This woman was undoubtedly the Witch Queen.
A draken followed, carrying the train of the queen's dress. Her face was marked with vicious welts.
The queen lifted Fryda’s chin with a long-nailed finger. The dragon soul was fixed to her crown, glowing faintly. “I understand you speak only Wallan?" Before Fryda could answer, the queen said, “A despicable language. Formed by despicable creatures. It has been some time since I've gazed upon one of your kind." Elmyra walked around Fryda, tutting and whispering to herself. A hand gripped Fryda's hair and pulled her head back. "You are beautiful for a human. The wyvern said you hail from Indham. Is this true?"
"Not originally," Fryda said. "I was born in the North."
Elmyra let go of Fryda's hair and resumed pacing. She wore a dress of gold, connecting only at the shoulders, with a slit running down her entire side. Every movement pulled at the fabric so that she spent as much time naked as clothed. Pale skin and purple scales were equally represented. A sword in a jeweled scabbard swung from a dragon-scale girdle.
"Unlike my brother," she said, "I care not for beasts. Nor do I care for humans. I have heard what those of Indham have done to the forest wyverns and cave dragons. Had I been capable of leaving Dragir, I would have destroyed Indham." She stroked the pillar, and its surface flickered with wards. "Soon I shall bring all of Indham under my control."
Fryda saw Naeth stir in bushes. She was still mostly hidden, except for her golden eyes. The queen's smile faltered, and Naeth burst from the bushes. Fire burst from Naeth's mouth, consuming the draken slave. Elmyra shielded herself behind the pillar, avoiding the flames.
The plants along the room's edge ignited, and Fryda was forced to hide behind a statue. With her back to it, she could feel the heat in the room rise. Sweat poured down her forehead.
The queen laughed, a terrifying cackle. Fryda peered out from behind the statue and saw the queen stretch forth her hands. She yelled something and a crackling doorway formed out of thin air. Unsheathing her sword, Elmyra stepped through the doorway and appeared behind Naeth.
Unaware of the queen's presence, Naeth was unable to do anything as the queen drove her blade into Naeth's side. The wyvern screamed and whirled around. Elven soldiers filtered into the room. They threw snares over Naeth, beginning with her mouth so that she couldn't spew dragonfire. The other snares trapped her limbs, restricting her movement.
All the while Fryda watched on in horror. Blood leaked from where Elmyra had stabbed Naeth. The elves dragged Naeth out from the enclave, but a half dozen remained.
"Were you party to this?" Elmyra said as she approached Fryda. It was the first time she had spoken in Wallan, and the sound was grating. She obviously despised speaking it. "It has been some time since any of the dragonkind have dared challenge me. Was it the whisperings of a human that turned the wyvern against me?"
Fryda feared now what Naeth had said. Would the queen torture Fryda before killing her?
The queen gripped Fryda around the shoulders with icy cold hands. Her eyes dilated like a serpent and a forked tongue slid across needle teeth. She yelled something at an elf who then fumbled with a coil of rope at his belt. He snipped a section with a dragon-toothed dagger and handed it to Elmyra.
Elmyra gripped Fryda's wrists in her slender hands with an astounding strength. Fryda tried to pull away but could barely move. When the nornthread tightened around her wrists, a foreign presence invaded her mind.
The queen's golden necklace glowed. "Cease your struggling."
Immediately, Fryda stood rigid, arms plastered to her sides. The queen circled her, smiling. Fryda noticed the burned draken slave beside the pillar.
"Did you know that the nornthread provides insight into a slave's emotions?" Elmyra said. "I do not know exactly what you're thinking as you stare at the draken, but I can tell you pity her. I have heard about your fight against the troll. You are quickly becoming a legend among the drakens.”
The queen turned to an elf and said something in the strange language. The elf left and returned a minute later with a female draken.
"You conspired with the wyvern to harm me," Elmyra said to Fryda. "I know this now. I also know that you pity the drakens. I'm sure you think that the nornthread is barbaric. Yet without it, how would I control my slaves? They cannot be left to think for themselves. Now, I want you to tear the eyes from this draken."
