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

by Alaric Longward

  I stopped. Far, far away, I could hear shouts. There was something happening somewhere, and I thought I heard Almheir screaming a curse. I nearly turned around, but then I felt a cold corpse right at my back, and I walked on instead. Whatever was taking place outside, it did not matter.

  I passed the brazier, gathering no joy from it. Indeed, the horrific rot and decay of dead elves was all the more apparent in the light, and I gagged and felt sick as I walked. ‘She is a toddler. Weak. Human,’ a voice whispered.

  ‘She will sit at the end of the table, she will,’ another answered, and I glanced at women who had died long ago, for elves at least, hundreds of years past. They were eyeless, missing parts of their bodies, one an arm, the other a leg, but their hair was still lustrous and long, strangely free of dirt. They likely combed it, I decided.

  I saw a throne appear from shadows at the end of the hall, elevated and tall. It was not golden, nor silvery, but tall and plain and wooden, carved with entwined trees. A god’s seat. Simple. I briefly wondered if the lust for gold was an elven passion and not of the gods at all, but then I dismissed the thought as hands groped at me, pushing me, and I struggled not to pull my sword.

  On the throne was hunched a tired, dead figure.

  Timmerion. Cerunnos Timmerion.

  It, for it was not truly an elf, emanated strange power. It was full of malice, yet seemed somehow desperate, for it was shaking its head. A horned crown was resting on top of a long, rotten skull; the hair reached around the throne in dark coils, and the figure was armored in golden, dirty plate. It was holding a huge, deadly looking two-handed sword with one near skeletal hand, the blade glittering dully, and it was clutching at something else with the other. Its face was dry, lips cracked and bones shone through its cheeks, but this one had eyes still, crimson and unholy as it stared at me walking. I clutched the sword pommel frantically.

  ‘A young human?’ it asked with a guttural voice. ‘Why?’

  I kneeled, some ten feet away, and the throng behind me stopped in shuffling confusion. ‘Lord Timmerion. I am the Hand of Life.’

  ‘Lady Hand of Life,’ it breathed and managed to sound somewhat bored. ‘A human Hand of Life? Oh, the elves and their humiliation. They must work hard to change you into an elf after your demise. They will. Just a matter of writing it up like that.’

  ‘I shall endeavor to remain around to refute any such lies,’ I shivered. ‘Would you like to be relieved of your curse? Gods would give you mercy.’

  ‘I?’ the elf laughed, hollowly. ‘Relieved of this lovely hall? No. And the gods will give me no mercy, human. I paid good treasure for the Eye of Hel, you know. I parted with gold, silver and heaps of jewels. I also paid coin for the thief to frame the fool gods as the thieves. And so, it was the goddess Hel who thought it was the gods who stole the Eye for Baldr. They did not. They will give me mercy? No. They will not give me mercy. Never mercy. Pain. Humiliation. Death after death, and then more death. That I will have. Thank you for asking, though. I must decline.’

  ‘What?’ I asked, so shocked the pack of living dead behind me was momentarily forgotten. ‘You did not steal it. You kept it and—’

  It growled strangely. ‘I did order the theft! You think I have grown senile? I wanted the Eye. It was a magical thing, they said filled with powers, and then it was mine. And yes, I had the gods blamed for it. And I know Hel would have blamed them anyway. Baldr was dead, and in her halls, a trophy for her, and then the Eye disappeared? She will never believe the gods did not pay Euryale to steal it, Hand. But I had paid for it and bugger the gods!’

  I shook my head slowly. ‘You said they told you it is filled with powers? Who—’

  He interrupted me. ‘She suggested it. War followed. It was a beautiful carnage. Terrible. Hel got very upset and tried to punish the worlds and the gods. I took the Eye and then stole something else as well, but it seems I cannot let go of this now. I cannot give it away if I wanted to. And I do not.’ It stared down at its palm. It shook itself, perhaps in regret. Skin crackled, dust fell from its lips.

  ‘She is Euryale? And they are the Gorgons? Her sister Stheno and her, right?’ I asked.

  He sat there sullenly, slouched on the throne, unwilling to answer. He did, finally. ‘Greed!’ the undead lord snickered. ‘It was greed that made me heed Euryale’s and Stheno’s words, aye. They told me of the Eye, how it granted one magic, how precious and beautiful it was and how I would never be blamed if I only took a chance. They were living with me at the time, in the Gray Downs. And here we are. I am stuck here. She is stuck here. Still is, I think. Euryale. I smell her in you; I do.’

