Blood of the Isir Omnibus

by Erik Henry Vick

  Althyof laughed. “I like you,” he said. “Most Alfar don’t know how to speak properly, but it seems you have the knack.”

  “Thanks,” said Yowtgayrr.

  “Oh, don’t go and ruin it all now, Alf,” snapped Althyof.

  Skowvithr helped me to my feet again, and we all walked back to the longhouse without seeing another soul. We found Sif and Frikka inside the great hall. They’d set up a triage of sorts and were seeing to the wounds of about a dozen of the estate’s thralls. The wounds ranged from stabs, slashes, and broken bones to cold and acid burns.

  Skowvithr helped me to one of the empty benches that were serving as hospital beds and beckoned to Frikka. She came over and squinted at my face and eye. She shook her head and stood looking at me, arms akimbo.

  “This is beyond my ken,” she said at last. She turned on her heel and walked over to where Sif was ministering to a bloody thrall. She touched Sif on the elbow and whispered something in her ear, nodding her head in my direction. She looked over and nodded curtly, handing a roll of bandages to Frikka.

  Sif came and squatted beside my bench. Disquiet danced across her features as she looked at my face. “Did you never learn to duck in Mithgarthr?” she asked. Her tone was light, but her manner expressed only gravitas. She leaned closer and used her thumb and finger to force my left eye wide open. She turned to Skowvithr, and her expression changed to one of anger. “I thought you three had sworn to protect him?” she demanded.

  Skowvithr hung his head but didn’t reply.

  “Nothing they could have done,” I said. “Four of those new demons flanked us while we were fighting the dragon. I shot two of them at point-blank range, and their ichor splattered all over me.”

  Sif grunted, but continued to stare at the Alf for a moment, making her displeasure quite clear. “What happened next?”

  Yowtgayrr put his hand on my left shoulder, startling me. I have no idea if he’d been there the whole time or had just walked up. “He had activated his cloak and turned to smoke as he fired, so we didn’t know this was happening. I was engaged with two other demons, and when Hank turned to smoke, Urlikr and Skowvithr came to my aid. As we put the two demons down, Hank started to scream, but his fettle was still twisted. When the enchantment wore off, his skin was smoking and bubbling like boiling stew. I grabbed him and started splashing water from the trough in his face to try to clear the gunk off him.”

  “And how did the ichor react to the water?” Sif asked.

  “It seemed to resist the water,” said Yowtgayrr. “And it seemed to cause Hank more pain.”

  “It burned,” I grunted. “Acidic, I think.”

  “I had to restrain him so Yowtgayrr could finish getting the stuff off him,” said Skowvithr.

  “Eventually, we got all the ichor clear of his eye and washed off his skin,” said Yowtgayrr. “I fear we weren’t quick enough to save the eye.”

  Sif looked at me with compassion and took my hand in both of hers. “Your fear is justified, Alf. His eye is dead, and I fear for the skin around it.”

  The words hammered through me like an avalanche. Hearing that I had an incurable disease had been bad. Learning that the disease was a curse that had been inflicted on me had been upsetting. Nothing, however, had prepared me to be blinded. “Is there nothing you can do, Sif?”

  “Nothing for the eye. I’m sorry, Hank, but the damage is beyond my power to heal. The skin, however, I might be able to stop any further damage, and minimize the scarring, but I’ll have to get the eye out of there. It is poisoning the surrounding flesh, and the longer it remains, the smaller the chance of stopping the advance of the poison.”

  The words stunned me. Not only blind but disfigured. “Do what you must,” I whispered.

  Sif laid me back on the bench and walked away. She came back and held a drinking horn to my lips that contained a very foul-smelling tea inside. “Drink this, Hank.”

  I took huge gulps, fighting the urge to spit it out, and then fought the urge to vomit it up. When the worst of the urge to purge had passed, I was already feeling groggy. “You should bottle that and sell it,” I slurred. “Make a killing.”

  Sif patted my shoulder. “Close your eyes, Hank.”

  I did what she told me.

