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

by Alaric Longward

  “I’ve made my share of mistakes,” I told her humbly. “They have Morag; they have the Black Grip. Balic does. They have all the keys to get inside that tomb where this Queen of the Draugr waits, and all I have done is to stab at the enemy in the leg. Baduhanna, no matter her straightforward, ham-fisted way of waging war, is whom we need. And since the enemy has Morag, partly due to her stupidity in trusting Hilan and letting Mir sneak back to the city, she will be less proud, I hope.”

  “Likely she will only blame you for not letting her have the Black Grip,” Quiss murmured, and I knew she was right. Baduhanna had likely feared Morag’s body would not be safe, no matter what she did. She might have feared even I might fall to the draugr, but the Black Grip was the key to all, and I had not given it over to her. It made me queasy with remorse.

  “I should just hide in the mountains,” I whispered.

  “Or eat what we have all boiled and roasted, and see how we won’t choke on it,” she answered merrily. “Baduhanna is to blame, as well. She didn’t explain the issue to you, did she? Had she done so, you might have seen why you should have left the thing with her.” She clapped my foot while she rode closer. “Stop brooding. It makes you look like a child.”

  “I know,” I told her, frowning on. “But, an ugly child.”

  She laughed. “You will have lots of scars, but I don’t mind. I like my men rough looking.”

  “Thank you.”

  She went quiet, as she looked over the land, and nodded towards the East. “They are closer.”

  “I know,” I said, again.

  Far in the front, there were horns blowing, distant drums rolling, and terrible, hoarse screams of the battle, a cacophony of chaotic carnage. Baduhanna was somewhere ahead with the nobles, engaged with the enemy legions of the East, pouring out of the betrayed Hillhold, and trapped with the noble armies of the West.

  Would Baduhanna’s magic see them through the night? What had happened when one and half Hammer Legions, with much of Balic’s draugr guard, had attacked their back? Was she even alive?

  I eyed the troops around me. Sturdy, bitter, and angry men and women, most armed with Hammer Legion weapons, were there to fight. The enemy had no truly superior numbers flanking the goddess, thanks to Dagnar’s inferno. But, few of them had any real training in combat. There were no walls to even the odds. They all looked at me, and saluted, as my eyes passed them by.

  All they had was me. No matter how I had failed in the past, they had me.

  And I was tired, hurt, and afraid. Quiss was right. I had to eat the soup I had boiled.

  Quiss spoke to distract me, it was clear. “How will your wife react to me? Since you found your heart in Dagnar, and apparently gave it to me, she might want to carve out mine?”

  I grinned. “She’ll cook your guts while you watch.”

  She slammed her armored fist on my shoulder, and I winced with pain. “I’m sorry!” she said.

  “I hope I’ll live.” I wasn’t sure.

  She looked relieved. “How will she—”

  I shrugged. “Why should she react? She will probably be happy to share.”

  “I don’t want to share,” she said icily.

  I chuckled. “She doesn’t flinch easily, has seen ages pass, and there is a war to fight, so I doubt she will mind losing her king. Just don’t try to stop her from winning the war.”

  She looked gloomy as someone who had spent the night vomiting. “She’s a female. She’ll be upset.”

  “Men are as upset as women in the matters of the heart,” I said, with no experience whatsoever. “And I don’t know if this is something we should be worrying about right now. Ask him.” I nodded at Thrum. “He looks experienced in matters of love. He and his ax have shared a long life.”

  Quiss giggled, but Thrum spat in disgust. “My ax is a cold bedfellow, but I’ve been married four times, and know a thing or two. And that’s a thing or two more than you, Maskan. I tell you, boy, while a mortal can slay in rage over the lost love, do not think the Aesir to be cold and unhurt by rejection.” He looked up at Quiss. “You girls share the stupid King here, but look out, Quiss. Jotuns occasionally have many spouses, like we do, but goddesses can be fickle, and they don’t share.”

  Quiss grinned. “I’ll be careful. That would be something, though, sharing. You, the goddess, and I— ”

  I blushed, and gave her a small push. The men around us, discreetly listening in, nervous to the bone, chuckled.

