Bloodsong Hel X 3

by C. Dean Andersson

  The Jotun moved to stand with his hand on the door, grinning with satisfaction at the spectacle of Huld standing chained nude among the mounds of rotting flesh. The horror in her eyes gave her emotions away though she stood with chin held high. Some of the crawling things were already climbing her bare legs.

  “Promise not to let me forget that she’s down here,” Thokk urged Vafthrudnir, then nodded for him to close the door. The Jotun gave Huld one last grin and obeyed.

  Hinges creaked as the door closed, shutting out all light. The lock clicked. Then Thokk and Vafthrudnir started back up the stairs, laughing together, leaving the Freya-Witch alone in the decay-ridden dark.

  AS SOON AS the closed door shut her from Thokk’s sight, Huld began trying to dislodge the things crawling on her legs. The hobbling chains kept her from kicking, but by stamping first one foot and then the other, she shook what felt like most of them off, though others immediately began to take their place.

  She began cautiously walking in the total darkness, hoping that by moving around she might keep more of the crawling things off, but the chains on her ankles, clanking mockingly as she moved, forced her to move so slowly and to take such short steps that she found it necessary to stamp her feet every few paces to keep the crawling things from climbing higher than her knees.

  How long will she leave me here? she wondered, fighting a rising panic. Without any clothes, I could die of exposure to this cold air if it’s too long. I can’t work a heat spell because of these cursed spell-chains! She shivered and her teeth began to chatter.

  With every step she felt insects squish beneath the soles of her bare feet. She breathed shallowly to take as little of the filthy air into her lungs as possible. She shivered again. “Freya’s Teats!” she cursed.

  How long could she keep walking? How long could she stay awake? She recoiled from the thought of falling asleep in that place, of lying unconscious upon that floor.

  But I am freer than before, she told herself. I can move around. I’m not in pain, not injured, and thanks to the healing spell, my exhaustion is gone. If only I could get free of these spell-chains while Thokk is still weakened from healing me.

  An unpleasant thought occurred, and within it a sudden flash of hope. Some of the corpses I saw in the torchlight still wore clothing. Perhaps some still have a weapon upon them, a dagger or something I could use to force open these manacles.

  Huld’s mind rebelled at the thought of searching the decaying corpses in the darkness. Finding anything useful was unlikely. But it was a chance, and she had to take it.

  She moved carefully forward until her foot touched cold, rigid flesh. Her heart raced with disgust. She squatted down and tried to reach the mound of corpses with her bound hands. But it soon became evident that with her hands chained behind her, the only way, she could reach the bodies was to go onto her knees and sit on her heels with her back to the decaying things.

  Defying her revulsion, she slowly knelt on the floor and tried to ignore the feel of the crawling things that immediately began swarming over her thighs.

  With a sob, Huld struggled back to her feet, shook her legs, and stamped her feet as best she could, to get rid of the crawling horrors.

  I must kneel, she told herself when the spasm of repulsion had begun to recede slightly. I must search. It’s my only chance. Let them crawl all over me. It won’t matter if I succeed in getting free. I have felt no bites. Perhaps they are harmless to the living, like maggots interested only in dead flesh.

  She slowly made herself kneel again and felt the crawling things swarm up her thighs once more.

  The Freya-Witch pushed down panic, forced herself to remain on her knees, to sit back on her heels, to reach back to the mound of corpses.

  Her questing fingers found cold, bare flesh instead of clothing. She moved on her knees until she could touch a different corpse in the mound but again found only decaying flesh, the skin so rotten that her fingers suddenly broke through into a mass of squirming maggots beneath. Choking back tears and gagging, Huld moved on to the next corpse, and then to the next and the next, panting with disgust at the things she was touching in the darkness.

  The crawling things were now swarming over her upper body, and as she continued the search, some finally reached her face.

  Even a piece of metal like a belt buckle might help spring the manacles, she thought, desperately forcing her hands to touch dead flesh again and again.

  Something crawled over her lips and tried to force entry into her mouth. She frantically shook her head back and forth, whimpering, and felt the thing fall away from her lips.

