The Children of Wrath

by Mickey Zucker Reichert

  Ra-khir found the loophole. “Gods create.”

  Andvari had the answer to that concern. “Not Loki. He represented fire, destruction. He dedicated himself exclusively to ruining what the others made.”

  “Let’s go.” Tae looked at the citadel, training mind and eyes toward details. “Safety requires we work very slowly.”

  “How slowly?” Ra-khir reached for Kevral.

  Tae found a suitable example. “Remember when Darris led you through the catacombs to release your father from the dungeon?”

  Ra-khir paled. Ancient builders had designed the dark, twisted maze to assure that escaped prisoners died rather than found their way out. Only the bard and his or her heir memorized the proper route, and any deviation spelled death in aimless wandering. Then, Tae had followed Ra-khir and Darris, placing markers so that he could find his own way out as well. Groping for slashes in moss and dropped possessions had nearly driven Tae to madness when circumstance forced him to free the knights’ captain by himself. Now, he suspected, this task would prove nearly as difficult. He consoled himself with the realization that, if he failed, death would at least come swiftly. “That slow?”

  “Slower.”

  “Slower?” Ra-khir rolled his eyes from Kevral to Tae, the signal clear. Kevral might not have the patience to accompany him.

  Tae shrugged. He could not help agreeing, but his need for lighter weight companions, though true, told only half the story. If combat did occur, a Renshai of Kevral’s competence, even nearly eight months pregnant, was worth any three Northmen or Knights of Erythane. Soon enough, he would find himself embroiled in minutiae. For now, he needed to lighten the mood. “Let’s put it this way. If we’re not back in two months, consider us lost forever.”

  Kevral rubbed her abdomen. “If we’re not back in a month or so, look for five of us.”

  Darris winked. “Admit it, Tae. You just like being surrounded by women.” He made a motion to indicate Tae had chosen only female companions.

  “An elf, a child, and a pregnant, married Renshai who could kill me anytime she wanted.” Tae smiled tolerantly. “Aren’t I clever?” It surprised him how easily the words emerged. Any bitterness he harbored against Ra-khir had disappeared, and he found himself in no particular hurry for a family. If he discovered the right woman, he would treasure her. If not, he had Subikahn and his friends to fill the emotional void; and he doubted a prince would have difficulty with the physical one either. Realizing he had become the one stalling, Tae went serious. “If we get into trouble, El-brinith will signal.”

  Andvari, Darris, and Ra-khir nodded.

  Tae detailed his strategy. “No matter how slow I’m moving, let me have the front unless I ask for help. Follow in my footsteps, exactly if you can.” Realizing he would probably spend most of his time low, the logical location of most triggers, he amended, “Or hand and knee prints as the case may be. El-brinith, I’d like you directly behind me. Sing out if any magic looks suspicious, preferably before I blunder into it. Any questions?”

  “Is I gonna git to see nothin’?”

  Tae glanced back at Rascal. “I’ll make sure you know whenever I find something interesting.”

  Kevral piped in, “Constant description might keep me from dying of boredom, too.”

  Tae flinched. Sound might trigger traps, though not as easily as touch or weight. “I’ll let you know what I’m doing. Otherwise keep quiet as much as you can. Please. And pay attention to the route. We’ll need to find our way back, and it can happen much more quickly if I don’t have to find the exact same things I did on the way in.” This time, he did not solicit opinions, worried that they might never get started.

  Center of gravity low, Tae hunched around the pit, across the stretch of grass leading to Loki’s estate. Eyes and ears tuned to breaking, he explored each upcoming step with a cautious placement of part of his weight upon it, tensed to spring in any direction. By the time he safely reached the doorway, his eyes burned, tearing. His shoulders ached from his position, and he worried about the sanity of continuing the search. He could not help wondering if the immortal Trickster hoped unexpected visitors would kill themselves with their own caution. He edged toward the door to examine it more closely.

  A thin wire jutting near the knob caught Tae’s attention almost immediately. He headed toward it for a better look.

  As he moved, El-brinith cautioned. *There’s a concentrated band of magic near your feet.*

  Tae froze, then carefully back-stepped. “Where?”

