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

by Alaric Longward

  “Of course I’ll bloody fight,” I told her. “With what?” I added. “Is my sword here?”

  She laughed, and nodded me inside. It was an armory, and her bunk, apparently, had only a small space between weaponry. Heaps of Aten-crafted chain mail were all over in one corner, greaves and gauntlets, and helmets, with leather neck guards, rolled about in another. Swords and axes had been stuck on the deck and she pointed me in. “Get to it. Armor up, then join me.” She pointed a finger to her bed. There lay Bjornag’s mighty two-hander.

  I mumbled happily, as I rushed to caress the wondrous weapon. “I had a dverg crafted armor. But, I’ll take yours.”

  “Pampered king-boy,” she laughed. “Get a small shield as well. Strap it on your arm.”

  “I know how!”

  She hovered by the doorway, as I ripped at the remains of the chain on me, and then picked up a long one, which I struggled with terribly. The ship rocked, and I fell over the bed.

  “Good gods,” she breathed, and rushed to help me. Together, we jerked the heavy thing over my head and shoulders, and soon, I was covered with the fine, Aten chain. Outside, men screamed warnings, as a shrill sound could be heard, as the enemy scorpions were gauging the range. Something plopped to the sea, not far, to the vast amusement of the men on the deck.

  “Quick,” Quiss giggled, as I fell out of the bunk due to a missed beat by the rovers, and the ship turned ever so slightly. “Here, I have to get to the deck. They can’t wipe their asses, unless I oversee them.”

  “You go—”

  “Fine, you idiot,” she laughed. “Shield. Boots, helmet. You have been trained.”

  “I’m a damned king, girl,” I told her, and she finally left with a mocking laughter.

  I struggled into some fine boots, pulled on thick leather gauntlets, and fitted a helmet on my head, cursing with the leather strap. I walked to the weapons. I girted a short sword on my hip, with a wide belt, pulled a round shield on my left forearm, tightened it, and hoped I could still swing the great sword, and stepped out.

  The enemy was in range.

  A projectile tore past the ship; another rattled along the side. A heap of the side-shields fell to the deck, with a thick and long spear jutting from one. I rushed to peer over the rovers. The Widow’s Dream was splashing near to our portside. Its evil looking ram was cutting the waves. The rovers of Dagnar were toiling madly, so hard the water sprinkled in wide arcs over the sea. The Captain was screaming, as the weapons were being reloaded.

  “Why,” I screamed at Quiss, who was pointing a finger at the Widow, screaming orders, “are we so slow? Surely the men could pull us along faster? Or are they weaker in Aten than in Red Midgard? Do they eat meat or just hay?”

  “They eat well enough!” Quiss yelled. “Don’t make them mad! And I told you. We need that ship.”

  The thick Captain, with his bristling beard, was pointing a quivering finger at me. “Why is this fucking milk-drinker meowing on my deck? Does he have a purpose, other than looking pretty?”

  “It’s King Maskan, Gorth. Some respect,” Quiss said, and winked at the man, making him frown, and turned to me. “On the other hand, perhaps you should question them. It will put them in the right mood to killing Dagnar’s men.” She looked at sword with worry. “That thing is as large as some of my men. Can you hit anything with it?”

  “Lacks in everything, he does,” Gorth murmured nastily, as they turned the hugely powerful scorpion around on a moving, round platform, the weapon well attached to it. The catapult was also ready in the foredeck. Gorth eyed the enemy ship. It was behind, to the left, then to the right, then left again, trying to maneuver and catch us. Gorth’s expert eyes were gauging the movements of the Widow. Then he nodded, and screamed. “Ready to kill the lamb-humpers, boys. Get ready to kill the northerners.” He fixed a feral eye on me, then at the Widow. “Close enough. You might want to sit down and look away.”

  “I’m not squeamish,” I cursed.

  Quiss winked, and pulled on a silvery helmet with a white crescent. “Hold on.”

  Gorth yelled, spittle flying. “Now, lift the starboard oars. Port side! Pulllllll! Hard, like you were taking a proper dump!” he screamed shrilly.

  The oars came up on the starboard side. The men braced themselves. The soldiers threw themselves on the deck, hanging on to ropes. The artillerymen cringed and held on to their weapons, while others clung on to the sacks and crates like mad. The port side rowed, they pulled mightily, forcing the oars under the sea, some cracking in half, throwing the men on their backs.

