Throne of Scars

by Alaric Longward

  Shannon walked to the top of a small knoll. The dragons, all badly wounded by now, aimed for her, slithering, ripping, clawing and killing. She smiled, madness in her eyes, and danced. Her hair was flying as she called for terrible powers. Her horrible wounds were on the mend, but she looked like a witch from some old story. Darkness rolled around her, and a huge lightning ball grew in her hands. It was massively tiring, even to the dead Hand of Hel. She shuddered with fatigue, but then she released it.

  A stabbing bolt of lightning pierced the air, zig zagging across it.

  The Masked One roared, and shrunk to his human form, dodging the spell. Another dragon was too slow. It had just spat a huge storm of fire at Shannon’s guards, which scattered a regiment of svartalfs, but the dragon died. The lightning tore into his head, exploding it, the ancient creature died on impact and it crashed to the ground.

  The remaining two dragons shrunk into human forms.

  All three braided together spells, and magical armor covered them head to toe. One had a golden spear, one a flail, and the Masked One, the icy sword. The rushed forward, slaying as they went on. Thousand svartalfs rushed to intercept them. The dragons tore into the army, killing and killing, getting closer to Shannon.

  One dragon fell under the blades of a beautiful queen and her guards. They stabbed it to death, roaring their victory.

  Two dragons were left.

  Shannon waited for them. But not alone.

  I saw Kiera. “There she is.”

  “And the Scepter,” the dragon rumbled. “It will be now, or never.”

  Shannon beckoned for Kiera and grasped the Scepter. She called out. “Let him come!” She pointed at the Masked One.

  Svartalfheim’s armies stopped attacking them, and backed off.

  Out among the elven ranks, the dragons raised their bleeding heads, saw the terrible losses and the state of their leader, and fled. One, a red, long-tailed one roared as its wing exploded, hit with a lightning bolt, and it fell to thrash its life away amidst a host of draugr. The last of the dragons that had been accompanying the Masked One hesitated. It stopped and released a spell that opened up the ground under the svartalfs, killing hundreds and fled away, trailing blood as it fled.

  And the Masked One, embracing death, he surged for Shannon.

  His sword swept up as he jumped past a jotun, killing him. The dragon was suicidal, terribly wounded, hurt beyond caring, and his hurtling image charged for Shannon. The sword crashed down on her. The Famine blocked it, and the two mighty beings stood there, pushing. Shannon glowed, and struck the dragon with the Scepter. He took the hit, a part of his face missing, and hacked again, the icy blade tearing into Shannon’s skeletal hand.

  The Masked One pushed terribly, and Shannon slipped on blood and fell on her back. She tried to get up, but the beast, giving the effort all it had, placed a blade under her guard. Kiera was there, stabbing, but the dragon struck her so hard she fell away, broken.

  “Now,” the dragoness said resolutely, and plummeted down. “Saving such as she …” she muttered, but went quiet with glee, as she was about to have vengeance for her mate. The speed was terrific, silent, but the Masked One looked up, just as it had grabbed the Scepter of Night, and was about to impale Shannon. He had sensed, or heard something. His eyes burned with confusion, and then he spotted us.

  The white dragon’s rear claws tore into him. She spun in the air, and the Masked One flew behind, trailing blood, an arm missing.

  She dropped us near it.

  I rushed forward. The fiery whip appeared in my hand, and I struck it around the Masked One’s face. Dana was there as the beast still got up, breathing heavily. I flailed, whipped, tearing the thing to pieces, and Dana’s spell of firewall burned its head so it burst into flames. It raised the icy sword one more time, and then Kiera appeared behind it, twisted and terribly hurt, and rammed the Heartbreaker through its chest.

  Apparently, it had a heart.

  The Masked One tottered forward, and fell at my feet. a blackened corpse.

  He turned to dust.

  And there, in the dust was the Gjallarhorn. Kiera fell on her back.

  I rushed to Kiera, and turned her around. She had been broken, her spine was twisted and her nose was in tatters. Dana strode forward, keeping an eye on two dragons that were swerving around the battle. She kneeled next to the corpse of Kiera, and grasped the Scepter from the ground. She also picked up the Horn, wondering at it.

  The tumult of battle could only barely cover her rasping breath, I looked at her, and nodded toward our friendly dragon. “We have to get the Horn to Nött,” I said.

