And, indeed, it was no longer the end of the road.
The dead had come from the Tenginell crypts. Gorth pointed a finger at a dark blot higher in the wall. I moved carefully to the side of the excavated room, and saw there was a hole where the darkness was the heaviest. There was a roughly dug wall, with stone strewn all over. Whoever had dug through the wall had not been the effective dverger, but likely Helstrom men, and they had been instructed by Mir. They had simply ripped into the yellow stonewall and penetrated it. There was light shining near the doorway. I navigated the darkness, and made my way past support beams to the hole. There was still nobody in sight up the incline. I ascended, holding on to the walls, begging nothing would be loose, and then I heard a voice.
I was a female voice, speaking with a slightly bored hiss.
“Shaduril, Shaduril,” it was saying, and I knew it was the woman I had considered Mother for most my life. It was the Queen of the Draugr, Mir. Her voice was echoing. “She didn’t know how to open the door. Nobody here does, and the dverger who built it are gone. So, you will have to break in. We are nearly done here but for my husband’s fine artifacts. Balan’s handwork is not theirs, never theirs. They must not get them. We have the Black Grip, we have the Book, and we have the nasty, lumbering tools, but I want these items. I want them.”
“Yes, mistress,” said one of the dverger. “But, the magic is strong, and there is no weak spot in that room. We will try, and keep trying, as you command.”
“Try harder,” Mir roared.
I placed a hand over the pouch and the Book of the Past, and cursed I had even taken it with us.
“The dverger do not know how?” asked another voice, with mild disappointment. It was Aten-Sur. I knew the voice well. “Do they resist, being different? What if they lie to your face, and you—”
“They do not resist me,” she answered pettily. “They murder each other occasionally, but that is all. I will let them try for several hours more. Then, they can open up a way, or two, into the city for Balic. The city will fall faster than a wingless bird. You needed not come.”
“I’m here to see Balic’s orders are obeyed. And already, they are not. He made it clear, Mir. He explained what he wanted.”
Mir laughed. “He did make it clear. That was before he told me to go with Crec. Things changed, so his old orders were not quite as clear any longer.”
“You squirm,” Aten-Sur said unhappily. ”You lie and squirm and deceive, trying to forget your duty. He didn’t want you to do this.” The voice sounded curious. “You know it well. Always trying to steal from Balic the glory of what is to come, eh? And there is something odd about you. Can’t put my finger on it.”
Mir was laughing. “Odd? No. Nothing is odd about me. You are right. I do want my share of the cake. Balic cannot have it all. Which one came first, after all? He or I?”
“How dare you speak of the One Man like that? How dare you?”
Mir was cackling. “The bastard is too jealous, too suspicious, too afraid. I’ve obeyed him, fixed many of his mistakes, but I want something for myself. It might be so it is my creature that frees the Lady from her slumber. She will know it was my hand, which released her, should we use my pet here. Balic will smile and cry beneath his grin, and see me share the honor. It is right. I’ve not made mistakes, like he has.”
“You have made many mistakes of your own. Your daughters rebelled. Lith’s rebellion released a demi-goddess. And I see nothing but huge mistakes now,” Aten-Sur’s voice echoed. “The way to the city is not open, yet. And you were supposed to perform that deed, and only that, and not resurrect these two. Granted, you did well to deliver Maskan away, and killed the other jotun. That went as planned. But this—”
“Balic need not come to the city at all,” Mir snarled. “Hilan has made it so the legions will get Dansar’s Grave without a fight, and Dagnar will just slow us down. The two have been raised, and he is not needed for that deed. I don’t care if he wanted to do it or not, and I don’t care.”
“How did you circumvent his order not to raise them?” Aten-Sur roared.
Mir chuckled. “He gave me the order to leave the city with Crec right after Morag died, and never enter Tenginell house again. Then he ordered me back to corrupt Hilan, and I did. And I didn’t step into the Tenginell house. I came through the Old City. He should have been more specific. Turns out he wasn’t. It is the fault of many of us. I wasn’t with Lith and Shaduril. Now that has been fixed.”
Apparently, Aten-Sur was fuming. The silence lasted for a good while, and then he spoke.
