, bit by bit. While the wounded were being taken care of by their despairing families, I slept side by side with Ompar most of that week. The Ten Tears were mending, Bulathon told me and their wounds were—miraculously—minor. Albine was lost. I had seen her dragged off, and perhaps she had survived after all. Perhaps she would get her war after all.

  Finally, after a week, I managed to visit the sick wards and healed men and women for two days. Many dozens had died during the time I had been unable to move, and I saw bitter tears on the faces of those families who lost their loved ones. I wept and cursed my weakness, but even Silver Maw had its limits, and I was shuddering with fatigue. I felt like I was dragging myself from room to room.

  But he lived.

  Ompar lived.

  He was weak and unconscious, and in some pain, but also resting and recuperating. It was the second time I had saved him, and I begged to the gods there would not be a third time. I’d sit with him in his high tower room, and I would hold his hand for days and nights.

  The war slowed down. The elves were worried about something, and they did not attack. Instead, they thickened their defenses and prepared to take Lowpass. The elven burial fires burned long days into the night, and each was a surprisingly sad affair. The human corpses were thrown into the chasm.

  Ulrich led the defense of the fort.

  We abandoned the outer towers and lined the walls with siege gear to cover the bridges. The towers were filled with the remaining men, archers, and hot, scorching oil that could be poured at a moment’s notice. We still had a bit over five hundred men, though only a hundred of them veterans of the Black Hill.

  It was a week of fear.

  I walked for Ompar’s room after a brief visit to the infirmary. I saw a meek, nervous servant in the hallway, and she bowed to me. She held a pitcher of wine, and I nodded her my way. ‘I would have some,’ I told her.

  ‘It was meant for Lord Ompar,’ she said with respect. ‘Is he able to eat yet?’

  ‘I do not know,’ I told her and took her wine. ‘I thank you. I will take it to him.’

  ‘Yes, mistress,’ she said and bowed again. She was pale and afraid, and I could understand her. There was little hope for survival.

  For them, at least.

  I held his hand as I stared out of the window that night, noticing Danar Coinar’s new tent was next to that of what was sure to be Marxam Daxamma or a general of the dreaded Daxamma army. The bloody hill was well lit, and I could see great preparations going on. ‘Will the men fight?’ I heard Ompar ask weakly. He was smiling on the bed, trying to adjust his pillow. His upper body was uncovered, and a thick scar ran across it.

  ‘They will,’ I told him with sorrow. ‘There is no other way. Unless they wish to die on their knees. They won’t, not after the victory. It would shame them.’ I smiled at him, relieved. ‘You did well.’

  ‘We took the Black Ring,’ he said with wonder. ‘Imagine. Elven regiments held it. Red Hearts, veterans of the southern wars. I’m almost proud. Even if the annals will call me a traitor. Or likely, they just wipe my name from history.’

  ‘They did not expect to be attacked,’ I told him fondly. ‘Not with magic. And they didn’t expect your idea.’

  ‘It worked, but the price was terrible,’ he said and smiled sadly. ‘Your friends?’

  I shrugged. ‘Albine is lost, and Cherry, of course,’ I said softly. ‘Both might be alive, though. I saved Albine’s life. They carried her to the woods.’ I nodded to the vast jungle. ‘Many men escaped the war. They will tell people about the Black Ring and Scorpion’s Bridge. The enemy will have a hard time denying these battles.’

  ‘Enemy,’ Ompar sighed. ‘Yes. I suppose that is true. But they will try,’ he said sadly. ‘You are right. People will know. Elves will have to adapt to humans in the south, or one or the other will cease to exist here.’

  ‘It will be a bloody hard road,’ I told him sadly and took a deep breath. ‘Albine will get her war. She will avenge us.’

  He looked at me dubiously. ‘We won, right? What do you mean avenge—’

  I nodded towards the jungle. ‘There are thousands of Daxamma troops out there. Thousands. We have five hundred men.’

  ‘Daxamma?’ he asked, holding his head. Birds were singing, and I could hear people calling out in the yard. Ompar stared out of the window and rubbed his face.

  ‘How will we save the fort? There are families in here,’ I asked and got the answer I feared.

