Quiss spoke. “Maskan. I am sorry.”
“Sorry,” Urac laughed. “Your father was saved from Morag by Dana. He gave an oath to kill Morag, to get Black Grip back, and to save them. He was too weak. Where Morag is greedy, yours is weak. Opar agreed to help Euryale. He agreed to kill you. He betrayed us all.”
Quiss shook her head. “Wait— “
I lifted a finger. “What did Hel want in Mara’s Brow.”
“That is a secret!” Quiss insisted.
“Don’t play tricks with me,” I told Urac, tired with the games. I was looking at the shadows outside. There were many, and they were looking inside. “You said vengeance.”
Quiss stepped forward. “That is not for you to share!”
Urac went on, not taking heed of Quiss. “Like Shannon had set Euryale to save her, so Dana set these Sons of Ymir, freshly betrayed by Ymirtoes, to recover the Black Grip and to kill Euryale. Dana set me to spy here in the south and to aid the jotuns against the dead and Morag both. Now, Dana is dead. She was a human. She will have starved. Shannon, if she survived Dana, and Medusa are out there … poor Dana. I tried to take her place, but Lok doesn’t speak to me. He doesn’t ask me for protection. I—”
I leaned forward. “Wait. Lok spoke to this Dana?”
He wiped some tears off his eyes. “He did. He chooses vessels … from birth. He seeks those with power, and he grants them more. That power, it comes with a cost. Dana survived all five times she asked for his help. That should have sealed her fate. She would have been Lok’s slave. See, Lok is imprisoned, and he walks the land through these few, very powerful vessels. While writhing in chains made of his son’s guts, tortured by snakes, he has ways to get his will out. With Dana, he sought a vessel to protect him in his prison. Dana bargained with him, and he had to make the bargain. He had no true hold over her, if she only fought for him. She tried. She is lost, thanks to Morag. But Lok is still in danger.”
“Lok,” said. “Hel was seeking her father.”
“She is seeking revenge against her father,” he said softly.
“That means …” I began, astonished.
He grinned. “Because Lok’s tricks made Odin wrathful, and Hel ended up punished for Lok’s crimes, she wants revenge. She wants her Hand of Hel to conquer the Nine Worlds, to punish the Aesir and the Vanir, but she, most of all, wants to see Famine pushed to the heart of Lok, even more than she desires Odin’s head. She wants him dead, seated next to Baldr in Helheim.”
Quiss shook her head. “But if you release Lok, by death, or otherwise, the world will end. Ragnarök might begin, the end of the Nine …”
“Lok is in Mara’s Brow?” I asked, holding my face. “Truly?”
“The jotun friend Lok, god of tricks,” Urac said softly, “is imprisoned deep below Mara’s Brow, where Yggdrasill’s root touches Midgard, and now, perhaps after they release Shannon, who might still be the Hand of Hel and might still have Famine, they are trying to get back in there to finish the job. With their help.” He looked at Quiss scathingly. “Her father, Opar, agreed to use Black Grip for the dead ones. They fought hard to stop Hel from killing jotun-friend Lok, and now, he just … capitulated. That is why I had no choice but to trust son of Morag, who, perhaps, sees the light.”
Quiss spoke, her eyes clouded with tears. “My kin, like yours, Maskan, left Hel’s army when they tried to kill Lok the first time. No jotun took part. And my father, Opar, tried to do as Dana, the Mouth of Lok, asked him to. He took Urac’s aid and information, he sent our people to war. He set me and others to spy on the enemy. I was a spy, Maskan. I spied on Aten and took the place of the girl. She is alive, by the way. She lives in the Golden City, a modest life.” She stepped forward. “Opar tried to kill Morag many times. Many. So did the dead. We fought both the dead and Morag, they fought all of us, and Morag did the same as well. In the end, he lost half our people. Morag lost half his. There are now just fifty of us. And only one Ymirtoe.”
“You failed,” Urac said mercilessly. “Miserably. Euryale’s dead killed Morag before you.”
Euryale. The undead lich gorgon. Rhean’s mistress. I know how to find her, I thought.
