Bloodsong Hel X 3

by C. Dean Andersson

  * * *

  Vafthrudnir looked down into Guthrun’s eyes. She had done as promised. His shoulder was healed. “Thank you, little Witch,” he said, then turned his attention back to the curtain of fire.

  The four remaining Death Riders still stood poised on the other side, waiting to attack if Lokith’s magic succeeded in breaching the barrier. Behind them, Lokith’s face was a mask of rage as he stood watching Guthrun. He glanced around, momentarily distracted by the increasing sounds of battle outside the Chapel of Hel. Again he reached out with his Hel-senses, discovered that the Death Rider he had sent below had been slain and that enemies were nearing the Chapel, among them Bloodsong and a Freya-Witch.

  With a curse and a glance at Thokk and Guthrun, he ordered two Death Riders to his side to await the invaders. And then, in the entrance to the Chapel of Hel, they appeared.

  “Welcome, Mother,” Lokith hissed. “Slay her,” he ordered the Death Riders.

  Bloodsong stood, momentarily stunned by Lokith’s appearance, so like that of her dead husband, Eirik. It could have been Eirik himself come back from the grave. “You warned me, Huld,” she said. “But I hardly believed you. Curse your evil, Thokk! To have done this to my son!”

  The two Death Riders attacked. Bloodsong stepped forward to meet them.

  “No, Bloodsong!” Grimnir cried. “The death-touch! Shape-shift! Don’t fight them in human form!”

  But Bloodsong was berserking now, thinking only of reaching Guthrun. Her black-bladed sword met the black blade of a Death Rider. Purple sparks flew. She did not fail.

  “Odin-magic is strong in her!” Huld cried, then whipped the bloodstained cloth from her belt pouch and quickly wadded it into a ball.

  Bloodsong blocked a cut with her shield, ducked to avoid the lightning thrust of the other warrior’s blade, sliced with her sword and cut through one of the Death Rider’s legs at the knee. The corpse-warrior fell, crippled but still filled with Helish life.

  The other Death Rider attacked.

  Bloodsong parried the cut but not in time to avoid being staggered. She slipped to one knee and brought her blade up to parry again.

  Something fluttered through the air into the Death Rider’s face. Blue-white light flashed and thunder exploded as the object touched the warrior’s head. He dropped his sword and clawed at his eyes as if in great pain.

  Bloodsong leapt to her feet and cut his head from his shoulders. His remains writhed momentarily on the floor, then became a maggot-riddled ooze within the black-armor.

  Bloodsong’s sword sliced downward and decapitated the crippled corpse-warrior.

  Huld grabbed up the bloodstained cloth she had thrown in the Death Rider’s face and held it clenched ready in her right hand.

  Lokith, seeing his Death Riders defeated, backed toward the altar, cursing. “A truce, Thokk!” he called. “Unless we destroy the invaders, neither of us will live to spread Hel’s conquests! Death Riders!” he shouted. “Do not harm those behind the fire curtain. Slay those who approach!”

  The Death Riders turned away from the altar and faced Bloodsong and her companions.

  “Guthrun!” Bloodsong shouted, her eyes touching her daughter’s through the curtain of fire. For a heartbeat a stranger seemed to look out at her from behind Guthrun’s eyes, then recognition came.

  “Mother!” Guthrun cried.

  A bolt of purple fire blazed from Lokith’s upraised fist toward Bloodsong.

  Huld leapt in front of her friend and held the bloodstained cloth like a shield. With a clap of thunder and a shower of purple and blue-white sparks, Lokith’s ray of death dissipated.

  Thokk grasped Guthrun from behind and pressed the black dagger to her throat. “Throw down your weapons or she dies!” the Hel-Witch warned.

  Guthrun kicked back and brought her heel down hard on Thokk’s instep. The Witch cried out with pain and rage. Guthrun twisted and rammed an elbow into Thokk’s solar plexus, wrenched herself free, then turned, grabbed Thokk’s wrist, and began struggling to get the dagger.

  Bloodsong rushed forward toward Lokith and the two remaining Death Riders, Huld by her side.

  Behind Bloodsong, Grimnir growled with frustration, wanting to join the fight in spite of the death-touch, but holding back. The red-bearded warrior glanced around at Magnus and his men, then beyond them through the chapel’s open door to the battle between the Berserkers and Kovna’s men. He now saw others in the fight as well, wearing black robes. He looked for Jalna and Tyrulf, caught sight of them as Jalna’s Freya-sword sheared through the neck of the Death Rider they had been fighting. “Jalna! Tyrulf! Your help is needed here!” he shouted.

