“Ruugatha. The Toppling of the Throne,” she said.
“Ruugatha, the game of throne toppling is the law. Kings and queens hold power, and when one falls, the new power gains rights to the throne, and keeps it for themselves or appoints another who obeys them. That is how Stheno rules. She has filled all the Eight Cities and their thrones. Take the throne, kill the occupant, and you rule. That is the one rule. Svartalfheim is the land without a sky, and the richest land—”
“See,” she said happily. “You got it.”
“But why do I have to know all this?” I asked, perplexed. “I’m not going to topple thrones or—”
She slapped my hand. Look, you don’t have to get everything,” she hissed. “It’s enough you know about some of it. You must.”
“Don’t you know Svartalfheim? This Scardark?”
She smiled. “Yes, Scardark, the capital of Vastness, the great cavern. The city of Five Thrones and the Throne of Scars where the ruler rules over all of Vastness, I—”
I interrupted her. “See. You know everything. Why must I?” I complained, feeling exhausted. “You have been explaining the birth of the world and its customs. I’m not sure what use that will be in helping us find the Horn. And Dana, if she is there to be found. You guide me, after Shannon figures out what is happening in the land, eh? You will do it. I’ll follow, fight when I must, and die with you, as we probably must. The stories bore me to death before we even enter the hold of shadows.”
She poked me painfully. “I love those stories.”
I rubbed my face. “I’d learn to love them if things weren’t so grim,” I said, and the dangerous female moved closer. I tried not to flinch as the snakes licked the air next to my ear.
“Fine. No stories of intrigue or the distant past. But you must learn of the Scardark, at least. You must know some of the ways and the customs. At least enough to survive.”
“You will—d”
She grasped my cheeks in a vice-like grip. “I know the tunnels. I know Dark Water, the cavern where my kin live. I’ve never been to Scardark, never seen the Throne of Scars of the great dark elven cities of Vastness. We don’t often go there. We occasionally join Svartalfs in war; sometime go against some fool who offended Eris, our Queen, but rarely fight in the open wars of the cities. I can guide us to it, but if I die? You really need to learn.”
I hesitated. She might die, yes. She was right. I removed her hands from my face. “Look. I’ll try to learn enough, but I never went to school,” I muttered. “I was a tradesman, a thief, until Napoleon made life hard in the part of Austria I lived in. The Frenchies burned our town when they marched through it on their way to Vienna. I can read, I can write, thanks to Cosia’s spell that night we arrived in Aldheim, but I shall try. Just not the whole history of a world! None of the small details on the cultures, arts, or the origins of mighty spells.” I stretched over the couch and thumbed the great stack of books. “I see what you are doing, and thank you, but—”
“She’s right,” Thak rumbled, while cutting his fingernails into a sharper form with his sword. My eyes went to a cauldron he had set precariously on the railing. It was filled with a steaming broth. “Stop complaining, man up and listen to her.”
“What have you brewed?” I asked him, my belly rumbling.
He lifted a dark eyebrow. “You sure you wish to know?”
I frowned, and Ittisana giggled. “Is there human or elf in it?” she asked.
He smiled and shrugged. “A dash of this, a dash of that,” he chuckled. “But none of those.”
We ate well.
He served us huge plates of a dubious stew that was both sweet and salty, and I had a hunch he had rarely cooked anything, but still, it was passable, save for the occasional clumps of burned meat.
“Next time, stir it,” Ittisana murmured with a smile.
“Bah,” he laughed.
I finished and sighed. “I wonder if Shannon would allow us to stay here,” I said, depressed with the inevitable return to the Citadel of Glory.
“No,” Ittisana said simply. She sighed, and took out a blue book of glowing covers. “We’ll skip the legends of the dverger. I’ll not speak of the rituals of the clans, or the past wars, peace, and why the world is such as it is. It is full of life, with war over resources and Scardark; the great home of the Svartalfs is the hub of it. At least of the known world. This is the center of the Below.”
“Below?” I asked her, chewing on something Thak had thrown at me, and I thought it was fruit, or maybe strange meat. “Does that mean there’s an Above?”
