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

by Alaric Longward

  There were no pillars of smoke rising in Fiirant yet, no signs of war yet. Beyond Grimwing Pass, through the Blight, I imagined distant pillars rising lazily to the sky, and I thought, but wasn’t sure, that there was a sort of a haze across the horizon.

  Soon, we approached the gates. There was great deal of movement, as the local guards of the Mad Watch and some archers were rushing about the huge towers and the walls. Many ballistae from the Fat Father were aimed our way.

  “Keep rowing, you sea-rats,” Gorth muttered at the rowers, who were casting concerned glances at the great tower.

  The chain across the harbor didn’t so much as shudder. A light was blinking in the Fat Father.

  “We answer them?” I asked Quiss. “We cannot ignore it, right?”

  “We will be ignorant, and pretend things are fine,” Quiss said. “They have to have huge balls to fire on their own ship. And there is the chain, right? They should be concerned, but not afraid, yet.”

  We rowed on.

  “Still not moving,” I whispered. “The chain.”

  “We are brazen as hussies,” she explained. “Relax. The ship looks a mess. Our mirrors are gone. We’ll tell them just that, if they let us close enough. As for passwords, we will just curse them, show the corpses, and pretend to be in shock. They will let us in, or kill us. Wouldn’t worry about it.”

  She looked like she didn’t care either way. I steadied my nerves.

  And then, the light went away, and men were yelling across the water. A man was waving his hands on the Fat Father.

  “Your highnesses should get your arses up to the bow deck,” Gorth said savagely. “And get waving and smiling. And you, King. Charm them, like you charm pretty page boys in your court.”

  I cursed him, and rushed to the bow with Quiss in tow. I waved my hand wildly, the men on top apparently recognized me.

  There was a lot of activity up there.

  Then, blessedly, the chain was lowered. It rattled down slowly, and plunged to the gray water.

  “Come on in, said the wolf to the lambs,” Quiss added needlessly.

  “We are the damned, man-eating wolves,” Gorth rumbled, mostly to encourage the men, I guessed.

  On top of the Fat Father, there was the flag of the Helstroms.

  Only that. Baduhanna had truly left.

  “Oh, the bitch Regent must love the sight of the Helstroms banner atop the city,” I said, and bowed to men on top of the Fat Father, looking down at the rows of corpses on the deck.

  The ship careened, as we headed for an empty pier. I eyed the vast harbor, the long piers, far less impressive than Aten’s. The Harbor Side Market was still going, and a sea of colorful tents looked oddly inviting. It looked like home, I decided, and well worth fighting for. “Your father said it has been promised to many of the draugr royals,” I said.

  “What? Red Midgard? Dagnar?”

  “Yes.”

  “Balic is like that,” she answered. “He wants them on their toes, at all times. It might be best to burn it, rather than let the enemy have it. Would upset a lot of them, no doubt? I bet Lisar Vittar and father would love it, though.”

  I stood there, thinking about the future, of a strategy, and of Hilan Blacktower, and wistfully smiled. The enemy was too strong. It was true. And yet, we had to beat them. Or, at least, hurt them terribly. That would cost us a lot of blood, if we even managed to raise the people to fight. And yet, perhaps …

  I smiled wistfully, and knew I had an idea, and the idea might work, but it would haunt me for the rest of my life, and beyond.

  Gorth was speaking near, and I turned to him. “What?”

  “What of them?” he asked. “Won’t they be suspicious?”

  I turned to look at what he was pointing at. “Shit,” I whispered.

  Quiss frowned. “I don’t like ‘shit’ when we are about to put our heads into a noose. What?”

  “The other galley is in,” I murmured. “They’ll know the men.”

  “They’ll come and ask questions, won’t they?” Quiss muttered. “They’ll be curious why this ship looks like it was humped by a whale.”

  “Shit,” I said again. “We’ll need to be fast.”

  She frowned. “The rovers will drop us off. We make excuses, and the ship leaves right away. Take ten men with us, and the rovers leave with ten men. We could have used them all, but they cannot stay.”

  “It will look odd,” I muttered. “But, we have no choice.” I gave her a pale grin. “But perhaps a captured princess will make them happy enough not to ask too many questions.”