  ‘We won’t,’ he answered, his eyes full of sorrow, and he blinked many times to control his fear. ‘Their blood is on my hands. At least some escaped, but you cannot escape unless Hannea gives you a disguise, and you are lucky. She might. But they will be very careful now. There are many spells to detect such spells, and they will be very, very paranoid.’

  ‘They will,’ I agreed. ‘We lost the Charm Breaker as well.’

  ‘That makes Father happy,’ he said sullenly. ‘Lost it? You should not have—’

  ‘I did, I gave it to her. It gave us victory,’ I said sternly.

  ‘It would have been important when you meet Cerunnos,’ he said. ‘It could have saved your life. It could make a difference between victory and me losing you.’

  I smiled at him and held his hand. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘For being cooped up here with you, helpless?’ he asked. ‘Give me my ship and this would end well. But I cannot … leave the people. No matter if they distrust me now. Strife?’

  ‘Didn’t see him,’ I said. ‘He wasn’t there in the battle.’

  ‘Gods, I hate him. So much. As much as I do Father,’ he whispered. ‘I wish he had been a friend, instead of hating me. That’s a stupid wish, I know.’

  ‘It’s a good wish,’ I grinned. ‘A proper wish.’

  ‘Bah,’ he smiled. ‘I only hope he will die the same day I do.’

  ‘Let’s hope he lives forever, then, Ompar Coinar,’ I placed my hand on his cheek.

  ‘Hope,’ he chuckled. ‘I think I will die unhappy and broken and a failure.’

  ‘You gave us a chance to change our fates and yours,’ I told him. ‘We could not have done anything without you giving us everything.’

  ‘I did give you everything.’ He laughed. ‘But in truth, I had nothing worth keeping. I was a pirate. Still am. Now I am married to the Hand!’ he laughed again. ‘Gods know what the elves will think about our … union. That will also be heard across the lands.’

  ‘You did make them wonder.’ I grinned, stroking his hand gently. ‘It was a great idea,’ I said.

  He chuckled. ‘They faced the Hand of Life and her supposed husband, the First Elf of Aldheim, and I can imagine the hardship Father is going through with his subjects to make them believe it is a lie.’ He roared with laughter and soon regrett
ed it as pain raked him. ‘If we had appeared in the Feast of Fates like that, married, imagine what they all would have said. My, but they would have made us rich with bribes.’

  ‘What does it take to be married in Aldheim?’ I asked, amused by his mirth. ‘Do you have priests? Do you have a shrine where you gather, and someone blesses the marriage?’

  He blushed. ‘We consider marriage a special, private matter. You sign a contract because the world has to know, and there is the heritance to be shared in case of death, but the actual marriage is a matter of … private … you know. You have an encounter.’

  ‘An encounter?’ I asked.

  He rubbed his face. ‘I tried to tell you. If you marry Bardagoon, you must sign a contract, and he will sleep with you. That is how it is done. It is a special, gentle way of bonding. The contracts go forward after. One is sent to the Archives for safekeeping, one you keep, the last one goes to your house records. But then the couple retires and loves under the two moons, and when Mar comes out, you are married.’

  ‘If one dies, can the other one remarry?’ I asked, and rubbed his hand gently.

  ‘Yes,’ he said softly. ‘Why?’

  ‘I know it makes no difference now,’ I told him, shuddering with fear and indecision. ‘None at all. Your father will not let us go. He will come here, and everything will be buried and changed, and things will go ill for everyone. And I feel so very sorry for Lex. I don’t understand love. It just … is. It is born out of nothing and dies with a struggle. And I think I would like to marry you before they come. If you can marry again after your wife dies, then I would like to have you. Can you draft the contracts?’

  He hesitated and looked to the ceiling. ‘I—’

  I put a hand over my mouth. ‘Oh! I didn’t realize! I’m a damned fool. You don’t want—’

  He shook his head and grasped my hand. ‘I do. By Odin’s curled beard I do.’

  ‘Odin’s curled beard?’ I asked with relief that I tried to hide under a chuckle. ‘Romantic. I can imagine a curly beard right now, and perhaps curly chest hair. Sweaty hair. That is—’