“Have you told them everything?” Eir asked.
“Not yet. I had something to do first,” Plintze said. His words growled out like a quern stone.
“We can discuss that later, but you know the dangers of the tunnels. It is unwise to believe you can make it through, let alone those with human blood.”
“What are you talking about?” Bremen asked, standing up and forcing Eir to face him. It annoyed Jorg that he’d been able to draw her focus.
“The dwarves are merchants. They buy and sell anything that will make them a profit. Their clients are whoever is willing to pay. The giants want Midgard. Their lust for the human realm is what the final battle will be all about. Call it ragnarök, doomsday, the end times, whatever you want—it is when the giants invade Midgard to enslave humanity.”
“What does that have to do with us? We just need to get through the tunnels so we can get to the door to Alfheim. Perhaps we can make it through unnoticed,” Jorg argued.
“A single human is worth more to the giants than anything. You walk into those tunnels with two and a half of them,” Eir glared at Jorg, “and you will be found before you can take two breaths. Which you may not be able to do, anyway. The air down there is stifling hot and far denser than it is here.”
“I know my way around. I used to sneak in and out of the tunnels all the time. There is a place that we can hide for a few hours until they adjust.”
“You haven’t been home in a long time, Plintze. Those tunnels change all the time with all the mining. Besides, if you get caught, you will set off an alert to all the realms that Midgard is vulnerable.”
“What are you suggesting? We can’t just sit here and do nothing,” Selby said. She was the only one at the moment that seemed calm, which made Jorg nervous. If Selby was the voice of reason, they might not be thinking clearly.
That thought sounded like something Ingrid would say. Maybe her voice wasn’t completely gone. He peeked down at the stone in his hand. Was it helping him to feel her again? Did that mean she wasn’t as far away as they thought?
“I’m suggesting you wait. Let me contact Thelonius, the king of Alfheim, and tell him the situation. I don’t believe that Jarrick has kept his brother appraised of all his plans. If he is endangering the serenity of the elves, they will not abide by that. They enjoy their peace away from the warring of the other realms.”
“I won’t just sit and wait for you to have some dinner party with a king while Ingrid and Galwain are trapped. Who knows what Jarrick is doing to them?” Bremen clenched his jaw as he spoke through his teeth, and for the first time, he looked as angry as Jorg felt.
“Jarrick has not worked this hard for his plans to just hand them back if his brother asks nicely,” Selby added.
“Let me contact Thelonius before you all go charging into danger. Then we can move forward from there. You have to agree to wait for me, or it will only cause Thelonius to ward all the entrances to Alfheim and protect his own realm. Then we’ll have no options to get to them.”
“How sure are you that you can speak with the king?” Bremen asked.
Eir rolled her eyes at his insistent and irreverent tone. Jorg could tell the goddess’s patience was wearing thin having to deal with all of them.
“He is an old friend. I’m positive he’ll speak with me.”
“Then we’ll wait.”
“You don’t know how long this could take. I won’t agree to that!” Jorg growled the words between his teeth louder and faster than he meant to, but he didn’t regret it. There was no way he would follow Bremen’s leadership in this, and he had no right to agree to any plan without them.
“Give me two of your days, and I will be back with word,” Eir said, directing her words to Jorg directly. “Can you accept that?”
Jorg stared at her, unmoving and unblinking.
“We will all accept that,” Bremen answered. “It will give us the time we need to get my people away as well.”
Eir closed her eyes and tilted her face toward the ceiling. When she faced the group again, she stared into each of their eyes. Saving Jorg for last.
Don’t make me regret this.
The words startled him, and his eyes sprung open wide. The goddess shook her head and smirked.
Eir turned to Selby. “Come with me. I have a task just for you.”
Bremen stood as Selby did, but Eir stopped him with an open palm. “Just Selby.” She ignored his protest and glided out the door.
“It’ll be fine,” Selby said with a shrug, then hurried away, leaving the room in silence.
The next day was a frenzy of getting supplies loaded and groups formed so all the Irish could head out. The people built a new, temporary bridge to allow the wagons to leave the courtyard and follow the road toward the sea where the boat would meet them.
Jorg kept himself busy with the most physically demanding tasks. By the end of the day, his muscles ached, and he was covered in sweat and mud, but he’d been able to keep his mind clear while he worked. It was the nights, and the times he was alone with his thoughts, that he dreaded.
After Eir had left the day before, everyone had gone off to different tasks, avoiding more conversation. It seemed that none of them wanted to question the decision to wait for Eir. Whatever the goddess told Selby, she’d kept to herself.
Now with all the tasks finished, the people would leave first thing in the morning, and there was nothing left to do but think. Jorg pulled the cord he’d strung Ingrid’s bead onto out from under his tunic. It lay still and cool in his hand. He remembered Ingrid wrapping her hands around it before she would insist on a direction as they searched for Eir.
Perhaps that’s what he needed to do. Concentrate on her, let the bead give him a sign of which direction they should go in to find her. He held it tight, his knuckles turning white—but there was nothing. It didn’t even warm in his palm. Frustrated, he dropped the bead back under his tunic. Waiting another day would not work for him.