  The ship turned abruptly.

  It was light enough to move like a spirit over the waves, and the sudden maneuver made the ship tilt crazily, raising a wave over the deck. I fell into the rover’s pit with my sword, and landed between cursing men. The ship straightened, tottered from side-to-side. Men were pushing me off, everyone was rowing now, and I heard orders. The rovers pulled like mad, the ship moved fast, so fast, and I climbed up.

  I cursed with horror.

  Widow’s Dream seemed to tower over us. Quiss was screaming something. The ship was so close I could see the whites in the eyes of the soldiers of the Hawk’s Talon, fingering their sea spears and shields, as they peered over the bow. I spotted the beak of the ram, hungrily turning to hit our galley. Dagnar’s men pulled, screaming like giants, Gorth was laughing, and then, the ram and the ship missed us.

  Muntos was striking the Widow’s railing, his face a mask of rage.

  The two scorpions launched missiles at point blank range on our ass. Another heap of shields went down, two men were screaming, a rover was impaled on his seat.

  “Fire when you can! To left!” Gorth screamed madly, as we turned, and the catapult fired.

  A rain of projectiles, round and spiky, showered down on the Widow’s scorpions. There were a hundred, razor sharp balls, and it looked like a veritable rain of death. Most of them went over the weapons into the sea, but enough fell amongst the men busily cranking their weapons. The men fell down, screaming and bleeding, or silent, and many didn’t move again to touch the weapons. The enemy soldiers fired bows. Arrows fell amongst us, spears rattled, one struck my shield, and then our scorpion fired, having been rewound and turned. It did so when the ship was on top of a wave, briefly looking down at the enemy.

  It also had special ammunition.

  A long, narrow spear of metal trailed a thin metal chain after it, and tore through a thick group of shield toting Hawk’s Talon mariners. Shields bent, flesh was split, and men died, as the weapon tore at the deck, then through it.

  Aten’s men rushed, and pulled the chain taut over a ring of iron on our ship.

  “There are more than us!” I screamed. “You meant to—”

  Quiss screamed defiance. “I told you! We need the ship. They won’t gamble for it, will they? Lob the fireflies!”

  A dozen men ripped open the crate I had wondered at. It was filled with jars of hardened clay.

  “Kill them!” screamed Gorth; with a voice suggesting he was in paradise.

  The catapult was being reloaded, as dozens of spears poured down on the rovers and us. Men screamed, falling, helmets tumbling on the deck.

  “Pull us closer!” Quiss yelled, and she and her crew pulled at the chain, and the ships lurched near, the oars being pulled in on our port side.

  Muntos, the Captain, was screaming something at his men, but I couldn’t hear what, as their rovers abandoned posts, picking up lighter shields and weapons, and dodged behind the heavy marines. More arrows and javelins rained down on us, and then the ships jolted together with an unholy groan, as the Hammer Legionnaires pulled at the chain to secure it on several other iron rings.

  “Throw!” Gorth yelled, as another volley of arrows struck our ship, spilling men on deck. The enemy was concentrating fire on the catapult and the scorpion, cutting down Aten’s men with deadly accuracy. Hawk’s Talon archers were cheering their success.

  But, then, Aten’s soldiers th
rew dozens of jars over the side.

  Some stuck the deck with hollow cracks, splinters flying. Others fell to the roving pits, and yet other landed on my countrymen and their shields.

  Explosions, surprisingly soft, boomed over the sea, splinters of metal and wood, and droplets of blood flew high.

  Twenty men, possibly more, had died or fallen.

  The catapult fired again, the last man pushing the trigger, before succumbing to some more arrows, and a hail of sharp metal ripped across the enemy deck. Shields clanked with impacts, men screamed.

  I turned to look at Quiss.

  She had a nervous look on her face, arrows on her shield, and I guessed the odd bombs had not killed enough of Dagnar’s men. Indeed, the Hawk’s Talon warriors were chanting, the soldiers making a new wall on the deck, as the ship heaved together in their unhappy marriage. We were equal in strength now.

  Muntos dodged a javelin, and rushed down to the fore of his men. He lifted a huge hammer high, screaming orders at his men, and Quiss did the same to the Hammer Legionnaires.

  It would be costly victory.

  If we managed one.

  The ships separated a bit, our men pulled them together. We fought to stand.

