Blood of the Isir Omnibus

by Erik Henry Vick

  “Meuhlnir said he wondered if her striking you was the start of her fall from grace.”

  “I know he thinks that, but I don’t. Many things started her down the path she is on. Striking me might have dented her armor, so to speak, but there were many blows to that armor that caused it to fail. You understand?”

  “Yes,” I said. “People don’t change by leaps and bounds, but by small, infinitesimal degrees, in my experience.”

  “Indeed,” said Sif. “Now, let me administer more of this cream.”

  “I’m okay,” I said. “Really.”

  “Hardly,” she scoffed. “You think I can’t see through male stubbornness and bravado? After living five centuries with that great lout yonder?”

  “I heard that, woman,” grunted Meuhlnir.

  “And indeed, you were meant to. Now tell your friend here to stop being a typical man and let me minister to his pain.”

  Meuhlnir straightened from picking at something in Kutltohper’s hoof. “Best do as she says, Hank,” he said, tipping me a wink. “It’s that or be harried until you do, and of the two options, let me testify that the first is much easier on the ego.”

  That was how I ended up standing next to a blazing fire with my pants down while a thick soup bubbled and popped beside me. “We will help you get rid of this curse,” she promised. “Between Meuhlnir’s skills as a vefari, my healing knowledge, and Yowrnsaxa’s gifts, we will overcome the Dark Queen’s curse.”

  “Well, this miracle cream helps a lot in the meantime.”

  Sif waved that away. “Merely treating the symptom, not the cause.”

  I chuckled. “That’s all anyone has been able to do for me thus far. Relief, at this point, is good enough for me.”

  She nodded, expression sour. “Maybe so, but it is not good enough for me. We will help you be rid of this, Hank.”

  “Just so,” said Yowrnsaxa.

  “Well, thanks, but don’t worry if there’s nothing you can do.”

  “Of course there’s something we can do,” said Meuhlnir, walking over from the horses and looking into the cook pot. “We cannot allow you to suffer in this way.”

  I looked at their earnest faces, one by one, knowing that they meant what they said, but not knowing—not really knowing—if they could deliver. When I got to Mothi, he cracked a big smile.

  “Don’t look at me,” he said. “I’m just the muscle.”

  “With his biggest muscle right between his eyes,” said Meuhlnir.

  “Oh, don’t you two start,” said Yowrnsaxa with mock severity, pushing a bowl of soup into my hand. “Eat this, Hank.”

  Mothi had pulled up a couple of fallen trees so that we wouldn’t have to sit in the snow, and I sank down on a comfortable-looking bend in the larger of the two. My appetite had awoken during the conversation with Sif, and I wolfed the soup down as fast as I could spoon it into my mouth. Sif elbowed Yowrnsaxa and pointed at me with her spoon, a large grin splitting her face.

  “There’s more,” said Yowrnsaxa between chuckles. “Mothi can eat, but I’ll not let him eat you into starvation.”

  “Good,” I said. “I mean, it’s good.” I wanted to expand on the compliment, but there was more delicious soup in my bowl waiting to be eaten.

  “Well, I’m glad you enjoy my trail cooking. We’re going to be eating a lot of it, I fear.”

  Meuhlnir grunted.

  Yowrnsaxa smiled at her husband.

  “So,” I said between spoons of delicious soup, “who will tell me more about the Dark Queen or Luka?”

  Meuhlnir smiled and sighed. “I remember the time when Luka and I were boys and—”

  “Oh, you great buffoon! He doesn’t want to hear you reminisce about your youth. He wants to know what made them the way they are,” said Sif.

  “Then you tell him something,” said Meuhlnir with a shrug.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Tell me about being one of the Dark Queen’s ladies.”

  Sif cocked her head to the side and stared off into the darkness of the woods. “She was always flirting with the Vuthuhr Trohtninkar especially with that great lout across the fire. Not that any of them objected, as she was quite beautiful when she was young.”

  “I don’t know that it was flirting,” said Meuhlnir. “There was a lot of teasing and banter, that’s for sure, but flirting?”

  Yowrnsaxa burst out in a loud belly-laugh. “It’s amazing that men and women ever marry,” she said with tears running down her cheeks.

