The enemy Queen frowned, then nodded. The gates opened, drawbridge fell down over the moat, and the portcullis was raised with a rattling noise, just enough for the horses to pass. Ikar jumped on his, and we rode to the great courtyard of the keep. There were hundreds of archers in every nook, eyeing the sky. As the evening was falling, cauldrons blazing on every space, to make sure no surprises came to Dansar’s Grave.
“The jotun,” the Queen explained, as Shaduril looked around with curiosity. “We are careful, you see. Can’t be careful enough with a shape changer, eh?” She eyed the two. “But, you are no such things. I see you for what you are. One of us, even if you are the blood of the bitch Mir, and this one is a useful fool. Come. Let us speak inside, though I must also keep an eye on the walls.” She nodded at the central keep.
Shaduril nodded and dismounted. Ikar did as well, and Ikar’s horse and I were led to the stables, where I was given a stall and hay, with a bucket of water. My saddle was removed, and I was rubbed down with a brush by a gentle, freckle-faced stable girl, which was surprisingly relaxing, all things considering. I waited, terrified the enemy would charge the stable, but the enemy Queen, despite her care and suspicious nature, had not asked Shaduril questions about Maskan. Not then, at least. She would, probably, want to know all about Balic’s battle, and that was what I had told Shaduril to speak of.
Somewhere in the east, horns were blowing desperately. Baduhanna was in battle, and hopefully, the flanking legions had reached her.
I had that night to open the gates.
The Queen would have to die, or an Aesir would.
But I had two fools on my side, and a fool can make all the difference.
***
At midnight, I changed and took the form of the stable girl. I sneaked around, until I reached the doorway. There was a nervous bustle on the walls, guards running and speaking in urgent voices. On top of the main keep, men were yelling updates down to men on the courtyard.
Outside of Dansar’s Grave, there would be an army of Dagnar, deploying before the keep. That would make them take note, and no men would sleep that night. They’d have their eyes to the West. The gatehouse was manned by hundred men, all tense. Every single one was heavily armed and alert, and even if by some miracle Dagnar’s men could reach the fortress’s walls, get over the moat, cling to the walls, and try to pry open the gates, they would be murdered by cauldrons of boiling oil set to run down holes on top of the gatehouse. I could see men stoking fires, and at least four such cauldrons, the oil boiling and bubbling.
Shaduril would be on top with Ikar. I craned my neck to observe the tower, cursing the many torches burning and sputtering angrily on most everywhere, and that made me feel naked. Then I thought I saw part of the eastern wall was a thin sliver of shadows running up the central keep, and perhaps, I prayed, no archers would see if I went up there along the shadows. There were not so many archers on the yards or the eastern walls, since many had been needed to guard the western wall. I moved.
Then, I froze.
I saw the Queen of Vittar marching from the walls.
She had been giving orders. Flanked by three burly men and one thin officer, another woman, they were walking briskly for a tower. The Queen was glowing with strange energies, and I guessed she was protected from most attacks by spells and artifacts. She, like the other draugr I had seen, was not careful with her powers. They were evident and deadly, since even her guards kept a respectable amount of space, not venturing too near and watching her closely, so as not to bump into her, should she stop walking.
“I will speak with our guests,” she was saying to the officer. “Keep my floor closed, and watch this Blacktower. Send the Helstrom to me. First, I will send word to the East.”
On the roof, would be the great mirrors used to relaying messages. They were hard to use at night, but she would go there.
I took a chance, after she had passed inside the tower. I smiled at a guard rushing for the walls, fairly sure nobody was paying attention to me. I reached the uneven stone of the main keep, and crept to where the shadows were deepest. I let the strange power of the giants into my limbs, and felt the dizzying, swift change. I fell forward, a ten foot, thin lizard one often saw in the gardens of Dagnar, and the odd world of the reptile conquered my senses.