  Tears of rage and horror streaking her face, the Freya-Witch hesitated, fought to calm herself, to force down the panic that sought to make her scream. Then, her nakedness now covered with crawling, questing horrors, she moved on her knees to the next mound of death and began another search, wallowing in decay, determined to somehow thwart Thokk’s plans.

  * * *

  “I can detect your thoughts, Guthrun,” Thokk said, standing in Guthrun’s chamber. “I know what you have planned. It won’t work. You can’t fool me with lies.”

  “And you can’t break me with sleeplessness and lack of food!” Guthrun shouted, angered that Thokk had so easily detected the trick she’d planned.

  “It is time you met your brother,” Thokk decided after a brief pause.

  “My brother is dead.”

  “More or less.” Thokk smiled. “But with your help, he can awaken to new life.”

  “What monstrous thing have you done?”

  “It is not monstrous at all! He is beautiful!”

  “I would not trust you to judge beauty. A bloated maggot might be beautiful to you.”

  Thokk laughed. “Poor things. No one loves them.”

  “Except you?”

  “I respect the service they perform.”

  “Free Huld, Valgerth, Thorfinn, and their children, and I will promise to cooperate, a little.”

  “Come with me to your brother willingly, now, and do not try to escape, or I will instruct Vafthrudnir to torture Huld again.”

  “Again? What have you done to her!”

  “She’s not injured at the moment. I performed a healing spell, and at present she is enjoying a restful interlude in a quiet place. But if you do not follow me to your brother willingly, she will suffer again.”

  “Then for Huld’s sake, I will go with you,” Guthrun decided. “But I promise nothing more.” And once I am again outside this cursed room—

  “Yes, you will be out of your chamber,” Thokk said, reading her thoughts. “But try to escape and Huld might be stripped of her skin, then covered with salt, and—”

  “All right!”

  Laughing, Thokk unlocked the door and stepped into the hall.

  Guthrun followed, then stalked along in silence as the Hel-Witch led the way.

  Guthrun’s head still throbbed with pain and she felt weak from lack of food and sleep. She tried to keep her mind blank so that Thokk would have nothing to detect. But if at any point a chance arose to kill Thokk, she knew that without the slightest hesitation, she would take it.

  * * *

  Thokk stopped. They had descended far into the castle’s depths. The Hel-Witch held a torch to one side of a closed door and looked thoughtfully at Guthrun.

  “I am the only one who has entered this chamber for the past thirteen years, Guthrun. Your brother lies within, fully grown, a handsome young man in his middle teens. He is special, Guthrun, just as you are special, to Mother Hel and to me.”

  “Hel is not my mother. Repeating it over and over makes no difference. Bloodsong is my mother. I have hair like hers, and eyes, and a birthmark similar to hers, too. She said her mother had it as well.”

  “Bloodsong gave birth to you, Guthrun. I will not deny that. But she did not give new life t
o you after you died in her womb. Hel is ever the Mother of the Dead.”

  “I didn’t die. Bloodsong did, but—”

  “But she told you that you had not?” Thokk asked with a sad, understanding look on her face.

  Guthrun’s head was aching even worse. It was becoming ever harder to think clearly.

  “You did die, Guthrun. Hel gave you new life, just as she did Bloodsong. She is your true mother. And slumbering within you are the powers of a Deadborn. The same is true of your brother, Lokith.”

  “His name is Thorbjorn, Eirik’s son, no matter what you’ve done to his corpse. And I have no special powers—” her voice trailed away as she slumped against the wall, head spinning. Nausea flooded through her.

  Thokk held her torch to one side and steadied the young woman with her free hand until the wave of weakness passed. “Better, child?”

  Guthrun glared at her and shook off the steadying hand.

  Thokk unlocked and pushed open the door, stepped inside, and beckoned Guthrun to follow.

  Within the chamber, by the flickering torchlight Guthrun saw the purple-draped form of a handsome young man lying on a dais. She walked closer; noticing how like her own were his features. But his hair was blond, not black.

