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

by Alaric Longward

  We were in a tower. It was unbearably hot, with a brazier burning to the side.

  There was a tree trunk sitting upright in the middle of the room.

  It was greasy, sturdy, littered with rings and chains. There were desks full of torture tools; tongs, knives, axes, and things I had no idea how one would use. As far as torture chambers went, it was plain and simple, and lacked many of the finer tools of the trade.

  The room was filthy with blood, in stinking pools on the floor.

  “Well,” the Lord said queasily, eyeing the hot chamber from the doorway. “Let’s get to it.”

  The Sergeant threw me the ring of keys. He shook his head. “Told you. I’ll not do it. I’m just a guard, but I won’t touch her. Some of the boys do this shit, but they are broken-minded bastards. Boot lickers, and shame to the Watch. They look just the sort.” He nodded at the four men with Ikar, who fumed. The Sergeant was probably unpopular one in the Watch.

  “Where is this old lady?” I asked him.

  He shrugged, and tapped a foot on the floor. I saw few trapdoors around the place. “She’s here. Told you, no room elsewhere, and it’s actually pretty warm and nice in here. The warmest cell in the house.”

  He blushed as I stared at him. Had he tried to give Illastria, if it was she, a warm cell?

  He went on. “I doubt they have questions for her. I hate this shit, but locking a real criminal in here is really quite effective. Many start speaking up pretty fast, after they listen in on their friends getting questioned above.” He fixed his eyes on Quiss. “Just tell them everything. If you don’t know an answer, invent it.”

  “Why, thank you,” Quiss said, with a small voice, and smiled.

  The Lord pointed a finger at the door. “Feel free to leave. And you, Captain, strip her.”

  “Strip her?” I asked him.

  “Why, yes,” he said, gesturing at the trunk. “Hang her there, tits bare, and she will—”

  I struck him.

  The fist connected with his face. There was a rain of broken teeth and blood on the floor and the wall, and he broke his nose as he fell. He didn’t move.

  Our men pulled blades, and moved like weasels. Daggers flashed, and the Mad Watchmen, who had accompanied the Lord, fell so fast some died on their feet. The blades stabbed, and then we squared off against the Sergeant and his men. The man croaked something, his hand on his sword.

  There was a brief silence. Quiss stepped before us. “So, you prefer not to torture women?”

  “No,” he said, staring at us with shock and worry, his hand on his sword “That was surprising. What are you about, then?” His men reluctantly drew blades and flanked him, frowning, praying, preparing to die, their eyes on the fresh corpses of their fellow watchmen.

  I let my face change, and my own heavy features, strong jaw and long dark hair, replaced the more delicate features of Captain Muntos. I flipped out my helmet, and frowned at them. “You know who I am?”

  “I do,” he said slowly, his eyes glinting. “The man who is not a man, but wants to rule men. Whose Father cheated us, all throughout our history.”

  I had hoped he would have mentioned the word ‘king,’ but he didn’t. “That’s right,” I told him.

  “Kill him,” Gorth said, exasperated. “Why would we spare them, if we didn’t spare these?” He kicked a corpse. “Stop talking with them, and send them to their next life.”

  Quiss raised her hand. “This one seems to be unhappy. Unhappy men might be useful. He also seems a decent man. We have a war to fight still, remember?”

  The Sergeant opened his mouth, and then shrugged. “I am unhappy. So are many others. There are rumors Dagnar is not as safe as the Regent claims. And Ban’s death? Some say he was pushed off the wall. Some say they saw it.”

  “More than rumors, Sergeant,” I said, and nodded to the doorway. “Think fast if you will join us or go to Hel. We are expecting company. Illastria Blacktower? It is her down there?”

  He stood still, and tapped a foot where he was standing. “She is down this one. You are betraying the city?”

  “No,” I said. “The Regent is.”

  He looked shocked. “You claim so? You wish me to open the trapdoor?”

  “She’s my friend,” I said simply, “and we’ll get her out of here as well. And then, it’s time to take the city back from the Regent, who is in the service of the enemy, and about to betray the city and the goddess to Balic’s Hammer Legions.”

  His eyes gleamed, and he ground his jaws together. “They are coming, then?”