  I felt cold shivers travel down my spine. Euryale and Stheno had made Cerunnos mad with greed? I hazarded a question. ‘Hand of Life is to return the Eye to Hel, Lord, and regain the Horn from her. I would do this. If you allow me—’

  He chuckled. It was a dry, clacking sound, which was infectious enough to make the court laugh as well. The sound was long and terrible, and I clutched the fine sword on my side with desperate strength. I sensed many of the dead were harnessing spells and cursed, as I did not know what to do.

  Cerunnos smiled, a hideous, toothy sight. ‘You have spoken with the bitch, have you not? She has lied to you like she lied to me. But then, most everyone has heard that lie, all across the realms because we blamed the gods, didn’t we? Hear me, Hand of Life. And learn the truth. Or would you rather not? I have learnt it is better to die ignorant. But then, the few Hands who we have here didn’t want to die ignorant either. I am betting you wish to know the truth.’ He gestured at my predecessors behind me, but I did not look at them.

  ‘Speak, then, oh lord of the rot,’ I told him bitterly, knowing the truth would punish me like the Horn had sundered the worlds. I had the shield, I reminded myself. I should prepare and surprise him. But I was also curious.

  He sat back, weary. ‘We lied to the Nine Worlds and misled Hel and the gods as well. I enjoyed the chaos, for I could grow more powerful in Aldheim as my foes fell in the war. Many did. The gorgons were not happy with the Eye, of course, but convinced me to take the horn of Heimdall. To steal from the god was risky. It risked exposure. But I was worried about losing the eye and terrified of the gods you seem to champion. I took a risk. Gjallarhorn became mine.’

  ‘How?’ I asked him. ‘You stole the Horn?’

  He snorted. ‘Gods. You know little about them?’

  ‘I have never met one, Lord,’ I said.

  ‘Of course not,’ he smiled, and the flesh on his chin tore. ‘Heimdall loved elven women. I gave him many. One stole the horn. It is that simple. The Sundering of the Nine is due to the lust of a god.’

  ‘I see,’ I said. ‘And the greed of an elf.’

  He waved a hand, clearly unhappy about his earlier confession of being greedy. ‘The sisters, the First Born Gorgons who lived in my Twisted Tower of Gray Downs, devised terrible lies. The Nine Worlds felt the heavy strike of Hel’s War, and gods were gathering strength, but slowly. I had the horn. I had it blown on each world, on each gate, and the last gate shut here. The gods were shut off. The worlds could not be reached unless I had the Horn blown on the gates again. I wanted Aldheim to myself. All to myself. Hel’s armies raged everywhere, but I defeated them in Himingborg. How?’

  ‘By magic?’

  He laughed and his chest rattled. ‘No magic can defeat gods. They say Hel shut the gates to keep me from taking Nifleheim, but no. I shut her off. That is how I defeated her hordes. They were not reinforced. We slowly killed them off, and it cost us so much. But I didn’t care for lives, no.’

  ‘What happened then, Lord?’ I asked, wondering how the few had caused so much grief.

  He waved his hand in dismissal. ‘What happened? Euryale betrayed me and so did Stheno. They always wanted to. They wanted the Horn. They raised Gray Downs to rebellion with their slaves and took the horn from my dead daughter in a feast. She blew the horn on the gate of her own world. Armies poured in. We were already w
eakened. No gods could help us. Stheno and Euryale attacked us. Yet, they did not really understand what had happened to me. I was … like this. Dead. Powerful. Beyond them. The Eye more than killed me. It cursed me. It ate me inside. It made me superbly horrible and powerful in Glory. It took tens of thousands more dead elves, but I defeated them as well. I drove Stheno away to their world, which is not Niflheim, their favorite lie, human. Yes, I see she told you this. I kept the Eye. I kept Heimdall’s Horn, which I took from Stheno at the gate to their world and shut it off again. I blew it. I did. I have it here!’

  ‘You have the horn?’ I asked with a small surprised voice.

  ‘Yes, of course!’ he said. He stared at me with pity, and his voice was nearly sympathetic as he looked at me. ‘Dear girl. Your Euryale does not want the Eye. She desires the Horn. They say goddess Frigg had a dream that a fool would one day restore the Eye and the Horn. Know it?’