  She sighed, and tried to touch my side. I shook my head, and she looked shocked. “Looks terrible.”

  I nodded, as I inspected my wound site. “It probably does. But, perhaps we will—”

  Thrum shook his head. He pointed a hand to the West. “No, you fool. She meant that.” A dozen horses rode past us, some with Dagnar noble colors. All were bloody. Two boys rode right after them, and stopped before us. One, a breathless lad, was gesturing wildly for the East. “Hour away, my lord! One hour. A terrible battle. They have her trapped!”

  I nodded, and took a deep breath. “Thrum. Tell the boys to run. We have not a moment to spare.” I spat a clot of blood, and the army ran.

  ***

  I hung onto my bear cape, shivering, as we stared down at the horrifying sight below. My horse was making its way lazily through a small copse of wood on a small hill. Four Hammer legionnaires lay slain in the brushes. They had been guarding, but lazily, unable to turn their eyes off the horrible battle. There had been others. A veritable train of wounded, supply officers with their charges, and scouts had been caught all along the last miles, and none had escaped. Just below the hill, rows of wounded and Hammer Legion supplies and hospitals had been set up, and none of those looked our way either. The orderlies, healers, officers, and noncombatants watched how seven thousand men were pushing against a shield wall of Dagnar’s noble families, who had taken and held a low, treeless hill in the middle of a small, yellow-stoned valley. The whole place looked depressing cesspit with scarce grass and plenty of frosty mud.

  Beyond them, the armies, which had invaded Alantia, were in columns pushing up the hill, coiling around it. Even beyond them, the roads to the west were littered with corpses. There were so many corpses, broken weapons, and flags. It was easy to see the fight had already been bitter, before the enemy had surged to Baduhanna’s back.

  “Eight thousand?” I asked Thrum. “Nobles?”

  “Seven thousand are alive,” he answered, “most all unhorsed. The enemy has nearly twice that.”

  Indeed, the flags of the remaining noble houses were in the midst of the low hill, and the colorful shields were milling in circle, surrounded by a sea of shield walls of the Hammer Legions. Aten’s Fish and Ship, Palan’s Bull, the enemy of the East were doggedly pushing into those shields, and flashes of magic spoke of the Balic's draugr, the highest royals commanding their respective provincial armies, were in battle. Every now and then, the noble shields broke, and yet, some hero of Dagnar blocked the enemy from surging through. Sometimes, such a hero fell, and only some of the scarce reserves rushing in could pluck the holes.

  Vittar’s remaining troops, with the other legion’s colors, Six Spears in a ring, were trying to push through the nobles desperately. What I saw, though, made my belly twist with fear.

  Few hundred, golden-armored draugr were standing just behind the attacking lines, all looking up at a glowing figure, fighting back the enemy.

  Baduhanna.

  Keeping the surprise attackers at bay, her honey-colored, brilliant hair a halo of anger, she smote down foes. Her sword and magic smote down companies of enemies, her magic deflecting arrows and spear, a round, magical shield swift on her arm.

  “Can she survive those?” I asked, and pointed below, where the legions were assembling ballistae.

  “No,” Thrum said uncertainly. “Eventually, even the Aesir will grow weary. And the draugr are not even in the battle. I think they will distract her, then punch through to the side, and attack her with magic from all
directions. That is what Balic planned, I bet. Simple and brutal. This is still possible, even with so few Hammer troops. We have little time to spare.”

  I weakly turned to look down the hillside.

  Just behind us, the army stood in silent, scared ranks, and I had no idea how to prepare the farmers, the veterans of Dagnar, or, I thought, even the dverger to the horror below. There were no walls to be had. Only a small surprise. “Tell them to prepare. And try to look martial. And tell them,” I said, “to do their best. I will lead the new men down.”

  “They will do more than their best,” Thrum said softly. “Don’t worry, boy. Battles are won and lost. Things right themselves one way or another.” He looked uncertain, as he turned, and I heard him mutter one more sentence as he ran. “Unless the dead win.”

  I faced the battle once more. “Quiss? What shall we do?”

  “You are asking me?” she whispered, her hair whipping in a wind. “I have no damned clue. Go down and kill them?”