Horrified, Fryda stepped toward the draken. She plunged her fingers into the draken's eye sockets. Fryda clenched her own eyes as her nails tore out the draken’s. The draken screamed, but was unable to fight back.
"Stop screaming," the queen said offhandedly.
The draken's screams turned to whimpers as she clutched her face.
Her command accomplished, Fryda fell to her knees and began to cry. An attempt to wipe away her tears brought blood-soaked hands to her face. She let down her hands and glared at the Witch Queen. Hatred filled her heart. How could anyone be so evil?
"Good," Elmyra said. "Stand now."
Fryda obeyed. "You cannot do this. The gods will—"
"Quiet," Elmyra snapped. "Now you know that you are a slave. This is the fate of all those outside Dragir. Tonight, I shall seal Madrem's orb to the altar. You will attend the ceremony. Perhaps I shall make you emissary to Aernheim."
Fryda was taken to a chamber at the mountain’s heart. There were no guards at the door. She had been commanded to remain there until she was escorted to the ceremony—a command she couldn't break because of the nornthread.
Naeth was chained to the chamber's wall. The wound in her side had been seared shut. Iron chains bound her jaws.
"Why did you want to kill the queen?" Fryda hadn't had a chance to ask Naeth before, and now seemed like an appropriate time.
"I wanted vengeance. My brother Tursn would not listen to reason. I begged him to give up the quest for the dragon soul and to return to the Mikill Mountains. He grew obsessed with the idea, believing your words for truth. I told him they were lies, but then you found the dragon soul. I hate the queen for bringing us here. Were it not for her, we would be in the mountains. Now I cannot leave here else I'll die within a score of years. And my brother is still obsessed."
"Elmyra has the dragon soul now. She's going to seal it to the altar. She'll make the entire world into slaves."
"Better for us to accept our fates. I admire your determination, but it is all for naught. You ought pray to the gods that Elmyra grants you a swift end. I doubt I shall be so lucky."
With that, Naeth refused to speak anymore. Fryda drifted off to sleep, thinking of where Alfric might be and how she could possibly stop the queen from using the dragon soul.
29
Alfric
"It is the finest wine in all the land, grown in the vineyards I tend with my own hands." Hurn sat on his throne made of elk antlers, a wooden goblet held in two fingers.
Alfric sipped from his own goblet. It was good wine—there was no question of that—except undergirding the rich flavor was the taste of ash. The blood of the grapevine did not satisfy in the same manner as the blood of beasts. Nor did the blood of beasts quench the thirst like the crimson flow of a man.
For all his accomplishments in the past few days, he was still a monster. He set the goblet down on the table.
Bradir and Cyne lay on benches at the table's furthest end. Unlike Alfric, their goblets were filled with something that could quench thirst. Bradir seemed much more at peace than he had been upon first entering Eosorheim. Cyne had adapted to the forest with abandon—squirrels climbed around her shoulders, and foxes and badgers sat at her feet. Fur blanketed her body, yet she maintained a feminine beauty. Something stirred in Alfric. Hunger of a different kind.
Frustrated with his beastly desires, Alfric turned to Hurn. "Why are we celebrating? Fryda is imprisoned in Dragir. We have the silver scepter. We must leave now."
"Patience," Hurn said, an edge of frustration in his voice. "One never goes into battle without first fil
ling their bellies with good food and ale. Fryda will not be leaving Dragir. Nor will the dragon soul."
Alfric put his goblet down. He was too worried about Fryda to drink another mouthful. Another goblet sat in the table’s center. Alfric's nose now healed, he could smell its tantalizing aroma—blood. He shivered and denied himself.
"Why can't we go tonight?" he said to Hurn. "Surely we mustn't wait." Hurn had to have a hidden reason for not going. He had said that Elmyra's possession of the dragon soul would prevent the cleansing.
"Try to enter the other-realm. I guarantee you will be too exhausted to do so. Besides, night comes soon. It will be very difficult to control the wraith, even with the silver scepter, after such an exhausting day. You have earned a feast, so dine. Fryda and the dragon soul will not leave Dragir." Despite his confidence, the side of Hurn's mouth trembled slightly.