  *There.* El-brinith pointed, the gesture too vague for Tae’s liking. She spoke a word outside Tae’s understanding, then spread her hands, fingers wide apart. Dust rose from the ground, swimming around a bar of dense light that hovered just off the ground in front of him. Though easily avoided by a high step, it first required seeing. Focused on the wire, he would likely have missed the magic, even if he had El-brinith’s talent.

  Expect a lot of this, Tae warned himself. The strategy of placing an obvious trap just beyond a subtle one made sense. Attention locked on the second, the best would-be thief would likely trip the first. Tae amended the thought. Loki probably did not worry about robbers but for neighboring giants and gods. Traps in twos and threes designed to stop massive creatures and deities. Great. Now, more than before, he appreciated the relative slightness of his companions. And the need to find snares without activating them.

  “Rascal.”

  The Pudarian approached Tae hesitantly.

  “Help me figure this out.”

  For longer than an hour, the two followed angles and speculated about the nature of the trap. At first, the girl contributed little. Over time, she discovered the mechanical portion of her mind, a marvelously complicated area that she clearly had used only intuitively in the past. A half hour brought the realization that Loki had interwoven the two traps, assuring that those who made it past the magical trigger fell prey to the solid reality of the second.

  Kevral attempted to practice sword forms, stopped by a vicious shake of Tae’s head. Conversely, the elf seemed unbothered by the delay, patience the virtue of the near immortal. Kevral found a position hunkered in the grass that did not appease her long. She paced; but, as she managed to keep her movements confined to areas already explored, Tae did not attempt to stop her. “Why don’t you just take the door off its hinges. Loki wouldn’t have expected that.”

  Rascal snorted and rolled her eyes which, luckily, Kevral did not see. Near an answer, Tae shook his head without turning from his scrutiny. “Remember, Kevral. Loki would set things up so that those ignorant, reckless, or sneaky would suffer. He’d go insane living in a home that he couldn’t enter and leave swiftly.”

  “Insane is precisely how most would describe the creature who started the Ragnarok, then opposed the gods, all the while knowing they would kill him.”

  Tae had to concede the point, though he did so without looking from the magical and mechanical devices and the inferences that had to take the place of what lay hidden behind the door. “Even the insane tolerate only so much inconvenience.” He looked at Rascal. “What do you think? Press the wire against the door and trip the latch at the same time?”

  Rascal smiled, for the first time not accompanied by a smirk. “That’d be my guess.” She could not help adding, “Ya goes first.”

  Eyes open, Tae did as he had suggested, poised for danger. When nothing untoward happened, he eased open the panel to reveal a room caked with dust. Every wall held an entryway. Lumps that represented rotted objects, possibly furniture, lay strewn around the room, the only identifiable object a filthy scaffolding that held a massive spear pointed directly at him. The wire branched, one part leading to the device, the other running along the jamb to the floor near his feet. Tae froze, afraid to let go.

  El-brinith came to his side.

  “Careful,” Tae whispered.

  El-brinith did not acknowledge the cautioning. *Two disturbances.* She spoke the same word as out on th
e porch, made a similar gesture. Copious dust flashed upward to highlight a narrow strip spanning the center of the room at about the height of his forehead. Another set crisscrossed madly in the exit to the right of the door.

  “Don’t stand in line with the door,” Tae instructed. “And don’t come any closer.” Easing his thumb from the wire, he dove sideways. An ancient rug disintegrated, and his shoulder slammed the stone floor. Rolling to his feet, he studied the spear. It looked no different than before. Nothing had changed where the wire stabbed into the floor either. Apparently, he had found the sequence that temporarily disarmed the traps and made entry safe. Now, he could see that the open panel kept the wires lax.

  Rising, Tae sighed. Their time away might seem long to those waiting, but to him it would stretch into infinity. He peered back outside. El-brinith waited near the entryway. The others dutifully hung back, and he could see Darris, Ra-khir, Andvari, and Chan’rék’ril watching him also. He made a crisp, sideways motion of his open palm, a curt greeting. Then he turned his attention fully to Kevral and Rascal. “Step over the bar without touching it.” He jabbed a finger toward the magic El-brinith had detected in front of the door. “Then it seems safe to come in. Best to leave the door open.”

