I took another step forward, disoriented by the act of walking into a tree and not hitting the other side. The darkness remained solid as we walked further
Alaric abruptly grabbed my arm. I froze in alarm, but then he moved and I realized he was just signaling that there was a step down in front of us. I followed Alaric's lead down several more steps, blind in the darkness, until we reached the landing and the gentle lighting of the Salr.
This new Salr was startlingly similar to Estus'. There was no apparent source of lighting, yet the hall was filled with a dim glow, illuminating the same gray stone that composed the other Salr.
The blonde had gotten several steps ahead of us as I stumbled on the steps, and now turned to wait further down the hall. Alaric held out his arm to me. I stared at his arm, not sure I understood the gesture, but it became clear as his other hand guided my arm through the bend of his elbow. He then moved his guiding hand to grasp my fingers, placing them delicately onto his forearm.
The blonde chuckled, then turned and started walking again, boot heels clacking on the stone. The other Vaettir shifted impatiently behind us, and I quickly hopped forward then started walking.
I felt awkward being escorted rather than walking on my own, though I would have taken other forms of closeness. I was part of the hand-holding or arm around the shoulders generation, and being led around like a lady felt weird.
“Why all of the formality?” I whispered, keeping my gaze forward.
“Shh,” Sophie warned from behind us.
I bit my lip, wanting to argue. We'd had no time to plan, and I had no idea what courtesies we were supposed to observe when going into a foreign Salr. Then again, we were there to take them over, so maybe we weren't supposed to be courteous at all.
I glanced over my shoulder to see Sophie and James walking side-by-side, and the rest of the Vaettir walking in pairs behind them. Perhaps we'd be observing some ceremonies after all.
We were led though multiple twists and turns, until eventually we came upon a large throne room, similar to the one in Estus' Salr. It seemed odd that a place of refuge, which was what the Salr were, would come with a throne room, but it also seemed odd that they came with dungeons, unless the features had been added once the Vaettir began to live in them full time. Maybe the Salr shaped itself to suit its inhabitant's needs. I'd seen enough crazy stuff lately that anything seemed possible.
Unlike Estus' throne room, which held a dais, but was barren of decor, this one was accented with heavy tapestries done in rich colors, and thick, Persian rugs. The Vaettir who'd escorted us went to stand on either side of the room in orderly lines, while the blonde went to stand by the simple, wooden throne. At first I thought she might sit in it, but then a man emerged from a nearby doorway and stole the show.
He looked just as Viking-esque as the rest of them, except with rich, chestnut-colored hair instead of blond. His roughly 6'5” frame was covered by a heavy robe done in gold and garnet red. Our eyes met, and he smiled, then he moved his gaze to the blonde by the throne. His eyes had been a startlingly bright reddish brown that contrasted interestingly with his armpit-length hair.
The Vaettir surrounding us knelt as he walked past them. I watched them stupidly until Alaric tugged me down to my knees. I glanced at him, but his expression was unreadable, so I turned my eyes to the reddish-haired man instead.
He lowered himself onto the throne, seeming somewhat out of place in the regal setting, likely because he looked around thirty years old. I had expected an older person as Doyen, just like Estus, but it was a silly expectation. The more powerful the Vaettir, the less they aged. To have become Doyen, this man was likely old, and to look so young bespoke his power. Estus was scary powerful himself, but not powerful enough to halt the aging process as much as others.
Of course, he might just be descended from a major deity, like Alaric. Less power, but no aging. The man gestured for us to stand, but stayed seated himself.
“I am Mikael,” he announced as we stood, “Doyen of this clan. You must be Madeline.”
I realized with a start that he was talking to me. I had expected him to start with Alaric or Sophie, or anyone else who actually might know what was going on.
“Y-yes,” I stammered. “That's me.”
He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow at me. “I'm told you've come to take over my clan. Forgive me, but you don't seem well-equipped for such a task.”
