The Queen of the Draugr: Stories of the Nine Worlds (Thief of Midgard - a dark fantasy action adventure Book 2)

by Alaric Longward

  “And you think solving the issue of Mir and Crec is much more important than fighting here?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she answered icily. “It is. And stop fishing for information. I will deal with Crec and Mir. You need not worry about that. We will ride there as swiftly as we can. Horses will buy us weeks of time they have spent trudging on. And you, husband, shall defend the Grimwing Pass here in the south,” she answered.

  Grimwing Pass.

  I’d defend either Dansar’s Grave of Hillhold in the east of the Grimwing Pass, where the Iron Way ran through the southern offshoot of the Blight, not far.

  I shook my head with disappointment. Baduhanna seemed not to notice, as she looked at a figure to the side. She was smiling.

  I noticed she was smiling at Illastria, the ancient, sole living Blacktower lady. She had been healing people hurt in the battle. She was half mad from the terrors of living with Mir’s undead family, but work seemed to make her happy, and she was occasionally almost lucid. She had a bag filled with herbs, which she lovingly carried around. Her gray hair was bobbling as she was speaking with a merchant, and then, she was walking towards Baduhanna, smiling and holding up a steaming mug of wine. The aroma filled my nostrils with spicy glory, but I ignored it. Baduhanna had half adopted the old lady, and the old one adored her back. Baduhanna sighed. “I’ll deal with the matters in the north, but we shall have to keep the pass. Dansar’s Grave, Hillhold, you shall hold the forts.”

  I fumed. “With? And what of Dagnar?”

  “We will leave soldiers behind,” she said simply, receiving the mug, and sipping the drink and smiling down at Illastria. “Some of the noble armies.”

  “I should lead the armies north,” I said simply. “You can defend the south.”

  She turned to regard me with indifference. Then she smiled. “You will press the issue now? When we are in a hurry? I have called a muster of the nobles. They will all be here and Dansar’s Grave in two days. Stone Watchers are going to be here in a week, with luck. You will truly press this kingship issue with the nobles?”

  I nodded stubbornly.

  Baduhanna nodded at Illastria. “He’s a fool. I’ve married a fool.”

  “He is a fool of a husband,” Illastria said, with her old, broken voice.

  “I will,” Baduhanna said simply, “try to make you King in the morning, but if not, then someone else will govern while the war lasts. But, you shall not go to the north.”

  “Why?” I insisted. “Balissa? Can you tell me.”

  “There is much to tell,” Balissa said with a frown. “But I’ve sworn an oath. So have everyone. You have to trust … Baduhanna. Though I think she should risk it.”

  “Risk what?” I roared.

  “Stop it,” Baduhanna said.

  “And if you die?” I answered heatedly. “Our great Baduhanna must be protected. She is our greatest asset in this war.”

  “And thus the King speaks of his wife,” Baduhanna said, with a tingling voice, that probably meant she was amused. “Asset.” She lifted her hand to silence me, before I could press the issue. “We don’t truly know much about Balic and Mir’s plans. I have a hunch, but how they will achieve their goal, is a mystery. I am taking precautions. That means you will stay behind. And no, I am not immortal, and everything we will attempt will have dangers. But, I must go. And you must stay. That is it.”

  I stepped closer to her. “I could take Morag’s face, Father’s face, and fly there, command the army to stand down, and take Creg’s life. Mir’s, possibly.”

  “Too risky,” she said simply. “I told you.”

  “I don’t see,” I answered.