  The eastern legions were pushing their spears against the nobles doggedly, a heaving mass of Hammer legionnaires, and the nobles were countering back up the hill. The cracking of wooden spear shafts, screams of terrible injuries, and the horror of hundreds of wounded could be heard ringing across the mountains. A king and a queen of the enemy were standing amidst their staff on the eastern end of the valley.

  Quiss murmured, “Aten. Those are my men, in truth. Some bastard draugr is commanding them.”

  “We could use them, but not right now,” I told her. “The draugr, the ballistae. Where is the remaining Queen of the intact legion below?”

  “Before the draugr,” she said, indicating a pale blue banner of Miklas, with Six Spears radiating. “That’s her.”

  “So,” I said, as I saw a company of spearmen pushing to nobles guarding the Aesir, falling dead in their armors, as she let go with horrible fire storm in their midst. “I’ll lead our small surprise for the draugr,” I told her. “Ragga and you will take our people from Dagnar to the right, see, where they are the thinnest.” Indeed, on the south end of the hill, near Baduhanna, the lines were thin, and that was where Vittar’s remains were fighting. “Smash them, and advance into the Six Spears, while we are at their backs, trying to destroy the draugr. Have some hundreds of archers make life miserable for the enemy to the left of the draugr, but all swords to the right, and then, help us with the draugr.”

  “We shall kill the ballistae as we go,” she said sadly. She leaned over, and kissed me in the lips, and stroked my face. I almost pleaded she would stay away from the battle. She anticipated this, and led her Atenites to help Thrum with the preparations.

  I waited, and watched Baduhanna kill.

  Glowing with mighty powers she was holding a radiant sword of fire, a great thing of magic. I had once felt that blade in my skin. She stood in the midst of the shield wall, like any warrior, and held them fighting, singing as they died. When the long spears of the Hammers claimed lives around her, she rallied the ones who remained, and shields banged together; swords and axes flashed. Again and again, the enemy crashed to her and her defenders. Dagnar’s nobles sortied bravely, lords of the houses behind her, and as I watched, one such high lord was thrown off his horse, writing in pain as a javelin jutted from his side. Who it was, I couldn’t see. Perhaps one of the Bollions.

  Despite the loss, the shields of Dagnar came forward every time, draining men from the sides, clashing tighter, as they surged to guard Baduhanna. One might hate the nobles for their high airs, but there, below, the nobles and their vassals were showing why they had been lifted to nobility and the service of the nobles in the first place. Bravery, honor—it was all they had. Even a contingent of Helstrom vassals was fighting, having thrown away Hilan’s orders for their redemption.

  I chuckled.

  I had forgotten to hang the Helstrom guards in Dansar’s Grave.

  The draugr were moving.

  Not quickly, not charging, but steadily advancing on the division ripping into the nobles, bunching to left, though many were going straight for the goddess. Baduhanna’s sword flashed, as she cut through a captain of the Legions, tearing the head off the huge man and half his horse. A storm of bitter ice and blue fire enveloped the enemy formation, tearing bits of flesh off the enemy. She was standing in a hail of arrows and javelins, but still she stood, and let loose with another massive spell of destruction.

  Two fiery beings rose from the midst of the enemy legions. They rose up to the height of fifteen feet, and one, a scowling thing of flames, stepped down on an enemy general. His standard burned with him, as well a guard of the finest lords of the Six Spears. The other creature grasped two golden-armored draugr, who fell to dust.

  Baduhanna screamed, as a hail of arrows rattled against her, then two ballistae finally fired, and one threw her to her back. The elemental spirits disappeared.

  Enemy surged forward, hacking down at the nobles, killing many. Others stood over her, defending her with their lives. A young, blond boy hacked there, and stabbed four ferocious Hammer legionnaires down, and fell with an arrow in his belly. Baduhanna climbed to her feet, pulling a huge spear off her shoulder, trembling, and no doubt released healing spells, the one magic only the Aesir and the Vanir possessed. There were limits to them, as well. I cursed and waved at Thrum, who bellowed orders, so did Ragga.