  “Your father had blond hair,” Thokk said, reading Guthrun’s thoughts. “You never saw him, of course, but I did, once. Lokith looks much like him, could nearly be his twin.”

  “He’s not breathing.”

  “Hel’s powers flow through me, Guthrun. I healed his decayed and wounded flesh. I gave him energy of my own, caused him to grow and develop. Could Norda Greycloak have performed a wonder such as you see before you? No, she could not. But I have! And in time, with my help and guidance, you will be capable of even greater wonders, Guthrun. Think of it! Great power sleeps within you, the Coils of Old Night waiting to be awakened, to be trained, used, and wielded by you, Guthrun. By you!

  “You’ve felt the pull of your true self. That is why you wanted to study Witchcraft. But it is not Freya’s magic for which you lust. It is Hel’s! I speak the truth, Guthrun. And as proof of the power within you, the first wonder you shall perform is to bring your brother to life!”

  “No.” But Guthrun could not disguise her shock.

  “Yes! Even I cannot do it.”

  “Then it won’t be done. Because—”

  “The power of your first blood will do it.”

  “My first,” Guthrun hesitated, “blood?”

  “Because of who and what you are, a Deadborn, a child of Hel born in Helheim of a woman who died Hel-praying. Bloodsong’s soul is forever Hel’s too, my child. She fights against it, but Hel is her true mother, forever. Her true name is Bloodsong Hel’s Daughter! You and Bloodsong are more sisters than mother and daughter, your souls, I mean. And I am therefore your sister, too. I am also a Deadborn! My mother was a—”

  “You have told me so many lies,” Guthrun interrupted. “And now this? You expect me to believe this? You are both a liar and an idiot!”

  “You will believe, when you see your brother filled with Life that your blood will bestow! Your blood will flow soon now, anyway, but I can hasten its arrival. You need only ask, and once your woman’s blood has begun, a single drop placed upon your brother’s lips will awaken him, cause life to flood through him, make his heart start to beat and his lungs to pump air. Only you can do that for him, Guthrun. Only you.”

  “The dead should—”

  “Stay dead?” Thokk completed. “A strange thing for you to say. Would you prefer Hel never to have given Bloodsong and yourself new life? Hel is the Goddess of the Underworld! She cares for the Dead, heals their souls, prepares them for new lives, then gives that new life to them in new bodies! She is older than the Gods! They usurped Her powers! Stole from Her! Created horrible stories about Her!”

  “You believe lies. I know the truth!”

  “You know the lies others have spread. Look at your brother, Guthrun! Look at him! Will you deny your brother new life? Do you have that right, when it is within your power to do otherwise? If I gave you a dagger, would, you use it to slit his throat?”

  “Give me one and see.”

  Thokk shrugged. “Your thoughts say you would try to use it to slit not your brother’s throat but mine. Stubborn child! Accept that you are one of Hel’s most precious treasures, destined to help lead Hel’s conquests at your brother’s side!”

  “If I were so precious to Hel, She would not have let me go. She would have kept me a prisoner in Helheim. You would not have to use threats, trickery, and lies to gain my cooperation. I would have known nothing but what Hel wanted me to know.”

  “Hel wanted you to spend these years among the living,” Thokk assured her. “Your years in the sunshine make you even more valuable. You have learned and experienced many things that will aid you in leading Her conquests. You now know the weaknesses of the living but have slumbering within you the strengths of the Dead. No, Guthrun, your years away from Helheim are only further proof that all I’ve told you is true. Accept your destiny, Deadborn Daughter of Hel! Accept the truth! At long last let your soul be at peace with the truth.”

  A moan of horror bubbled from Guthrun’s lips. Into her mind had suddenly crowded images of all her companions and friends in Helheim. She saw them go down on their knees and bow their heads, to her.

  Victory glinted in Thokk’s eyes as she sensed the last of Guthrun’s mental defenses beginning to crumble.

  Guthrun fought the vision in her mind, but her weakness and exhaustion were too great. Her head pounded as if about to explode. She slumped onto her knees, gripped the edge of the dais, then slipped unconscious to the floor.