  They raced toward him.

  “Magnus,” Grimnir continued, “take your men and help the Berserkers.”

  Bloodsong blocked with her shield the stroke of the Death Rider to her left and parried with her sword the thrust of the one to her right.

  Behind her, Huld stood ready with the bloodstained cloth should Lokith again attack with magic. Huld’s eyes flicked back and forth between Lokith and Thokk beyond the curtain of fire.

  The fiery barrier was rapidly fading as Thokk’s concentration was split between its protection and her struggle with Guthrun. Then suddenly the purple fire was gone and the way to the altar clear.

  Vafthrudnir grabbed Guthrun and held her arms pinned to her sides. Thokk’s face was twisted with anger. “Guthrun! You betray your true self!” she cried. “I saw it in your eyes! Help me fight the invaders!”

  “You were going to slay me a moment ago!” Guthrun yelled back, struggling helplessly in the Jotun’s icy grip.

  “A trick!” Thokk protested. “I would not have harmed you!”

  “You’ve already harmed me countless times!”

  “Only to show you the truth!”

  Jalna and Tyrulf rushed forward, followed by a hulking, gray-furred bear rearing on his hind legs. As the two warriors began to fight the Death Riders Bloodsong had been facing, the bear saw the Jotun and roared a challenge.

  Vafthrudnir jerked his head around toward the sound. His gazed locked with the gaze of the shape-shifter. The Frost Giant released Guthrun, roared a Jotun battle cry, and rushed to grapple with the Berserker.

  Grimnir suddenly caught sight of a face that brought hate boiling into his heart, the face of the man who long years before had killed his wife and children. “Kovna!’ he shouted. Grimnir lifted his battle-ax in a two-handed grip and ran toward his hated enemy.

  Guthrun saw Thokk raising her arms to wield magic. She threw herself forward, head down, tackled the Hel-Witch, and grabbed for the black dagger once more.

  Cursing beneath Guthrun on the floor, Thokk tried to cast a spell of unconsciousness on the young woman, but the awakened Hel-powers in Guthrun automatically deflected the spell.

  “Be true to yourself!” Thokk cried. “Stop fighting me and the truth!”

  “Bloodsong and freedom!” Guthrun shouted, and kept fighting for the dagger.

  Jalna was now battling one Hel-warrior, Tyrulf the other, while Bloodsong faced Lokith.

  Lokith raised his sword.

  “Don’t fight me!” she pleaded, torn by his haunting resemblance to her dead husband.

  Lokith lowered his sword. “Of course, Mother.” He smiled. “I’m so glad you have come to free me and my sister from Thokk’s evil!”

  Bloodsong kept her sword at the ready. “Throw down your sword,” she ordered, and glanced to where she’d last seen her daughter. Her gaze lingered when she could not immediately see Guthrun, still battling with Thokk on the floor behind the altar.

  Lokith aimed a lightning stroke at Bloodsong’s neck while her attention was diverted.

  She parried the stroke. “I don’t want to slay you!” she shouted as she blocked a slicing blow with her shield and parried another cut and then another, fighting defens
ively, unwilling to attack her own son.

  Behind the altar, Valgerth and Thorfinn wrenched at their chains, desperate to get free and join the fight.

  Thokk threw Guthrun from atop her. The Hel-Witch rolled away and came to her feet, still clutching the dagger.

  Guthrun threw herself at her again.

  Thokk hissed words of power. A ray of purple light shot out from her left hand and struck Guthrun, hurling her back.

  Guthrun struck the wall hard. The force of the blow stunned her. She struggled to stay on her feet, vision swimming, saw Thokk raising her arms to hurl deadly magic at Bloodsong, and forced herself to stagger toward the Hel-Witch, knowing that she was not going to be in time.

  Huld saw Thokk raising her arms. “Freya and Folkvang!” the Freya-Witch screamed, raised the bloodstained cloth like a shield, and intercepted a bolt of purple fire from the Hel-Witch’s hands. The Thor-imbued cloth steamed with the Hel-force it had deflected.

  Huld raced forward, concentrating on a spell as she ran. A thin beam of yellow-gold fire shot from her left hand.