  “Thirty thousand men,” I said.

  “For Dagnar?”

  “For Dagnar,” I stated coldly. “And we have to rally the people to fight them.”

  He snorted and laughed. “Rally? The people? To fight them?”

  “Or let them die, like pigs at a butcher,” Quiss snarled. “Is that what you wish, Sergeant? We have much to do. And we’ll start by removing the traitors.” She kicked Ikar’s unconscious body.

  “Yes, I see …” the Sergeant said, and seemed to make up his mind, duty and fear fighting inside him. “I understand. My general.”

  “Not the King?” I asked him.

  “We need a general,” he said, with a small, embarrassed smile. “Don’t know about kings and such. A hero is what we need. I saw you fighting for us before. People forget that. Instead, they believe big lies, because such lies easily explain all their trouble. I’m no judge, nor a nobleman, but there is something going on, and I believe you.”

  Gorth snorted. “You two should get married.”

  I gave Gorth an evil eye, and nodded at the Sergeant. “The Regent is a traitor. This twisted one,” I said icily, and toed Ikar, “possibly less so, but still an enemy to my house.”

  “As long as you fight for us,” he said, “I don’t mind looking away in his case.” He winked roguishly, and his men relaxed a bit.

  “I won’t be able to fight like I did, but I will try my best. We need the city to help.” I indicated at the other two. “What about them?”

  They looked at the Sergeant. He nodded. “My cousins, as well as watchmen. They do what I tell them to. Because they are not sergeants, but guards, and stupid to boot.”

  They took it in a stride.

  Quiss’s men lowered their weapons, and opened the ropes in her wrists. She beamed a smile at the Sergeant.

  “She is the princess of Aten?” the Sergeant asked timidly. “Really?”

  “Princess of Aten, and an ally,” I told him, and grasped Ikar, son of Crec and Hilan, and pushed him to the trunk. I had killed his big brother on the roof of their home, and I wasn’t sure Ikar would survive the day either. I was beyond caring. Gorth helped me, another man grasped the keys from me, and soon, the bastard was hanging from locked chains, with his hands high above his head. His toes barely touched the ground.

  “Just to make it authentic,” Quiss growled, and pulled the man’s pants down, ripped at his tunic, and cut off his loincloth. He shivered in his unconsciousness, blood dripping to his chest from his nose. “That’s what you get when you wish to see the tits of a princess, or any woman, against her will.”

  “Ferocious one,” the Sergeant muttered approvingly. Quiss had that effect on good men.

  I hesitated, and gestured for the trapdoor. “Let me see her,” I told the Mad Watchmen. “Move.”

  They stepped away. I grouched before the trapdoor, and grasped it.

  “You’ll need the keys,” the Sergeant said, and began to fetch them, but I didn’t let him, as the rage filled me. I had lost Sand. Shaduril and Balissa were gone, and I was in a fey mood. I grasped the metal, and yanked. I felt the power course in my veins. I missed my jotun’s form, the raw, unkind strength which left enemies mangled, but what I was given was enough. I pulled up the trapdoor, it came out with a chunk of stone, and I threw it aside, where it smashed against the wall with a boom and a clang. I gazed down at the hole, and there, below, a familiar face looked up from a straw bed
. It was Illastria, her old, worn face a worried frown.

  I stared down at her.

  She looked up at me. Then she looked away, and sorry. “Maskan.”

  I swore there was a look of regret and fear in her face, and then a small, ghost of a smile.

  “Yes, it is I. Are you all right?”

  “Maskan,” she said simply, as if she were not surprised. “You survived. You came.”

  I nodded down at her. “You didn’t think I would?”

  She smiled, her long hair disheveled, as she smoothed it in place. “They said you wouldn’t. And yet …” She hesitated, and shook her head. “I thought you might. I am sorry. They surprised me.”

  “Have you seen Shaduril?”

  She shook her head. “No, Maskan. Hilan put me in here and I know nothing.”

  “Did you see a horned one with Hilan?”

  She shook her head. “Didn’t see. Not sure why they spared me. Please, no more questions. I am tired.”

  I pointed a finger at the Sergeant. “Get her out. She is in the hole for a reason.”