"What will Elmyra do with the dragon soul?"
"That's not a question for a feast," Hurn said with a sigh. "Nevertheless, I suppose you are general of Eosor's Army, so you are owed an answer. Elmyra will place the dragon soul on the altar within the Cave of the Sunless. Madrem's power will overtake Eosor's, thus allowing her to break the oath."
"What oath?" Alfric said.
"That is a tale too long to tell tonight."
"We have time, don't we?" Alfric didn't see himself sleeping at all, anyway.
"Elmyra and I were born in the elven land of The Five Kings. I loved the woodland creatures, so I Devoted myself to Eosor. Every opportunity I had, I committed deeds in Eosor's name, perfecting my runic devices. Whereas Elmyra was Devoted to Madrem. She spent much time dreaming of dragons, though there are none in The Five Kings. So when the elves led an expedition to Mount Dragir, she hid away on one of the vessels. I learned of this too late. When I followed her to Dragir, the elven soldiers had already captured her.
"I was unable to free her, so I petitioned Eosor. This was before the time of the First Priest, so Eosor still lived within the North, and agreed to counsel me. He called me as his own, and I became one of his Talented. Using his power, I freed my sister from her cell. Together, we went back to Grimwald Forest and lived there for a time.
"At that time, the First Priest came with Eosor in his orb. Eosor and I spoke of many things, including the ancient practice of spiritmelding. The imps were among our first experiments. Elmyra and I also experimented. Mine with the spirit of the great white elk, and Elmyra with the cave dragons. Many more creatures were birthed in that time, including the drakens.
"All the while, Elmyra plotted her revenge upon the elves in Dragir. She performed many acts in Madrem's name, thus gaining power beyond anything heard of at the time. She could see the outcome of battles before they happened, and know when an elven master would be dining in his chambers. Her armies were undefeated, and her enemies never lived long.
"The power of Madrem carries with it a taint. I warn you of this, Alfric, and to be careful what worlds you travel to. Madrem did not gift my sister with the ability to move between worlds, but she could move through time. By traversing such planes, she saw things no eye ought to see. So she was driven mad. She enslaved the drakens, believing them abominations. She herself is a draken, but she has convinced herself otherwise. She believes she is a dragon. She wields power almost equal to mine. Her subjects are convinced that she is a dragon, though she has the appearance of a draken."
"How can that be?"
"Would you to call the one who holds the lives of those you hold dear in her hand a dragon, even if she were not?"
“I’d do anything for them.” It was why he went on the quest to Grimwald in the first place. It was why he wanted to be gone from this feast and rescuing Fryda.
"There you have it. Power matters so very much, which is why we must be cautious how we use it. Nevertheless, the story continues. Now that Elmyra had control of Dragir, she was able to use Madrem’s orb to fashion traveling pylons. Even though her Devotion did not carry this gift, the orb allowed it. She sent armies across all the known world, enslaving all manner of creatures, from the least to the greatest.
“When I realized what kind of world she was creating, I stole Madrem's orb from its altar in Dragir and gave it to the Sentinel. After that, I tricked Elmyra by a mutual oath. This oath magic prevents us from leaving our domains without consequences. Us elves are gifted with lifetimes many times longer than humans. We have learned to enjoy this. If Elmyra leaves Dragir, her lifespan is reduced to a score of years. The same would happen to me, should I leave Grimwald. All the elves inside Dragir took this oath, forced by Elmyra. Some have since left, but they number less than a dozen."
Hurn peered at the untouched goblet on the table. He then made a point of looking at Bradir and Cyne. Golden light shone within their eyes—the result of a recent feed as power coursed through them. "There is another reason for this feast. Lifesoul keeps the wraith inside you strong. It's from this wraith that you derive your power."
Alfric stared at the goblet untouched by both him and Hurn. The blood inside it had been poured for him, an offer to give in to desire and become wholly skinwalker.
"We could rest until morning," Hurn continued, "but you still wouldn't be at your strongest. If you want to leave for Dragir tonight, then you must make a decision."
"I can't," he said. "It would make me less than human."
"You are more than human, Alfric. Without sufficient power, you won't be able to overcome Elmyra's elven guards.”