  “Whatever do you mean?” asked Meuhlnir with a frown.

  “Don’t know if it was flirting? Men never do. They just play along and wait for a woman to hit them on the head with a sign that says, ‘Kiss me, you fool.’ Of course she was flirting with you and your lot. She wanted male companionship. She wanted…I don’t know…intimacy.”

  “No,” said Meuhlnir. “It was—”

  “Yes,” said Sif. “She told us many times. She wanted to be in love with someone, and where was she going to meet anyone?” She scoffed. “The court? All those decrepit old men?” She made a dismissive gesture. “Not a chance. But she was surrounded by the bravest men in the empire. Tall, strong men with big, burly chests and great long beards.”

  Meuhlnir shook his head but kept his tongue.

  “At any rate, she was always flirting with one of a select few Vuthuhr Trohtninkar—Meuhlnir, Luka, Veethar, Vowli, Paltr, Pratyi, and Huthr were the main ones she was interested in. That was back when they all got along.”

  Meuhlnir grunted with a sour expression on his face. “Before Huthr was tricked into killing Paltr and Vowli murdered Huthr.”

  “Yes,” said Sif. “Before all that. Suel seemed to enjoy getting them all twisted up with innuendo. She toyed with them, even as she wanted one of them. It wasn’t one of the finer points of her character.”

  Meuhlnir bristled and opened his mouth to speak, but Yowrnsaxa put her hand on his, and he looked at her and then closed his mouth.

  “I remember a time when she invited Vowli and Luka to her reception chambers. The conversation that occurred was…dark. It started when she asked them if she should bother listening to the karls—the merchants and land owners.”

  Twenty-four

  “All these petitioners,” said Queen Suel. “The headaches they cause me are almost constant.”

  “Ignore them, my Queen,” said Vowli. He stood before her with a confident manner and a brash smile on his lips. “What are they to you?”

  Sif scoffed without meaning to.

  “Something to add, Sif?” said Suel.

  Though the queen’s voice was silky-smooth, it was laced with angry undertones. Internally, Sif cringed. That tone of voice was a strong indication that the queen was in one of her moods. “No, your Majesty. Forgive me.”

  The queen looked at her with stony eyes and a hard smile. “When I want to hear from you, girl, I will ask your opinion.”

  It used to be that Queen Suel valued the opinions of her Trohtninkar Tumuhr, and not only allowed but encouraged them to speak freely. It was becoming apparent, however, that she now viewed their opinions as interruptions at best.

  “Yes, your Majesty,” said Sif.

  Suel continued to stare at her for a protracted moment, while Vowli and Luka tried to hide their amusement. “Is that a note of disapproval in your voice, skyuldur vidnukona? Are you my peer now? Are you my judge?”

  “No, your Grace! I wouldn’t think of it.”

  “You would do well to keep your cow’s mouth shut in my presence today, skyuldur vidnukona,” snapped Suel. “Go stand next to the wall. I can’t stand the sight of you.” The queen’s voice was cold and distant, almost hateful.

  Sif bowed low and took her place next to Yowrnsaxa along the side wall of the chamber. Yowrnsaxa gave her hand a quick squeeze as soon as the queen turned away.

  The queen looked back at Vowli and treated him to a sweet smile. “My apologies, Vowli. Please, continue.”

  “As I was saying, your Maje
sty, what are these people to you? They are your subjects and must obey your will.”

  The queen shrugged. “That’s true enough, but don’t I have certain responsibilities toward the people I rule?”

  “I don’t see why,” said Vowli.

  “It is as Vowli says, your Grace,” said Luka. “These people are lucky to have you as a ruler. This land is known for the quality of life you give your people. They should learn to appreciate you, instead of heaping new demands on you every week.”

  The queen pursed her lips and then laughed her new, gravelly laugh. “But what happens to the quality of life if I begin to ignore their grievances?”

  Vowli shrugged. “To my mind, the quality of life of the karls and thralls are less important than the yarls, who in turn, are less important than yourself, your Grace.”

  “But surely it is the role of yarls to better the quality of life for our subjects. Isn’t that why Isi set us above the lower castes?”

  Luka grinned and shook his head. “Who can say why we were set above the others? Maybe because we are better than they are. Maybe our lives matter more than theirs.”