  “No,” said a voice, and we turned to look at Shannon. Dana flinched at the sight of her. She was broken, mending slowly, but naked and looked truly dead with so many burns and wounds I could not count them. She pointed at the artifacts. “Give me the Horn, Ulrich. It was what we always agreed on.” Her eyes went to Dana. “And that.” I wasn’t sure if she meant the Scepter or her sister.

  I shook my head as Dana held on to the Horn and the Scepter. I walked between her and Dana. Morginthax growled above us at Shannon while her troops looked on, nervous as the elven army was pushing on towards us, slaying and routing troops. I shook my head. “No. I will not. We’ll do what we must.” I backed off towards Dana.

  She regarded me feverishly.

  Generals and captains around us were trying to bring sense and order to the battle, and to turn and face the massive, savage elven army. Light spells were bursting around us, and Almheir’s mages prepared to bring war over us.

  Shannon frowned in their direction. She walked closer to us. Her belly had two ragged, bloodless wounds. Darkness billowed out of them. Famine glimmered in her hands. “You’ll not recall Nött from her slumber. You’ll let her sleep, Ulrich. She is no answer to your prayers, my friend. Even less than I ever was.”

  “You were never an answer, Shannon,” I said sadly. “You were my friend. And you lied and used me.” I shrugged. “Or Hel did. I don’t know which. I agreed to help you stop this war. Your bitch queen wants it to go on. And that is why I no longer follow you.”

  “So much I hurt you,” she breathed. “I wish I still had a heart like yours.” She looked lonely, the mighty Queen of Scardark.

  I shook my head. “I’ll see Dana will do well, Shannon.” I held the mask on my face. “And if you insist on trying to take the Horn and the Scepter, you have to fight me.” I nodded at the dragon. “and her.”

  The dragon snorted and Shannon looked at us feverishly. I retreated from her, holding on to the mask. There was intensity in her eyes, her wounds were terrible, she the destroyer of dreams. She had nearly achieved everything, but I was taking all of that away.

  And perhaps, some part of her could still understand all she had achieved was misery for the living innocents across the Nine.

  Her eyes turned to Dana, who looked away. Then, the dark-haired girl forced herself to face her sister. She spoke to Shannon. “I am sorry for what I did.”

  Shannon looked at her for a long time, Famine in her hand. She looked like she was mulling her words, repeating them, searching some old feeling she might know and understand. She nodded. “The old Shannon knows. The rotten one needs to see you die, Dana. You caused all of this,” she said, and cast an eye over the elven army. “I can barely contain that need. I thank you for the apology. And so, perhaps it is best you left me.” She turned away and frowned at the battle.

  The bright elven standards were high in the air, and Shannon’s army was busily trying to encircle them, but in places the battle was going badly. The svartalf army was disorderly and exhausted as the elves stuck at them. Twenty chanting female elven battlemages pushed to the front of their line, near Almheir’s flag. A pair of jotuns cut several to pieces, but the rest of the females braided together furious lines of fire, burning though a hundred and more svartalfs.

  And into this hole, Almheir Bardagoon rode his lizard, despite the furious gestures of Shinna S
afiroon.

  Shannon turned to face the enemy and spoke softly, her flesh a mass of wounds, the girl we knew tired and lost. “You think my death will be best?” She chuckled and eyed Famine. “She won’t let go of me so fast, no. And Nött? She will not restore the worlds and the gods. She will not. She doesn’t need the gods and cares even less for Odin than Hel does. She has her ways to many of the Nine Worlds and does not need gates to do what she wants to do. Which is games and chaos. You’ll see. With Nött, there will only be silence, and no horn blowing on the gates.” She looked at us sadly. “If I fall, expect evil to follow you.”

  I cursed her. “At least Nött isn’t going to kill everyone. She has laws, and upholds justice, such as it is.”

  Shannon chuckled darkly. “Yes, there is that. But go, sister. Go and fetch the goddess. And I’m sorry for what follows. Win or lose, Hel will come for you. It will be I, or something worse. For our love, I shall let you change everything.”

  I hesitated at her words. She could very well be right about Nött. “If not Nött, then who? You refuse.”

  “I cannot,” she whispered. “I’m not strong enough to defy Hel.” She smiled at us. “But there is one else, at least.” She walked away from us towards the battle. “Let the dragon leave!” she yelled.

  “There is?” Dana asked, confused. “Where?” Shannon didn’t answer.

  I turned to look at Dana. I hesitated and then leaned close, and whispered to her.