  Thokk looked down at her and smiled. You were as strong as I’d hoped, she thought, perhaps even stronger. But the battle is finally over. You don’t know it consciously yet, but you are now indeed Hel’s, and you are mine.

  BLOODSONG AND GRIMNIR rode to the crest of a sandy hill. Below stretched the horizon-spanning sea. Morning sunlight sparkled upon the surface of the blue water. Bloodsong turned to Grimnir, wonder in her eyes. “I’ve never seen its like before,” she admitted, looking back at the sea. “It’s beautiful but also a little unsettling.”

  Grimnir nodded, remembering the first time he’d seen that vast expanse of water as a child. “You’ve done deeds that shall be told and retold long after your passing,” he said, “and yet you have never before seen the sea. I am glad I could be by your side for your first sight of Aegir’s Rooftop.”

  “Ah, yes. Aegir, I suppose many who live near the sea invoke the Sea God’s name.”

  “And that of His mate, Ran, Who catches humans in Her net and pulls them down into Her world.”

  “She’ll not drag me down in Her net,” Bloodsong replied. “You promised a longship, Grimnir. I see no ship.”

  “It’s not far from here.”

  “Then let’s be on our way. The days we’ve ridden to get here seemed to take forever. I hope the voyage to the Berserkers’ Isle will be as quick and easy as you have promised.”

  Grimnir angled his horse away from the beach toward an inlet marked by a thick stand of trees. Within the trees stood several dwellings, and in the still, deep waters of the secluded inlet rode a longship. “She stands ready for this year’s raiding,” Grimnir told Bloodsong. “Her name is Waveslasher. I’ve lived on her decks more than once.”

  “We two cannot handle such a large ship alone,” she commented, eyeing the sleek craft.

  “We won’t have to,” Grimnir replied, then dismounted and roared a greeting. “Ho! Magnus! Come and greet your old swordmate!”

  Bloodsong dismounted, ready to draw her sword, suspicious of the situation until she had reason to feel otherwise.

  A huge, barrel-chested, blond-bearded man emerged from a longhouse and bellowed a return greeting as he hurried toward
them. “Come to go raiding with us again?” Magnus asked as he clapped Grimnir on the back. “It’s been too long, Grimnir!”

  Magnus looked at Bloodsong. “Who is this woman you’ve brought with you? A companion for my wife while we are away?”

  Bloodsong held Magnus’s gaze. “I am Bloodsong, I need your ship.”

  Magnus laughed. “And, of course, I’ll just give it to you! A woman!” He laughed again. “Another of your fine jokes, Grimnir? You were always a great one for playing jokes!”

  The look on Grimnir’s face stilled Magnus’s laughter. “We have just come from Eirik’s Vale,” Grimnir said. “Kovna came, and a sorceress, the Hel-Witch, Thokk. Eirik’s Vale was destroyed, all the inhabitants massacred. Did you not hear this woman’s name, man? She is Bloodsong. Bloodsong! Treat her with the respect a warrior such as she deserves!”

  Magnus looked back at Bloodsong. “I meant no disrespect,” he told her with a return glance to Grimnir. “Grimnir always liked to play jokes. I had friends who lived in Eirik’s Vale, though I never visited there. Are you certain that everyone—”

  “Kovna left no one alive save Bloodsong and four others,” Grimnir assured him, “and she was also meant to die, but I and two of her friends managed to free her. Now we need aid, and your ship is the way to obtain it. Will you and your crew take us to the Berserkers’ Isle?”

  Magnus hesitated, looking doubtful.

  “Thokk serves the Goddess Hel,” Bloodsong told him, “She plans to spread Hel’s darkness and ice onto the Earth. What happened at Eirik’s Vale will happen elsewhere. No one will be safe. I am not asking you and your crew to fight Thokk’s sorcery. I intend to ask the Berserkers to do that. We hope that Odin’s magic within them will be a protection against the Hel-Witch’s magic. Take us to the island and you will have done much to fight Hel’s plans.”