I bit my lip. The blonde had been with us the entire time, so someone else must have raced ahead to rat us out.
When I didn't deny nor confirm his accusation, he asked, “Do you have the lykill?”
My eyes narrowed in confusion. The word was pronounced ley-kik, and sounded like the language I'd heard Alaric and Sophie speak.
“The ley-what?”
“It means key,” Alaric whispered, finally deciding to be helpful.
He didn't elaborate any further, which made me think we didn't want Mikael to know we had the charm.
“I'm not sure what you mean,” I replied loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.
“She's lying,” the blonde stated immediately.
Mikael smiled, and it was a bit unnerving. “I cannot let you take my clan from me,” he announced, “but I can offer you sanctuary from your pursuers.”
“But why?” I asked at the same time Alaric said, “I don't think so.”
I had been so focused on Mikael, I only then noticed the anger emanating from Alaric.
“I could simply take the key from her,” Mikael commented as his gaze moved to Alaric. “Your choice.”
The charm in question was pulsing at my neck like something alive, as if it sensed all the excitement. Before I could think better of it, I reached my hand up to my throat to touch the little key through the collar of my shirt.
Mikael turned his gaze back to me, quirking the corner of his mouth into a half-smile. “Unless she knows how to use it . . . ”
I could have cut the tension around us with a knife. All the Vaettir had gone rigid, waiting for their Doyen to signal the attack. The only person who appeared calm was Mikael, still slouched on his throne with one leg now dangling casually over one of the chair-arms.
I continued to clutch at the charm, unsure of what to do. I had no idea how to use it, but Mikael didn't know that. I flicked my eyes to Alaric, hoping for some subtle advice. What I got was not subtle at all.
“I hope you can figure this out quickly,” he began, his eyes only for me, “because I won't be able to hold them off for long.”
At a sudden flick of Mikael's hand, the Vaettir surrounding us surged forward. Alaric and Sophie were nothing but blurs as they darted around me, flinging our attackers aside like rag dolls. I smelled burning flesh somewhere behind me and knew that James had joined the fray.
I stood frozen as I clutched the charm. I briefly thought about the knife at my waist, but dismissed it. My eyes found Mikael, who still sat casually upon his throne. He gazed at me with his head tilted downward in challenge, daring me to act.
Feeling like I was in a trance, I untied the cord that held the charm, removing it from my neck, then dangled it out in front of me. Accepting the taunt, Mikael stood, then strode confidently toward me. Somewhere in the back of my mind, my thoughts raced, asking me what the hell I thought I was doing, but the front of my mind was calm, and didn't feel like it belonged to me any longer.
A part of me knew I should be sensing the pain of those getting injured around me, but it was somehow blocked out. All I could focus on was the charm in my hand, and Mikael's determined gaze as he neared me. Distantly I knew his people were attempting to capture, not kill my companions, as we were greatly outnumbered, but remained unharmed. Whatever had taken me over rejected the idea of capture. It was not an option.
I didn't feel in control of my own limbs as I yanked the cord up, then caught the charm in the palm of my hand. The charm's pulsing grew stronger. The distant back part of my mind realized the charm was feed
ing on the chaos around me. I could feel it sucking the energy in, much like I did when I released a soul, except I only took a portion of the energy, the charm was taking all of it.
Alaric flashed for a moment in front of me, then was gone, tumbling to the side as he kept another one of our attackers away from me. We were extremely outnumbered, but having two five-hundred year old embodiments of war fighting on our side helped to even the odds.
Mikael reached me, and it was like everything around us went still. I knew that mere seconds were passing, but the scene was playing out before me in slow motion. The charm's stolen energy began to trickle down my arm, filling me up with more power than I would get from one hundred simultaneous deaths.
Mikael reached out, just as the charm's consciousness suddenly ripped through my mind. It didn't want to go with him. Our powers were the same, and I would be able to use it to its full potential.