She held her face. “Yes. When he died, it was sudden. Then … Baduhanna,” she said. “Baduhanna was released. She should have been able to stop Euryale. My father told me to help Maskan, and that way, we could have …”
Urac spat again. “Your father should have taken his jotuns to her then. He should have bowed to her, and aided her, guarded her, and this would not have come to this. And now? When Baduhanna died? He has agreed to help those dead shits.” He held his head. “Help them! Morag cannot use the Black Grip, not when he is dead. Your betrayal,” he said acidly, “is worse than failure and inaction. It is a complete reversal in everything he promised! The enemy has both Anja, and your father’s oaths. He is betraying us all.”
“He has made his mind,” she said. “I know not what he— “
“He wants the Grip,” Urac sneered. “He wants to go home. He abandons the worlds to evil. I bet that is it. Shit-pants of a jotun.”
“Why,” I asked her, “did you aid me? Only for Baduhanna? You saw a way to Baduhanna through me?”
“I aided you, because of Baduhanna,” she agreed. “Morag died, Hel was thriving, and we thought Baduhanna might do our work for us. Opar, my father, told me to aid you. He dared not bring our people to her. She might have killed the lot. She might fear us, she might hate us, and we’d die. Opar put all our hope on her. But I …” She went quiet.
Urac smiled. “It was more than about Baduhanna. I see it. She liked you. Her bitter enemy, she fell in love with you. She aided you, and then, she liked you. She did.”
She said nothing.
“And then, after Baduhanna died, and we both failed,” I said. “Things changed. The deal was made.”
She nodded.
“Opar, your father, devised a new plan,” I said. “He went to Hel’s spawn and made a deal. He commanded you to help slay me, because that is the price you will gladly pay to get into this Euryale’s good side. Do you have another rock? The red one?”
She nodded. She pulled it from her belt. “I thought I lost the last one in the pool. The dead can follow me.”
She looked outside, and I smiled. “Let them wait a bit.”
She shook her head. “You cannot beat them.”
“I picked your pockets,” I said, ignoring her words. “I picked them when we fell in the waterfall, threw it away, and gained time. I sent you away after. I knew when I found the stone. I suspected earlier. None else knew I was going to see this Antos but you. You were there, with Sand. You set your clansmen on me. You guided Sand, vampires, and killers on my tail. You gave Rhean my rings, the book, the earrings. You saved Rhean.” I leaned forward. “You betrayed our army in Hillhold. It was not Roger who sallied forth from Hillhold. You told him to go and followed. You commanded him to surround the bait so the enemy could beat us easily. You gave him an order to form a shieldwall out there. You did all that for your traitor father. Euryale commanded him, and he commanded you, and you claimed you love me?”
“I never,” she said miserably, “lifted my hand against you . I just … had to obey. I had to … the cause of my father …” She held her face.
“Is a coward’s one,” Urac said.
“You are an excellent actress,” I said. “You are. You played Quiss very well. Too well. I … liked you well.”
She shook her head. “You can only act so much, Maskan. I like you too. I … do. As for my father? He doesn’t want to go home,” she whispered. “He is no coward. I don’t think he is. This is his last act of defiance. He told me. He failed, and he is trying to atone for it. He tells the enemy he wants to go back to Nifleheim. He tells them he wants Black Grip, and then, he shall open the ways in Mara’s Brow to the enemy, if Anja doesn’t, and they will open a way for him in return, the gate with the Horn, in Mara’s Hold. Let Lok care for himself. So he told them. But he tr
uly is going to try to surprise them, after the way is opened.”
“I see,” I said. “And love is nothing. You loved me, and betrayed me.”
“I am a jotun,” she said harshly. “We obey the king, or the queen, or our … gods. I am a chaotic thing.” Her face shifted, and her body changed. Silvery chainmail gleamed, and a sword glittered on her side. She didn’t grow, but her blue-green, bright eyes shone and a huge, white hair billowed out, behind her. Her face was cold as snow and sculpted as if of ice. “I, too, am of the old blood. My father, my brothers, one of whom you killed in Nallist, and my grandfather, and a line as long as yours are of the ancient breed. Oath to our family. That is what matters. No human, no elf, no dverg, nothing, goes above. Not even love.”