Spits of meat had been roasting over several fires all afternoon, and the smell made his stomach rumble. He’d eat first, and then after the others went to sleep, he’d slip away. Maybe the bead would show him the way, maybe it wouldn’t, but he needed to start the search.
“It is a bad place to get through,” Plintze whispered before he bit off another large bite of roasted mutton. “Eir was right about that.”
Jorg had sat next to Plintze because he didn’t want to talk to anyone, and there had been no other open spaces. Not only had he been surprised by Plintze striking up a conversation, what he said stunned him more.
“Impossible?”
“No.”
They sat in silence for a bit after that, eating, thinking, and watching the surrounding people. There was a buzz of excitement that coursed through the courtyard. Everyone was eager to get on with their journey because, for them, they were going home. The awful attack that left a third of their friends and family dead could be put behind them. Memories would be left in this terrible country when they stepped onto the boat.
Though Jorg knew they missed their dead as much as he did his own family, they seemed willing to put the experience behind them and move on. He wished he could do the same. His village was destroyed and everyone he cared about with it. Everyone but Ingrid, and she was out there somewhere alone, in danger. The others looked forward to the future with excitement for the possibilities it held. He searched for a way to keep what he had.
“What will we face?” He knew he would go to Svartalfheim no matter what answer Plintze gave, but it would be good to have an idea. He also didn’t worry that the dwarf wouldn’t agree to go with him.
“Any dwarf that finds us will turn us in for a reward from the council. The council will then sell you to the highest bidder. They will most likely send me to go mine with the goblins, that is, until they rip me apart for their dinner.”
Jorg held the next bite of meat in the air halfway to his mouth. He looked at Plintze out of his periph
eral. “And if we don’t get caught?”
“The tunnel to Alfheim only still exists because it is beyond the goblins. No one dares to go ward it closed.”
“So, goblins either way.” Jorg nodded to himself as he put the bite of juicy roast into his mouth. “Sounds like a good challenge.”
“The air stinks, the ceilings are low, and we’ll have to avoid the forges, so it’ll be ice cold.”
Before Jorg could answer, Selby and Bremen walked up and sat on the other side of Plintze. Many of those around the fires started to make their way to a place to sleep. Bremen greeted the only other two sitting at their fire and then no one spoke. A few minutes later the two men got up and left, headed in different directions. The spit was empty, and the fire burned low, indicating it was time for everyone to leave.
Since Plintze and Jorg hadn’t finalized their plan, they sat content to wait.
“When are you leaving?” Selby asked.
“I was thinking of making a trip into the woods any time now and then finding a place to rest under the stars. If you want privacy, there are other fires with no one sitting near them. We were here first.” Jorg smirked and gave her a wink.
Ignoring his diversionary comments, she smiled. “I’m impressed that you two waited until dark. We’ve had our packs ready to go all day.”
Bremen poked the fire and nudged the flames a little higher, so they glowed against his face. “I came here to negotiate a treaty with the king of Mercia, and I know how those meetings go. They are slow with everyone posturing to get what they want for themselves. Jarrick will finish whatever plans he has before Eir and the king can come to any sort of agreement.”
“If you think that, why did you agree to Eir’s plan?” Jorg didn’t hold back the sneer in his tone.
“As I said, I’ve been privy to many negotiations. She needed us to agree, or she would have moved to the next step which would have been forcing us to agree. This way, it moved things along quicker.” He pulled Selby’s hand into his own and rubbed it with his thumb. “I doubt she believed that we’d wait when she made the suggestion.”
“So, you don’t believe she’s going to talk with the king?” Plintze asked.
“I think she is. In fact, I think she’s distracting him to buy us time, so that we can get into Alfheim. Why else would she tell us the elves might ward off their entrances? She’s a goddess, right? She’d know that.”
Jorg snorted and shook his head. Of course, Eir knew. She’d told him as much when she spoke into his mind as she left. As much as he hated to admit it, his little brother had a point. He might not be as useless in helping as Jorg had thought.
11
Ingrid
Unable to will her body to respond, Ingrid froze. She gaped at the stranger who had closed the door gently behind him and now met her stare. A sinister smile crept across his face.
The surrounding air radiated a peppery unpleasantness. A heaviness pressed into the room as if the light had been squeezed into a dark container. No one else seemed affected by Urkon’s presence.
Ingrid’s heartbeat hammered at her chest. When a faun entered and called out that it was time to “move through,” she remained still. Caelya reappeared at Ingrid’s side after having spent her time chatting and laughing with the other elves.
“He can’t hurt you here. Ignore him and come with me,” Caelya said in a voice so low Ingrid almost couldn’t hear her through the thrumming in her ears. When she felt a light touch at her elbow, she finally shook her paralysis and followed.
They stepped through a set of double doors together into a grand dining hall.
One long table of polished dark wood sat in the center, and the edges of the room were lined with more fauns in the same white shirts and black jackets. They all faced the table and looked straight ahead. It was unnerving to Ingrid, but no one else seemed to even notice their presence.
