Blood of the Isir Omnibus

by Erik Henry Vick

  “Frikka and Veethar, saddles!” ordered Meuhlnir.

  The balance of the horde of demons began to howl at the deaths of the others. A loud hissing noise began in the back ranks of the horde and built in volume. Fire demons were shoved aside as if they were nothing, and a gargantuan specimen came forward, hissing in anger, his eyes blazing with hatred. He pointed one clawed hand at Meuhlnir.

  “Get ready,” hissed Meuhlnir. He felt Yowrnsaxa setting herself at his left. Kertr stood next to Pratyi, shielding his left flank. Each of the shield maidens carried a large round shield and a wicked looking short sword that was designed to be used in savage sweeping cuts under and above the edge of the shields.

  The big fire demon set his feet with deliberation, glaring at Meuhlnir all the while. With an obvious effort, the demon twitched its mouth into a gross caricature of a human mouth. “You die,” he croaked.

  “Not at your hand,” said Yowrnsaxa with a grim smile.

  The demon sucked in a great breath, letting his mouth relax into its normal, gruesome shape. He stomped forward, bent at the waist, and spit a great plume of fire at them. Yowrnsaxa stepped in front of Meuhlnir and ducked behind the shield. Meuhlnir stooped low and still felt the flames tickling the air around him. When the blast of fire was over, Yowrnsaxa’s shield was a blackened, smoldering mess, but still solid enough to serve its purpose.

  Meuhlnir stepped to his right and threw his hammer with all his might. It spun, head over haft, flying across the ten-foot gap between them, aimed at the large demon’s throat. The demon grunted and turned his shoulder to take the blow. His shoulder hunched, and he yelped in pain. The hammer fell at his feet, but the demon’s left arm hung loose at his side.

  “Aftur,” said Meuhlnir and the hammer leapt from the ground back into his hand.

  The demon’s eyes shrank to slits, and he glared at Meuhlnir with hatred. He stepped forward and slashed at Meuhlnir with his right hand. Yowrnsaxa stepped in front of the blow. The impact almost made her fumble the shield, and the top edge slammed into her chin with enough force to send blood splattering away.

  The demon’s talons raked across the shield at an angle from the lower left edge, across the blackened center, off the upper right edge, and across Yowrnsaxa’s cheek, leaving three long gouges in the wood and three vicious looking gouges across her flesh. She screeched in pain.

  Meuhlnir roared and came up on his toes, raising the hammer as high as he could, then he brought the hammer whistling downwards to crack into the demon’s big skull. The demon shrieked and fell back, blood raining from the wound. He brought his one working hand to his head and pressed it against his forehead as if he were trying to keep his skull from flying apart. The demon reeled into the smaller demons behind him, turning his head this way and that and striking out as if he had lost the thread of the battle and no longer knew who was attacking him.

  “Ehlteenk!” screamed Meuhlnir, pointing at the big demon with his hammer.

  Thunder boomed across the dark sky, and a bright-blue bolt of lightning shrieked from the sky and into the top of the big demon’s head. The demon convulsed, spitting fire over the demons closest to him and slashing about him with his one working hand. The rest of the fire demons went quiet for a breath and then began to shriek in fear and shuffle away from the big demon and the group of Isir standing at the stables.

  Meuhlnir glanced at the blood on Yowrnsaxa’s face and his mouth twisted. He flung his hammer at the big demon again, and once again the hammer turned end-over-end in perfect circles until it crashed into the big demon’s forehead. The demon fell into a heap, his skull split and bloody brain-matter dripping down his face.

  “Aftur,” said Meuhlnir. His hammer leapt to his hand, and he flicked it absently, shaking the demon’s brains from the head of the hammer.

  “Mount!” called Frikka, pushing reins at him.

  Meuhlnir swept Yowrnsaxa up and set her on one of Veethar’s magnificent horses. “Can you see?” he asked her.

  “It’s nothing,” said Yowrnsaxa, absently wiping blood from her cheek.

  Meuhlnir handed her the reins and then pulled himself on the back of his own mount. With a glance around to be sure everyone was mounted, the former captain of Suel’s Vuthuhr Trohtninkar screamed his defiance at the fire demons…and at Suel. He gave his horse his spurs, and the beast leapt forward.