Energy shot from the fist I'd closed around the charm. I wasn't sure if it was my doing, the charm's, or a mixture of both, but it brought Mikael to his knees. He gritted his teeth against the force of it, but was unable to regain his feet.
Words trickled out of my mouth that I didn't quite understand. “You will kneel until I tell you to stand, Mikael Agnarsson.”
“I . . . did not . . . expect this,” he spat through gritted teeth.
Finally he bowed his head, and the torrent of energy stopped, just as the key's consciousness left me all at once. I looked around the room, truly freaked out, having no idea how I'd known Mikael's surname.
Those who still stood were silent. Alaric and Sophie both waited within arm's reach, but neither reached out to touch me.
I looked back down at Mikael, who had raised his head to glare at me. “I suppose this alters my plans,” he stated calmly. I was pretty sure he could have stood then if he wanted to, but he stayed kneeling. “What would you have of me, mennskurð?”
I glanced at Alaric and whispered, “What is mennskurð?”
He looked a little green as he answered, “It means the lady, but refers to a woman of high standing, sometimes a seeress.”
I looked back to Mikael, who waited patiently with an odd smile on his face. The smile wasn't exactly bitter or unhappy, maybe rueful, or . . . calculating?
All of the Vaettir waited with their eyes glued to me. Some looked worried or confused, some angry, and some apathetic.
“What should I say?” I whispered again.
“You know, I can hear you,” Mikael teased. For someone who was losing control of his clan, he didn't seem terribly upset.
A catty remark froze on the tip of my tongue. It probably was a bad idea to antagonize even a fallen Doyen while his people waited ready to pounce.
“I would like to hold a private audience with you, and my advisors,” I added quickly. “We have delicate matters to discuss.”
Mikael's smile widened, a hint of challenge in his reddish eyes. “Wise choice, mennskurð. May I stand?”
“Yes,” I replied as I took a step back, “and please, just call me Madeline.”
He rose, taking a step forward to close the space between us, then offered me his arm. “Shall we?”
I looked down at the offered arm, then to Alaric, who nodded. Sophie was paler than usual, but fully determined as she kept her eyes trained on the other Vaettir around us. James just looked scared.
I looped my arm through Mikael's and allowed him to escort me, much like Alaric had done earlier. The fabric of his ornate robe was scratchy underneath my palm. He led me toward the door he had originally emerged from, and had to hold up his free hand to stop the blonde from following us. She did not look happy.
We went through the door unhindered, with my three companions following behind us. James shut the door, and I felt instant relief, even though it was still uncomfortable to have Mikael at my side. The room we entered was done up like a sitting room, with large, cushy chairs and a gleaming coffee table in the middle. It seemed like a good place for a private meeting, but Mikael kept walking.
We went through another door, down the hallway for a while, then through a final door into a room with a large table and chairs all around. It would have looked like any other conference room, except the walls and floor were made of stone, and the table was made of rough-hewn planks of wood as thick as my torso.
Mikael dropped my arm, then pulled a chair out for me. After I sat he went around the table to sit across from me, leaving everyone else to get their own chairs. Alaric took the chair to my left, then Sophie and James took the next ones down. I was glad they still wanted to sit near me after what had happened with the charm. I wasn't sure if I even wanted to sit near me.
“That was quite the display,” Mikael stated, breaking the silence. “I have a feeling things will be much more interesting this time around.”
“This time around?” Sophie questioned.
Mikael grinned. “Yes, my dear, last time the Lykill surfaced, it fell into the hands of an earth spirit. She caused a great deal of destruction, but earthen spirits at their core embody stability and patience. Really, she had no business wielding a tool of chaos. Executioners, or simply Dauðr in the old tongue, can control massive amounts of energy, the same type of energy controlled by the charm.”
His gaze landed solely on Alaric and Sophie as he said, “The only thing more interesting would have been if the charm had chosen one of you. A being of chaos and war to wield a powerful tool of, well, chaos and war.”