  Baduhanna was staring to the harbor. Illastria was clearly unhappy of me pestering the goddess. Baduhanna sighed and stroked her horse, speaking softly. “For the next few days, we have to govern the southern forces into war footing. The regular armies trudge the Iron Way for the Heart Hold, ultimately through the passes up there in the Blight, the icy passes and the treacherous mountains, hoping the winter won’t kill the lot while passing, and perhaps they will attack Falgrin. We need the nobles there.” She nodded at some of the nobles riding past. “The nobles know the truth. But as for the armies, to them, Crec is the King. They saw him crowned, after Morag died, and you hung, love. They’ll do their duty to Crec, as their oaths dictate. We need myself, and the highest nobles of the land, to convince them they are being deceived.” She shook her head. “The enemy is coming; it is certain. Four Legions are already heaving in the east, burning the land, and they’ll cut off the Iron Way soon. Few remain of Bull Legion, but nearing the Hillhold in the east, in Alantia, there is Aten’s Legion, with Ship and Fish in their flags. There is Ontar, with its Blue and White axe legion, and Millas Illir, with the weakened Griffin and Hammer Legion. Some others. Fifteen thousand enemies, rampaging in Alantia. They have the draugr royals commanding them. The King of Aten leads the lot, Aten-Sur Atenguard. So we must hurry. We must not only hold the Grimwing Pass and the forts. We must bypass this enemy to ride after Crec. I must take most of the nobles off to war in two days, in order to take after Crec in the north. You will defend these forts in the meantime. You. Some others.”

  We stood there, thinking. Balissa cleared her throat. “And the people?”

  Baduhanna turned to her with a confused look on her face. “People?”

  “Women, elders, craftsmen,” I answered. “Children. There are tens and hundreds of thousand of them out there in the land. Many are streaming to Dagnar. They will be undefended. We cannot take them to the Grimwing Pass. They will be exposed to winter, and the forts don’t have space.”

  “Of course they won’t,” Baduhanna said simply. “You need to save supplies for the men who defend the pass and the forts there. It’s not for the civilians.”

  “What then?” I asked her. “What shall they do?”

  “Oh,” Baduhanna said. “They’ll have to hide.”

  “Where?” Balissa asked, perplexed. “The enemy, if there are no soldiers, will take all the towns, villages, cities. Should they go to the mountains, and suffer the winter there? Hide in the mines?”

  Baduhanna sighed. “In Hel’s war, hundreds of thousands died. It was a mad butchery for ten years. What matters are the soldiers. The rest are just mouths to feed. The hardy ones shall survive, and if we win, cities, families, lives shall be remade anew. Concentrate on what are the most important goals, Balissa and Maskan. We need to get to the north to win.”

  “North to win,” Illastria said slavishly, and I resisted the urge to throw the old woman to the harbor.

  Balissa turned to me. “Well, King? What say you to that?” She was beyond worry for the civilians. She had spent her life defending the land under Morag’s rule.

  Baduhanna sighed. “We have no time to spare for those who cannot fight.”

  “Many can hunt,” Balissa said. “They can fight. But the rest must be protected.”

  “We don’t have food or troops to spare,” Baduhanna said, with cold finality. “They must find their way elsewhere. And they can be useful.”

  I felt cold shivers travel up and down my spine. “Useful?”

  “Useful,” she said callously. “We have no idea yet what is coming from the south, and what will be thrown at the fortresses in the passes. We must keep that pass free, should we win in the north.”

  “Explain yourself,” I said.

  She smiled, and Illastria was looking nervous, sensing the tension. “We must think like the enemy thinks. The dead have plans, alternative plans. They prepare for eventualities we don’t anticipate, and we must as well. So, when the enemy arrives, the Stone Watcher must relieve you in the fortress. You need food for the noble garrisons, and for the soldiers, if they make it to Dansar’s Grave. The civilians cannot be there, eating it up. Instead, they will be fleeing left and right, and will distract and slow down the enemy. It can be seen in Alantia, over the passes. The enemy spread to chase down people. It will be so in Fiirant as well.
They will take Dagnar, and it will buy you precious days, Maskan.”

  She looked away, beautiful and cold like the draugr. Illastria was clutching her hand, so nervous she was shaking, and Baduhanna stroked her face, like she would a dog. She cared, she did. She was not a monster.

  And yet, she was.

  “Children, women,” Balissa hissed. “Tools?”

  “Tools to save more children and women later,” Baduhanna said with growing anger. “Be like the king you want to be, Maskan. Do you agree?”

  “King?” Balissa said, with despair.

  I opened my mouth, but only a weak croak came out. Balissa spat, and pushed past me. “Coward,” she growled. “My King, the coward, ice-blooded as she is. A Boy-King.” She stalked away, furious.