  He swung his hammer in short, vicious arcs on both his right and, reaching across the saddle, on his left. Fire demons fell away from him as if he were Death itself, trampling each other in their efforts to get free of him. Yowrnsaxa and Kertr had both stowed their shields on their backs and were hacking their way through the press of fire demons. Frikka had a spear in one hand, and an axe in the other. She held the reins in her teeth as she skewered fire demons on her right and split the heads of fire demons on her left. Pratyi was shrieking a song of battle at the top of his lungs and sweeping a double-bladed axe through the fire demons within his reach.

  As he rode through the gates of the basalt palace, Meuhlnir risked a glance at the parapet to his right. Suel, Luka, and Vowli stood looking down on them as the party fled. Suel had a hand to her throat and was staring daggers of burning hatred at Pratyi. Vowli looked in disgust at the demons falling all over themselves to make way for the mounted Isir. Luka stared at Meuhlnir with such a look of hatred it almost felt like a physical blow. Then he was through the gate and kicking the horse for even greater speed.

  They could hear Vowli screaming at the fire demons, but couldn’t make out his words. They were perhaps thirty strides from the gate when they heard a thin shrieking wail that set their nerves on edge. Hooves thundered from behind them, and a group of mounted fire demons raced out of the gate and after them, the black, glossy hooves of their eight-legged steeds striking sparks off the basalt paved path. As they ran, the fire demon’s mounts let off snorts of steam, and little balls of fire dripped from their mouths.

  “Fight or flee?” called Frikka.

  “We have to beat Suel back to our klith,” yelled Pratyi, “if we are to have any chance to escape the palace.”

  “We flee,” said Meuhlnir. “She can’t be allowed to continue as she is.” His voice was as cold as a grave, but his eyes burned with passion.

  Thirty

  Meuhlnir cleared his throat, a painful sound. “We fled the palace as if it were on fire, raising the alarm as we went.”

  “Some followed, but many didn’t believe us,” said Yowrnsaxa with tears glimmering in her eyes.

  “We escaped and met with Sif and her charges and then fled north.”

  “Over the next month, we made our way out of the province and hid in the land we are riding through now,” said Sif. Her expression was aloof, but her voice was soft and filled with emotion. “It was the end.”

  “She pursued us, of course, but it almost felt as if she were just as happy for us to leave the province as she would have been to capture us. I’m sure Luka and Vowli did not share her sentiment.”

  I stared into the remains of the fire. “I’m sorry for your loss,” I said, looking up. “For the loss all of you shared that day.”

  Meuhlnir nodded his head. “It…” He cleared his throat. “It was a terrible day.”

  “She had a new sigil after that day,” said Yowrnsaxa.

  Sif nodded. “A wolf’s head, half-white and half-black.”

  “Muspelheim,” I mused. “Land of the fire giants.”

  “Your mythology?” asked Sif with raised eyebrows.

  I nodded. “I wonder… How many such places are there?”

  “An infinite number, I’d imagine,” said Meuhlnir.

  “There are nine in Norse mythology: Vanaheim, home of the Vanir; Asgard, home of the Æsir; Alfheim, home of the light elves; Midgard, home of the humans; Jotunheim, home of the giants; Svartalfheim, home of the dark elves; Nidavellir, home of the dwarves; Muspelheim, home of the fire giants; and Niflheim, the world of fog and mist, and the home of the dead which was ruled by the
goddess Hel.”

  Meuhlnir barked a harsh laugh. “You already know that the Vanir, Jotuns, and Isir all originated here on Osgarthr, though each in a separate realm so to speak. Other realms are inhabited by elves and ones that are inhabited by what we call dwarves. Muspetlshaymr is the realm of the fire demons. And there are other kinds of ‘demons,’ which is what we’ve come to call the other races that are too different from our own to build any kind of lasting peace.”

  I nodded my head and looked at the fire.

  “Something is bothering you, Hank,” said Mothi.

  I nodded. “These stories you are telling me, I appreciate knowing what happened, but if the intent is to show me another side of Luka and the Dark Queen, well…” I shrugged.