At the far end of the table sat a single, grand chair with velvet cushions in a buttery yellow. The king’s place, no doubt. Flanking the table on either side of the larger throne were two equally ornate, yet slightly smaller chairs. Ingrid followed Caelya forward. She stopped at the chair to the king’s right and gestured to the chair next to hers for Ingrid.
Without the need to glance, Ingrid knew that Urkon had slithered his way to her other side. The heated pepper scent bore straight into her senses and caused a headache to take shape between her brows.
Suddenly, everyone silenced and stopped shuffling into their places. Startled that something was amiss, Ingrid peered around the room.
She instantly realized what the commotion was all about. Jarrick grinned at her as he entered the room from a different doorway, following another male who could only be Thelonius.
The king had the same white blonde hair as Jarrick and light green eyes that immediately latched onto Ingrid’s. She stared, awestruck. He was captivating and beautiful. An aura seemed to glow around him as he moved. He wore a light green tunic that flowed past his knees and was embroidered with golden thread in an intricate leaf and vines pattern.
When he arrived at the head chair, he broke his gaze with Ingrid and nodded to the rest of the room as he sat. As one, the others lowered into their chairs. Caelya tugged on Ingrid’s sleeve to make her sit, which she did with more of a plop than an elegant motion like everyone else.
Jarrick sat across from Caelya at Thelonius’ left side. He wore a crown as well. It was similar to Caelya’s and equally dazzling. After he settled into his chair, he rubbed the back of his neck in a similar way that Jorg did so often. Ingrid’s eyes stung, but she settled herself quickly. She would not—could not—show any weakness. The king’s crown was also in silver but solid rather than the more delicate openness of the other two. It peaked higher in the front with a single pointed leaf. Smaller leaves made the other points around the circle, and each was adorned with a jewel the size of Ingrid’s thumb. The center stone was a single sapphire even larger than the rest.
“Thank you for joining us this evening, Ingrid. I’ve been eager to meet you,” Thelonius said, his eyes once more intensely concentrated on her.
“Thank you for having me. I’ve looked forward to our meeting as well.” Ingrid tried to remember how her mother would behave when other chieftains visited the village. Always polite, offering the best of the food stores and giving deference to the guest. Even when sometimes, as Ingrid knew, the guest was more of an enemy than a friend to her father’s position. Her mother would have fit in here. Ingrid would try to make her proud.
“Are you adjusting to Alfheim well? I hear it can be a struggle in the beginning.” The king spoke as though she had come of her own free will, yet he knew differently. She’d play along and see where the conversation headed.
“It was difficult at first, but I believe I’m well now.” She wanted to ask about Galwain, to find out why she wasn’t there, too, but she decided to let the king be the one to give information. She’d listen and learn.
The fauns moved around the room, placing gilded platters of roasted vegetables in front of each guest. There were also spicy sauces in yellows and reds that slightly burned the nose and glasses filled with sparkling wine. It differed from the rose-scented drink she’d had in the other room and decided on caution. Though she appeared to drink, she only held the glass to her lips so as not to draw attention to her decision.
“Hello, Ingrid. It's nice to finally meet in person.” Urkon leaned near her as he spoke quietly. His voice rasped with the brittleness of dry leaves, death and destruction from where life used to flow.
Ingrid didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Something about the man . . . was he a man? . . . told her to respect the power radiating off of him. He scared her in a way that Jarrick never had. Even though the first time she’d met him, he had possessed Voxx on the moors.
With a hard swallow, Ingrid sat rigidly. Peeking a glance across the table, she found Jarrick watching her. Expectantly. What was that about? Was he waiting to see how she react
ed to his mentor? Something clicked inside Ingrid.
Slowly, she turned her head and fixed her stare on Urkon.
Ingrid picked up her glass, more for something to do with her hands, and tipped her chin to Urkon in greeting as she brought it to her lips. Tongue-tied she couldn’t bring herself to make small talk.
“There is much I can teach you that Eir could not. She has no idea the true power you hold.” Urkon bore through Ingrid with an intensity that would have made her knees buckle had she not been sitting. Power radiated from him, and she swallowed hard, taking a quick drink to try to cover it.
“I was trained well, thank you. I’m sure I don’t need any more help.” Her voice slipped through with more confidence than she expected as if part of her mind took control over the weakness in her body. Whatever it was, she was grateful and sat a little taller.
Urkon’s eyes glittered, and his nostrils flared slightly. “You only think so because you don’t know better. You have more raw talent than you understand. Eir was afraid to test you, but I was not.”
What did that mean? Ingrid pinched her brows and peeked at those sitting around her. Everyone was engaged in their own conversations and didn’t notice how close Urkon had leaned toward her. Leaning back in her chair, Ingrid tried to create more distance between them. It made no difference. She wanted to turn away. Talk to Caelya. Stare at her plate. Anything other than engaging with the evilness next to her.
“A tremor rumbled through the realms the day you were born. I felt it and was drawn to Midgard to find you. When I did, your essence was light. I needed to be sure I was correct.”
The air shifted around Ingrid. From the corner of her eye, she noticed how the room seemed to still. No one moved. The fauns froze in place with trays hovering midair. Glasses were held to lips that didn’t drink.
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