  When I awoke later, my right eye was gummed shut. I pried it open with my right hand. The three Alfar sat around me, looking dejected. Althyof was nowhere to be seen, but Sif, Frikka, and Yowrnsaxa were moving around the darkened hall, seeing to the needs of the wounded.

  “He’s awake,” said Yowtgayrr.

  “Good,” boomed Meuhlnir, which earned him shushes from his wives and Frikka. “Sorry,” he said at lower volume. “My ears still ring with thunder.”

  He came around my right side and squatted next to the bench. “Doing all right, Hank?” he asked.

  I shrugged and gestured at my left eye socket.

  “Yes. That’s very unfortunate.”

  “The estate?” I asked.

  “Don’t worry, we repelled the attack. There is some damage—some burnt outbuildings and the stable was crushed somehow, but none of the attackers escaped. Veethar and his forest made sure of that.”

  “Good,” I whispered. “Did Veethar lose many?”

  “Horses? No. Just a few who were trapped in the stables. The attackers didn’t seem much concerned with the herds.”

  “No, I mean people.”

  “Oh. Some thralls perished, but no karls. Of the Isir, your injuries were the worst. None of the Alfar took serious damage, and Althyof acquitted himself well.”

  I nodded and was rewarded for it with a splitting ache in the center of my forehead.

  “Your battle with the dragon saved many lives. You should be proud,” said someone standing behind my head.

  “Yes,” said Meuhlnir. “You did quite well there.”

  I shook my head and winced. “Althyof killed it.”

  “That may be, but your actions allowed the Tverkr the opening,” said the man behind me.

  “Veethar knows of what he speaks, Hank. And you should be honored he chooses to speak at such length.”

  “All this, the attack on Trankastrantir, the attack here, this is all because of me.”

  “No,” said Veethar. “This all started centuries before you were born.” Veethar stepped into my range of vision. His armor was covered in blood, and his face was still splattered with gore.

  Meuhlnir nodded and grasped my forearm. “You’ve heard some of the stories already, Hank. You know that the Black Bitch has an agenda with us all.”

  “But still, she’s left you all alone for centuries, as you say.”

  “That’s because she was not here,” said Meuhlnir. “She was on your klith, doing whatever she and my brother desired there.”

  “Today’s events have just underscored to all concerned that we can no longer afford to ignore the Dragon Queen,” said Frikka, who had walked over to the foot of my bed. She glanced at Veethar, who nodded. “Now, gentlemen, I’m under orders from Sif to drive you all away, with sticks if needs be, so that Hank can recover in peace.”

  “It’s okay,” I said.

  She looked at me with an expression that I’d seen on Jane’s face more than once. I knew better than to argue.

  “I am also under orders to make you drink another horn of Sif’s brew if you resist.”

  “Oh, good god, no,” I said, and everyone laughed.

  Forty

  Our five Alfar body doubles left the next morning, each wearing a helm that had been glamored so that they looked, smelled, and appeared to move like one of the original five in our party. Althyof had tsked and muttered while Meuhlnir had cast the glamor and had then sneered at Meuhlnir’s look of irritation.

  Later that day, my head finally stopped spinning from whatever had been in that drinking horn, and Sif pronounced me fit to sit up and perhaps move around a little. Skowvithr set up a chair for me outside so that I could get some fresh air, and get away from the hustle a
nd bustle of the makeshift hospital in the great hall.

  I sat and watched the uninjured thralls and karls working the herd and integrating the new breeding stock Veethar had brought back with him. The stable was a mess of smashed timbers and broken beams. The dragon’s talons had scored deep gouges in the ground. On the other side of the road, piles of Svartalfar and demons burned, casting a sickly-sweet odor over the compound.

  The dragon lay where it had fallen and was now being butchered and harvested by a drove of Tverkar who had come from Nitavetlir for that express purpose. One of them was pulling what teeth and fangs remained from the beast’s head, grumping and cursing all the while at the “utter waste of materials” my bullets had caused. Another was busy cutting scales from the dragon’s body and casting black looks at the one harvesting the teeth. Another grumpy Tverkr was wading through the gore and flesh of the dragon, hunting for vital organs that could be used for some arcane purpose. Yet another took the beast’s talons and nodded with glee as he extracted each one. Two more stood around and jeered at the rest, urging them to hurry up so the two could get at the bones.