  “Yes, these aren’t the most humanizing tales,” said Yowrnsaxa. “But it’s important to know how they ended up as they are, not just that they fell from grace.” She caught me looking at her cheek and grinned. “We do heal, you know.”

  “No scars?” I asked.

  “Sif healed me without scars, but even if she hadn’t, scars fade over time. It has been a long time, after all. Three or four centuries.”

  “More,” said Mothi with a grin. “You always think I’m still a young man.”

  Yowrnsaxa grinned. “Our little boy,” she crooned.

  Mothi grunted and shook his head.

  “Well, you asked for it, my boy,” said Meuhlnir with a chuckle. He swung his gaze to mine. “The next story will be about the good times, when Suel was…admirable. Maybe our first visit to your klith.”

  I nodded and opened my mouth to agree, but Meuhlnir sat up straight and held up a hand for silence.

  “Weapons?” whispered Mothi.

  Meuhlnir shook his head and made shushing motions with his hands.

  Yowrnsaxa stood, a faraway look in her eyes. “Yes,” she breathed. “I see them now.”

  I turned and looked in the direction she was facing, straining my eyes against the darkness. My hand went to the gun holstered on my right hip. Meuhlnir hissed at me and shook his head.

  “There are more than last time,” said Yowrnsaxa. “They are not men.”

  I looked at Mothi with raised eyebrows, but he was relaxing and sinking back into a semi-reclined position. “Not close,” he whispered. “She’s using the syown—she can sense things that are not present.”

  “She has visions?” I asked.

  “They remind me of Muspetlshaymr.”

  “Fire demons?” asked Meuhlnir.

  “I can’t see them, but I don’t think so. Their flavor is…wrong.”

  “But not men,” grunted Sif.

  “No, not men. They are spreading out behind us, but I think they know where we are.” Yowrnsaxa’s voice was raspy and harsh with tension and effort.

  “Herding us?” asked Mothi.

  “Maybe. They are—” Yowrnsaxa gasped and sank to a sitting position. It was more like a fall than a controlled descent.

  “They’ve seen her,” said Sif.

  Meuhlnir leaned forward with an intense expression on his face. “Skyuldur ochkur!” he muttered, and a translucent dome shape shimmered around our campsite. It shimmered and danced like the reflection of light in a soap bubble.

  Sif rushed to Yowrnsaxa’s side and took the other woman by the shoulders.

  “Some kind of attack?” I asked.

  “No,” breathed Meuhlnir, “at least not an overt one.”

  “One has something like the syown.—or maybe more, it’s hard to see them with clarity. He… It looked into me.” Yowrnsaxa shuddered.

  Sif squeezed her shoulders. “Bad?” she asked with empathy.

  Yowrnsaxa nodded. “It was so… I don’t know how to describe the feeling of it looking into me. It was like nothing I’ve experienced. Its mind was so…”

  “Alien?” I asked.

  “Yes, I suppose that’s it. I couldn’t make much sense of its thoughts, or even what it was sensing at its location.” Yowrnsaxa shuddered again.

  “But you are unhurt?” asked Meuhlnir with concern etched on his face.

  Yowrnsaxa tried to smile with confidence and failed. “Yes,” she said in a shaky voice. “I’m fine. It was just so strange.”

  “A demon then,” muttered Meuhlnir. “This changes things.” He looked Sif in the eye and something flittered between them. Some thought or some understanding was communicated through the experience of being with one another for so long. He grunted and waved his hand. “Kverfa.” The dome of energy around the camp flickered and then disappeared with a pop.

  “What does this change?” I asked.

  “They shadow us instead of attacking. They let us sense them so that we are sure they are there in the darkness on our back trail,” said Meuhlnir.

  “In other words,” said Mothi in jovial tones, “they are trying to herd us into an ambush. Fun, fun.”

  “You don’t have to sound so happy at the prospect,” snapped Yowrnsaxa. Then she covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m so sorry, Mothi,” she said.

  “It’s nothing, Mother Yowrnsaxa. It must have been unnerving, indeed.” Mothi shrugged and smiled at her.

  “Indeed,” she muttered. Her eyes were faraway once more but turned inward. “I should just go to bed.” She turned her back to the fire and began rummaging through her pack.

  “I’ll help you, dear,” said Meuhlnir, rising to his knees.