  ‘Euryale had it recited to me once,’ I said.

  ‘Euryale,’ he said with a smile. ‘A human Hand. You are their creature, but more of that later. I find I enjoy talking to you. Can you recite the prophecy to me?’

  I did.

  ‘The Eye of the Crow,

  from Hel’s face shorn.

  The gods are gone, for the Horn is lost,

  and both will be found at a great cost.

  An awkward fool,

  will dance with the twisted ghoul,

  the Cold Hand shall seek the tools,

  and argue over love’s curious rules.

  The Pact of the sister is fulfilled,

  the false god wickedly thrilled.

  The Horn shall blow,

  freedom for those below.’

  I had not thought about the words. Not really. I noticed Cerunnos’s red eyes were flashing as he looked at me. Finally, he spoke. ‘Frigg is goddess of wisdom. Like all Aesir females, she possesses the skill of seidr, of seeing. I suppose the sister is Stheno, and they will eventually regain the Horn. The question, Shannon, is whether you are this … Cold Hand? Or even a fool.’

  I was thinking about my silvery sigils. Perhaps, I was. And Ulrich had called me a fool. But then, that had been enough of a proof for the desperate Euryale though not necessarily true. ‘I do not know, Lord Cerunnos.’

  ‘I do wonder if the time has come,’ he said testily. ‘I do wonder. Euryale needs the Horn. She has sown chaos in the world again; I sense it. Wars. Evil. She wants Aldheim, and she will have it, or at least a way home again to her sister. Likely both.’ He put away his sword and grasped at a dusty thing at his feet and shook it ferociously until the silvery glow became evident from under a layer of heavy dust. It was a beautiful thing, a curved, silvery horn with a golden lizard, a dragon perched on top and brilliant chain ran in rivulets to the dust. ‘I took it. I took it so I could keep the Eye. I took it and shut down the bastards to Asgaard and Vanaheim, and I closed every single damnable door I could find, and that is all of them, all across the worlds. They did not see it coming, the high and mighty. And so I sit on the throne.’ He looked at me, his eyes burning, and I felt ripping fear. ‘And I intend to sit on the throne in the future.’

  ‘Euryale tricked us all, even the gods and goddesses,’ I whispered. ‘Poor Hel as well.’

  ‘Poor Hel?’ he snickered. ‘Hel was shut out, yes. She is mad, pained. She is far and near.’ He giggled and stared down at his palm. ‘Aren’t you, dear? Yes.’ He looked up at me. ‘I don’t think she listens to me anymore.’

  ‘Where is Euryale from?’ I asked the dead lord.

  ‘Where? Why do you care? You will hear the stories here while we feast, you will. But very well. The gate to Svartalfheim was the last gate to be shut, girl, the one they opened to take the land, and I shut it again. And there, my dear …’

  ‘The gate in Himingborg?’

  The thing cackled. ‘Yes! The one in the city, before the Citadel of Glory.’

  ‘Did you make us?’ I asked it.

  ‘Eh?’ he said, dust spilling from his ears.

  ‘Did you give humans the power of the Glory? You tried to create your own world,’ I whispered. ‘The Tenth. Ours.’

  ‘I?’ he chuckled. ‘Oh, you are their creations. Euryale’s and Stheno’s. Mainly Stheno’s.’

  ‘You made us. You made Earth.’

  He grinned hideously. ‘No, another lie. They lie like children. Yes, I know. I worked with them and gave them means for wondrous research of the Glory. Stheno was very adept in the spells of the gates. They told me later the Gorgons took a world for themselves and did not tell me about it. Imagine, inside my own tower. They used my people, my humans to take and hold it. They built the gate from the bottom of Twisted Tower, and Stheno did something to give some humans the ability to Embrace the Glory, Shannon. I would have never given humans power. I shut that gate as well. She used the Tenth to conquer my home, your ancestors to take the Horn for herself. I made sure that land was shut off.’

  He had closed the gate to Earth. He had us abandoned there, I thought. ‘She can still reach us on a certain date,’ I said.