  Without waiting to see if they complied, Tae ducked under the magical trigger in the room. He gestured for El-brinith to accompany him. “I assume we need to go that way.” He pointed to the web of magic.

  El-brinith followed Tae’s finger with her gaze. “I’d guess straight ahead. But I don’t have a whole lot of experience with buildings.”

  Tae turned his attention to the indicated exit, filled with spear and scaffolding that could hide any number of tiny devices, wires, magics, and springs. Until he saw the moldering, dust-caked furniture, it had not occurred to him that the decay of time might not only have harmlessly triggered some of the Trickster’s traps but might have ruined some of the built-in safety features that kept their creator from falling prey to his own inventions. Tae groaned. “That exit would have been my second guess.” He glanced at Rascal, who came forward eagerly. As she approached the hovering magic, he shouted, “Duck!”

  Rascal laughed, passing harmlessly under the bar. “Hain’t thinkin’ I knows where my head ends?”

  Keep taking chances like that, and your head will “ends” up in pieces on the floor. Tae glanced at Kevral. “This will take a while.”

  Kevral met his gaze with pleading eyes. A finger traced the hilt of one sword.

  “No, Kevral. Not here. El-brinith or I could have missed something. We can’t take that chance.”

  Kevral let her hand sag. “Is it going to be like this the whole way?”

  Tae nodded apologetically.

  Kevral sucked in a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “Why don’t I just save time and plunge into madness now?”

  Tae turned back to the job, but not before turning her a cock-eyed smile. “As you please.”

  * * *

  Béarn numbered rather than named its sea craft, yet Ship 90 morphed to Sea Knighty within a week of travel. During one of the ocean’s calmest days, the elves pooled agility and magic to emblazon the name across the prow. Béarn might see it as vandalism, but Captain did not discourage the action. To him, it demonstrated respect for the most valuable tool of a sailor. They could always clean it when they returned.

  CHAPTER 25

  Relative Morality

  When a force kills one’s friends, it is evil. When the same force kills one’s enemies, it becomes the blessed will of gods.

  —Colbey Calistinsson

  MORNING dragged into night. Black with dirt and mold, Tae’s hands felt like ground sausages, raw with rub burns, scratches, and abrasions. He had worn holes into the knees of his britches, leaving nothing to protect bruised flesh. Sweat glued his hair to cheeks and forehead. His eyes burned, meaningless sound buzzed in his ears, and he had strained his mental powers past their breaking point. Rascal’s enthusiasm had died to a spark. Increasingly more often, she simply shrugged or nodded to confirm his suspicions, rather than offer any suggestions of her own. Tae had successfully brought them past more than a hundred of Loki’s tricks, though only time’s ravages had rescued him from several. He had evaded his one failure with a quick jumping roll that had saved him from a pit filled with brackish water that had probably once held carnivorous fish or reptiles. Now it might have caused nothing worse than making him wet and foul-smelling, one more discomfort to weather with the others.

  Tae lowered his head, shoulders aching. He had not taken them by a direct route, deliberately bypassing some of Loki’s magical creations. These would most likely remain the most lethal, often inscrutable. In some instances, Tae found no means to avoid a touch. In others, he saw no connection between the trips and mechanical processes. A word or gesture probably rendered them passable, but Loki would not have posted those details for strangers to find. Surely, they had died with him. Tae only hoped their power had also diminished with time. Eventually, he worried, they could not avoid all of these.

  “The shard should be near here.” El-brinith’s voice broke a long silence, and Tae stiffened, sending a jolt of pain through aching muscles. “Look carefully. If not in this room, it’s close.”

  Tae blinked rapidly several times. His tear ducts seemed empty, and his too-dry eyes gave back blurry pictures. Hours ago, he had given up on chastising Kevral’s fidgeting or silencing Rascal’s complaints. Exhaustion plagued him, but boredom might prove the heavier burden for the others. Kevral had probably not gone without a practice this long before in her life. He dropped to a sitting position, too tired to bother with the others. He and El-brinith had studied the room with a caution that surely seemed like paranoia to the others. Even after so many victories, he still expected the immortal schemer to trip him up with something unforeseen. Tae did not even voice his discomfort when the others left formation to search, diligently stepping around or over the magical snarl El-brinith had revealed near an exit to the west.