She shrugged. “In the beginning of the world, the Above was separated from Below. The Throne of Scars and the Scepter of Night are the marks of the kingship of the Below.”
“Why scars?” I asked. “Just curious.”
She smiled. “Ruugatha. The throne is scarred from attacks.”
Thak muttered. “I bet none take it off Stheno, though. I bet there are no scars since she took it.”
“Not easily,” Ittisana said softly. “She took it the year Hel’s war began. Some thousands of years past. Much longer for you of the Tenth,” she smiled.
“What’s Above?” I asked again.
She waved a hand. “Beneath Below, the dverger live in the depths of the lands, in places where few other living beings have walked. Those lands are where the roots of the World Tree live and thrive, and where the brave seek answers to mighty dilemmas. The dverger rarely mix with the elven nations, these days. Thousands marched to war in Hel’s armies, but not since that time have they raised their banners for any cause. They occasionally make their way to the Tunnels, but never for long. The Svartalfs and we trade with them, through many middle hands. Weapons, magic, you name it. The gods gave them their skill with metals, but others say they are all older than the gods, offspring of the ancient powers, when Ymir was still slumbering, and gods were just newborns.”
“What is Above?” I asked angrily. “Ittisana?”
She waved a hand as Thak tried to answer. She went on, “The dverger are said to hold up the skies of the worlds, some say they are dead things, but they aren’t, really. They won’t turn to stone in the light. There are many famous crafters. Sinri and Brokkr gave gods mighty weapons, such as the gods could not forge. And—d”
“Itti—s”
“Here,” she said and pulled a book out of the pile. She shoved it at me and I fumbled with it. She thumbed the book cover and opened the book. The thing shot open, as a chest-sized map unfolded on my lap. “Sorry,” she said and I cursed, because the edge of the map had poked me in the eye while opening. “Look.”
“I will when I can,” I said, rubbing my eye.
What I saw was a complex map.
It was vast with intricate details. There were millions of tunnels, high and low, leading to a million locations. There were tiny markings of round gates, clearly like the one that stood open in the White Court. “That there, that’s the gate between Svartalfheim and Aldheim,” she said and her nail touched a picture of a gate isolated in the middle of the network of tunnels, though one tunnel was clearly thicker than the others and straight. The picture of the gate shimmered oddly and I half expected to see a portal opening. She went on, her nail moving along to a huge area of land. “And that, is the Vastness.”
“I guessed,” I breathed. “That would be vast.” There, ways off from the gate stood what I thought was a grand cavern. It was dotted with markings, but in the midst of it stood a high walled city of painted black and blue stones. It was tall as a mountain, and probably was one. Below and around it, cities and villages, and my head swooned. “How many—s”
“There are high and mighty kings in that city, powerful and beautiful queens. But only one Throne of Scars,” Ittisana said. “Stheno sits on it. At least she should. Shannon has sent an emissary there, and we’ll know better soon. It is the kingdom of pleasure, of thievery, of selfish pursuits. Thousand families rule it, and the Queen rules the Scardark from the
Traitor’s Hold, what was once the seat of Nött, Goddess of Night. She, like the other gods and goddesses are gone, her throne taken by lesser beings. Scardark was her city, the Throne hers. There she sat, but now the Scepter of Night is held by Stheno.”
Nött. A goddess.
I sputtered. “You mean there was a goddess there once?”
“It was her kingdom of shadows and night, and she ruled it, and enjoyed the chaos of it. She obeyed Odin, she did, but she rarely consulted him in the way the land was ruled. She ruled the Below.”
“What’s that?” I asked, and put my hand on a doorway near Scardark, on the walled cavern. “A huge door.” Beyond it, the map showed nothing.
“Lands we do not know,” Ittisana said sadly. “There is this doorway that cannot be opened. There is the White Way and doors with timeless craftsmanship. No elf can open them. On top of the door, is the Dark Guard, the light that tells time in the Vastness.”
“How did Stheno take it from Nött,” I murmured. “The throne?”