I nodded. “So basically, they all must go in. Hand of Hel might be dead, but Famine and the Horn will be there. As will the First-Born. Medusa. She will not die?”
Urac shook his head. “She can heal herself. The gorgon kin, the lives ones, anyway, can drink the blood from their right side, and it can heal anything. It can bring the dead back to life. She will be there. Shannon … perhaps. The others are dead. In any case, Euryale has all the guides, all the keys, and if Shannon is gone, she will be the Hand. She will rule Midgard, she will take the worlds one by one for Hel, and there might not be any, if she also opens Lok’s prison.” He looked at Quiss. “You say he is playing a game, and you imply, he will not let Lok’s prison be opened, and let’s pray it is so. He plays a dangerous game, for he must kill Anja.”
“Is Anja on Hel’s side?” I asked.
He shook his head. “She is not. But Euryale is a lich, and she commands vampires, and while draugr jotun loses his ability to shapeshift at death, a vampire Anja might not. Besides, perhaps Rhean will just force her with her power. It is a terrible power.”
Quiss spoke. “How do you know this much about these matters?”
“I had an adventure,” Urac said with shivers. “I spied them once, before I was caught. I heard Euryale teaching her draugr. It is a story meant for another time.”
I rubbed my forehead. “You led the lot after me, Quiss. I can never forget.”
She lifted her head. “My father, no matter what he is planning, has given us orders . I cannot disobey him. I have aided you as well. I have begged you survive, but I cannot deny his command.”
I snarled and pointed my ax at her. The shadows outside moved to the doorway. I saw gleaming pair of eyes.
“You bedded me,” I yelled. “You loved me. But you cannot break your oath to him.”
“Only death can! You are a Ymirtoe … I …” she began and looked down.
“The lass loves you,” he laughed. “Ymirtoe or not. Oaths or not.”
“But you do not love me back,” she said sadly. “You did. You did for a while. You cannot lie to me.”
“Aye. Thrum spoke of a Jotun’s Kiss,” I said. “You felt me. You, despite your father’s orders—”
She stepped towards me. “Jotuns who love each other are linked. Yes. It is a rare thing, but it happens. A female can hear her male. She can feel him near. Males, stupid brutes, feel nothing like it, but we do. I felt your thoughts. I felt them since the battle of Dagnar. I have loved you since then. I couldn’t help it. You loved me as well. Our love was real. I know it was, because I could feel you. I could ...” She looked sad enough to break my heart.
“You broke your oath to your father,” I said brutally, “by teaching me about our god, our ability to call for it.”
“I—”
“Yes. You did. You betrayed, and saved me. Again, and again. You saw me and Nima marry, and you tried to make a jotun out of me, ashamed of such a marriage, ashamed of my plans to follow my father, and of my hope to serve my human kingdom. You tried to make me into one of you. You were so jealous, you nearly broke my head with your furious thoughts.”
She took a shuddering breath. “I am sorry. I was. Nima …”
“Humans are my meat,” I laughed. Urac shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. “I have recently seen, they shall never love me.”
“They shall not,” she whispered. “You are a jotun. No matter what father ordered me to do.”
“You can no longer hear me,” I said. “Or feel me.”
She shook her head. “No. I felt the bond grow weak after Saag’s Hold. I guess you knew then, or guessed. Then, after Nallist? You … I guess you simply and slowly fell out of love with me after the battle. I missed you being so close to me. I miss it now. You cannot love a traitor. You shut your heart to me. Nima took my place.”
I smiled. “No. Nima’s a human. She is my meat, no? It was my anger for Sand’s attack in Saag’s Hold, and what happened in the legionnaire outpost. But what really broke it was Rhean,” I told her sadly. “She charmed me. I fought her, but I had to … let her close to me. I cannot stop thinking about her. I am sorry.”
She looked furious and closed her eyes. “That bitch. The first one raised by Shannon, the Hand of Hel, she was special. Balic came only after her. She has done this for decades.”
“Where is Grinlark? You took it.”