  “At them!” Quiss yelled.

  “Gut the maggots!” Gorth roared.

  “Over, and bring them low!” Muntos shrieked.

  Everyone moved at the same time.

  Our men crowded for the railing, balancing over the rover’s pit and planks, which had been thrown over them. I moved myself into their midst. All our rovers had picked up bows and javelins, and were hopping for the bow and after decks, and then, the Captain of the Widow’s Dream jumped over. A hammer came down on a legionnaire, arrows flew, javelins as well, and men fell to the sea. One Hawk’s Talon marine was crushed between the ships, but many made it over. Spears split flesh, crested enemy hacked into us like mad things, shoving amongst us, dying as they stumbled. Quiss stabbed a man dead, another killed Quiss’s shield guard, and I lost sight of her.

  I went to war.

  Happily, the familiar rage surged through the boundaries of the magical ring; the rage coated my fears with bravery, as a fraction of jotun’s strength filled my limbs.

  A man in a rich, crested helm slammed his ax at me, many others behind him pushing over the side.

  I was guarded by shields left and right, and slammed down the sword from above; so hard a shield was broken into splinters. The man’s face distorted in horrendous pain, his arm gone, and he disappeared. I slammed the sword down again, and again, slaying men who stood before me, trying to get over. I kicked at enemy trying to get past, and slew Dagnar’s warriors with wild abandon, Aten’s shields deflecting spears aimed at me. An arrow smacked into my helmet, but I growled the pain off. On the sides, I saw two Hawk’s Talon warriors split Aten’s men, killing rovers, until Gorth and his sword appeared, and the enemy fell in tangles of legs and blood.

  The battle lines dissipated, and a mad melee took its place. I ripped the sword through two frightened rovers, and then, a shield bearing, heavy marine tried to spear me. His eyes glittered with fear, but the spear was in the hands of a practiced warrior, and the blade ripped to my chain mail. He bawled a challenge, and killed a man near me, his eyes never leaving mine, and then he surged for me. I rammed the shield into his face. He howled, spitting teeth, and dragged me with him. We fell to the deck, rolling as Aten’s men took my place behind us.

  I pushed the marine away, rammed my helmet into his face, and climbed up, trying to keep my balance.

  I bumped into Muntos.

  He turned, roared, and hammered at me.

  I caught the hammer, rage coursing in my veins, and struggled with him. His eyes focused on mine, and he stammered, “King?”

  “Yes,” I cursed him. “Why didn’t you call me one before? Tell your men to stop fighting!”

  He spat, and tried to rip his hammer free. “Traitors don’t order me—”

  Quiss slammed her shield in the man’s back. I grinned at his dimming sight, and whirled, feeling there was a man behind me. The sword pushed aside a spear, and I cleaved down hard, lopping off a leg and an arm.

  The fall of Muntos ripped the heart out of the remaining enemy.

  In the end, they retreated to their ship, limping away and bleeding. Our men, not many left, leaped after, and there, an officer surrendered them, as they saw the futility of the battle. They laid down their weapons, and kneeled, humiliated, weeping with shame more than wounds.

  I found Muntos, while Gorth was attending to the business of disarming the enemy and finding any who were hiding. He was on his knees, holding his head, staring at me balefully. “You,” he cursed. “The one who caused all the hardship for Dagnar.”

  “Did I? Who rules in the city?” I asked him coldly.

  He spat blood. “Lady Helstrom. Of course.”

  “Lord Ban?” I asked.

  He hesitated. “He died this morning, after the Aesir left. Accident.”

  I smiled and he blushed. “Baduhanna?” I asked him.

  He nodded for the North. “She has moved with the nobles and the dverger to the passes. Yesterday morning. This morning, they muster the rest of the nobles in Dansar’s Grave, and ride for Hillhold. They have been delayed, but are going. They go to defeat the legions. and then, the false king, Crec. They will.”

  “No, she won’t. She is betrayed, like Ban was, and not by me. Dagnar?” I growled. “The people?”

  He shook his head. “It is up to the Lady Helstrom to deal with their needs.” There was a brief, uncertain and haunted look on his face. “She claimed the city is in no danger.”

  “She would,” I snorted. “She sold me out. She is Balic’s lapdog, like is her husband.”

  He said nothing, mulishly glowering at me.

  I toed him. “We have to get to the city.”

