“Fine,” said the were-beasts, but grudgingly.
Margret frowned. “Now, let us scale this wall, and find the viper’s nest,” she said.
CHAPTER 26
A Plan is Hatched
Grum leaned back in his chair and patted his full tummy. “Now that is a meal to remember,” he said.
Farling looked over at everyone seated at the feast: Cormac and Frederick were in deep discussion with the dwarf-king’s advisor, the Aarlund brothers were having some sort of eating and drinking competition that looked like none of them were to win—or all might win.
Farling noticed Jakobus walking towards him. Jakobus seemed to be handling the dwarf ale the best as he was used to it, unlike the Aarlund brothers, whose faces were bright red, voices loud.
“My thanks, wizard,” said Jakobus to Arastead.
“Your Highness,” said Arastead with a slight bow of his head. “I believe I liked it better when you simply referred to me as blacksmith.”
“With that ring, you are no longer simply a blacksmith,” said Jakobus as he sat down in a chair so he was close enough that Farling easily smelled dwarf-ale on the king’s breath.
“Now,” continued Jakobus, “a blacksmith is much like a wizard. Both take something raw and bend it to their will. Now that you pull magic from both chaos and order, it is like when you fold different metals and hammer them together to make something stronger. As a blacksmith, you use heat to soften the metal, you use air to keep the coals hot, you use water to chill metal, and you use earth to insulate.”
Grum winked. “Arastead, I name you forge wizard,” he said Grum.
Jakobus waved his tankard at Grum. “Being a blacksmith requires a great deal of creativity, Grum,” he said. Grum put on his best chagrined look. “Same with being a wizard. I must admit, I did put Arastead on the spot there in front of the goblin-king. I did not know what you were going to do. I was—and am—impressed by what you did. Still, though, fresh water for the goblins? I think I would have preferred something that would have kept them scared for a few hundred years. But a well, it demonstrates good faith, which was one of the goals of that surprise meeting.”
Farling interjected: “Was the other goal to surprise the goblins and see if they amass weapons?”
“Perceptive,” said Jakobus. “Although I fear my ruse of being drunk did not fool Grillsnak. Still, a useful appearance for more than one reason: Arastead proved his abilities at using his new ring, something he will need to use time and time again as days pass.”
“Your Highness,” started Grum, “I would request a favor.”
“Yes, blacksmith.”
“As you know, my war hammer and gloves of strength were stolen by Loki, your least favorite of the Norse gods.”
“Go on.”
“Well, Your Highness, Farling also had his enchanted sword and shield stolen, and I was wondering if you had any ideas on how to get them returned?”
Jakobus was silent for a minute or so as he stroked his beard in thought. Then: “So, Loki will give them to Thrymr to impress him. And so you must get your enchanted weapons back from the frost giants.”
Farling chuckled. “You make it sound easy, King Jakobus,” he said.
Jakobus nodded. “To know your enemies is to know their weaknesses and strengths,” he said. “The frost giants love their games, love to compete. They think themselves best at all games: running, wrestling polar bears, tossing rocks, whatever those frost giants do to amuse themselves.”
Grum looked confused. “Your Highness, how will frost giant games help me recover my war hammer?” he asked.
Jakobus touched the side of his nose with a finger. “Because you will visit Jotunheim and you will ask, no demand, to compete against Thrymr’s sons in a friendly competition,” he said.
Grum looked helplessly at his friends who all shrugged. “King Jakobus, of course I appreciate your advice,” he started, “but how in Odin’s name are we to beat Thrymr’s sons at games?”
“Do not worry, blacksmith,” said Jakobus with a sly smile, “we dwarves will help.”
CHAPTER 27
Fight in the Assassins Guild
Without a sound, Margret landed lightly on her feet within the grounds of the School. Beside her, Liulfr, Asbjorn, and Kees landed just as silently.
Margret assessed the grounds. The stables were off to one side, while gardens and training grounds were on the other. She glanced at the were-beasts and indicated which way they were to go. The were-beasts nodded in agreement.
Margret took the lead and ran towards the closest empty building. They reached the building’s wall, and waited, steadying their breathing, listening for alarms, smelling the air for any strange scents.
Using her circlet, Margret focused beyond the walls, looking inside to see if anyone was there, just on the off chance someone was wandering around. Nodding her head, she pointed at the window.
Asbjorn stood and with one of his razor-sharp daggers slide the blade between the two windows, lifted the latch, opened the windows, which he then pushed inwards gently.
Margret and the were-beasts climbed one-by-one through the open window. Asbjorn closed the window behind, making sure the windows did not creak. He closed the latch, locking the windows again just like they were before.
In a voice barely above a whisper Margret said: “Find the stairs that go down. If they are here, they must be hiding somewhere deep, somewhere hidden.”
The were-beasts nodded again, and as they began walking through the hall, swirled about their feet. Quickly they found the stairs and descended, noting the amount of dust on each step.
Liulfr hissed: “This cannot be the right building, princess. No one has walked these stairs in years.”
Margret shook her head. “We must make sure,” she replied. “If they are in the basement, then they must have a different exit.”