The smell, the taste of night’s moist air, the cold wall, and the sense of grass’s gentle touch on my scaled skin, shooting from the cracks of the wall made me stop for a moment, to concentrate. Then, licking and touching the wall with my feet, finding spots to cling on to, I scuttled up it in the thin bit of shadow. I went up with terrible speed, my tail and snout swinging, making too much noise. As the guard had been told to be on a lookout for suspicious animals, I expected an arrow from below. No such arrow came. Instead, I scuttled to the top, and nearly ran into a man’s bearded face. I hissed, nearly bit his nose, and circumvented the startled guard. A Helstrom trooper, with rich chain, turned in alarm, as the first man, a fat one, was hopping around, trying to see me. I slinked over a pile of rope, and hustled under a ballista.
“See that?” the first one said, with an excited voice. “Saw that, did you?”
“I saw a tail, that’s all,” the thinner man answered. “Nothing more than a damned tail.”
“Her worthiness told us to capture all animals in the fortress,” the fat one said, huffing as he bent down to find me. “And this one shall cook for our dinner.”
“She told us to kill them, and make sure they are what they seemed they are,” the thinner one said carefully, as he eased his spear off a rack. “Said they might be spies.”
“Spies!” hooted the fat one, as he got to his feet. “Spies indeed! Yes, I’ll make sure it’s no spy. I’ll open it up, and take out the guts. Delicious, stew-worthy spy it is, or perhaps one for a spicy pie?” He laughed like a demented jester. “You don’t go yelling for the rest of the boys. We will deal with this one. The legion is eating all our supplies, and I won’t share.”
“It’s a big one,” the other one muttered agreeably. “Too big for the two of us. Taller than you and I? But, I guess we can gorge ourselves.”
“Fat on eggs, I bet,” he chortled. “Fat on bird’s eggs, and we’ll make sure he’ll make us fat.”
“You are fat already.”
The guards were walking back and forth, trying to spot me under the huge weapon. “Come out, stupid thing,” the thin one, with an oddly chinless face, grumbled. He was trying to go to his knees, balancing himself with a spear, as was the other one on the other side. I slithered on the ballista itself, cursing the hugely long, fat tail.
“Hook, we need a hook,” the fat one grumbled, as he tried to poke at me with his dagger. I was too far. “Bring that spear here. It will do.”
“It might run away,” the thin one complained. “You’re no good with a spear. And watch out for her skin. You can sell the skin to a shoemaker. Barlan makes belts of the things. Pays handsomely.”
The fat one was shaking his head, with clear disapproval, as he grabbed the spear from the thin one. “Sell them where? Dagnar is burning. I’m not sure we are on the right side.”
The thin man spat with fear. His eyes scourged the night, as if expecting a legion of Hammers surging out to punish them. The spear stabbed fast, and I hopped away, screeching angrily, and shot under another ballista.
The thin one cursed. “Bugger. It’s a fast, for a fat one. Get after it! And stop yapping about sides while the Southerners are present, eh? The Hammers marched through, and they are here to stay. They are the High King’s armies, after all, and didn’t Hilan Helstrom tell everyone we should obey the High King, rather than an alien creature and a jotun? Of course we should. They’ll make things right, eventually. “
“I’m sure they kill lord Ban, Hilan and her cronies,” the other one said softly. “That is not right.”
“You’ll see it will be well. Come, let’s bag this thing.”
The fat guard took a halfhearted step forward. �
��Those people out the gate are our damned relatives. They killed our people there, as they do in the East and now—”
“Let the nobles die,” the thin man huffed. “And perhaps the folk didn’t die in Dagnar? Perhaps they might be restored? They say Balic can bring back the dead. We are committed, anyway. Come and— “
A trapdoor opened up. The two guards snapped to immediate attention.
The Queen came up, walked forward briskly, her horned mask on. She beckoned the thin man close, handing him a note. “Send it to the rest of the army in the East. Just a warning. Dagnar has burned down, and the fleets are going to land in Nallist, in Alantia. They know to look out.”
“We need the Lifegiver for the detailed report, my lady,” the thin man said.
“Just send a warning this night,” she explained. “Rest in the morning.”
The man looked at the note, and without a word, began adjusting the mirror, while the fat one began to heap dry wood on a huge pan, casting covetous looks my way.
They’d warn the enemy army, then in the morning, send a new message.
There would be no morning for them.