  “As long as you don’t leave me with them,” she said with a frown. “Don’t want to kill some rapist, pig-born northerner.”

  I chuckled. “I’ll not leave you with them. The mighty Muntos will not leave his prisoner in distress.” I rattled Muntos’s bloodied armor.

  She smiled, eyeing the piers and harbor nervously.

  The rovers slowed down under the commands of Gorth, and I walked down to the troops to give the orders, though Quiss was nodding over my shoulder to convince them. I pointed a finger at the pier, where the galley usually rested, and the ship lurched as we turned. Quiss came to stand with us, and a man, grinning and shaking his head, tied her arms together, immensely pleased to truss up their princess like a roasting lamb.

  “Remember,” I said. “King Maskan died in the battle.”

  Gorth made an agreeable sound, and I had no doubt he fantasized about killing me. He poked me heavily. “The Queen is all I care about, Beast. The one and the only thing. Get her killed, and you had better look over your shoulder.”

  “Of course not,” I muttered. “And I promise—”

  “He cannot promise that,” Quiss said, ending the argument as we passed piers. “He’ll have to risk it.” Gorth nodded, holding a grudge already.

  The ship rowed on, it approached the decks. I saw some of the mariners of the other ship already stirring on the deck.

  “Quick, off, and march up,” I said.

  “Gods help us,” Quiss muttered.

  We reached the pier, and at that same time, exactly when men jumped to tie us up, a horseman approached with a guard. He was wearing red silken robes, and sat uncomfortably on a high spirited horse. Men of the Mad Watch were following him.

  No, it was more a boy, than a man, I thought.

  The boy was the son of Hilan, Ikar. He was one of those who had been up on their roof, the day they had fooled us and ambushed. Judging by the robes he wore, rich and affluent, and the golden badge, he was the Lord of Coin now, overseeing the trade and the wealth of Dagnar. “We are in luck.”

  “Huh?” Gorth asked.

  “He’s Hilan’s son,” I whispered, so he wouldn’t hear me. “We must hope he is greedy for glory. I know he is kept in the dark of his mother’s business. At least he was. I heard him speaking, wishing his mother would tell him more. Let us hope that remains so.”

  “If he is not?” Quiss asked.

  “He is an idiot,” I said. “He is like a lapdog. I doubt his mother would dare tell him anything substantial.”

  “But if—”

  “Then, we are finished,” I told her. “Sure, they are my enemy, they tried to kill me and Balissa, but he has most likely been fooled into thinking their mother is not a traitor to Red Midgard.”

  “That’s a lot of assumptions,” Gorth said, and spat over board. “A lot.”

  “I heard him whining,” I muttered. “Let’s find out.”

  “Muntos?” Ikar yelled.

  I lifted my hand, as men threw ropes to the men on the docks. I stepped to the side, and leaned over. “Is that you, Ikar?”

  The boy stuttered. “Yes. Of course. Who else? Any news? I see there must be.” He indicated to the missing parts of the deck. “Mother told you were not to engage the enemy! Did she not?”

  She would. But he called them the ‘enemy’ and that was a good sign. I smiled down at him.

  “We are at war, Ikar!” I yelled,
as the ship shifted in the dock.

  “But—”

  “We intercepted a ship out there,” I said, doing my best to mimic the tone of the captain Muntos. “We captured the princess of Aten. Lost a lot of men, though.” I pushed Quiss to the edge of the ship.

  “Oh, excellent? Quiss of Aten?” he said breathlessly. “My, but this is supremely good news.”

  I had been right. He thought his mother served Red Midgard. Attacking the jotuns that night, had been just family business for them.

  “We’ll take her up to the jails,” I told him brusquely. “And the ship heads back out. There is fog descending, and the men think they saw something, so they’ll have to go and see.”

  “You need more men, surely?” he stuttered. “The ship is nearly unmanned. And there are corpses aboard!”

  “The bodies won’t bother anyone. They are silent enough. We need to stop wasting time,” I said too loudly. The Captain was ever cool as ice, save for in battle, and I calmed myself. “We have to hurry. She is worth her weight in gold. I’ll need to have her under the locks, and set the torturer on her.”