What would Fryda think? If she learned that he had given in to the thirst when he had the choice, she might hate him. But if he didn't drink from the goblet, she might die. He thought of her imprisoned inside that dark cell. How long would the dragons keep her? Surely a human like her was of no value to them.
Alfric gripped the goblet in trembling hands. The scent of blood set his heart afire. It was better for Fryda to live, even if it meant her hating him.
In trembling hands, he raised the goblet to his lips and swallowed the first mouthful. Blood ran down his throat and settled in his stomach, warming him like the strongest firewine. With an eagerness, he drained the rest of the goblet.
Everything around him seemed sharper, more alive. This was the power he needed to rescued Fryda.
Hurn handed Alfric the silver scepter. "Let's try this outside Eosor's influence."
Alfric tested the shield’s weight. "Will it stop dragonfire?"
"For a time," Hurn said. "If the dragon breathes fire for long enough, even a shield fashioned from glyptodon hide and enchanted with protection runes won't stop you from cooking."
Alfric smiled grimly. In his other hand, he held the silver scepter above his head. The golden dragon tumbled and turned within the jewel atop it. Whatever this dragon was, it wasn't Madrem. The real Madrem was contained within the dragon soul. Alfric couldn't believe he'd had a carcaern orb around his neck for years.
Alfric's stomach dropped as he recalled what had happened to Gos after touching Sif's orb. He turned to Hurn. "I was told every person who touched a carcaern orb contracted a deadly illness. Yet I wore the dragon soul for years."
Hurn didn't ask how Alfric had known about the sickness. "You are called by Madrem. You cannot suffer the illness from her orb. Give me the scepter. I’ll keep it safe while you’re in Dragir. You won’t be needing it there. One touch is enough for you to gain control for an evening.”
Alfric felt loss as he passed Hurn the scepter.
Bradir and Cyne stepped out from the trees into the field. In their hands, they gripped the hardened shell shields.
“Touch the runes”—Hurn held the scepter and they pressed their hands to it—“and the wraith shall not control you this night. Your quest is one of finesse and stealth. Alfric will open a rift into the Cave of the Sunless, find the dragon soul, and return here."
"What of the queen?" Bradir said.
"Do not harm Elmyra." Hurn’s tone bespoke a punishment harsher than death if they did. "Be swift and furtive with the s
enses Eosor has granted you. Once you leave the city gates, the dragon soul will be safe. Elmyra will not break her oath and pursue you. Not even for the dragon soul."
"I'll not leave without Fryda," Alfric said. "We need to go to where she's imprisoned after we get it."
Bradir scoffed. "The cleansing is more important than the life of one girl."
Alfric turned to Bradir and grabbed him by the chest fur. "We will not leave without her."
Bradir smirked and shrugged Alfric off of him.
"Cease your bickering," Hurn said. "Remember the importance of your quest. The woman is to be saved, Bradir." Bradir scowled but didn't argue otherwise.
Alfric tore open a rift. Allowing three people to travel through the rift took far more energy than when it had just been him and Hurn. By the time the others had walked through it and Alfric had followed them, he was out of breath.
"This doesn't look like a cave," Cyne said.
She was right. They weren't in the Cave of the Sunless but outside Dragir's gates.
The armored elf Alfric had seen when he'd come to this place before no longer guarded the entrance. The air was still. Alfric's enhanced senses could pick up no sights or sounds. They were dulled, as if by magic.
Bradir and Cyne scanned the area, seeming equally unsettled.
"I'll open another rift," Alfric said to them. He concentrated, allowing his will to fashion spiritsoul as he pulled at the air in front of himself. Before he could complete the action, something smashed into the ground beside him. A quarrel the size of a battering ram quivered in the ground beside him.
"Take care of it!" Alfric cried. "I'll open the rift."
A battle cry split the air. An armored elf leaped from the battlements, landing on the ground in front of Alfric. One hand steadied himself on the ground, the other held a spear over his shoulder. He looked up at Alfric and smiled. "You are one of Eosor's abominations," he said in a thick accent.
The Dragon Soul (Vagrant Souls Book 2) Page 20