  The sergeant scowled like an unhappy bear, and dropped the rope down to the hole.

  “And, now, Sergeant, “Quiss smiled, relieving the tension, “can you put a gag and a bag on the pup.” She slapped a hand on the belly of Ikar.

  “Happy to. Just don’t cut his balls,” he mumbled. “I hate the sound they make when the danglies fall.” He tore a filthy rag from a mop, and tied the young man’s mouth. The Sergeant nodded to Quiss. “Should I serve her as well?”

  “Why?” I asked. “She is the Princess of Aten.”

  “I thought you two might—”

  “Just guard her with your life, and keep your paws off her, Sergeant. Name?”

  “Ragga,” he mumbled, bowing to the Queen. “Ragga of Morass. A town— “

  I saw Illastria getting pulled up. A watchman lifted her to lean on the wall, and the thin woman in white robes was nodding thankfully, her eyes lit with worry. “Baduhanna didn’t take you with her?” I asked her. “She was very attached to you.”

  “I don’t know why,” Illastria said weakly. “She had to leave, I suppose, and I was locked up. I don’t know what they wanted with me.”

  “You’ve read the Book,” I said softly.

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Can you tell me—“

  “Baduhanna told me not to,” she whispered. “I am sorry.”

  I cursed and turned away. At least she was safe.

  We waited. Quiss was thumbing through a thick book she had found on the table, frowning at the techniques of torture and laws of Dagnar on the subject.

  There was a clanging sound downstairs. People were calling out, someone was arguing with a guard, and then a woman’s high-pitched voice called out. “Where? Up in the Meat? How dare they take anyone there without my leave?”

  Hilan Helstrom.

  Oh, she was upset, and terrified of her new master’s wrath.

  “Yes, Regent, up there,” another voice answered. “We didn’t know. Your son—”

  “My son is an utter idiot! Can you not see it on his face? Give him coins to play with, but not prisoners! How is it possible anyone would take orders from him! Fast!”

  “Well, looks like the dear mother’s going to be here soon,” I said, with a smile. Ragga stepped close to Ikar, and pulled a bag over his head, and I gave the boy a speculative glance and spoke. “We want her in before we attack. No tits on the man,” I said appraisingly, “and the balls give him away, but it will have to do to draw her in. She’s not expecting anything, is she? It’s time to see what she knows, and then, we’ll make an end of her. What evil she is up to, we shall know soon. Gorth, make sure none leave.”

  He nodded, and the rest of the men prepared.

  “To the sides,” Gorth said, and maneuvered his men to the walls, waiting for the enemy to arrive. Ragga was grinning, apparently happy with his new allegiance, and the Atenites were all bulgy eyed, gleeful with the hope to kill some more of their enemy. The clatter of people rushing, coming closer, filled the tunnels. There was a shout up the stairway, and I nodded at Ragga.

  “What? Who is down there?” he roared, as he stepped to the doorway.

  Hilan hissed like a cat. “Do you have the Princess of Aten up there? Do you? And is my son, Ikar, there, soldier?”

  “The Princess of Aten’s here, my Queen. Nude as the day she was born. And your son’s drooling, my lady. She hasn’t told us anything, yet.”

  “You release her this very instant!” Hilan called out, with her grating voice, as she rushed up. “This very damned instant! She is a royal, and shall be treated a royal. War or not, she’ll go back to her father. Release her, and beg she doesn’t want you hanging there in her place after. I’m sure she will!”

  “Her father’s army,” the sergeant cursed, “is waging war in eastern Red Midgard against our people. We could not know she was to be served breakfast, instead of hot iron!”

  Gorth chortled and whispered. “Not sure he knows how to hold his tongue, but I like him.”

  The disbelieving hiss below made us all smile. “You … you speak to me thus? Insolent! You will do as I say, Sergeant,” the Regent yelled shrilly, climbing up faster now. “Ikar! Show yourself!” She sounded as furious as a scorched cat.

  Gorth nodded, and stepped back. “She has six men with her, noble guards of her house. They came up, swords drawn,” he whispered. “Look like a mad, unreasonable lot. Ten seconds.”