“He will take the city,” Aten-Sur said. “He wants no enemy behind his back. He hates this place, and this is supposed to be fast, eh? And yet, you have not reopened the under city ways the dverger closed. It is your mission, that, and making sure Hilan Blacktower makes the population drowsy. And I say again. He wanted to resurrect these … things. He might not cry under that grin, Mir. He might rip you apart. You might have sidestepped his orders, but perhaps it wasn’t so wise?”
I shivered, horrified by their words. Father, a draugr? Most of the others fell in battle, but they weren’t Ymirtoes. She had Father. Who else?
“I did take a risk,” Mir said, with a laugh. “I raised them. It must irk you that you cannot.”
Aten-Sur’s voice was supremely irritated. “He wants to make sure no more trouble comes from Dagnar. He will want the city. He will set his flag on top, out of principle. And he is not happy. Balic’s will is what we both must obey. And he gave me the power over you. You have seen the letter.”
Mir shook with rage. “Yes, I read it. I feel I should obey you, and I will. Shut up already, Aten-Sur. He can relax. Why worry? He has Maskan. I merely resurrected the backup plan. He is still the King, and I merely the Queen. But, I was raised the same day as he. He should respect me, and not set his lapdogs over me.”
“I was a king when I lived,” Aten-Sur hissed. “Now I am more. You should kiss my foot. In fact, why don’t you?”
They didn’t know I had escaped, I thought.
I went up slowly, and kicked Gorth’s hand from my ankle. I tried to see what was taking place. A black curtain was drawn across the way, and, with my heart beating so hard it felt like it would burst from my chest, I made my way to it, sure some of the dverger draugr would come stomping back down, and fall over me.
I pulled the drape’s corner aside, and saw Aten-Sur, his long, gray hair heaped over his shoulders, sitting in a shadowy room, with Mir was kneeling before him. She was her dead self, her face bone white and dry, and hands almost skeletal. Her hair and ears were covered with chain coif. She did not hide her dead face. There was no living around to see her. What had been living, the Helstrom guards who had dug the way, dozens, were heaped in the corner. The whole chamber was a mess of opened graves, and discarded corpses which had not been of use to Mir, or which she had failed to raise.
Mir was kneeling before the smiling Aten-Sur, kissing his boot. Her face was one of incredulity, rage, and shame.
“Get up, then,” Aten-Sur said, with a spiteful smile. “Now we have established the proper ranks, oh Queen of the Draugr. You may speak with less arrogance.”
I didn’t see Father. Or even the dverger.
“Yes, King,” she answered. She shot up, as if a serpent had startled her.
“I hear Crec is making good speed?” Aten-Sur said. “When you left him, he was marching for the passes?”
Her voice was subdued. “Things are moving, despite the unfortunate mistake which took place here. He is drawing all our armies with him. It will be enough to take Falgrin’s fortress, the Mara’s Brow. Especially with the deception we have planned.”
Deception?
Aten-Sur smiled coldly, and pointed a finger to the East. “And that Aesir bitch shall fall. This goddess. Dansar’s Grave is betrayed? I know Hillhold fell as did Lord Ban’s men.”
They were dead then. And Baduhanna was surrounded.
“Looks like it is
possible Baduhanna will fall,” Mir allowed. “She will fight very well, but yes, she might die. Balic’s plan is crude—“
“Beware, Mir.”
She went on. “Crude and involves no more than a trap, sword, and spells, but perhaps it is enough. We have thought of all the contingencies. Plans and spare plans have been drawn. All in place. Ultimately, she will not survive tens of thousands of men. But, there will be more, with Balic’s Royal Guard, and the kings and queens who are there.”
“Excellent,” Aten-Sur chortled, and then frowned. “Yes, it will be costly. Very costly. And Balic’s royal guard will indeed deal with her, ultimately. They can all Kiss the Night, though most know only some spells of Fury. Hundreds of our kind will wear her down, and in the end, swords will send her to Odin. Then, we get on with the other plans.”
Mir nodded. “Maskan comes here, with Balic?”
“A family reunion,” Aten-Sur snickered. “After, we go north, and take these things with us.”
“Maskan’s been raised?” she asked. For some reason, I detected a note of sadness in the voice, and perhaps the voice changed a bit. It made me frown.