  “And Morag didn’t use his soldiers callously?” I called after her, clearing my throat. “Didn’t he, in fact, kill the ancestors of these humans before he planted himself their king?” I yelled, but Balissa paid me no heed as she stamped away. “Have you not killed humans, Balissa?”

  People in the street were looking at us with trepidation, and Baduhanna’s face betrayed worry as she looked at us. “Tell me,” she said, as she leaned down on me, “that you will be there, fighting for us.”

  “I will,” I said uncertainty. It was war. War was terrible. Horror without disguise. “But I am not happy you won’t tell me why I cannot go up there. Or why none shall tell me.”

  She smiled. “It is necessary. Trust me. As for the Rose Throne? You were a thief,” Baduhanna asked, with an arched eyebrow. “Now, you need to steal their hearts. In order to be the King, the nobles must love you, or they shall make your life a thing of misery. If I force you on them, you will fall, eventually. If you are unlucky and even a jotun must sleep sometime, you will suffer, eh? You can die in your sleep. Steal the hearts of the army and the nobles, my husband, and you steal Red Midgard. Common people are like mice. They exist to create soldiers and nobles for you. There will always be people.”

  “Not if the Hammers slay the lot,” I whispered.

  “I will try to make you a king, but if not, you must accept it,” she said. “And you must accept that you cannot ask questions about the north. If you do ask them, and mix in Balissa and the others, and risk everything, I shall not forgive you. Or the others.” She looked deadly serious. She said she had a hunch on what the enemy was doing, and it was apparently so terrible, she’s stop at nothing to protect the secret.

  “I will try,” I said, knowing I would not quench my curiosity, or accept I’d not be the king.

  Baduhanna said nothing more of the issue. Instead, she spoke of the defense. She gazed at the Fat Father, the great tower guarding the sea-wall. A massive effort was ongoing on top of it, and more dverg crafted siege machinery was being installed. “It will do no good,” she said despondently. “But, I make a show to defend the city. It will make the nobles think we shall do well here.”

  “Yes,” I forced myself to utter.

  She waved her hand around. “We can defend the city from the galleys. But not the beaches. Crow’s Hook, that narrow approach up the beach in the east, near Dansar’s Grave is a place they might come ashore. In the west, the beaches are vast there, and then, they can simply march up and east, and block the peninsula. It’s a death trap, this city. But, we make a show of it. Is the Old City secure?”

  I nodded. “Supposedly, the last Hammers have been killed.”

  “You fought?” she asked, as she gazed at the stains in my armor.

  I blushed. “I fought … badly. It was accomplished, anyway.”

  “The dverger have secured the land below?” she went on.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “The draugr?” she said icily.

  I felt uneasy with her question. “Sand helped. Shaduril is still on her way to her former home and back. She should return soon enough with the artifacts.” Which I’d keep, I thought.

  “Those things,” she said, and I was not sure if she was referring to the dead or the artifacts, “are dangerous.”

  “They are,” I said, knowing the statement applied to both.

  Baduhanna chuckled and turned to me. “Is she alone?”

  I shook my shoulders, uncomfortable and tired with the subject. She had wanted to be rid of them for a long while. “I sent some dverger with her.”

  She nodded, pleased. “Those artifacts, Balan’s things, are not to be toyed with. Balan Blacktower had a rare skill. Creating things of Gift or War is rare even amongst the elves of Aldheim. There might be things we can use, or there might not be. Some will be deadly. Others suited only for draugr. None shall touch them before I do. And I want her earrings. If she can pass as anyone, I am not happy. You get them to me as soon as she comes back. All of the item.”

  “Yes, Baduhanna,” I said neutrally. She’d not see them, I knew.

  She glanced at me, probably concerned for the rebellious tone, and went on. “That artifact of yours. The one that killed Morag?”

  The Grinlark, the mighty scepter of the kings of Red Midgard, was another artifact Balan had tinkered with. What had once been a magical weapon, had been turned into a portal, and I had carried it straight to Morag, getting him ambushed and killed. It activated and opened up into a glowing, magical staff, and then a portal, when one tapped a Blacktower locket in a certain way. It had also given us victory, as draugr Lith had held the Fat Father and had nearly allowed two Hammer Legions into the harbor to complete the fall of the city. Now, those legions were pillaging Alantia, and trying to cut off Iron Way in the east.