  Thokk turned the Freya-spear aside.

  Having seen Guthrun strike the wall, Bloodsong gave a cry of frustration and rage and began battling Lokith in earnest. If a choice between her son or daughter had to be made, it would be made in Guthrun’s favor. Her black-bladed sword caught Lokith’s. Purple sparks flew. She feinted to the left and cut through his guard.

  Speed nearly that of a Death Rider’s saved him as he jerked back just in time. But he was now off-balance, and Bloodsong pressed her advantage, battering at him with stroke after stroke.

  Guthrun, vision clearing and strength returning, reached Thokk and began grappling for the dagger yet again.

  Huld reached the Hel-Witch and whipped the Thor-empowered cloth around Thokk’s neck from behind.

  Thokk screamed. Her throat blistered where touched by the cloth.

  Huld tightened the choking cloth.

  Thokk dropped the dagger and clawed at the Thor-empowered cloth around her neck.

  Guthrun grabbed the dagger and sank it to the hilt in Thokk’s chest.

  The Hel-Witch screamed, weakened but not slain. Black ooze seeped from the wound in her chest while her neck continued to burn from the Thor-blood cloth. Blisters spread upward to her face.

  Guthrun wrenched out the dagger and turned to aid her mother while Huld kept the Thor-cloth around Thokk’s throat.

  Huld’s muscles trembled with the strain of pulling the cloth tighter and tighter.

  Bloodsong cut through Lokith’s guard again, but this time he was not quick enough to avoid the stroke. He cried out with pain.

  The sound tore at Bloodsong’s heart as putrefying black blood oozed from a deep cut on his left arm. “Throw down your sword!” she shouted at him.

  Eyes filled with pain, he shook his head negatively and raised his blade once more.

  Guthrun hurled the rune dagger, aiming for Lokith’s exposed neck above his black mail.

  He flinched, momentarily distracted as the dagger whirred close to his ear.

  Bloodsong’s blade sheared down through his neck, nearly severing his head.

  A look of hatred frozen on his face, his eyes glazed and he fell unmoving to the floor. Black blood oozed from the gaping wound in his throat.

  A sob of horror at what she had been forced to do bubbled from Bloodsong’s throat, but then she saw Guthrun racing toward her. She opened her arms and embraced her daughter.

  Nearby, Harbarth and Vafthrudnir howled and cursed in a battle frenzy.

  Jalna and Tyrulf still fought the two Death Riders.

  “What took you so long?” Guthrun asked, then grinned at her mother.

  Bloodsong laughed. “I’m keeping you home from now on!”

  “What fun will that be?” Guthrun made herself pout, then she dropped the act and hugged her mother fiercely. “I feared you were dead.” Her voice broke. Then she pulled away from her mother and grabbed up a black-bladed sword from on the floor. “Let’s send a Death Rider to Hel!”

  Bloodsong advanced with her daughter against the Death Rider Tyrulf was fighting.

  Tyrulf shouted his thanks and hurried to aid Jalna in her fight with the other corpse-warrior.

  Mother and daughter parried the strokes of the Death Rider.

  Guthrun slipped through his guard and cut off his head. As he fell, Guthrun looked at Bloodsong. “Thanks! I know you could have killed him first.”

  Bloodsong grinned. “You needed the practice. Why aren’t you wearing clothes? And whose blood covers your skin?”

  “That would be mine, Mother.”

  “Yours?” Bloodsong remembered feeling Guthrun die. “What did Thokk do to you?”

  “I’ll explain later! Come on!” Guthrun headed for the altar.

  Bloodsong looked up at Valgerth and Thorfinn. “I’ll free you soon!” she shouted, then hurried after Guthrun.

  Jalna and Tyrulf suddenly found the Death Rider they fought unwilling to continue the fight. The skeletal warrior backed away, twisting his head from side to side as if listening to something only he could hear. Then he turned and ran to Lokith’s corpse, lifted his fallen leader, and placed him over his left shoulder. Holding him there, he advanced upon Jalna and Tyrulf once more. Suddenly, purple fire bathed his skeletal body. His movements became even faster. His sword arm blurred, moving nearly too fast to follow, making Jalna and Tyrulf fall back until they were pressed against a wall.

  The Death Rider turned and raced like a wind-driven shadow from the Chapel of Hel, carrying Lokith’s corpse.