“With father,” she said. “That, too, as was Black Grip, belonged to us once.”
“Where can I find your father?” I asked her.
She opened her mouth and shut it. “It is too late for that.” She stepped aside. “That far I won’t betray my oaths. And they are here.”
I shook my head. “I loved you. I shall not forget this.”
Sand entered. So did a man, who was clearly an undead. He was a vampire, a cold-faced man in a large coat. There were four hulking shadows that shrunk as they stepped behind him. Axes out, they stood still.
I got up. So did Urac.
“Welcome,” I snarled.
“Why?” Quiss asked. “Why did you take me along, if you knew I was …” She went quiet and squinted. She hid a smile. “You want peace for your own plans. You …”
“Sand,” I said softly.
“You made a mistake, Maskan,” he told me, the half-skull gleaming and eyes bright spots of madness.
“I know. Tell them, Sand,” I said. “Your Euryale is going to betray Opar and the Sons of Ymir. Isn’t she?”
He smiled. “Enough, Maskan. Enough. I heard you. Opar’s the one who is doing all the betraying, not mistress Euryale. Now. It is time for this to end, finally. Your paltry victories shall be buried on this beach. Then, soon, the men of Red Midgard shall follow. We have a bigger issue to deal with in the north, first.”
“No,” I said, and held my shield before me. “The two are the same. My armies are moving north. They have ships. They are tired, hurt, bloodied, and in no condition to sail anywhere. They are still going to Mara’s Brow. Well, not all. Some of the dverger are not in the ships. They had to go elsewhere.”
“Eh?” he asked.
The vampire stepped forward. “Enough. He has made too many clever guesses. He must be silenced, and the mistress warned of Opar’s treason.” He walked for me and cast a baleful look at Urac. Urac fell back, held his face, and went to his knees. The red eyes turned back to me, and the fear he cast over me, made my heart beat fast.
With rage.
“Kneel, jotun,” he said. “Kneel, and I shall—”
I slashed my ax down at him. He fell apart, and I kicked the remains, my blood boiling with anger. “No undead shall ever again scare me. Never. I will pay a price for that, won’t I? Quiss, what is your real name?”
“Asra,” she whispered, and smiled softly. “I see. Bolthorn. And you are prepared here.”
I pointed the ax at her as Urac got up, holding his chest. “I did. I did indeed ask help. And do you really think I cannot read anagrams or figure one out?” I asked her with a sneer. “Do you think I cannot set a trap for you, like you did for me? Tris and Nima, time, and a ship, and maps are all I needed. I kept you and I busy for days, while they came here. And you,” I said, and turned to Sand. “I have always been the brains in our outfit, Sand. You we
re the brawn, I was the smarts, even back in the streets when we were still thieves. It is time, Sand, to make my move. My own.”
“No, that’s not true,” Sand called out, and let out a spell of darkest fire. It burned from his hands so fast, I couldn’t blink. It was scorching hot, a touch of death, and it struck my shields and rolled over me.
And died.
I pulled out Lisar’s pendant, bone with a yellow gleam in the middle.
Urac took a sharp breath. “That … I lost it to Lisar ten years ago! It was hers, once. You …”
“It is mine now,” I said, and bowed to Sand. “Goodbye.” I stepped aside.
From outside, ballista bolts shot inside. Heavy, deadly, they tore into jotun backs. Two fell on their faces, howling, their guts torn out. I saw the illusions of stones falling apart as the dverger picked up crossbows. From the corners of the hall, twenty dverger stepped out of a spell of concealment. They lifted crossbows and fired.
The two remaining jotuns howled, their shields and faces, throats, and bodies filled with bolts.
Sand hissed, pulled his sword, and called for darkness.
I lifted my shield and found myself standing in a sea of light, surrounded by mists, Lisar’s pendant protecting me. Sand appeared next to me, bewildered by the light, and dodged my ax. He stepped past me, under my shields, and whirled.
There was a spear moving out of the darkness, and it flashed to his neck. Urac, moving like a viper, was pushing him down. “I’ve done a fair bit of fighting in the dark in my time,” he said. “Say goodbye to him.”
Sons of Ymir Page 25