  He shook his head. “Sealed. All the gates are closed. Locked and guarded. None can enter. None can leave.”

  Quiss shrugged. “Not a problem.” She was spitting blood from her lip. “It’s no issue.”

  I looked at the Widow’s Dream. “They still let you in, right? The ship?”

  He stammered, and finally nodded. “Yes. Perhaps. But, they will eventually kill you, no matter what ship you sail, pirate king.”

  Ì smiled at him coldly, my face running and taking his handsome features. “They would, but I shall get in, nonetheless.”

  CHAPTER 16

  The Hammer Legionnaires were unhappy. The thirty rovers and twenty surviving men had had to abandon their beloved ship for something they called ‘an unlucky bit of bark,’ and I wasn’t happy with it, either. We had watched Merman’s Kiss recede, forlorn and filled with the prisoners, whom we had left there tied down in the hold. The Hawk’s Talon dead were in row across the deck.

  I had liked Quiss’s ship. She had loved it, and I squeezed her shoulder, as she wept for it.

  “Maybe you see it again?” I suggested. “It was your idea. Though it is a great idea, I feel—”

  “Perhaps I’ll see it again,” she allowed, wiping tears from her pretty eyes. “But, first, we have a war to fight.” Quiss pulled off her helmet, and frowned at a dent on top, and some of the missing feathers in the crest. “I haven’t told the men they have to wear Dagnar’s armor yet. Hope they don’t mutiny. I let Gorth do it.” She slapped her hand on my chest, where Captain Muntos’s armor adorned my torso. “Looks good. Ours looked better.”

  There were heaps of northern armor on the deck, stripped from the prisoners.

  “What were those bombs you lobbed at my countrymen?” I asked her mirthlessly.

  She smiled. “Expensive, for one. Got them off a western trader. Something they make in Atorra, the Blue Island of the South. He was selling them in the Trader’s Heap last year. A hive of scum by the coast to the east, near the Golden City. They are excellent, because they don’t start fires, but kill like the plague.”

  “Cost a lot?” I asked, won
dering at one. “We could use thousands like it.” I unwisely tossed one up, and grasped it out of the air. They were heavy. Probably would kill a man quite spectacularly, if a crack appeared. Quiss grasped it from me, smiling nervously.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Didn’t pay for them. We waited outside the harbor, and took the ship the moment they had left. They were convicted of crimes in several ports of the Verdant Lands, so we got to hang them in the end. Kept them. We only have some left.”

  “Take some with us,” I said.

  “Only one left,” she answered and gazed at her crew, who were mocking the Hawk’s Talon uniforms Gorth pointed a finger at. She nudged me. “The men. They think you did well. Even Gorth.”

  “I did do well,” I said. “And now, we must find Hilan.”

  Hilan. Why did she betray the land?

  Perhaps she had been promised eternal life as well.

  And Baduhanna had not seen it. Poor Ban Valtair. His house was gutted, especially if the enemy had taken Hillhold by treachery. I cursed Baduhanna. She only saw horses, arms, and men, and trusted the greedy, and she had needed Hilan to gain the army. That was all that had mattered to her. She might have thought I’d keep Dancer’s Grave for her, no matter what happened in Dagnar.

  Quiss interrupted my thoughts. “We’ll be there with you, Maskan, even if we look like fools,” Quiss chuckled, as Gorth kicked one of his men for having put the Hawk’s Talon helmet on his head the wrong way around. The rest of the men were busily cleaning up the deck from Aten’s gear. It was obvious the ship had been in battle, since the bow was ripped, and it was dark and bloodied in places.

  “Tower of the Temple,” I muttered. “Surely that’s where the traitor Regent is holed up.”

  “In we go, then,” she said nervously, as a magical sight emerged from a fog.

  A mass of mountains rose to the sky. The Blight. Then, the peninsula, where Dagnar had been built on the high hill, almost a small mountain. Dagnar’s spires could be seen reaching for the sky and on the top, Tower of the Temple stood majestically. The coast was gray and dark green, as cliffs stretched to the West and East. Birds skimmed low over them. To the west of Dagnar, the vast beach front, with noble mansions, offered easy way to disgorge enemy legions. To the East, the Crow’s Hook, a tight way from a rocky beach to the top, past Hawk’s Talon fortress, would allow them to rush after Baduhanna.