At the bottom of the stairs, there was no light as there were no torches, and they dared not light one. But all the were-beasts had impressive night vision and Margret used her enchanted circlet to find her way.
Liulfr asked Margret: “Do you see anything magical?”
“Nothing yet,” she answered. “I see no doors hidden by magic, no portals. I do not think this is the building. Wait!”
Everyone froze, rooted to the stop, senses intensified.
Kees whispered: “I see nothing, and I have the best vision in the dark.”
Margret spoke in hushed tones: “It was not something I saw, but something I heard. It was like a taunt string being pulled, like a tall piece of wheat bending ever so slightly in the wind. There is a trip wire just ahead of us. If we touch it, a trap triggers.”
“This is the building,” hissed Liulfr. “Let us leave and bring reinforcements. My wolf side screams to leave.”
“Agreed,” said Margret. “Let us return to Beornheard. On the morrow, we return with a small army.”
“Movement,” purred Kees menacingly, sliding his hands across his quarterstaff. “Others are here.”
“Then we do not need the darkness any longer,” whispered Margret as she pulled a gourd from her pocket. She hurled it at the nearest wall and cried: “Cover your eyes!”
When the gourd hit the wall, it burst apart with a magic that lit the room so brightly it blinded all who did not cover their eyes.
Margret yelled: “Up the stairs, now!” Looking at the hall, she saw all the assassins thrown into stark relief by the bright light.
The were-beasts and Margret flew up the stairs, taking three steps at a time. Liulfr, who was in the lead, came to a sudden stop at one of the stair landings.
Everyone slammed into his back.
“Why did you—” but before Margret could finish, she saw why.
On the ground before them was Beornheard, trussed with ropes, unable to move.
Above and below them on the stairs now stood people dressed in black, with just a slit across the fabric in front of their eyes. All had short swords and daggers drawn.
<
br /> Margret hissed: “Free him.”
With his daggers, Asbjorn made short work of Beornheard’s ropes, and in a few quick moments, Beornheard was standing, rubbing his wrists.
“I did not see them coming,” Beornheard rumbled. “Not even the animals watching across the street alerted me to their presence.”
Margret whispered: “Our current situation leaves us at a disadvantage.”
With her head, she imperceptibly nodded down the stairs, indicating which direction they should charge.
Asbjorn threw several daggers at the assassins at the bottom of the stairs. Liulfr hurled himself down the stairs, barely touching the steps. With his longsword, he cut a wide arc, forcing the assassins out of the way. Kees, same as Liulfr, swung his quarterstaff in a wide swath, pushing the assassins further out of the way. Close behind were Asbjorn and Beornheard clashing with the assassins as they charged through, while Margret was rearguard. She blocked every blade, protecting herself and the others. As Asbjorn ran down the hall, he jumped and turned, hurling more throwing-knifes over Margret’s head at the assassins, slowing them just enough to help her turn and run.
At the far end of the hall was a double door that Beornheard at full speed threw his entire weight against. It splintered and crashed inwards.
Margret pulled a different gourd from her belt and threw it behind her down the hall. This gourd exploded into a hot ball of flame stopping the assassins in their tracks.
After just a few steps of entering the next room, Beornheard threw his arms wide, stopping everyone behind him.
“The real trap,” he grumbled.
Candles and torches flared. They saw a long table upon which lay an impressive spread of food and drink. Six chairs were arranged around the table, one at each end, two on each side. Margret noticed it was just enough empty chairs for her and the four were-beasts.
An elderly man at the far end of the table stood. Then: “Welcome,” he said with a flourish of his hands. “Please, be—”
“Beornheard!” yelled Margret.
Without hesitation, the were-bear grabbed the table lifting it off the ground with little effort as he spun on one heel and hurled it behind him, over the heads of Margret and the other were-beasts.
Food and the drink splashed the floor and walls as the table flew. Margret sprinted underneath it and as the table smashed against the splintered doorframe, the assassins at the door who narrowly avoided the table, suddenly found themselves fighting for their lives as Margret slashed and cut at them.
The other were-beasts were close behind, as they beat the assassins away from the door, and jumped over the table that partially blocked the entrance. Margret leapt over the table. But unseen to her, one of the assassins hurled a short rope with a stone at both ends. The stones wrapped the rope around her ankles, causing her to fall to the ground.
“Princess!” barked Liulfr.
“Run!” she yelled, as she took knife to rope.
Beornheard roared: “We cannot leave her!”
Liulfr grabbed Beornheard’s arm. “We will come back for her!” he thundered. “Now, move!”
The were-beasts did not need to be told twice as they sprinted down the empty hall, up the stairs, smashing through a window, across the empty field, and up and over the wall.
CHAPTER 28
An Unexpected Dinner
Several assassins stood over Margret.
One of the assassins said in their odd monotone: “This one asks you to cease fighting.”
“And this one asks for your circlet,” said another in a voice indistinguishable from the first.
Margret, realizing the futility of the situation, handed her weapons over to the assassins, hilts first. An assassin cut the rope about her ankles and helped her stand. She took a deep breath, removed the circlet, and handed it over. She breathed deeply, acclimatizing herself to being without her circlet feeling everything turn dull and plain.