The Queen was walking back and forth, eyeing the steadily burning specter of Dagnar, and frowning at the army of its folk beyond her walls. She had heard Shaduril’s lies, but it was clear something was gnawing on her. The enemy she saw posed no true challenge while she held the keep, and she should have nothing to worry about. However, she did—more than she knew.
The man was adjusting the mirrors, working his magic. The other guard was silent and erect.
Ikar appeared out of the trapdoor.
He fidgeted on the edge, not certain he was allowed to enter further. “You wanted to speak with me, my lady?”
He was dressed well in a silken jacket and tunic, and long legion boots. He bowed to the Queen. She didn’t seem to take note, until she suddenly spoke. “Yes. They are bringing Shaduril to my rooms.”
“I came with her,” he said. “She waits below.”
Lisar nodded. “But I wanted to see you alone first. I need to know what happened in Dagnar,” she spat. “Exactly what happened. It has occurred to me the young Shaduril did most of the talking, so now you will show me how observant and eloquent you are. Worry not. I’m not in a stormy mood. You will answer my questions, and then you go down to your rooms as Shaduril and I chat. You say this Maskan was with his powers? Fighting?”
“Maskan Danegell,” Ikar said, with rage. “He punched my face so hard I can only drink soup. He tortured me while I was unconscious.” He touched his bruised face. He went on with misery. “He killed Mother, and rallied the city to fight Balic. They say he was cut from his power, and then regained it. I don’t know. He was fighting for Dagnar, powers or not.”
At this stage, Ikar seemed again confused. He had been led to believe they were opposing Balic, but now, for his own survival, he was going to contradict his own beliefs. In order to thrive, he should believe what he was saying. But, despite the fact he was an uncertain, greedy bastard, he wasn’t actually happy for Balic’s invasion, and the note registered with the Queen.
“I see,” she said, with a cold, haughty voice. “Your mother didn’t let you in on the true matters of the state. She did the right thing. Such matters confuse the young. Tell me more.”
“I didn’t see much of it, truth be told,” Ikar answered, with a nervous bow, “until they pulled us out of the dungeon, and took us through the Old City. I was blindfolded. Didn’t see anything, though I heard the city burning. They fled, and lugged me with them. As for the battle, I heard them screaming and dying all that day. After they stole the city from Mother, their fates were sealed. Balic’s victorious, but there must be some losses. And he might be stuck in the Tower, Lady … Queen.”
“A lot of losses,” the Queen said. “Call me Queen Lisar Vittar.” She smiled coldly at Ikar. “And I’ll call you pet. Come, pet, tell me everything about your rescue. Especially Shaduril’s part of it.”
“Her part?” Ikar asked, confused. “She got me out. That’s her part.”
“And why? You are a toad-like thing. Why would she risk her freedom for you? It would be like fat merchant paying the taxes for some poor beggar. Makes no sense. The whole Blacktower clan vexes me,” Lisar said tiredly. “Very troublesome lot, and trouble always follows them, eh? Like a dog sniffing at shit, they keep finding their way into Balic’s way, when they should be helping him. Orders were clear, and Mir and her husband, Balan, failed, Lith and Shaduril took the chance to settle their scores, and here we are. Why did Mir spare her, even? Yes, to fool Maskan into Aten-Sur’s lap, but after? Was she not a foe to her mother, and ally to Maskan Danegell?”
I froze. Shaduril had already been under her mother’s spell the day we had the feast in the Harbor? Not after? I felt sorry for her. I remembered she had been very nervous, very upset.
“This Mir might have believed she had a use still, one day.” Ikar said. “And Maskan certainly didn’t release her. He seems to have taken his capture by Aten-Sur badly. He made a prisoner of her.”
“Made a prisoner of a draugr, eh?” Lisar muttered. “But, now, she is here. She escaped.” Lisar looked deep into Ikar’s eyes. “Or did she?”
Ikar nodded slowly, thinking hard. “She said she escaped. I saw two bodies, or legs rather, in her tent. She said she could have tried to escape earlier, but this was the best time. The jotun and everyone were exhausted after escaping, and she was afraid of him.”