Ittisana spat. “Nött wasn’t there, when the gates were closed. The two gorgons moved to Scardark, First Born, not long after the world was born,” she breathed. “They say they made us, the lesser ones, and we live here,” she said, and pointed a finger at what I thought was under the tunnels, ways off, behind wild caverns. There, lakes dotted a cavern of modest size. “Dark Waters,” she whispered. “Long have I missed it.”
I squeezed her hand, and she smiled gratefully.
“In the vastness, there are many great elven cities. Here, Varrin, there, Kalan, Gillar, Mikan, Moor, Ban, and Rorrin,“ she said. “We’ll take the map with us.”
“What’s Above?” I asked her one more time.
She put her finger over her mouth. “Above is Aldheim.”
“Aldheim?” I asked her, shocked. “What do you mean?”
“Aldheim and Svartalfheim are sister worlds. The Above is the jewel of the gods, and Below, is the rich belly of the world.”
I pointed a finger beneath us. “Is it in Aldheim?”
She shrugged. “I do not know, in truth. Some say no, others say yes, but the gate is there and there is supposedly no way out but the gates. Nött would know. She was the goddess of thieves and unknown ways. But we cannot ask her,” she said with a small smile. She looked up at Thak. “Do you think the map is enough?”
Thak nodded. Then he frowned. He sniffled, and looked at me.
“What—s” I began.
The air moved by two bookcases. Ittisana shot up, her hands glowing. A fiery stream of fire shot through the air from her hands, blinding me. It twirled and sizzled erratically and struck something.
A spell of invisibility was broken.
A group of elves appeared, as one of them, a pretty girl fell on her face, a hole in her chest. I cursed, grasped the Iron Trial and rolled on the floor, as two arrows sunk into the couch. Thak moved like a wraith. His sword was up, and he grew to ten foot as he charged. Three elves rushed him with swords, brave and crazy. Thak laughed spitefully, his sword hacked one elf into two halves, he parried a swift strike, and danced out of the way. He clawed an overzealous elf across his face, and then there was no face left. The last of the elves took a small opportunity and struck at Thak with a sword, opening a wound on the jotun’s knee, but his broken body hurtled down to the darkness.
There, warning shouts could be heard. More of them, I thought. How did they get there?
The rest of the elves rushed away. Ittisana took careful steps forward, and I followed her, pulling the saber. Thak charged after the elves, and I could hear shouts and curses in the dark. A head rolled by, a female elf flew against a window, broken, as the gigantic warrior struck around with a manic strength amidst darting elven shadows.
I rushed to gaze down at the bottom floor.
There, a trapdoor was opened. There was a gaping hole in the floor, an opening of a tunnel. Ittisana’s spells lit up the area, and the bottom level was teaming with warriors wearing the green tabards with rampant beast. I saw another elf fall down to them. He fell heavily at the feet of an elven female.
And those of Anja.
Anja was there, having opened the door with her skill. She looked up at me with shock, and took a step back.
“To the stairway,” Ittisana said, and pulled me away as a dozen arrows flew past. A spell of ice shattered sharply at the railing, toppling a statue of a meditating elf. There were shouts and feet thumping as the elves rushed up to kill us. I gathered my energies. I knew the firewall, I knew a whip of fire, and the spell that summoned the fiery elemental.
And I could use the fire of the Iron Trial. I could.
But Anja was down there.
Ittisana crouched by the stairway. Thak appeared, man-sized and gleaming with elven blood, slinking in shadows near the top of the stairway. It was shaking by the hurried steps of the upcoming elves, and we prepared.
Ittisana turned me around. She grasped the mask from my belt. “There are too many.”
“Anja,” I said weakly.
She slapped the mask against my chest. “She made her choice.”
Thak lifted his sword, and I saw he was preparing to die.
I cursed softly and placed the mask on my face.
The thing answered. The fire slithered in my hands, and the snake appeared from my gauntlets, surging around me, gleeful, I thought, for the butchery that was about to take place. I fought it, tried to control it. I had, in the Citadel, but now, it barely listened to me. It turned in the air before me. It turned its head to face the enemy. My ears were ringing, my face was steaming hot, and I felt the evil and savagery of the thing flit into me.
The elven troops were on the second landing. Now I could see spears.