The assassins parted allowing her to walk back into the room. The table had been returned in its place and assassins worked hard at cleaning up the mess Beornheard had caused.
The old assassin who took his place again at the head of the table said: “A shame our cooks will need to recreate their masterpiece. But at least now they will not need to make as much food. Please, Princess Margret, please sit.”
Assassins finished cleaning the table and put a chair down for Margret. She sat as if she was at a royalty event. Then: “I was not expecting such a fine reception. And where are my manners, I am afraid I did not bring a gift.”
“Your presence alone is gift enough,” said the old assassin.
Assassins placed food and drink on the table. A glass of wine was poured. Margret lifted the glass and held it in front of her face as she swirled the wine gently, watching how it streaked the glass.
She sniffed the wine. “A fine Salgarian red,” she said. She sniffed again. “Not a very young wine, but several years old. One of their best years.”
“Impressive,” said the old assassin. “Not only are you one of the finest fighters I have ever witnessed, you have an astonishing palate.”
“Everyone underestimates the people of Aarlund, thinking us barbaric and uncultured. Or, they think of me as too privileged, unable to take care of myself, always needing help from others. And if I still wore my circlet, I would tell you the region the wine was from, what color the soil, how much sun and rain the wine grapes received, and the name of the wine grower.”
The old assassin clapped his hands. “Delightful, princess, truly charming. Why I did not think you would be this charming, I cannot say.”
“Underestimated, once again.”
“True, true. Fair warning, we will not underestimate you. I thought we would capture you and your friends. We did underestimate you and your friends in that matter, but not to worry, we will catch up with those so-called were-beasts soon enough. Now, please, eat, you must keep up your strength. And, I would dearly love to hear what you think of the meal. It is a new recipe, and one on which I am eager to hear your thoughts.”
Despite of the situation, Margret found herself amused. The assassins helped with the meal and were perfect in their manners and etiquette. It just felt a little odd to have an entire staff wearing dark clothing and being unable to see their faces except for their eyes.
An assassin gently placed a napkin on Margret’s lap. She picked up a knife and fork, and delicately cut at the meat. She took a bite, and her eyes widened in surprise.
“Delicious. My mother, however, when she made this meal, she would add little things, but she would not tell anyone. That way, when someone tried to replicate her meals, there was always something missing: An herb, a certain spice, something cooked still very well, but not as good as my mother’s cooking.”
“A woman after my own heart. I admire someone with secrets, even something so small as that. And with a touch of vanity too, admirable.”
“You have been spying on me since I was a child? You spied on my mother?”
“We have been spying on everyone since they were little children,” was his reply, waving his hands as if to indicate it was no large matter. “Well, everyone we thought important. We are not a large guild, but we have our reach.”
“You knew my mother?”
“Not me personally, but yes, I have records and I heard stories. A strong woman your mother, a proud Aarlunder, and a very decent cook as it turns out when she felt like making a meal. But the voices in her head one day became too much. You know the kind: visions of what is to come, other people’s voices in your head, you hear their thoughts as if they were talking to you, but their lips do not move. You see things about to happen but are helpless to stop them. And people do not believe you, think you mad, think you crazy. Which is why your father introduced you to Nas, your druid, your mentor. He helped you control the voices in your head, helped stop you from being tormented by visions, helped you to tell the difference between reality and dreams. You sometimes wanted
to stay in your dreamland, do you remember.”
“Thank you for the meal,” said Margret curtly. “But I believe I have overstayed my welcome. I realize the hour is late, but I have a full day ahead tomorrow, and I really must go.” She stood, placing her napkin on the table. “Again, thank you for your hospitality, you have been a most gracious host. And while it has been fun reminiscing about my childhood in Aarlund, it is time for me to leave.”
“I must apologize,” said the old assassin, “but I forgot to mention that accommodations have been made and you will stay the night.”
Then one night it will be. She allowed herself to be led away to a room with a fancy bed, fluffy pillows, and thick duvet.
As she sat on the edge of the bed, she heard the unmistakable sound of the door being locked behind her.
CHAPTER 29
The Paupers Temple
It was early morning when Sihr walked up to the Paupers Temple and opened the door.
He was exhausted as it had been quite the couple of days in Nidavellir. He even felt as if had put on weight as the dwarf food was extremely rich, something he was not used to as his usual meals were quite simple and plain and not nearly so extravagant. Still, the dwarves did enjoy entertaining and did want to impress the kings of Dennland and Aarlund, as well as all the other visitors, and so the constant eating was warranted.
Sihr shook his head, then winced. Somehow Grum managed to look as fresh as a daisy in the morning, even though he had eaten far more than Sihr.
While it had been a treat to visit Nidavellir again and to have met the goblin-king, Sihr was relieved to be back at his humble temple. He looked forward to some simple Dennland tea and plain porridge. He was quite certain Rickters would be up this early in the morning, so hopefully everything would still be warm, maybe even hot.
As he approached the kitchen, however, he heard voices that were not Rickters. Strange there would be visitors this early. But not strange that Rickters would not be kind enough to invite the visitors in for a meal. Hopefully there is still enough food left over.
The Reckoning of Asgard Page 12