“Everyone fears the Beast,” Vittar said softly. “He’s been an unexpected foe. He and that Aesir,” she spoke, thinking hard, her eyes never leaving the destroyed Dagnar. “That bastard jotun burned my city. Balic will have to rebuild it for me.” She turned back to Ikar. “Why did Maskan spare her? And how would one make a prisoner of a draugr?”
“Why?” he asked. “He had a crush on her, before she was found to be draugr … like you. Everyone knows it. It’s a scandal.”
The Queen was chuckling cruelly and shook her head, until she saw the glowing city, obsessed by the sight, and went quiet.
Draugr and their obsessions. And I hoped she, like all draugr, was obsessed with other things, too.
“It’s mostly gone,” she muttered, an intense, deadly expression in her gray eyes.
“It’s still the best port in Red Midgard,” Ikar said carefully.
I spied the open trapdoor. The Queen was muttering to herself, the guards were working to build flames and still adjusting the mirror, and Ikar was hunched meekly to the side, probably afraid for his fool life.
I changed shape into a huge rat, and slunk from shadow to shadow, keeping a close eye on the two guards, but they noticed nothing. I slithered past ammunition boxes, racks of flags, and sniffled at the room below. I poked my whiskers though a hole in the planks, and found a royal study below. It was furnished lavishly, with the best cut wooden furniture, red paneling of rich wood, and silver embroidered tapestries of wondrous beasts.
I slunk down the stairway, unseen.
Below, there was the desk of a commander of Dansar’s Grave, though where that man was now, it was unclear. Helstrom troops had probably disposed of him, or taken him with them on their way East. The table was heaped high with vellum parchments, ink bottles, and thick books.
Shaduril stood there, nervous to the bone. “Is she coming down? What does he want with Ikar?”
“She is suspicious of you,” I said simply. “Probably wants to kill you. Looking for reasons to do it. We will surprise her together.”
“Yes,” she said nervously. “As agreed. Do not touch her. She has protective spell that is terribly strong. It burns flesh and bone. But if we cast our spells at her together, it should overpower her. Will you hide in the shadows?”
I shook my head. “She will send Ikar away. I’ll go down the stairs, and come back as the bastard. She will be distracted.”
“Yes, brilliant,” Shaduril said. “Make sure you snap his neck silently. We can do this. Then, afte
r Baduhanna, eh? Love.”
“Yes, love,” I answered.
I walked to the doorway leading below, heard nothing, and went below to a dark corridor, where I found the deepest shadow possible.
There were voices above.
“Keep trying!” the Queen commanded, because apparently there had been no answer from the posts the passing enemy had left behind in the Grimwing Pass. I heard her cursing. Her steps stopped in the room, but Ikar’s followed, and echoed through the room. He entered the shadows of the spiraling stairway, cursed the darkness, and made his clumsy way down them.
He approached me, and passed me, and I, knowing he would be trouble later in the fortress, should I survive, grabbed him roughly.
His mouth was muffled under my hand, his legs kicked air, and I twisted his neck mercifully fast. The man who had wanted to torture Quiss was gone, his piss dripping down the stairs.
I took his face and body, and looked like him, broken teeth and all. I sneaked up and peeked in. And tense conversation was taking place.
“What question is that, my lady?” Shaduril asked.
Lisar chuckled. “Many questions, now that I think of it. Alas, that the rabble outside has distracted me, but I think nothing has gone too badly amiss.” She glowed with subtle energies, as she walked to stand next to her desk. “The question? Why would you come to me, your mother’s worst enemy, when it comes to the matter of Dagnar?” she said thinly. “And how is it that you, a draugr were captured when fighting for your damned mother? Did you just give up? A magical creature like you?”
“I had no wish to fall,” Shaduril said. “No reason at all. I hated mother as much as you did. And that is why I am here.”
Lisar shook her head. “Seeking allies? What if you are after Dagnar as well? Eh? What, if I take you under my wing and Balic approves, will happen to me if you are only biding your time to take the Rose Throne from me?”
The Queen of the Draugr: Stories of the Nine Worlds (Thief of Midgard - a dark fantasy action adventure Book 2) Page 36