  “No, no,” she said. “Sif will help me.”

  “Of course,” said Sif.

  The women moved about, getting a bedroll ready, and I looked from Mothi to Meuhlnir.

  “So, you’ve told me what they are doing,” I said. “Now, tell me what this knowledge changes.”

  Meuhlnir looked uncomfortable as he slid back to sit on his rump. “I told you earlier that Vowli’s involvement would make it hard for us to protect you.”

  “You did,” I said with a small nod.

  Father glanced at son and cleared his throat. “The fact that there are demons on our trail, and that they are so brazen, probably means that the Black Bitch has taken an active role in this.” He waved his hand around the camp.

  “Old man!” snapped Sif from the gloom outside the light of the fire.

  “Sorry, dear one, but I can’t help how this makes me feel,” said Meuhlnir over his shoulder. “How she makes me feel.”

  “Even so, respect me if you can’t respect her.”

  “Always, my love,” he said.

  “From my point of view, she has been involved since the beginning.” I chuckled.

  Meuhlnir scoffed but not unkindly. “Your curse? Given the Midnight Queen’s abilities, that curse amounts to no more than brushing away an irritant. Swatting at a buzzing fly, if you will.”

  I shrugged.

  “No, if she were intent on doing you harm, you’d have died on the spot, probably engulfed in emerald flames. This bit with the demons means she’s beginning to take all this seriously. You included.”

  “Congratulations, you are no longer a bug,” said Mothi. He grinned at me.

  “Somehow I find that less than comforting.”

  Mothi shrugged and laughed. “It is no matter. Your fate was written long ago. There is no use fighting it.”

  “The skein of fate woven by the All-Father?” I asked with a smile.

  “You wound me, Aylootr. Don’t mock.” Mothi smiled from ear to ear and chuckled. “Besides, the Nornir weave the skein of fate.”

  “So, what do we do?”

  “First thing we must do is decide if we want her to know that we know what she is doing or if we want her to think we are slow and old,” said Meuhlnir with a thoughtful expression on his face.

  Mothi frowned. “If she is aware that we know of her involvement, then she may take an even more active role.”

  “We don’t want that,” said Meuhlnir as Sif returned to the circle of firelight. “How is she?” he asked.

  “Shaken. She’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll take
your word. We were discussing whether it does us harm for the Dark Queen to know we are aware of her involvement.”

  Sif shrugged. “She’s not a stupid woman. If she’s in communication with the demons behind us, then she will know that Yowrnsaxa saw them and what transpired next. Plus, there is no way of telling how much the demon could glean from Yowrnsaxa’s mind. The Dark Queen may know our plans.”

  Meuhlnir nodded. “But what happens if we openly acknowledge that we see her plans?”

  “She’s always had the capacity to be several steps ahead of your thinking, you great lout. But then again, so do termites,” said Mothi with a grin.

  Meuhlnir held up his hand as if he were about to throw his hammer, but a grin split his face. “I knew it was a mistake to encourage your sense of humor.”

  “On the one hand, it might change nothing,” said Sif oblivious to the banter of her husband and son. “On the other hand, she may come at us more directly. I’m not sure what that might mean, but I don’t think it would be to our advantage.”

  “No doubt there,” said Mothi, his grin fading away into a grim expression.

  “What would it mean to let her know we are aware of her involvement?” I asked.

  “It could be something as drastic as turning around and attacking that band of demons,” said Mothi with a gleam in his eye.

  “Or as minor as changing our plans,” said Sif.

  “And if we let her think we don’t see it?”

  Meuhlnir shrugged. “All we do in that case is let the demons herd us into whatever ambush they have planned. But, we’d go into it prepared.”

  Sif stared into the fire. “She’s not stupid, though,” she muttered. “She must know we might be playing the fool, so the ambush might not be the true thrust of her sword.”

  “Indeed, not,” said Meuhlnir. “It may be nothing more than a feint to keep us from seeing the true danger she’s laid in our path.”

  “Well, I don’t think we will solve this tonight, and I couldn’t be more tired if I’d carried the horse instead of the other way around,” said Mothi failing to stifle a yawn.

  “We should all sleep,” said Sif. She turned her gaze to me. “Do you need more of the cream?”