  Suel laughed again. “That seems like a decadent philosophy, my dear Luka. Possibly an immoral one.”

  Vowli shrugged and dazzled her with a smile. “As with all things, your Grace, morality is never black and white. It is, after all, a construct of mere men, and is bent this way and that to serve the wants of those who scream about it the loudest.”

  Suel looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “So then, what truly guides the actions of us all?”

  “Our basest desires, dressed up as virtue. Aren’t the sagas full of tales that illustrate this point?”

  “I don’t recall any sagas that could be said to support your hypothesis, Vowli.” Suel cocked her head to the side. “Unless you mean that there are no selfless actions? Everyone has a hidden motivation for every act?”

  Luka laughed. “Sometimes not so hidden.”

  Vowli clapped his friend on the back. “It’s true. I have never seen anyone act in a way that can’t be explained by wish gratification. Even the most selfless of acts.”

  “Interesting,” said Suel. “So, you argue that there is no altruism, that everyone does what he does because he gets some reward from it? What about my actions these past years? What were my rewards?”

  Vowli grinned with insolence and spread his arms wide. “This is quite a palace, my Queen. You’ve servants and courtiers to do your bidding and meet your every desire.”

  Suel’s eyes narrowed, and her brows twitched together. “Your argument seems to judge me in a dark light, Vowli.”

  “Not at all, your Majesty. You, above all, deserve to be pampered. You are the best of us.”

  “Then I should make decisions based on what I want rather than what is best for all?”

  “Your Grace,” said Luka, “we are but Vuthuhr Trohtninkar. These questions are not for us to decide.”

  “We do your bidding, your Majesty,” said Vowli with a smile.

  “So, after all this, you hide behind your positions?”

  Luka looked grave. “Who am I to advise Your Grace? I am not king.” He smiled slyly. “Not yet.”

  Suel rolled her eyes and pretended to be offended, but everyone knew she was pleased. “So bold,” she purred. “I think I like that.”

  She turned and looked at Sif. “Skyuldur vidnukona, make sure I have time in my schedule to speak to these two fine examples of manhood often.”

  Sif bowed but kept her ‘cow’s mouth’ shut.

  Twenty-five

  “I believe that conversation with Vowli and Luka was the start of Suel’s fall. It is what set her on this dark path,” said Sif.

  Yowrnsaxa nodded. “Indeed. It was as if she were looking for permission to give in to her baser desires, and their philosophy was that permission. She spoke with them many times after that, both alone and as a pair, and spent less and less time with Pratyi, Paltr, Veethar, and even Meuhlnir.”

  Meuhlnir nodded, his expression sad. “We all thought that we’d offended her somehow.”

  “We all thought she’d narrowed the field to Luka and Vowli,” said Yowrnsaxa.

  “And later, Huthr,” whispered Sif.

  Meuhlnir’s eyes blazed at the name. He stood and stalked off into the woods.

  Yowrnsaxa stirred to go after him.

  “Let him be,” whispered Sif.

  Yowrnsaxa looked off into the woods but sank down again. “I wish I could help him.”

  “We all do, Mother Yowrnsaxa, but there are some things a man must do for himself,” said Mothi, his eyes on the fire.

  Sif glanced my way. “Huthr was another of Meuhlnir’s brothers. Paltr, Huthr, and Luka.”

  Yowrnsaxa nodded. “They were all so close. Luka’s treachery cut deep.”

  “Talking about philosophy was all it took to lead the Dark Queen astray?” I couldn’t keep the distaste from my voice.

  “Oh, no. Much happened that contributed to her fall.”

  “Indeed,” said Sif. “Though none of us knew it, there was a great darkness growing in Suel—both in the queen herself, and her land. Some of the nobility had grown—”

  “Jealous,” said Yowrnsaxa. “Jealous of the queen’s reputation, riches, the loyalty she inspired in the populace. They thought she had usurped their role with the peasantry.”

  Sif nodded. “More than a few were misled down a dark path filled with hatred and envy.”

  “The war,” said Meuhlnir from the darkness ringing the camp.

  “Oh, aye,” said Sif. “The civil war completed what everything else had begun and cemented Suel to her own terrible path.