  Althyof approached me, pausing once or twice to mutter and curse at the Tverkar butchering the dragon’s corpse. He wore his runed mail and his scuffed leather boots. His daggers were sheathed on either hip. He had what looked like an old leather strap in one hand. “Hello, lad,” he said to me when he drew close. “How’s the head?”

  “Fair,” I said. “The world seems a bit flat.”

  “This will help with that,” he said, holding out the leather strap.

  The leather looked well-worn, and I noticed that the strap was narrow on both ends but wider in the middle. “An eyepatch?”

  Althyof puffed out his chest. “This is no mere eyepatch. You see only the comfortable old leather.”

  I peered at the strap, looking for runes decorating its surface.

  “I am the best enchanter in all the realms,” he said with pride. That drew him a black look from the Tverkr pulling the dragon’s teeth, but Althyof either didn’t see it or didn’t care. Althyof smiled and showed me the back of the strap. Runes had been burned into it in the wider section. “It’s nothing elaborate, but when you look at something while wearing this, your depth perception will be true.” He glanced at the top of my head and then buckled the two ends together and slipped it over my hair.

  The world lost the flat feel I had just been getting accustomed to. I turned my head back and forth, focusing on the near and then the far. Though it would take some getting used to, it worked. “Thank you, Althyof!” I said. “I would offer to pay you, but…well, I don’t have any funds here.”

  “I’ve also made you these,” he said, holding up a leather wrapped parcel. “These are to help your wife and son when we find them.” He handed the package to me.

  I untied the thin leather strap. Inside, there was a long, thin dagger and a platinum ring. Runes seemed to dance along the blade of the dagger, and I could see more runes inscribed on the inside of the ring’s band. “Enchanted?”

  “I am sort of known for it, you know,” said Althyof with exasperation. “The dagger will allow your son to become invisible, so that he may avoid having to fight with it. The ring is…special. You must decide to give it to your wife or to keep it from her.”

  “Special?”

  “Yes. The ring will cause the wearer to become something like a filkya—a spirit whose essence becomes entwined with the fate of a person. She will become entwined in your fate, Hank.”

  “Linked to my fate? What does that mean?”

  “It means she will share what the Nornir have woven in the skein of fate for you. She will become tied to your life, she will live as long as you do, but only as long as you do.”

  I shook my head. “It sounds romantic in a teenager kind of way, but it sounds like there’s tremendous risk to giving her the ring.”

  Althyof shrugged. “Yes. There are also tremendous benefits, both for you and your wife. She will be your skyuldur vidnukona—your shield maiden. She will share in the gifts of the Isir, but more than that, she will become very powerful. She will gain the power to sow confusion and doubt in battle, to intimidate opponents. She will be able to heal great injuries, and she will be able to cause death by the strength of her will alone. She will be granted the power to travel to your side on raven wings.”

  “That’s… That’s incredible, Althyof. A very powerful gift.”

  “Yes, but as I say, one you must decide to give or not to give. The responsibility is too great.”

  I pursed my lips and looked down at the ring. “Can it be given to someone else?”

  Althyof shook his head. “No. It is for your wife and your wife alone. I’ve never met her, but it is within my power to focus an enchantment thus.”

  “I can’t thank you enough, Althyof. Somehow, I will find a way to repay you.” I said it knowing full well how a Tverkr might interpret such a statement.

  The Tverkr looked down at me with a deliberate, thoughtful expression, and then tipped me a wink. “Don’t tell anyone,” he whispered, “but sometimes Tverkar do a thing simply because it’s the right thing to do. We do like to keep up appearances, so I apologize in advance for how I’m about to act.”

  “What?” I said, a bit confused.