Magical lights sprung to life around us. Their maa’dark were flushing us out.
Ittisana charged out and hurled fire. She was excellent with such spells, and the rushing fire tore at the shields and armor of the leading enemy soldiers, and killed five and more elven warriors. Dozen more came up, armored heavily, arrows flying, jumping over their dead. I pulled at Ittisana, and a thrown javelin struck my gauntlet, an arrow smacked into my mask. The snake slithered around my hands, and I felt it demand release. The more I fought it, the less control I had over it, and I felt the artifact drag me to my knees.
The elves reached us. Their swords were in the air, their fierce eyes seeking our weakness.
Thak surged forward.
He slashed the huge blade across the elves. Four fell dead and Thak roared his way down the crowded stairs, trampling elves in their armor. His clawed feet were gouging and ripping them apart, his sword slashing them open. It was a bloodbath, and if you have ever seen an enraged bull gorge an unfortunate victim, throwing it mercilessly in the air until it resembled nothing but a rag, then this was much like it. Thak stomped the surprised elves into pulp. Fire spells reached for him, but he was a fire giant, and they had no effect on his magical skin, except they made him glow. He reached the landing below, and the fight became harder. The enemy surrounded him, yelling encouragement to each other. Blades hacked, elven spears thrust at him, and he screamed his pain at the grim faces of the enemy. He went into a frenzy, and his sword hacked left and right. Ten elves died. More, as he fled the landing and pushed down for the bottom, again killing in a packed stairway. Ittisana was up, peeking down the stairs, and she turned to look at me. She looked desperate.
There were many there. An army?
“We need you,” she hissed. I barely heard her as blood was pounding in my ears, the snake a burning being in my mind. “Thak’s going to die. Follow him and kill them all.”
“Wait,” I gasped. The Iron Trial hammered at my thoughts, demanding release, spiteful of my reluctance. I had killed before. I had hated it each time. Now, the artifact could be blamed. It would take the responsibility, I thought, and wondered where the thought came from.
“We have no time!” Ittisana screamed. “The ones Thak passed are coming up!”
She was right, of course. I walked forward and saw a hundred bright elven warriors pour up the stairway, while more prepared to kill Thak below, surging up from the hole.
With them stood the Safiroon noble, the high one, Shinna Safiroon, the one who ruled their house.
She was an arch mage, and I saw she was calling for more elves from the hole. Anja was standing away, still looking up, perhaps guiltily. And then I saw no more, didn’t hear anything, because the fire was roaring in my ears. Was this how Dana felt, when she cast her mighty spell of fiery storms, I wondered in panic. When I had controlled the thing in the Citadel, it had lied to me. It had tricked me. I had had no control at all, and yes, it was so powerful I felt I was burning.
It filled me with savagery.
The snake thickened, it grew, and it swam around me.
Thak was safe. He couldn’t be hurt by fire.
But Anja wasn’t. It mattered not, I thought, and felt like a maniac.
I charged to the top of the stairway. Elves shouted warnings. Arrow flew by, and burned in the air as the snake circled me. Thak was hacking like a demon near the bottom, surrounded by a dozen lithe elves, and some females with spears. He was bleeding from his gut, his hands were covered with dark blood, his and his enemies, and his sword twirled as he shouted challenges to the enemies of Shannon.
To my enemies.
Yes.
I released the snake.
It roared down the stairs with unholy glee. The statues blackened. Steam rose from the marble, the railing shone brightly and the corpses Thak had made burst into flames along with the live elves, who had wanted to kill us. The snake tore like a wild animal at the enemy troops. They screamed, fell away, withering with heat. They blackened, fell down to the bottom with their armor dripping tears of molten steel, their flesh curling from their bones. The snake killed a dozen, then another dozen, twirled down to the second floor, igniting a pair of mighty maa’dark elves whose defensive spells remained as their bones crackled on the blackened floor. Then the spell-serpent surged for the bottom floor, igniting the enemy like they were made of dry wood. Even Thak took steps back as the snake roared around him to the bottom, and held a hand across his face. I staggered forward, and the spell tore at the hundred elves at the bottom.
Throne of Scars Page 6