  “She committed such atrocities against the people she once loved.”

  Yowrnsaxa sniffed back tears. “She did. She enjoyed it, too.”

  “Thus is the nature of darkness in the soul,” said Mothi. “History has taught us this again and again.”

  “Misery loves company,” whispered Sif.

  “And all this…darkness infected Luka?” I asked.

  My four companions were quiet for a long moment.

  “Oh, he was a willing enough conspirator,” said Meuhlnir, stepping back into the light of the fire. “She could be—”

  “Persuasive,” said Yowrnsaxa. “She was almost hypnotic in her intensity toward the end of her reign. It was almost as if she could persuade a certain kind of man to do anything.”

  “Luka and Vowli were…I don’t know. It was as if they competed with one another to see who could commit the blackest act in her name.” Meuhlnir gazed into the fire, misery etched on his face. “Paltr and I were—” His voice broke.

  “The two of them were growing ever more disillusioned with Suel’s reign,” said Sif. “As were most of us.”

  “When Paltr told the Dark Queen he was leaving the Vuthuhr Trohtninkar, she…” Meuhlnir shook his head and dropped his eyes to the dirt in front of him.

  “She pretended to accept it,” whispered Yowrnsaxa. “But she didn’t.”

  “No,” said Meuhlnir in a broken voice. “She did not.”

  “Let’s leave this for now,” said Sif. “Plenty of time to finish that dark story.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I think I get the gist in any case.”

  Meuhlnir looked up and held my gaze. “There’s more to it than you’ve heard, Hank. But Sif is right. We, or she or Yowrnsaxa, can tell the rest to you later.”

  “That’s fine,” I said.

  Mothi looked up at the position of the moon. “It’s late anyway,” he said. “We should try to get some sleep. It will be a hard ride tomorrow.”

  “Aye,” grunted Meuhlnir. The two women stirred themselves to action and laid out bedrolls for all of us around the fire. Mothi and I were positioned on one side of the fire, and the three of them huddled close together on the other side.

  Despite camping in the snow in the middle of a great frozen forest of fir trees, the small camp felt cozy and warm. I snuggle
d down into my bedroll, fully dressed still, but was comfortable nonetheless. I thought I might lie awake for a while, fighting the aches and pains of my condition. As usual. Instead, I dropped off as soon as I closed my eyes.

  I was awakened sometime later by the strong feeling that something was wrong. The forest had gone silent—not just the silence of winter, but still like there was a predator close by. I lay there with my back to the remains of the fire, heart beating fast, straining my ears to hear in the stillness, straining my eyes to see in the gloom.

  I had just about given up when the flickering light of the fire flashed on something in the dark shadows of the forest. I sat up and called, “Who’s there?”

  Mothi sat up. “What is it?” he asked in a sleep-fuzzed voice.

  They came at us then, pouring from the forest. A confusion of forms running at us with an eerie wailing keen splitting the night.

  Mothi leapt to his feet, kicking the bedroll away. He screamed “Strikuhr risa!” and seemed to grow as he ran, looming taller and bulkier, muscles bunching and twisting beneath his skin. “Father! Harriers!” He grabbed an axe in each hand and charged at two moving shadows at the edge of the clearing. As he ran, he muttered, “Hooth ow yowrni,” and a watery blue light coalesced around him like a tight-fitting suit of mail.

  Across the fire, Meuhlnir, Sif, and Yowrnsaxa were awake and arming themselves. I pulled my pack toward me, still sitting on the ground with my legs tucked into the bedroll. I dug into the pack and felt for the grip of my Kimber .45 and my spare magazines.

  “Do you know who you are troubling?” I heard Meuhlnir ask in a ringing voice that boomed through the forest like thunder. “No common group of travelers, this. Named Men and Named Women rest here!”

  “About to be named corpses, then,” hissed a reedy voice from the darkness.

  “Come then, meet your death,” said Sif in a voice so hard and brutal I would not have recognized her if I had not seen her speak. She and Yowrnsaxa stood on either side of Meuhlnir, large round shields on their left arms. Sif carried an axe in her other hand, and Yowrnsaxa had a short, but vicious looking sword. Meuhlnir easy, his hammer held in a loose fist by his side.