  Hilan stepped out of the doorway in five. She wore a robe of golden thread, a belt of silver, and held a newly crafted, silver-tipped staff of office. “Cut her down … eh?” she asked, her eyes enlarged, as she stepped forward. Her eyes went to slits, as she spied the hapless man hanging from the trunk, not sure what she was seeing. She turned in fury to me, then Quiss, and then back at me, her eyes bug-eyed. “You!” she said.

  “The King is back,” I growled at her terrified face. “Your regency is over. Kill them.”

  Spears stabbed forward, killing two of the enemy. Gorth slipped to the passageway, blocking it with his shield, and the noble guards whirled, attacking in terrified despair. A weapon struck at Gorth’s shield, but the Captain’s spear opened up the belly of the attacker. Hilan’s guards stabbed around with wild abandon, killing one marine, but Ragga rammed his sword at a tall man’s spine, making him yelp, and fall on another guard. The last two enemy fought valiantly around the Regent, and the wild melee took surprisingly long time.

  I pushed between the two fighters, and my sword went up, then down in rage, dropping one of the enemy to the floor half senseless, his helmet dented. Quiss stabbed the man to death. I went forward, but the last man ran to Ragga’s sword, crying his way to Hel, as the efficient sergeant eased him to a wall, whispering comforting words to the dying man. Illastria was smiling, almost joyous, and that odd sight nearly cost me my life.

  The Regent moved fast. So fast, it was impossible to understand.

  She grasped a spear from the ground, charged me with viper’s speed, and ripped a spear tip past my face. I shoved her off, but the spear was there again, the Helstrom woman moving and dancing like a thing of mist. My sword intercepted the stab, and she dodged away from me, then Quiss, and jumped at Gorth, trying to get past him.

  The shield didn’t move.

  She smashed into it, fell back, hissing in anger, and that was when my fist struck her in the back of her head, and she crumbled.

  The battle was over. The enemy was dead. And I had the Regent.

  She had fought well. Too well, I thought, and nodded at the Sergeant. “Take your men to the guard room. If someone comes querying what we are doing, lie. Tell them there was an escape attempt. Or—”

  “I know how to lie, my king,” the man said, with a proud sniffle. His eyes went to the crumbled woman. “You handle her? How did she—”

  Quiss nodded. “We can handle her. Bind her.”

  They did, as I stalked around the room. I
considered the Regent, and I knew something was terribly wrong.

  I kicked her, and she twitched instinctively. Quiss held a blade on her head, and flipped her around with her foot. The woman stared at me balefully. I spoke to her with icy tones. “Stop pretending. You are not hurt. Not at all.”

  “No, I’m not,” she hissed.

  “Your son hangs here, Regent,” I said. “The son you probably don’t really care about, not now, eh?”

  “Probably not,” she spat. “Perhaps never did.”

  I nodded at Gorth, who placed a blade on the man’s navel. “I have a hunch you’d not mind if he put it through the bastard? Right? You see, this is how I planned to make you tell me everything. Everything, indeed. Who betrayed whom, and so on. All the filthy plans you have with Balic, eh? That was the plan.”

  “A sad, pitiful plan,” she stated. “Worthy of an ice-brained jotun.”

  She glowered at me, and didn’t so much as flinch, as Gorth pressed the blade in the boy’s skin, drawing blood.

  “No?”

  “She cares not,” Quiss said.

  I rubbed my face, and kneeled before the woman. “You are one of them, are you not, Regent? You have been killed and raised.”

  She said nothing. And yet, her face changed, and a fairly live looking Hilan peered up at me, except for a very pale color. “Well guessed.”

  “She is draugr,” Quiss said softly. “She is one of them.”

  “She wasn’t one when I left the city,” I said. “She was alive. I saw her breathing hard, and sobbing.”

  “You sure?” Quiss asked. “She might have been pretending.”

  I glanced at her. “No, she was crying. I saw tears.”

  The Regent chuckled. “I like a king so confused and afraid. Like a mouse that once fell into a hive of sleeping snakes, you are paranoid and skittish. But, this time, you are right to be.”

  “I’ll step on the snakes, bitch, and grind them to dust,” I told her. “That creature I saw in your mansion? It was a draugr, right?”