  She clutched the Horn and nodded at me. She looked up at the dragon, who slithered close, and grasped her, casting baleful looks at gorgon and svartalf troops around her. I turned away and felt the air churn as Dana rode away for the White Door.

  I turned to walk with Shannon. I kept the mask near, and breathed deeply as I turned to face the angry elven army surging for Shannon. The svartalfs were rallying, most still up on the ridge, the army still formidable, as great in arms as the elven one, but the elven host was out for blood and organized. Around the Markudin a savage battle was being fought. Draugr and svartalf banners were falling on one side under the savagery of the Safiroons, who were avenging themselves to the dead. On the other side, the elves were being pushed back towards the bridge as masses of svartalfs from the ridge attacked them. There thousands and thousands of lizard-riding lancers surged madly to elven spears to try to kill Shinna Safiroon, who was guarding the tower on this end of the bridge. The svartalfs were trying to cut off the enemy army. Elves and svartalfs fell in heaps of bloody carnage, spells cutting through troops, swords cleaving down even the mightiest champions. The jotuns, hundreds strong were pushing down towards the elves, and it would be a terrible calamity for them when they reached the battle.

  Almheir Bardagoon, plagued by Rot, led his best forward, instead of defending the foothold they had achieved on this end of the cavern. His finest regiments mowed into the gorgons and the guards of Shannon. The black-armored svartalfs held the enemy, pushed spears at their bodies, hacked down savagely, until the maa’dark of Almheir again rallied and tore a magical road of burning flesh through them. The Regent of Aldheim, led his noblest of riders once more to the gap, hacking left and right, aiming for us. Shannon’s eyes flickered to me. The plain-looking knife of Hel glittered in her hand, the deadly thing whispering to her, speaking to her of spells she would use. She was dead, a cursed thing, and yet, right then, as she looked up to see the dragon taking Dana away to safety, I could almost imagine a tear in her eyes.

  She looked back at me as I stood next to her. She nodded her head in an apparent thank you. “I cannot forgive her.”

  I nodded. “Don’t forgive her. But she is your sister, and you yet love her,” I said, watching as Almheir’s army cut through reinforcing svartalfs and a savage legion of gorgons. Hundreds of the draugr were rushing to surround Shannon, but thousands were veering away from battle, running for the White Way and the ends of the cavern. “I’m sorry I cannot let you lead all these troops to Aldheim. Or let Hel punish the Nine Worlds.”

  “I thank you for standing by me, nonetheless,” Shannon said. “I sent Ittisana away in Aldheim. I took her likeness, and let her go. I shall let you go as well. Run far. It won’t end here. If I win here, and Nött ignores me, I will come after you. Hel wants me to rip the heart out of Aldheim,” she whispered. “She won’t be happy about this. She’ll burn the last vestiges of my own will and then I’ll find you and Dana, when I have the time. And if Nött comes and kills me, be afraid, my friend. Shannon will die, but Famine won’t.” Her eyes were burning and she touched my chest. She shook her head in shame. “And that cannot be healed, Ulrich. Not even by a goddess. You will serve Hel as well. For that, I am sorry. I needed powerful allies, and you were too weak. Run, Ulrich, but you won’t run far. Not from Hel.”

  I felt tightness in my chest, and tried to accept and forgive. The sadness conquered me, then fear that I’d be like her and I vowed I’d destroy myself before that happened. I was shaking with fear, my mouth dry.

  She saw my misery and turned away. “But just this one moment, before everything goes wrong, I thank you. I am sorry for the things I did. You were the best friend there is.”

  “Dana will have to finish this,” I told her.

  She snorted. “She is weak. She’ll have to find courage and self-sacrifice. I guess she found some of it.” She smiled. “You won’t guide her. You cannot. The dragon is an honor-bound fool. She can replace you, maybe.”

  I chuckled bravely, the thought of my imminent death heavy on me. “Yes.”

  She spoke on, as if making a last will. “As for the Horn, should she survive Nött, and the Queen of the Night does not take it for her own, she must carry it far.”

  “She’ll find one to blow it,” I said. “One to restore it. You said there is one.”

  A huge clash stunned the svartalf ranks before us. Shields bashed together and spears stabbed, ranks of them heaving to stab at flesh. Svartalfs roared their defiance. Draugr ranks joined in, and I heard Almheir roar in rage. I caught a glimpse of his rot-infested face as arrows dissipated against his guard spells. His sword flashed as he slashed at the enemy, trying to rip through the masses to Shannon. He caught sight of her.