  He squinted. “Weight in gold, eh? Mother said there would be no war.”

  I shook my head at him. “I think they are betraying your mother’s trust. We can, perhaps, save her.”

  He looked delighted by the idea. Then he looked greedy. “I tell you what. I take her up, and you go do your sailor thing in the sea? How’s that?” He stuttered, as he saw my scowl. “I’ll, of course, compensate you well, if there is a weigh of gold to be had, later. And you’ll share in the glory, if whatever she knows helps us. Promotion, surely, would go long way.”

  “I tell you what,” I said, and eyed the main road leading up the hill. “You and I go up there, call your mother, the Regent, and make sure the crew doesn’t get cheated, eh?”

  He hesitated, stuttered, wiped his long hair back over his shoulder, and I could feel Quiss was fighting an urge to giggle at the fool. He nodded, and waved me to the shore. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll send my mother word from the Mad Watch prison.”

  “Excellent,” I said. “Happy to do business with you, my young lord.”

  He blushed and turned.

  We lifted Quiss to the shore, where people stared and growled at her, though she suffered far less than I had in Aten. People of Dagnar were less wordy, and had fewer opinions, but the mood was threatening. Aten was now an enemy, and the people were scared shitless. We marched over the stone pier to the harbor market, and from there to the gates, as Widow’s Dream rowed back out. Some sailors were walking for the now empty pier, confused.

  I was home.

  Up the hill, I heard the Silver Bells ringing above the many gates, people were cheering, and somewhere up there, the traitor Regent of Dagnar was holding some inflammatory speech which had no real meaning, other than to fool the people into a false sense of security. Perhaps she was burying Ban.

  Ikar leaned down on me. “We take her to the same dungeon we hold the other prisoner in. We had some spies there this past day. The old one is locked up in there, as well. Mother’s wishes.”

  Who was the old one?

  Illastria?

  CHAPTER 17

  The Shining Court opened up before us. The walls around the Tower of the Temple gleamed with metal, as few remaining noble guards and Mad Watchmen stood on the battlements. The recently and hastily repaired gate was closed fast.

  The Mad Watch prison was located past the ancient tree, beyond the Singing Garden, where skulls and bells hung from ancient branches, many broken by war. The bells run sadly, as we marched past the squat barracks of the Mad Watch. The Singing Garden was a strange mix of peace, beauty, and death, and I noted how Quiss looked up to it, scowling. The red and black skulls hanging from the boughs were the remains of people, who Morag, Father, had hung in his long reign as the King.

  Before us, many noble houses spread in great wealth to our sides, but somewhat out of place and out of sight, behind gardens and small, serene pools of water; there was a round building of immense size. It was gray, and its height was formidable, with thick towers. It wasn’t far from the accursed Helstrom home. Ikar made his way there, and the soldiers followed us. Quiss stumbled along, as Gorth pulled her. Lord of the Coin rode his horse clumsily, while whispering orders to a man of his. The man snapped into attention, and rushed to deliver a message.

  Gods, let him be dumb as an ox, I thought, and not lead us into a trap. We walked for the gates of the building, and ignored the long, curious looks of the off-duty officers of the Mad Watch, and the few civilians who were in sight.

  We got to the doorway, making our way for the yawning dark, where smoke drifted up to arched, red-hued ceilings.

  I pushed past an officer, who tried to stop us. “Out of my way,” I growled. “Have no time for toy-soldiers.”

  Ikar supported me. “We shall wait for my mother up in the torture chamber.”

  The Captain looked shocked, as he stammered his objections. “The Regent would probably wish to meet her elsewhere. The prison is filthy as soldier’s backside,” he called after us, as he was running to try to catch up.

  “The torture chamber,” Ikar snapped. “We will be there.”

  “It hasn’t been cleaned since last night,” the man said, with an apologetic voice. “Not at all. There will be blood all over the place, Lord.”

  Ikar looked slightly pale. “It is no place for the weak-hearted, I know, but Mother knows it well enough, and hardly expects a pruned up palace. I’ll have this princess there, and the Regent will come there, won’t she? This is important. She will be very grateful.”