  “Well!” he yelled. “You’d just better come up with a way, Mr. Kanka-ee. I don’t work for free, and if you don’t want to pay, then I’ll just take the enchantment back and replace it with a curse! You have one week. You hear me, Isir?” His face was bunched in what looked like authentic anger, and no one would be able to tell from his tone that he didn’t mean every word. He glared at me for a moment, and then turned on his heel and stalked away. The Tverkar harvesting the dragon laughed and cast snide looks in my direction.

  “What was that about?” asked Mothi, coming around the side of the longhouse. He had a bandage on his forehead and another on his left hand.

  “It’s nothing,” I said. “The silly Tverkr did some work for me without getting payment up front.” I made sure the Tverkar all heard.

  Mothi squatted beside me. “Truly?” he whispered.

  “No,” I said matching his volume level. “He enchanted this ugly thing to give me back the depth perception from my left eye.”

  Mothi’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “No one asked him to do so?”

  “He said that even Tverkar sometimes do a thing just because it is the right thing to do.”

  “Then why the scene?”

  I smiled. “He said he had to keep up appearances.”

  Mothi laughed long and loud.

  “What happened?” I asked, pointing at his bandages when his laughs wound down to chuckles.

  “It’s nothing,” he said with a shrug. “I really hate Svartalfar. Sometimes, I let my fury get the better of me.”

  “And that leads to bandages?”

  He chuckled. “Yes, it does. When I’m furious, I tend to fight without a thought for defense.” He gestured at his head. “I got this one by leaping into the middle of five of the swarthy bastards.” He held up his bandaged hand. “This was just a bite from another one.”

  “It bit you?”

  “Well, I was shoving my hand down his throat at the time. I guess it was a natural reflex.”

  “Oh,” I said. I had no idea how to respond to that.

  Mothi looked toward the bonfire of bodies. “He won’t be biting anyone else, though.”

  It was hard for me to reconcile the jovial, friendly character I’d come to associate with Mothi, with the picture of a battle-mad warrior shoving his hand down someone’s throat in order to kill them. “Why do you hate Svartalfar so much?”

  Mothi shook his head. “That’s a story for another time. But, tell me, Hank, how do you feel?”

  I thought about that for a second, taking a quick mental inventory. “Pretty good, all things considered.”

  “And your head?”

  I shrugged. “It seems to be okay.
Why?”

  Mothi plucked a stone from the ground and bounced it in his bandaged palm. “Mother Yowrnsaxa has news.”

  “Oh?” I arched my brows at him.

  “She was trying to gather intelligence on Luka’s location, and, well…we know where your family is being held, and it’s much closer than we thought.”

  I lunged up straight in the chair. “Where, Mothi? Where are they?”

  Mothi made placating gestures with his hands. “They are in the Pitra Empire, which is the northernmost country on the continent. It is bordered to the south by Takmar’s Horse Plains and Kvia in the west.”

  “Takmar’s Horse Plains was where Veethar was rounding up new stock?”

  Mothi nodded. “Father has long suspected that Pitra was dealing with Briethralak Oolfur in Fankelsi. Now, it seems his suspicions are a certainty.”

  “So, the queen now has allies on this continent? Her exile hasn’t held up very well.”

  Mothi looked grim. “No, it seems it hasn’t.” He sighed.

  “How do we get there?”

  “The Vault of Preer has several possibilities, but we don’t know what kind of intelligence was gathered in the attack. It might be best to take a proo to somewhere somewhat far from your family’s location and travel the rest of the way in secret.”

  “How long will the glamor on the Alfar fool her?” I asked.

  “We have no way of guessing that.” Mothi shrugged and tossed the rock away. “It may be eternal, and it might not fool her at all.”

  “In that case, it seems like we should take the proo closest to their location and just grab them and then get away.”

  Mothi shrugged again and stood. “Father and Veethar are discussing strategy as we speak. Perhaps we should join them?”

  “Why didn’t they come get me?” I groused, getting to my feet. I swayed a bit, and Mothi put out a hand to steady me.

  “It won’t do your family any good if you pass out in the middle of their rescue,” he said.

  “No,” I said. “But then again, that will not happen.” My tone was fierce.

  Mothi’s mouth twisted in a little moue of concern, but he kept his concerns to himself. “They are in Veethar’s map room.”