  “Here it is!” Kevral shouted suddenly. Her boot scraped over stone as she moved.

  The call mobilized Tae, and he leaped to his feet faster than his cramped muscles preferred. Pain exploded through him, even as his eyes registered the scene. Kevral headed east, lunging leftward toward a staircase he had examined only cursorily. He had confined his scrutiny to the top step, otherwise he probably would have found the shard himself.

  A click reached Tae’s ears, barely differentiable from the constant ringing. He caught movement from an upper corner of his vision, above Kevral’s head. “No!” He sprang at Kevral, slamming her safely aside. Ceiling stones collapsed around him as he toppled down the staircase. One crashed against his hand with an agony that wrenched out a scream. Then, the edge of a step smashed Tae’s forehead, and he knew nothing more.

  * * *

  Once the traps had been disarmed or delineated, it did not take El-brinith long to guide Ra-khir, Andvari, Darris, and Chan’rék’ril through them. The five arrived to find Kevral pawing furiously through rubble. Feverish digging accomplished little, but she did not stop until Ra-khir took her in his arms and physically dragged her from the pile. Only then, she allowed the tears to flow. “I killed him,” she croaked, voice muffled into Ra-khir’s tunic. “It’s all my fault.”

  “Stuppid ta cry,” Rascal said without sympathy. “He knowed the danger when he comed. All us did.”

  Kevral would have throttled the ragged Pudarian had Ra-khir’s strong arms not held her in place. “Frustrated. Impatient. Not thinking straight.”

  Chan’rék’ril knelt beside them. “Even with magic, it’ll take at least a couple days to move all this.”

  Kevral rolled her eyes to Ra-khir, and he cringed. “Then we work for a couple of days.”

  The elf guarded his tongue. “Tae might need . . . attention. Two days might be . . . too long. More likely, it’s already . . .”

  Kevral gave him a fierce look.

  “I’ll do my bes
t,” Chan’rék’ril said. “I just don’t want to raise unrealistic hopes.”

  El-brinith called Chan’rék’ril with a subtle gesture likely intended to silence him.

  Andvari studied the situation. “It’s a staircase, you say?” Tears filled his eyes as well. It seemed odd that the two trained to war fell prey to sorrow first.

  Kevral nodded.

  Andvari finished, “If he slid down far enough, it’s possible he missed the worst of the debris.”

  Chan’rék’ril ran with the suggestion. “I could clear a space at the top. Someone small could climb through and assess the situation below. If we know where Tae is, it’ll change the way we move the stones.”

  All eyes went naturally to Rascal, who scowled. “Hain’t volunteerin’.”

  The urge to kill Rascal flared again. Kevral looked at the urchin from over Ra-khir’s shoulder. “After all Tae’s done for you, you won’t scout for him? With his life at stake?”

  Rascal balled her fists. “I seed what happent when he tried ta save ya. Now, he’s daid an’ ya’s ’live.” She turned away. “Hain’t no one’s life worth more’n mine.”

  Kevral gritted her teeth. Yours isn’t worth anything right now.

  Ra-khir tightened his grip. “It’s her decision, Kevral.”

  Arguing the point would only waste valuable time. “I’ll go,” Kevral said. “It’s only right.”

  “Begging your pardon, Lady.” Chan’rék’ril shook his head. “If I clear a space large enough for you in your current state, I risk crushing Tae with shifting stone.”

  “Please, Rascal,” Darris said. “You’re the only one—”

  “No.” Rascal kept her back to the others, slamming her crossed arms to her chest emphatically. “Hain’t riskin’ misself for one what’s alriddy daid.”

  Kevral spoke through gritted teeth, her tears turning hot. “Please, let me kill her.”

  Ra-khir shook his head with the expression of a teacher disciplining an inattentive student. “She has a point, Kevral. And a right to preserve her own life.”