  I saw the draugr were moving fast now, to the left of Baduhanna, while many remained to challenge her. The Queen in the front of the surging mass of the draugr guard was gesturing at a space twenty feet from the goddess, where an old noble, with a hundred blue shields, fought valiantly.

  He’d die in an eye blink.

  Then, our force arrived, filling the hill’s top, looking down. I turned my horse, spat blood, and knew they could not be allowed to think about the madness they were about to plunge into.

  “The False Vittar, follow me!” I screamed. “The rest, follow Princess Quiss, the officers! Take the war to their backs. You cannot fail! Kill them! For Dagnar! And Red Midgard!”

  “For Dagnar!” they screamed, horrified, elated, crazy.

  The troops poured down the hill.

  Behind me, fluttered the ragged flags of Vittar we had stolen from Dansar’s Grave, and the troops wore its armor and weapons, all that had been looted. On closer inspection, they looked like fakes, an undisciplined mass of Northerners, bearded, unfamiliar to military, drill, and discipline, stumbling and holding the weapons clumsily. Most of the chain mail was bloodied and torn, but the enemy, who turned to observe the mass of Legion coming down, cheered. Some, the keener ones, were walking forward uncertainly, squinting up the hill. An officer was whipping his horse up it, screaming questions.

  We surged for the man. I was on my horse, shaking with fever and weakness, and the man’s eyes were darting from the sides to me, then to the mass of dverger. It was then he fell from the horse, arrows jutting from his armor.

  The wounded, now right in front of us, were struggling to get up, to grab a weapon, to run, but we enveloped them, and what happened to most of them, I ignored. We trampled over them, saw the terrified eyes of the ballista operating legionnaires, who soon ran like rabbits.

  I kept my eye on the massing legions in front of us.

  Hundreds of hunters stopped on the hillside.

  Most began to fire all over the enemy formation, ignoring my orders, but nonetheless, the powerful hunting bows saw us to battle. Hundreds of arrows poured into the enemy ranks. Some golden-armored draugr, just before us, roared in surprise, few fell with an arrow in their skull, but most volleys scythed down the Hammer legionnaires across the battle.

  I lifted my sword, stayed with the troops, and fixed my eye on a hulking draugr, who was yelling as the enemy’s ranks were turning. As the ground shook, the dverger stomped down behind us, the men surged, with a savage anger and horror, to the turning enemy troops, who were utterly confused by the banners they saw, and the orders of their captains. Men coughed their lives away on spe
ars, and then, the pressing metal and flesh was all we saw, as we met the enemy.

  I hacked down at the hulking draugr.

  The blade cut it in half, but the horse fell into a spear. I rolled into the enemy formation, seeing red with pain. I was being kicked, stepped on, then someone tried to stab me dead with a sharp, butt-end of a spear, and that was when Dagnar’s legions crashed into my assailant. Someone was pulling me up, another was propelling me forward, and I was in the second rank, as we ploughed into the foe. The Queen of the Six Spears turned to look back at us in a shock. She saw the falling lines of legionnaires and draugr, her troops getting pushed, beaten, stabbed, and ripped apart into heaps of trampled corpses and horses. A tall draugr was pushing her on, the mass of them moving to the side still, and she was nodding. We were jostling and pulling in a mass of flesh and steel, howling, and cursing. My sword went up, and down, and men fell in heaps, until our momentum was spent.

  The enemy troops had stopped us, gritting their teeth, dying, and slaying. The enemy was hacking down with ferocity, and slaying over their shields, their second ranks as deadly with spears. While somewhere, Quiss and Ragga were probably doing better, we took steps back. The dverger were surging to the sides of our rapidly shrinking contingent, and I despaired, as I saw the draugr were now to the side, and rushing up at the nobles, with blue shields.

  I slashed left, I slashed right, and knew I’d have to use magic to get us through the foe.

  I felt the air rippling.

  Dozens of the draugr the main contingent of the Guard had left behind had turned towards us, whilst the rest advanced, and lines of dark fire scorched their cleansing way through our embattled troops. Flash of heat, screams, and chaos followed. Then, in a moment, the draugr were loping though the steaming, scorched flesh paths they had created, braiding together more spells, as confused mass of theirs and ours were trying to recover.

  I gathered my power.