  He shrugged. ‘It was a strange gate,’ he allowed. ‘A strange one. Perhaps I only managed to disrupt it. Perhaps it was only Stheno who knew how to use it properly and Euryale was left licking her claws, clinging to some small vestiges of information she gleaned from her books. She is the shadow; Stheno was the might. Yet, she is not entirely terrible in the art, as you are here. Clever, the Gorgons.’ He chuckled dryly. ‘After I defeated them, split Stheno from Euryale, she only had a dragon to keep her safe. But if she found the Hand? If she killed any that were elven and hoped one of Stheno’s would hear the healing winds? She could upset this world again, gain tools amongst the elves, and she would challenge me. I wish I could fight her again. I do. But she believes this prophecy is true and will not show her face. Ah, to fight her once more.’

  ‘You can—’ I began with hope.

  He scowled, dust, skin and meat dropping from his forehead. ‘But I won’t.’

  ‘Why?’ I asked with desperation. ‘We could be allies. We have all been deceived.’

  ‘Because I don’t wish to. I don’t wish to leave my home, a former hall of a god. This is my place. It’s all I have. I’ll keep the Horn and the Eye, girl. And, besides, not one of the elves truly wishes these artifacts returned.’

  ‘Some do,’ I said.

  He grinned and laughed dryly. ‘No. Only fools do. Why else do you think they have this silly legend of none from Aldheim can enter this hall but the Hand? They did send some Hands here, the more religious ones, the ones who would not take a simple no for an answer. They made up these lies because they enjoy their power games, their wars. I know. I was one of them. Freyr, girl, would have little patience for these wars and would make them suffer. They don’t want the Eye returned. They don’t know the Horn is here.’ He went quiet and smiled at my confusion. ‘And here you are. Human Hand. Both an asset but also a nuisance to the Regent. Let me guess. He married you and then sent you here to die. He pretends you are with him in his wars, and here you will fall in silence. Lies, life is full of them.’

  ‘Life?’ I said coldly. ‘Unlife. Full of lies.’

  He pointed a finger at me. ‘The elves outside? They have left. There was a commotion, no doubt your grieving friends were killed or taken if they are useful, and they left guards, just in case, but they are not waiting for you. No.’

  ‘They are not there?’ I asked him enraged. Almheir? Betrayed me? Anyone could enter? They all knew it. The high ones. ‘Lies.’

  He grinned, a hideous sight as the dried flesh on his cheeks flapped. ‘Let us see. Let us see if you are correct. Oh, look at this.’ He cast a familiar spell, one Euryale had once cast, weaving fire and cinders, and a life-sized fire figure of Almheir sprung to life. ‘Memory flame,’ he whispered. Almheir was talking with Anja. ‘This will do,’ the dead elf said. ‘Yes.’

  The Regent was staring around as the battle raged, and I knew it was the day we had
fled Himingborg. He nodded at three maa’dark and turned to Anja, and then I saw Hannea. ‘It is settled then. You will join them, my enemy. You will be disguised and careful. Much will depend on you. You will open the gate for us when the time is ripe.’

  ‘That is my skill,’ Anja said with a bow. ‘I can open anything. But it will not be easy getting near the gate.’

  Almheir clasped her shoulder. ‘Open the gate to the palace, lower the bridges, and we have a chance. We shall be there in a few days. Take this,’ he said and gave Anja a stone of no color, shifting and strange. ‘I will tell you what to do, and how.’

  ‘And in return?’ Anja asked.

  ‘Riches, glory,’ he stated.

  ‘And?’ she said.

  ‘When Shannon dies,’ he said with no emotion in his voice whatsoever, ‘you will have a place in my lands.’

  Anja hesitated. She licked her lips and looked down. ‘More.’

  Almheir looked disgusted for a moment but finally nodded. ‘And her sister. Dana. You will decide on her fate. Though I do not know why.’

  ‘Because they are both to be blamed for my brothers’ deaths. I will have no peace otherwise,’ Anja said softly.

  ‘Peace …’ Almheir said with a wistful smile. ‘Peace by blood. You will make a good elf, Anja. Deal.’

  Anja looked down. ‘Deal.’

  ‘She might survive? Shannon?’ Hannea asked. ‘She is—’

  ‘Lost,’ the Regent said sadly. ‘She must be lost. She has to be lost anyway.’ He looked at Anja and bowed. ‘One human maa’dark is risky enough. Two, I can stomach if we are careful. Yes, I will spare your Ulrich as you asked, Anja. But Shannon will die with Cerunnos. It is so. She will have no chance at all.’

  ‘You said you will give her the shield,’ Hannea said. ‘It will—’