  Such a portal would indeed be mighty weapon.

  Open it up in Dagnar, and let the army ride to where the staff was. Carry it to Heart Hold, and let our army come with us. But, unfortunately, it had limitations.

  I felt reluctant to crush her plans. “There is a range. It’s very limited,” I explained.

  Baduhanna shrugged. “I know. I want the staff. I’ll use it in the north, if there is need. You will not refuse your wife all the help she needs to turn this war around, will you?”

  I felt reluctant, but shrugged as she stared at me closely. I pulled out a locket with the Blacktower insignia, and also a finger length magical bit of wood, which would enlarge into the powerful battle staff with but a word.

  She accepted them, smiled, and leaned to give my cheek a kiss in thanks, which I received, totally torn inside. I hoped Balissa didn’t see the kiss, thinking I was weak and on a leash, and then, of course, I desired the goddess at the same time. She was warm and passionate in the night, if not when she ruled.

  Civilians to slow down the enemy?

  How could she think like that?

  She tucked away the treasure and sighed. “We leave soon, then.” She brooded, her unearthly beautiful face marred by a deep frown. “I will lead ten thousand noble armies to battle, and I will expose Crec for what he is, and I shall slay Mir. But, we cannot afford any mistakes. I am not immortal. While I never truly die, I can be sent back to Odin. Falling to these rotten cadavers would truly doom Midgard. So we must move fast. Do not fail me, and, in doing so, Midgard.”

  “The eastern and western continents are still free,” I murmured. Indeed, there were lands of Midgard only sailors and wealthy merchants knew well.

  She sneered at me. “Tiw knows if they are! And when Balic and Mir conquer the most powerful lands in the middle, the others will fall one by one. Do you not think Balic has not already sent his One-Eyed priests all over this world, sowing distrust and malcontent?” Baduhanna said. “This is unlike the war before. Then, the only thing to do was to amass the humans, destroy those who fought in Hel’s side, and overwhelm the opposition, little by little, taking losses, but inflicting more, until the enemy couldn’t fight back.”

  “I wish I knew more about the past war,” I said.

  She gazed at Black Grip. “That houses the memories of your kings. What does it tell you?”

  I stared at the thing. It occasionally gave me spells, g
limpses of the past, of jotuns I knew were long, long dead. But, they were chaotic sights, and rose in the times of need. “I am still learning to use it.”

  “I will tell you more later, then,” she said, her eyes lingering on mine, as if searching for a lie in my words.

  She pulled me near as she held on to my elbow. Illastria nearly fell, as she did. “What was the great fortress of the Falgrin called?” Baduhanna asked. “Mara’s Brow?”

  I nodded curtly. “Their Queen is called Mara. Has always been called Mara, they say, when they have one. It’s on our border, and overlooks a great river, Aluniel. Heart Hold is on the other side.”

  She nodded and waved her hand. Ten, heavily armed Mad Watchmen emerged out of the shadows, some of the few hundred survivors of the citizen soldiers tasked with the security of the city. They had been all but butchered, and many had left their post after Baduhanna took over. She might be beautiful as the stars in the sky, but she was still not human.

  Or, perhaps, it was all about me.

  Her eyes took in a shrieking group of children, and the colorful tents of the Harbor Side Market, though no foreign merchants sailed in now during the war. Locals were still coming to the city, and that was comforting, though many were refugees. “Can Thrum’s crew ride?”

  I shook my head, not sure. “I suppose so. They need to sit there, and not fall off.”

  She smiled. “We get the nobles, Maskan. And you will tell Thrum to obey me, in case something happens to you. I shall need them, up north. They are the best army in Midgard, but only a few thousand strong, and stuck in this shitty mound of death. They will come with me.”

  “It’s my shitty mound of death,” I reminded her. “My home.”

  “Your home is where mine is, husband,” she chuckled. “I’m still learning this marriage business, but there are bigger things at stake than the land you so love.” She took my hand, and I held on to it awkwardly, our mailed hands entwined. “The two draugr will not come to the forts with you. I don’t want them there. It will be dangerous enough already. You understand?”