  Oh, she would fly there to set free her new allies’ relative. She’d be there in a fury, I thought, only to meet with vengeance.

  “You marines need not be there,” the man panted. “We can—”

  Gorth pushed him to the wall, and we marched on. The Lord of Coin gave a short, barking order for the officer to make himself scarce. The man looked mortified, but let us march on. The Lord of the Coin continued with his few guards, looking around at me jealously in the dark corridor; probably sorry I was there. He must have been hoping there would be a large contingent of the Mad Watch left in the city to tell us to scamper off, while he kept the princess, but he couldn’t do that. The guards at the jail stiffened in every corner, the man growled orders, and the doors opened.

  Finally, I stepped into a red-painted corridor, and hesitated. There was a tunnel leading right, left, and a stairway up. I waited for the young lord to enter the stairway leading up, his face red from excitement. I waved him on and spoke. “Torture chamber, Lord, is the right place for the princess, if you wish to show who commands here. There, we shall prepare her. Your mother will be pleased to see her son is such an energetic problem solver, eh, Lord?”

  He blushed at my condescending tone, and was still a bit flattered. He nodded his head for the top of the stairway. “This way, Captain,” he murmured. “There is no torturer, as you know. The Harlot died during the war. We have but amateurs.” He looked at Quiss with a wicked grin. “But, they are willing to learn, of course.”

  The bastard wanted to try his own hand at it, I thought, and swallowed the sudden need to bash his head through the wall. Quiss looked a bit pale, and I guessed she had deducted the same thing. I resisted the urge to give her a reassuring smile.

  “That is fine, Lord,” I growled, and moved with energy, pushing Quiss. “She doesn’t look the sort to resist a heated blade for a long time.”

  “I had no idea you were this ferocious, especially to women, Captain Muntos,” the Master of Coin said. “You seemed much more gallant. But, then, I don’t really know you.”

  “I’ll be gallant, after we make her talk,” I told him.

  “I’m sure you will be,” he laughed. “Though, she will stay there, no doubt. This way,” the Lord muttered.

  We passed a dozen cells. Faces peered at our passing through bars. Some were toothless beggars, others were
probably suspected spies, and some the usual thieves and looters. The prison was packed and full. We came to a guard room, and there, the Lord, lifting his robe’s hem so as not to soil it on the muck in the floor, snapped his fingers, and three Mad Watchmen got up, astonished at the presence of such a high lord, and the oddly, out of place, Hawk’s Talon sailors. “Up, and about,” the lord stammered. “Get up, and open the Meat Chamber.”

  Quiss actually blanched at hearing the name.

  “Who’s the customer?” asked a burly sergeant. He saw Quiss and frowned. “Not her? Surely not?”

  “Yes, her!” the Lord said. “Who else? We’ll have to extract some information.”

  The sergeant spat, as he grasped a ring of keys. “Women here, women there. All going to the Meat Chamber. The murderer yesterday, I could understand, but not her. Where are the men in Dagnar these days?” he muttered. His face was a mask of indignation, gray eyes flashing angrily.

  “What did you say?” The Lord wondered with astonishment at the impertinence of the Sergeant. “Is the room ready?”

  “They questioned a man and a woman there last night, so it will be filthy, but I suppose you do not mind,” the sergeant said and nodded that way. “The old lady is locked up in there as well. Had no other place to put her. Won’t bother you. She won’t complain. Mad as a bat. What could she have done to deserve this, eh? I’ll open the door, but I won’t torture this girl. “ He shook his head in disgust, and looked sorry, as he gazed at Quiss. His men echoed the sentiment.

  Could it be Illastria? What would she be like? I thought.

  “Careful, Sergeant,” said one of Ikar’s guards, with a low voice. “Ours is not to—”

  “I’ll quit at the end of the month, if there’s something to quit,” the Sergeant said, and opened a door, indicating the way. He walked before us, and entered a winding stairway, soon arriving at a red, rusty door. He kicked it open, and the hideous room came into view before us. Quiss even whimpered, and I nearly congratulated her for her fine acting skills, but didn’t, as I realized she was truly afraid.