Aten-Sur frowned as well. “I did say there is something odd about you, and I still think so.”
“I am what I am,” she answered.
Aten-Sur sneered. “Maskan. Yes. Balic changed him. No more surprises from the lad, though I wish you luck when Balic sees what you did here.”
I looked around. I only saw corpses.
I’ll surprise you one more time, you rat-eating cadaver, I thought.
Aten-Sur waved his hand around. “And this is where they were buried, eh?” he asked. “Gloomy. A hill under a house. They like anonymity, I guess. When I finally die, I hope they build a golden mausoleum for me.”
“I shall never die again,” Mir said proudly.
“Show them to me,” Aten-Sur said softly.
Mir snapped a finger. A host of shadows stepped forward, and hundreds of eyes glowed in the dark.
I felt my skin crawl with horror.
Two figures were huge, fourteen feet tall, shambling and deadly silent.
They stepped into the light of a torch.
I went weak in the knees. Morag, Father, stood there, holding a terrible battle-ax, wearing his half destroyed armor. He was rotting, black and white, no longer icy blue of skin, and the many wounds were festering and infested with maggots. Next to him was perhaps a female, with thick, dry hair, and face nearly a skeleton. Mir chuckled. “Meet the Beast of the North, one of the former generals of Hel’s army, the dead king of Dagnar and of Red Midgard, and his bitch of a wife, whom we killed twenty years ago, that night we took his scepter and the boy.”
“Why did you raise the female?” he asked. “She is no Ymirtoe.”
“She was a queen of the clan, and perhaps that makes her one,” Mir said. “I leave nothing to chance.”
“The other jotuns?” Aten-Sur said, looking at the rotting things glaring back at him with eerie silence.
Mir shook her head. “I failed to raise two others. Most were in bad shape, even worse than the female. And they are useless with the Black Grip. There are some I might try bring back, but these eighty dverger were more important. It takes a lot of power to grasp one of the jotuns back from the dead. You wouldn’t know, since you do not have that power.”
Aten-Sur cursed. “I told you to take a wiser tone with me. Perhaps you wish to crawl around for a day on all fours? Do not tempt me. I would love to slay you. That way Balic wouldn’t have to decide who would get Dagnar.”
“I will get it, of course,” Mir said darkly.
Aten-Sur laughed. “We all have our needs. But you needs? You want everything. Glory, crown, cities, jewels. Wonder what risks you will take to get all of that? A draugr will only survive as long as their goals are attainable. No, you will not get Dagnar. Neither will Crec. I will. Or even Lisar Vittar.”
“Lisar?” Mir cursed. “Never.”
Aten-Sur laughed. “We all despise you. Unfortunately for you, her driving goal in undeath is to keep the draugr ranks royal. She wants the north, wanted it when she was alive, so she will covet Dagnar, but more than that, she covets your ugly head. You are not royal. Not really. She has sworn to slay you if she ever sees you. Pray you never run into her. She is coming with the fleet.”
Mir hissed. “The only thing I want is to see Baduhanna die. That is all. The glory comes with it. I will indeed take great risks to reach high above you all.“
Aten-Sur laughed. “That is being taken care of, Mir. You will never get the credit for that.”
“Oh?” she asked with mockery. “I might yet.”
“No,” Aten-Sur said pettily. “Never. As you yourself said, the trap is set.”
I ignored their petty bickering.
I was staring at Morag. The loving father, the mighty jotun I had met but once, was no longer there, even if the flesh was moving. Instead, he was standing like an evil behemoth, staring down at Mir, with deep loathing. Aten-Sur chuckled dryly, finding humor in the terrible place. “Look at him glare down at you. I wonder if you should have let Balic raise him after all. This one might rip your ears off, if you don’t take care. Can you speak, jotun?”
Morag opened his mouth, and black tongue lolled out. “King of Aten?”
Aten-Sur pointed a finger at Mir. “Whom do you obey?”
“The King and the Queen of the Draugr,” Morag said heavily. “I cannot help it.”
“Tell him,” Aten-Sur told Mir, “to obey me.”
Mir looked shocked. “No. He is my tool. To be used, as I please.”
“Now. Immediately,” Aten-Sur said.