“So let me get this straight,” I interrupted. “You were around when the charm was last used, when all of those terrible scenes of bloodshed and misery occurred?”
Mikael raised an eyebrow at my question. “You speak as if you witnessed those scenes with your own two eyes.”
“One of the women who gave her life to seal the charm away showed them to me,” I explained, feeling suddenly angry, though I wasn't sure why.
He steepled his fingers together in thought. “Interesting, very interesting,” he mused.
I glared at him. “You didn't answer my question.”
“He was there,” Alaric answered for him.
I looked back and forth between the two men. “You two know each other?” I asked, perplexed.
Sophie met my eyes as I scooted back so I could view everyone at once. She looked just as confused as I felt.
“We've met,” Alaric replied, clipping his words in irritation.
“But that's a tale for another time,” Mikael finished for him, then turned back to me, “What is it you plan, mennskurð?”
Unsure of whether we were divulging our actual plans or not, I turned to Alaric.
His jaw was clenched in irritation. It reminded me of how he'd looked when he allowed James to torture me. I was beginning to realize that look was reserved for situations where he was forced to follow decorum when he really, really didn't want to.
When it became apparent that I wasn't going to get any advice, I turned back to Mikael. “We're going to start a war, and I need you to instigate the first battle.”
Mikael chuckled. “And for this task, you've chosen one of the smallest clans in existence?”
My mouth opened into an oh of surprise. “It was kind of a choice of convenience,” I said weakly. I glanced at Alaric again, then back to Mikael.
“Who were you hoping to start a war with?” he pressed.
I eyed him suspiciously. “Why are you being so cooperative? Just a short while ago, you were threatening to take the charm away from me.”
His slight cringe was the only sign that he’d minded the exchange. “You quickly proved that it was not an option,” he explained. “The key has chosen you as its wielder, and will protect your right to it.”
“You speak like it has a mind of its own,” I accused, feeling uncomfortable in the hard, wooden chair.
He laughed so suddenly that I jumped in my seat. “Would you argue with such a claim?”
I thought back to the energy flowing through the charm, and the f
oreign thoughts and emotions that had raced through my head. “I guess not.”
“We will start a war among the two largest clans of the Vaettir,” Alaric cut in, saving me from Mikael's calculating gaze.
Mikael's smile was wicked as he turned back to me with a look of excitement in his eyes. “Well then,” he replied. “This shall be very interesting indeed.”
Interesting wasn't how I'd describe it. I'd go with terrifying, sad, or maybe guilt-inducing. I'd have no qualms if Estus died in the process, but many others would die too. Innocent people with no choice but to follow orders would be sacrificed unwillingly for our cause. Now to add to everything, we were going to do it with one of the smallest clans around. If we made one wrong move, Estus or Aislin would wipe us out.
I looked around the table, doubting everything. It was obvious that Mikael didn't share my sentimentality, and I doubted Alaric or Sophie would either. Maybe James and I could cry together about it over a shared bottle of wine. Now that would be interesting.
8
We were given rooms and food. Everyone was extremely courteous, and I didn't trust it one bit. My empath abilities allowed me to sense the confusion and fear wafting off any Vaettir who neared us. They had no idea what was going on, or why their leader was catering to the people they'd taken prisoner.
Alaric, Sophie, and James all currently occupied the room I'd been given, though they'd each been allotted rooms just as grand. They looked out of place in their black clothing against the royal blue and gold decor. The artfully carved oversized furniture, colorful tapestries, and thick, cozy bedding must have cost a pretty penny.
I sat on said bedding, waiting for someone to tell me what we were supposed to do next, but all they could do was argue.
“Why have I never heard of Mikael?” Sophie snapped at Alaric as she stalked back and forth across the carpet. “How do you know him? We would have planned this whole thing differently.”
“Sophie,” Alaric replied calmly. “We didn't plan any of this. It's not like we were taken prisoner on purpose, and I had no idea Mikael was Doyen here.”
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