  “Wife! Come, corpse, let us embrace!” he roared. “I’ve come to make a widow of myself!”

  Shannon smiled at me. “I think my husband has come a long way to meet me, Ulrich. I thank you for standing with me. You should go.”

  “Where—”

  “Tell Dana this, Ulrich,” she said and looked down at Famine, struggling with it. “Find one First Born who is not evil or selfish. I wanted you to read a book in Himingborg. Ittisana was supposed to find you one, but then the elves attacked you in the Haven. It was of the war in Midgard. Of the Aesir Baduhanna.”

  “She mentioned it. She said there is no time, so I did not,” I said. “But Itax mentioned her.”

  She laughed. “You should have. Now, go. Go and tell her to take the Horn to Midgard. Find Baduhanna. Use Nött’s Wells, if you can. You’ll need the Scepter for that, so I doubt you can get there, but if luck allows it, let her and that dragon go to Midgard. And tell her to be careful, for I or Hel will come for her, and gods only know what evil the Seed I released has caused in that distant world,” she said, preparing. “Hel might be there waiting.”

  Almheir Bardagoon charged into the last column of svartalf soldiers, with hundreds of his best warriors hacking madly. Gorgons were killing them in droves, and the draugr spears flashed madly. Almheir’s face was riddled with flesh-eating stick men, his once beautiful skin but a memory. His eyes burned with madness.

  I took a step away. “Good bye, Shannon.”

  She smiled. “Goodbye, Ulrich. Dana might not reward you for your mercy and friendship, but let’s hope your honor made a human out of her.” She looked away. “And if you die, don’t let Hel claim you. Destroy yourself.”

  I rushed away with her terrible words. I went with haste, and stopped and turned to watch. I held the mask laxly in my hand,
and gazed in horror as Almheir’s cavalry, proud, tattered banners high, attacked Shannon’s last guard. A blonde maa’dark on a lizard released fiery spells at her. Shannon moved fluidly, and the spells tore at nothing, disappearing in the air. I could hear her laughing softly, fully into her battle madness. Svartalfs attacked her assailants in droves, but the whole battle seemed to concentrate around her. More elves pushed over the bridge, which was held by Shinna, then lost to the svartalfs, and the jotuns. Vicious battle took place there, elves dying as they tried to retake it. Shannon was surrounded by draugr, Coodarg with them, and several other mighty casters. Spells flew back and forth. There was so much fire and destruction the air seemed to twist. Despite the spells, Almheir was still there, hacking with a flaming sword, slaying the draugr, so near Shannon now. She was waiting, glowing with energies. Almheir’s thousands had shrunk to hundreds. Almheir roared in frustration and screamed as a spear slashed inside his thigh armor.

  He sat up in the saddle, tearing at the spear and unleashed his might at Shannon.

  He was an ancient elf. One of the mightiest casters in Aldheim, and famous for his abilities. Fires opened under Shannon. They licked high, and fiery hands clutched her ankles, some burning away at Shannon’s defenses, but others took their place, until she was held. A fiery whirlwind appeared around her, scattering her draugr, and I could barely see her battered, nude body as she swayed in the magical torment. Almheir laughed and poured more powers to the spell. Pieces of skin finally flew around, burning, but the lich that was Shannon answered Almheir’s power, pounded her foot on the ground and the fiery hands snapped off. She waved her hand around, her red hair billowing, and a terrible spell left her hands, as a dozen enemy soldiers turned into stone. They had been hacking, charging and fighting the draugr, and then they fell forward.

  Almheir’s mount did as well.

  He screamed with pain as his protective spells guarded him from the deadly spell, but he still fell over the stone neck of the lizard. He fell amidst draugr, taking wounds, and his elves rushed to save him. Some were obviously his family, and one, a tall elf held his standard. They fought valiantly as Shannon released the deadly spell again, slaying a dozen high nobles, then twenty, the enemy breaking into rubble as they fell. She was waiting, as Almheir finally hacked his way through a group of draugr. The elven king was filled with arrows. His shield was splintered from his heroic charge, and spears littered his armor. A draugr pushed his weapon into his side, and Almheir hacked his head off. Some of his elves, few only, some wearing the colors of Safiroon, staggered after him, as did some maa’dark. Draugr held swords and spears around Shannon.