I didn’t hear Mir’s answer. I felt Gorth grasp my leg. He was pale as a shadow, and then he shook his head. “What?” I mouthed to him.
“I don’t know. Something,” he whispered. I turned my head frantically in the rough tunnel, and thought I saw glimmering eyes staring at me. Then, they disappeared.
The curtain moved.
I cursed, and saw, for a brief moment, how Morag’s head turned towards the doorway.
“We have company,” Aten-Sur said, and I felt Gorth grab me and start to pull me away. “I don’t know this one,” the draugr lord said. “I smell you in him, Mir. And Balic as well.”
I struggled out of Gorth’s grip.
I peeked under the curtain, and saw Aten-Sur staring down at a figure with a short sword on the belt, wearing leather armor with black dragons. He was barefoot. The dverger shifted, as Sand didn’t answer.
Sand, uncomfortable, stared up at the mighty kings and queens, who all could command him to do practically anything. He was of a peasant stock, they, royals.
And Sand had seen us.
“Speak, then,” Aten-Sur said.
Sand stepped up, his hand clutched on his sword’s pommel. Mir stepped before him, her arms out in mockery of loving embrace. “You are right. This one is mine. Dear boy,” she whispered. “Dear brother. It has been a while.”
Sand and his father, the Bear, had been as much Mir’s victims as I had, acting as a front for Mir to manipulate Morag’s downfall.
Sand stood straight. “I’m not thinking it was long enough, Mother.”
“Just like my other children, only less intelligent,” Mir murmured.
“Shut your mouth, Mir,” Aten-Sur growled. “You here from Balic?”
“I am here from Balic,” Sand said softly.
Aten-Sur smiled. “Got caught, eh? You followed us? You eluded me in the camp, when I took your friend, but you came after us anyway. What news? Wait! You will open up the door to us. To this dverger fort.”
“It is but a room. And I will not,” Sand said stiffly. I saw he was struggling greatly, and I guessed he was terrified they’d spot me as well. “They didn’t tell me the way to open it, either.”
“Hush,” Mir said. “You’ll serve us well, nonetheless. After Taram died, I’ve missed an assassin of note. He had a special relationship with shadow
s, and I feel you might as well. Sneaky, murderous boy, are you not, Sand?”
“I am.”
“Time to damned well leave, Maskan,” Gorth whispered so softly I barely heard him.
He was right. Sand was a horrible risk.
I glanced one more time to Morag, Father, who had died a gruesome death in that very room, with the Red Brother. Ann, the sister of Shaduril, died there as well.
I wouldn’t. I had to hurry.
I slunk to the tunnel after Gorth, and then entered the doorway to the secret room, standing on a plank. I found my way to the door, where I sensed the guard spell was powerful and waiting. “Wait,” I told Gorth, who was almost jumping up and down with anxiety. I sought the gravestone in the middle of the door. I placed my finger over it, and tried to remember the poem.
“Breathe over the cold grave,
there are no dead men to brave.
Tap your finger twice on the bone,
And then kiss the murky stone.”
I did all of it. I breathed on the gravestone. I sought the bone on the stone, tapped it, and kissed the stone.
The doorway glowed and clicked open. It swung out with a small creak. I looked up to the corridor, and slunk down to the large, circular room.
A magical light illuminated the room well. I walked to the table, and saw it was empty. I spotted a sack in the corner. My hands were trembling with fear and anxiety. I walked to it, and grasped it. I hesitated, thinking I might open it somewhere safe, but instead, had to see what was inside.
Shaduril had picked up fine items from her father’s workshop.
The sack was filled with stone and jewel artifacts, imbued with all sorts of powers. Even blocked, I could sense the worth of the items. There were intricate statues, black and red, and rings of many kinds. I grasped one of silvery brilliance, and felt it was heavy as a sword.
Thank Odin she had delivered them before Mir got to her.
I turned to leave, and my breath caught in my throat.
A figure was standing in the doorway. It moved, and I grasped my sword, croaking in alarm. “Maskan?” the voice asked, and it was Quiss.
The Queen of the Draugr: Stories of the Nine Worlds (Thief of Midgard - a dark fantasy action adventure Book 2) Page 23