  Another ragged scream tore the air where Huld still held the Thor-cloth around Thokk’s throat. Huld now knelt on the floor as the Hel-Witch’s body writhed in agony. Thokk’s scalp was a blackened mass of charred hair and flesh. But still she thrashed and struggled, refusing to accept the death she had avoided for so long.

  Huld shouted Runes.

  Thokk’s pain grew. Her body arched into a rigid bow. Every muscle strained and trembled. Her charred, skeletal hands still clawed at the cloth Huld held around her neck.

  Her awakened Hel-Witch powers gave Guthrun understanding. “She’s prolonging it!” Guthrun exclaimed. She ran to the Freya-Witch’s side. “End it, Huld” she cried. “She’s suffered enough!”

  Huld glanced up. Her eyes and Guthrun’s met. Huld’s eyes held insane hatred.

  “Please, Huld. Let her and your hate go. You are a Freya-Witch! Act like it!”

  Reason slowly returned to Huld’s eyes. The Freya-Witch nodded and quietly spoke one final word of power.

  The cloth flared white-hot. Thokk’s neck and head burst into flames.

  Huld jumped back and watched as Thokk writhed screaming upon the floor a few moments more. Then the Hel-Witch’s cries dwindled to wheezing sobs and stopped.

  “Guthrun. I lost control.”

  “In the future, if there’s hate-hard magic needed, let me handle it.”

  Huld looked into Guthrun’s eyes. “Goddess,” she whispered. “Your eyes.”

  “What about her eyes?” Bloodsong sheathed her sword and stood beside Huld.

  “Nothing, Mother. It’ll be all right. Won’t it, Huld?”

  “I will see to it,” Huld promised.

  Bloodsong touched Guthrun’s shoulder. “I thought I felt you die.”

  Guthrun shrugged. “I got better.” The young woman cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not the only one who’s changed. I sense something, not quite…human? But very powerful, and I don’t care. I’m your daughter.” She hugged Bloodsong close. “Right?”

  ALL WAS NOW silent in the Chapel of Hel. Thokk’s corpse lay smoldering near Guthrun and Huld. The Thor-blood cloth had been consumed by the final flames.

  Jalna and Tyrulf stood panting near the door after the frenzied fight with the Death Rider
.

  The bear-like beastform of Harbarth lay unmoving within Vafthrudnir’s spine-crushing embrace. Vafthrudnir, however, was also dead, his neck a gaping, blood-red ruin where Harbarth’s teeth had torn out his throat.

  A red-furred she-wolf entered the chapel. Ulfhild saw her fallen mate, slowly padded to Harbarth’s side, sniffed at his unmoving body, nuzzled him with her nose, then sat back on her haunches and howled with grief.

  Bloodsong slipped a hand around Guthrun’ s shoulders and pulled her daughter close, then looked for the body of her son.

  “Lokith’s gone to Hel,” Guthrun said.

  Bloodsong looked at her daughter.

  “A Death Rider carried him away.”

  With a cry of rage, Bloodsong ran from Chapel of Hel to try recovering her son’s corpse. “Follow me!”

  Ulfhild, Huld, Jalna, and Tyrulf followed.

  “You won’t find him!” Guthrun shouted, but Bloodsong and the others were already gone.

  Guthrun looked down at Thokk’s corpse, then up at Valgerth and Thorfinn. She moved toward them. The black-bladed sword was still in her hand.

  “Thank Skadi you remembered us.” Valgerth laughed, jerking impatiently on her chains.

  Guthrun stopped in front of the chained warriors. “I was supposed to slay you both,” she quietly said, glanced around at Thokk’s corpse, then back at them. “But I guess there’s no need to do that, now.”

  “Of course not!” Thorfinn exclaimed.

  “This is no time for jokes, Guthrun!” Valgerth frowned at her. “Get us free of these cursed chains so that we may find our children! Hurry, Guthrun! Hurry!”

  Guthrun still hesitated, eyes haunted. She looked back at Thokk’s remains.

  Remember your true mother! said a faint voice within her mind.

  Thokk! Guthrun thought. To Hel with you! And stay there! But she feared Thokk would not. With a curse, she hurled the sword away and hissed words of power. Purple fire flashed in her dark eyes. The locks upon the manacles that held Valgerth and Thorfinn clicked open.